Mean Teacher

So this was a rough week for me, both in my occupational and personal life.  It was the first time that I disciplined a whole class, confiscated items, and even make a student cry.  I hate being a mean teacher and laying down the law.  But sometimes, given the circumstances, it's absolutely necessary and deserved.  But let me start off by saying that in terms of behavioral problems, I am extremely lucky.  Over 90% of the time, my students are attentive, motivated, and respectful little angels.  In comparison to many of my Fulbright peers, I have it easy.

During my first week of teaching, I laid down my five non-negotiable classroom rules, along with a system of rewards and punishments.  However, I haven't had to reinforce these rules or punishments because, up until this point, I've literally had no incidents in my classes.  I suppose that in some ways, I'm to blame because I didn't take an authoritative stance from the beginning and chose to adopt more of a "big sister" teaching persona.  But following the old proverb "if it ain't broke, don't fix it," I frankly didn't see the point of hammering down on discipline if there were no behavioral issues to speak of.

In nearly every aspect of school life, this has been a positive decision on my part.  Students feel very comfortable asking questions if they need clarification, sharing snacks with me in between classes, and striking conversation with me if they see me around town.  However, this was the first week, in which it was painfully difficult to be a foreign teacher.  It all came to a head this past Tuesday when I experienced blatant disrespect and apathy in the classroom.  After over 3 months of near perfect behavior, I suppose this dreaded day was overdue.

To be fair, it's getting into final exam season and my students' fascination with the new foreign teacher has worn off.  Students are visibly stressed and sleep-deprived.  The smiles that once shined brightly on their faces have been replaced by dark under-eye circles.  Now that students feel the pressure of exams, it seems that some of them no longer care about my class, and understandably so.  My class doesn't count toward their overall English grade so there's no tangible repercussion if they don't pay attention to the lesson or doze off. 

Now, of course, that doesn't give students the green light to just do whatever they want.  I still expect that they will participate in class and treat me with respect.  Tuesdays are usually a good day because I only teach 3 classes and finish early.  Although they are all lower-level classes, my Tuesday kids are usually some of my sweetest students.  I honestly don't know what happened this past week.  Some students refused to take part in the lesson's activity and talked back when I insisted otherwise.  In addition, many students shamelessly fell asleep.  When I tried to wake them, they gave me a dirty look and proceeded to resume their peaceful slumber.

After this happened 3 classes in a row, I felt like I either wanted to cry or break something.  It was so frustrating, especially since I spent way too many hours preparing the exciting survival scenario lesson for this week.  Furthermore, I caught several students using their cell phones in class.  In my school, this is an absolute no-no.  Just one offense will result in confiscation for a full week - this is my school's rule, not mine.  When I saw this happening, I had no choice but to take away their cell phones.  Some tried to protest but I immediately responded with my "No, I am not kidding, you better hand it over right now Death Stare." 

After class, some of the cell phone perpetrators came to my office and tried to plead with me for an early release.  I asked the other teachers in my office for advice, and they assured me that they never make exceptions to the rule so I shouldn't either.  Nonetheless, the students handed me apology letters, which may, on rare occasion, win sympathy points for their case.  It was blatantly obvious that these C and D-level students didn't write the letters, as they were written in perfect English, using advanced vocabulary.  They must've convinced their A-level friends to write it for them: a fact, that I found wholly unacceptable.

I needed to do something to show that I still had the upper hand and wouldn't stand for any kind of short-cuts.  Therefore, I forced each student to read her letter out-loud to me and all the other teachers in my office.  Due to the advanced vocabulary, the students struggled with the pronunciation of many words, like apologetic.  I forced them to read each sentence again and again until they got the pronunciation correct.  The students were dreadfully embarrassed the whole time.  But after they finished reading, they had the nerve to hold their hand out and demand their phone back.

When I informed them that I could not make exceptions to the rule, they burst out crying.  I had to turn away.  Otherwise, I knew that I'd give in.  Finally, I agreed that I'd give it back on Friday, so that they'd have it for the weekend.  Ugh, it was a terrible experience.  Unfortunately, it did not get much better after that.  Every day at lunch time, I eat with the teachers.  It's mostly quiet when while we eat, but I try to initiate brief conversations in a mix of Korean and English.  Usually, my efforts are well received but on that day, some teachers made a point to test my knowledge of Korean.

They began asking me questions at a rapid speed, purposefully using very difficult vocabulary.  When I asked them to slow down and repeat, they snickered at me and just shrugged it off as, "Oh duh, of course she doesn't understand.  She's a foreigner."  It was humiliating, especially since I could understand them, poking fun at me after I seemingly failed their impromptu test.  None of this was meant to be spiteful or hurtful in anyway.  But after a miserable day of teaching, the last thing I wanted to do was perform tricks like some circus animal.

After all of this, I walked into the parking lot, sat down behind a row of cars, and broke down.  It was the first moment, in which I truly felt homesick.  I began to question what I was doing in Korea, so far away from my loved ones back home.  It was probably one of the lowest points I've had since arriving in Korea five months ago.  My emotional response was undoubtedly magnified by the fact that 1) I'm STILL suffering from this coughing plague and the medications I'm on don't seem to be doing anything, except making me drowsy; and 2) I'll be home in 3 weeks and it's so close, I can almost taste it.

Nearly all of my experiences in Korea, thus far, have been overwhelming positive.  This moment of vulnerability was just a strong dose of reality, in an otherwise perfect fairytale.  Please don't get me wrong.  I love what I'm doing and I'm so thankful for this opportunity.  But some days are extremely challenging and emotionally exhausting.  It's amazing how much my overall mood can be affected by the success of my lessons.  Over 90% of the time, my classes go without a hitch and students respond with motivation and excitement.  On these days, I feel like I can conquer the world.  But on the rare occasion that my lesson tanks and students grossly misbehave, I feel demoralized and question my worth, as a teacher, foreigner, and cultural ambassador.

The reason I write this post is not to elicit pity nor dissuade anyone from applying to this or any similar program.  My experiences in Korea have been life-changing and more wonderful than I could have ever imagined.  Yet that's not to say that these five months have, in any way, been easy.  Every day is a challenge: a challenge to knock down the language barrier and communicate effectively, a challenge to have an impact in the lives of my students, and a challenge to find my place in this foreign country.  It's still too early to determine what my legacy in Korea will be.  But I know that with each bump in the road, I'm becoming a stronger person and inching closer to finding my true purpose here.