Fulbright Korea Infusion: Volume 7, Issue 2 by Fulbright Korea Infusion

INFUSION

THE FULBRIGHT KOREA

VOL 7, ISSUE 2

THE FULBRIGHT KOREA INFUSION

volume 7, issue 2

spring 2014

staff Clara Kang. Watercolor. May 2014 On April 16, 2014, the Sewol ferry capsized off the southwestern coast of Korea en route from Incheon to Jeju Island. 476 people were on board, including more than 300 students from Danwon High School in Ansan. Only 172 people were rescued. The yellow ribbon became a symbol of mourning for the victims, as well as a symbol of hope that the missing passengers would be found alive. As the nation mourns, the yellow ribbon can be seen everywhere from memorials to social media, alongside the messages “Pray for South Korea” and “하 나의 작은 움직임이 큰 기적을” — “One small movement, big miracles.”

PUBLISHING ADVISOR Jai Ok Shim

ASSISTANT DESIGN EDITOR Meredith Howard

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Katelyn Hemmeke

PHOTO EDITORS Andrew Cheng Neal Singleton

MANAGING EDITORS Kristen Bialik Jennifer Law DESIGN EDITOR Ashley Park

WEB MANAGER Rachel Lim MONITORS Teresa Baik Phung Nguyen

STAFF EDITORS Mimi Cagaitan Sarah Chen Connor Dearing Clara Kang John Karayannopoulos Hector Ramos-Flores Josephine Reece Jonathan Rice Christina Socci Sophia Zhang COVER PHOTO Gangneung. Eric Horvath. Gangneung

CONTENTS 01 LETTERS JAI OK SHIM & AMBASSADOR KIM

33 SEOUL OLYMPICS HELEN LI

02 FOREWORD KATELYN HEMMEKE

40 SPIT GABRIELLE NYGAARD

04 THE INCIDENT JASON GILMORE

42 ODE TO SUBURBAN KOREA JOSEPHINE REECE

08 SOCIAL MEDIA AND THE ETA IN KOREA JONATHAN RICE

44 “SUMMER” SOPHIA ZHANG

14 MUTING MY MOTHER TONGUE HANA LEE

49 4.3 MARISSA LYNN

20 SEOUL ON TWO WHEELS CONNOR DEARING

54 THE LOTUS FLOWER BLOOMS IN MUD GINGER WHITESELL

24 BARE-LY CULTURED CAMERON DEMETRE

59 MY KOREAN MUSICAL JENNA GIBSON

28 THE MIGRANTS’ ARIRANG ANDREW CHENG

63 HERE IN OHIO YOON-CHAN KIM

Graffiti Wedding. Sara Caudill. Kota Kina Balu, Sabah, Malaysia

Letter

Letter from the

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

Dear Readers,

The Fulbright Korea program, which sent two

from the

AMBASSADOR Dear Readers,

As Korea and the U.S. build upon 60 years

It is with great pleasure and pride that I pres-

Americans to Korea in 1961, now boasts a com-

Congratulations to Fulbright Korea on Vol-

of partnership and shared prosperity, I’d like to

ent Infusion magazine, Volume 7, Issue 2. As with

munity of over 5,000 active grantees and alumni,

ume 7, Issue 2 of Infusion magazine. The articles

acknowledge all of your hard work in making

every volume, this could not have happened with-

all of whom have influenced this country and

featured in this year’s publication demonstrate the

Fulbright Korea a true model of diplomacy. You

out the contributions of our esteemed grantees

commission. Accomplishments and meaningful

passion and commitment that has made Fulbright

should feel extremely proud to know that the lega-

and alumni. I would like to thank you all for the

exchange have come through educational, cultural

Korea the vibrant and active organization it is to-

cy you are creating now will be the source of even

time and effort you have put into working for the

and personal avenues. Regardless of our grantees’

day. Your energy, drive and desire to connect with

closer ties between our two countries for many

success of Infusion magazine this year.

methods or intentions, their legacies as Fulbright-

schools and communities across the country ex-

years to come.

ers can be found in the following photographs

tend beyond mere linguistic and cultural exchang-

and stories.

es to penetrate to the heart of the mutual respect

Over the years, I have seen Infusion grow in profound and exciting ways in both its content and influence. With each volume and issue, the magazine manages to more accurately and thor-

Sincerely,

and friendship that unite our two nations. Sincerely,

As just one example, this year the Fulbright

oughly reflect the diverse and unique aspects that

English Teaching Assistantship (ETA) program

comprise the Fulbright Korea experience. As a

includes 120 grantees, with 45 ETA grantees in-

Sung Kim

union of visual and literary excellence, Infusion

volved with the North Korean Defector Program

U.S. Ambassador to the Republic of Korea

magazine represents the exceptional array of ex-

Jai Ok Shim

in centers nationwide. The ETA program has also

periences, perspectives and lives that make Ful-

Executive Director

successfully created unique opportunities like the

bright Korea what it is.

Korean-American Educational Commission

Youth Diplomacy and Activism Conference that

For over 50 years, the Fulbright Korea network has been growing at an exceptional pace.

draws students from all over Korea to engage in diplomacy and community activism.

Foreword

Katelyn Hemmeke, Editor-in-Chief

A Seoul Cafe. Helen Li. Seoul homesickness, loneliness, struggles to adapt to a

finnicky host sibling, navigating hygiene standards

new culture and a new home.

or literally baring all in front of your students. But

As Jon Rice mentions in his piece about “mani-

the point is that we do not simply face these trials;

cured” lives, Fulbright director Mrs. Jai Ok Shim

we confront them. We acknowledge that we are not

tells us, “Don’t compare.” She advises us against

fine, and we seek solace in music, exercise, nature, religion or relationships.

“I’m fine, thank you, and you?”

It takes even more strength to take moments of

comparing our experiences, lest we feel jealous

Fulbright grantees have probably heard this

struggle and turn them into moments of growth

or short-changed. But “don’t compare” need not

My students may compulsively rattle off the

line more times than they care to count. When I

— to not only endure tough times, but to learn

equate to “don’t share” — we can still listen to each

line “I’m fine, thank you, and you?” but when I

ask my students “How are you?” more often than

from them.

other in challenging moments and offer support.

press them for different answers, they are wonder-

not they automatically chirp, “I’m fine, thank you,

For this year’s second issue of Infusion, we

Ginger Whitesell grapples with the grief of

fully frank: “Teacher, I am sad.” “Teacher, so much

and you?” It’s a simple answer to a simple ques-

sought to bring out the heart of our mission: high-

losing loved ones an ocean away. Hana Lee faces

stress, so tired.” Even in a foreign language, they

tion — one so ubiquitous that it even has its own

lighting the diverse experiences of Fulbright grant-

a daunting request that forces her to examine the

are not afraid to share their worries: “Teacher, I

song1 — and it is all too easy to drop that line and

ees. The Fulbright experience certainly includes

connection between racial identity and language.

have five tests next week. I went to sleep at 4 a.m.”

move on.

joyful moments with students and homestay fami-

Marissa Lynn discovers a dark history behind her

“Teacher, the Sewol accident — those students,

But what if you are not fine? What if you are

lies, moments of cultural exchange with colleagues

new home, where sunny beaches are haunted by

our same age.” They are not easy answers to say

stressed, grieving or simply unhappy? It takes cour-

and breakthroughs in academic research. But it

the past. Our experiences are trying. Even the

or hear, but they are honest. We hope you find the

age and honesty to admit that you are not fine.

also includes some things that aren’t so sparkly:

seemingly mundane moments of homestay life and

same honesty within these pages.

1. “Fine Thank You and You?” by Korean indie band 10cm

teaching can be taxing, whether it’s dealing with a

Please enjoy Volume 7, Issue 2 of Infusion.

THE

INCIDENT Jason Gilmore

or Korean that could settle him down when he

a prisoner on the way to the gallows. He looked

decided to pitch one of his screaming fits, noth-

back at Grandmother and then up at me.

It happened on Saturday, October 13, at 11:35 a.m.

the rest. “Sept. 1993 – First day of school ” was writ-

ing that could stop the jolt of annoyance I felt

“Hi?” he asked.

Looking back, there were signs. First, the red

ten on the back.

at breakfast when he pulled a drool-soaked hand

“Hi,” I answered.

from his mouth and reached into my cereal.

I lifted him onto my shoulders, where he

blush of 2-year-old Eun Hyeok’s cheeks as he

Turning it over, the first thing I saw was a

strained, followed by the deft shift of hand into

bright smile. Attached to that smile was a little girl

Day after day, I fought to endure the mael-

wound his hands through my hair and tugged this

diaper. Only then did a sudden, incontrovertible

with platinum hair, a checkered button-up shirt

strom of infantile chaos that raged around me.

way and that, trying to steer me. I felt a twinge of

sense of wrongness settle in my stomach. I turned

and khaki shorts that stopped just above a pair of

What can you do with a tiny person who cares

annoyance but played along, veering all over the

just in time to see a small, brown-clad finger reach

knobby knees.

nothing for the grown-up boundaries you stake

driveway making car noises and earning a storm

I followed the straight line of her arm to where

out? What do you do when the structured world

of giggles for my efforts.

The world stopped. I sat there too shocked to

she held a little boy’s hand in her own. There I was,

you build to cope with change comes crashing

When the nursery school bus finally pulled up,

understand what had happened. My gaze snapped

a grimy ball of pudge with a crop of untidy brown

down to the tune of high-pitched laughter that

I set Eun Hyeok down and watched him waddle

back and forth between the expectant look on my

hair, my smile more cheek than tooth. It was a deep

ends in giggles and hiccups?

toward the opening door. He clambered up inside

host brother’s face and the poo stain on my leg.

smile. A little brother smile: the kind filled with un-

out and smear something across my bare knee.

Then all at once time sped up and I flew to the bathroom and washed and washed, but no amount of soap would make me feel clean. I glared into the bathroom mirror. “This was not in my contract.”

abashed joy that this older person thought I was worth her time. Still looking at the picture, my eyes moved back to my big sister’s smile. I understood my own smile,

1. Hide breakable objects on shelves

Things I learned during my grant year (cont.): 4. Give Eun Hyeok cat: distract for 10-15 minutes 5. Give Eun Hyeok iPod: distract for 20-25 minutes 6. Sit down and play together: satisfy indefinitely

grin just for the camera?

Some weeks after The Poo Incident, I was on my way out the door when Grandmother called

Perhaps these questions seem trite, but they

my name. She came hobbling around the corner

2. He can still reach there – place them even higher

were important to me. The youngest in my family,

with Eun Hyeok in tow, then placed his tiny hand

3. All snacks brought into the house are Eun Hy-

I’d always thought I’d be a good older brother if

in mine and grumbled a command.

eok’s snacks

armed wave before his teacher shut the door and he was zoomed away. I stood there until the van turned out of sight, and only then realized that I was smiling.

but what about hers? Was she really that happy to drag her grubby little brother to school, or was her

Things I learned during my grant year:

the van and had time for one big smile and a stiff-

given the opportunity. However, at the ripe old age

“Go wait for the bus.”

of 23, I figured I wasn’t likely to get that chance.

I looked down at Eun Hyeok and stifled a

The summer before I came to Korea, I was

Two months later, little Eun Hyeok took my

grumble of my own. Taking his hand without

flipping through a stack of childhood pictures in

naïve dreams of older brotherhood and quashed

comment, I led him down the driveway, shoes

search of something to show my new host family.

them with one casual swipe of his poo-covered

crunching on gravel as we went.

I found one picture facing the opposite way from

hand. There was nothing I could say in English

Things I learned during my grant year (cont.): 7. After your worst day of teaching, he will like you anyway 8. Exasperation is what love looks like in an older brother 9. The best lessons aren’t cultural; they’re human

Jason Gilmore is a 2012-2014 ETA at Gongju University High School in Gongju, Chungcheongnam-do.

Eun Hyeok was surprisingly quiet, silent like

A Jeonju Snowfall. Helen Li. Jeonju

SOCIAL and the MEDIA ETA in KOREA:

A MANICURED LIFE Jonathan Rice

“Don’t compare.” Mrs. Jai Ok Shim, the di-

bies are, both boys and girls point toward online

and stressful his day had been. He presented a life

college in 2013; it was a time of constant self-mar-

rector of Fulbright Korea, left me and 79 other

computer and mobile phone games as a top inter-

on social media that was different from his reality.

keting. Unsure of whether I would have the op-

English Teaching Assistants (ETAs) with those

est. While I love Facebook, Twitter and Instagram,

For a while, I even joined in, posting pictures from

portunity to come to Korea, I spent many hours

parting words on the day we were headed to our

I was not used to the intense influence of social

weekend trips to Daejeon and Seoul as a way to

refining my resume, pitching myself in interviews

placement sites across the country. Whether on

media in Korea.

stay connected to my host family when traveling.

and writing cover letter after cover letter tout-

blogs, the omnipresent KakaoTalk Messenger1

One of the first things that my host father did

While it was fun, it sometimes felt strange when

ing my unique experience and abilities. Arriving

or in-person, she implored us to connect, but

to make me a part of my host family was grant me

they would interact with me more on BAND than

in Korea less than two months after graduation,

to avoid conversations about our homestay and

access to their BAND. A private social network,

in real life. I would post a picture and get many

my brain was still in marketing narrative mode.

school situations that would inevitably lead to

BAND allows my family to share the day’s best

comments from them, but then our dinner that

Combine my end-of-college job search with be-

comparisons. She reminded us that by not com-

moments with each other. Over fried chicken, he

same evening would be nearly silent.

ing surrounded by a pool of naturally competitive

paring our Fulbright grant year with others we

ecstatically showed me goofy pictures of the kids

In another case, one of my students showed

and driven individuals, and my propensity to sell

could avoid feeling jealous or left out; Mrs. Shim

on vacation at Haeundae Beach and of his corpo-

me an app that lets you completely redefine your

rather than share experiences increased further.

emphasized that each ETA experience is different

rate dinners. While I found the concept amusing

facial features after taking a selfie; a casual snap

In our discussion groups at the start of Fulbright

and that we should enjoy those variances.

and innovative, it also raised a disturbing premise.

on a phone transforms into an airbrushed mas-

orientation, I, along with other ETAs, would con-

Yet the tools for comparison are everywhere;

Even within my host family, my host parents and

terpiece for friends and family to see. What this

stantly reference my prior experiences in leader-

I am in a country that wholeheartedly embraces

siblings apply a filter to how they present them-

culture of social media creates is, to borrow from

ship, teaching and living abroad.

social media and smartphones. The kids that I

selves to each other — social media invades the

Walter Issacson’s “Steve Jobs,” a reality-distortion

My early blog posts and Facebook statuses

teach have newer and nicer mobile devices than

closest bonds of all. One day, my host mother

field. We use social media to present the version

from Korea read more like press releases than

the teachers do. When I ride the subway in Seoul,

and father went on a trip to a park, during which

of ourselves we want others and ourselves to per-

personal moments. One weekend, after failing the

there are often few sounds beyond the screech-

they sent some beautiful photos of the two of

ceive. Life becomes manicured moments woven

second Korean language quiz, I broke down after

ing of the train and the constant pings of mobile

them smiling in front of a lake to BAND. How-

together into a perfectly arched narrative of suc-

spending about eight hours writing out hangeul

devices. Everyone, from small children to elderly

ever, when I asked my host father how the day

cesses and failures.

characters. When blogging about the experience

men and women, is on their smartphone. When

went, he displayed mixed feelings, giving a look

My reality-distortion field ramped up in the

I ask my middle school students what their hob-

of concern and a sigh as he explained how busy

months leading up toward my graduation from

1. A popular text-messaging service in Korea

though, that highly emotional and stressful time turned into a throwaway line: “Repetition, rep-

“

As wonderful as highlights and lowlights can be, the more mundane and real struggles matter. I owe it to my family, friends, colleagues and the public to share my truth.

”

etition, repetition. Korean language. Lesson plan-

the forefront over daily realities and more mun-

taken some time, but in learning to not compare

cleaned-up version of my life. Sometimes, I in-

ning. Teaching.” I did not want to expose my vul-

dane examples.

within Korea’s social culture, I have also realized

dulge — an Instagram of the hand-written note

that emotional expression should come at the

from a student. However, when a week goes by

forefront of storytelling.

and every class just feels subpar, that is a mo-

nerability or true struggle.

My failures are defined not by epic tragedies,

I saw this masking of reality manifest in other

but by feelings. There are days when I wonder if

ETAs as well. From blog posts about receiving

my students left the class with more knowledge or

Mrs. Shim tells new ETAs, “Don’t compare.”

ment to turn toward social media too. Instead

a love letter from a student to Facebook status-

less. Often a day feels long after slogging through

While that advice refers to habits of media con-

of looking to present myself positively, sharing

es about traversing Korea with a host family for

four unruly and unmotivated classes, but the week

sumption, as storytellers, we also need to ask

that slightly unfavorable experience leads to ad-

Chuseok, most stories ETAs present are about

goes by quickly in a cycle of repetition as I pres-

ourselves: who is the audience that each of us is

vice and fellowship from others. Sometimes, it’s

entertaining. That is logical, too — no one wants

ent the same perhaps-flawed lesson 20 times over.

trying to reach with all of this content? For me,

important to be honest and share that I couldn’t

to broadcast something boring. The reality-distor-

There is the internal burst of anger when a class

it is my family, friends and potential employers

control my class or that my host family seemed

tion field extends to all, even our closest friends.

of first graders I haven’t seen in four weeks is

back home. I want to convey my accomplish-

to be avoiding me. I lift the reality-distortion

For the general audience of people who consume

cancelled and the only thing I can do is indirectly

ments, successes and newfound cultural experi-

field for a moment and, instead of a comparison

my content, for those who don’t have the chance

lobby my co-teacher that “maybe” I can “possibly”

ences. As wonderful as highlights and lowlights

or a perfect story, we have an exchange of ideas

to have a long phone conversation or in-person

teach them soon. Sometimes, it is a feeling that,

can be, the more mundane and real struggles mat-

— a conversation.

chat with me at the end of a stressful day, life takes

even surrounded by friendly faces and warm hearts

ter. I owe it to my family, friends, colleagues and

on an alternate reality. Like television, my life is

around a dinner table in Seoul, I am very alone.

the public to share my truth. Life in Korea isn’t

then seemingly only made of my biggest break-

One positive of our new social culture is that it

perfect. My homestay and school are often won-

through moments or grandest failures. For ETAs

pressures everyone to write about themselves of-

derful, but also at times frustrating and upsetting.

in Korea, that can sometimes mean a Facebook

ten, whether through a 2,000-word blog post or a

As someone trying to navigate both Korea’s

news feed filled with endless comments about

140-character tweet. In that same vein, the call to

social media culture and my interactions with

amazing co-teachers, superb students and perfect

tell stories is also one for authenticity. After read-

the greater Fulbright community, I have found

host families, or, conversely, hellish examples of

ing and writing many vaguely positive or negative

the key to avoiding the comparison issue and

being unsupported by the system and outright

stories, I realized that a textured life can be just

remaining true to the experience comes from

avoided by students. Entertaining story arcs take

as, if not more, insightful as a manicured one. It’s

balance. Inevitably, I am tempted to present a

Jonathan Rice is a 2013-2014 ETA at Gakri Middle School in Ochang, Chungcheongbuk-do.

Chasing the Light. Neal Singleton. Busan Blue Dragon. Neal Singleton. Yesan

Hallabong Farm. Neal Singleton. Jeju The Palace. Eric Horvath. Seoul

MUTING MY MOTHER TONGUE Hana Lee “그동안 쌤한테 궁금하거나 물어보고 싶 었던 것 있니1?” I asked in perfect Korean. A chorus of “daebak” and “menboong 2” filled the air. The students incredulously asked, “So, you understood what we were saying all along?”

longing and, as a result, I resented my parents for

previous visits to Korea that Korean-Americans

mized their minimal knowledge of English, kid-

immigrating to America and settling down in an

were often stereotyped visitors who received both

ding around with me by saying, “I love you…

area where we stood out like sore thumbs. Until

undeserved respect and unwarranted contempt.

Joke!” or offering me and my friends cigarettes

I had the opportunity to converse with my new

Settling down in Korea would be different from

when we caught them smoking nearby the school.

Fulbright friends about performing race and mi-

briefly visiting, I told myself; yet, I still vastly un-

In the beginning, because they saw a teacher

croaggressions, I could never quite understand

derestimated the challenges I would encounter.

who looked Korean, my students did not make an

“Yes, I did.” I gave a knowing chuckle while

nor explain the reason why I had felt so out of

When I got to my placement at a technical

effort to learn or use English. I realized that my

eyeing the students that had given me the most

place despite the kindness and friendliness of my

high school in Naju, my co-teacher asked me not

students would only use English with me if they

trouble all year.

childhood friends.

to disclose that I could read, write, speak or under-

truly believed I was not Korean in any way. They

Myung Jin, one of my angels, just kept staring

I remember actively working to remove myself

stand Korean. He wanted me to present myself to

could not fully grasp the concept of a Korean-

in disbelief, muttering, “Really, menboong. So every

from the confines of the model minority stereo-

the students as “wholly American,” something I

American. To them, I had to be either one or the

time… I just made a fool of myself using body

type. I hid my good grades and only showed my

have never been, even in America.

other; I couldn’t be both. I spent the entirety of

language… menboong.”

friends the lower grades I got on my assignments

After meeting my students, I understood my

the first semester convincing my students that

I laughed as I let the news sink in to the first

in elementary school. Over time, I successfully

co-teacher’s request better. Many of them showed

I was legitimately and fully American and not a

of many classes in which I’d reveal my big secret.

separated myself from being seen as the stereo-

a minimal grasp of basic academic subjects, even

“real” Korean, though I am undeniably as Korean

Another student, shyly looking down at his

typical Asian, for better or worse. However, I was

math and Korean, and had already given up on

as I am American. In efforts to downplay my Ko-

desk, quietly gave me the first apology of the few

still Asian, still Korean, in many ways. I had grown

themselves and their situations. At times they

rean side further, I forced an audible accent on the

I would receive. “I’m sorry…”

to love and accept my Korean-ness over the years,

seemed like hopeless cases in the education-driv-

rare occasion I spoke my normally perfect Korean

and I even proudly shared some of the food and

en Korean system. Some of them would get into

and even actively butchered students’ names.

language with my friends. The Fulbright grant was

fights because they felt the need to challenge and

The staff knew of my fluency because the

an opportunity to reconcile my complicated iden-

disregard authority through open hostility. But

principal had announced it on my first day, but

tity as a Korean-American.

even though they were simply not cut out for a

I did my best to honor my co-teacher’s request in

This exchange was all in Korean, a language I had spoken since childhood. Until high school, my sister, two cousins and I were the only four Koreans in my school dis-

I wasn’t so naïve as to think that I would be

typical classroom setting and couldn’t make com-

the presence of students. Because I spent most

trict in rural Pennsylvania. I lacked a sense of be-

fully accepted as a “Korean Korean.” I knew from

plex sentences, my students innovatively maxi-

of my time in the main gyomushil 3 where students

1. “So, do you have any questions for me?” 2. “Amazing” and “mind blown” in Korean

3. Teachers’ office

“

As valuable as a second language can be, I wanted my students to be proud and knowledgeable of Korean first and foremost. But I couldn’t expect my students to own and take pride in their heritage while I was struggling to find the delicate balance between the two cultures myself.

always bustled about, I often had to pretend that

among my students.

”

I couldn’t understand the other teachers when

Through my budding relationships with my

they approached me first. Whenever they spoke

co-workers, I gained a sense of peace with my Ko-

to me in Korean, I just looked intently at them

rean-American identity and my place in the school

as I smiled and nodded with a confused look on

community; however, my self-identity as a teacher

my face, trying to convey my understanding. They

was still being challenged. I was plagued by guilt at

would just awkwardly laugh and back away, un-

the idea that I was somehow promoting American

aware that I had been asked to feign ignorance.

language, media and culture in a supremacist way

This deception made me feel isolated, fake and

because I was portraying myself as someone who

undeservedly incompetent, and I lost many op-

didn’t feel the need to learn or understand Korean

portunities to develop relationships with my co-

language or culture. As valuable as a second lan-

workers during my first semester.

guage can be, I wanted my students to be proud and

I eventually found a safe space, the female

knowledgeable of Korean first and foremost. But I

teachers’ lounge, to speak Korean with the female

couldn’t expect my students to own and take pride

teachers and establish relationships with them

in their heritage while I was struggling to find the

during our second semester. Until this point, I had

delicate balance between the two cultures myself.

felt so alone in this quest to convince my students

Maybe even worse, because I presented myself

of my American identity; some of the teachers,

as someone who couldn’t even attempt to learn

remembering the principal’s initial announcement,

the language of the country in which I lived, I be-

would honestly tell their students that I was fluent

came a bad role model for my students. Some of

in Korean without realizing that I was working so

the students would wonder aloud why it was that

hard to convince my students otherwise. I recruit-

I couldn’t speak any Korean though I was living

ed the female teachers onto my side and, though I

in Korea. At some level, this underlying sense of

only spoke Korean with them, they helped cover

“she’s not trying, so why should we?” manifested

for me and squelched any rumors or skepticism

in their attitudes toward learning.

The first semester they would say inappro-

During my final week of teaching, I conducted all

priate and hurtful comments not only to test my

of my classes only in Korean, and I felt connec-

Korean abilities, but also to get a rise out of me

tions strengthen in those one-hour classes in ways

and observe my reaction. They never misbehaved

I couldn’t through the whole past year despite my

when the co-teacher was present, but as soon as I

best efforts — a bittersweet end to a rough year.

was left alone, the students would begin to stare

Though I struggled through my year, all of

me down, sing at the top of their lungs and taunt

these challenges taught me that there is nothing

me. I was so overwhelmed by the end of the class

I can’t overcome with time, experience and effort.

that I could never remember what had actually

My students reminded me every day that there is

happened. Everything was a blur, and I left class

more to people than what meets the eye, and in-

with a bad taste in my mouth.

fluenced me to try to think things through from

The school had little to no expectations for its

their perspective before growing impatient or

students, which made it difficult to create an en-

making judgments. I hope to remember and ap-

vironment of excellence and respect in my own

ply these lessons as I return to Fulbright Korea

classroom. With time, I learned to take things less

this year for three more months at an academi-

personally, ignore their disruptive outbursts and

cally rigorous high school. I’ve come back to give

make the best of whatever they offered me that

myself a second shot: another chance to redeem

day. Eventually, these incidents slowly decreased,

my identity as a teacher and to own my identity as

and I chose to change my main objective from

a Korean-American.

teaching my students English to simply showing them that I cared. In retrospect, I should have just used Korean freely as a tool to relate to my students. At the

Hana Lee is a 2012-2014 ETA at Namsan High School in Busan.

time, I was too worried about what the school would think and how my co-teachers would react.

Raised Hands. Andrew Cheng. Pyeongyang, North Korea

SEOUL on

TWO WHEELS Connor Dearing

Before arriving in Korea, I knew the country,

at 10 p.m. packed with sleeping, uniformed high

to be common amongst my Korean peers. Copious

neck warmer, and blinking front and back lights.

and Seoul specifically, were known to have a 빨리

schoolers finally on their way home; assisting my

amounts of soju? Not worth the piercing headache

With these gifts from my host family and schools,

빨리1 proclivity. But I didn’t expect it to be so liter-

contracted co-teachers with administrative work

and Sundays glued to bed. Noraebang singing rooms?

I’m prepared to blend into the crowd. But I’m no

al. From the early morning when I leave to my late

into the early evening. However, one night I came

You can only sing “Africa4” with tone-deaf friends so

match for the Koreans with whom I’m sharing

evening return, I am surrounded by people moving

home to my 12-year-old host brother’s tears, the

many times. PC bangs? No, I don’t think smoky, dark,

the road, who take biking, like all of their other

at a rapid pace — up and down, inside and out,

first I’d witnessed first-hand in the country. Dev-

dimly-lit rooms filled with screens of creatures fight-

hobbies, seriously. I am routinely passed by groups

their motivations always obscure.

astated by his mother’s reaction to his average test

ing to the death would help calm me down.

of men in matching uniforms, on high-tech ac-

I understand the speed. With such fortitude,

score, comparing himself obsessively to his older

So, upon moving to Seoul, I took a differ-

cessorized bikes who ride with such speed and

drive and tireless work ethic, it is no wonder that

brother — the carefree, awkward and curious Yoo

ent approach. I rode my bike right into the city’s

effortless ease I want to believe the bike is riding

Koreans raised their country from sheer poverty to

Jun that I had come to love was unrecognizable. I

GDP-pumping heart, the Han River, joining hun-

for them. There are also the older ajusshis5 who’ve

being the 15th strongest GDP in the world. How-

wanted him to see his strengths, to enjoy his youth

dreds, sometimes thousands, of others biking in

found a way to trick out their antiquated rides with

ever, those very qualities that created the “Miracle

and figure things out for himself via trial and error,

two-wheeled synchronization. The Han is Seoul’s

green and blue strobe lights and speakers blasting

on the Han” are also what make being a citizen in

but it was an idealistic response, and I held back.

mouth — a tiny opening where its residents can

trot music6.

the South Korea of today a difficult and tiring ex-

Lying on our bunkbed, it was silent but for his

breathe. But can they ever really let go?

perience, where work, competition, pressure and

crying and the turning pages of his science book.

From my apartment in densely-packed Bangh-

much like the rest of Korea, sights seem to repeat

worry never seem to end.

He recovered quickly, eating dinner at his academy

wa-dong, a commuter neighborhood in far south-

themselves until they become a comfortable, if

In my first year in Korea living with a host fami-

from then on and arriving home at 10 p.m. But I

west Seoul, I’m on my bike traversing dust, con-

frustrating, familiarity. The 7-11s pouring out wa-

ly in Gwangju, a major city in Jeollanam-do, initially

could no longer separate myself from the stress

struction and speed bumps — symbols of growth,

tery Cass beer and instant ramyeon, the overpriced

it was easy to separate myself from the competition

and demands of the people around me. I felt I had

change and ambition. Minutes later I’m through

and underwhelming chain coffee shops, the chae-

that affects Koreans, with my relatively short work-

to keep pace. I buried myself in elementary Korean

a tunnel and on the Han River trail, which begins

bol7-owned, characterless apartment cluster views.

ing hours and stress-free but incredibly rewarding

textbooks until the early morning and redid lesson

with an ecological preserve, a nice moment of

As I near Yeouido Park, my ride transforms

teaching experiences. As a foreigner, I had my own

plans again and again, yet never felt fulfilled after

calm. However, with bikers coming at me on both

into a game of Temple Run as I navigate through

set of problems — loneliness, language ineptitude

their execution.

sides, I don’t dare stop and admire.

Seoul’s most popular stretch of riverside. Couples

The ride across the city goes on and on, and

and a lack of cheese among them. Slowly, I got

It was unhealthy assimilation, and I needed to

I am dressed Korean head to toe, with match-

in matching t-shirts attempt selfie camera shots

more and more immersed in Korean life — distin-

find ways to unwind. I used trial and (mostly) er-

ing neon green and black aerodynamic spandex

while riding their tandem yellow bikes. Teenagers

guishing my 친구2 from my 형3; taking the subway

ror to sort through the stress relievers that seemed

and training shirt, a flamboyant pink and purple

cruise through on plastic, tiny penny boards. Every-

1. Literally, “quickly quickly;” it refers to moving fast and getting work done in a short amount of time. 2. Friend, one born the same year as the speaker 3. Older brother, used by a male speaker to refer to someone at least one year older than himself

4. A song by American rock band Toto 5. Middle-aged men 6. Named after the two-beat “foxtrot,” trot is the earliest form of Korean pop music. 7. A large corporation

“

I’m still not sure of my destination, but like my students, co-workers and millions of others sharing this confined cityscape, I feel driven.

”

one stops abruptly at the sight of wildflowers. It’s

I get up. I’m back on my bike. By this point

an art to maintain a strong riding pace amidst all

my fellow riders have diminished, my calves feel

the commotion, and soon enough I crash into a

fluid and my rhythm and speed are exact. I’m still

middle schooler. Luckily he gets up and moves on

not sure of my destination, but like my students,

unscathed; I lie on the ground with a bloody chin

co-workers and millions of others sharing this con-

and a broken cellphone.

fined cityscape, I feel driven. With each rotation of

Is this letting go?

my wheels, I feel a sense of urgency and renewal.

I look up. The sunset isn’t striking. The colors

I have a wound to patch up, English to teach, re-

are subdued, creating a noirish orange-brown sky.

lationships to strengthen. I’m not worried. I’m not

Building lights replace stars. As more and more peo-

relaxed. I’m going.

ple come home from work, my thoughts easily shift

Around 10 p.m., there is still one last rider speed-

toward the different lives unfolding, the different

ing past me: a fully-suited, briefcase-carrying com-

stories being told. The mother reading book after

pany man. Head tilted back, eyes closed, hands free.

book to her captivated daughter over a bowl of frozen persimmons. The grandfather, after decades of poverty and manual labor, settling down to watch a blockbuster on his 3D Samsung TV. A brother and

Connor Dearing is a 2012-2014 ETA at Deokwon Girls’ High School in Seoul.

a sister, finding out their mother’s health condition, vowing never to abandon each other. There is pain, burden, pressure, learning and family.

Flatland. Andrew Cheng. Pyeongyang, North Korea

BARE-LY CULTURED Cameron Demetre

It all began when Bub Hae, in his Ssangyong High School Stunners uniform, said to me, “Teacher, we need to show you Korean culture.”

stood, in all my genetic wonder. Nakedly we made our way to the pool baths, which looked just like the ancient Roman bath-

I wish I could say that I jumped at the oppor-

houses whose sanitation I had questioned since

tunity, that I am always ready to embrace such in-

high school history class. Unaware of my inner

vitations, but on this particular evening, I simply

turmoil, the boys displayed no such reluctance.

was not feeling it. I was tired. I had just enjoyed

They loved the fact that their teacher was with

two full days of baseball and was riding the high

them, and they were prone to saying such things

High School. On top of his remarkable stature,

As much as I want to erase some of the mental

of an emotional championship win; however, at

as, “Teacher, we know your secret.”

he is also the second best Judo fighter in the +100

images that developed from that night, I will never

Ssangyong Stunners Celebrating a Tournament Win. Cameron Demetre. Cheonan

that point, all I could think about was getting away

I will leave that up to interpretation because

kilogram weight class in all of the secondary

forget my jjimjilbang experience with the baseball

from the 15- to 18-year-old demographic for a few

frankly, I still do not entirely know what they meant.

students in South Korea. I repeat, he is big and

team, from the awkward dropping of my gar-

precious hours. Alas, with Bub Hae’s direct words,

I could feel the weight of all their eyes bear-

strong. I could not have been more fully aware of

ments to the overwhelming joy of knowing that

ing down on me as I — secrets and all — slowly

that heart-pulsing fact as he positioned himself

my body parts would remain at a healthy prox-

So, exactly what aspect of Korean culture had I

plunged into the first pool of water. After dab-

in front of my soaking-wet, vulnerable frame. I

imity from their body parts. It was an unplanned

yet to encounter? This night, Korean culture meant

bling in the warm water, we headed to the next

panicked. I quickly suggested that we play the arm

cultural exchange — one neither spent in a classy

joining Bub Hae and the boys for some quality

pool, which was markedly cooler. Culturally, I

wrestling game “Mercy” to avoid as much bodily

suit, nor made possible by weeks of intensive

time at the local jjimjilbang, or public bathhouse.

don’t know if I had any choice in the matter, but I

contact as possible. Thankfully, Bub Hae accept-

language learning classes, but rather one that oc-

should not have followed them there.

ed, and we began what would become the most

curred in a “stripped down” fashion. A fashion

important game of “Mercy” of my life.

that would come back to me the very next week,

my comfort bubble was about to be invaded.

As I entered the outdated jjimjilbang facility, I was unsure of what to expect, though I had heard

It was an ambush of sorts. The boys began to

rumors of places where the eyes of a thousand

roughhouse with each other, and it soon turned

As our fingers engaged, I mustered every

when Bub Hae welcomed me on the way to school

Korean men peel to naked foreign bodies. Rumors

into a full-on wrestling brawl. As the fight ensued,

ounce of strength I had to twist my student’s arms

with a leering grin on his face saying, “Teacher, I

soon ceded to reality as I was given my very own

I saw things that a teacher should never have to

back. If need be, I was willing to break my own

know your secret.”

jjimjilbang uniform of very well-worn, but thank-

see, and I immediately averted my eyes from all of

wrists so my dignity could remain intact. By some

fully well-washed, t-shirt and shorts. We made our

the nakedness, trying to mitigate the awkwardness

oddity, I won. It was a moment that rivaled the

way to the locker room where I paused, wonder-

of the whole ordeal. Just as my mind churned out

1980 U.S. hockey team’s “Miracle on Ice” — at

ing if I would have to do what I knew I had to

a coherent excuse, Bub Hae invited me to wrestle

least, for me it was. We shared some laughs and

do: disrobe in front of my students. I tentatively

with him.

carried on toward another pool, but not before

pulled one article of clothing off after the other

Now let me preface something about Bub

until there was nothing left to remove. There I

Hae. Bub Hae is the Hulk Hogan of Ssangyong

Cameron Demetre is a 2013-2014 ETA at Ssangyong High School in Cheonan.

Bub Hae said in his simple English, “Teacher, this is Korean culture.”

Up at Dawn. Neal Singleton. Bagan, Myanmar

the

MIGRANTS’

ARIRANG Andrew Cheng

munities almost seamlessly into the seemingly solidcolor fabric of Korean society.

left out of the conversation: immigrants. I had never truly noticed the presence of mi-

One cloudy fall afternoon, my friends and I

food stalls for tasty things to eat. Vietnam was sell-

From ancient times until the opening of its bor-

grant workers in Changwon because they are mostly

went downtown to visit the Changwon Migrants’

ing pho, Indonesia offered sate ayam and Russia had a

ders in the early 90s, the so-called Hermit Kingdom

employed in industry, such as in one of the city’s

Arirang Multicultural Festival, the largest of its kind

barbecue grill billowing enormous clouds of smoke

was notorious for its isolation, and its correlated

hundreds of factories in a different part of town.

in South Korea. We had heard that the variety of

in every direction. For lunch, I got menudo and

pride in its homogeneity has always been strong.

But they are here. They make just enough money to

delicious and authentic ethnic foods there would be

turon from the Philippines and sneaked bites of my

This has helped it retain much of its cultural heri-

live comfortably and send the rest home. Due to the

staggering. Even more astounding, though, was the

friends’ pad thai and tandoori chicken. A truly global

tage, but it also means that its adolescent relation-

nature of their work, they tend not to stay in their

diversity of its participants.

culinary experience.

ship with outsiders who have come inside has been

host country permanently. Does that sound familiar?

awkward at best and strained at worst. Just who are

Now here I was at a party that my city threw for

The park was bustling with people of all colors

Sitting down to my feast, however, I suddenly

and sizes, from large Mongolian men demonstrating

felt that something was amiss. I scanned the food

traditional wrestling to Bangladeshi women cooking

stalls for the flag of Taiwan, but to no avail. De-

I think that up until now, my admittedly nar-

vague kinship with them and an odd estrangement.

up a storm. In one corner of the park, a Nepalese

spite the festival’s multicultural moniker, the sights

row-minded idea of the waygookin in Korea was of

I learned that some families have actually lived in

man decked out in hip-hop attire was rapping to

and smells that I craved from my mother country

the Western Anglophone Expat: an independent

Changwon for 10 years or longer. Their children

a captive audience. In another, Pakistani exchange

— oyster omelettes, stinky tofu, pineapple cakes —

twenty-something from Canada, South Africa, the

have grown up here. In this way, they reminded

students were blasting music and dancing to the

were nowhere to be found. It seemed odd to me that

U.K., Australia, New Zealand or the U.S., most likely

me strongly of the permanent immigrant enclaves

amusement of the Koreans wandering by. Groups

Taiwan wouldn’t participate in a festival where even

white, here for a brief teaching stint before moving

in California where I was raised — only their ad-

of white foreigners were dispersed all throughout,

countries that I never think about (such as Sri Lanka,

home or on to the next Asian country. Of course,

opted country is Korea, not the United States. Like

like powdered sugar dusting a red bean pancake.

Uzbekistan and Nepal) were doing brisk business.

over time I’ve met missionaries, foreign exchange

my family, they have toiled for years with the odds

As I munched a fried banana, I looked around

students and engineers from all over the world who

stacked against them for the sake of a more pros-

This shouldn’t have surprised me. Since South

again, and then it dawned on me: this was the Mi-

have expanded my understanding of what the dic-

perous future in a land they don’t call home. And

Korea’s meteoric rise to economic success in the

grants’ Arirang Festival, and the countries being cel-

tionary defines as “someone who is banished or

like my family, they continue to be perceived as for-

late 20th century, people from many other countries

ebrated here were those of migrant workers. Taiwan

purposely withdraws from their native country to

eign. Waygookin. People of a different color and a

in Asia have arrived to seek their fortunes here. But

didn’t get a booth because there are no Taiwanese

live somewhere else.” In expat circles today, the

different culture that need to be put under the spot-

their actual numbers were never more apparent than

migrant workers. There were also no booths repre-

negative or political connotation is played down in

light once a year under the guise of multicultural-

on the day I went to this collective cultural festival. I

senting the United States or any Western countries,

favor of identification with a somewhat exclusive

ism. “Where,” they are asked, “are you really from?

had never seen more non-East Asians assembled in

for that matter. All of the festival participants were

club. But we English teachers are obviously not the

Why don’t you show us?”

one place before.

people who had come from South, Southeast and

only expats in this country; indeed, to a Korean,

Clearly, I cannot answer for them, and to be

Central Asia, threading pockets of immigrant com-

“waygookin” includes a group we have categorically

honest, I already run into trouble with this question

Everywhere I turned, I heard a different language.

My favorite part, of course, was browsing the

these so-called “waygookin ”? 1

1. Korean word for foreigner, literally “outside country person”

its immigrant communities, simultaneously feeling a

myself. Let’s not pretend there aren’t Koreans who

folk song that epitomizes the ethos of the Hermit

genuinely believe all Americans are white. I’ve told

Kingdom. For a celebration of immigrant com-

many a curious Korean, “Yes, I actually am Ameri-

munities to be pegged with this title insinuates, I

can, but my parents are from Taipei.” Thirty years

believe, that foreigners may aspire to have their

ago, they began the long struggle toward socioeco-

melodies subsumed into the main theme.

nomic stability in the United States and, through

When I sat down to lunch that day, I was hold-

hard work, a bit of luck and a fierce dedication to

ing a mosaic, the foods on my plate classified neatly

their education, they achieved it. It is due to their

by their country of origin. But when it comes to

success that I can be where I am today: an Ameri-

the ability of food to bring people and cultures to-

can expat in Korea. I fit in with the Western Anglo-

gether, festivals like the Migrants’ Arirang seem to

phones, valued for my contributions to education; I

demonstrate more of a melting pot effect at work

am not the kind of foreigner my appearance would

in South Korea. Here, dozens of different minor-

seem to betray. So I don’t get a booth.

ity groups are kneaded into one ball. Here, the im-

How strange would it be, I wonder, if I did run

migrants and the expats are all called waygookin (al-

into a poor Taiwanese enclave somewhere in the

though it’s clear which bites of the stew are more

world and found myself staring straight into the

favored). Here, the identity and pride I have as both

face of my American privilege? What if I met a

Taiwanese and American are rendered as murky as

community of Taiwanese emigrants who were liv-

egg drop soup. While Korea’s prosperity and diver-

ing virtually unrecognized in a society that acknowl-

sity are both bound to increase, it remains to be

edged them once a year with a festival that celebrat-

seen how cultural assimilation will stir its stone pot

ed but also completely Othered them? I couldn’t

of hegemony.

say for sure which emotion would win out: delight, embarrassment, curiosity or inexplicable shame. Not that this matters. I may call myself American, or Taiwanese-American, or an expat, or a

Andrew Cheng is a 2012-2014 high school ETA in

Identity. Andrew Cheng. Changwon

Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do.

foodie, but when all is said and done, I am just a waygookin, like all my fellow English teachers, like all these dark-skinned migrant workers. We are not Korean, not part of 우리, the culture of “us.” It is worth noting that “Arirang” refers to the ancient

THE SEOUL

OLYMPICS: A STUDY IN DIFFERENCE Helen Li

Namsan Tower. Neal Singleton. Seoul

Each Olympic Games has had its own flavor, its own

and rebuilding in the world’s largest cities; in addi-

character and its own goals that ride the undercurrent of

tion, the international attention could generate fu-

Olympic idealism. These contrasts make each Olympiad

ture tourism, one of the fastest-growing elements

unique, as both internal and external forces come into play.

of the world economy2.

South Korea hosted the 1988 Olympic Games in its capi-

If, however, one turns to the Seoul Olym-

tal city Seoul. The 16-day mega-event marked a turning

pics, a different narrative emerges. As Professors

point in the nation’s international standing. The following

John and Margaret Gold state, “Seoul’s decision

study investigates the major differences between the Seoul

to seek the 1988 Games was less inspired by the

Games and other Olympics, the difficulties faced by the

thoughts of financial benefit — which had yet to

planning committee and South Korea’s strategies for hosting

re-emerge when the city gained the nomination in

a successful Olympics.

1981 — than by the success of Tokyo 1964, which the Koreans believed had altered perceptions of

Since the 1960 Games in Rome, host countries

the Japanese and helped Japan join the ranks of

have come to see the Olympics as potential invest-

the developed world in the cultural, social, diplo-

ment opportunities. With the advent of interna-

matic and economic fields3.” Though South Korea

tional broadcasts, increased international tour-

achieved great infrastructural growth through the

ism and commercialization, hosting the Olympic

Olympic Games, the Seoul Olympics were mainly

Games could lead to new financial advantages in

a “coming-out” party for the country. As a coun-

the world market. In 1984, Los Angeles made an

try little known or understood beyond its wartime

unprecedented $225 million profit, demonstrating

activities, South Korea could use the Olympics as

the vast economic potential of hosting the Olym-

a vehicle of demystifying the country and elevat-

pic Games . Even without a profit, hosting the

ing its standing in the international community, as

Olympics could provide much-needed building

well as increasing its prestige and strength both

Seoul Olympus. Rachel Lim. Inwangsan, Seoul

1. Gold, John R. and Margaret R. Gold. “From A to B: The Summer Olympics, 1896-2008.” Olympics Cities: City Agendas, Planning, and the World’s Games, 1896-2016. Ed. John Gold and Margaret Gold. London: Routledge, 2011. 43. 2. Heying, Charles H., Matthew J. Burbank and Greg Andranovich. “World Class: Using the Olympics to Shape and Brand the American Metropolis.” Tourism, Culture, and Regeneration. Ed. Melanie K. Smith. Cambridge, MA: CAB International, 2006. 102. 3. Gold and Gold, 43.

inside and outside the country.

rated as the president of South Korea, beginning

also lay the discourse of East Asia’s “unusual” and

ed States, one driven by tradition and stagnancy

No clear path lay between the Seoul Olympics

a regime marked by oppression. Protests flared up

“exotic” spirit, countries still steeped in centuries-

rather than by modernity and progress.

and its international aspirations. Three primary

in 1987, as the nation readied itself for interna-

old traditions and out of touch with the modern

Yet, these narratives of South Korea did not

difficulties confronted the Games, each of which

tional visitors. For the Seoul Olympic Organizing

world. For example, National Geographic published

fit with the economic realities of the time. South

required different counter techniques on the part

Committee, these political realities would need to

an article on South Korea in August 1988 in order

Korea in the 1980s was experiencing a period of

of the Planning Committee: political tensions,

be circumvented to avoid an Olympic legacy simi-

to provide an illustration of the country before

extraordinary growth. In 1975, the country’s GNP

Orientalism and the Tourist Gaze.

lar to that of Mexico City 1968, where the event

the Games. To write this article, journalist Cathy

was 44.3 billion U.S. dollars. By 1980, it had risen

During South Korea’s initial bid for the Olym-

was marred by the Tlatelolco Massacre of regime

Newman traveled to a remote village in Gyeongju.

over 40% to 63.1 billion and in 1983, 77.4 billion

pics and throughout the preparation years, South

protesters. Indeed, the political demonstrations in

Through her commentary, one gathers the sense

dollars. At the same time, per capita income rose

Korea faced political strains on many fronts.

1987 and the possibility of jeopardizing the 1988

that South Korea was a country unchanged for

from $1,207 in 1975 to $1,586 in 1980, and finally

Following the Korean War, South Korea went

Games led to the peaceful June 20 declaration

thousands of years. She speaks to an elderly tradi-

to $1,870 in 1983. Korean exports, valued at 55

through a series of brutal regime changes, none

which put Chun Doo Hwan out of power.

tional artist and reports his words: “‘American line

million dollars in 1962, increased to 24 billion by

particularly democratic. In 1979, shortly after the

In addition to these political issues, South

is sharp, unyielding: the Washington Monument,

19838. South Korea was fast becoming one of the

decision to bid for the 1988 Olympics, President

Korea faced the discourse of “exotic weakness.”

the tail fins of a car.’ He sliced the air with a chop-

world’s most important new economies, as well as

Park Chung Hee was assassinated in a military

In his famous 1979 work, philosopher Edward

stick to illustrate. ‘Korean line,’ he said, ‘is a curve:

one of the most urban.

coup led by General Chun Doo Hwan, destroy-

Said coined the term “Orientalism” to describe

the softness of a woman in her hanbok, the green

Given the history of Orientalism and the eco-

ing all pretenses of democracy. Using martial law,

the historical process whereby Eastern nations

waves of mountains surrounding Kyongju, the

nomic boom of the three countries, it would seem

Chun immediately closed the National Assembly,

gradually took on the reputation of being weaker,

jade ornaments that dangle like ripe pears from

advisable for the planning committees to commit

arrested opposition leaders and banned political

more feminine than their Western counterparts .

the gold Silla crowns .’”

to the full expression of modernity in the Seoul

activities and demonstrations. These repressive ac-

This mindset persisted and permeated 20th cen-

According to this dialogue, America is harsh

Games. One final obstacle, however, made such a

tions reached a high point in 1980 when, on May

tury interactions between the two regions. This

modernity and South Korea is gentle tradition.

course of action a difficult one: the Tourist Gaze.

18, he sent special forces into the city of Gwangju

distinction took on a particularly potent form

Newman moves on to document the lives of the

Coined by John Urry, the concept holds that a

to put down a student demonstration, resulting

in the discussion of sports culture, long associ-

Cho family, among whom rigid customs prevail

tourist develops distinct symbols of a country

in hundreds of deaths in what would become

ated with the masculine “West” and kept beyond

and Confucianism encourages the ideal of obedi-

in their cognitive landscape and will look to col-

known as the Gwangju Uprising . On September

reach of the feminine “East.” Beyond the histori-

ence to authority . Such language invokes a feeling

lect those signs, for example hanbok and arirang in

1, 1980, Chun Doo Hwan was officially inaugu-

cal reputation of East Asia’s physically weak body

of a nation that is entirely different from the Unit-

South Korea. The tourist, who goes to

4. Heo, Uk and Terence Roehrig. South Korea since 1980. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. 31. 5. Said applied his theory primarily to Middle Eastern countries, but he and other scholars have since extrapolated to other countries east of Europe, including Japan, Korea and China.

6. Newman, Cathy. “Kyongju, Where Korea Began.” National Geographic. August 1988. 265. 7. Newman, 267. 8. Manheim, Jarol B. ‘The 1988 Seoul Olympics as Public Diplomacy.” The Western Political Quarterly 43 (1990): 281.

“

Thirty years after its successful introduction, South Korea will look to cement its place in the world as a country full of cultural and traditional surprises for every visitor, but at the same time bursting with innovation and modernity.

”

great length to leave the familiar and experience

future dialogue. The Olympic Games are a pack-

taneously demonstrated modernity and tradition. Histo-

Already in its preparations for the Games, one can see

the unknown, does not wish to see more of the

aged, staged phenomenon where the host nation

rian Sandra Collins brings into play the phrase “modern

the continued focus on “modern hybridity.” Thirty years

same. Even viewing the Seoul Olympic Ceremo-

can create the history and culture it wants others

hybridity” to describe the East Asian Olympics, an amal-

after its successful introduction, South Korea will look

ny on television and finding it indistinguishable

to internalize. The Olympic Planning Committees

gamation of modernity coupled with ancient culture .

to cement its place in the world as a country full of cul-

from Los Angeles would diminish its attraction,

have the chance to design their performed copy for

During Seoul’s bid for the 1988 Games, their promo-

tural and traditional surprises for every visitor, but at the

restricting future impulses to visit South Korea.

international consumption.

tional display featured their time-honored culture using

same time bursting with innovation and modernity.

Tourism in the last few decades has become the

The planning committee for Seoul 1988 had a

advanced slide presentations. Korean Air stewardesses

Today, Samsung Electronics is the world’s largest

world’s largest industry. National tourism sources

unique weapon at their disposal: the relatively be-

representing one of the most modern and advanced in-

handset maker, beating out Apple and Nokia14. South

compete to advertise the individual nature of their

nign cultural currency of South Korea. A smoke-

dustries in Korea served visitors in traditional Korean

Korea has steady footholds in many of the world’s most

country, something no other nation can provide.

screen of sorts, cultural displays have long been

costumes . Carefully placed artwork in the Olympic

advanced industries. Culturally, South Korean pop mu-

To deny the visitor or the viewer the expectations

a mainstay for circumventing political and eco-

stadiums “called for Korea’s traditional patterns such

sic has global appeal. As a rather unorthodox example,

they came with would be to commit a grave error

nomic public relations thorns. The Main Olympic

as multicolor stripes, hunting scenes and embroidery to

take legendary American rapper Snoop Dogg/Lion,

in a country’s promotion. Thus one sees that the

Stadium in Seoul was designed so that its lines fol-

be included with a slightly modern interpretation [such

who stated that Korean pop was his guilty pleasure on

obstacles facing the Seoul Olympics were, like the

lowed the curves of a Chosun Dynasty porcelain

as brighter colors and minimalistic designs] to display

the blogging website reddit15. Though perhaps Snoop

events themselves, highly complex. The organiz-

vase. The swimming pool imitated the iron turtle

Korea’s true image13.” This mix of old and new existing

Dogg/Lion would not attribute his interest in South

ers needed to reconcile the stigma of Orientalism

ships of the 16th century . Every detail of the

side by side came to define the Seoul Olympics. Visitors

Korean girl groups to the Olympics, the 1988 Games

with the need to accommodate the Tourist Gaze,

torch ceremony from torch design to runner uni-

could leave with a pre-packaged feeling of a country all

marked a turning point in South Korea’s relationship

all within the context of political tensions and in-

forms was designed domestically to reflect South

at once benign, exotic and modern.

with the world — a successful coming-out party indeed.

stability.

Korea’s 5,000-year-old cultural tradition . A visi-

Viewed from this perspective, the 1988 Seoul Games

The instant nature of the Olympics and the

tor to the Seoul Olympics could easily experience

were a massive success for a country only very recently

international attention focused upon a single city

a feeling of exoticism, fulfilling the needs of the

ravaged by war. One need only speak to a South Ko-

for 16 days create many obstacles for host coun-

Tourist Gaze and guiding the tourists’ literal gaze

rean citizen about the Olympics to feel their pride in

tries, but at the same time many opportunities. Re-

away from stickier political realities.

the Seoul Games and their belief in its contribution to

gardless of a country’s previous history, if it can

In addition, the planning committee commit-

South Korean history. Koreans have more to look for-

present its version of culture and history in a per-

ted to gradually changing the very meaning of

ward to in their country’s Olympic story. In 2018, South

suasive media event, it has the potential to change

“exoticism.” The cultural displays in Seoul simul-

Korea will host the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang.

9. Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee. Official Report: Organization and Planning Volume 1. Seoul, Korea: Korea Textbook Co., Ltd. 1989. 162-164. 10. Official Report: Organization and Planning Volume 1, 62. 11. Collins, Sandra. “The Fragility of Asian National Identity in the Olympic Games.” Owning the Olympics: Narratives of the New China. Eds. Monroe Price and Daniel Dayan. Ann Harbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2008. 186.

Helen Li is a 2013-2014 ETA at Changypeong High School in Changpyeong, Jeollanam-do.

12. Official Report: Organization and Planning Volume I, 40. 13. Official Report: Organization and Planning Volume I, 656. 14. “Samsung beats Apple, Nokia as world’s largest handset maker,” Fox News, April 27, 2012. 15. Reddit. “I’m Snoop Lion! Ask me Anything!” 1 April 2013. <http://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/14cb0c/im_snoop_ lion_ask_me_anything/>

Well Fermented. Neal Singleton. Seoul

SPIT Gabrielle Nygaard

Scraping a few errant grains of uneaten rice

exactly am I supposed to fix my gaze? Looking

but it feels inherently private. It’s called personal

into the slop pile and dropping my dirty tray onto

out at these passersby would just be asking for

hygiene, not public hygiene, isn’t it?

the stack with that distinct metal-on-metal bang

trouble. I’m obligated to insa 1 anyone who enters

But even worse is the moment of terror when

that I now associate with a full belly, I head out of

my field of vision, but I’m not confident that the

I’m caught hunched at an odd angle with my san-

the cafeteria and back to my classroom. I am the

brush-and-bow is an acceptable maneuver, much

daled feet straddling the perpetual hallway puddle

But the crowd doesn’t go wild. No one so

definition of peppy, smiling and waving to every-

less one I can pull off without a rogue toothbrush

(or Lake Jeonggwang2, as I’ve begun to think of

much as blinks, which shouldn’t surprise me, con-

one I meet with the gusto to rival a presidential

up the nostril or self-inflicted punch to the jaw

it), frenziedly scrubbing my teeth like it’s a matter

sidering all the snot-draining snorting and hack-

candidate. But when I reach the top of the stair-

given the slew of people pouring through. But

of national security. I had planned on getting in

ing that goes on when it’s anyone else who’s man-

case, suddenly this routine is cut short. I drag my

if I look out the window above the wash basin,

and out of there as quickly and covertly as pos-

ning the toothbrush. Hell, my students have even

feet as the sight of the third floor hall reminds me

I’m sure to make uncomfortable eye contact with

sible, but that’s all backfired now as a high-ranking

been known to snort and spit without that pretext

what comes next in the school day ritual.

some distracted student in the building opposite.

school official heads my way. Not only does he see

straight onto the classroom floor, no shame.

In the morning, after lunch and even following

Maybe I’ll look away, but they won’t. It seems that

me frothing green tea-flavored toothpaste at the

Brushing your teeth in the hallway is totally

hurried chocolate snacks crammed down during

a gangly foreigner doing something as mundane

mouth like a rabid dog with a peculiarly refined

normal here. In this situation, only my thinking

passing time, students and teachers alike dutifully

as brushing her teeth still outranks even the most

taste in beverages, but I have to greet him.

that it’s uncomfortable makes it so. I know it, but

flock with their dedicated school toothbrushes, tubes

important lecture from their Korean teachers in

Ergo, my vice principal is going to watch me spit.

as I deliver a mumbled good afternoon and duck

of toothpaste and cups to scrub, spit and rinse…

terms of entertainment value.

If I do a bad job of it, my toothpaste glob

into my classroom, I still can’t help but weigh the

As I resort to inspecting my socks, I can’t help

is going to sit there, a badge of my ineptitude in

awkwardness of the ordeal against a cavity or two.

but feel I’m being judged for my technique... for

the stone basin, and refuse to disappear down the

how long I brush... for the amount of toothpaste

drain, even if that’s exactly what I feel like doing

It’s even more so.

seeping out of the corner of my mouth... but no-

at that moment.

The scene verges on stressful. As my co-work-

body told me the rules. Not brushing enough is

Multiply the pressure when a gaggle of stu-

ers and pupils make their way through, there I am, a

surely bad. But is brushing for too long perhaps

dents starts to gather around the faucet for a drink

five-foot-nine roadblock of self-consciousness ob-

just as faux pas?

and gaze up at me curiously. Now I have a full-

…in the hallway. For a newcomer, brushing your teeth in the hall isn’t as awkward as it sounds.

structing their path in the name of dental hygiene.

In any case, I’d just rather not be looked at.

As they sidestep me and I brush away, where

Maybe this position isn’t exactly compromising,

1. Greetings, traditionally in the form of a bow

Yet somehow, I manage a brilliantly on-target, most ladylike spit that arcs perfectly into the drain. No splash, no sound. A real 10-out-of-10, standing-ovation, Olympic-level spit.

Gabrielle Nygaard is a 2013-2014 ETA at Jeonggwang Middle School in Gwangju.

fledged audience to witness me fumble this deceptively ordinary task.

2. In reference to Jeonggwang Middle School

ODE SUBURBAN KOREA to

Josephine Reece Before we loved each other we loved the

stance, would choose to love this city fueled on

neath the cloudy blossoms. A troupe of children

flutter brightly against the gray sky. The men with

mountain. (When traveling to a new place how can

the ghost of over-eager expansion? Here the gap-

is singing in a makeshift amphitheater. My host

their food carts struggle to set up umbrellas in

you guess what will grip your heart?) Our moun-

ing eyes of unfinished apartments stare out across

mother and I swing our arms; we march our feet.

the rising wind. My host mother and I don’t share

tain rests on the skirts of downtown, hemmed by

the pepper fields and trash-compacting facilities.

We take candy from the woman advertising a new

what we wrote. As we turn to go I have already

a lake and a river of cherry trees. My host mother

Here the ancient Nakdong River weaves itself

restaurant and leave her flyers in a bush. We buy

forgotten which paper was mine. Together they

and I walk here once, maybe twice a week. There

through a labyrinth of factories. Damp air carries

ppeong-twigi and wait impatiently for our bag to fill.

cling to the branch, indistinguishable now from

is not much to say on the mountain, but words

chemical scents past our school all day. Yet who

Ppeong, ppeong, ppeong. Next to the ppeong-twigi cart

one another. Two papers on a branch; two people

carry more gravity. They drop and settle like

can help but love waking up on a sun-sick morn-

is a man dressed as a belly dancer singing trot and

on the path. The rain is coming down harder now.

stones kicked into the water — invisible later, even

ing to find that the pumpkin vine on your neigh-

selling dry rice-cakes. “야 야 야 내나이가 어때

Throwing our jackets over our heads, my host

to ourselves. The mountain in turn has settled into

bor’s roof has borne fruit?

서 / 사랑에 나이가 있나요 ,” he sings. The rain

mother and I run to the car. With the rain outside,

is starting — a drop hits my nose, hits the children

the car’s shivering darkness feels like a pocket of

who have stopped singing, hits the couples try-

air in the deep sea. Cherry trees slide by, ghostly in

ing to shelter their tripods — but the man doesn’t

the stark illumination of the headlights. Stopped

care. He looks as if he could sing forever, slowly

at an intersection I become aware of Geumosan.

swaying his shoulders from side to side.

It is on our left, haltingly illuminated by the pass-

behind my mother and me.

the city. It is there behind each street, each building, each man, each woman, each child and even

“What is special about Gumi?” I ask my students. “Gumi has Geumosan ,” one replies. 1

My host mother has lived in Gumi her entire life. She told me once that during college she

In the early spring I walk with my host moth-

moved to the nearest big city, but “I missed my

er down the lane of cherry blossoms leading to

As we grow older we talk about “putting down

ing cars. I watch for a moment as sections of rock

town.” She was homesick by a 40-minute train

Geumosan’s base. It rained last night and will rain

roots.” Roots tie you down. Yet roots have a pur-

face are revealed and disappear. Then the light

ride, homesick for a town where, my students tell

again soon. We can feel it in the damp air and the

pose; they are always searching, always thirsty. To

changes and together my host mother and I turn,

me, “Nothing is special.” For their speaking test

soft chemical scent it carries from the industrial

live in a place is to become tangled, is to grow.

keeping Geumosan behind us through the night.

in the fall, I asked my students, “What is special

sector to the south. Still, the park is full of people.

Without even realizing it, I was putting down

about Gumi?” Nothing, most replied. In subur-

This time of year work ends early, or, work does

roots in Gumi. Little tendrils tying me to a place

ban Korea, status is measured by the number of

not end early but everyone is on holiday. I won-

and people of whom I knew nothing except that

Caffé Benes your town holds. If you know the an-

der how it feels to see the cherry blossoms year

we were together.

swer by heart then your town is “nothing special.”

after year; even my host mother is suddenly young

Before we leave the park my host mother and I

Sometimes I agree with them. Who, for in-

among the flowers. Couples with tripods pose be-

tie our wishes to a tree. The flimsy colored papers

1. Geumo Mountain

Josephine Reece is a 2013-2014 ETA at Gumi Shinpyeong Middle School in Gumi, Gyeongsangbuk-do.

2. A puffed rice crisp, it gets its name from the sound it makes (ppeong!) as it pops out of the machine. 3. Named after the two-beat “fox-trot,” trot is the earliest form of Korean pop music. 2. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong with my age / Is there an age for love?” from singer Oh Seung Geun’s “내나이가 어때서.”

“Summer” Sophia Zhang

The music had been missing from my life for

smile and clap.

a while. It faded sometime during college. Like

“I don’t want to go to high school,” she says,

many things, it happened without explanation, and

when the movers leave and things quiet down. We

I didn’t notice the difference until years later.

are sitting side by side on the piano bench.

Summer days: an apartment filled with sun-

“Can you play ‘Summer’?” I ask. I forget where

shine, purple globe grapes and the piercing silver

I first heard the melody, but it’s one of my favorites.

of flute. From the balcony, we had a full view of

“Yes!” She takes out the sheet music and her

the Gyeongsan River. Kyung Eun always left the door to her room open. “Hi! Have nice day!” she would greet me brightly, then reposition her flute

hands glide over the black and white keys. As I listen, happiness wells in me — the sort that only music can inspire.

and turn back to the sheet music in front of her.

“I love this song so much.”

She’d just begun Francois Devienne’s Concerto

“I teach you, very easy.”

No. 7 in E minor. The notes were fluttery, new.

She places my hands over the keys and rests her

Those days, the apartment was rarely silent.

own an octave higher. She plays and I copy. When I

The backdrop of flute hung over our lives. As the

stumble, she corrects me gently. “Very good!” She

season waned, the notes grew brighter, more con-

beams when I manage three bars without messing up.

fident. They captured the sweetness of summer. At

“You play very well.”

school, I asked Kyung Eun and her classmates if they were excited to start high school next spring.

The next morning, Kyung Eun is not at break-

“No…”

fast. I find out from my host mom that she left

“Why not?”

for school over an hour ago. She does not return

“High school very busy, always work.”

for dinner either. Even after I’ve washed up and

beneath her eyes. She has gained a bit of weight

stand. I glance at the title. J. Demesseman’s Sixième

from eating out every day. “I miss you,” I manage

Solo de Concert. She does a few scales and then

to say right before she slips out the door.

brings the silver instrument to her lips. The song

Around late March, my host mom has to go to

is much more difficult than the last. It is incredibly

a parent-teacher conference and takes me with her.

fast and full of trills. It is impressive, but not pretty

She drops me off in front of a tonkatsu restaurant

like the Francois Devienne piece.

a few blocks from the school. Kyung Eun appears

When my host mom comes by around 7 p.m.

next to me, holding an umbrella over my head. “So-

to pick me up, I turn to Kyung Eun. “Please come

phia! Come, we have dinner!” She links her arm

home with us.”

through mine and ushers me inside. I blink, still not quite believing it’s her I’m seeing. “There 10 flutists in my grade. All more expe-

Eventually, it stops raining. A Wednesday. I am

rience than me. So I have to practice very hard,”

the first one home. I put my things away and step

Kyung Eun tells me over our fried pork cutlets and

into the empty living room. Outside, green shoots

unlimited Coke refills. After we pay, she brings me

push out of the damp ground. The soft pink of

to her practice room.

cherry blossoms has begun to spread across the

There is a small central area and a bathroom

I think I hear the sound of someone’s flute play-

two rows of soundproof rooms. Kyung Eun

ing. I stand still, and listen. But it is just the silence

knocks on each one and introduces me to the

playing tricks on me. Outside, the soft murmuring of

classmate who plays oboe, the classmate who plays

traffic ripples the stillness. I sit down on the piano

cello, the classmate who plays violin. Finally, we ar-

bench, and raise the slightly dusty lid. The first notes of “Summer” fill the apartment.

that brushes her ankles, white blouse, and double-

Once, I catch Kyung Eun just as she is about to

breasted maroon suit. She spins around, and I

leave for school. For the first time, there are bags

Kyung Eun rearranges the sheet music on the

It’s strange — leaving for two months in the

An entire week passes. I keep expecting to hear

winter and coming back to find the Gyeongsan

the sound of Kyung Eun’s flute, but there is only

River missing, replaced with a view of gray con-

silence. In the living room, the piano lid remains

crete. I’m standing in a foreign apartment. Movers

shut. It rains on and off. I leave my umbrella in the

and sawdust everywhere. Kyung Eun is model-

teachers’ office and walk slowly down the wet, gray

ing her new art high school uniform: a black skirt

streets of Daegu.

bare branches.

with a showerhead. Down a wooden hallway are

rive at her room. It is about the size of a medium closet. There is enough space for a small armchair and Kyung Eun’s music stand. A pillow and duvet are spread against the windowless wall. Beneath the duvet is an electric blanket that’s currently unplugged. So this is where she comes to every day after school and stays late into the night. This is where she spends her weekends, where she remains instead of coming home. “Can I hear the new song you’re playing?” “Okay.”

climbed into bed, she still does not come home.

She sighs. “I want to, but I have to stay practice.”

They are fluttery, new. The afternoon sun warms my back. Slowly, happiness wells in me – the sort that only music can inspire.

Sophia Zhang is a 2013-2014 ETA at Nobyeon Middle School in Daegu.

The Provider. Kristen Bialik. Jindo Sea Parting Festival, Jindo

Oysters. Judy Her. Seocheon

Bridge On Up. Rachel Lim. Daedunsan

4.3 “14,382 killed.”

to the Jeju narrative and fit amongst the geologic

“Persecution of ordinary farmers.”

formations, diving women and biting gusts of salt-

“Careful government cover-up.”

infused air that Jeju is known for today.

“Sixty years in exile.”

The answers came when I least expected it. As

These are just some of the phrases my co-

I reached across the dinner table to dip a crackling

teacher used when I first learned about the 4.3

piece of horsemeat in gochujang1 – a Jeju specialty – at

Massacre. In the face of Jeju’s dark past, I strug-

a family gathering, I remember hearing “4월3일2.”

gled to rationalize that the island known as the

Wanting to reaffirm that my elementary Korean

Hawaii of Korea, a romantic honeymoon destina-

language skills had not deceived me, I raced to the

tion and weekend get-away from caffeine-driven,

calendar on the wall. My finger hovered over the

workaholic Seoul, was ravaged by a bloody con-

previous Thursday, the ominous date of the Jeju

flict pre-dating the Korean War.

Massacre. My entire extended host family nodded

During the post-colonial turmoil and the sub-

Spring at the Naval Base. Andrew Cheng. Jinhae

Marissa Lynn

in unison.

sequent division of the Korean Peninsula, Jeju

“Sixty-four years,” stammered a great aunt. “Sixty-

was branded a “Red Island.” The U.S. military dis-

four years in Japan. Jeju was my home but I couldn’t

patched police and youth troops called the seochung

return out of fear of imprisonment or death.”

to suppress strikes and perceived communist ac-

Between 1947 and 1954, many people fled to

tivity across the island. The troops terrorized and

Japan to escape the violence in Jeju. My host aunt

tortured Jeju civilians. On the morning of April

was among those who sought sanctuary abroad.

3, 1948, members of the Namro Party rose up

Unable to return to Korea or obtain Japanese citi-

against the brutality, initiating an era of violence.

zenship, she has been living country-less for over

The forests around Hallasan, Jeju’s famed volcanic

60 years. Beginning in the early 2000s with Presi-

peak, became a battleground between the seochung

dent Roh Moo-Hyun’s apology to the Jeju people,

and leftist groups. After learning that the major-

she has made a yearly pilgrimage to Jeju to mark

ity of casualties were Jeju people with no political

the tragic anniversary of her flight. Hopefully it’s

affiliations, I was interested to see how the events

partially cathartic to return to see the beautiful

that took place between 1947 and 1954 contribute

cherry blossoms, symbolic of new beginnings,

1. A pungent fermented Korean condiment made from red chili, glutinous rice, fermented soybeans, and salt 2. April 3 in Korean

“

To the sons and daughters of Jeju lost and never found. You are not forgotten.

”

blooming around the 4.3 Memorial near her fam-

in the rain-soaked air. Stopping in front of the

ily home and attend the annual memorial services.

metal frame of a tree with colorful paper leaves

This year was especially significant as the South

for visitors to leave their impressions, I scribbled

Korean government finally recognized 4.3 as a

a quick message:

national memorial day after 66 years of blindness and disregard. But memorials, government rec-

To the sons and daughters of Jeju lost and never found. You are not forgotten.

ognition and truth commissions will never fully

I received a quick nod from my co-teacher as I

compensate for the 66 years of family gatherings

placed my note on a low-hanging branch of the tree.

she has missed.

She announced in an emotionless voice, “It’s time to

My host family is fortunate — separation

go, Marissa.” I knew that this was the same stalwart

is better than lingering uncertainty. Many Jeju

demeanor that Jeju people have projected for the

people will never know what happened to their

past 66 years, yet that nod contained a hint of some-

loved ones. Countless fathers and grandfathers,

thing else. It was subtle, but a dose of appreciation

contradictory nature of these names is a result of

sleep peacefully in the corner, their bedtime long

the majority of which were farmers with no po-

and healing came from sharing a family burden.

the 50-year government cover-up and the fierce

since passed. We have a long drive ahead of us.

repression of information related to the event.

The sinuous 516 road which passes over Hallasan

litical agendas or violent motives, were lost in the

View from the Samgumburi Crater. Laura Ahn. Jeju

struggle. 3,429 tombstones dot the hillside beside

For many Jeju people, the 4.3 Massacre is a

But now that the dead have been tallied and the

and connects Jeju City and Seogwipo is dangerous

the 4.3 Memorial marking the 3,429 victims that

historical burden — a hardship borne amongst

government recognizes 4.3 as a national memorial

late at night, but we are not ready to leave just yet.

were never found .

the survivors and descendants. It will remain a

day, we should call it what it was: a massacre.

Each moment is precious. One night a year is all

“One night he didn’t come home,” my Ful-

burden until the incident is given a historical defi-

bright co-teacher stated as casually as if she was

nition. While historians have worked to discern

With the word “massacre” in mind, I return

describing cooking dinner. “My mother remarried

the seeds of the conflict, a large tombstone lack-

to that crowded kitchen filled with members of

and hardly mentioned it.”

ing an inscription at the entrance of the 4.3 Me-

my host family gathered to say goodbye. These

As we walked around the 4.3 Memorial on a

morial reminds us of the ambiguity surrounding

are the survivors. This is what it means to share

drizzly Sunday morning, both of us knew that

the event. “Massacre,” “incident,” “uprising” and

a tragic history. The clock ticks loudly on the wall

one of the nameless tombstones belonged to him.

“violent counter-insurgency” have all been used to

announcing the passing of yet another hour that

Neither one of us spoke, but the truth hung heavy

describe the years between 1947 and 1954. The

no one seems to recognize. The young children

3. Jeju 4.3 Peace Park, www.jeju43peace.or.kr

we have.

Marissa Lynn is a 2013-2014 ETA at Seogwipo Middle School in Seogwipo, Jeju-do.

Lost in Time and Space. Andrew Cheng. Tongyeong

the

LOTUS FLOWER

BLOOMS

MUD

Ginger Whitesell Five. In one year. Five people taken from

of oneness, feeling no distinction between my self

Even the most ancient past thrives through time.

uncle, I went to the temple as usual. I felt heavy

my life after I removed myself from theirs on a

and the environment. Through mindful practice

Awesome dragons encircle pillars with the duty of

with emotion. I was desperate for the dharma

temporary excursion across the Pacific. Five bod-

and meditation, I learned to escape the boundar-

enlightened protectors of the temple, safeguard-

hall2, to seek solace in the evening ceremony. I

ies, whose shared blood no longer flows through

ies of my freckled body, long limbs made longer

ing ideas of peace. The temples were exquisitely

slipped my shoes off outside and entered, intense-

warm veins. Five familiar embraces I won’t hold

as my mind stretched them to infinity. I had my

decorated yet harmonious with the surrounding

ly aware of how my misery filled the room. I went

when I get home — or ever — again. Five people

first comprehensions of the expanse of the uni-

landscape. My desire to explore the religion and

through the bowing motions and evening chant,

whose smiles I counted on at holidays and in be-

verse and how I could fill it with my mind and self.

philosophy they served intensified.

struggling to contain my grief and focus on the

tween, replaced forevermore by the bittersweet

Later, in Korea, in a passionate discussion with my

A close friend told me about an English-

service. Once it ended, I quickly sat cross-legged,

recounts of favorite memories.

weekly philosophy group we drew scientific paral-

speaking Buddhist nun at a temple she had come

anticipating the nun’s three signifying claps for the

Losing a family member is hard. And when I

lels with reincarnation. For the first time, I consid-

across one afternoon, modestly tucked between

meditation to begin.

left for Korea in July of 2012, I never fathomed it

ered the idea of rebirth seriously. Buddhist philos-

tangerine farms off a dirt road in a rural area of

Immediately, my awareness left my body and

would happen five times over. In the course of a

ophy had begun to take root in my mind, but like

Jeju City. I began attending an evening ceremony

the room I occupied. My mind flooded with ques-

little over a year, I would be torn apart, with bits

a lotus seed , it remained hidden beneath murky

and meditation practice at the temple each week.

tions welling up from my frustration and sadness

of my heart floating across the large pond sepa-

waters, not yet ready to blossom from the mud.

As time passed, the rituals became more familiar,

of this most recent death. Where was my uncle?

rating me from my loved ones. The news of each

When I first came to Korea, temples were a

and my relationship with the nun grew more in-

death weighed down on me, disturbing my bal-

novelty. Seeing a new one often reminded me that

timate. I found myself wanting more, my mind

anced buoyancy. Eventually I was drowning in tur-

I was far from home. But as time passed and Ko-

seeking to deeply understand Buddhism and its

bid waters with no light guiding me to resurface.

rea became more familiar, the Buddhist temples

idyllic teachings.

Would I escape this anguish? Or would I continue

that sprinkle the Korean landscape went from be-

Then I got an email from my mom that made

to sink, inundated by my muck of despair?

ing a source of reticent wonder to one of com-

me sink. My great uncle was dying. My godfather,

Long before Korea and the heart-wrenching

fort. Their steep-sloped roofs, curving up into

the humble, gentle man who spent his life shower-

state, his mind?

news from back home, I found myself drawn to

small peaks at each corner, became gentle smiles

ing others with unconditional love and generosity,

Would we ever meet again? Where?

Buddhist philosophy. Though I was Catholic-born

visible from a distance. The carved undersides of

wouldn’t live through the night. And, like the other

When?

and later turned agnostic, the serenity I felt from

the wooden rooftops blanketed in complex green-

deaths in my family that had already occurred while I

Why was I here?

Buddhism always appealed to me. As a dedicated

hued patterns interlaced with bright blue and red,

was overseas, I wouldn’t be there for a last goodbye.

yogi in college, I experienced my first sensations

a vivid testament to the effort put forth in upkeep.

The Wednesday after the death of my great

1. Lotus flowers grow in muddy water. In Buddhism, a lotus flower symbolizes a transcendence from attachment and human experience to a state of purity and enlightenment.

Why did he have to die while I was away? Was my family okay? Why didn’t I spend more time with him while I was home? What would become of his body, his

Why was I so alone? I grew frantic for answers. I knew my mind

2. A room for Buddhist worship and religious services

“

I live presently. I live. I remind myself that life is a mutually shared experience. When loneliness begins to press close, I remember that distance between myself and others is irrelevant. There are ways to hug someone across an ocean.

Sand Painting, with Buddhas. Neal Singleton. Yakcheonsa, Seogwipo

”

should be calm. Meditative. One. But over-

growth that all experience. With the nun’s three

wrought and distressed, these questions reverber-

concluding claps, I returned to the dharma hall.

ated throughout my mind.

I eased out of my meditation and into my body

The dharma hall and others in it were forgot-

and surroundings, realizing that an acceptance of

ten. My senses lost significance. I didn’t feel the

my current circumstances would lead to strength,

cushion beneath me on the polished wood floor, I

serenity and fulfillment.

drew nothing from the intricately carved wooden

Buddhism continues to be a source of com-

shrine before me and I didn’t hear the birds out-

fort and great learning, and I refer to its teachings

side begin their evening tune. I don’t even know if

in times of happiness, sadness and stress. I live

I breathed. Then suddenly, a glorious vision filled

presently. I live. I remind myself that life is a mu-

my dark mind.

tually shared experience. When loneliness begins

With a gentle glow, I saw my uncle and me in

to press close, I remember that distance between

a wonderful whirling: a yin yang of our souls, our

myself and others is irrelevant. There are ways to

minds, our spirits, holding one another. We had al-

hug someone across an ocean. I feel no absence

ways been together and forever would be. There was

of my uncle or other loved ones who have passed;

no distinct separation between him and me, or any-

their essence fills this earth and its people just as

thing. Just as he held my heart, and just as I grasped

I do. While I cannot alter the hardships I’ve en-

his, I grabbed hold of every thing in this universe.

dured over this last year, I can be more fulfilled

Outside observers might have noted a slight change in my facial expression. Perhaps I sat up straighter than the others in the temple. In that moment, I reached a profound spiritual homeo-

by my connectedness with others through space and time. My lotus, risen unsullied from muddy waters, unfolds gingerly in the sun.

stasis, a true feeling of oneness. I burst with my connection to the universe — my being outstretched, blanketing my surroundings like the warm rays of the sun. Illuminated with this great

Ginger Whitesell is a 2012-2014 ETA at Jeju Jungang Girls’ High School in Jeju City, Jeju-do.

faith, I understood that death is not a final stage, but rather a brief stop in a continual process of

MY KOREAN

MUSICAL Jenna Gibson

My life now couldn’t be more different from

of literally hundreds of tracks in the “newly add-

my Korean life — I’ve gone from teacher back to

ed” section of my iTunes after a fellow ETA gave

student, and I’m far more likely to spend my week-

me my first taste of K-pop. I didn’t realize un-

end in a study room than on a mugunghwa . But still,

til the next morning that one of the songs I had

no matter where I am, when my iTunes shuffles to

heard on shuffle was solidly stuck in my head. For

a certain song, I am instantly back there. One note

the next week straight, I had TOP’s gravelly rap

and I can vividly remember a month in Seoul, a

introduction streaming through my head, whether

weekend in Busan, a walk home from school. My

my earphones were in at the time or not.

Korean life, captured in moments, recalled by the music that accompanied them:

EXO – “What is Love” Four people, two bunk beds and about three

Big Bang – “Cafe” It had been on loop for three days now as I

Seoul living literally on top of each other, ondol

dashed through the claustrophobic gray stone

cranked up and music blasting from laptop speak-

hallways of Jungwon University. On the long jog

ers nearly 24/7. I was starting to actually under-

down the 10 flights of stairs from my room to

stand the songs too, each moment of clarity like a

down a pile of wonderfully old kimchi and, if I

lightning strike. The winter Korean classes seemed

was lucky, an oddly sweet egg sandwich. In the

to be paying off.

brief break between lectures as I rushed to grab

One roommate always said it was the best

red bean bread from the convenience store. In the

month of our grant year. Crammed into that tiny

late afternoon as I tried to wrap my tongue around

hostel room, she said, “Every day I went to bed

the twisted syllables of basic Korean I had learned

laughing and every day I woke up laughing.” May-

that day.

be not so much on the days when an 8 a.m. bowl

I didn’t understand a single word, even after

of cereal filled the whole room with a crunching

looking up the lyrics and dutifully copying down

noise louder than a thunderstorm. But we made up

each line in awkwardly precise hangeul.

for that in “Sherlock” marathons and kalguksu3 and

I had discovered “Cafe” by accident, just one

우리 둘이. Katelyn Hemmeke. Pohang

square feet of floor space. We spent February in

turning our little room into a makeshift noraebang4.

1. One of South Korea’s trains 2. Floor heating 3. Noodle soup 4. Karaoke room

Super Junior – “언젠가는5”

to follow but not too simple. Of course my first

“어디로 가는지 아무도 모르지만6 …” It

thought was to give them some Backstreet Boys

was true. We didn’t know where we were all going.

— a throwback that would certainly make them

It was the end of our first year in Korea, and half

unique in a competition that was sure to be full

of us were splitting off, returning back to a land

of over-played tracks by Adele and Maroon 5. But

where communication came easily, where public

they wanted something newer, something brighter

transportation was a little more limiting and where

(I maintain that nothing is brighter than Brian’s

a good sauna scrubdown was a mere fantasy.

smile, but I wasn’t going to argue with a group of

So we celebrated those leaving and those stay-

teenage girls about the merits of 90s pop).

ing with Gwangalli Bridge in the background.

So I jumped around YouTube, finally making

We waded into the East Sea at midnight, cack-

it to the earworm of the fall. And my girls were

ling when a rogue wave left a few of our group

immediately hooked, thanks in part to the hunky

waist-high in water. We created a makeshift picnic,

boy next door who starred in the music video.

forgetting a bottle opener and enlisting the help

And so began weeks of after-school practices,

of a group of ajusshis 7 to open our wine with a

trying to hit every note and get every word right

chopstick. We stumbled back to our hotel at a not-

(“Teacher, what is ‘foresight??’”). But the grins on

so-decent hour in a not-so-decent state, wailing

the girls’ faces when they won the regional compe-

dramatically and fake sobbing along with the lyr-

tition was certainly worth every night that I went

ics: “언젠가는 우리 다시 만나리~~~~~8”

too few mattresses, was that song.

last few hours before saying goodbye to two years

forest and beautiful views.

and to many friends, watching Korean celebrities

We also assumed it would have a place to stay

the night. And maybe a restaurant or two. Instead, we ended up staying in a room rented

act out a perfectly translated adaptation of one of the most quintessentially American stories there is: “High School Musical.”

out by a quiet old couple, cramming two of us into

Last day in Seoul checklist:

a space completely filled by a twin bed. And the

□ Watch “High School Musical” in Korean (check)

only food on the island was the cup ramyeon sold

□ Sit less than 10 feet away from no fewer than four

out of someone’s garage at a 200 percent markup.

members of your favorite K-pop group (check)

But once we started hiking, power-walking up

□ Take a few too many “final” selcas 10 (check) □ Eat an extra serving of galbi 11 at 2 a.m. (check)

though it was long past summer on the mainland,

□ Watch a fellow ETA vehemently dispute baggage

the views were unforgettable — fog-encrusted is-

weight limits with an Incheon clerk at 6 a.m. (check)

to bed with Carly’s perky voice ringing in my ears.

lands breaking through an endless plane of water.

□ Say goodbye (check)

Shinhwa – “This Love”

tiny bed, stuffing it and the only bottle of makke-

We only had a few weekends left, time enough for one more trip. The criteria were simple: 1)

Carly Rae Jepsen – “Call Me Maybe”

”

western coast, was supposed to have an evergreen

the island to cut the chill that lingered there even

All we seemed to know at that time, shuffling around the motel floor to fit too many people on

“

All we seemed to know at that time, shuffling around the motel floor to fit too many people on too few mattresses, was that song.

somewhere outdoors, 2) somewhere I could take

I made a huge mistake.

good pictures and 3) somewhere tourists would

My girls had asked for some song recom-

not normally go.

mendations for an English speaking competi-

Well, we certainly hit the last one, at least.

tion — something upbeat but not too fast, easy

Oeyeondo, one of the farthest islands off Korea’s

5. “Someday” 6. “But no one knows where we’re going…” 7. Middle-aged men 8. “Whenever we will meet again;” the “~” is used to indicate drawn-out sound.

That night we stole the comforter from our oli 9 left at the garage mart into my backpack. We

Jenna Gibson was a 2011-2013 ETA at Cheonan

watched the sun set over the ocean, content with that

Ohsung Middle School in Cheonan. She is now pursuing

one cliché in our otherwise less-than-ordinary trip, as

her master’s degree at Georgetown University’s School of

Shinhwa’s latest blasted through shared headphones.

Foreign Service.

High School Musical – “We’re All in This Together” Irony is spending your last night in Korea, the

9. Korean rice wine 10. Short for “self-camera,” or taking a picture of yourself 11. Grilled meat

HERE IN

OHIO

Yoon-Chan Kim

My colleague pops her head into my office to

out platoon of proud and “true” Koreans, raised

ask if I’ve heard. It’s about a boat in Korea. My

and maligned by the same land that bore them.

mind skips a beat. I don’t think about boats very

They spent the last six months forging a class

often. I furrow my brows: No, I don’t know. A

identity, so who was I to charge in with a pretense

boat with hundreds sank off the western coast.

for pedagogy? The silence broods like when former lovers meet.

When I hear anything related to Korea, scenes

Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside with a

from childhood surface as pictures or short video

student unafraid to voice his frustration. He inter-

clips: Mom guffaws over something Grandma

rogates me, trying to decode why someone with a

says; I race up mahogany stairs to look at Grand-

face like mine and a name like mine would act as if

pa’s vintage stamps; my brother and I watch our

he doesn’t know the mother tongue. His words fly

cousins fight; I glide on ice toward my imaginary

at me, and I can’t grasp whether they are of vigor

Olympic gold in speed skating. All these whir by,

or venom. My inexperience sends him away to the

like scenes from an old film projector.

discipline office, belying his sincerity and confirm-

Then I arrive at a second set of scenes. They

ing my ignorance. The morning haze cuts through

feel a bit more urgent because they happened

metal bars on windows and shows his sulking

more recently.

shoulders bobbing away in the distance.

My co-teacher flashes a smile and wishes me luck. He turns his back, walks out of the class-

I think I feel an inch more comfortable. I

room and shuts the door behind him. Please wel-

know where the clean bathrooms are and where

come the new English teacher from America on

to go for lunch. I think I can maybe do this for

his first day at this all-boys high school famous for

the next year. Until I catch a glimpse of the nudity.

its delinquency.

(top) Over the Hill. Neal Singleton. Seoul (bottom) Hello Spring. Neal Singleton. Gagweonsa, Cheonan

A month passes.

He thought I wouldn’t notice, or it would be

The silence sits, awkward and uncomfortable.

funny, or both. Yes, it’s very hot, so I understand

Forty variations on my Korean face look back at

it’s hard to focus. The fans are on and the windows

me with wonder, fascination, indifference and dis-

are open though, so let’s just do the best we can.

trust. I stand as the “American” intruding with a

Yes of course, we’re all boys here, so you can take

foreign tongue. They stand together like a worn-

your uniform jackets off. But you just took all of

your clothes off while sitting in your chair. I stop

ment feels a bit safer. I walk back to the teachers’

this symphony, that poem and the painting by

having said I love you enough, wondering if you

the lesson; I stop mid-sentence. The whole class

lounge past familiar faces who have made me feel

Monet. Love can be effortless. We know it when

ever did enough, and doubting everything you

turns to witness the silence, warm and sticky, like

more welcome: the history teacher who tells me

we feel it, so we accept it without question.

ever believed in. It’s a love that decimates you,

the bullets on my forehead. All eyes on him, then

about his travels, the physics teacher who tells me

I recall this in the scenes with my students.

then sits on what’s left with the weight of a planet.

all eyes on me. Now we wait for the silence to

about his daughters and the ethics teacher who

One of them beams after learning an American

Now, I claim no authority over these issues.

break. But of course it doesn’t break. It waits. It

tells me nothing. I arrive at my desk and smile at

idiom. Another explodes with laughter seeing

When I tell you today that I loved 600 students, I

waits with a grin, twisted and knowing.

the English teachers who tell me more about the

that the mask fits the giant. The student who in-

speak of a love more complex than I once imag-

Your move, Kim Teacher.

students we teach: their families, trials, compas-

terrogated me tries to hide his smile. Little Napo-

ined. It’s a love that feels obscure and heavy. It

I send him outside and he takes his clothes

sion and courage.

leon opens up in a rare moment of honesty and

feels so vast and infinite. It forces me to grapple

Behind the student who interrogated me that

shares with me his worries, hopes and dreams

with things I don’t really want to, like seeing the

Another month passes.

first day slouches a home broken from abuse and

before retreating once more to join his breth-

students I adore in that scene off the western

In the back, the class clown wields a wand at

neglect. Behind the student who took off all his

ren. This love was always simple: deep, yes, but

coast. It pains me because I can still see the 40

his group. Up in front, the dynamite nicknamed

clothes lives a family of nine in a two-bedroom

simple. I never questioned it. It was everywhere,

puzzled faces from that first day of class, feel that

Napoleon dances around in his tiara. Today is

apartment. Behind the class clown wielding the

vital and constant. It lit the hallways and electri-

twisted silence, and hear the entire class laugh. I

Halloween, and with the weather a bit cooler and

wand at his group waits a disabled younger sister

fied the air. You could feel it pulse even when

don’t want to consider something so horrifying. I

the foliage a bit brighter, it seems like a good day

who has inspired him to become a doctor. Be-

school was out.

don’t want to feel like I just lost hundreds of my

to put on some costumes and play some games.

hind the dynamite dancing in his tiara looms a

But ever since my colleague popped her head

own. Yet this kind of love demands that I wrestle

The gentle giant — six-foot-five and rotund

father whose financial success has alienated him

into my office, I have been wondering if this kind

with such ugly things. It demands that I wrestle

enough to be either an American football player

from his son. Behind the gentle giant stands a

of love suffices. After all, it’s easy. It’s easy to see,

with things like loss and regret, and sometimes I

or a bear — lumbers forward to the front of the

single mother working at two restaurants day and

easy to grasp, easy to feel. We don’t ever have to

feel like I just don’t stand a chance. I don’t know

class. With an endearing smile and the respect of

night just to support her son’s dream of becom-

think about this kind of love. But I’ve been won-

how to “collect” myself or “pick up the pieces”

the entire school, he takes the black mask every-

ing a professor of Korean history.

dering if there is a deeper and more complicated

or “move on” or “come to peace.” And I’m not

kind of love, the kind we neither know how to

even a parent. I never even taught them.

with him. The silence leaves, but the grin stays.

one dared him to try on. I’ll bet you candy money

These were just five of the 600 students I

it won’t fit his head. He silences the crowd, picks

taught. These were just five of the 600 students

up the mask and makes us all witnesses. Voilà. The

I loved.

talk about nor want to talk about.

But maybe that’s exactly the point. Maybe I

I mean the kind of love that has a really dark

should feel the weight of a planet. Maybe I should

side to it. I mean the harrowing stuff, the stuff

wrestle with ugly things like loss and regret. May-

that kicks you in the gut when you hear hundreds

be I should feel like I don’t stand a chance, because

When I hear someone say anything about love,

have drowned in a senseless tragedy, and then

when I tell you today that I loved 600 students,

The bell rings, and I walk out beaming. The

I often think that we believe love should come to

keeps its foot there long after you cry mercy. It’s

my love for them feels so vast and infinite, like the

art of pedagogy still eludes me, but the environ-

us easily. I love your smile, I love the sunset. I love

the kind of love that leaves you regretting not

ocean or a night sky dripping with stars.

class explodes with laughter. Cheers, shouts and

More than 300 students were on that boat.

pure delight rain, transforming a lesson on culture into a holy riot. I laugh like I haven’t in months.

“

Maybe I should feel the weight of a planet. Maybe I should wrestle with ugly things like loss and regret. Maybe I should feel like I don’t stand a chance, because when I tell you today that I loved 600 students, my love for them feels so vast and infinite, like the ocean or a night sky dripping with stars. 65

I have spent a lot of time in urban areas: Seoul

And when we look up

as a child, northern California in my teens and the City of Angels too. One thing they have in com-

they think we are looking back at them,

mon is that they are by the coast, so when you’re

which makes them lift their oars and fall silent

there, boats are never hard to come by. You see

and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.2 Shorebound. Neal Singleton. Phuket, Thailand

them bobbing along those sheets of blue. But here in Ohio, you really don’t see them

I look up at the vast blue and wonder who

much. Sure, the lakes are just north, but boats just

they are. Maybe they are parents, waiting for us

don’t grace this land-locked place. It’s hard to even

to fall asleep. Or maybe they are younger and a

think about them.

little less mature. Maybe they’re all together like

What you do get here, though, is a whole lot

a worn-out platoon, making fun of each other as

of sky. It stretches for miles, so when you whip

they row alongside a dozen other platoons. And

your head around, you get to see the whole ho-

maybe when they’re lingering in silence with their

rizon surround you. Rays from dawn and dusk

oars out of the water, they’re waiting for us to

stretch like runways.

close our eyes so they can paint stars in a vast and

I’ve met a lot of people under this sky, includ-

infinite night sky.

ing someone who introduced me to the works

Dawn or dusk, I see them always. I see them

of American poet Billy Collins. In his collection

working to build this beautiful scene. I hope they

“Questions about Angels,” Collins writes that

know it’s not always a bad thing that teachers have

those who have passed are:

eyes in the back of their heads.

…always looking down on us, they say, while we are putting on our shoes or making a

Yoon-Chan Kim was a 2010-2011 ETA at Young-

sandwich,

saeng High School in Jeonju. He now works in college ad-

they are looking down through the glass-bot-

missions in northeast Ohio.

tom boats of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity.1

1. Collins, Billy. “The Dead.” Sailing Alone Around the Room. Random House, 2001. 33. Print. 2. Collins 33

This photo: Buddha and Sky. Neal Singleton. Gagweonsa, Cheonan The Fulbright Korea Infusion EMAIL fulbright.infusion@gmail.com FULBRIGHT WEB http://fulbright.or.kr FACEBOOK /fulbrightkoreainfusion INSTAGRAM fulbrightkoreainfusion If you wish to contact Fulbright Korea, please email executive.assistant@fulbright.or.kr or call 82-2-3275-4000. The Fulbright Program aims to increase mutual understanding between the people of the United States and other countries through cultural and educational exchange. The Korean-American Educational Commission in Seoul, widely known as the Korea Fulbright Commission, is governed by a Board consisting of equal numbers of Koreans and Americans representing governmental, educational and private sectors. The board makes decisions on overall policies of the Fulbright Program in Korea. The Fulbright Commission is not responsible for opinions expressed in The Fulbright Korea Infusion by individual contributors nor do these in any way reflect official Fulbright Commission policy. The contents of this publication may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission from the contributor and from the Korea Fulbright Commission. Published by Asia Korea Printing, Inc.