day 56

I've always enjoyed teaching but haven't ever had a real chance to do it outside of church. Now that I'm here, I love it: I love the children, the teaching, the language, everything. Of course there is the bad, mixed with the good, but even the bad turns into good sometimes as an experience I had on Friday April 19 illustrates.

The week previous, on April 12, I taught a particular class of students for the first time. The name of the class, which uses the name of the textbook they use, is "Let's Go 2." It is a beginner level class, with two girls and four boys, all around 12 years old. One boy, Jee-hoon, immediately proved to be a problem. He is enormous, sumo wrestler huge, with an attitude to match. He wouldn't sit still or shut-up for anything. The look of defiance in his eyes whenever I tried to maintain control of the class conveyed contempt, disrespect, and arrogance. His behavior was extremely disruptive and made teaching the class a joke. When class was over and he walked by me, I tensed my gut, thinking he might slug me, so deep was his disrespect and obvious his bullying nature. I was VERY discouraged.

After class I asked Jim, the assistant to the hagwon director, for his advice. He knew and had previously taught Jee-hoon and knew the key to controlling him. He said there was one thing this boy feared - his own father. Jim told me how to use this to me advantage and so I waited until the following Friday to teach the class.

The moment I walked into class, I heard chaos and Jee-hoon walked up to me and pushed a tasteless troll doll in my face to shock me and watch my reaction. I ignored the doll and told him to sit down. He did not. I told him to calm down and take his seat immediately. He did not. Knowing this was a beginners class and that he wouldn't understand 98% of what I was about to say, I said very sternly with my finger in his face, "Listen! You sit down right now! You sit down right now and do what I tell you and remain calm and if you don't remain calm and do what I tell you I'm going to write your name on the board (pointing to the board) and every time you get out of line I'm going to put a mark next to your name and at the end of the class I'm going to report everything you've done to your FATHER!"

I am not exaggerating what happened next. The INSTANT I said the word 'father,' the smirk that had been on his face vanished and he looked pale. He'd been backed into a corner by then and he immediately sat down. The whole class was silent. Jim had told me there was no question he would know the word 'father' and that this would be exactly how he would react. It was spooky.

This would be a good story if it ended there but it got even better. I felt the class still had the chance to get out of control so I gave them all a piece of paper and started reciting vocabulary word they'd recently studied and told them to write the word and draw a picture of the word. The moment of Jee-hoon's fear had passed, though he was still a little disruptive, but it was a significant change from the previous week. He took to my writing/drawing assignment in a way that surprised me. I noticed he is an amazing little artist and he loves to draw. Each student was so proud and insistent that I see and approve of every silly little drawing they each produced. (Imagine hearing, day after day, the shouts of perhaps the most common English word Korean students know: "Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!")

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I found myself rooting for Jee-hoon by the end of the classs that he might actually be learning English. Now I think he is a sweet, misunderstood kid who just needs to be challenged in the right way. In fact, that's my current theory which has been borne out through a half dozen of my own experiences: the problem students in each class that are the most disruptive are usually the brightest students and they are simply bored and need to be challenged. Once I find a way to challenge them, they become some of my favorite students.