Sweet potato on pizza actually doesn't taste that bad

Sometimes Korea feels like an episode of the Twilight Zone. It makes me feel uncomfortable, sad, confused, scared, bewildered, empathetic, and inspired all at once.

Take, for instance, those goddamn adorable kids who come to school every single day, beaming with a smile that stretches from ear to ear, and waving hello so feverishly that I’m amazed their hands don’t just snap off at the wrist.

At their age, my biggest concern was making sure I caught the Simpsons at 5:00, 6:00, and 7:30, watched the Much Music Countdown on Fridays, and had a sufficient amount of time to veg on video games. If I didn’t accomplish at least some of those things, it meant I didn’t have a good day.

Korean children, on the other hand, have different ways of spending their afternoons. They go to academies after school and study Math, Science, and/or English until 10:00 at night, then go home to do homework until 2:00 in the morning before waking up four hours later to start the day all over again. Granted, this doesn’t apply to all kids here—some might go to music, art or taekwondo lessons, while others actually get to be a kid and play soccer or spend hours playing Minecraft—but sadly, it would seem this is not the case for the majority of children here.

I was pleased to hear my co-workers acknowledging the severity of the situation that so many of our students find themselves in during one particular lunch conversation last term. However, during that same conversation I learned about a certain strategy that parents use here to keep their children focussed on their schoolwork, and it absolutely broke my heart. Apparently, parents can buy this box that basically resembles a giant phone booth. They lock their child in the phone booth with their homework for hours on end and stand there, watching over their child like a guard on duty.

And yet, those same kids are the ones who come to school every day with eyes that light up if you just say hi, give them a high five or first bump, or even call them by name if you’ve gotten that far with them. I admire their ability to retain such optimism and high energy levels by feeding off of each other. I think that’s why they’re so close and affectionate with one another—it’s not uncommon to see boys here holding hands or even sitting on each other’s laps—they rely on one another to keep sane.

Then there are the women who live the life of a 1950’s housewife, except they also happen to have a job. Take, for example, this conversation I had with one of the Admin workers in the office the other day.

Her: I was here until 10 pm last night working on paperwork!

Me: That’s terrible!

Her: And today is my son’s birthday! I wish I was at home with him.

Me: I’m sorry. What did you get him for his birthday?

Her: *Laughing embarrassed* Nothing! I haven’t gotten him anything yet!

Me: Well I guess not, since you were here until 10 last night! Why don’t you get your husband to buy the gift?

Her: *Eyes pop open and her mouth drops as I evidently just blew her mind* Oh yeah, you’re right! I have a husband!

Sidenote: She ended up buying the gift.

This woman works so hard at work and at home that she forgot she even has a husband! And she's not alone. Women cook, clean, run errands, and they work, all while wearing a smile, because it’s just the burden they have to carry, having been born with a vagina and all, and they just bear it.

And why is this allowed to happen? Because they have these archaic notions about gender roles ingrained in their minds that women have no sense of direction and are useless with technology, because their place is in the kitchen, while men have to be manly men who show no sign of emotion and are the physical pillar of the family. Unfortunately, these gender roles both validate their existence and trap them in place.

Note: I admit that I probably shouldn't generalize; this is just what I have observed and heard from the teachers at my school several times over the past six months, but it is completely possible that this is simply an anomaly among the general population in Korea.

Clearly, I have my opinions about certain cultural differences I have witnessed here in Korea. However, navigating these cultural lines as a foreigner can be precarious business, because it’s very tempting to judge right from wrong or take offence to certain things. (For example, a co-teacher once called me “soft” and “weak” like her son, who is studying to be a pianist, because I love music and the arts and I like to talk about my family, whom I love very much.) But what right do I have to judge their values? After all, a lot of their social ideologies do seem to be slowly evolving over time, especially among younger Koreans; but these evolutions, I have to think, have come from open dialogue and an exchange of ideas between cultures.

Even the racist comments that sometimes come out of the mouths of the children or the laughter at the sight of any character with dark skin are simply the result of a lack of exchange of ideas. For example, I’ve often wondered since being called Barack Obama for the first time by my students way back when I first started, what the cultural reference point for people of colour was for Korean children before Barack Obama was president. Even my own co-teacher looked on in awe, as if seeing a new life form, when she first caught sight of my buddy, who happens to have long dreadlocks. It’s simply a lack of exposure to different ideas.

Therefore, rather than take offence when they comment on how I differ from what they consider to be a cultural norm, I share my own experiences so that we can partake in a true cultural exchange. (For example, when a co-teacher commented that she was grateful that I was around because she was directionally challenged, being a woman and all, and couldn’t remember where she parked her car, I pointed out that in my previous relationship, I was the directionally challenged one and Ashley was the human compass.) Sure, they might just laugh off some of the things I say, but they also might not. I’m simply offering a different perspective while acknowledging their own.

I can lament the difficult life of a Korean child, or I can engage in conversations with other Korean teachers about the challenges facing Canadian education so that our ideas and values can evolve and grow together. I mean as recently as last March, the Seoul Chief of Education told the Korean Herald that “Korean students don’t really have time to be happy because of all the pressure to get good grades, get into a good university, get a fine job, and then make good money” and now they are trying to reform the education system to ease the pressure on their students. I have to think this change in philosophy has to have come from comparing their own results over recent years with those of other countries, because that’s what our own education policy makers do back home: they compare themselves to the other guys and make changes accordingly. I recall back when Chris Spence was still manning the Toronto District School Board, he traveled to other countries to see what the TDSB could learn abroad. Change is always inevitable; it’s simple art, man: you mix two colours together and you get something entirely new.

The difficulty in being in an entirely different environment such as Korea lies in remembering not to judge, no matter how great the urge, and no matter how weird their pizza toppings might seem, because sweet potato on pizza actually doesn't taste that bad. I'll never go out of my way to order it, but it doesn't taste that bad.