Gangnam

Do you remember the National Geographic videos of the poor little baby bird being pushed out of the nest? It has two options as it plummets to the ground; either learn to fly in the next five seconds, or crash. I am that bird, and this is where my real life in Korea starts.

After a really great week of training and getting to know 160 other people in the bubble of the Hyundai Learning Center, we were whisked away by our supervisors to the district office of our respective areas. I got on the bus with 15 other people who were going to the Gangnam District (pronounced Kongnom). Gangnam is said to be the richest district in Seoul, and it is referred to as Beverly Hills. But so far I haven't seen any mansions, so my guess is that it's more like the penthouse life of Chicago. At the district office, we were told to wait for our co-teachers to come and fetch us. One by one, the people who had become my comfort zone were being pushed out of the nest until, at last, my supervisor arrived. Thankfully, I found out earlier that the school that hired me also hired another teacher, Kyla, at the same time, so I wasn't being whisked away alone. Kyla seems like a really great person. She's fresh out of college, has lots of energy, and is very kind. She even carried some of my luggage!

Lise, the supervisor, who speaks English almost like a Westerner, hit us with tons of information in the car as she ate her pistachio ice cream cone from Baskin Robins. First of all, the school, Gyeseong Elementary, is a private Catholic school. That one hit me hard because I feel like my calling is to the public schools, not to private, but I have to get over it because God knows what He's doing. The school is more that 120 years old, though the building is brand new, and it is the most prestigious school in Gangnam, and perhaps all of Seoul. She gave us a short tour of the school and I felt like I was walking through a Lake Forest school. It was far too big to go through the whole thing, but get this, there is a teacher's lounge for the regular subject teachers AND one for the English language teachers. Why? Because there are eleven of us in all! I don't know yet if that means that all of them are native English speakers, but that would be amazing.

Another kicker was that our contract is slightly different than a regular S.M.O.E. Contract (Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education). With them, the contract is twenty-two teaching hours, and here it's thirty, but we'll be compensated well. The next surprise was that my class size is going to be ten (I was expecting 35-40) and I will be teaching 2nd and 5th grade. That sounds fabulous to me! Plus, I will have my own classroom with a huge flat-screen TV, computer, and other goodies that I haven't seen yet. My students are going to be the “beyond” students, the ones who have very high English skills.

Next, I was taken to my apartment building. It's called S.R. Tower. I pretend it's Trump Tower. I'm on the 7th floor. Lise said that the nun who runs the school wanted to treat us well in hopes that we'd love it and want to come back. She also said that she was jealous because our accommodations were so nice. I'll post a picture of the building here, but I'll wait until everything is in order before I post the inside. My expectation was a small studio with barely enough room to get around. This is far different. It has a good-size bathroom, a walk-in closet (small but holy cow), tiny but nice kitchen, washer, big living/working space with TV/DVD, and a loft where my bed is along with a huge space for storage. My view is the roof of another building, but beyond that, I can see highrises.

But then Lise, Kyla, and the driver left, and I was that bird plummeting to the ground. I kept saying to myself, “I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry,” and I didn't, but I don't know what kind of accomplishment that was. I was hesitant to unpack because that would mean that I was living here. I was so excited all week to just get to the apartment and unpack, but in that moment, it was the most difficult thing in the world to do. I made it through one suitcase and then through another. I was starving but didn't know where to go for food. I ate one of my treasured fruit snacks from home and tried getting on the internet. When it logged on automatically, it was a moment of pure bliss until it asked for a user name and password.

The night seemed to drag on forever until I finally went to bed at 8:30. Yep, 8:30. This morning was a little better. It was weird getting out of bed in “my apartment,” the place I will be living for the next 51 weeks. I took a shower, did some laundry, almost cried when I realized I left some irreplaceable things at the training center, and went to the tiny market down the street to see if they had anything that I needed, which they sort of did, kind of.

I decided I was going to be brave and try to navigate the subway system with no formal training. I wanted very badly to go to church, and I thought I remembered reading that there was an English speaking one by Gangnam Station. The Seocho Station is just one block from me, and Gangnam is just two stops from that, so I knew it couldn't be too horrifying. It was hard, and the people weren't nice, but I think I could do it again. I never found the church, but I wandered around, feeling very much like I was in Chicago, searching anywhere for a store where I could buy a watch, and then getting back on the sub and going “home.” Then I wandered around my neighborhood, which is quite pretty, I must say. I stopped in every coffee house I could find to see if they had internet access. I finally found this quaint little shop, and here I sit, amking a mental note to never again order a green tea latte, and unsuccessfully fighting back the “What did I get myself into” tears. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I start my new job and meet new people, people who speak English and can be used as a resource and maybe even become a new friend. I am anxious to start a routine. I am lonely at this moment, but I know it won't last.

This bird needs to fly.