* * *
If you teach conditional sentences than be prepared for a few laughs. I taught my high school class about conditionals and had them practice by writing warning signs for their favorite movie characters. A few of my favorite responses:
"To Sauron: If you see Frodo, than you should kill him immediately."
"To Frodo: If you listen to Gollum, than you will die."
"To Neo: If you fight with Smith, thean you will win because you are the main actor."
"To Ariel: If you want to be human, than don't tell your father."
I lavish praise on students who lengthen their sentences using words like 'because.' It is a milestone when a student can explain 'why' or 'how,' and I make sure to encourage such behavior. As a general rule, the high school students tend to be the best English speakers in the school.
The high schoolers are much more open to creative activities. I try out all of my cutting-edge ideas on them first. Sometimes the ideas, such as writing warnings for movie characters, are a smash hit and I modify them for the younger, less skillful children in my other classes. Still, these are Korean children, and their concept of what constitutes teaching and learning is much different from mine. Sometimes my ideas are too far removed from what they're used to, and they balk. Much like a musical opus composed from the heart but written in conflict with the current paradigm, my radical ideas sometimes fall on deaf ears.
For example, a few weeks ago I started a project entitled, "Korean Wanted Posters." I would take the kids to a PC room where they would research famous Koreans and then put together a presentation for the class complete with visual elements. The entire project, from research to presentation, would be in English. By reading, comprehending and then communicating their new knowledge, I hoped the 'Wanted Posters' would be a powerful linguistic exercise.
What's more, they could be as creative as they wanted in their visual material. I made a Korean merchant very happy last weekend when I bought nearly twenty dollars worth of art supplies for this project. I filled a bag with colored paper, pastel pencils and stickers and walked triumphantly back to ESS. I was sure they'd be psyched.
When I finished explaining the project to the class I was met with something between apathy and confusion.
"We're going to a PC bong?" One girl asked as if I were crazy. As we walked through Nampo-dong, I got the feeling that they didn't understand where I was coming from. When they discovered that I had spent my own money on the project, their confusion only grew deeper. "Teacher, why?" The same girl asked me.
Oddly, when I flew the 'Wanted Posters' past my 12-year-old Special Class, they jumped at the idea.
* * *
ESS has begun the theatrical production of the Christian creation myth. The tryouts are through, the cast chosen, and a director brought in to turn words on paper into people on stage. As I said earlier, Mr. Kim chose Gavin and I to play God. We both have four acts each, with about twenty lines to memorize. Since God is the central figure in the creation myth, I consider this a slight against the children. I can name at least three students who deserve to play God for than I, all women (who speak the best English). Or maybe I just don't want to be center stage...
The script is at a fourth-grade reading level. Upon looking it over, I discovered that the play comes to it's conclusion just in time to avoid loosing paradise. I guess 'Original Sin' is just too racy for Mr. Kim. What a pity. I was looking forward to smiting a few Best Jr. students. Here is 'Land' getting ready for his part. He's one of only two boys whom I've seen in the play.
The rehearsals happen every day after school and last a couple of hours. I spend some of the time helping the students with their lines. The hardest word in the script is 'reflection,' when is spoken by the Sky, a skinny girl in my 1S class. The Korean word for 'reflection' is 'Bansa,' and so every time I see The Sky walking down the hall, I say "bansa," and she answers back "reflection." If she gets it wrong I stop her in the hall and make her repeat 'reflection' until it's correct.
What I like most about the play is the chance to help the students with expression. Every week I listen to recordings of the Best Jr. students reading from their book. The number one problem with their reading skills is, of course, pronunciation. The second biggest problems are punctuation and expression.
No one teaches the students punctuation, so the average reader motors through paragraphs like a runaway locomotive through a trainyard. With the glorious exception of a precious few students, most students read sentences like "Wow! I can't believe you are our student representative!" without regard for the quotation or exclamation marks. It makes for good comedy, and I can't suppress a chuckle while listening to the tapes.
The theater is no place for such unintentional deadpan. These kids need to know two things: First, what they're saying, and second, what it means. Because it's theater, the kids are also fighting their shyness in front of their peers. They need to know it's OK to be expressive. Being expressive is what Tiggers do best. Tiggers like me.
When the director calls me on stage to 'let their be light,' I turn into a expression machine, conveying the meaning of my lines with not just the tone and volume of my voice, but how I hold my face and body, too. Most of the students giggle nervously when I slowly let the line rumble forth from deep within my stomach as I broadly sweep the air with my hands and raise my eyebrows high as if the universe were springing forth from my chalk-stained fingers.
I don't have any good photos of myself as yet, but rest assured, they're on the way. Gavin gets a kick out of my onstage antics, and he's a masterful photographer. Oh yes, the photos will come.
My favorite part of the play actually isn't on stage: The Korean drumline. As the first-year students are the actors, the third-year students are the orchestra, and this orchestra is nearly all percussion. I enjoy listening to them practice. Their teacher is a warm, patient man who has dedicated his life to studying, practicing and teaching traditional Korean musician.
The children are divided into three sections: Bells and two types of snare-style drums. The teacher keeps time with a brass bell balanced on his hand. After guiding each instrumental section through their part in the whole piece, he brings them together. The cacaophony that fills the small, accoustically poor room is like the sound of creation itself. First there is only chaos as the students strike their instruments shyly, their minds on each other. However, the steady ring of the teacher's bell focuses their minds on the music and a melody slowly coalesces from nothingness like the land springing from the water. Even in its organized form, the symphony of drums is every bit of it's 6000 year heritage, an ancient and earthy body-shaking sound that crowds out all thought and sets my heart ablaze with emotion. A few photos:
* * *
I came across Gyoo-tae and his friend Jae-hyung working on a quiz by the teacher's office Thursday. Both boys are in my 4B class, and so I asked them why they were working a test in the middle of the hall. They shrugged their shoulders. Ask Mrs. Choi, they said. She's the one who put us here. Oh, and do you have an eraser, Mr. Jones?
An eraser? Sure I have an eraser, I said, reaching into my pocket. Just then Soo-hee came up the stairs. She asked me what I was doing and I told her. No, she said, they can't have an eraser.
Perplexed, I followed her into the office and inquired about this bizarre rule. She didn't know. It was Mr. Kim's rule. A child should think through his answer before writing it down, she said. I found this to be a little harsh and said as much. Soo-hee sighed and told me she agreed, but that was what Mr. Kims, so she wasn't about to argue it any further.
On the way out to my next class I clandestinly gave Jae-hyung my eraser.
Well, it's 12AM and I need to sleep. Like I said, there is a lot more on my mind, but to sit here and write it would mean I'd be a zombie in class tomorrow, and nobody likes being taught English by the living dead. So good-night! --Notes
PS--If you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes, please clue me in with an email or comment.
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