12/23/07
I ride the subway. I am a vole scurrying my way through a maze of underground tunnels. Herded into subway cars like cattle, bodies pressed against bodies. The smell of moth balls and ginger mix with amber and spice. We are all looking, gazing at each other when our eyes are averted.
There are stealthier ways to stare, facing the windows the reflections of people stare back like ghosts, and it is easier for a voyeur like myself. But more often than not, I am the subject being stared at. I get double takes. From behind, I fit the mold; petite, dark hair, somewhat stylish, but when I turn and face them, they look again, startled by my white skin and round eyes. I smile, aware of their surprise.
The wind rushed down through the tunnel as I rode the escalator up to street level, where I was greeted by a Korean man, dressed smartly in a suit and a long black jacket. "Danielle?" he asked. I put out my hand, slightly ashamed that it was still wet from the hand sanitizer I'd just slathered on my skin. "I'm Paul," he said.
Since finding out about my little predicament, I had been scouring the internet looking for jobs in and around Seoul. I had applied for four positions on Saturday and Sunday and had received an e-mail from Paul Cho, a local recruiter saying I was just the person they were looking for. We set a time to meet on Tuesday and I rode the subway an hour into Seoul. In the e-mail, he never mentioned the name of the school and I began searching my sent e-mail to see if I could find the exact school he was referring to. No luck. Oh well, I thought, I'm going to see the school, so I'll know it then.
He steered me in the direction of a building, just opposite the subway exit. He asked about my current situation, and I explained as best I could what had happened. We rode the elevator up twelve flights, briefly chatting about my qualifications. When the doors opened, there was no school. Just an office.
I was shuttled into a small room, handed some scalding tea in a paper cup, while Paul sat down next to me and proceeded to speak in Korean to a one-armed man in a cream sweater who'd suddenly appeared. The one-armed man sat across the table. He took out several pieces of paper with Korean written on them. "Do you have your resume?" Paul asked. I handed it to the one-armed man. He began reading it and continued speaking in Korean to Paul, as if I was not in the room.
Suddenly, he looked up at me and said, "I speak some English, so why don't you try to explain to me what happened with your current employer?" Some English? That sounded pretty perfect to me. I tried to explain. "Ahuh, yes. Okay," he replied. We are a new school. You will be the first foreign teacher we will hire. We will pay you 2.5 million Won." (more than I am currently making) "We have a very nice apartment near the school, very clean, very new, but you will have to share with two other people. Or we have an apartment where all of the foreigners live, in Itaewon. Which do you prefer?"
I'd been to Itaewon. It was dodgy. The only dodgy place I'd seen since arriving. A mesh of different cultures all corralled into one small area. "I guess I'll share." Wait a minute, this is all hypothetical right? I haven't said I would take it. I don't even know what the job is, where it is, who I'll be teaching, if there is a set curriculum, what ages or grades the students are in. "How many rooms does it have?" I ask, second guessing my hypothetical answer.
"Oh, it is very small. One room." One room! Are you joking me? You want me to share one room with two other strangers.
"I think I'd prefer the other option."
Paul and the one-arm man began speaking in Korean again. What is going? They both speak English and they're interviewing someone to teach English, in an English school, shouldn't this interview be in English? The one-armed man pulled out more paper and began filling in blanks in English. I stared at the paper, caught the word "contract" and opened my mouth,
"I don't want to sign any contracts. I'm still looking around and checking out options."
"Oh, okay. When can you let us know?" asked the one-armed man.
"I'll let you know by the end of the week." I could have told him right then that there was no way I was taking this job, but I didn't want to offend anyone.
For the next few minutes they continued to talk in Korean and Paul began filling out paperwork. I watched him fill in the amount of 1,000,000 Won which is the recruiters fee when a teacher is successfully placed. He thinks he's got this, that I'll actually take this job. Part of me felt angry and part of me felt bad for him; he looked so desperate.
On the elevator ride down, Paul told me what a great opportunity it was, that it was incredible pay, and that I should really think about it. I left him at the subway, thankful I'm not someone who will take money over peace of mind.
Over the next week and a half, I had two more interviews. I turned down one because the hours were 12-midnight and it required mandatory overtime for six months, so I would have been working 6 days a week and making lots of money. Again, peace of mind won out. The second place didn't offer me a position because it would require that they give me an entire month off for the wedding because of how the courses were run. I was starting to feel a little panicked, wanting to be able to start a new job by January, but feeling so overwhelmed and rushed by that prospect that I wasn't sure it was worth it.
I arrived early at school one day, determined to ask for guidance. I told my supervisor about my dilemma and asked for her advice. She sighed, grabbed my hand and said, "I'm so sorry you have to go through this. I wish we could keep you." I nodded, I'd hear her speaking with some of the other teachers about her frustrations about wanting to keep me as a teacher. I'd heard she'd even been crying because she felt so terrible. I didn't blame her, I didn't blame the school, I knew it was out of her control and that the school was slowly going under from all of the competition cropping up in Migeum.
"Hold on," she said. She walked over to Mr. Choi and began speaking to him in Korean. He nodded, glanced at me, and then nodded again. I sat up straight, tried to look distraught and a little desperate. They both stood and walked toward me. "Mr. Choi said that another SLP school is hiring but not until March, but he will call them and see if they will interview you. And he said, you can stay here as long as you need."
"I think all the teachers are my children," Mr. Choi said, "and I want my children to be somewhere they will be happy. So take your time."
I let out a deep breath, and felt a weight lift off my chest. Within an hour, I had an interview scheduled for the following morning. I rode the subway two hours to Uijongbu, had a twenty minute interview, and then rode the subway two hours back and went straight to work. I was offered the position and will be starting in March. Uijongbu is a smaller city north of Seoul, known for it's "mountains," or giant rock outcroppings. From my short visit, I think it will be a good fit. I did not have a knot in the pit of my stomach like I did at the other interviews. It's the same curriculum I am teaching now, only I will be teaching Kindergardners.
Things I love about Korea: Kimbop, a sushi roll with spam, carrots, pickled radish, and some other greens I can't identify, it's 1200 Won ($1.20) and it will fill me up for most of the day: people fall asleep anywhere, including my shoulder: the girls at Dunkin' Donuts know how I like my coffee and they start preparing it the moment I walk in the door; speaking of Dunkin' Donuts, I've seen people eat 10 donuts in one sitting, but five or six is pretty average; and the people, their eagerness to laugh, to say hello in English as I'm walking by, and their willingness to help whenever I look lost or confused.
Today, Chris and I are heading to Pusan in the southern part of Korea, to escape for a few days together. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday! Know that I am thinking of you.
There are stealthier ways to stare, facing the windows the reflections of people stare back like ghosts, and it is easier for a voyeur like myself. But more often than not, I am the subject being stared at. I get double takes. From behind, I fit the mold; petite, dark hair, somewhat stylish, but when I turn and face them, they look again, startled by my white skin and round eyes. I smile, aware of their surprise.
The wind rushed down through the tunnel as I rode the escalator up to street level, where I was greeted by a Korean man, dressed smartly in a suit and a long black jacket. "Danielle?" he asked. I put out my hand, slightly ashamed that it was still wet from the hand sanitizer I'd just slathered on my skin. "I'm Paul," he said.
Since finding out about my little predicament, I had been scouring the internet looking for jobs in and around Seoul. I had applied for four positions on Saturday and Sunday and had received an e-mail from Paul Cho, a local recruiter saying I was just the person they were looking for. We set a time to meet on Tuesday and I rode the subway an hour into Seoul. In the e-mail, he never mentioned the name of the school and I began searching my sent e-mail to see if I could find the exact school he was referring to. No luck. Oh well, I thought, I'm going to see the school, so I'll know it then.
He steered me in the direction of a building, just opposite the subway exit. He asked about my current situation, and I explained as best I could what had happened. We rode the elevator up twelve flights, briefly chatting about my qualifications. When the doors opened, there was no school. Just an office.
I was shuttled into a small room, handed some scalding tea in a paper cup, while Paul sat down next to me and proceeded to speak in Korean to a one-armed man in a cream sweater who'd suddenly appeared. The one-armed man sat across the table. He took out several pieces of paper with Korean written on them. "Do you have your resume?" Paul asked. I handed it to the one-armed man. He began reading it and continued speaking in Korean to Paul, as if I was not in the room.
Suddenly, he looked up at me and said, "I speak some English, so why don't you try to explain to me what happened with your current employer?" Some English? That sounded pretty perfect to me. I tried to explain. "Ahuh, yes. Okay," he replied. We are a new school. You will be the first foreign teacher we will hire. We will pay you 2.5 million Won." (more than I am currently making) "We have a very nice apartment near the school, very clean, very new, but you will have to share with two other people. Or we have an apartment where all of the foreigners live, in Itaewon. Which do you prefer?"
I'd been to Itaewon. It was dodgy. The only dodgy place I'd seen since arriving. A mesh of different cultures all corralled into one small area. "I guess I'll share." Wait a minute, this is all hypothetical right? I haven't said I would take it. I don't even know what the job is, where it is, who I'll be teaching, if there is a set curriculum, what ages or grades the students are in. "How many rooms does it have?" I ask, second guessing my hypothetical answer.
"Oh, it is very small. One room." One room! Are you joking me? You want me to share one room with two other strangers.
"I think I'd prefer the other option."
Paul and the one-arm man began speaking in Korean again. What is going? They both speak English and they're interviewing someone to teach English, in an English school, shouldn't this interview be in English? The one-armed man pulled out more paper and began filling in blanks in English. I stared at the paper, caught the word "contract" and opened my mouth,
"I don't want to sign any contracts. I'm still looking around and checking out options."
"Oh, okay. When can you let us know?" asked the one-armed man.
"I'll let you know by the end of the week." I could have told him right then that there was no way I was taking this job, but I didn't want to offend anyone.
For the next few minutes they continued to talk in Korean and Paul began filling out paperwork. I watched him fill in the amount of 1,000,000 Won which is the recruiters fee when a teacher is successfully placed. He thinks he's got this, that I'll actually take this job. Part of me felt angry and part of me felt bad for him; he looked so desperate.
On the elevator ride down, Paul told me what a great opportunity it was, that it was incredible pay, and that I should really think about it. I left him at the subway, thankful I'm not someone who will take money over peace of mind.
Over the next week and a half, I had two more interviews. I turned down one because the hours were 12-midnight and it required mandatory overtime for six months, so I would have been working 6 days a week and making lots of money. Again, peace of mind won out. The second place didn't offer me a position because it would require that they give me an entire month off for the wedding because of how the courses were run. I was starting to feel a little panicked, wanting to be able to start a new job by January, but feeling so overwhelmed and rushed by that prospect that I wasn't sure it was worth it.
I arrived early at school one day, determined to ask for guidance. I told my supervisor about my dilemma and asked for her advice. She sighed, grabbed my hand and said, "I'm so sorry you have to go through this. I wish we could keep you." I nodded, I'd hear her speaking with some of the other teachers about her frustrations about wanting to keep me as a teacher. I'd heard she'd even been crying because she felt so terrible. I didn't blame her, I didn't blame the school, I knew it was out of her control and that the school was slowly going under from all of the competition cropping up in Migeum.
"Hold on," she said. She walked over to Mr. Choi and began speaking to him in Korean. He nodded, glanced at me, and then nodded again. I sat up straight, tried to look distraught and a little desperate. They both stood and walked toward me. "Mr. Choi said that another SLP school is hiring but not until March, but he will call them and see if they will interview you. And he said, you can stay here as long as you need."
"I think all the teachers are my children," Mr. Choi said, "and I want my children to be somewhere they will be happy. So take your time."
I let out a deep breath, and felt a weight lift off my chest. Within an hour, I had an interview scheduled for the following morning. I rode the subway two hours to Uijongbu, had a twenty minute interview, and then rode the subway two hours back and went straight to work. I was offered the position and will be starting in March. Uijongbu is a smaller city north of Seoul, known for it's "mountains," or giant rock outcroppings. From my short visit, I think it will be a good fit. I did not have a knot in the pit of my stomach like I did at the other interviews. It's the same curriculum I am teaching now, only I will be teaching Kindergardners.
Things I love about Korea: Kimbop, a sushi roll with spam, carrots, pickled radish, and some other greens I can't identify, it's 1200 Won ($1.20) and it will fill me up for most of the day: people fall asleep anywhere, including my shoulder: the girls at Dunkin' Donuts know how I like my coffee and they start preparing it the moment I walk in the door; speaking of Dunkin' Donuts, I've seen people eat 10 donuts in one sitting, but five or six is pretty average; and the people, their eagerness to laugh, to say hello in English as I'm walking by, and their willingness to help whenever I look lost or confused.
Today, Chris and I are heading to Pusan in the southern part of Korea, to escape for a few days together. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday! Know that I am thinking of you.
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