Friday was perhaps the most worthless day of school I have experienced thus far, and perhaps the most obnoxious as well. I was told it was school sports day for Hongsan and three other neighboring schools (Oksan and two others whose names I forget), but it bore little resemblance to any sports day I’ve ever experienced, mostly in that there was very little actual activity. It was so strange. I was expecting a lot of activity and races and cheering and interaction with kids, but instead, I sat on the sidelines and bit my fingernails to shreds in boredom and frustration. So here was the schedule for the day:
8:30-9:30am—Everyone’s scurrying around, setting things up. I’m chillin’ and wondering when I’m going to have a part in the day.
9:30-10:00am—Speeches by principals, our head teacher, and some sort of awards ceremony. I never did figure out what the awards were for…I mean, the day hadn’t even started yet!
10:00-10:45am—Warmups begin when our MC for the day, a tool of a man dressed in a button-up with the collar popped and ridiculous sunglasses, comes out and proceeds to pollute our ears for the next five hours. He led the kids through a warmup of sorts, but they really only did a couple stretches before transitioning to a few ineffective partner stretches and the reigning theme of the day—synchronized butt-wiggling and finger pointing (supposedly a dance, I guess, but I’m obviously not convinced of its merits as far as both coolness and physical activity are concerned). Warmups conclude with two of the stupidest activities perhaps ever conceived. First, the kids form two lines of about 4-5 people across extending across the field. Then they bring out this heavily padded wire, about the girth of a person in the middle. The two lines then race, with a teacher holding each end of the wire and moving it back to the end of the line as kids jump over it. So in 15 minutes, each kid jumps twice. Great exercise technique. Then, they bring out two giant balls. This time, the lines of kids must pass the ball backwards to the back of the line, around a cone, and back to the front, again in a race. So now they move their arms a bit—that is, if the ball doesn’t shoot off wildly across the field, as it often did. At this point, we’ve been there for three hours and almost no physical activity has taken place.
10:45-11:45am—the “races” finally begin. I feel tremendously deceived when they really are not even races at all. First of all, only one grade goes on at a time. Second, they are just stupid. We spend about twenty minutes on each grade. The kindergarteners form two teams, make pairs and run down to a cone holding a friend’s hand and run back, relay-style. I can’t remember what the first graders did, but I’m sure it’s equally stupid. The second graders also form two teams, partner up with a parent, and must direct one of the giant balls down to the cone and back. I actually had to be a surrogate mom for this event, which was utterly humiliating because the obnoxious mc insisted on announcing me and making everyone clap, not once but TWICE. Also, I had to be with this kid from another school who I’d never seen before and it made me nervous. I don’t know why they didn’t put me with my host brother, who also needed a partner…perhaps it’s part of their ploy to alienate me. If so, it’s working.
It was so strange that they had so many events in which the announcer called on the kids to partner with a parent. I mean, it’s nice in a way, but many of them had parents who didn’t come, I think (my host siblings included), and I know for a fact that a good portion of my students are orphans. They may have grandparents, but still…it doesn’t seem particularly sensitive. Perhaps the announcer didn’t realize this, but anyway, it struck me as strangely thoughtless.
11:45-1:00—lunch. We were served a feast in the cafeteria and I ate far too much of everything, especially ddok. I’ve been getting a lot of sugar headaches lately due to my eating habits and I really need to cut back. But I have such trouble realizing moderation—I’m far more comfortable with extremes. So I eat a lot of sugar, or none at all. No middle ground. No grey. It’s a problem.
1:00-1:30—Post-lunch performances include Hongsan samulnori and another school’s dance. They were vaguely interesting, but I felt our samulnori performance was somewhat lackluster compared to previous times. Perhaps this is due to the fact that they have just started up again after losing so many players to middle school. Perhaps it was also the unforgiving surroundings, which seemed to muffle sound. The other performance might have been cute if you’d been a parent of one of the kids, but it was boring for any other spectator. I did find myself wishing I taught at a school at which the entire student body could be in one dance. Lucky teachers!
1:30-eternity—the “races” resume. It’s more of the same old crap—one grade goes on for twenty minutes and everyone runs a maximum of 100 feet while everyone else just waits on the sidelines. I’m bored to tears.
Seeing the school in operation today helped me to synthesize some thoughts and impressions I have of the Korean psyche and school procedures in general. For one thing, they are horribly inefficient. There’s such tight centralized control that it leaves little room for independent ventures. For example, they could have staged several races at once, thus maximizing the children’s exposure to actual physical activity, but instead, they chose to have one event at a time. I guess it gives everyone a chance to be in the spotlight, but really…what is the day supposed to be about, anyway? More than once, it felt like a day in which the focus was adult glorification (as in, why did we need 30 minutes of principals talking? And what was with the tool with the microphone, so apparently in love with his voice and dance moves?). Most of it was spent shepherding the kids from one area of the field to another and trying to keep them relatively quiet and orderly. The day seemed a complete waste to me and I hate that I was forced to even witness it. I would be even angrier if I’d had to be a part of it. Yet I feel the teachers were happy with how it turned out and can’t even conceive of another way of doing it.
That said, there were some interesting parts of the day. I’ve paraphrased some of the key characters in their interactions with me. My life is a parody. Really.
--“Homestay? Yes? No?” This is my vice-principal’s earnest attempt at communication with me. What is this supposed to mean? Is the homestay working out? Do I want a homestay next year? Do I want the same homestay next year? As always, just about everything is lost in communication.
--“Three half.” (combined with three fingers held up). This is my vice-principal’s attempt to keep me hostage, I think. I was walking inside to go to the bathroom sometime after lunch when he scurried after me, repeating this over and over. I can only guess that my co-teacher had told him I needed to leave at 3:30 and he was making sure I wasn’t sneaking out early. I actually did entertain the idea briefly, but that didn’t stop me from being offended he thought I would actually carry through with it. Seriously…when have I ever given you cause to doubt me?
--“Teacher STRONG!” So say my shrimpy sixth grade boys after watching me effortlessly carry THREE folding chairs. At least they’re easy to impress…
--As I finally left for the day, my sixth grade boys asked me where I was going and why, in Korean, and I answered them, in Korean. They were duly impressed with my “mastery” of the language and ooooed and ahhhed. Then, of course, they asked me if I was going to see my boyfriend (I think they think I must have a secret one, since in their experience it’s impossible to be single) and when I said no, laughed, and turned away, I could hear them call, “Girlfriend?” Sometimes they’re so creative.