re-donning the mantle

It's been an unusual experience, sliding back into Teacher Mode. I expected to re-adapt instantly to the hectic crunch and wracking nerves of the amateur teacher's life. Not so. I've had one heck of a time. Perhaps it's because I'm in a new city, and working for a new institution. Maybe it's just because I've been out of the game for almost three years. But whatever the rationalization...

...I found myself sitting at my desk on February 13, lessons planned and re-planned, teaching materials arrayed neatly on my desk, heart pounding, watching gimbap crumbs swirl languorously in my water bottle. I'd taught two classes the previous week, but only in a training capacity. Today was my first day in the ring as a genuine educator. I was gravitating somewhere between hard-won exhilaration and paralyzing fear and doubt. Could I really do this? Teach, I mean? Sure, I'd done it before, but this was a whole new ballgame: a large, well-known hagwon in a strange, massive metropolis, filled with businesslike people and rambunctious children. Except for the exuberant kids, it was nothing like my old gig down in Geoje. The Korean teachers there were all laid-back and friendly. I saw the director every day, and he'd fulfill any reasonable request at the drop of a hat. The Korean teachers in Bucheon had thus far been uncommunicative and even somewhat standoffish. And I hadn't even met the director of my new school, much less passed the time of day with him. (As of this writing, I still haven't.)

So it was with something akin to panic that I threw some pens, markers, and an eraser into a tray, grabbed the textbooks and lesson plan, and crept down the hallway to my first lesson. I walked through the door, set my stuff down on the podium, and faced the class. Eleven pairs of unfamiliar eyes met mine. I took a deep breath, picked up my eraser and marker, and said "Hi. My name is Andrew."

Everything got easier from there.

After two full weeks of teaching, however, I'm starting to think I've got a handle on it. I've caught myself slipping back into some bad teaching habits, even. (Don't worry, I've corrected them adroitly.) Even though the new semester will begin on March 4th and I'll have to contend with new courses, new textbooks, new students and new schedules, I believe I can handle it. These past two weeks have been eye-opening and instructive as much as nerve-wracking and frustrating.

There have been some tough spots, sure. Some of the classes are quiet and respectful, which is just dandy. But some of them are too quiet: I can't drum up their enthusiasm to save my soul. I wind up doing all the talking and the students just stare at me and mumble monosyllabic replies to my questions. And quite a few of the classes, unfortunately, are loud, noisy, playful and distracted. At such times the best a teacher can do is hand out "extra paper" (lines, basically) and rearrange the seating chart. A strong show of force and a consistent method have sealed the discipline breach to a certain extent, but nothing will stop an ungovernable pupil from having his day in court. (Their behavior, as bad as it can be, is nothing compared to what I used to have to deal with on Geoje Island, however. That at least has been an improvement.)

Some obstacles have come not from the student body, but from my own. I caught a cold on Friday of the first week—a customary experience for a newly-arrived foreigner. Against my better judgment, however, I let myself get talked into going out with the gang for drinks that night instead of staying in and tending to myself. We painted the town. Bars. Beers. Shots. Whiskey on the rocks. Darts. Billiards. Noraebang (karaoke room). The works. And I have been paying for it for eight days straight. The fever hit with full-force on Sunday evening, robbing me of sleep until five a.m. Monday morning, when it finally broke in deluge of sweat. Back pains from my rock-hard mattress compounded matters. I wound up getting as little as two hours of sleep. Add in the persistent jet lag (from which I am still suffering, even three weeks in) and...well, it wasn't a pretty picture. I basically taught for three straight days with a sore throat, crushing fatigue, aches and pains, and virulent self-loathing. Even after the symptoms disappeared, the damage to my throat (due both to the sickness and the off-key warbling that I did at the noraebang on Friday night) plagued me. I would slowly slash my vocal chords to ribbons every day, attempting to make myself heard in boisterous classrooms and shout troublemakers down. By the end of each workday my voice would be practically lost. I lost count of how many liters of water, ounces of citron tea, and cups of warm brine I consumed in the attempt to heal my poor neck. Then I'd go back to work and the process would begin anew. It was agony. Only this very weekend has broken the vicious cycle, and only today have I felt like I'm completely back together (though I'm still coughing).

Boozy indiscretion, rambunctious children and unfamiliar surroundings aside, I have made myself at home in Bucheon and at my new place of employment. Two weeks in, the Korean teachers are warming up to me nicely, as are the students. I've established a routine, have planned my lessons down to the minute, am up-to-date on my paperwork (except inputting homework on the school website, which the Korean secretaries must enable me to do beforehand), and my apartment is clean and livable. I've finished unpacking my clothes and am situating my toiletry and grocery items. My blinds are open and a fabulous vista of a dozen towering apartment blocks, splashed with scattered lights, is glimmering outside my window. I'm well-fed, hydrated, healthy, warm, and comfortable.

Oh, and there's a four-day weekend coming up.

What more could an expatriate English teacher ask for?