Classroom Management

The following piece was written for an essay contest held by EPIK, my employer here in Korea. I decided to write about classroom management, the hardest part for me of teaching in a high school.

The new English teacher in Korea faces all kinds of issues in the classroom, from indifferent and tired students to indifferent and tired co-teachers. As someone who had never taught before, my first year was spent just learning how to plan effective lessons and find that elusive balance between education and entertainment. Hey, I like to have fun as much as my students. But one element had continued to elude me: classroom management. But, thanks to two new policies, I have been able to more fully manage my classes and teach more effectively.

I teach middle and high school boys in rural Gyeongsangbuk-do. My school is academically focused and for the most part I don't have many problems with the students. They are a lot more driven to succeed than I ever was at their age and they consistently impress me with their dedication and discipline—in other people's classes, at least. In many of my classes they were undisciplined and wild, seeing it as a time to cut loose, to let off some steam in the middle of a pressure cooker day that starts early in the morning and ends after midnight.

I sympathize with them, I really do. I could not imagine having to keep up the kind of academic pace they do. But I also did not fly half way around the world to be their punching bag. Don't get me wrong. I'm not the kind of teacher that requires absolute silence. I like a little chaos in the classroom; it keeps things interesting. But there's a level of respect that I expect and for the most part, it wasn't being met.

I should stress that this was only an issue in high school. My middle school classes are largely free of these kinds of issues, for a number of reasons. Co-teacher involvement plays a large part, I believe, and my middle school co-teacher is pretty strict. But it's also the students themselves. I work with these kids in after-school classes and they're respectful and pay attention, for the most part. But they're also not under the same kind of intense pressure that the high school students are, so there's less of a need to go wild.

After a few particularly bad high school classes, in which students were actually standing up and hitting each other while I was lecturing, I decided that I needed to make some changes. I first identified what I thought the problems were so that I could find solutions. The common factors among the problem classes were uninvolved co-teachers and a large number of class clowns. It was a bad ratio. Other classes might have a lot of clowns but an involved co-teacher was there to temper their behavior. In another class, the co-teacher might be out to lunch but the class was generally low maintenance. Another problem, I have to admit, was myself. I had been waiting for the co-teacher to discipline the students, or the students to work it out themselves, but this Zen approach only enabled their behavior. I at last came to the realization that there must always be a boss in the classroom. If it's not the teacher, it will be the students.

My first solution to becoming the boss was to implement a three strikes policy. Any time the class is goofing off and not listening to me, if students are standing or walking around, if students forget that this is indeed class time, I write an X on the board. I don't yell, I don't make a big fuss about it, I just write it. They know what it means and will do my policing for me: they will tell whoever is talking to be quiet. Should the class end up with three X's on the board, the entire class is punished. So far I've only had to punish one class and that involved everyone doing push-ups in the hall. Part of the punishment is that it's in a public space. They are embarrassed, and students in other classes know I'm serious about discipline.

The three strikes rule addresses the symptom, that being unfocused students, but not the sickness, as it were. Why are the students not motivated to pay attention in my classes? Because there's no specific academic reason to do so. They're not tested on the material I teach and it only marginally relates to their eventual college entrance exams. One reason the middle school classes pay attention is because I teach from the textbook, and the material covered is on their tests. But for high school I create my own lessons unrelated to the material in the textbooks. Unless they have an interest in English there's no reason for them to participate or even pay attention.

The obvious solution would be to make my class count academically, and this is just what I did. I approached my co-teachers and explained the situation as I saw it, and asked if they would mind if I contributed questions to the midterm and final exams. I had actually assumed that they would not be interested, that they would have asked me to do it already if they were. But to my surprise they loved the idea and even praised me for taking the initiative.

The change in my classrooms is like night and day. Between the three strikes rule and the test questions, the students are much more behaved. They're focused and contribute more to the class, even the class clowns. There's also a new and palpable level of respect towards me. I have become a real teacher in their eyes, not just the foreigner with the fun-time class. I feel more like a real teacher now as well, as what I say really counts in their lives. My teaching has become more academically oriented and I find myself explaining grammatical concepts more.

Of course, they're still teenage boys and are prone to getting out of control. After a few weeks of paying attention, they forget. But the occasional X on the board serves to remind them that my policy is still in place, and that I'm serious.

As my students have responded to my needs, so must I respond to theirs. I contributed questions to the recent midterm and they were universally regarded as "too difficult." Even the top students had trouble with them (and were none too pleased with me for causing their scores to be lower than usual). This is a learning experience for me as much as for them. I have told them that because we don't use a book in my class, they must take notes, and study them. But I have also made a concession to them: I will devote the last class before the test to review so they have an idea of what to study.

Also, my head co-teacher has informed me than my questions need to be in a format that is more like the other questions on the test, which are reading-based. I had a hard time agreeing to this. Why should form dictate content on a test? I don't teach a reading class so why should my questions be reading based? But we have come to an agreement. I will create dialogues for the test based on the lessons. The questions will be long and thus conform to what the principal expects. I still think it's silly but I am willing to conform to what my school requires.

I have come a long way since I started at my school more than a year ago. I have gone from green and inexperienced to, well, slightly less inexperienced. But through trial and error, and with the help of my co-teachers, I have arrived at a place where I can feel good about what I'm doing here. Thanks to these two solutions—the three strikes policy and making my classes count academically—my classes run more smoothly and I'm able to more effectively do what I was brought over here to do: namely, teach.

A Year In Korea

This week marks one year in Korea. I feel like this sort of momentous occasion demands a blog post (which I haven't really been updating lately) but I'm having a hard time coming up with something to write about. Yes, I've been in Korea for a year but what does that mean, other than a marking of the passage of time? What have I learned, if anything?

The biggest change for me lately hasn't been personal but technological. In the space of about two weeks I got not only an iPhone but an iPad. I'm actually writing this on my iPad right now. Although I have a wireless keyboard for this purpose I though I'd try writing on the screen to see how it goes. It's surprisingly not that bad. My two-finger typing style is well-suited to this hybrid texting style of writing. So far the hardest part is remembering where all the punctuation is, as most of it is hidden in a sub-keyboard under the qwerty keyboard.

But what does this have to do with Korea? Not much, other than the fact that it's my job in Korea that has allowed me these technological luxuries. I suppose this is the biggest achievement of the year: that I finally have the kind of extra income that allows me these fun toys. Of course, I still have debt but thanks to a nice year-end bonus coming my way I will soon be putting a big hole in that.

With one year ending, it's also time to think about the year that is beginning. This will likely be my last year in Korea. Japan and graduate school beckon. I want to make the most of this year. If I don't start planning trips now I know that soon the cool fall will give way to a freezing winter and I will sit in my apartment for 6 months. Likewise for spring next year. I will be pouring over my travel books in the next few months.

I would also like to improve my proficiency in Korean but at the same time I'm going to need to start refreshing my Japanese. Is there room in my life for both? We shall see.

So, one year in Korea and not much to report, other than new toys. Looks like I'm badly in need of a mystical and wonderful experience. It's waiting out there for me. OK, here I come.

One More Year—And Then After That?

I did it. I signed up for another year at Hamchang School. That means I'll be here until at least August 2012. I'll get a monthly raise as well as a bonus for re-signing.

What'll I do after that though? I'm not sure. There are lots of things I want to do in the future.

Eventually I want to be teaching at a Japanese university. That means a masters at least, and a doctorate at best. I've been looking at a Japanese studies program at Sophia in Tokyo. I'm particularly interested in Japanese yokai (goblins) and ghosts and such and am hoping to write my thesis on that. Also, the program offers Japanese-language courses for no additional charge, as you're expected to do your thesis research in Japanese. Thankfully you don't have to write it in Japanese.

I also want to achieve some kind of fluency in Korean. Maybe I'll get to a level that I'm happy with by August 2012, or maybe self-study won't ever cut it. I've been looking at the language program at Yonsei University in Seoul. I could study there full-time for 6 months before going over to Japan if I decide it's what I want. It seems strange to study Korean and then leave, but it will help me achieve a long-standing goal of wanting to learn Korean.

The other thing I want to do is travel, particularly around South East Asia. I don't know if I would want to do it for 6 months but for a few months at least.

Or who knows, maybe I'll end up teaching in Korea longer than another year. Whatever path I choose, it will be an exciting and rewarding adventure.

The Wedding

The call came at 9:30, Sunday morning.

"Adam, are you bored?" It was my co-teacher, Mr. Lee. "Come to the wedding today!"

I hadn't been awake long enough to determine if I was bored or not but I certainly wasn't going to pass on the opportunity to go to a Korean wedding. Weddings, along with funerals and birthday parties, are the ceremonies that mark important moments in our lives. Every culture has a unique way of going about them. I had yet to experience a Korean wedding, so I got my suit out of the back of the closet, shaved and prepared for what I hoped would be a memorable event.

The wedding was being held in what appeared to be a city building put up in the 1950s. Every floor was packed with men in suits, simultaneously shaking hands and bowing. Older women in hanbok (traditional Korean dress) floated back and forth, while young people in jeans and tracksuits obediently nipped at the heels of their elders.

We followed the flow of people up to the third floor, passing what appeared to be a cafeteria. I had been promised lunch and wondered if this staid place, with its dim lighting and hunched over diners, was going to be it. But no time to ponder, for we were climbing again.

I spotted familiar faces milling around in the foyer and, having already lost my co-teacher, made a beeline for them. All of us teachers and school administrative staff had gathered to witness (or so I thought) the wedding of the daughter of Mr. Kim, the Japanese teacher, who often gave me a ride to school in the morning. After saying hello to everyone, I went over and shook Mr. Kim's hand, and congratulated him in Korean and Japanese, just to be safe.

There was a wedding already in progress on the other side of a glass partition, and I couldn't tell if this was Mr. Kim's party or not. Intriguingly, two majorettes in full uniform and tall hats ran past me and into the hall, taking their places on the red carpet. A guest was standing on the trail of the bride's wedding dress. No one seemed to be moving. I watched some of the other teachers take a few tentative steps into the wedding hall, look around, and then come back out. Apparently this was not Mr. Kim's affair. They were double-booked.

I popped into the bathroom to relieve myself before our ceremony started and when I had come back out, everyone was gone. I panicked momentarily but then caught sight of Mr. Lee, who lead me not into the wedding room but back down the stairs and outside.

"Is that it?" I asked him. "No wedding ceremony?"

"Now we eat," he said by way of explanation.

And so we all got into our cars, having been at the wedding building for a grand total of 10 minutes, and drove to the outskirts of town where we ate beef and drank. The wedding party never even showed.

The Schedule

This semester I am decidedly more busy than last semester. It has nothing to do with being used to teaching yet or not (I am). What's making things more busy is I have agreed to teach evening classes. From Monday to Thursday, I teach either a middle school or a high school conversation class at 7:10pm. This means I am at school for pretty much 12 hours a day, four of the five work days a week. Hence, busy.

I am getting paid overtime for these classes, which I appreciate. The other thing I appreciate is how being at school for longer hours makes me feel like I'm more of a real member of staff and not just the foreigner that arrives after everyone later and leaves before everyone else. Now I'm just like them, overworked and tired all the time.

Being at school late also gives me more chances to talk to the students, both in my evening classes and outside. The students are here all the time. Many live in the dorms and so study in class until all hours of the night. The more I'm here, the more comfortable we are around each other, and the more we talk. It's fun getting to know them; they're hilarious.

What I don't like about this schedule, though, which should come as no surprise, is how tired I am all the time. Because of bus schedules I often don't get home until 9pm. Sometimes I walk home for the exercise, as I don't have time for the gym during the week now, and end up home at the same time, but it's hard to walk for 45 minutes after being at work for 12 hours.

After a month of this schedule I'm finally getting used to it, mentally if not yet physically. I'm very overdue for a trip to the gym this weekend. My creative side has been atrophying as well. Hopefully I can do some writing or maybe even work on some music this weekend—anything other than lesson plan. I am very much looking forward to midterms next week. Finally, a break from lesson planning.

Korean Coffee Conundrum

I like coffee. I suppose I could also say that I need coffee. But let's not get into whether I am or am not addicted to coffee (am) but rather get into the meat of this thing: the coffee in Korea sucks. It's not like there's a lack of it either. There's actually a surprising surfeit of coffee. No matter where you go, no matter how small the hamlet, there will be coffee at every turn. And all of it will be swill.

Surely I'm exaggerating, you say. I wish to God that I were. The situation is incredibly dire. No, really. I don't often use words like "dire" but it describes the coffee situation in Korea perfectly, I believe.

Allow me to explain.

Although you might think of Korea as being primarily a tea-drinking country, being part of Asia and all that, the country has taken to coffee in a big way. There are coffee shops and cafes everywhere. Even my small town of Jeomchon has at least five places that I can think of that serve coffee. Go to a big city like Seoul and you can't stumble 10 feet without passing another coffee joint. So what's my beef, with so much coffee around? The coffee is invariably going to be bad.

Let's start with the big cities. Seoul has seemingly billions of variations on Starbucks, all with circular logos and frothy lattes and all that other unnecessary coffee claptrap. I don't drink that stuff. I like drip coffee, and I like it black. That means that I actually taste the coffee, not the syrup and the whipped cream and the fireworks and whatever else they're going to dump in there. I want a cup of coffee, not another meal. And when Starbucks is considered the top of the line, it goes downhill quickly.

This is assuming I can find drip coffee at all. Most places don't serve drip; they only serve espresso. This means I usually have to resort to drinking an Americano if I want something resembling a cup of coffee. Even coffee places that profess to serve drip, and have the hardware to do so, often don't even brew it. I can recall asking for a cup of drip in Seoul at 8 in the morning and being told they were "sold out." Right. You never even bothered to brew it. In my town there are exactly zero places that will brew a cup of coffee. Aside from my kitchen, of course.

But far and away, the majority of coffee consumed in Korea is of the instant variety. Pretty much any business has a small machine that, with the press of a button, will fill a Dixie cup with coffee, milk and sugar. Always with milk and sugar. Anytime you have the occasion to wait for some service—at the bank, while getting a prescription filled, at the mechanic—a cup of this "coffee" will invariably be pressed into your hand.

My school used to have one of these machines but it has recently been replaced with packets of instant coffee that also contains milk and sugar. My fellow teachers have given up offering it to me, as they do to everyone else, because I am lactose intolerant and thus can't drink it. This is always embarrassing at a business because it appears I am refusing their hospitality when I don't drink the instant coffee. For that is really what this is about, hospitality. It's a small symbol of the bond that unites the people in a community. I would love to partake of this bond. I would happily do my part and drink this sour, so-called coffee if it weren't for the built-in milk. I tried it a few times. The results were catastrophic.

I hope and pray that single press coffee will make it to Korea in a big and affordable way ($10 for a cup at a Seoul hotel doesn't count). In the meantime I will drink Americanos and politely refuse the instant coffee, bonds be damned.

Japan

From the NY Times.

It's been a rough week. But not nearly as rough a week as it has been for the millions of Japanese affected by the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster still unfolding in Japan's north east. For me, it's been tough watching the footage of all the devastation, reading tweets and Facebook updates and looking at pictures online. It's a mixture of sadness, helplessness and, I have to say, a little bit of relief, because I very well could have been right there where the tsunami hit.

I applied to JET last year, as readers of this blog will know. My top choice was Sendai, what turned out to be one of the hardest hit cities. I could have been there when the earthquake and tsunami hit. I could have lost my apartment and all my possessions, like one JET teacher apparently did. But, had things gone differently, I would also be there right now, possibly helping in the relief effort. It's hard to look at pictures from so far away and not be able to help out. I donated to the Japan Society Relief Fund (and I encourage you to do the same; the box to the right of this story will take you to their site) but it still doesn't feel like enough.

I had pretty much decided I'd be staying in Korea for another year before this disaster struck. But I for sure won't be going to Japan for any length of time for awhile. Japanese nationals are being sent to foreign branches of companies to work. Friends of mine who were scheduled to go to Japan to teach English or go to school have been told to stay home. Of course, not all of Japan has been affected by this disaster but I imagine that ESL positions will suffer nation-wide. Priorities rightly will be shifted for probably years.

For now, I will continue to enjoy living in and exploring Korea, and I will continue to hope that the Japanese people are able to overcome this tragedy quickly.