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.

 

The Final Adventure

They that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. For me, this didn’t happen—I just began to say my goodbyes.

Two weeks before my flight home, I began having very vivid dreams of a plane crash. Not one to be paranoid, I chalked the dreams up to stress and didn’t think anything more of them. Nonetheless, while my plane was still at the gate, I said a little prayer to God asking for a safe flight home.

Having been a frequent flyer my entire life, flying is not something scares me. So when the plane experiences turbulence, I merely shake it off, and think nothing of it, often times laughing a little at those who fear a little bump. So, when I become terrified of turbulence, it’s not a little thing.

When my flight reached the halfway point, we began to experience turbulence. I noticed that the turbulence was more severe than normal, and became a little worried, simply because of my haunting nightmares, but I told myself, “Cowboy up,” and continued watching the in-flight entertainment. The turbulence got more severe though, to the point where I was concerned. This concern was heightened when I saw flight attendants not walking, but running to their seats. I can tell you as a frequent flyer that this is not a settling sight.

The turbulence continued to get more severe, and I began to clutch my armrests for dear life. It was then I realized how severe the situation was—a flight attendant took a spot by the emergency exit. I looked to my right, to the Korean pastor sitting by my side. I found comfort in that there was a man of God sitting next to me in what might be my final moments.

As the turbulence continued, I began to pray again, telling God that I was not ready to die; I just wanted to see my family on Christmas. And then—freefall. What felt like 7 seconds was probably in reality only 1 or 2, but it was enough time for me to stop thinking about not wanting to die, and I began saying good-bye.

Yes, there were screams. I’m sure I was screaming, too. When the freefall stopped, I felt that my face was wet with tears. I wasn’t sure when I began to cry. The turbulence continued, and I prayed that we would not have another freefall. Today was Christmas and I just wanted to see my family.

After another 20 or so minutes of turbulence, the plane finally evened out after rerouting itself. I unclamped my hands from the armrest, fingers now cramped, hands now white. Around me, several people got up to use the restroom for they had soiled their pants. I was surprised I hadn’t.

I looked at the people around me, all of us still breathing heavy and wincing at every bump. It was then I noticed that my pinky was throbbing, and I took a look at it. It was now swollen and blue, and I realized that in my fear, I had broken my pinky by clamping down so hard on my armrests.

For the remainder of the flight, I instinctively grabbed my armrest at any bump. I noticed people wincing with every wrong movement of the plane. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that when we landed, I almost kissed the ground.

Now I sit in the San Francisco airport, waiting for my next flight. I’ve never been one who is afraid of flying, but now, I don’t know if I can bring myself to board. 

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.