I was teaching my G1A class, which is the first level after Kindergarten. The kids in this class are my favorites, perhaps because the class as a whole has such an incredible working dynamic. All the children basically like each other, all of them really like me and there are one or two who are easy for me to pick on, sort of jokingly, and who are good sports about it, and who the class as a whole enjoy seeing teased.
I am able to go from fun and playful as an instructor to strict and instructive in almost no time. This allows me incredible freedom with them. The kids take me quite seriously when they need to and are attentive and considerate. I have, at this point in my life, taught 30 different classes of students. It only takes one poorly behaved or ill mannered child to mess up a class dynamic. This class runs seamlessly.
There is a girl who is in love with her English name, and whenever anything is said in her general direction, she will raise one hand in triumph and say (making the two syllables completely distinct) "Lola!" It's hilarious.
The other great kid in the class is June. He is always smiling. He is terrible about the no Korean in Ari Teacher's class rule and always gets his name written on the board. Whenever he has a compliant he will shout out almost joyously, "Teach-er!" I always immediately reply, "Mr. June!" And then there is silence, while June comes to terms with what him, me and the entire class know; that June lacks the vocabulary to sufficiently express himself in English. He hesitates, I hesitate. The classes is silent, waiting. June will inevitably spout off some Korean and get his name placed on the board. But he is such a great sport about it.
The other day I was asking them what they ate for breakfast (we were doing a unit on the mornings, waking up, eating brushing your teeth, etc). Misha, one of the girls, says rice and gimchi, which is pickled cabbage, a very common dish over here. June leaps from his seat like wild fire and yelps, "Oh teach-er! Korean! Misha say Korean!"
He is terribly excited to at last have caught someone body else breaking the rule. The students and I explain that while, yes gimchi is Korean, it is okay because its a name. June looks put off for a second. Then, "Gimchi is okay?" Me, "Yes, Mr. June. Gimchi is okay." June looks inexplicably pleased. And then he said, "Gimchi." Everyone turns and looks at him. Perplexed. June says again, "Gimchi." I starts to understand and clap a hand to my forehead; the class is only a moment or so behind me. June positively breaks into song, "Gimchi! Gimchi! Gimchi! Gimchi! Gimchi!" It is all he says for the rest of the lesson.
The kids in my Special C class are also quite funny. These are the smartest kids in the Hagwon, the students who we prime to do well on English tests and who we work hard with so they can win all the contests in school, which it makes our Hagwon look good. One of the boys in the class, Daniel, who is very smart and wins all the speaking contests in the district, likes to adopt strange English catch phrases that he repeats over and over again. The catch phrase he recently retired was, "I am very generous!"
He would say this in victory in response to pretty much anything he felt was applicable. He is also obsessed with getting "stickers" (which are basically teacher signatures for good behavior, completed assignments or excellent English) and tended to ask for them every time he said he catch phrase. So I might ask the class a question like, "If I said I could afford something, what would that mean?" And Daniel would answer all in a rush, "You can buy it! I am very generous! Okay! Sticker?"
Daniel's most recent English catchphrase sounds like something my ex house mates Adam and Scott might say randomly, something I could see either of them adopting as a peculiar method of expressing support for one another. Daniel's newest catchphrase is "Go forward!" It is great. It is so subtly encouraging while also appropriately convoluted.
I have my higher level classes play a game called Hot Seat. Basically there are two teams, boys versus girls is the Korean preference. There are two chairs facing away from the board upon which one member of each team is seated. I write an English word on the board and the other members of the team use English (ideally they use descriptions or synonyms) to get their team mate to be the first to say the English word written on the board behind them. Korean children are fiercely competitive, so it's always a great game.
When I play it with Daniel's class, the intelligent girls far outrank the intelligent boys and the girls always win. The boys are amazingly sporting about this though. The boys typically end up in the minus points range because they cheat or do pantomime or other things they aren't supposed to. But they just laugh about it and don't give up or throw fits. Every time they loose a point, Daniel will shout out happily, "Okay good job! We have zero again! Go forward!"
During these moments, I love my job. I cannot imagine doing anything else in the world.
14 years ago
