First week of school... atleast I survived.

If I’m being honest, this last week has not been the easiest. There have been a lot of ups and downs for me, and more than a few moments where I have wanted to break down into tears, wondering just what I have gotten myself into.

I began teaching two weeks ago (August 17th) and spent that first week leading two different week-long English conversation “camps.” These camps were actually glorified summer school classes in which I had free reign to find materials and create activities for the kids— provided that the students remained within the bounds of the classroom for an entire three hour block. Each group—morning and afternoon—was made up of about twenty 1st grade (equivalent to 7th grade in the U.S.) students, and we ended up having a blast together. I built a camp around the idea of introducing the students to 7 different English speaking countries, and allowing them to generate vocabulary words in order to talk about and play games related to those places. Things went great with the morning class right from the start; the kids were enthusiastic, responsive, and fun—it was a teacher’s dream. The afternoon class hit a few road bumps the first day—I tried to get the kids out of their seats to play some ice breakers and to do charades, but this made many of them extremely uncomfortable and apprehensive, which subsequently made me feel more like their torturer rather than their teacher. However, the next day I made some adjustments that put them more at ease, so that by the middle of that second day the afternoon kids were just as active and engaged as my morning students. By the end of this English camp experience, I had that “wow, I can actually do this,” feeling and was looking forward to starting up the official school year.

My excitement, however, was quickly replaced by feelings of confusion and frustration as the first day of class began to unfold. I arrived early to set up my class room and to get mentally prepared. I waited in nervous anticipation as the bell rang signaling the end of homeroom and kids began rushing into the halls, presumably headed for their first period classes. I opened the classroom door and gave my most inviting smile, but only received a few hello teacher’s as the students raced by. When the second bell rung I was left facing an empty classroom and wondering if I had somehow misunderstood the schedule—not an unlikely possibility, considering the entire thing was, of course, in Korean. Worried that all of the rest of my classes and plans for the day would be thrown off, I began reviewing all of the paperwork that the school had given me. Finding nothing new there, however, I finally resigned myself to the fact that I would not be able to figure this out, and I settled down at my desk, hoping against hope that my next class would actually show up.

About 30 minutes later, one of my co-workers came rushing into my classroom, looking a little flustered. “You should go downstairs to introduce yourself to the school,” she proclaimed. I gave her a blank look. “Right now?” “Yes,” she nodded, obviously wondering why I seemed so confused. “The principal already introduced you on the video and the other new teachers spoke… I thought someone let you know.” Nope. No one had let me know. And little did I know that I would be hearing that phrase a lot throughout the rest of the week.

This particular incident set the tone for what would turn out to be a very confusing and haphazard first day. I had planned to spend the first day with each class establishing a list of class rules. I figured this would allow me to gauge their level of English (the only thing I had been told was that it was “very low”), as well as help build an active and collaborative classroom environment. As I began to introduce this idea to my first class however, my Korean “co-teacher” for that class—whose job is essentially to help me with classroom management—took me aside and told me that the students had already established class rules last semester with their old English teacher. I was confused, because I was teaching a class of first year middle school students who I assumed were new to the school, until it occurred to me that fall must actually be the second semester for students at my school. This question was not, after all, something that I had thought to ask. I had simply assumed that the end of summer vacation marked the beginning of a new school year in the same way that it does at home in the States, and I imagine that I was never informed of by the principal or other teachers at my school that this is not the case because this format is the norm for them. So while I completely understand how such a misunderstanding could happen, and fully take responsibility for the fact that I did not research thoroughly enough into the South Korean public education system, the fact remains that I was nonetheless quite set back on my heels. I had to scrap my entire plan for the day and, instead, had the class review the rules that they had already made, lectured them a little about my expectations for the class—which I am fairly certain that most of them did not understand—and then played the “2 truths and a lie” activity that I had originally only planned to use to fill any extra time left over at the end of class. I fumbled through the rest of day in this way and managed to survive, but it certainly was not what I would consider getting off on the right foot.

Given that I have no training and very little experience relevant to teaching ESL to middle school students, virtually all that I have to rely on is my ability to build rapport with the students and to create a comfortable and safe learning environment for them-- so it was a particularly terrible feeling to be crippled in those areas from the very beginning. And as the week progressed, the enormity of my task started to sink in. I teach 22 classes (sometimes more) per week. Each of these classes consists of a different group of 40 students with whom I spend just one 45 minute period. This means that I have nearly 900 kids that I see in a week. Most of these kids are very afraid to make mistakes, and they either fear or resent English because such a heavy emphasis is placed on their English test scores here in Korea. And it is my job to lead them all in practicing English conversation using exercises from a text book.

As you can imagine, this situation presents a number of challenges: (1) 40 students is a huge number for a conversation class in which the kids are fighting me tooth and nail not to speak in English-- a large group activity is too big to keep everyone active, but if they are broken into small groups or pairs they immediately resort back to using Korean; (2) 45 minutes is no time at all with such a large group-- the kids barely get warmed up and then they have to leave; (3) the activities that I can try are restricted by text books that either (a) leave little room for much else or (b), by the admission of more than one of my co-teachers, are extremely boring; (4) building rapport with nearly 900 students when seeing them only once a week (and, of course, given factors 1-3) is going to be extremely difficult, if not impossible; (5) because factor 4 is such a struggle, and because students have already set patterns of behavior during their last semester together, classroom management is proving to be extremely difficult... and everyone knows how much I hate conflict as well setting myself as the "authority figure"-- it truly drains every bit of energy that I have; (6) I have 6 different co-teachers and, while I truly appreciate and genuinely like each of them (not a small thing by any means!), they do each have their own set of expectations and standards for the class that I have to take into consideration-- I am in charge of the content of the class while they are there to help with any misunderstandings as well as with classroom management, so having a supportive and engaged co-teacher is extremely helpful, but having a co-teacher for whom the kids have no respect is equally detrimental; (7) as I mentioned, the social pressure that is placed on these kids with respect to education, and particularly English education, is impossibly high-- Korea is a nation obsessed-- and this has a visible impact on my kids-- especially the 3rd grade (equivalent of 9th grade in the U.S.) students, who will soon be moving into the world of the Korean high-school, in which they will be expected to go to school from 8am-10pm, attend hagwon (private academy) until midnight, go home, complete their homework, get a few precious hours of sleep and get up to do it all again the next day; and finally, (8) schedules and information at my school is rarely conveyed ahead of time-- for instance I did not recieve my schedule until the day before classes began, and yesterday (Friday) I recieved an updated schedule which included two new classes for Monday. Details are almost never given, even in response to a specific question. I think this is a completely normal thing for Korean teachers and they are all used to working this way, but it has been a difficult adjustment for me as a new teacher not to really be able to plan details in advance-- it has left me feeling very out of control, which, as you can tell from all of the factors that I have just listed, I truly am.

And because of all of this, for the first few days of this past week, I went to work dreading each class. My time in the classroom was just so far from what I had envisioned as successful, and I could feel my energy depleting with every class period that went by. This feeling was discouraging to me and made me wonder how I could possibly survive an entire year this way, but more than that it made me really sad. My own disdain for class time felt immensely unfair to my students, who deserve to have a teacher who looks forward to the time that she is with them.

After a couple tearful conversations with some people very close to me, however, I have been able to shift my mindset a little. I certainly needed the opportunity to honestly voice my frustrations to a sympathetic ear, but now I am hoping that I will be able to move forward. The fact of the matter is that I have identified a lot of issues-- many of which I do not have the power to immediately resolve-- and the most I can do is to take that knowledge and work within the framework that I have been given to make the most of a situation that is less than ideal. I think I share this sentiment with almost every teacher out there-- I want what is best for the kids, so even while the system is making it difficult both for them to get the best and for me to give my best, my focus is to be on doing whatever I can for them, however small, for those precious 45 minutes every week. I can-- and already have-- found small ways, and little moments to break through with just a few students, and for now, that is going to have to be enough.