Barbie Teacher is Monkey!

I am a fairly compensated Talking Monkey. Even my students think so.

I’ll be the first to admit that my job entails very little in the way of skill. If my occasional peak at message boards frequented by other English teachers in Korea is anything to go by, one doesn’t even need a working knowledge of the English language. The check list of qualifications required to teach English at your typical hagwon in Korea is looks something like this:

1 - Are you from Korea? No? Fantastic.
2 - Are you whiter than white? No? Look into purchasing some whitening cream and you’re temporarily forgiven. Good news! In Korea, there is whitening cream in everything, from your facial moisturizer to the dye in your clothing.
3 - Can you speak something that at least sounds somewhat like English? Oui? Fabulous!
4 - Do you have a university degree, or at least a shiny piece of paper that kind of looks like it could be? Yes? Super!
5 - Do you have any interest in teaching? Not particularly, but you’re awfully fond of money? Sold!

Higher paying jobs and those which offer more vacation time tend to be a little pickier than your typical hagwon. They may actually be interested in knowing that you can spell, too. I’ve heard of some institutes that are interested in learning whether or not you’re a qualified educator, but they’re few and far between. The reality for most foreigners teaching English in Korea is that we really are Talking Monkeys. Our job is to provide a foreign presence. If one decides to go above and beyond that and actually take their role as an educator seriously, that’s fantastic. If one thinks that this is lame and would rather stumble into their 8am classes only two hours removed from a serious drinking binge, the sad reality is that they’re probably not going to get fired. As long as they show up on time, they may not even get criticized.

I know my place here. I know that while I chose to arrive at the hagwon half an hour before class, to not drink during the week, and to prepare each lesson, that the vast majority of the time my efforts will go unnoticed. I don’t take my job seriously because I’m vainly searching for praise; I do it because I wouldn’t respect myself otherwise.

Each Wednesday, I begin the day with eight screaming six year olds. They’re just darling. It’s an introductory class, so I spend a good deal of time miming as I speak. The Talking Monkey becomes the Dancing Monkey. It’s a good deal of fun, so I don’t really mind.

On this particular Wednesday, the children weren’t too keen on listening. The activity that we were working through required them to repeat what I said, and nothing more. They so weren’t feeling it, and blabbered at one another in Korean. Dancing Monkey time! I ordered the class to be quiet, and announced that it was time to listen, while grabbing at my ear. Body language excellence! Belle Student either misunderstood my message, or hates me a whole lot. Seeing me grab at my ear resulted in her breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. The giggling subsided shortly after, because breathing is important. After taking a moment to get some air, she grabbed both of her ears, screwed up her face and said: “Teacher Monkey! Ooo! Woo!” For her efforts, Belle Student won herself a free date in the hallway with Captain Nobody.

While Belle Student wasn’t exactly incorrect in her mockery, Barbie Teacher really doesn’t need six year olds to put her in her place. Even though I found Belle Student’s mockery of my actions rather amusing, I had to put on an Angry Face and feign indignation.