Thursday, September 30, 2021
Another Post-Korea: Coming Clean
I am no longer in Korea. I chose to come home at the end of September and have been back in Ohio since September 27th, accompanied by my little sister, Eunsun.
The reason for my decision may not be easily found in my blog posts, but if you look closely, I'm sure you could guess a few of the reasons. I am fairly certain this was the right decision for me, though I experience daily doubts.
There were things I struggled with that I didn't disclose in these posts. But if you look back at one of my first few entries called Here Comes the Fear, you'll remember that I listed situations in which I was afraid I'd find myself. Each one became a reality and I felt increasingly isolated each day.
For anyone reading and considering teaching in Korea: The experience can be and usually is amazing for many people. Most people I've met cherished their experiences.
My situation was complicated by a birthfamily intent on making me "theirs." I was ill equipped to deal with the issues I was facing and felt the need to be near loved ones who are more concerned with understanding me than controlling me.
On a lighter note: Eunsun, the younger sister, did come back to Columbus, Ohio with me. The experience was exciting, stressful, funny, and all-in-all very memorable. Let me know if you are interested in reading more about her visit and I will be glad to include details in an additional post.
Saturday, September 25, 2021
Other Korean Adoption Blogs
I found a blog posted by the mother of two Korean adoptees. She had a video posted showing the reunion between Korean adoptees and their birth families. It's interesting if you're curious:
http://chinaadoptiontalk.blogspot.com/2009/01/korean-adoptee-reunion-videos.html
Saturday, September 5, 2009
DMZ and new classes
My dad and his wife, Charlene are here and we went to the DMZ today! I typed an exclamation point because, although I have already been on a DMZ tour with my mom and her husband, Kevin, this one was slightly different. We were able to go to an area which the other tour skipped (and this tour skipped one of the areas which was of no particular interest to me). I got some great new pictures and I will post them later.
The BEST part (and I can't believe I'm saying this), was the fact that we stopped at an amethyst factory. At first, this gemstone was just another gemstone, but when the tour guide informed me that it was the national stone of Korea, I became more interested. Because we were a foreign tour group, we received a total of 50% off the price of all amethyst jewelry. I bought a ring. I believe it is set in sterling silver, and is surrounded by a few diamonds. It's a little flashy for someone who doesn't really wear jewelry, but I figured every girl needs at least one piece of nice jewelry. That is something my stepmother, Charlene, taught me. I have to agree. I did pick up a grade-B rock, but the color is more like that of a grade-A.
We had dinner at Outback Steakhouse and now I am back at home, exhausted but happy and extremely content with the events of the day. Although I don't speak much Korean, what I have learned seemed more impressive when used in front of Mom and Kevin. Now that a couple months have passed, I feel even more adequate in front of Dad and Charlene. It may not be much, but even being able to look at the Korean writing (Hangul) and know the correct pronunciation of a word is a mini-triumph for me. For instance, Dad showed me the name of the nearest subway stop and I looked it up on my ALL-IN-KOREAN subway map and sounded out the words until I found the right one. Then I was able to write it on a piece of paper (in Korean) so Dad could show any taxi driver where he needed to go. Is it wrong to be so proud when my Korean is at the level of a 14-month old child? If that....
My new classes have started for fall semester (they're really quarters) and I seem to have a decent group. My higher level class contains quite a few kids who didn't level-up, so they are less than stellar-students. My middle school class is all boys and, although they get a little rowdy at times, they are a lot of fun. And my lower level elementary school class is ADORABLE. I still don't have a feel for their personalities, but each one is the cutest kid EVER! Perhaps an exaggeration, but although Korean children tend to be more attractive (in my opinion) than other children, I've had some funny looking ones. This class is full of little models. They seem well behaved to boot.
One story: For my middle school, all-boy class, they had to learn about the American Civil War. When asked about the economies in the North and the South, they were to use their notes to tell me about it. But as note-taking goes, the words are in an order and organizational pattern that may only make sense to the person who wrote the notes. That was the case for one student. So when he desk partner tried to cheat by looking at HIS notes, having taken none of his own, he said, "Teacher, the North's economy was based on slave factories!" The correct answer was that it was based on factories, while the South's was based on plantations and slaves.
"Slave factories?" I repeated.
He paused and looked like a deer in headlights.
"Yes?" he answered, unsure.
"There were factories that made slaves?" I asked, trying to keep myself from laughing.
I failed.
I started laughing, partially because it struck me as funny, and partially because I had a fellow teacher auditing my class in the back row. The entire class started laughing.
"See, Willy? That's what you get when you try to cheat off your friend. You end up saying things like, 'slave factories,'" I told him, still laughing.
"Yes, Teacher."
Then Friday, he was trying to memorize a sentence that said, "She was from the South but went to school in the North, where she learned to hate slavery." Instead, he said, "Where she learned to hate slaves."
I reminded him of his past mistake and shook my head, asking him if he was racist. His cheeks got red and he blushed as deeply as when his friend and pronounced him to be "gay" earlier in the class.
Middle school boys are a pain when it comes to keeping their attention, but they do make for some fun in-class bloopers.
The BEST part (and I can't believe I'm saying this), was the fact that we stopped at an amethyst factory. At first, this gemstone was just another gemstone, but when the tour guide informed me that it was the national stone of Korea, I became more interested. Because we were a foreign tour group, we received a total of 50% off the price of all amethyst jewelry. I bought a ring. I believe it is set in sterling silver, and is surrounded by a few diamonds. It's a little flashy for someone who doesn't really wear jewelry, but I figured every girl needs at least one piece of nice jewelry. That is something my stepmother, Charlene, taught me. I have to agree. I did pick up a grade-B rock, but the color is more like that of a grade-A.
We had dinner at Outback Steakhouse and now I am back at home, exhausted but happy and extremely content with the events of the day. Although I don't speak much Korean, what I have learned seemed more impressive when used in front of Mom and Kevin. Now that a couple months have passed, I feel even more adequate in front of Dad and Charlene. It may not be much, but even being able to look at the Korean writing (Hangul) and know the correct pronunciation of a word is a mini-triumph for me. For instance, Dad showed me the name of the nearest subway stop and I looked it up on my ALL-IN-KOREAN subway map and sounded out the words until I found the right one. Then I was able to write it on a piece of paper (in Korean) so Dad could show any taxi driver where he needed to go. Is it wrong to be so proud when my Korean is at the level of a 14-month old child? If that....
My new classes have started for fall semester (they're really quarters) and I seem to have a decent group. My higher level class contains quite a few kids who didn't level-up, so they are less than stellar-students. My middle school class is all boys and, although they get a little rowdy at times, they are a lot of fun. And my lower level elementary school class is ADORABLE. I still don't have a feel for their personalities, but each one is the cutest kid EVER! Perhaps an exaggeration, but although Korean children tend to be more attractive (in my opinion) than other children, I've had some funny looking ones. This class is full of little models. They seem well behaved to boot.
One story: For my middle school, all-boy class, they had to learn about the American Civil War. When asked about the economies in the North and the South, they were to use their notes to tell me about it. But as note-taking goes, the words are in an order and organizational pattern that may only make sense to the person who wrote the notes. That was the case for one student. So when he desk partner tried to cheat by looking at HIS notes, having taken none of his own, he said, "Teacher, the North's economy was based on slave factories!" The correct answer was that it was based on factories, while the South's was based on plantations and slaves.
"Slave factories?" I repeated.
He paused and looked like a deer in headlights.
"Yes?" he answered, unsure.
"There were factories that made slaves?" I asked, trying to keep myself from laughing.
I failed.
I started laughing, partially because it struck me as funny, and partially because I had a fellow teacher auditing my class in the back row. The entire class started laughing.
"See, Willy? That's what you get when you try to cheat off your friend. You end up saying things like, 'slave factories,'" I told him, still laughing.
"Yes, Teacher."
Then Friday, he was trying to memorize a sentence that said, "She was from the South but went to school in the North, where she learned to hate slavery." Instead, he said, "Where she learned to hate slaves."
I reminded him of his past mistake and shook my head, asking him if he was racist. His cheeks got red and he blushed as deeply as when his friend and pronounced him to be "gay" earlier in the class.
Middle school boys are a pain when it comes to keeping their attention, but they do make for some fun in-class bloopers.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Pics of the memorial
Below are photos from the memorial for my biological Grandmother (my birthfather's mother). The first three are of the room set up at the memorial building where her ashes are kept. It was a simple room with hardwood floors, a plasma screen with her photo on it, and some incense to light in her honor. Afterward we had a picnic of spicy Korean food which included rank-smelling seafood. I was unable to eat much. In attendence were my birthparents, my sisters, two birthuncles, their wives, my birthfather's sister, and a cousin who is about my age.
The place was about two hours away, so we stopped at a rest area where I snapped the cute picture of Eunkyung and Eunsun (yes, I'm using a different spelling for their names today because I'm beginning to see it actually does make more phonetic sense).
We also stopped at a small shop, which looked more like a tent attached to a small country home (two pics). It was located in front of several other interesting structures, but no one seemed to know what they were (the picture with the hut-like structures). Also, there was a sculpture with statues of the military. I have no idea what that was all about.
The place was about two hours away, so we stopped at a rest area where I snapped the cute picture of Eunkyung and Eunsun (yes, I'm using a different spelling for their names today because I'm beginning to see it actually does make more phonetic sense).
We also stopped at a small shop, which looked more like a tent attached to a small country home (two pics). It was located in front of several other interesting structures, but no one seemed to know what they were (the picture with the hut-like structures). Also, there was a sculpture with statues of the military. I have no idea what that was all about.
Friday, August 28, 2009
SBC TV Network starring me
Monday evening I was somewhat duped into being recorded for a TV segment. The reporter called it a "documentary," but it's hard to tell if he meant it the same way native English speakers mean it.
The story was something like a follow-up to a story done about my birthfamily's restaurant six years ago. When he found out about me, he insisted I be included. I told him that I would prefer not to be on television, but like every other time the word "no" exits my lips, I was ignored. At this point I find myself being too tired to press the issues very often. After the tenth "no," I more or less give up.
So yesterday I found out the story has already aired. A coworker, Edward, came to me and said that his students mentioned seeing me on television. Then tonight, some of my middle school students were excited because they'd seen me on SBC TV.
Apparently it was revealed on the show that my birthfamily's restaurant is worth about $1 million. Everyone seemed quite impressed.
The actual interview for the documentary (Monday) was stressful. The reporter was pushy and incredibly insincere. Any time I felt uncomfortable with something, he'd continue to push. He always referred to my birthparents as "your mother and father." And when he asked me about the racism I experienced growing up in America, he seemed almost disappointed when I reported very little. He rephrased the question a couple times, but when I failed to tell him that I grew up being discriminated against and that America is horrible, he sighed a bit and gave up.
Some other controversial topics were brought to the surface and it made me very uncomfortable.
One somewhat amusing (for me) moment was when they told me to go outside the restaurant for a few minutes. When the reporter called me back in, my birthmother rushed to me with open arms and embraced me, as if she had no idea I was there before. Then she "calls" my birthfather to come out from the kitchen. And although he had been standing there the entire time watching, when the camera focused on him, his eyes opened wide and he said, in surprise, "Laura!"
It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes with the camera stuck in my face.
At one point, my hand was near my face. My birthfather took his hand and firmly pushed my hand down. It's a harmless gesture, I suppose. But I've never been one who likes someone physically manipulating my body, even if it's only my hand. I don't like to be touched in any type of forceful or directive way and his doing so has, over the past few months, worn on me.
Lastly, without getting into it too much (at least not now), at one point the reporter disagreed with something I said, saying, "THEY are your family" (referring to my birthfamily).
All in all, it was a stressful interview....but I remembered what I learned in my public relations courses from college, and smiled instead of screaming. That's probably the main P.R. rule....don't break down crying and screaming. Mission accomplished.
The story was something like a follow-up to a story done about my birthfamily's restaurant six years ago. When he found out about me, he insisted I be included. I told him that I would prefer not to be on television, but like every other time the word "no" exits my lips, I was ignored. At this point I find myself being too tired to press the issues very often. After the tenth "no," I more or less give up.
So yesterday I found out the story has already aired. A coworker, Edward, came to me and said that his students mentioned seeing me on television. Then tonight, some of my middle school students were excited because they'd seen me on SBC TV.
Apparently it was revealed on the show that my birthfamily's restaurant is worth about $1 million. Everyone seemed quite impressed.
The actual interview for the documentary (Monday) was stressful. The reporter was pushy and incredibly insincere. Any time I felt uncomfortable with something, he'd continue to push. He always referred to my birthparents as "your mother and father." And when he asked me about the racism I experienced growing up in America, he seemed almost disappointed when I reported very little. He rephrased the question a couple times, but when I failed to tell him that I grew up being discriminated against and that America is horrible, he sighed a bit and gave up.
Some other controversial topics were brought to the surface and it made me very uncomfortable.
One somewhat amusing (for me) moment was when they told me to go outside the restaurant for a few minutes. When the reporter called me back in, my birthmother rushed to me with open arms and embraced me, as if she had no idea I was there before. Then she "calls" my birthfather to come out from the kitchen. And although he had been standing there the entire time watching, when the camera focused on him, his eyes opened wide and he said, in surprise, "Laura!"
It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes with the camera stuck in my face.
At one point, my hand was near my face. My birthfather took his hand and firmly pushed my hand down. It's a harmless gesture, I suppose. But I've never been one who likes someone physically manipulating my body, even if it's only my hand. I don't like to be touched in any type of forceful or directive way and his doing so has, over the past few months, worn on me.
Lastly, without getting into it too much (at least not now), at one point the reporter disagreed with something I said, saying, "THEY are your family" (referring to my birthfamily).
All in all, it was a stressful interview....but I remembered what I learned in my public relations courses from college, and smiled instead of screaming. That's probably the main P.R. rule....don't break down crying and screaming. Mission accomplished.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
More student stories
Today was my higher level English class. They are all older elementary school children and, although they are considered higher level, I don't see much difference between their speaking and vocabulary abilities and my lowest level class.
The topic for today was Slavery. Yes, deep. They had to read several excerpts about slavery in general and specific events. Then their project assignment (in-class) was to discuss and write down the various hardships and suffering slaves experienced. Then they were to make up a song about the slaves' struggles.
They came up with:
-Being killed (We'd learned about one particular trip when 133 sick slaves were thrown overboard so the ship's owner could get the insurance money for "destroyed cargo.")
--The reason this was bad was because it was "unfair." Yes, kids....that IS one thing that was unfair about slavery....but can you think of ANYTHING else that as unfair????
-Having to wear "only underwear" all the time--which was embarrassing (I have no idea exactly where this came from, but this was right next to the "being killed" entry.)
-Being homeless (I think they meant homesick, but not sure)
-No good food
No mention of slaves being sold, traded, used, beaten, forced into ignorance (punishing those who showed they were trying to learn), or any of the other things we had discussed. The underwear, homeless, and bad food ideas were ALL from somewhere else.
And that was about it.
There were two groups....one group's song made no sense at all. The other group's song was....well....this (sung to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star):
"If you kill slaves then you have no slaves
and you need slaves
so why do you kill slaves?"
That was only the first part, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe the kids had missed the point of today's lessons.
On a slightly unrelated note....it bothers me when the know-it-all girl in my class tries to "interpret" what another student is trying to say because her speaking/vocabulary/grammar is horrible. She uses bigger words to impress but almost never uses them correctly. Many times she does this even after I've understood the original student's question. She usually interrupts by saying, "What her mean is...." and then a string of mispronounced, oddly placed words.
The topic for today was Slavery. Yes, deep. They had to read several excerpts about slavery in general and specific events. Then their project assignment (in-class) was to discuss and write down the various hardships and suffering slaves experienced. Then they were to make up a song about the slaves' struggles.
They came up with:
-Being killed (We'd learned about one particular trip when 133 sick slaves were thrown overboard so the ship's owner could get the insurance money for "destroyed cargo.")
--The reason this was bad was because it was "unfair." Yes, kids....that IS one thing that was unfair about slavery....but can you think of ANYTHING else that as unfair????
-Having to wear "only underwear" all the time--which was embarrassing (I have no idea exactly where this came from, but this was right next to the "being killed" entry.)
-Being homeless (I think they meant homesick, but not sure)
-No good food
No mention of slaves being sold, traded, used, beaten, forced into ignorance (punishing those who showed they were trying to learn), or any of the other things we had discussed. The underwear, homeless, and bad food ideas were ALL from somewhere else.
And that was about it.
There were two groups....one group's song made no sense at all. The other group's song was....well....this (sung to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star):
"If you kill slaves then you have no slaves
and you need slaves
so why do you kill slaves?"
That was only the first part, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe the kids had missed the point of today's lessons.
On a slightly unrelated note....it bothers me when the know-it-all girl in my class tries to "interpret" what another student is trying to say because her speaking/vocabulary/grammar is horrible. She uses bigger words to impress but almost never uses them correctly. Many times she does this even after I've understood the original student's question. She usually interrupts by saying, "What her mean is...." and then a string of mispronounced, oddly placed words.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Rated R post
The other day my students (around 11-12 years old) asked me what "puck" means. I would've been thinking hockey (thanks to my older brother, Ryan), but since I'd just had to speak to them about saying the word "ass-sole," I knew they weren't asking about a hockey puck. Also, Korean kids have trouble with the "f" sound (coffee becomes coppee, phone becomes phone, and apparently fuck because puck).
My "bad" class has two boys who cause trouble, but Obama is the worst. He hates that he is expected to do anything. The problem is that he is a funny kid. If he was a neighborhood kid or a relative of mine, I'd find him hysterical and clever and possibly cute. But I'm his teacher.
"I love you," he told his friend, Junior, one day. The class thought it was funny and burst out in laughter, much to Junior's embarrassment. In semi-mock anger, Junior jumped out of his seat and tried to hit Obama on the arm.
"Teacher!" Obama cried, feigning outrage. "Junior is touching my body!"
Again, the other students giggled in delight, which moved Junior to, once again, go to Obama and hit him.
"Teacher! Junior touching my leg!"
I had to concentrate on firming up the corners of my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
Then last week, while another student was answering a question, Junior asked a question and interrupted the other student. I shot him what I hoped was a scary don't-talk-while-others-are-talking look. He shut his mouth. Then I saw Obama shake his head and make a "tsk, tsk" sound.
"Teacher," he said. "Junior...no etiquette. What an 'ass-sole.'"
Again, I tried not to smile, but this time I failed.
Originally, when they asked me what "puck" meant I told them two things:
1.) Don't SAY the actual word when you ask what it means....call it...the "F-Bomb"
2.) I am not going to say what it means
So today, the question came up again. But this time, it was, "Teacher, what does the 'puck-bomb' mean?"
Great...my student just asked me what "fuck bomb" means.
My "bad" class has two boys who cause trouble, but Obama is the worst. He hates that he is expected to do anything. The problem is that he is a funny kid. If he was a neighborhood kid or a relative of mine, I'd find him hysterical and clever and possibly cute. But I'm his teacher.
"I love you," he told his friend, Junior, one day. The class thought it was funny and burst out in laughter, much to Junior's embarrassment. In semi-mock anger, Junior jumped out of his seat and tried to hit Obama on the arm.
"Teacher!" Obama cried, feigning outrage. "Junior is touching my body!"
Again, the other students giggled in delight, which moved Junior to, once again, go to Obama and hit him.
"Teacher! Junior touching my leg!"
I had to concentrate on firming up the corners of my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
Then last week, while another student was answering a question, Junior asked a question and interrupted the other student. I shot him what I hoped was a scary don't-talk-while-others-are-talking look. He shut his mouth. Then I saw Obama shake his head and make a "tsk, tsk" sound.
"Teacher," he said. "Junior...no etiquette. What an 'ass-sole.'"
Again, I tried not to smile, but this time I failed.
Originally, when they asked me what "puck" meant I told them two things:
1.) Don't SAY the actual word when you ask what it means....call it...the "F-Bomb"
2.) I am not going to say what it means
So today, the question came up again. But this time, it was, "Teacher, what does the 'puck-bomb' mean?"
Great...my student just asked me what "fuck bomb" means.
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