School: What to Expect

The general assumption of an American student when they go abroad is that their college classes will be easy. These students will be in for a rude awakening when it comes to classes in Korea.

For Koreans, studying is a way of life, because for them, taking tests is how one advances in society and determines their future success. Because of this test-taking society, classes are far more difficult than the average American is used to.

Most Korean universities base their class grades off of two tests—the mid-term and the final—, a class project, and attendance. These four things are what your entire semester is based on.

Tests will be difficult and require more intensive study than Americans are used to. As a studious student before I came to Korea, I was shocked by the amount of studying I was expected to put in to succeed in my classes. For mid-term and finals, don’t expect much, if any, sleep. Those precious hours need to be spent studying, memorizing every nook ad cranny of the notes and book.

Korean universities, or at least Korea University the university I attended, were very strict when it came to attendance. A student was allowed 5 absences before they were kicked out of class. Some teachers are even stricter. One of my teachers only allowed his students 2 absences. I was absent from his class one time because I was too sick to come to school. After this absence, he warned me that I only hada one absence left. My second absence was when I broke my foot and was literally unable to walk to class. He gave me a second warning never to miss his class again or I would fail. Both of these incidences, I told my professor that I would be unable to come to class, but as one can see, he was very strict.

But it’s not as bad as it seems.

Group projects are something that most Americans loathe as most of the time only one student does the work for the entire group. Americans will be happily surprised to learn that Koreans work well in groups and no one is left with all of the work.

Most grades are relative. This means, even if you make a 65 on a test, if the highest grade in the classes was, say, 67, congratulations, you just made an A.

The most important thing to do in order to succeed in Korean classes though is to become friends with your professors. Not only is a great contact to have a professor’s favor of you, but also, this liking leads to a better grade. Remember when I said the grades are relative. If your relationship with your professor is a good one, expect an A.

To form a relationship with your professor, visit with after class, go to their office and talk with them during office, buy them little treats, like snack from the bakery a small thing of tea or coffee. If a professor offers you side work, take it, it will work in your favor.

While classes might at first seem intimidating in Korea, in the end, they are great fun and a wonderful learning experience. Education standards are higher in Korea than they are in America; so expect to come back to America being bored in your classes. You might miss the thrill and valuable life experience of being challenged.

 

Readjustment

When you start calling a place home, it is difficult to forget what it taught you. After living in Korea for a year and a half, Korea became a place that left a deep impression on me and gave me habits that will never leave me. I never thought readjusting to American society would be so difficult.

Crowds I am used to, so trips to the mall or grocery store to pick up small things came with ease. It is things like driving and dressing that cause me the greatest trouble.

Crossing a street still takes 5 seconds of hesitation, making sure no one will run the red light and hit me. Traffic is now doable. I’m no longer constantly on edge for people looking for 5 feet to cut me off. But with every car’s swerve, I hold my breath, waiting for them to rush into my lane. I feel danger.

Dressing, I am finding, has become the hardest to get used to. There was not a day in Korea where I went without make-up. There was not a day where I did not dress my best to attend class or merely walk on the streets. But, amongst this sea of American students, I now stand out. My hair is neatly kept, a fresh layer of make-up is applied to my face, and of course, I am wearing fine clothes. I sit wearing these things amongst ranks of sweatshirt and pajama clad students. I am alone.

I walk through campus, amazed by the amount of space it takes up. Why does it need this much space? Why is it organized like this? Nothing flows. The buildings are harsh and obtuse, haphazardly placed throughout dusty ground with no consideration of how it fits in its surroundings. I cringe.

As I walk past campus food courts, I shudder, nearly pinching my nose shut. I am amazed at how fatty and fried the foods are. There is no consideration for health. The price shocks me even more. I can get a single sandwich for $5 whereas I used to be able to a get a full me with side dishes for $3. My wallet aches.

When classes begin, I find myself sighing with relief; there are quizzes AND homework assignments, not just 2 exams. I look at the students around me who groan about the course load, but I smile. I am a better student?

Korea is still in me. A month should have been enough time to adjust myself back into Western society, yet here I am, still stuck in the East. I am alone. I am singled out. I am special. I know the world. 

The Last Day

I didn’t really think about. With projects and finals crushing down on me, I didn’t even have time to think about. Sleepless nights, caffeine overload, a burst eye vessel from too much studying—so many things to make you go numb to what you’re supposed to be feeling.

I raised my head from my desk as my 5 a.m. alarm went off, warning me that I was stupid and fell asleep while studying. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes, and stretched, cramming for the last few precious hours I had before my last final. As I slipped on fresh clothes and packed up my bag, I looked at my table and saw my camera. In an instant, emotion ran to the back of my throat—today was my last day at Korea University.

I began cursing myself, angry that I let myself get so overwhelmed with school that I didn’t let myself enjoy the last few precious moments that I had at this wonderful place. Before running out the door, I quickly snatched my camera; I don’t know why, the day was grey and I would be meeting no one since they were just like me, too absorbed in their books.

Rushing to the bus, I ran through cold air, trying not to think about my final, and least of all, my time coming to a close. When I arrived at the school, I sat in the business lounge, like I had so many times before. Seated in a plush red chair, I looked around at the astounding room. Glass reaching the ceiling three stories high, couches and tables neatly aligned for comfort and efficiency, students leaning over papers, desperately cramming in the final minutes before their test. I breathed deeply. Would this be my last breath here?

When the final ended, I walked out of class, thinking of going straight to my bus stop so that I could go home and get some much needed sleep, but I paused as I took out my gloves. I wanted to stay here, just for a little bit longer. So I shoved my gloves back into my bag and began to walk down Korea University’s famous underground passage. With each step I took, I inhaled deeply and memorized every detail that I could.

Will I remember how my shoes clack on marble floors? Will I remember the smell of books from the libraries that line the hall? Will I remember the intricate patterns on the floor that I have ignored so many times before? Will I forget the frustration every time someone suddenly stops in front of me? As I reached the end of the hall, I looked back at the crowd of students behind me, desperately trying to get into a study lounge. Will this be the last time I see it?

I left the warmth of the underground to the harsh cold outside, but suddenly, it didn’t feel cold. I felt so warm. I looked around me as I watched students run to their final and couples meander down the street. I thought of the times when these people who I barely knew helped me in my times of need, people who barely knew me who would smile and talk to me when they saw I was alone, people who filled the university with the love and warmth that Korea is famous for.

As I walked around every last inch of campus, I remembered all the friends who I had met over the last year and a half. Who would I remember them 10 years from now? Who would remember me? Will I ever forget this place that I have called my home for so long?

I sat down at the bench near the main gate, looking at the gorgeous architecture that Korea University possessed, and began to be filled with bittersweet thoughts. My time here was been a blessing. The people I have met, the places I have been, I do not have the words to describe how wonderful they are. My life here has been nothing short of amazing, and I find myself shocked with how comfortable I am calling this place home. But…

Will I ever come back?

Breaking a Bone

Believe it or not, this not the first time I have a broken a bone in Korea. Nor is it the second. It is actually the 3^rd time. How is this possible? Quite honestly, I don’t have an answer to that. This post is about what to do when you break a bone in Korea.

We’ll start with my first experience, from last year when I feel down in the ice and broke my elbow. When I told my friends that my elbow was broken, they at first didn’t believe but soon came to realize that it was indeed broken. At the time, we had a Korean friend with us who doubted that my elbow was broken. He told me, even if it was broken, if I went to the emergency room at night (which it was then), then all the staff would do would be to put some ice on it, maybe a splint, and sending me home with a $300 bill. I didn’t believe him, but none of my friends would escort me to the hospital, so I had to wait until the morning until one of my friends who could translate could help me at the hospital.

I went to Korea University Hospital, which is one of the best hospitals in Korea (and was conviently right next to my dorm). They didn’t take my insurance card and I had to pay cash up front, about $200 (though my insurance would later reimburse me for this). The doctors took an x-ray, determined that yes, my elbow was indeed broken. I was fortunate because that day for elbow specialist was there, and I received excellent treatment when it came to fixing my elbow.

Fast-forward about 5 months, and I am 2 days from going home. I got knocked over by a man and ran my wrist into the counter, successfully breaking it. I refused to acknowledge to my friends that I had indeed broken my wrist and did not get it treated until I returned back to America.

For the most recent incident, I managed to break my ankle. Being the clumsy person I am, I was leaving a friend’s dormitory when I took a wrong step on some uneven cobblestone and came falling to the ground. I heard a nice, loud snap as I fell and instantly knew what had happened. The problem was that it was about 9 o’clock at night, and I remembered the story my Korean friend once told me. But I was in agony and knew that I needed to get to the hospital.

I was lucky enough to have two friends escort me to the hospital, the nearest being Korea University Hospital, whose support I appreciated greatly as we tried to navigate the way to the emergency room with the help of a Korean friend translating on the phone. When we finally arrived to the emergency room, we quickly realized that we wanted to leave. There was not a single doctor present, only interns who didn’t know what they were doing.

After playing with my ankle in many agonizing ways, I was finally sent to get an x-ray, but not before I shelled out $250 for it (my insurance wasn’t taken there). After my x-ray, an intern came out to greet me saying, “I can’t see a serious break, but I’m pretty sure you have a hairline fracture, but I can’t tell. So I’m going to put you in a splint and you need to come back in 5 days and see a real doctor so he can tell you if it’s broken or not.”

Silence hit the 3 of us as soon as those words left his lips. Alas, I was in agony and decided a splint was better than nothing. Before that though, I had to pay an additional $150 for said splint. After paying, I was escorted into the casting room where the same intern sat nervously looking at my foot.

Now, I’m not someone who’s weak to pain. I have a fairly high pain tolerance and can handle a lot more than most, so when I say it hurts, IT HURTS! I was sobbing and screaming in pain yelling “아파요!” (Apayo!, That hurts!), and “하지마!” (Hajima!, Stop it!), as the intern fumbled with my broken ankle. As I sobbed, I heard my friends cry, and I tried not to imagine the sight that the doctor and I were creating. Once finished, the doctor lopsidedly smiled at me and said, “Come back in 5 days,” before quickly leaving the room.

As the doctor left, I struggled to get up from my lying position. My wonderful friends were kind enough to help me sit up and held me as I, white with pain, began to sob, having endured one of the painful moments of my life.

The doctor came back shortly and handed me a prescription for pain medication. We were then directed to the pharmacy where they handed me my medicine. My friends asked for crutches for me, and the pharmacist looked at me, my right leg in a huge splint up to my knee, and frankly said, I didn’t need it.

As soon as my wonderful friends took me home in a cab and delivered me safely to my room, I realized how much I was really going to need those crutches, because even with the splint on, I could not put any weight onto my foot.

This became more of a challenge when I had to attend school, which I could not afford to miss because I had a midterm that Monday and strict attendance policies in my remaining classes.

On Wednesday, I volunteered at the Fire Department, helping them film a training video. Whilst there, the paramedics noticed my splint and pointed out to me what I already knew—the intern had put the splint on wrong. And with great generosity, the paramedics at the Seongbuk-gu fire station put on a new splint for me—for free.

So, if sick or injured, unless it is life threatening, DO NOT go to an emergency in Korea at night. Wait until morning, where the price will be cheaper, and there will be doctors present.

The Frailty of Human Life

Tragedy strikes in many ways. From the death of a goldfish when we are five to the death of a grandparent when we are teenagers, death is a tragedy that follows us wherever we go.

I was sitting in the study lounge at Korea University when a group project member walked in for our meeting. Her face was pale, and she was clearly shaken. She looked at me with moist eyes. I asked her what happened, and she only shook her head.

Moments before, she had witnessed a fellow Korea University student be hit and killed by the on-campus shuttle bus.

In one moment, there was a small girl walking to her next class, and the next there was a girl on an ambulance, struggling for her life.

Death teaches is many things. In this case, safety. The roads in South Korea are notoriously dangerous. The drivers don’t yield to you, you yield to them. At all times, you have to be alert, because not even the sidewalks are safe; motorcycle drivers regularly get on the sidewalk and expect you to move out of their way.

This brings up the importance of always being aware of your surroundings. Unlike at Texas Tech, where we are free to walk around with our iPods in and our eyes glued to our smart phones because we THINK the driver will stop for us, here it is just the opposite, we KNOW the driver will not.

The young girl’s death could have been prevented. When the bus hit her, she had been walking a across the street, playing with her phone. Being a small girl, she was already hard to see, and when she walked behind the bus, which was backing up, it was impossible for the driver to see her.

In instant she was with us, and in an instant, she was taken from us. Life is fragile, and can be gone as quickly as we blink. Think of safety wherever you go. Never assume the driver will stop for you or know you’re there. Yes, the driver is supposed to yield to you, but you should always yield to the driver. They may never see you.

To Grow a Rock

There is a saying in Asia, “Watch the rock grow.” Knowing this saying is integral to understanding the culture. For many westerners, the saying may be confusing because, after all, a rock does not grow.

Watching a rock grow means learning patience, as well as finding peace. You will learn patience by watching something that will not change, and find peace by learning patience.

There are many frustrations when it comes to moving to another country. Firstly, you are displacing yourself from something that you have known your entire life. Secondly, many of the cultures around the world are different from the one that you are used to. This usually leads to culture shock.

Culture shock comes in many different forms and affects every person differently. As much as I try to say that I am immune to culture shock, I am not. For example, I often times find myself frustrated in certain situations, a common symptom of culture shock.

Korean culture can come as a great shock to many westerners. Everything is done very last minute, and rarely is anything ever set in stone. Plans are made the day before or day of, and deadlines of contracts are almost never met. For instance, as I mentioned earlier in this blog, I was informed 1 week before I came to Korea that I had nowhere to live. In the west, this delay of notification would be unacceptable, but in Korea, it’s the norm, there is nothing wrong with informing someone of something last minute, even if it’s as important as telling someone that they have nowhere to live.

Other frustrations come from the general lack of organization. I had great difficulty registering for classes because everything was full and they weren’t letting any exchange students (who are the last to register) into any full classes like they previously had. I realized that when I got upset over this, that things change—nothing will every stay the same.

I fully realized that when I had to go to the immigration office to apply for my alien registration card. Having been through the process once before, I made sure that I had all the proper forms with me, the exact same forms that I had brought with me the time before. After waiting in line for 2 ½ hours, I approached the desk only for the receptionist to tell me that one of my forms was wrong and that for a D-2 visa (student visa), a Certificate of Admission was no longer the proper form, and I now had to have a Certificate of Enrollment. “Sorry,” she said. “Just come back another time.” This meant that I would have to come back, miss my classes again, and wait in yet another long line. I wanted to cry, but one must learn patience to accept things as they are.

If something doesn’t happen in just the way you want it to, like you don’t get the classes that you want, or you’re frustrated that you have to walk everywhere. Stop. Take a moment. Find a rock and watch it grow.

Know that nothing will go as expected. Be prepared for what will or will not happen. Don’t get frustrated when things don’t go as planned. Learn to be fluid. Like a plant in a stream—bend with the current of the water.

Classes Begin

Classes have now begun! With my first two days of classes out of the way, it is now time to predetermine what my classes will be like (whee?).

First up, comes Operations Management. The class seems interesting and will certainly give me new perspectives on how the interworking of a business goes, but I’m a little worried because the professor speaks very softly. Thankfully, I’m sitting at the front of the class, so I should be able to hear most of what he says.

Next comes Financial Management. Now this is the class that I am most worried about. Even coming 30 minutes early to class, I was forced to sit 5 rows back (I’m a first 2 rows kind of person), and I can see why. I could barely hear the professor! I am immediately intimidated because the classroom, which is only supposed to for 50, is filled with 70 people, and I’m only 1 of 2 foreigners! While it will give me the chance to practice my Korean, it’s still intimidating. To add to the stress, the teacher announced just how hard the class will be—she expects us to fail!! She expects us to fail so much, that she’ll pass us almost no matter what. The only way to actually fail the class is to be in the bottom 5% of the class AND have below a 50. So if I had a 35, but am not in the bottom 5%, I still pass. While this gives me some comfort, I now know that I will need to do some serious studying for this class. I’m thankful that one of my roommates is studying for her CPA exam, because I have a feeling that I’ll be asking her a lot of questions.

After Financial Management comes Marketing Strategy. One of my passions is marketing, so I know that I’ll enjoy the class just because of that. I’m also excited because the professor is engaging, and we’ll get to design 2 products throughout the course of the class (always my favorite kind of project).

Finally, my last class in Beginners Korean 2. I’m actually a little upset about this one because I was hoping to place into Intermediate 1 since I studied Korean all summer. I seriously underestimated how hard the placement test was going to be, because I only understood about 10% of what was on the test. So in one sense, I’m sad that I’m a place lower than I want to be, but at the same time, I’m glad that I’m not biting off more than I can chew. The professor for my class though is going to be great. He’s very passionate about helping us learn to speak Korean and wants to make learning the language as fun as possible (because, in his words, “What’s fun about learning a language?”).

I’m very disappointed that I’m taking 12 hours instead of 15, but all of the classes were full by the time exchange students were allowed to register, and unlike previous semesters, they wouldn’t let exchange students into full classes. So, even though I literally had 10 alternative classes lined up, every single one of them was full. Even the extra Korean classes (like colloquial (modern) Korean, speaking Korean, and writing Korean) were full!

On the bright side of the first day of classes is the meeting a Korea University professor (not one of my teaching professors). Korean students dress for class, and since I’m in another country I follow the saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” This effort paid off when I met the professor. We talked and he treated me to coffee (Korean tradition for the senior to treat the junior). While drinking our coffee, I practiced my Korean conversation with him, and, impressed, he asked me to meet him and some of his students for dinner next week so that we could all do language exchange. I am very excited for this new contact, as well as meeting new students to do language exchange with.

Despite my disappointment when it came to registering for classes, it seems that I’ll have a fun time this semester. I’m just going to need to study hard and keep my energy up!