Hagwons, Heli-Tiger Moms and Korean Suicide

When it comes to children and their quality of life, the heli-tiger hagwon moms never fail to amaze me in their seeming indifference toward the suffering of their children.

Working in the industry, I’ve seen firsthand the spirit-crushing results of their insatiable demand for more education: Long hours in hagwons; even longer hours of homework; kids passing out from lack of sleep; kids who have just stopped trying; kids who only put effort into cheating. I even had one student tell me she wished she had never been born because her life was a constant cycle of homework and test prep.

For the hapless hagwon owner, interactions with the heli-tiger moms are a regular, if slightly irritating, occurrence.  “My kid doesn’t have enough homework,” or “My child should be in a higher level,” are stereotypes to anyone who’s taught in a hagwon for a couple of months.  At my previous job, a mother had her kid secretly time teachers with a stopwatch, then asked for (and received!) a discount based on time not spent teaching.  All of these are perhaps justifiable.

After what I heard today, perhaps “seeming indifference” is giving too much credit to some of these moms.  We received a complaint over the phone that two fourth-grade children in a class together are coming home in “too good of a mood.”  Apparently we aren’t doing a good job as a hagwon because children are still happy after three hours in our classrooms.  (I’m as surprised as they are.)

Think of it:  The mothers of these two boys sat down at Tom n’ Tom’s for cappucinos and made a joint decision that their boys’ light-hearted moods warranted intervention.  How does this even come up in conversation?

Mom A: “Have you noticed anything odd about your boy, lately?”

Mom B: “I’ve noticed that he smiles when he comes home from academy. I think something might be wrong with his education. What kind of teacher leaves children in a good mood?  And what kind of academy allows such teaching methods to continue unchecked?”

Mom A: “It’s like you’re reading my mind!  Tuesdays and Thursdays, my boy’s got a hop in his step and a twinkle in his eye — unbecoming traits for the future CEO of Samsung.  I thought maybe I was doing something wrong at home, but clearly it’s the fault of his academy.  I will call them when I get home.  Happiness is all well and good for an executive at Doosan, but we’re not paying first-tier money for second-tier employment.  If nothing else, maybe we can get a discount.

In stroke of serendipity, Ask a Korean! is discussing the country’s notoriously high suicide rate this week, and that extends to youths as well.  I know correlation does not equal causation, but there’s enough evidence to put the theory forward.

–Daniel Daugherty

Two-Year Contracts: Coming to a Hagwon Near You?

I heard a rumor the other day that might have huge consequences for the Korean EFL job market.  A fellow former-employee of Avalon English+ informed me that, per her director, the company is going to start offering two-year contracts to foreign teachers.

I spoke to two recruiting companies who deal with Avalon and neither has negotiated a two-year contract so far, so this may be specific only to the Imae branch, or nothing but a rumor.  However, Reuben Zuidhof, CEO of the recruiting agency Adventure Teaching, did suggest that it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Avalon HR representatives did not return calls.

“Would be a huge task, but one I think you’ll see in the years to come,” he said in an email.

Indeed, two-year contracts may be the hagwon industry’s attempt to bring down a high turnover rate.  My former head teacher at Avalon Sunae branch, Naved Ali, mentioned that corporate HR sought advice from head teachers throughout the company on how to retain foreign staff, although he declined to put his response on the record.

The possibility of two-year contracts leads to a few other questions:

1. How will it affect Avalon’s success at attracting foreign talent?  Two years is a bit more of a commitment for many EFL teachers here, considering that most are using the experience as a gap year after graduating from university.  Why would anyone sign on for two years in a strange country they’ve never visited, for a job they know they are probably not qualified to do?  Remember how nervous Jen and I were?
   
2. What will it signal to other hagwons?  Given Avalon’s big-dog status in the hagwon-osphere, such a big move could be taken as a sign by other English academies to follow suit.  If Avalon has trouble attracting foreign talent, it won’t matter once Topia and Chungdahm  institute similar policies.  These companies set the standards for everyone else.
3. What other staples of the “standard” Korean TEFL contract would change?   Will teachers still get a one-month severance bonus?  Will they get proper vacation guarantees?  If companies are asking for double the commitment from teachers, are they willing to give teachers double the anything?

Two-year contracts ” would change the industry and the quality of teachers who come,” says Zuidhof.  As of this writing, he hasn’t elaborated on this statement.  Any further clarification will come in an update to this post. “I think the teacher quality would get better simply because you’d be getting teachers who are more committed to teaching, learning the system, and (hopefully) engaging with the culture.”

I’d love to hear what readers think.  Has anyone else heard this rumor?  Would you come here on a two-year contract?    What kind of benefits would sweeten the deal for you?

–Daniel Daugherty

Full disclosure: Daniel used Adventure Teaching’s services to get his first job placement in Korea, at Avalon English+.

Some Weekend Links

Thought I’d share a few links I found while checking my “Korea” news feed this morning.

The Waygook Effect posted a “Top” 10 list of the worst English dialogue videos used in Korean public schools.  Believe it or not, they get weirder than this one:

Barack Obama continues to wax hopeful about Korean education standards.  He recently praised Korean students‘ math and science achievements.

Quoth the prez:

In South Korea, teachers are known as nation builders. I think it’s time we treated our teachers with the same level of respect right here in the United States of America.

No one who’s ever set foot in a hagwon would say that.

As for their apparent superiority at science?  Whatever.  Americans might be too stupid to understand evolution, but Koreans still believe in fan death.

-Daniel Daugherty

Feeling Wanted: Searching for ESL Jobs in Korea

Job searches suck for the same reason that some people hate being single. It’s a lot of effort with no guaranteed results and a better-than-average chance of destroying your self-esteem.  You gotta spiff up your resumé — always uplifting — read through hundreds of listings, write original cover letters, hope you actually get called back and — depending on the job and how badly you need a paycheck — feign enthusiasm during your interview.

Finding work in Korea is almost this easy.

Of course, you’re lucky if you even get called back.  After a couple weeks with nothing to show for your efforts, this routine  can decrease one’s sense of self worth — or increase one’s sense of self loathing.

When you finally get an offer, you’re so desperate to end this cycle of rejection that you quickly settle for yet another job that will probably fail to fulfill your personal needs and ambitions but successfully reinforces what you took away from your college readings of Marx and Gramsci.

For me, though, the job-search blues are a thing of the past. I am an ESL teacher in Korea and I’ve never felt more important.

Not to have a big head about it, but I am a pretty desirable candidate for most hagwon jobs. In Korea, white privilege benefits even more than it has in the US. But besides being white and green-eyed, I possess a Master’s degree and have a year of experience living and working in a hagwon.  This makes me:

a) Marketable to parents who want their children taught by Americans who value education

b) Less of a gamble for the hagwon owners

The first one is marketing but the second one is smart spending.  Foreign teachers are the highest paid employees with the best benefits, but we’re also high-risk employees. Why take a chance on some foreigner who’s never been to Korea and has a legit chance of quitting mid-contract because he/she doesn’t like the food or know how to get along in Korean culture?  It’s much safer to roll with someone who’s already completed a yearlong contract.

The result for me has been same-day responses from recruiting companies and hagwons. I’ve gotten so many replies that I lost track of who I’d been in touch with and the details of each job.  I’ve even gotten calls and emails from recruiters who I’ve never contacted.  Now I know what it’s like to be a large-breasted female on MySpace.

The downside is that job interviews have monopolized most of my free time.  The upside is that I’ve been offered a position on upwards of 90 percent of them, usually the same day of the interview.

With most of them I’m glad I didn’t accept.  Online communities like theyeogiyo.com and Dave’s ESL Cafe were helpful places to get information about the companies and branch offices  I applied to.  After learning about their reputations or specific instances of employee abuse, I declined interviews with several potential employers.  Other jobs were previously held by friends and acquaintances I’ve met here in Bundang.  Two jobs that seemed really promising during the interview looked a lot different after getting an insider’s perspective.

As of this posting, I seem to have a good gig lined up, teaching at a kindergarten in Jukjeon.  Now I’m just waiting to hear back about getting a furnished apartment.  Between that and my salary demands, they may decide I’m too expensive.  Stay tuned.

-Daniel Daugherty

Racism, Robots and Marketing: TEFL in Korea

I always joke that my employer, Avalon English, is like the Fawlty Towers of educational institutions.  All matters related to product quality, education and worker efficiency eventually come down to marketing and the school’s image.  The company will fall all over itself to maintain or improve an image of quality and prestige, often sacrificing both in the process.

E-Writing is a fine example.  Some parents pay extra money for the privilege of having their children submit weekly essays via the Internet.  I am required to hand out semi-related worksheets to all students who aren’t enrolled in the program, part of a guerrilla marketing campaign to get Mom and Dad to ask “What’s this E-Writing all about?”  This is no doubt touted as a great technological whizz-bang fix-all for their child’s poor ability to organize thoughts with a pencil.  After all, it uses computers!

What parents actually pay for is the privilege for their children to type into a box and click “submit.”  There are few formatting options and the only thing that seems to matter is word count, which is automatically tracked.  There’s  not even a basic spell-check function.

After submitting, the essays are read by an anonymous, likely underpaid, individual in the Philippines.  Though I’m the writing teacher, I cannot access the essays.  You figure it out.

With that in mind, you shouldn’t be too shocked by the latest technological “advancement” coming to ESL classrooms in Korea.  Thirty ESL “robots” are now employed as teachers in Daegu.  Obligatory:  The Simpsons did it!

"No, Juho. 'Linguo IS dead.'"

The “robot” — technically, it’s a remote-controlled automotive computer shaped like a person — reflects another cultural idiosyncrasy tied to marketing:  The preference for white European features.  Like the essays I’ll never grade, it’s controlled by a teacher in the Philippines, but it displays a white female on a monitor intended to be its face.

It's only a matter of time until students throw food at Engkey.

No pun intended, here’s the money quote from Sagong Seong-Dae, a senior scientist the Korean Institute for Science and Technology:  “Well-educated, experienced Filipino teachers are far cheaper than their counterparts elsewhere, including South Korea.”

The fact of the matter is that there are ESL teachers around the world who are much more qualified than I am.  However, skin color trumps all.  Are Koreans racist against non-white people?  I’m not sure.  It’s more likely that hagwons just want to promote an image of American-ness, which they perceive as white, blonde-haired and square-chinned.

The JoongAng Daily‘s take seems to confirm my impressions:

The biggest source of the current problem with foreign teachers lies in English-teaching institutes that hire teachers without careful review. Many profit-driven institutes have been employing as many Caucasian English teachers as possible without conducting thorough checks because the marketing benefits from such practice outweigh the long-term side effects.

Claims of racist hiring practices are common among foreigners and it’s usually attributed to widespread racism among Korean people.  It doesn’t help this perception when we all have to provide photographs with our resumes.  Whether or not the racism is conscious or systemic, it’s real.  Check out this excerpted letter Khadijah Anderson received from a recruiter:

Thanks for your email. I’m a former black teacher so whenever we get black applicants I like to cut right to the chase. At the moment we only have one position in Ulsan that is open to hiring black teachers. You’ve been here a while so you know the discrimination that exists in Korea.  Once in a while we get Seoul positions for black candidates but it is a rarity.

I do think there’s a reasonable expectation of conscious individual racism here because this is one of the most ethnically homogeneous countries on the planet, but this doesn’t reflect my — admittedly white — personal experience.  In my Avalon branch we peaked at eight foreign teachers.  Of those eight, four were non-white and included individuals of Japanese, Pakistani, Argentinian and black ethnic backgrounds.  Whether any of us are actually qualified to teach English is another matter.

It looks like the Korean government might be trying to lead a change toward meritocracy, though.  Per Brian Deutsch, EPIK, a program for hiring public school teachers, seeks to hire Indian foreign teachers.

-Daniel Daugherty

Update: Fixed the Linguo photograph, which wasn’t loading.  I also changed the wording around Khadijah Anderson’s letter, which made it sound like she was accusing all Koreans of being racist.  To clarify, the letter was a surprise because she has had a positive personal experience as a black female in Korea.

Update 2: Corrected spelling of Ms. Anderson’s first name

South Korea: Where a kid can’t be a kid

Note: I guess the novelty of living in a foreign country has worn off a bit. I don’t see something I can consider weird or noteworthy every time I leave the house, so my posts depend on how long it takes for bigger ideas to bubble to the surface. This post has been percolating for a while.

In case we haven’t made it clear in previous posts, private English education is big business here in Korea. The schools are called “academies,” or “hagwon,” and can have many different subjects. There are math academies, science academies, language academies, sport academies, etc. It seems like there’s an academy on almost every block in Bundang. I work for a well known national chain of English academies and its latest marketing strategy is to promote an image of caring for each and every student.

This marketing effort means extra work for my coworkers and I. We must call every student on the phone, to say hello and gauge their conversation skills, as well as pull every student out of class to praise and encourage them. We also have to enter some of this information into a computer so their parents can see that we talked to them. See? Proof that we care!

Whatever. I do what my contract tells me I gotta do. I wasn’t excited about calling up students to make awkward conversation — what kid wants to talk to a teacher on the phone? I decided to make the best of it.  Unless you are a Czech telemarketer, how often do you get to call a wide range of people at their homes in another country?  If nothing else, this was a chance to learn about kids’ lives.

Before I go further, I want to emphasize that I am not in any way claiming the superiority of the US or non-Confucian educational standards and institutions, nor the state of intellectualism within such cultures. If you’ve followed the Texas school board flap, it’s obvious that we have our own systemic problems, such as a significant portion of the population who lacks a basic understanding of science (– I’ll leave it at science). Also, beware that macro-scale assumptions might be made based on a micro-level observation of hagwon students in one neighborhood of an especially affluent city.

The first thing I noticed that was odd was the time of day in which I was to make these calls. Children come to our academy after school, so our work day starts at 2:30 pm and ends after 9. To make sure we get all our calls made, we usually stay until 10-ish. Eight, nine and 10-year-olds are not only awake at 10 pm, they also take phone calls! The parents don’t even think it’s strange. That’s just our youngest kids – older students, who leave at 9 pm, might not get in the door until almost 10.

As I talked to the children, I would ask them how they like our school, how they like my class, etc. Nearly all said they didn’t like it. The top reason? Detention. Even my best-behaved students listed detention as their number one complaint. Why? It turns out they must memorize 20 new vocabulary words before each day of classes at our school. If they fail this daily test, given by their Korean teachers, they get detention(!).

The amount of homework these kids have to do is staggering, but I’m told their parents actually demand more of it. I’m unofficially required to assign homework for every class period, every day. If we get through all our material for the day, I’m still supposed to post an assignment online so the parents can log on and see that homework was assigned.

My students haven’t even entered the middle school meat grinder and they are already pushed to extreme amounts of work and study. The 1980s apparently came with great reforms in the education system, but it doesn’t seem to have affected this generation of kids.  They don’t have time to be kids.

The call that really got to me was to a student called Alice, after 10 pm. When she answered the phone, she sounded tired and annoyed. Once she realized it was her teacher from school, she tried her best to be polite but she still sounded like I’d woken her up. I asked if she had been sleeping, but she said she was studying for history. She wouldn’t go to sleep until after midnight.

Her daily schedule is roughly like this: Wake up and go to school, then two afternoon academies, then home study until she can’t keep her eyes open. She only comes to our academy a few days a week. On other days she’s at a different one.  This is the norm among my students.

After that call, I began asking all my students how late they will be awake studying. The latest was 2 am, but midnight or 1 am were more common bedtimes. I thought I was just bad at teaching, but now I understand why so many kids just put their heads down on their desks or sneak food in class – they don’t get enough of either. (Alas, the question remains open as to my teaching skills.)

After all this, you’d think Korean parents are sadistic and don’t care about their childrens’ wellbeing. Ironically, the opposite is true. Remember Lenny from “Of Mice and Men”? He loved his pet mice so much that he hugged them to death.

From my Lonely Planet- and Wikipedia-derived understanding of Korean culture and society, this happens for two reasons. First is the deeply ingrained Confucian mindset which places a high value on education as a form of personal and social betterment. This is taken to an absurd end: If your child stays awake all night studying and losing sleep in the process, you are a great parent for instilling him or her with a moral value.

Second is the intense level of competition for economic success. A degree is essential to being considered “middle class.” Parents want their children to earn a place at one of Korea’s three prestigious universities, or even better, an Ivy League school in the US. My students routinely tell me how they plan on going to Harvard, Yale or Dartmouth and when out in public, I commonly see knockoff hats and shirts with the names of various Ivy League institutions.

My coworkers have differing opinions on how to deal with the situation. Some say, “Fuck it. The kids are in this system and they’re expected to do the homework and deal with the stress, so I’m going to assign it and not feel bad.” This was my initial attitude but it’s becoming much more difficult to maintain. Especially after I learned that South Korean teenagers are the least happy in the developed world.  Jen doesn’t believe it because her kindergarteners seem so full of the joy of life.  I tell her they’re too young – they haven’t had their spirits crushed by the system yet.

Of course, this system has its positives too.  In most areas of study, my students have much more knowledge of the world than their American counterparts.  This mindset also pervades their hobbies — kids practice and hone their skills with a shocking degree of discipline, whether it’s playing violin or second base.  They take things seriously — though one can argue for inclusion of the word “too” in that statement.

Now I’m trying to find a more balanced approach to assigning homework and making class bearable, at least for my older kids. With my phone calls and hallway counseling, I make a point to extend my hand and offer support and help. My older students have my email address and phone number and I tell them to get in touch, whether they need help with an assignment or just want to rant. This may backfire or cause its own set of problems, but I’ve actually received a frustrated email rant over a difficult textbook.

I try to make them understand that I see them as more than book-reading automatons. At least one class gets it and their in-class behavior has improved dramatically. On the other hand, another class exploits this and has devolved to the point where if I want them to learn at all, I have no choice but to participate in the crushing of their souls.

I’m sure that where I live and work contributes to the situation. Everyone tells me that Bundang is known as one of the richest cities in the country, so it’s populated by people who believe in the system because they’ve come out near the top. If children achieve anything less than their parents here, it would be looked down upon.

The end result of this system is an alarming teenage suicide rate, as well as the highest overall suicide rate among OECD countries. I suspect it’s helped by the widespread, but laughably pitiful, delusion of money as guarantor of happiness. More than one of my students has asserted this belief, which I assume comes from parents and other cultural institutions. For example, the Business section of one Korean-language newspaper has an English title: “Money and Riches.”  Despite the differences in education systems and underlying social philosophies, the lust for money makes this place feel eerily similar to the US.

At the end of the day, I can’t change the system, nor do I want to.  That’s for Korean people to do, and many are seeking that change.  I do care about my students, though, and I want them to enjoy learning English.  Assigning them more homework, then calling them to interrupt their studies, seems like the wrong way to go about it.

I’d love to hear from Koreans or other teachers in the comments — am I way off base here?

-Daniel Daugherty

The amount of homework these kids have to do is staggering, but I’m told their parents demand more of it. I’m unofficially required to assign homework for every class period, every day. If we get through all our material for the day, I’m still supposed to post an assignment online so the parents can log on and see that homework was assigned.