Hello Mr. Kang!

Korean children study, a lot. Fortunately enough, for those of us looking for jobs here in the 'land of the morning calm', Korean parents force their children to study, a lot. Unlike back home, where after school activities typically include playing some sport, socializing with friends, walking home, riding bikes around town, and so forth, Korean 'youngins' study anything and everything from robot building, to playing musical instruments, to English, to Maths, to Lego building (in English!). Hagwon is the Korean name for such after-school private institutions, where little Korean kiddies flood, between that last school bell, tae-kwon-do practice, dinner, homework, and sleep. Hagwons even offer Kindergarten (English Kindergarten) classes for Korean children as young as 3 years-old (western aged 3, anyway).

Although I work for the public school system here in Jeju, my job is more similar to that of a private institute. The Jeju government has established 'The Centers' in an attempt to offer an alternative to Korean families, who do not have the funds to send all of their children to expensive English hagwons. The Center is free for all students, ranging from 1st graders to middle schoolers, and even adult students. My job entails then, teaching a maximum of 16 children (or adults) per class, four times a week for 50 minute classes. The differences in English level I see each day ranges from 2nd graders who are happy to ask each other 'How are you' and giggle when they scream in excitement, 'I'M HAPPY!!!' to middle schoolers who sift through English newspapers in order to complete my assignments. The Center has been a fabulous place to work for my first two years in Jeju, but it, like all things in Korea encompasses some annoying aspects that can be truly hilarious.

A couple of weeks ago, the second in command here at the center, Mr. Kang, was strolling the hallways during our last class hour. Mr. Kang is a smiley, silver-haired, short Korean man, who, despite working in the government-funded language institute, can speak no other languages besides Korean. Before beginning class, I was showing 2 members of my whopping 6- student-class a video on the internet about polar bears. Mr. Kang walked past my open door, peered in suspiciously, and looked at his watch, signaling to me, that he thought I should be teaching now, instead of showing my students a polar bear video. I waited a few minutes more, as 2 of my students had not arrived to class yet, and when the last of my middle schoolers arrived, I asked (surely because of Mr. Kang's disapproving eyes) that she close my door.

We began class chatting about their all-school, all-subject exam day each of them had just finished; how they thought they'd done, if the tests were difficult, if the English section was difficult and so forth. Ji Eun, the chattiest of my students was explaining how they could check the answers to their tests after school, so everyone pretty much knew how they'd preformed when mid sentence, she noticed the the window behind my white board opening and she said, "Ummm Arielle Teacher, that window's opening, mind if I check out who's behind there?" I smiled and said, "Go for it!" Ji Eun crept up below the window, slid the white board to the side stood up in front of the window, and yelled 'boo!' Her face quickly turned to terror, she shut the window, started laughing uncontrollably, and quickly made it back to her seat. She pointed toward the door. "Your boss, your head boss!" She said. I opened the door, saw Mr. Kang, smiled and said, "Hello Mr. Kang! If you'd like to observe the class, please have a seat. We'd be happy to have you in here." Certainly understanding little to nothing of what I said, he shook his head, smiled out of embarrassment, and quickly turned the corner out of my sight.

A few minutes later, Mr. Kang was back to his old shinanigans, opening more of my windows. This time, at the rear of my class, behind the students, in the direction I was facing, he slid open another one of my windows. This time, however there was no white board to hide his sneaking little face. When our eyes met, I repeated my offer, "Really, Mr. Kang, if you'd like to watch the class, please come in, and have a seat." He uncomfortably laughed again and quickly slid the window closed.

I know there must be some cultural, generational, possibly even gender differences here that make it very hard for me to understand the motivation behind Mr. Kang's sneaky window sliding! But, I reckon I don't even want to completely comprehend his class checking impetus, after all, these diversities and misunderstandings make for such sweet stories!

Jogging along the streets of Jeju...

I, like all amateur runners, have a love-hate relationship with jogging. Every time I go for a run, I have to force myself to strap-on my shoes, get my hip-hopy, loud, fast, energetic playlist ready, fasten a watch with numbers large enough for my eyes to read at a bouncing distance, lock my door, store my key in my sports bra and hit the pavement at a pace so slow walkers have occasionally passed me. Despite all this struggle, however, I continue to run. I've been amateur-ally running for nearly 10 years now, and have taken the occasional monthly break, but always return to forcing myself out that door and hitting the pavement.

My relationship towards being a runner is a little more straightforward. I simply don't like it and I refuse, to look like a runner. My sportswear (for every athletic activity I participate in) consists of old, holey, black leggings, sports bras with little to no elasticity, a tight Adidas tennis dress that I found for $5 at an op-shop a few years ago, and until a few weeks ago, running shoes purchased nearly 5 years past. And as the winter has crept its chilly breath into the air, my running attire, with each old layer has, I fear, only become more ridiculous.

Last year, Dunkin Donuts, here on the island, had a promotional Christmas package, where lucky customers could purchase these enormous earmuffs equipped with headphones inside the white fluffy muff. To accessorize accordingly (and in a very Korean fashion), the earmuffs also sport a small chord-storing, bum-less, meant-to-be-adorable (blah) teddy bear attached to the chord. The earmuffs also have sewn into the sides, with golden threads, a decorative DD, sure to alert any jealous onlooker as to the origins of the wonderful multi-purpose earmuff-headphones! I was lucky enough to receive this incredible invention last Christmas, and sport them enthusiastically in these cold winterly days, as I jog along the streets of Jeju.

In Jeju, street joggers are not a common site. Joggers, and walkers stick to the sidewalks of a few designated 'running' and 'biking' roads, or jog around the tracks found in most school yards. I've reasoned that most of them drive to these roads, park their vehicles nearby and walk or run back and forth along the socially accepted jogging paths, as it's hard to spot Korean runners and walkers anywhere else but on these roads and tracks. And one need not search carefully to discern a Korean jogger or walker from ordinary pedestrians, as Koreans are prone to wearing the exact same attire when out exercising. They sport long, dark-colored, brand name trackydaks accessorized with clean, white, reflective, brand name runners. In the winter months, many Korean joggers and walkers wear large scarves and winter beanies, though some still sport the brand name cap.

Needless to say, I look different. Even if my hair weren't blonde, my large eyes weren't blue, and my legs weren't a bit longer than the average Korean woman's legs, I look different. I jog on un-designated jogging roads, paths, and sidewalks. I wear earmuffs so big that when walking through a small door frame, I have to turn my head sideways to enter! I don't wear trackydaks, ever. And brand name clothing, unless purchased at an op-shop, ranks pretty high on my list of things most wrong with people in the world today. And when you look different in Korea, people, all people stare.

So my love-hate relationship with my amateur running hobby is further compounded here in Jeju by those curious onlookers unaccustomed to seeing anything out of the ordinary. What I want to do is run like a maniac, screaming nonsense at the top of my lungs, chase them down the street, and then give them a big hug and sloppy kiss. But I continually fight these urges, occasionally making a 'what the flip are you staring at?' face. Sometimes I even pull my shirt over my head or cover my face with my hands, and then run home...faster. At the very least, jogging along the streets of Jeju has improved my pace as I angrily race away from the numerous confused stares!

Jeju Fortnightly

I write one pretty insignificant, pretty short article twice a week for Jeju Weekly, the English newspaper here on the island, that despite its misleading name, publishes just fortnightly. 'Newspaper' is possibly another misnomer, as the glossy, all-colored print, rectangular paper appears more like a magazine full of uncritical content that merely praises the positives aspects of life on Jeju. Please don't misread my cynicism, there is an abundance of brag-worthy content to report about on the island, as it is undoubtedly beautiful and full of exciting tourist-friendly activities. And I'm more than happy to venture off every other Saturday, to a new part of the island with a Korean translator to meet and greet quasi-famous Jeju locals like traditional pottery-makers, artists, organic farmers, singers, orchestra members and so forth. But a real 'newspaper' would investigate and run stories that showed the grits and guts of the island juxtaposed with its flowery tourist exterior. So magazine it is then, I write one pretty insignificant, pretty short article twice a week for the English magazine, misnamed Jeju Weekly.

A couple weeks ago, Jeju Weekly offered me something a little less insignificant: the chance to write a cover story. And I got greedy and accepted. I enjoy writing for the paper because it adds nearly no extra stress to my life and presents opportunities for me to learn new things. But with fame and glory comes responsibility and hardship, right? I had scheduling and rescheduling problems with this story, emailing problems, incompatible software issues, and semi-frequent guilt trips via email from my contact at the paper.

The Tuesday before the deadline, I decided to outsource all the Jeju locals that could possible help me organize an interview with a tangerine farmer before my Saturday morning deadline. Help came via Rae Won, an adorable, petite, mother of two, who used to attend my adult English class that I taught out in Seongsan (farm country) last year. When she replied to my desperate-text pleading for help, she said, "Thank-you, Arielle, for remembering me to ask me to help you! I have a friend organic tangerine farmer!" After reading her text message, all the week's irritation immediately dripped away. Whatever annoyances I may have felt early faded with the prospect of spending a morning with Rae Won and her organic-tangerine farming friend!

So in my cover-story debut, this fortnightly edition of Jeju Weekly, should run my pretty insignificant, pretty short cover story on Jeju's tangerines, thanks to a woman who thanked me for asking a favor of her!