::A Geek in Korea::

Today I got to see a graduated middle school student that had missed a week of classes. He told me he had been studying for a series of high school examinations. This was very odd, as he hasn’t attended high school yet, but was already preparing for their tests. What would these tests be about?

The process of getting into a high school is competitive. The students took tests last year to decide which schools they could attend. From what he told me, all middle school students that enroll in a high school must take a test this week to determine the level of class they will be placed in the school they entered. These tests are standardized and administered by the government. This is just to check to see if students had forgotten anything from the LAST set of standardized tests, and serve as a general guide to placing students. They aren’t binding, as the schools can use other factors to determine where students are placed in class.

My student told me that his school has a secondary set of tests created for the process of seating students in “special classes”. These special classes are the elite of the school, and students in these classes will be given more information and special help to prepare for their college entrance examinations.

It gets worse.

Not only are these “special classes” given more information to help them pass tests, but getting into these classes isn’t only determined by grades on examinations. If wealthier students pay a fee to offset low scores, they will be allowed to join these “special” classes.

All of this is illegal, of course, but no one reports it. The teachers can use tests as a form of blackmail, threatening to kick out underperforming students to collect cash from worried parents. The students in the classes get perks that help them, so they try to keep up with their studies.

What I don’t understand is what keeps the other students from reporting the problems to the Ministry of Education. If you were forced to pay for a private High School education, but were told that the special classes would be better informed, why would anyone settle of “second rate” education?

Education isn’t something that should be treated this cynically. I work as hard for a lower level class as I do for a higher level class, and I don’t expect a bribe to do my job.

The student recognized it was criminal, and unfair, but he said he intended to be in the special classes, not on the outside looking in. This is the problem. As long as people think they will benefit at the expense of others, gaining a competitive advantage on the only test that matters, the college entrance examination, nothing will fix this sort of problem.

I got a call from my wife today. She went to one of the larger street markets to buy fruit. She gave me a call to ask which fruit she should bring home. Seeing as I wasn’t at the market to judge the quality of produce myself, I asked her to get whatever she thought looked best. She told me she’d be getting strawberries, and then hung up.

When I got home from work, she had cooked dinner for me. We ate a salad with some of the strawberries. When I sat down to write this post, she came over and handed me a bowl of strawberries, washed, but not cut. I plucked one out of the bowl and started munching on it, holding it by the green stem. Just as I was about to bite down and enjoy the sweetness, she called out from the other room, “Be careful. One of those strawberries is bad. It fell back in when I washed them, but I don’t know which one. Watch out for it.”

She didn’t tell me what was wrong with this bad strawberry. All of a sudden the mundane task of eating a strawberry has turned into a perilous event. I’ve got to check each fruit for signs of disease.

My mind runs rampant with speculation as to which of these is the “bad” strawberry. These are greenhouse strawberries, so perhaps the lighter color, less ripe one is the “bad” one. Or maybe one of them had a bruised skin I missed before I ate it. What if the one I ate first before hearing the warning was the bad one?

Why did she tell me at all?

I’m not on board the “Japan’s sexually dysfunctional culture is wacky!” meme. I mean, it is a weird culture, no doubt, but a lot of people are obsessed with Japan that have never been there. Just because it happens in Japan doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen elsewhere. Sure, a lot of weird things DO happen only in Japan, but that’s not a good reason to idolize their culture. Some things are best left “undid“.

For example, this article is basically “The Mystery Method” in Japan. Working on the theory that even a creepy dude like David Copperfield can get a girlfriend, other people use magic to trick women. BUT IT’S IN JAPAN. That’s worth an article? Must be a slow news day at Wired.

So, why am I blogging about it? Because of this quote:

“Since joining Mr. Fujita’s school, I have had five successful relationships,” says Hachioji Robocop, a 27-year-old civil servant who has been taking the course since 2004. “I lost my virginity six months into the course, and now I can now communicate with women. I’m very grateful.”

This guy’s name is Hachioji Robocop. ROBOCOP. A man with the last name Robocop should NOT have problems meeting women in Japan. They LOVE robots in Japan! Unless all the anime I’ve seen is leading me in the wrong direction, and all that “The Japanese are so weird” reporting is messing with my head, I imagine things heading in a terrible direction for this man because of his name when he approaches women.

Seeing as this is Japan, you’d expect H. ROBOCOP to simply stop a random woman on the street and say:

“PANTIES. DROP THEM. YOU HAVE 3 SECONDS TO COMPLY.”

Or, when things go badly on a first date:

“DEAD OR ALIVE, YOU ARE COMING WITH ME TO MY SMALL APARTMENT FULL OF LAME ANIME FIGURES.”

After whatever awkward pawing has left H. Robocop unsatisfied, he’ll realize what he’s done.

“MADAME, YOU HAVE SUFFERED AND EMOTIONAL SHOCK. I WILL NOTIFY A RAPE CRISIS CENTER.”

There was a lull in everyone schedule. My friends from England had made some plans to visit some of their Korean friends around Daejeon. As luck would happen, I got a message from some of my foreigner friends saying they wanted to play Call of Duty 4 at a game room about the same time they would be out.

I brought my English friend along to the game room, while his wife had her friends visit our house. That way their children could stay here instead of being carted around town until later in the evening. My English friend had to bow out early to go visit someone for dinner however, and left me fighting for my life.

After an INTENSE set of games which ended in a virtual stalemate, I got ready to return home. The first thing I did was send a message off to my wife. I told her, “Be home soon!” Wow, what a mistake.

Thinking of tomorrow morning, I decided to pick up some bread for breakfast. I went into the nearby subway station and waited for the train. It was very slow to arrive, as this was weekend service. The train took so long to arrive, I pulled out my phone and played some games. When the train finally did arrive, I was so focused on this puzzle game I forgot to take my bread with me.

This wouldn’t be so bad, except it took me three stations to realize my mistake. I had to run out of the train, catch the returning train back to the original station, and hope to see my bread. I thought there was a good chance to find my bread because I had walked down the front of the station when I was waiting, so my bread wasn’t going to be seen by most people walking towards the exit.

Sure enough, my bread was still where I had left it. I grabbed it and headed back home. I arrived an hour later than I had expected. Luckily no one had been waiting on me, and the only person inconvenienced was myself. It was only a two thousand won loaf of bread. A year or two ago, I would have just left it in the station instead of going back to get it. It’s because of my wife’s influence that I had to go see if it was still there.

We’ve got visitors all the way from the merry old land of England. Busy.

My last class is a group of high school students I won’t teach in a few weeks. We usually only have two days of class, and I guess some of the students get the memo we had class today. The one student that showed up told me that she’d be going to Cambodia tomorrow. Seeing as no one else was going to show up, and I had BEEN to Cambodia, that became our new topic of discussion.I brought the student into the teacher’s room and pulled up the Flickr set that I had spent time editing. I wanted to give her names to recommend temples to see and advice how to get around.

She knew I had been to Cambodia, probably because I couldn’t stop talking about it whenever someone brings it up. She told me she’d be there for five days, and that they’d be going on a tour. She told her parents about my advice to see the temples backpacking and making your own way as the best way to see the Seim Reap area. Her parents are weary travelers and didn’t think it was “safe” enough for the family to go that route.

Instead they’ll go on a tour and get ripped off at every turn by the guide. Her parents said that on their “Free day” they’d even pay the guide to take them around to different places instead of doing their own thing. She was really annoyed her parents weren’t willing to be more adventurous. I told her NEVER to let go of the Angkor Wat visitor pass, as it would mean she would be locked out of seeing anything on her own. As long as her parents took care of that pass, they could get their own tuk-tuk and do a side trip to see stuff if they got a change of heart.

I also passed along the advice of the Cambodians I talked to: “Korean guides run scams everywhere they go, and if they translate for you at a market or shop, they get a cut of every transaction. They try to rip you off while claiming to be your best friend.”

I told her that every market and ever vendor speaks English in the tourist areas, so don’t let the guides handle anything for you involving money. It was certainly true when we visited. The markets were persistent in their haggling, and if you wanted a deal they’d work with you. I imagine the premium for even arriving somewhere in a foreign owned tour bus is a 50% price increase.  I don’t even blame vendors for trying to scam them, as the Korean tours don’t spread enough money into the local communities due to the guides owning every stop along the way.

Despite my negative feelings about Korean tours, I gave her a few hints and told her the coolest places we saw. She’s a very adventurous girl. If she takes some of my advice and gets her family to explore a bit on her own, that would be awesome. I’ll bring in my Cambodian tour book to see if she recalls any of the sights.

I got a surprise gift of chocolate in a heart shaped box this morning for Valentine’s Day. This being Korea, I’ve still got a month to get my act together for White Day, when men are expected to give candy to their significant others.

Had I eaten all the chocolate given to me by my students it would have caused serious tooth rot and stomach problems. Not so much because of the quantity, but the quality of Korean chocolate still leaves something to be desired. I will say that Korean chocolate is a LOT better than it used to be these days.

For dinner, my wife met me between classes at Mr.Pizza. This chain of pizza places is upscale for a Korean brand. We had a “Garden Secret” pizza, with roast chicken, lettuce, ranch dressing, blue cheese and a baked-in sweet potato crust. Despite the unconventional toppings, this is probably one of the best “Western” style Korean brand pizza’s I’ve ever had. It’s better than anything made by Pizza Hut by a mile, and it’s got a lot less oil than Dominoes. We could have had a pumpkin crust, but I decided to go for a “sweet potato” crust since it was more of a sure thing.

I remember one of my first dates with my wife, when we accidentally ordered a sweet potato pizza crust. I threw a hissy fit about a sweet tasting pizza and claimed it was an abomination that must be stopped. These days, I prefer sweet potatoes to pepperoni any day. Now I’m drawing the limit at pumpkin crust at the moment but that’s because the pizza was expensive and I didn’t know what it was going to taste like. I’m not even against the experimentation in what they can put on pizza anymore. Korean pizza continues to mutate, and my standards are far more accepting.

One of the doors at the school recently got a bit “sticky”. You’d close it, and it would take a twist or two of the knob before you could get it open again. Students trying to reenter the classroom would knock to get back inside. That was kind of nice. Otherwise it was just a small annoyance.

Today when I went to go teach a class in that room, the door was shut. Most of my students had run in front of me and were trying to get into the classroom before I arrived. However, several students were inside the room trying to get out to go home. The door had stuck really well, and no one could open it.

The standard trick involved using a coin to jiggle the lock to open the door. The door wasn’t locked from the inside, and nothing was holding it closed from inside the classroom. The door was just jammed shut really tightly. All the jiggling and pushing on the door I could do did nothing. The students in the classroom were freaking out. My suggestion of “GO OUT THE WINDOW” probably wasn’t what they wanted to hear. Thankfully they knew I was kidding.

The secretary arrived to try to help figure out the situation. I did my part by rounding up the students that were locked out and went to another classroom to start teaching. Let them figure out what’s going on, I’ve got a job to do. Of course, some of my students had no books. Others had their homework looked in the classroom. They were worried I was going to punish them even though it wasn’t their fault. I let them off the hook till the door was opened.

I waited for the other students to show up. Eventually a locksmith arrived. He got the students out, and we moved back into the classroom while he reinstalled a door knob. We all thanked him for coming so quickly, and for working so we could leave the class at the end of the hour.

Now that I get a new set of classes for this month, I’ve got the “joy” of teaching some of the students my foreign coworker has been complaining about for the past year. While my absolute least favorite students I gave him last year haven’t returned to me, I’ve got new, annoying students for at least the next month. If they last that long.

One of the students I learned about has done an amazing job of getting every teacher in the school to loathe him in a single month. He joined for intensive classes this winter, and by the end of the first day had teachers wanting to toss him out of class.

That’s amazing considering I work with people with the temperament of Ghandi on most days. Not me, of course. I carry a large stick (literally) and do my best to scare the crap out my students on the first day. It takes them a few weeks to realize I don’t hit anyone, and by that time they are out of my hair.

Of course, this student was in a class with several underachievers. This week my director implemented a seating chart to separate the boys and girl students into alternating rows. They should act as a “cootie barrier” preventing they students from coordinating their mischievous behavior.

We’ve also implemented a new bus schedule which has not gone over well. In ever class I teach, anyone dependent on a bus has a 50% shot of arriving on time, or 20 minutes late. This will be sorted out, eventually, but right now it’s a huge headache. Students attending classes for the first time don’t know that they have assigned seating. I have to make them go to their correct seats by pointing them to a seating chart posted outside the classroom. This is doubly annoying when class is in session.

The Winter Intensive Baddie was assigned a seat next to the door, which I really have to wonder was thought of to spare back of the teacher that eventually does grab him and throw him out of class by his ears. Until that time happens, he’s able to grab the door whenever anyone comes in and out of the class.

One of my new students arrived late in a class filled with that really bad student from Winter Intensive class. I escorted this new student to the wall chart posted to the right of the door. I had one foot in the door, one out. The Winter Intensive Baddie tried to grab the door and lock me out. Instead, the door hit my foot. He continued to try to push the door closed from his seat.

This would be cute if, say, a seven year old student tried this. He’s in 5th grade. I pushed the door back open with one hand, gave him a “What the hell?” sort of glare, and went back to showing the boy the seating chart.

The boy, not knowing when a good joke has worn out it’s welcome, grabbed the door AGAIN and tried to use the door to push me out. I’m twice as tall as he is, and he thinks lightly pushing on a door with a hand is going to send me flying out of the room? Did he think that if he locked the door I’d be helpless and unable to get back into the room?I gave him an exasperated, “You’re this dumb?” look and pushed the door back open.

Normally, when a student tries to get the upper hand on a teacher, the other students appreciate the effort and laugh or smirk at the least. The entire class was giving this boy a look that seemed to say, “STOP IT MORON. YOU’RE GOING TO PISS HIM OFF.” Not even the other bad students thought it was funny.

When I finally grabbed the student from outside, I caught the door shutting AGAIN. Messing with a teacher on your first day three times? You’ve GOT to be kidding me.

“Are you in fifth grade, or does this mean you are five years old? What does this say in the attendance? Oh, this has to be a mistake. Fifth grade? Really? No way.”

This student is combative with EVERYONE. It’s pretty clear this student is trying to raise enough hell to get kicked out of school. I’ve been teaching students like this for years. If I get creative enough, he’ll WISH he was in my coworker’s classes from now on.

A few months ago, I got a message from a student I taught at my second school in Korea. She told me that she was going to attend a university in Seoul. She asked to get together some time with another student I had taught in her class that she keeps in touch with. I remember this student fondly, and her entire class was really cool. It’s rare I can remember a single student, let alone a whole class! If I’m ever in Seoul, I might send them a message to see what they are doing. I’d like to keep in touch.
Sending a message back and forth with some students from long ago is cool. I can’t believe students I taught as middle school children so long ago are now entering universities! I mean, logically it makes sense, but really? These students are going to good schools! They remember me as making a difference with their English education! I’ve helped someone achieve their goal! That is totally kick ass.

Anyway, I had another one of these strange occurances today. I have a class of high school students for a month before their schedules change and prevent them from attending our classes anymore. I’ve been teaching these kids for a while, but today a new student arrived. He’ll only be attending this class for the rest of the month.

I thought, “Why bother with a few weeks of class?”. He does have a bother, so perhaps his parents got some sort of deal to enroll them together at a reduced fee. I can’t be sure why he’s started at this time, but the more the merrier in a small class.

We go through our entire lesson discussing which room in a house is the most important. We did an outline to a prepared speech, then wrote our own speeches on the topic. I go through listening to all the speeches, critique them, suggest more advanced expressions. Finally, whent he bell rings, I ask the new student about the class.

He told me he liked it, but then asks me a few questions. “Hey, are you from Ohio? Do you live in this particular neighborhood?”

I joke, “What are you, a stalker? Yes, that’s right. How do you know all of that? You are new.”

“I think you were my old English teacher. I used to study with you at that school in this old neighborhood.”

WEIRD.

This boy was in fourth or fifth grade when I used to teach him a long, long time ago. Now he’s in high school, and he’s back in my class. He won’t be around for long. I don’t recall him at all. I guess I didn’t do anything traumatic to this boy, as he seemed happy to share this information.

When this sort of thing happens, it’s just another reminder of how long I’ve been here, how small the English community is, and why you never, ever want to piss off a student’s parents. My director thought it was a delightful coincidence.