Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Teaching English in Korea: Hogwon (Private) versus EPIK (Public)


This probably won't be a particularly humorous or interesting post, but it covers some stuff about teaching here, which is probably something I should at least touch upon in this blog.

As of the beginning of February, I've been back in Korea for about three months. I think this means I'm probably overdue for a post about my job, since it is, after all, what allowed me to come back to this part of the world. As I've mentioned previously, I'm now a middle-school teacher at a public school. I got the job through EPIK (English Program In Korea), the federal government's English-education program. When I was in Korea before, from August 2010 to September 2011, I worked at a “hogwon,” a private, after-school English-education academy. Aside from the fact that my job title – teacher – hasn't changed from hogwon to public school, the job itself couldn't be more different.

Sharing (albeit slightly shorter) hours with the worker drones most of them are destined to become, kids in Korea go to school Monday to Friday from 8AM to 4:30PM. As I understand it, they used to attend school every other Saturday from 8AM to noon as well, but a recent increase in Monday to Friday hours has since eliminated the fortnightly Saturday classes. A generous move by the government that hopefully will allow Korean kids more time to be kids, a concept with which a great many of them are completely unfamiliar. This means that my working hours are now 8:30AM to 4:30PM, Monday to Friday. I'm uncertain whether I'm ashamed or proud to be holding down a semi-legitimate nine to five for the first time since April, 2008.

At the hogwon I worked at in 2010-2011, I was required to be in the school from 1:30 to 9PM. This change in working hours has been the basis for the biggest differences in my experiences in Korea. And like everything else, it isn't a matter of “which one is better?” My working hours at the hogwon allowed me, if I so desired, or lacked the personal responsibility to do otherwise, to stay out as late as I desired, any night of the week. Accordingly, I had a more exciting, and in all likelihood, more expensive social life. My hours at public school, especially when combined with the fact that I live a fair way outside of town and buses don't go there past 10PM, have made my Monday through Thursday social life less exciting (i.e. nonexistent). The upside to this is that I'm probably spending less money, and I'm certainly being healthier and more productive. Before I signed my current contract, I was aware that I wanted a more personally productive year than my previous Korea-experience encouraged, and this was actually my primary motivation for going after a public school job. So far, so good.

Nearly all aspects of teaching English are different at a hogwon and at public school. Bear in mind I've only worked at one hogwon, and one public school, so the generalizations I'm going to be making may not be true across the board. Below are some of the most glaring differences, and my opinions thereof:

  • Class sizes: At my hogwon, class sizes ranged from three to twelve students, with an average of probably seven or eight per class. I taught the same groups of students Monday to Friday, or in some cases, two or three days a week. All told, I was teaching roughly 60 different students in a given term, and 90% or so of these students would carry over to the next term. They all had English names, like Kevin or Suzy, and because of the limited class sizes, I was able to get to know each of them. At public school, class sizes range from twenty to thirty-five students, and I see each class once a week. I teach 20 classes per week, which means I see approximately 500 students each week. I am not attempting to learn their names, even though roughly half of them are either “Kim” or “Kang,” and don't feel particularly guilty about this since most of the Korean teachers don't do so either – and they share a common language. Obvious advantage: Hogwon.
  • Class frequency and working hours: At my hogwon, I spent seven and a half hours per day at school, the first one and a half hours of which I was required to be in the office, even if I had no planning to do. The rest of the day, from 3 to 9PM, I spent in class, with a rare 45-minute break every now and then. I probably averaged 35 40-minute classes a week, and for the most part, these classes didn't change with the days of the week. At public school, I teach 20 different classes each week, and each class is 45-minutes long. All told, I spend 15 hours teaching each week, although I am required to be at school for 40. Since I teach roughly the same lesson to each class, this means I do very little planning, and accordingly, have approximately 20 hours per week (discounting 5 for lunch) during which I am in my office. What I'm getting at is that this job provides me with a great deal of free time. I have a computer and an internet connection, so it's easy to kill time, but I've been trying to be productive with it. Basically, I've been working my way through 5 years of backlogged photographs. It's been one hell of a chore, but it's going to be amazing once I'm done, if I ever truly am. Student advantage: Hogwon. Personal advantage: Public.
  • Student ages: At my hogwon, I taught students from first through eighth grade. The younger the kids were, the more enthusiastic about learning they were. Also, the cuter they were. I now teach at a middle school, which was not my first choice, but it allowed me to come to Jeju, where I really wanted to end up. Middle schoolers, as we all know, kinda suck. I guess that's unfair, because I have quite a few good classes full of enthusiastic learners. But I also have jerks, and while I'm sure they also exist in grade school, they certainly don't exist with the frequency they do in middle school. Also, they're often pimply, self-conscious, and awkward. Hopefully I'll be able to move to an elementary school in the near future. Personal advantage: Hogwon.
  • Teaching assistants: At hogwons, teaching assistants don't exist. But since classes don't usually exceed ten students, it's not too difficult to maintain a semblance of order in class. At public school, each class I go to has a teaching assistant, who is a Korean English teacher. The job of the assistant is primarily to maintain discipline, but also to help me to answer questions and translate as necessary, but as little as possible. I've learned something about assistants. Sure, everyone wants a pretty, young assistant to help in class, but the best assistants are the older women. The younger teachers are more likely to take abuse, but the older teachers don't take crap from anyone, and their classes are always full of well-behaved students. My ideal teaching assistant would be a 70 year-old ajima (an endearing and not necessarily familial term for “grandmother”) with a perm, a scowl, and a “love stick.” Yeah, yeah, now is the appropriate time to make a penis joke. A “love stick” is a ruler, or a bamboo rod, or some such thing that is used – more often as a threat than an actual tool – to encourage students to listen. It goes like this: if students aren't listening, they get slapped. Awesome. Advantage: None given, this is a draw.
  • Methodology: This could be (and certainly is) the topic of many doctoral theses. I have mixed feelings on how this should be handled, so I'll try to stick to the facts. At my hogwon, each class was expected to cover a particular book (or books) in a particular amount of time. Usually, a class would be expected to make it through a reading book and a workbook every two months. If the students weren't grasping the information, too bad. They had to finish the material in the time allotted, and they had to move up to the next level. Parents wanted to hear that their children were making progress, so we told them that's what was happening, even if it wasn't. Ideally, there would be some way to separate the education from the money, since I feel it is this connection that causes most of the problems with hogwons. But overall, teaching from the books we used did result in improved reading and writing skills. Unfortunately, this left very little time for speaking and listening – critical skills that are much more easily improved in a hogwon setting with 8 students in a class than in a public school setting with 30 students per class. Frustrating. At public school, I had zero days of training. I arrived and they said “teach them English.” Zero materials, zero standards, nothing. I usually pick a topic for the week, download a relevant PowerPoint presentation, and go through it in class. Maybe there is time for some kind of activity or game at the end. It's still a bit chaotic. Methodology advantage: Public school – but this advantage is negated by the class size and frequency.
  • My conclusions:
    • Students learn more English at hogwons than at public school. And unfortunately, lower-income families cannot afford to send their children to hogwons – they ain't cheap. So as with any other place on Earth (to my limited knowledge, anyway), education is more a function of economic standing than anything else.
    • Public school is a better environment for me to teach in, given my life objectives at present. I have a lot of free time at work in which I can, in theory, be productive. Additionally, my weekday life, although not as exciting as it was when I worked at the hogwon, has resulted in my living a healthier, not necessarily more fulfilling, but certainly more productive life.

If anyone made it through this whole post, I'm sorry. That was boring.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Back to the grind, back in Korea


EDIT: This is being posted one week after I wrote it.

I'm writing this in Korea. In a cheap hotel on Jeju Island, Korea (Google maps it) to be more precise. I'll be spending the next year here (although hopefully not in this hotel room...), working as an English teacher. While this is not the first time I've done this, it is my first time on Jeju. I spent a year teaching English to elementary- and middle-school students in Tongyeong (Google maps it, too), from August 2010 to September 2011. Why am I back in Korea?

Well, after dabbling in more “career paths” than I care to admit, teaching English in Korea has been the best option I've thusfar been able to make happen. Probably not the best based solely on financial gain, but certainly the best based on the combination of financial gain, quality of life, and opportunities presented. I made a bit more money as an Engineer, during my brief tenure as one from mid-2006 to mid-2008, enjoyed my day-to-day job more as a lift operator in New Zealand during the winter of 2008, and had more free time as a waiter / handyman in Australia in 2008 and 2009, but none of these jobs have provided quite the net personal benefit that teaching English did during my last adventure in Korea. So during the five months I spent back home in Colorado, from June through October, 2012, I spent a considerable amount of time looking for new teaching opportunities in Korea, hoping to quasi-replicate the amazing year I had here previously. And the fact that I've only worked for about three of the last 13 months and have been broke, living rent-free in my parents house (I'm now 30, by the way) while back home meant it was time to get back to work.

I landed at Incheon International Airport, one of the world's busiest airports (it lies just outside of Seoul), on the afternoon of October 24, and had about three and a half hours from the moment my flight touched down until my next flight would take off – from Gimpo International Airport, Seoul's other international airport. During this three and a half hours, I came to remember a few things that I loved about Korea. In order to get from Incheon to Gimpo, I had to (1) collect my checked baggage, (2) pass through customs and immigration at Incheon, (3) find my way to the inter-airport subway, (4) take this subway / rail line – a ride of 35 minutes, (5) collect my boarding pass at Gimpo, (6) go through security, and (7) get on my next flight. Would this have been doable in the United States? I don't really know, but it would be a lot more stressful, given the longer times required for each of the steps in this process. In Korea, I made it to my next flight with over an hour to spare. AND I wasn't forced to pay an excess baggage fee for this leg of my flight. I WAS forced to pay a $70 “extra bag” fee to take my camera gear from Denver to Seoul, and it would have been $270 if I hadn't just barely managed to get the weight of my primary bag down from 52 to 50 pounds, by means of transferring 2 pounds of stuff to another bag. Bear in mind this is just a transfer of weight. The plane was still carrying the same amount of weight. But the gate workers made me go through the loops, all over two pounds. Argh, whatever.

I landed in Jeju at about 8pm on October 24th, and after getting a ride to my aforementioned cheap hotel, I enjoyed a delicious meal of black pork, a Jeju specialty. I learned last night that it is only called “black pork” because the skin of the pigs raised on Jeju is black. Does it count as racism to charge more for black pigs? Regardless, it tasted about the same as normal pork. Delicious. Kind of like how black people taste the same as other races … delicious.

More than a little jetlagged, I fell asleep more solidly than I can remember having happened in the last few years. In fact, I woke up at 3 in the morning to find that all my lights were still on.

So far, so good. And then I had a shitty experience.

I was picked up outside my hotel by “Jimmy” (Korean name unknown) at 9:30 AM on October 25th. Jimmy was the guy who got me my job. He's basically an intermediary between potential public school teachers and EPIK (English Program In Korea), which is the Korean public school system, on Jeju. We spent the next five hours doing paperwork and whatnot that was required for me to teach. First, we went to the hospital, where I took a drug test that involved taking 4 (yes, four) vials of blood, and a urine test. Then, we went to the Education office, where I re-signed a contract that I'd signed earlier and emailed to Jimmy. Next, it was off to the bank so I could open an account so I could be, you know, paid. And then the ugliness.

Let's go back a ways. Prior to my five months in America, I'd spent about 3 months teaching English in Vietnam. This was roughly March – May, 2012. Long story short, I ended up leaving Vietnam with about $2,900 US in Vietnamese dong – yes, their currency is the dong, and yes, the currency I had with me in America was a gangsta-style half-inch-thick roll of 500,000 and 200,000 dong notes. I never exchanged it for American dollars because I wasn't able to find anywhere with a halfway decent exchange rate and was under the impression that it would be a different story once I was back in Korea. Turns out I was wrong.

After opening my new bank account with NH Bank, I asked if I could deposit my Vietnamese currency and was told, “Nope. Y'all gots ta roll inta one dem ekchange banks t' do dat.” Not verbatim. I explained to Jimmy that I needed to go to an exchange bank, and we went to Jeju's branch of KEB – Korea Exchange Bank – with whom I banked with when I was here before and had had nothing but positive things to say. We were in a rush at this moment, so I didn't bother counting the bills the teller had given me. The currency exchange accomplished, we carried on, taking care of the rest of the paperwork necessary for me to spend a year here as an English teacher. It seemed that everything went fine, and the rest of the day's interviews and paperwork breezed by. At about 3:30, I was back at my hotel with no obligations for the rest of the day, and looked at my financial situation.

At KEB, I should have been given about 2.8 million Korean Won. I'd even been given a receipt that said I was given about 2.8 million Korean Won. Unfortunately, I had only been given about 1.8 million Won. Only now realizing the situation a couple hours after the exchange, I panicked, and counted my money again. Panic, again. After re-re-confirming that I was about 1,000,000 Won (something like $900) short of what I should have been, I called Jimmy, and briefly explained the situation to him. He seemed a bit disbelieving, but suggested I return to the bank and explain the situation to them, with the stipend that if I encountered a problem, I was to call him. Heart racing, I walked back to the KEB, and pulled a number from the queue machine.

My number was called, but it wasn't pulled by the woman with whom I dealt earlier, so I pantomimed that I needed to speak with a specific teller. A few minutes later, I was “conversing” with the teller who had shortchanged me $900 a couple hours before. I went into this situation with the assumption that, no, she hadn't tried to steal $900 from me (she's Korean after all, and Koreans don't steal, right? Is that racist?). This assumption was based on my previous year here, during which I heard multiple stories of wallets being lost and subsequently returned with ALL the money contained therein untouched. Her reaction, however, just led to more questions.

When I explained that I was short one million Won, she didn't dispute the fact at all. She simply grabbed a million Won and handed it to me. She gave me $900 without batting an eye, checking records, or contacting a manager. I don't know whether this implies she knew she'd been caught stealing, or if she had, after my departure, realized that she'd shortchanged me, and just wanted to fix the situation immediately. I think this will remain one of life's unsolved mysteries.

Ah reckon that's just about enough for one entry. I'm going to try and be more vigilant about writing, and I'm optimistically saying that I will, in general, try to put up a new post every other week or so for the duration of my time in Korea. Next story: the first weekend. Spoiler alert: it involves a hospital visit...