South Korea
The ladies in the library can't believe me at first.
"You're going where?"
South Korea.
"Why would you go there?"
To teach English and pay off loans.
"Do you know anyone over there?"
No, not really.
"Do you speak the language?"
I can say thank you.
The librarians are shocked. In this moment, they resemble a group of wizened cats, cocking their spectacled faces in curiosity as they consider me. They share a glance before asking, "How do your parents feel about this?"
Oh, they're fine with it.
The bookish ladies shake their heads at me, grey hair swaying behind their ears as they exchange looks again. I try not to laugh.
The JBU librarians' reaction does not surprise me. After being their workstudy for three years in college, I suppose they feel a certain sense of protective instinct. I am used to their questions, truth be told. Everyone has the same ones, and I sometimes wonder if people are worried I haven't thought about these things. Believe me, I have.
Before applying to the group Teach ESL Korea, I mentally reviewed all the reasons why going would not be a good decision: none of my friends or family will be there, I don't know the language, I've never taught English before. There were other reasons not to go, as well. Teaching piano has proven to be something that inspires and challenges me as a person and musician. I could easily stay, teach 40+ students every week, work as an accompanist for a small women's group, and play for church services, all of which are good things. I am growing as a piano teacher, becoming more sure of what I want to study in grad school, and loving the fact that I can measure my students' progress. Going somewhere for a year where my chances of playing and studying the art of piano will be limited seems counterintuitive.
Yet, for every reason not to go there are equally good reasons for why I should go: the money will help me pay off my undergrad loans, I will be able to travel, teaching overseas looks good on a resume, the experience will help me grow and develop, I will have stimulating experiences living in another culture (believe me, the stimulating experiences seem to have all about dried up in Arkansas), and on and on the list goes.
I would be lying if I said this upcoming experience was something I wanted from the get go. It wasn't. When my sister brought it up, it sounded like a scam. Then I did my research: read blogs, articles about teaching abroad, posts about South Korean ESL jobs, and asked anyone who had lived there a whole lot of questions. Eventually, I decided to try it because the pros outweighed all of the cons.
Anne Lamott, that wonderful, crazy, colorful woman, writes,"If we stay where we are, where we're stuck, where we're comfortable and safe, we die there. We become like mushrooms, living in the dark, with poop up to our chins. If you want to know only what you already know, you're dying. You're saying: Leave me alone; I don't mind this little rathole. It's warm and dry. Really, it's fine." Whenever I think of whether or not I should do this, I come back to this quote. There is something very motivating about the thought of being stuck in a rathole, and digging my way out of its warmth to the invigorating reality of new experiences. I won't be alone. Jesus is with me to the ends of the earth. That is enough for me.
"You're going where?"
South Korea.
"Why would you go there?"
To teach English and pay off loans.
"Do you know anyone over there?"
No, not really.
"Do you speak the language?"
I can say thank you.
The librarians are shocked. In this moment, they resemble a group of wizened cats, cocking their spectacled faces in curiosity as they consider me. They share a glance before asking, "How do your parents feel about this?"
Oh, they're fine with it.
The bookish ladies shake their heads at me, grey hair swaying behind their ears as they exchange looks again. I try not to laugh.
The JBU librarians' reaction does not surprise me. After being their workstudy for three years in college, I suppose they feel a certain sense of protective instinct. I am used to their questions, truth be told. Everyone has the same ones, and I sometimes wonder if people are worried I haven't thought about these things. Believe me, I have.
Before applying to the group Teach ESL Korea, I mentally reviewed all the reasons why going would not be a good decision: none of my friends or family will be there, I don't know the language, I've never taught English before. There were other reasons not to go, as well. Teaching piano has proven to be something that inspires and challenges me as a person and musician. I could easily stay, teach 40+ students every week, work as an accompanist for a small women's group, and play for church services, all of which are good things. I am growing as a piano teacher, becoming more sure of what I want to study in grad school, and loving the fact that I can measure my students' progress. Going somewhere for a year where my chances of playing and studying the art of piano will be limited seems counterintuitive.
Yet, for every reason not to go there are equally good reasons for why I should go: the money will help me pay off my undergrad loans, I will be able to travel, teaching overseas looks good on a resume, the experience will help me grow and develop, I will have stimulating experiences living in another culture (believe me, the stimulating experiences seem to have all about dried up in Arkansas), and on and on the list goes.
I would be lying if I said this upcoming experience was something I wanted from the get go. It wasn't. When my sister brought it up, it sounded like a scam. Then I did my research: read blogs, articles about teaching abroad, posts about South Korean ESL jobs, and asked anyone who had lived there a whole lot of questions. Eventually, I decided to try it because the pros outweighed all of the cons.
Anne Lamott, that wonderful, crazy, colorful woman, writes,"If we stay where we are, where we're stuck, where we're comfortable and safe, we die there. We become like mushrooms, living in the dark, with poop up to our chins. If you want to know only what you already know, you're dying. You're saying: Leave me alone; I don't mind this little rathole. It's warm and dry. Really, it's fine." Whenever I think of whether or not I should do this, I come back to this quote. There is something very motivating about the thought of being stuck in a rathole, and digging my way out of its warmth to the invigorating reality of new experiences. I won't be alone. Jesus is with me to the ends of the earth. That is enough for me.
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