Korea In the Side-View Mirror: Reflections of a Former Peace Corps Volunteer

It was pure serendipity. The acceptance letter from Washington arrived September 2nd 1973, smack on my birthday. Wherever I was assigned, I thought, I was surely meant to go. Less than 3-months later, I found myself on a very cold hillside, overlooking a lake on the outskirts of Daegu, South Korea's 3rd largest city. Fifty of us, naive and hopeful Peace Corps Volunteers, from nearly every corner of the U.S., were about to embark on a transformative 90-day training experience that included Korean language training, cross-cultural understanding, and teaching English as a second language.

With Korean friends at a local park, Spring 1975

After our swearing-in ceremony at the U.S. Embassy in Seoul, I was assigned to teach English at Keimyung College in Daegu. Korea in those days was a developing country; there was virtually no middle class, few private cars, our classrooms were either freezing cold or sweltering, and always poorly lit. But Korean students then were all on a mission--working hard to succeed in school and to learn English to help propel their country forward. Little did they know they were indeed participating in a historic economic miracle.

Life as a Peace Corps volunteer then was challenging. There were few expats, fewer phones, and if you sent a letter home, you'd be lucky to hear back in 4-6 weeks, if at all. Communication was face to face. You would make arrangements days in advance to meet at a specific time and place, write it down and keep your fingers crossed. Students clamored for time with you to practice their English and to find out as much as possible about the world outside Korea. It was, as the Peace Corps ad says, "The toughest job you will ever love."

Several of my students at Keimyung College in Daegu in 1974

When I left Korea in the mid-seventies I was certain I would never see it again. As the years passed, the recollections of my life in Korea crystallized into increasingly romanticized memories. They became nearer and dearer to me in my life's side-view mirror.

Caution: Memories Are Closer and More Powerful Than They Appear

I married, raised a family and enjoyed a career in human resource management, banking, teaching and consulting--all of which allowed me to travel internationally and to keep the wanderlust, first acquired during my Peace Corps days, well nourished. Much to my surprise, business took me back to Korea, first for the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, and then on several trips to lead management seminars for Korean managers. Korea just kept calling me. Eventually, I answered.

Fast forward to 2011. Korea, now the 15th strongest economy in the world, welcomed me back as a professor of English. I have returned to the same metropolitan area I once lived in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I am now on the faculty of Yeungnam University, a vibrant, international campus with 27,000 students.

Current students enjoying a lighter moment before
the start of class. Yeungnam University, Fall 2014.

My Korean students today are the sons and daughters of those very spirited students I taught years ago. My two stints in Korea have become bookends on my life. Who says you can't go home again?

Overseas ESL Teacher: The Year of Living Extemporaneously

"All is clouded by desires."

                                    Passage from the Bhagavad Gita

I have long felt that living overseas might very well be perceived like a long-term visit to Disney World. Your entrance fee entitles you to see the world through a child's eyes. Every day, or in this case, every minute, puts your senses on steroids; the smells, sights and sounds spin you round and round until you are in a new and different reality. Surely, it's not for the faint-of-heart--that's why they checked your height at the ticket counter and asked if you had any health issues.

Once your ticket is punched, teaching English overseas can be the thrill of a lifetime. In this case, once the passport, visa, apostilled criminal check, application and interview stanchions have been successfully hurdled, you are free to open your classrooms to the world and to make your world your own personal classroom.

Set in Indonesia,
The Year of Living Dangerously

In her award winning role, in the 1982 film, The Year of Living Dangerously, Linda Hunt's character, a male Chinese-Australian dwarf, Billy Kwan, declares, "In the West, we want answers for everything. Everything is right or wrong or good or bad..." The challenge as the foreign teacher of English is to let go of judgment and allow oneself to enter a world of incredulity. As one of my professors in graduate school once told me offering up some personal wisdom, "Education is moving from cocksure ignorance, to thoughtful uncertainty."

In the bare bones utilitarian existence of an ESL teacher, one doesn't have the plethora of material possessions one has back home. Those things are, of course, distractions. My life's essentials have been whittled down to whiteboard markers, a memory stick, lesson plans, a backpack, a translation app and whatever map I'm wearing out from overuse. My university has me covered-although I harbor a certain skepticism about the thickness of the ice I'm skating on. They've provided my apartment, an office and computer, a living wage and plenty of vacation time. For all those ESL teachers without such accoutrements, I offer you a humble me-ahn-heyo (미안 해요), Korean for, I am sorry.

The time between classes is a golden chalice. I fill it with various wines, sometimes the vintage is a local destination, a delicious house wine, like a nearby Korean city with a history worth knowing more about and a reputation for a particular culinary speciality. For example, from here in Daegu, Jeonju (전주), with its rocking Korean Historic Village (한옥말) is a 3-hour bus ride away. Its local bib-em-pop, a mixed rice dish, is to die for. Other times, the cup is filled with a more complex taste, like a bike trip through rural Vietnam, or perhaps a rarer vintage, say a sojourn to North Korea--no doubt, not a taste suitable for everyone's palate.

That of course, is just the point. Some ESL teachers choose not to carry the travel baton so wide afield. Their adventures more often take place locally, including within their classrooms. There, they strive to transport their students to other worlds. But for me, any gift of time is a chance to boogie on down the road. Billy Kwan's words, while living dangerously in Indonesia, work for me, "Don't think about the major issues. Do what you can about what's in front of you. Go add your light to the sum of all light." So, I'll grab my passport, then it's off to the races.