Getting Schooled.

Ex-pat communities are always somewhat strange – people gathered together for no other reason than they share a skin color, a national anthem or a language. These commonalities are further highlighted when you’re in a country where the language barrier is daunting; suddenly the mere fact that you can understand someone’s conversation across the street gives license to introduce yourself, join them for a drink and swap cell phone numbers. Even though I’ve never had much of a problem talking to complete strangers, it takes a while to get over feeling like…well, a loser. No matter how hard you try to control your inflection, you inevitably come across as the new kid on the playground with no friends. “Hey guys. I was just walking by and saw you. So I thought I’d, you know. Stop and say, you know. Hey. I’m, um, Travis? I just got here. Are you teachers? Am I still talking?”

But the thing is that even though some people have been over here for years, everyone remembers what it was like to be fresh-off-the-boat, and so with a knowing nod usually overlook the first bumbling introduction. It’s in this awkward way that you start meeting people, and then they introduce you to friends, and friends-of-friends, and soon your phone starts to fill up and you can step away from YouTube and into a social scene.

Which is where I found myself these past couple of weeks. Starting to get over the first-month hump of going out every time someone asked (because how can you say no to someone you just met? What if they never ask again? And you’re forced to spend the rest of the year locked in your apartment watching old Oprah episodes online?) I had begun to get into a routine of sorts.

The more foreigners I meet, the more I find they fall into two camps: those who want to speak Korean, and those who don’t. I have also found that almost every other characteristic that can be attributed to them stem from this central point; the foreigners who have taken an interest in learning Korean are less likely to make inane statements about the country (Have you noticed that all the older Koreans hate foreigners?) and are more likely to know cool places to go on a Friday night. It was this crowd who referred Pixie to me as the best Korean teacher in Busan, and after meeting her and signing up for classes late one night at a bar (see? It’s a good thing I went out every night), my classes finally started today.

As my coworkers were also interested in learning the language, we arrived at 11:00 A.M. this morning to a building by Pusan’s National University, each gripping notebooks and freshly sharpened pencils; a group of teachers reduced to nervous students on the first day of school. Greeted by a perky Korean woman, I introduced myself and told her we were looking for Pixie – which is when she introduced herself as Pixie. Whom I had already met. Good, Travis. Laughing about how it was late and dark and did she get a new haircut? I was quickly let off the hook and we were shown to our classroom, a decent sized space across the hall from a group of students who sounded to me like they were learning Chinese. Or Japanese.

    Me: Oh, the school offers Chinese classes, too?
    Pixie: What? No, just Korean. Why?

Wondering if there was a three-strikes-and-you’re-an-idiot rule, I silently agreed to only speak when spoken to, and settled in for the first of our two-hour lessons. Which was incredible. Sitting on the other side of a language class for the first time since beginning to teach ESL was eye-opening, both for my Korean vocabulary and my day job.

This man is the reason I can read Korean. Love him.

The ever-patient Pixie slowly took us through the Hangol alphabet, an incredibly straightforward set of characters laid out by a Korean king in 1444. This king, apparently fed up with the complex Chinese characters that kept most of that country and all of his illiterate, set out to make a written language every commoner could use. Five hundred years later it’s pretty clear he succeeded, and now every Korean can admire him daily – as his image still adorns the currency. His goal for the characters? "A wise man can acquaint himself with them before the morning is over; a stupid man can learn them in the space of ten days." Apparently we were somewhere in the middle; after two hours of chanting and grunting, we were assigned a series of scripts to trace for Wednesday’s class and sent on our way.

Armed with the fledgling ability to read, the city had now become a giant library for us. Every sign was a learning opportunity, and we excitedly piled on the subway back to our neighborhood, proudly sounding out each stop as it flashed across the screen on the train. A helpful reminder I’m sure our fellow passengers appreciated.

Returning to my classroom this afternoon, I had a newfound appreciation for what my kids go through, and tried to remember to extend the same patience Pixie afforded a group of twentysomethings who struggled to learn the Korean alphabet to my group of ten year-olds, who are struggling to paraphrase complex passages about carbohydrates and proteins. And the coolest part? I totally scored points with my kids when I could read their Korean names aloud. After looking at me like I had just sprouted another head, they animatedly started speaking Korean back at me, which is when I had to explain that while I could read, I still couldn’t understand much of anything. “Don’t worry, Teacher. You’ll get it. It’s easy. Not like English.”