Manifest Destiny

First, an apology. We have had computer and website problems. I'm hoping to be back on schedule with the postings a.s.a.p. Thanks for your understanding, Nat
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Today, the elegant, soft-spoken Sang-Seoup is my TA. He is the type of person who can quietly, effortlessly, take control of a room. In other words, people want to listen to him because he seems like a guy who would have answers. His focus is on substance, but he's also gifted with style.

The students are quick to ask and answer questions. They're willing to extend themselves, reaching for new ideas. This is especially impressive, given that this is an education system in which rote memorization is highly valued. Rob has noticed this same encouraging trend in the students in his religions class. They're committed to learning. Today, my students think aloud, share, and joke. Notoriously clumsy, when I trip exiting the washroom, one of the girls admonishes, "Teacher!" When another girl walks in with two cups of coffee, I tease, and say, "Thank you." It turns out the coffee really is for me, and she squeals with delight as I accept it.

A young man asks for permission to ask a personal question. I brace for it as he asks if I've ever been to Lonsdale Quay in Vancouver. When I explain that I used to take Kael there for walks in his stroller, he's thrilled. It turns out he visited the spot, and he feels we've made an important connection. This is reinforced when the class later sees a picture of my son. As in previous classes, they loudly say, "Aaaaah." They think he's very handsome and tall, and they marvel over his long, golden curls.

It's time for a quick lunch with Husband. We gobble down an incredible fishcake with a sweet, tangy tartar sauce, amazing soup with lots of smoky, woodsy, mushrooms, and a sweet jasmine rice soup for dessert.

Given the mmorning, I'm walking on air, but this sense of euphoria is suctioned right out of me when I go, sans Rob, for an afternoon tour with the Ugly Americans. I'm no scientist, but I would like to fully comprehend their ability to suck the air right out of the room. To be fair, we've only had ongoing issues with two U.A.s in particular, but together, this dynamic duo cuts a tornado-like swatch where 'ere they go.

We're visiting Chonnam University's Grades 7 through 9 Middle School. It's very difficult to capsulize an entire 2 1/2 hours worth of pure, unmitigated torture, especially since a veritable litany of offenses were committed, so for the sake of brevity, I'll highlight.

Dan, who is the biggest disappointment of the trip for me, instantly positions himself as the eminence grise of the group. Like a barnacle on a ship, he attaches himself to the principal, behaving alternately obsequious and pompous, but in the manner of one well-versed in the art of bottom kissing. This man is the ultimate chess player, capable of reconfiguring his countenance in a heartbeat. His soulful, warm brown eyes gaze admiringly at the principal, but turn flat, coal black when he looks at me. The pictures from this trip tell all: huge smiles when being watched, and a stone-cold firmly set grimace when not.

Dan feels compelled to moderate all discussions, and he, and or Gale, must always have the last word. He jockeys for position in photos, actually pushing me out of the frame. When I, just by chance, end up next to the principal for one picture, Dan slams his hand to his thigh in exasperation, the one instance in which he obviously betrays his carefully constructed facade.

Sadly, he has even pulled his dutiful mousewife/housewife into the charade. At the start of the trip she was an audiologist with no teaching experience. Three weeks later, she's an education expert with thirty years in the field. This reminds me of a friend who was once five years older than me and is now a year younger. Revisionist history at its finest.

The coup de gras occurs when Dan pulls out a sack of cheap pens and trinkets from his college and says, in essence, "Treats for everyone!" (Except the Canadian who gave him and his colleagues two gifts each.) As he does so, this Machiavellian maestro looks not at the principal, but directly at me, making sure that I have noticed his carefully calculated brazen act of one-upmanship.

I smile, breathe deeply, and summon my higher self to carry me through this base, vulgar display. It must have been so difficult for the man to have waited a whole week for payback. But here's the thing: Rob and I didn't set out to embarrass anyone at the Chonnam President's dinner. The Ugly Americans did that all by themselves that night. And today, they once again showed their true colours. Motivation is everything.

These machinations frustrate and befuddle me. I just don't understand the point of it all. Is this some sort of competition? If so, for what? Are they aiming to win the hearts and minds of the people, given their success with this policy elsewhere in the world?

Rob and I believe in treating everyone well, regardless of their station. We gave gifts to dinner attendees for the same reason that we've given gifts to our Teaching Assistants, bus drivers, and the entire cafeteria staff of nine: because we want to show appreciation. A friend of ours has coined the term "status people" to indicate those in our midst for whom status is of paramount importance. We are NOT status people.

Our colleagues seems to have an agenda entirely different from our own, as evidenced by their clear delineation of who rates a gift, and who doesn't, and how people are introduced. Dan the Man takes great pains to make it clear that he and Gale are professors, and I am not. They train teachers. When I point out that I also train teachers, and in a university, he summarily dismisses the information, and deflects attention in another direction. For one so large, he is such a small, small man.

Dan portrays himself as a kind, quiet, self-effacing fellow. When we first met, he joked about the notorious ego of the professor. As is always the case, three weeks later, the truth surfaces as he's revealed as a self-important, tedious, scheming windbag, and all around twit. Gale may be a bull in a china shop. She may make gross generalizations such as, "You can touch Africans (meaning African Americans), but you can't touch Jews. They don't like that." (I wonder how she determines the religion of her students. Or do all Jews just look the same?) Still, while Gale has no stop sign at the teeth, at least she's up front about it.

To hear these two tell it, to the middle school principal, Chonnam University's President, or just about anyone who will listen, Korean students are lazy and have poor English skills. I have no empirical data, but Rob and I vehemently disagree with this assessment, and we've been teaching immigrants and refugees for years. I'm astonished at their lack of respect for the students and their hosts.

They are also obsessed with controlling "bad" kids. Behavioural problems are reaching epidemic proportions! The sky is falling! Kids these days! Yes, I hear all of this and more as their list of infractions and indiscretions grows, and grows. Gale brays about the n'er do wells. . She congratulates the Koreans for clearly using the U.S. model for education. Apparently, Korean educators throughout history have nothing on the Americans and their "No Child Left Behind" policy. Of course the entire world is well aware of the success of that policy, and the entire American education system.

The odious Dan pontificates about his top-down approach to discipline - and he's a self-proclaimed educational psychology expert! I must point out that his theories fly in the face of everything I've learned in my most recent educational upgrading. the trend now is to help children to develop the ability to self-motivate and to develop empathy for their peers. We should be aiming for a student-centred approach in which they learn to think for themselves. I try to jump in and offer this thought, but it falls on deaf ears. This is ironic considering the presence of Kathy, the audiologist, or, in the recently adopted Orwellian vernacular, the education specialist with thirty years of experience in the field. The temerity of these people is astounding.

Anyone who may actually have been listening to the hosts during today's tour would have learned that the challenges in this Korean middle school are similar to those facing many North American schools. Kids, at this age especailly, are testing boundaries. While my American colleagues seem deeply disappointed to have learned that corporal punishment is out and positive reinforcement is in, I am not.

Technology poses another challenge, especially the regulation of cell phone use. Teacher upgrading is encouraged, but the movers and shakers opt for courses at their own expense rather than the government sponsored programs, for they get more bang for their buck, or should I say more wow for their won?

As in North America, women are ever so slowly moving up the ranks into administration. One area in which they're following the Canadian model (or the Manitoba model) and not the U.S. model is in the area of teacher salaries. Yes, Gale was brazen enough to ask, "So how much do you make?" In any culture it is rude to ask this question, but in a face-saving culture it's unthinkable, and the hosts actually express how uncomfortable they feel. She persists. It turns out the pay scale has been restructured in the last few years to their apparent satisfaction; teachers are paid based on what they teach. Ask this same question of most American teachers and you will get a very different response. Simply put, The Simpsons portrayal of the American Education system is not a parody.

I could write an entire book about this one positively dreadful experience, but I think I've wasted enough time and energy on this matter. I will wrap up this dreary section by saying I can't help but laugh a little inside each time Dan begins another of his long-winded, blowhard, "We come in friendship" schpiels. It reminds me very much of every science fiction movie in which the aliens (or humans) greet the other side by saying, "We come in peace." Invariably, this means the laser beams are about to start blasting signalling an all out war. For my part, I refuse to engage with these buffoons. I prefer to adhere to the thinking of English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton who wrote that, "The pen is mightier than the sword."

Since I've spent the last several hours ingesting garbage, I decide to continue the trend in the evening and make a day of it. Rob and I dine at the back gate vendor. I have a corndog with fries in the batter, Rob has a hotdog, no bun, and we both have a cup of tiny pork meatballs. I'm sorry to say, but it's just delicious! We walk it off on a grocery store run to pick up cans of iced coffee for Rob's students. They've been surprising him with treats, and he wants to reciprocate.

We also find treats for family and friends, little things they'll get a kick out of, like funky toiletry items, and utensils. A personal favourite is a baby set with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks. (Can babies and toddlers here really use chopsticks?) The set is labeled "Indi" and has pictures of the stereotypical North American Indian with headdress. Let me get this straight: We have an inaccurate image of a targeted people slaughtered for their land on utensils used by a group of people who had much of their countryside leveled just a few decades ago by that same power structure that now seeks to school them in the educational arts. Now, that's rich.

Before my brain explodes, I need to meditate, (I almost typed medicate - a Freudian slip?), and once again connect with a higher power. Not mine. One far greater. As always, I reach to the divine for guidance.