11 Things I Wish I Had Known Before Teaching in Korea

Bear with me folks. This is a long one, and there are no pretty pictures. Sorry. But I hope you find it useful/interesting. I’ve been teaching in Korea for 6 months now, so it seemed like a good time to reflect and share a few humble words of wisdom. Some of these points are things I thought I already knew, but it turned out that was only true on a superficial level. Other things on the list didn’t hit me until I was already in Korea. Here we go:

1. The language barrier is HUGE. It’s SO MUCH bigger and harder than I ever imagined. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t felt like a prisoner, an infant, a helpless dog, a moron, or some combination of these things at some point. The feeling never lasts all day, and I do enjoy occasional breakthroughs, but those usually go as quickly as they come. Living in a non-English speaking country is often exhausting and frustrating. And yeah, struggling through the language barrier is “part of the adventure.” But let me tell you, there are days when I’m tired of “adventures” to the corner store and all I want is to buy some frickin Frosted Flakes without engaging in another rousing game of charades. Before coming to Korea, I wish I had put as much energy as possible into learning the language ahead of time. Not only would it have made my first days and weeks in the country easier. It also would’ve left me at a higher level once my language-learning enthusiasm took a nose dive here. If I had known that the very obstacle I was initially so determined to overcome would become such a demotivator, I might’ve worked harder before leaving to arm myself better for the battle. 
2. Don’t bother caring about things beyond your control, particularly when it comes to teaching. There are days when I’ve worked my ass off to prepare a lesson, or I’ve come up with something really fun and exciting to do, and no one shows up or the class gets cancelled without warning. Do I go and demand an answer from my co-teacher or do I channel my inner Taylor Swift and shake it off? Other times I’m faced with the choice of waking a sleeping student in the middle of class and forcing him to participate, or just letting him snooze away so I don’t disrupt the lesson. Should I take it personally that he finds my material so boring or should I tell myself it’s not MY class that’s drawing out the snores in him (yes, sometimes they actually snore) it’s the SYSTEM as a whole? Harder still are the kids who are awake but blatantly don’t want to be there. Do I bend over backwards to make them like me and my class? Or do I focus on the other students who are sincerely paying attention and engaged? Before coming to Korea, I wish I had known that more often than not, I should be prepared to NOT care; that my happiness on the job would largely depend on my ability to shrug off the frustrations and let go of the disappointments; and furthermore, I would find myself having to “not care” way more than I expected. But, that being said, the result is that the things I DO choose to care about, I do so very much, and I put as much time, thought and energy into those things/students as possible; almost like I’m subconsciously trying to make up for all my other moments of apathy. If, before arriving in Korea, I had been ready to only care/focus on the things I could control, I probably would’ve found peace/satisfaction with the job a lot sooner. 
3. There was a reason EPIK kept me in the dark. I can remember feeling annoyed and vulnerable throughout the drawn-out application process leading up to orientation, and then still feeling that way for most of that first week. ‘Why was the program so slow to divulge any information about our placements? Why did every step have to take so long to complete?’ Well, 6 months later, I’ve discovered answers to both of those questions. First, EPIK wants to ensure that people don’t try to peace out early if they’re unhappy about their placement, their living situation, or anything else about their future in the program. So they keep everyone in the dark all the way until the end of orientation, at which point they finally turn the damn lights on. It’s also a good way for them to weed out the people who’re applying for the wrong reasons. Second, the application is like the “song that never ends” basically because the program is one big, giant cluster-you-know-what. Imagine several thousand applicants all trying to jump through the same hoops at once, and the wring leaders (aka EPIK staff) are a surprisingly small contingency of young Koreans doing their best to hire the right people to work in a foreign country–a difficult process to complete when it’s just one person being hired, let alone hundreds. So it takes time. A lot of time. In my head I picture the EPIK headquarters perpetually looking like a bomb just went off: official documents and resumes render the floor invisible, and leftover take-out bags and boxes litter food-stained tables because no one on staff ever has time for table manners when they eat. Before coming to Korea, I wish I had better appreciated just how difficult it is to obtain a job overseas and all the paperwork that comes with it, and that waiting and feeling out of the loop isn’t just part of the game, it’s part of the game for a reason.
4. There’s no real way to fully prepare for the extreme highs and lows that come with living and working abroad, but knowing so might help.  For me, there was an incredible euphoria to the initial weeks of settling into my new life: taking weekend trips, going out with new expat friends every Friday night, and just being enthralled with the exotic new culture. Then, at some point, piece by piece, things started to unravel. In my case, it was a combination of culture shock, homesickness and a disillusionment with teaching that sent me plummeting into what I now like to call The Dark Ages. Then one day a lesson went REALLY well, or I made a new friend, and I was flying high again…only to crash and burn once more around the holidays. You get the idea. Up and down, up and down. Before coming to Korea, to a certain degree I knew I would feel homesick and that I would face many mental and emotional challenges. And I knew it was going to be fun. But knowing and experiencing are two very different things. And that’s what I wish I had taken into account; that even with all of my other experiences of travel and being away from home, this was different, and it was going to be far more difficult than I ever could anticipate. However, all the difficult times made the great ones all the more awesome. I don’t think I could’ve prepared for this any better, but maybe knowing that it was impossible to really prepare would’ve helped…maybe.
5. The quickest way to make life enjoyable and easy is to have a combination of expat and Korean friends. Here in Korea I need both. For my own sanity and my survival. Expats understand where I’m coming from, literally. They work the same job as me so they understand my triumphs and struggles. And their schedules are similar to mine, so social activities and vacations are easy to coordinate. Oh yeah, and they SPEAK ENGLISH! But Koreans know the native language, the culture and social norms, and all the cool spots/things to do that expats don’t. When comparing cultural experiences/trips that I’ve had with my expat friends vs my Korean friends, the latter offers a greater amount of authenticity every time. However, in the end, there are benefits to both. So, before coming to Korea, I wish I had known how important it would be to break out of my foreigner bubble and strike a balance early on to get the most out of my experience.
6. The role of EPIK teachers is not to swoop in and “fix” the Korean education system.  Not long after starting at my school, I began to feel guilty that I was contributing to the institution that produces the world’s unhappiest students. Seriously, it’s a fact. As a result, I instantly felt a desire to change the soul-sucking norms of late night hagwon sessions and boring lecture-style lessons. But after talking with my fellow Korean teachers about our students and education in Korea, even they didn’t have any real answers or know how/if things would ever change. It might sound fatalistic, but that’s when I decided it wasn’t my job to find those answers or bring about those changes.  What I also decided, though, was that I could still  make a difference in these kids’ educational lives by exposing them to alternative teaching and learning methods, and make class as fun and painless as I could. I was never going to solve the whole problem, but at least I could do something about it within my own classroom. Before coming to Korea, I wish I had reminded myself that I wasn’t going there to fix the country’s imperfect education system, and that I wasn’t responsible for all (or any) of its flaws; that all I would be able to do is offer my experience and point of view, and show them a different way of thinking/working.
7. The classes run by EPIK teachers are more of a bonus and less of an actual class. This is not what I expected when I walked in on day one. I knew the class might be seen as “a little different,” since I don’t speak Korean and it’s run by two teachers instead of one. ‘But how much different could it really be?’ Actually, the answer is: a lot. At least in my case, students already have their regular English class twice a week with just my co-teacher. Then, once a week, I come in for a lesson. Unlike in the other two periods, in my class they don’t get graded (though I could probably ask) and there aren’t any other obvious incentives for them to participate or try to understand me. As a result, I’ve been confronted with major motivation issues from many students. The way I’ve skirted around that, though, and gained their interest/respect is by making lemonade out of the giant lemon that is this situation. Instead of trying so hard to be taken seriously as a “real teacher,” I play up the “bonus status” of my class. Before my first day on the job, I wish I would’ve known that the more I take advantage of this “bonus status,” the better things will go. When I break the mold from the usual teacher these kids see and do something outside of the box, it’s almost always a hit.
8. Signing the EPIK contract = relinquishing all control for the next year. When I signed the official contract, I effectively agreed to have no actual say in where I would live, who I would work with, where I would teach, how much I would teach or when my vacation would be. It was all out of my hands. I knew that going in though. And none of it bothered me…until it came time to book winter vacation plans and I was suddenly at the mercy of the Ministry of Education. Basically the Education Office blew a giant hole in my plans at the last minute and I had to be very flexible and roll with the punches, which they were entitled to dole out since it states in my contract that I can be summoned to teach where I’m needed if I haven’t fulfilled all my teaching hours for the week yet. Fortunately I hadn’t booked anything at that point so there was no financial loss. But it was still frustrating, and it resulted in me purchasing flights later and thus paying more. Before coming to Korea, I wish I had known that at some point I was guaranteed to get jerked around by the system. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when and how badly. S’just what happens when you sign a contract like this.
9. Speaking of money, banking here sucks. Maybe I just haven’t figured it out, but banking in Korea is a huge pain. I wish I would’ve opened a credit card account in the States before I left. Not only would it have been nice to have for settling-in purposes in the beginning, but also for other travel and online purchases. Korean bank cards and credit cards just don’t work well all the time. They especially don’t like to cooperate with online transactions for whatever dumb reason (maybe it’s just my particular bank, Nong-Hyup). And then when I have a problem, I have to go to a help website that’s entirely in Korean to sort it out, which I can’t do without assistance from my co-teacher. And unfortunately it’s happened at least three times now where I’ve gone to my co-teacher with a simple question about trying to use my bank cards for something, intending to only take up a minute of her time, and it’s turned into an hour or more of her being on the phone with a customer service agent, who sometimes asks us to visit the nearest branch to resolve the issue. End rant. So the moral is: Before leaving the US, I wish I had gotten a credit card and opened an account with CitiBank (they allow no-fee international money transfers and have English-speaking branches in Korea). I’ve recently learned that Korean Exchange Bank is also very foreigner friendly, so I’ll be looking more into that soon.
10. In the classroom, play to your strengths whenever and however you can. I do not come from a teaching background. I do not possess a strong technical knowledge of English. Therefore, trying to come off as a professional, highly qualified and knowledgeable English teacher is rather stressful and frustrating for me…but that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to be for the most part up until now. And it’s filled me with such anxiety and fear and despair at times that it’s tainted my experience. For these first six months, I’ve had small bursts of successful and enjoyable lessons, but I wasn’t looking closely enough at why I’d succeeded. And now I realize it’s because I was teaching in a way that I enjoyed, that made sense to me and made me comfortable. And once I started working and feeling that way, the kids responded to my enthusiasm and returned the favor. I am a project person. So whether it’s a video, an art project, a creative writing assignment or whatever, that’s where I feel at home and excited. As I said before I’m not a “real” teacher here, so why should I kill myself trying to be one? My co-teacher has literally told me several times not to stress, that my job is to just make English enjoyable and accessible to the kids. I guess up until now I’ve been afraid to take her words at full value and run with them. Not anymore though.
11. You never know unless you try. Before coming to Korea, I wasn’t totally sure if I liked teaching, if I could handle homesickness, or if Korea would be a good fit for me. At times these doubts really got to me, and they made me second guess myself. After all, a year is a big commitment to make to something that you’re not 100% sure of. But on the other hand, it’s only a year. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And really, for the most part, an experience like this tends to offer nothing but gains, even if we aren’t aware of therm at the time. So my final thought is that, before coming to Korea,I wish I would’ve let go of all my doubts, uncertainties and reservations and just trusted that everything was going to be fine, at the least, and frickin awesome, at best; that the only way to know would be to try, and that I would be so glad I made the choice I did.