I'm about to commit a serious faux pas, though I suppose sooner or later it was bound to happen.
I should be thankful, I suppose. Korea's English bound society, in which the optimistic may hope the language be used at least minimally as a lingua franca in the region, but which will perhaps more realistically continue to be used by entrepreneurs every time they set up shop labelling it UGLY Bar or Sea Cruiser Restaurant, has granted me a job with what in English teacher talk is known amongst the cynical as TENOR, teaching english for no obvious reason. My role as a teacher is a solid one, though I can, all too easily, in an instant, make it entirely superflous. It only takes a tiring afternoon and an all too warm odd situational classroom, such as the combination bank/post-office, to turn me into a dull, lifeless teacher. And as my co-teacher muttered under her breath to one of our students today I was merely a window-dresser - I think she meant window-dressing - and though I prefer not to think that she said that on account of the colour of my skin I'd have to agree that sometimes I am. I sometimes simply stare at her. There are things I don't understand. Some might list it as cultural misunderstanding. Why Matthew, you simply don't understand that there is a hierarchy upon which this society is built, and that hierarchy plays into all roles of life. Fine. I accept that, but there are basic human needs which sometimes, and perhaps more often than not, twist those rules to facilitate life.
Let me admit that I don't have much compassion for a co-teacher who when faced with a boy who has a learning disability and needs to go to the washroom forces him to ask in English. The whole situation smacks of imperialism. What can I do but plead for this boy to simply be let go for a minute but then be told that he must say it in English? It's an embarassing situation for both the boy and myself; I've been upended, if we are to stick to traditional hierarchical roles, by a teacher my junior.
Now, being on the outside has certain advantages. Not knowing the language allows you to barge into the bank at closing time and dumbly stare at a teller holding out foreign money until two other tellers open their own wallets and exchange your money into won. And negotiating a cell phone is merely a matter of being fluent in gesticulation and perhaps one or two words such as text and phone card. Slipping on the moving sidewalk and tumbling to the grating is a release from all the bowing and politeness that is like a fine sheen of wax between you and others. Pushing myself up before I reach the lower level of the supermarket is a brief jolt to the reality of life. Complaining, I did it for the first time today, to the teenager who weighs the hand of bananas when it already has a price on it and tries to charge me twice the discounted rate, feels good, and I begin to walk away after a slight pause when I hear him say, "I'm sorry. My mistake. Thanks for shopping at Lotte Mart".
