The Eastern Horizon

After eight years of teaching children in Korea, I decided to grasp the nettle and make the big switch . . . to adults. The kindness of my new employer is greatly appreciated.

So there you have it, folks . . . when the school here in Yangsan asked me if I wanted to re-sign for another year, at first I said "Yes", figuring that they wouldn't ask me if they didn't think I was good enough.

But then – rather quickly, in fact – I reconsidered. And since the reasons I had for "reconsidering" were probably common to anyone in this position, I decided it was time to bring it all out into the open.

Let what follows serve as a guide for those considering a teaching job in Korea.

Before I came to Yangsan, I was actually fired (or, rather, asked to leave) after only three weeks of working for a functionally very similar (but factually larger) "English Center" in Gwangju, South Jeonla Province. When I went there for the interview, in my clean black two-piece on a Saturday before I left the job in Miryang, the new manageress actually hinted that she might want me to stay there for ten years or more. However, it very quickly became apparent that there was no discipline worthy of the name there, and the after school first and second grader classes were nightmarish; I couldn't control them at all.

Worse, even the manageress was afraid of the childrens' parents: this was a paying institution, dependent upon paid lessons for its income, and they were therefore afraid of threatening their revenue stream by offending the parents who, after all, could withdraw their children from tuition, and therefore cut funding. This seemed to mean that problems of this nature would sooner be "cured" by dismissing the foreigner than by confronting a crazy (and I mean crazy, emotionally uncontrolled and perhaps unstable) mother who applied no discipline to her offspring at home, and was incapable of understanding why it also needed to be applied in an educational context.

Those who would come here and do this job need to be aware of such pitfalls: parents here in Korea have become just as pathetic as their contemptible Western counterparts, not enforcing discipline at home, and resulting in boys, in particular, who cannot simply sit and listen, and take their proper part in an English lesson. On the contrary, they would ignore me routinely and talk loudly amongst themselves, walk and run around the class and even suddenly put on their school bags and walk out of my lesson without permission, in the middle of the class. But the foreigner teacher is somehow supposed to "magically" control children who cannot even speak the same language, and do not even comprehend routine classroom metalanguage commands. It is the foreigner who gets the stick for this, and I was asked to leave after only three weeks, by the very same person who had earlier suggested that I might be there for ten years!!!

So, I was back to Square One, and presumably a piece of ordure in the sight of the manageress, having just got the cable TV and Internet installed, essentially fired before I had even had much of an opportunity to get to know Gwangju, and already highly stressed. Why? Because most nights, I was up until midnight or later, putting together lesson plans, worksheets and other materials. The "textbooks" they used were in fact cobbled-together PDFs of scans from older texts like the "Let's Go" first edition, with no guidance as to their usage and no ancillary materials such as sound files available, even though the printed stuff was often useless without it! And I was unable to send money back to the UK because – like so many of these places – they are insanely "controlling" of the foreigners. Mind you, the people at the local Nonghyup Bank in Gwangju just ignored me when I walked in . . .

I have never been able to understand this pointless control-freakery, especially considering that I have everything at home to continue preparatory work for upcoming lessons – fast dual-core computer, Korean software, high-speed Internet, huge photo printer, the works – and two operating systems! In fact, the printer in particular was purchased after its cheaper predecessor gave up the ghost, shortly after I arrived in Miryang, and specifically for high-quality printing of classroom materials on paper and card. The home environment is also less distracting, as there is normally no-one and nothing to take one away from work – coffee in the mug, music from the Internet and abundant time to focus on the task. Why is this a problem? Do they think that I go out and get drunk every night???

We might for a moment return to a previous (and very considerate and helpful) work colleague's comment, made just as his American friend in Busan was considering leaving Korea and going home: "I have a buddy here, who after first coming to Korea in 1997 is now leaving. The problem for him is promotion, or lack of, and his school treat him the same as the next 22 year old off the plane with a drinking problem. The school never asks his advise [sic] on anything." This neatly summarises the position of many foreigners here teaching English: their function in the private classroom is often simply as a status symbol for the hagwon's owner – a sign of success – many students attend his school, so he can afford more expensive foreigners, so more people sign up.

In the public school classroom, it is probably fair to say that even now, after years of having foreigners in the schools, neither the responsible recruiting organisations nor the schools who use them to obtain foreigners yet have any real idea of how they are to be used in a practical classroom. The result is that there is a communication breakdown after the foreigner arrives, leading to cases like the one where the foreigner would simply spend all day sitting at the back of the classroom reading a newspaper. Online reading as well as conversations with other foreigners here show that even co-teachers given the responsibility for teaching English often do not have sufficient English ability themselves to communicate what they want or to plan who is doing what in the course of each lesson, despite the fact that they may have written instructions to do so.

The result, of course, is a mess. Foreigners may suddenly find themselves required to undertake tasks, unplanned, literally at a moment's notice. They never have any real idea how they fit into the wider scheme of things, assuming that there is one. It is a never-ending cycle of isolated frustration. Worse, foreigners are irrationally expected to somehow "magically" have an automatic understanding of what is required, and simply turn up at their new employer and be instantly and perfectly functional in the classroom. Er . . . no. They have at least a first (under-grad.) Degree, but may not have even a rudimentary TEFL/TESOL Certificate, but are expected to perform similarly to a Korean with a four-year Degree in Education. Some common sense needs to be applied here. Like more in-service training, not to mention meaningful "orientation".

On balance, I would say that if all legal obligations are met, then there is little practical difference between public and private sector schools in Korea, although you are more likely to be given a high salary in the private than in the public. Remember, however, that this money is given for services rendered: render less service, you get less money. Contrary to what some people seem to think, you do not get (and do not deserve) a high salary just for turning up each day! As an example, at Miryang, there was the opportunity to earn something like KRW400,000+ each month because of the after school classes – but they expected to have third, fourth, fifth and sixth graders together in the same classes!!! I tried to split them into more practical groups, but this then clashed with other hagwons, and the result was . . . no after school classes, and of course . . . no extra pay. But the arrangement made no sense in any case.

Later, I discovered that I was not alone in this, as there were sometimes get-togethers with other local foreigners and advisers, and they had the same complaints. It beggars belief that a country should be so willing to expend so much on a relatively small number of non-natives and then, apparently, not have any clue as to exactly what they could or should be doing – or, at least, not have some kind of pre-written plan to which they were expected to adhere.

As a person working for engineering companies in an earlier "incarnation", it was normal for me to be put through orientation sessions aimed at inculcating safe behaviour in the neophyte, as engineering environments tend to be highly dangerous; the most professional employers would have some kind of "employee manual" for each individual which would spell out all instructions clearly and without scope for deviation, perhaps before the need to consult a line manager for advice should arise. This kind of thing is, in my opinion, desperately needed to standardise both the private and the classroom behaviour of foreigner instructors in a place like Korea.

So a further example could be the so-called "orientation session" after arrival. New foreigners recruited to teach English at public schools are supposed to have a four- or five-day session, organised by the recruiting organisation, intended to prepare them for their upcoming tasks in elementary, middle or high schools, but in practice it is more of a cultural "welcoming session" and more often than not, they are treated to a particular foreigner's selection of favourite classroom games rather than what a professional person would consider "teaching techniques". Again, this period should be a standardised training session leading not to a "Certificate of Attendance" but a "Certificate of Achievement" – of understanding of basic teaching techniques, classroom metalanguage, some basic spoken and written Korean and cultural understanding. In my experience, neophytes are exposed only to the last of these four.

See, folks, here's the rub: Just like everywhere else, the teaching of a subject like English, which is very different from Korean or Japanese (two grammatically very similar languages) has been infected by the desire to lower students' affective filters by recourse to playing games. Presumably this is a consequence of students entering the classroom expecting the learning of English to be hard. But in this life, the difficult things are usually the ones with the biggest payoff; things that are easy to do or obtain are often cheap, or even free, and of course, everyone has them. In the Korean case, part of the perceptual problem here may be that it is seen as "separate" from other subjects, when in fact it needs to be integrated with other subjects – "science with English", for example. Without this kind of connection, students will have a limited idea of how useful the language is, as well as how easily it can be used in other contexts. One would certainly see this in European schools, for example in places like Liechtenstein, where instruction would be in French, German and English.

Languages are a "transferable skill", much more so than my own training in biochemistry could be translated into salary-earning usefulness in chemical analysis. But the kids can't see this. They can't see (because nobody is explaining to them) that when they have to do things like serious, library-based research, most of the periodicals they encounter will have English as the default language. If they want to get a qualification in an English-speaking country, they need to not only be able to hold a decent conversation, but also be good enough in both writing and writing style to write essays and other materials – and to defend the viewpoint that they take when they do this. One is tempted to suggest that account should be taken of the fact that even though all Korean students are required to study English, only a relatively small proportion of them will ever use it meaningfully in later life, and other options made available to them at the secondary level – as I was able to study French and German, but other languages such as Spanish and Italian were available, for example. This would permit better targeting of funding and resources.

While the contracts at public schools are essentially the same (with little variation), experiences at different places can vary considerably. It's fair to suggest that all three of the public elementary schools I worked at were quite different. And to be honest, with a few little "tweaks" here and there, I would certainly have considered staying at Yangsan more seriously.

However, some things could not be changed. Little useful furniture in the apartment. Late salary payments when there were long vacations (always after the vacations; hence, no money, therefore no vacations). Over-controlling, especially at times when I needed to send funds home to pay my bills in the UK. Lack of classroom discipline, especially for the after school classes.

I do seriously think that if they would like a foreigner to stay here longer, they should pay especial attention to the accommodation, not because the foreigner needs to be spoiled by a fantastic apartment (although it would be nice, of course!), but because a foreigner's living space is not just a place to eat and sleep – it is often also a place of work, when the workload requires them to use their private time to prepare for lessons, and therefore needs to be able to accommodate working functions, and should thus be large enough to be subdivided into at least living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and an office or other study room.

In my own experience, a committed foreigner teacher accumulates a huge amount of materials – physical and electronic – including books and computers, large room-hogging peripherals, cooking equipment and even furniture, all of which require space and all of which – taken together – are very expensive to transport between apartments when the time comes to change jobs, something which prompted me to write this article after such a long hiatus. There were things that simply had to be said.

When I transferred from Gwangju to Yangsan, there was a biiiig problem. First, I had to get out of my accommodation of the last two months – also lamentably lacking in useful furniture, although they spent a small fortune on new kitchen equipment – and second, I then had to wait for the new entry visa. This meant that my belongings had to go into storage at some expense (KRW1,000,000 plus KRW10,000 per day of storage) and I had to live in motels, before travelling across the water to Fukuoka in Japan for my new entry visa, and then get it all shifted to the new accommodation in Yangsan. All very expensive. I lost about KRW4,000,000+ in costs just doing this. After my arrival, the supervisor would then repeatedly not allow me to get out to the bank (just like at Gwangju), but eventually this problem was solved (by the bank, not by the school). What was not solved was the fact that they would not pay on time at long vacations – this happened twice, and was in fact breaking their own contract. Always check your contract!

In fact, it has taken me a full year and more to recover financially simply from the cost of moving. There have been reasons for this, and they have often struck me as ridiculous; there are things which should be checked when a new foreign member of staff arrives – they should not simply be "assumed" to have everything arranged without fault or problem. The new employer should listen carefully and advise appropriately and with some sensitivity and some leeway, for example the need to go to the bank periodically, otherwise they will end up in a tense situation where the new foreigner very quickly wants to leave, as I certainly did. Curiously, this problem never arose at Miryang. How is it somehow a problem when a foreign employee needs to go to the bank maybe once a month?

With all of these factors (I hesitate to describe them as "problems", this is "organisational" more than anything else) in mind, when I was asked by the supervisor if I wanted to stay at Yangsan, eventually I declined; there were simply too many negative points. In addition to all of the above, we were actually on the "wrong" side of the Yangsan hills – something I did not discover until after I arrived, because (predictably) no-one thought to let me know, and this means that entertainment is hard to come by here, and almost all travel is by bus, because the Busan subway terminal is on the other side of the hills.

It usually takes all year to learn where things are when you move into a new area, largely because you are busy for so much of the time, but also because of the concomitant lethargy resulting from always having to rush around, but even so, when the end arrives and it is time to leave, this knowledge does not encourage you to stay. So yet again, I initiated the job application process, and was quickly offered a job which may prove to be just what I was looking for. But it took me eight years of searching to find it!

So I have to finish this cautionary tale on a similarly cautionary note: South Korea really is a great place to live and work when things are okay, but you have to be alert and aware that there will be pitfalls along the way, and that these are largely due to poor communication and lack of planning. When you are offered a new contract, study it carefully and if possible, ask questions of your prospective new supervisor rather than the recruiters, who only want you to sign and get the application process finished; get all the facts from the horse's mouth. Only allow yourself to accumulate substantial possessions if you intend to stay for more than one year.

A final point might be that if you do intend to stay, have a plan ready for your transition between employers – have the necessary documents all ready for them at the right time, and keep as much as you can in the bank to defray the costs of transfer. Be organised and ready in everything that you do, both domestically and for your new employer. That way, when the inevitable strikes, you are at least ready.