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Korean government releases 'culture guidelines' for foreigners to follow

Source: Reach to Teach Recruiting

Back in December, the Korean government indicated it may require foreign English teachers to take cultural lessons before beginning their teaching careers here. After careful consideration of which cultural elements to include in the curriculum, the following statement has been released by the National Institute for International Education (NIIED):

"The new class on Korean culture will be required for all English teachers living in Korea, working in Korea, or breathing Korean air. Since Korea makes air purifiers that are available all around the world, that includes you too," the statement begins.

This reporter skipped to page 15, after reading 13 pages introducing the Korean school system, hangeul (the Korean alphabet), and Korea's four distinct seasons:

During this culture class, you will learn many elements of the Korean culture you must adapt to:
Speaking nicely to all Koreans
Treating older people with absolute deference
Treating younger people with absolute deference
Treating people the same age as your friends - but remember, they're still above you
Expect to pay more for the identical thing than a Korean would - remember, they're above you
If female, expect to be pinched, prodded, and commented on. All old Korean men do this - and remember, they're above you.
If fat, expect to be pinched, prodded, and commented on. All Korean people do this whether they're anorexic or just skinny.
If your face isn't white, don't look surprised if Koreans believe you speak African instead of English.

In addition, there are a number of things foreigners should not attempt to do, even though Koreans do them all the time:
Push onto the subway before other people have gotten off
Smoke indoors
Push to the front of the line at the store, ignoring the fact that there is a line
Crawl under subway turnstiles
Talk badly about people from other countries or cultures
Walk four-wide down the sidewalk, stumbling after drinking too much alcohol

These lists are not meant to be all-inclusive, and we're positive there will be more things added with no warning. Failure to comply with any items, whether published or not, can lead to a warning or termination of your employment, of course.

This reporter researched the people behind the statement - of the 11 men and women credited with the statement's creation, none are or have ever been teachers in their life. "We interviewed a student on what they thought was the best way to teach," an addendum states, in a 6-point font. Additionally, of the 11 names, three were no longer working with the National Institute for International Education, two were under investigation for bribing a number of school officials, and two were dead.

This reporter is at a loss to explain how dead people can write.

This post, along with others sporting the 'satire' tag are satire - completely made up. Not real. Don't drink and rollerblade. That is all.

© Chris Backe - 2010

This post was originally published on my blog, Chris in South Korea. If you are reading this on another website and there is no linkback or credit given, you are reading an UNAUTHORIZED FEED.

—

Oneweirdglobe.com

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A quick update...

As I've mentioned, they are painting my school. This afternoon they decided to finish painting the teacher's room. Not in the morning when there is no one there but in the afternoon when we are all working. This wouldn't be such a big deal if paint fumes didn't make me nauseous and/or high. It brought back memories of my studio art class in Paris. One day I made the mistake of sitting next to a girl who was overly enthusiastic about her turpentine. Upon leaving class, this conversation ensued:
K (my friend): Are you okay Alex?
Me: ~Giggles stupidly~. I think so, why do you ask?
K: You keep giggling and ...you are walking more bizarrely than usual.
Me: ~Giggles some more~. That girl next to me was using some seriously smelly stuff.
K: The turpentine?
Me: I think so...~laughs stupidly~...wait a second. I think, I think I might have gotten accidentally high!
K: ~Starts laughing with me/at me~

It didn't last for terribly long but I was fairly ridiculous while it did. The sleep deprivation didn't help. ANYWAYS. I'm sitting quietly at my desk in the teacher's room reading my usual education blogs and such when I notice the smell is really starting to get to me. I put on my face mask (and yes, it did look completely toolish to wear that inside) and tried breathing shallowly. As you can imagine, it didn't work so well. After about 5 minutes, the head teacher probably noticed my increasingly gray face told me very sternly to go home. It was the first time I didn't argue with her to stay until I finished whatever inane task I had given myself for the afternoon. I was just like 'thank you! many allergies!' Turned off my computer and bolted. My head still feels a bit funny. I have no idea how the painters go without even wearing basic face masks.

Dear Lungs/head,
Please stop hating me. I rescued you from the fumes.
Love,
Alex

—

http://aaaalexsadventuresinasia.blogspot.com/

Oh the Joy of Winter Camp

So this was probably the least successful first day. It was the most successful in that we actually got every single planned activity done and hit up everything from my filler list. This class was far more advanced and smaller than the others so they went through the material much faster. I managed to make it work but I wish I could have some idea of class level before walking in. Wishful thinking, I know but it would be nice. I also have several students who ended up with my relative's English names...and I didn't chose them. Very random and yet easy to remember.

They are really going gung-ho with the painting of the school and it reeks of chemicals. On the plus side someone figured out that they couldn't finish painting my classroom while I was teaching so they must have done it Friday afternoon or Saturday. In any case, it looks fabulous except for the paint splatters on the floor. Advice on how to get rid of those? My co-teacher doesn't seem to be bothered by them but I'm a tad too OCD to let it slide.

Today I was given a free calender by someone in our school because "I am so beautiful." I feel like hearing this should get less awkward as the year goes on and yet I feel embarrassed every time. It's far worse than someone drunkenly proclaiming this to you in a bar or club. I also seem much more likely to then trip over something after such a proclamation. At least I was sitting down when it was presented to me.

Absolutely nothing planned for this evening except for dragging myself to E-Mart. I tend to put this off for as long as possible but I am out of breakfast cereal which counts as a dire situation.

Little Wonderful Tasty Minds

I was told by the Swedes that marängsviss is thought of as a children's desert because it's so simple and it stars tasty treats which on their own, children love in a big way.

1. Whipped Cream

2. Ice Cream

3 and 4 and 5
Chocolate Sauce, Crushed Meringues, and Chopped Bananas

Mix it all together....

Et voilà! You've got yourself a desert! Although, I think it might be a little too delicious to share with boys.

From Manila

Manila has a reputation for being a bit of a shithole, and I can't say that it's unfounded. It's rotting, crumbling, and loud, with filthy sidewalks and air that tastes like a diesel pizza. Yes, a lot of travelers do poo-poo Manila, and while they're not wrong, per se, I think that the city has a bit of charm if you scratch a bit beneath the surface.

Keep in mind I have only been here for less than ONE DAY.

We arrived late last night, taking the East Asian red eye express from Busan. Immigration and customs were painless, and before we knew it we were in a taxi heading straight for our hotel, which I had booked over the internet. Yes, it is overpriced, at about 40 bucks a night for a very small room with two lumpy beds, but sometimes piece of mind is worth it. I wasn't about to roll into one of Southeast Asia's most notorious cities at 2 a.m. with no confirmed place to stay.

We're staying in the district known as Malate, which is host to a load of hotels, restaurants, and girly bars. It's a bit similiar to the area around Soi Nana in Bangkok, though much smaller and definitely more run down. After checking in, Sam and I wandered the streets, resisting the calls from each bar to come in and see "beautiful laydeee," and instead sat our asses down at an outdoor affair, where we watched the street life while sipping from ridiculously cheap bottles of San Miguel, the local beer.

We woke up today in the late morning and grabbed a breakfast at the Cafe Adriatico, named for the street that makes up the main drag of Malate. While a bit spendy by local standards, I had the pleasure if eating one of the best omelettes of my life, and boosted by caffein and egg power, we got our walk on.

One of the reasons this city is so maligned among travelers is that, aside from getting drunk and banging whores, there's not a whole lot for the tourist to do (within the city center, at least). We spent the day wandering through the walled Spanish old town of Intramuros, taking photos of the streetlife and seeing the lovely cathedral. We managed to make our way into the slummy area of the district as well, walking down streets where we were both subjected to friendly hellos and hard, thug stares. There is a simmering sense of violence here. Most of the people are the friendliest I've encountered in all of Asian, but some of them look at you like a dog does a raw T-bone. After that we visited Fort Santiago, an instillation built by the Spanish and occupied, at different times, by the British, Americans, Japanese, and finally the Philippinos themselves.

This city is a gritty one, to be sure. Many of the building seem encased in tropical mildew; the poverty kicks you in the nuts. Whole families lay on the sidewalks, with pantsless, filthy children pawing in the muck. They've recently built an immaculate golf course next Intramuros, which is full of bloated Aussies and dour Koreans hitting white balls while their eager-to-please Philippino caddies sprint behind. On the other side of the fence lie countless groups of destitute locals, cooking on open fires, passing the days in demoralizing poverty. It is truly obscene, but aren't all golf courses?

I'm not immune from such obscenity myself, coming here as a tourist, throwing my money at bar tabs and breakfasts while people are scraping for rice just down the block. I chuck some change to the random beggar (to give to all would bankrupt me, and does it do any good to begin with?), but am reallly here to satisfy my own curiosities and indulgences...

I've travelled around Asia plenty now and have seen a lot of poor folks, but, aside from Cambodia, the poor of Manila take the cake - and I've just seen a decimal of a fraction. Keep in mind that I have not yet been to India, where they are said to do poverty expertly.

Tomorrow we will jump on a bus and go north to the province of La Union, where we will stay with our friend Keoni, who evidently has a very nice house right on the beach. It's always best to stay with locals for at least part of any journey, so we're as keen as beans, if I may invent a really stupid idiom.

Christmas Eve and Kopi Luwak

Yulim invited us to a Christmas Eve pot-luck party, which we were going to go to. So at around 7pm I made some nachos for us to bring, but we later found out that we wouldn't be starting until 10:30pm. So Heather and I stared at the nachos for a while and then decided it best to have our own 2 person Eve party at home.

How do you turn a plate of nachos into a party for two? Open 2 cans of beer and cook some ramyeon.

The party started off a little quietly with just some nibbling of corn chips and sour cream. By the time we got to the ramyeon though, the party was in full swing with Heather's Gomplayer playlist on in the background and me entertaining the both of us with my anecdotes of life in Korea.

Heather has been doing a bit more cooking lately and is starting to develop her own signature style, which I have termed 'Conglomerative Cooking'. In the photo above is a fusion dish she made, which is a mixture of Korean pajeon and Japanese okonomiyaki.

It was pretty good.

This is a locker rack for personal umbrellas at our local mogyoktang. Korea in general doesn't have much of a thievery problem compared to Australia, but on occasion I have had my umbrella 'unwittingly borrowed' from a restaurant collection bin.

Jae-Eun from Sejong University recently bought some Kopi Luwak and let me try some. This is a special kind of coffee that is found in the faeces of the palm civet. Civets eat the ripest berries, and their digestive tract also changes the flavour of the coffee. Roboseyo recently tried it also. In Australia, it sells for AU$50 per cup.

It tastes not so different from normal coffee, but quite rich and a little bitter. Worth a try, but only so that you can say you have.

One thing we're trying these days is an experiment involving rice leaves. But for it to work, the leaves need to lay flat on some clear gel, which they don't like to do. Rakshya and I had a makeshift idea to use the weight of nails to pin them down.

It works.

And here are my tobacco plants, looking a little unhappy after an agrobacterium infiltration. In this experiment, we use a needleless syringe to inject bacteria into the spaces between leaf cells. The bacteria multiply in the spaces and do some useful work for us in there.
These days in the laboratory, work is piling up. Science is all about reliable results, which are hard to come by. My success rate so far is about 20%, which is pretty average. It's all about figuring out what went wrong and improving on the technique. At times I feel like a molecular Sherlock Holmes, but not as smart or exciting.

OUTTA HERE

I'm off to the Philippines for a month, where I shall learn to scuba dive, eat balut (chicken fetuses still in the egg), and get some serious writing done. Or silly writing done. Whatever the case, I'm bringing a laptop with me and intend on using it.

Keep your eyes peeled to this here blog for, hopefully, some amusing posts about my adventures. The Philippines is a new country for me, in that I haven't been there before, so things should be nice and fresh.

On Jehovah's Witnesses in Korea

The one set of Koreans who all seem to speak English perfectly are the Jehovah's Witnesses. If you get stopped in the street, in a shop or on the bus and the person's English is fantastic, it's a Jehovah's witness. They worm their way into your conversation with very polite and engaging questions about where you are from, your life, etc and then finish it off with a pamphlet and invitation to come to a meeting or church. Saying you are Jewish or any other religion has absolutely no effect. The best thing to do is take the pamphlet and run. I have no idea who is teaching the Jehovah's Witnesses English but if their language program got made public, I think all of the expats would quickly be out of work. This is my favorite comic ever by Luke Martin over at ROKetship. Go look. No really, go now.

Okay, now that you've read the comic: This has actually happened to people I know in Korea, where they find out where you live and harass you constantly trying to get you to go to church with them. It borders on stalking/harassment. I have heard about many a person hiding in their apartment with all of the lights turned off, trying to be quiet when they ring the doorbell.

People, this is why you never tell the friendly people where you live. Or even what neighborhood.

I'm off to go dancing with friends in Busan. I'm kind of tired but I love dancing. I was supposed to go last night but it was a terrible ankle day so we ended up just drinking and chatting. I also disillusioned Hooligan 1 who thought that Busan and Pusan were two different cities...instead of the same one with 2 different spellings. It was highly amusing. I laughed at the Hooligan's expense for a good 10 minutes.

Hooligan 1: Yeah I live near Busan.
Other people: Pusan?
Hooligan 1: No, BUsan, not Pusan. It's nearby.

...Me: This is why you need to learn the Korean alphabet buddy. :-p All in good fun though and I do have the Hooligan's permission to mock things like this mercilessly in a public forum. After all, Hooligan 1 isn't really an easy to guess moniker.

It's not 2005

In an apartment in Jinju, South Korea, I am sitting on the ondol-heated floor, smoking another cigarette.

CNN International is on. It's a full hour before I head back to class at a small hagwon down the street, on the main road, on the third floor, above a restaurant where we often have our dinners brought from, unless Emily, the director, makes her excellent kimchi jigae for us. Once or twice, she splurged and bought Chinese take out, which she noted was very expensive. It was probably the chicken, chicken always seems expensive in South Korea, except for the chicken sandwich at Popeye's I got one time, not because I was hungry, just because I wanted to see what it tasted like. It tasted like a chicken sandwich bought at a Popeye's in South Korea.

Steve has left. He had enough of South Korea. Madeleine has said nothing here thrills her very much, and if the writing on the signs outside the window to the Pizza Hut were not in Korean, she'd be hard-pressed not to mistake downtown Jinju for some spot in Toronto. But, The Boss tells me to hang in there. Hang in there, Jersey, she tells me. Give it time, we all get the blues, yeah? she says in her Australian accent. Kristy says it took her three months before she started settling in, and now she is having a great time. R. tells me over the phone how difficult the first three months in America were. How she cried all the time because she missed her sister and her parents back home in Iran, and she didn't know when she would see them again. After three months, it got easier. She still missed them, but she met people. She met me. It gets easier.

I reach for another cigarette. Almost out. Didn't I have half-a-pack when I woke up a couple hours ago? No wonder my throat is cat-scratched-out. No wonder I can't think clearly, my head is full of smoke. No wonder I haven't gotten over R., I haven't gotten off the phone. No wonder I haven't found my place in Korea, I haven't left this fucking apartment.

I pick up the phone and dial the number. Singapore Airlines? I need a one-way ticket to Newark Liberty International Airport. Christmas Eve. 2005.

Except, it's not 2005.

Steve is long gone from Korea, shacked up and getting domesticated in New Zealand. Madeleine may be married by now. Kristy is somewhere out there, canoeing across pictures on Facebook. Haven't seen R. in over three years. That restaurant may still be there but the hagwon could be long gone by now. If not, that apartment might not house their current English teacher, it might be the home of just another local yokel. Dunhill's might not be sold at the little mom and pop down the street. Mom and Pop might be dead. Popeye's might be a Starbucks. Not a single person I met over 40 days over four years ago might be left in that city of 350,000. They probably wouldn't recognize me if they were. I keep my hair cut close these days and I wear different glasses now.

It's not 2005. It hasn't been 2005 in almost five years. So much has happened in five years. If I get the itch, maybe I'll take a train over to Jinju one day and see what's left. Maybe I won't want to once I'm there. Because it's not 2005. It's 2010, and I am going to teach English in Busan.

—

—John Dunphy

Koreabridge