VI.Managing
I used to see him in the mid-sized supermarket in my neighbourhood where I lived and taught English. He was the tall and sturdy looking handsome young man with the calm and pleasant composure who spoke English somewhat.
Well, compared to others in the neighbourhood, who knew very few words, he spoke it well. He stood out that way and for other reasons.
I had been working at a private academy—they are usually after-school “institutes” for extra study in math, music or English, but this one was for adults—for nearly a couple of years. The neighbourhoods surrounding the residence leased for me by the academy were old and poor, with many people over-40 running the local businesses likely having had fewer opportunities to study.
The supermarket was actually a large independent grocer, as opposed to the tiny “supers” or the food floors of the big box “marts”. It was relatively new to the area, apparently, and served a few apartment complexes and the clusters of old pastel colour, plaster wall homes that seemed to tumble down the surrounding hillsides. There were many families in the area. The shop keepers and workers were usually the typical sort of humble yet spirited and charming middle aged folk that make up much of the laboring masses in South Korea. That is why the young, fresh-faced and English-speaking Jae Rim stood out.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Jae Rim one day, after introductions and a few exchanges of chit-chat over a few weeks.
“I’m a manager. It’s a good job.”
Jae Rim speaks laboriously but he gets the correct phrases out with the correct tenses, amid frequent pauses, slowly but surely. He understands and can answer. He hesitates between phrases in order to remember and formulate them but he is learning and can do it. He is progressing week by week and that is because of his constant self-learning, when he is not enrolled in formal English classes.
His family does not speak English with him, like most Korean families, but, like most Korean families, they recognize the value in their children learning English well today. They support his studies and have paid for him to get some immersion abroad in the US.
“I see. I mean, you seem well educated and your English is so good. I think you have lots of choices in life. Why do you do this work?”
“It is my uncle’s store. My family promised that I would help him for awhile. I can do something else later.” He smiles that winning smile.
“Do you like this work?”
“It’s not bad. I have a lot of responsibilities but it is not very stressful. I’m lucky that way. I think it is good career experience. Don’t worry. I get something out of this too.”
“Good. You’ve been to university, right? Have you finished a degree?”
“That’s right. No, I haven’t finished. I studied international commerce. I’d like to finish my degree and get my own business going some day.”
“I understand.”
“I supervise staff. I do the accounting. I keep it stocked up and I order the goods. There’s a lot to do. I’m not bored.”
“Very good, then. I’m glad you like it.”
“Can I talk with you sometimes? I like to practice English. I can treat you to a beverage. Would that be all right?”
“I would like that. I have time. You know, I often invite my students to practice with me outside of classes. I enjoy it.”
“Okay. Do you have a mobile?”
“Yes. Here. See the number?”
Jae Rim enters my number into his cell’s directory. “My English name is Jerry,” he says. “Jerry. It’s close to Jae Rim. That’s why I chose it. You can call me Jerry.”
“All right. Well, see you later.”
“See you later.”
We met occasionally for a few months. His English progressed. I recall one conversation we had at a coffee shop not far from the supermarket one morning.
“You seem to be trying hard at learning English well. How do you do it? I mean, do you attend an academy regularly?” I ask him.
“No, I started a long time ago but I dropped out because it’s kinda expensive. Anyway, I started working. I didn’t have time for it.”
“Then how do you keep it up?”
He looks at me blankly.
“That means, how do you keep learning? I’ve seen you around for a few months and you get better and better at speaking English. Do you study at home, by yourself I mean?”
“Oh, yes. ‘How do you keep it—‘.”
“Keep it up. How do you keep it up? How do you keep it up?
“How do you keep it up? Thank you. I study at home or in the library. Mostly at home, with the internet and books.”
“You
must be very diligent.”
“Dil-i-gent. Dil-i-gent?”
“Hard working.”
“Oh, right. Diligent. Yes, I study as much as I can.”
“How many hours do you put into studying each week?”
“Put in—“
“Put into doing something. How many hours do you put into studying each week? That means, how much time to you commit, like spend, on studying each week? ” I realize I could have made a simpler question and just asked, “How often do you study every week?” but I had kept slipping into idiomatic speech with him because he seemed to catch my meaning readily and naturally. I yearned for normal speech in English. I thought that he had a skill of appearing to know what was going on, which many second language speakers adopt, and since then I try to simplify my speech for him.
“I—put two hours—each week, I mean each day, usually. So I put about 14 hours each week. Well, at least 12.”
“That’s fantastic. You’re really motivated!”
This kind of exchange goes on once a week for several weeks. We are naturally curious about each other. He wants to know about my family and how I cope living alone in a strange country. I want to know something about his family and social life, and more about his career goals and ambitions.
“I don’t think that so many young North American men would be so dedicated—so diligent-- and content with working for a family business. I think many would feel resentful and impatient,” I tell him one day.
“Well, I don’t understand that. A Korean thinks, “What is my duty to the family? What do my elders want? What do the people who control my life want? They are kind and the family helps their children a lot. But there is a way of doing things. We accept it. Maybe we are not exactly satisfied but we do it out of “jung”. You know “jung”? It’s like love, we say.”
“Jung?”
“It’s like love for our family, our group. We don’t want to go against it. We accept. Maybe we don’t get to do what we want personally, and sometimes feel frustrated but that is life. We prefer to be loyal, do what is expected. That is good behavior. We don’t want to, what do you say, make waves. We don’t want to make waves. That is not good for anybody. We feel good being loyal and obedient, making the group happy by doing what they want and expect. We do a lot for that kind of love. It is jung. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think I get it,” I say. “Some westerners might say social love or social responsibility and feel gratified—feel good by caring about and helping others, especially family, friends and co-workers. Even strangers.”
“Koreans don’t feel like that about strangers. They do think about human rights. Well, many people do not like suffering, but I don’t think it is caring. It is duty. Yes, responsibility, and duty. We must be strong and do our duty.”
“Hm. Right. Our feeling, though, is not so much loyalty or obedience. We don’t think like that, I would say. I would say loyalty and obedience go against our idea of freedom and rights.”
“Yeah. Individualism. I know.”
“Yes, we think of individual first, then the group. But we have a sense of citizenship and duty to the society, the whole society, not just certain groups. That is the idea of compassion or empathy for others. The notion of human rights, collective or group rights, understands that a person should help others who need help, who have less or less ability.”
“I like human rights. We, my family, and I are Christian. We think we should help poor people. We like charity.”
“Do you think many Koreans think about, and value human rights? Sometimes I feel that some Koreans don’t care about strangers.”
“There are human rights groups and groups that help poor people. Mainly in the Christian Churches, I think.”
“Right.”
Jae Rim hesitates, then continues. “But maybe you’re right about citizenship. That’s a new idea. Even a dangerous idea. Koreans want more democracy.”
“Democracy has a long way to go everywhere.”
“Some English people, or native English speakers, don’t think much about nation. Some guys say they don’t care about it. But Koreans think about it. We like nationalism.”
“That’s because many people in (largely) English speaking countries have roots in other countries. The populations in Western countries are mixed. People have to or want to move around the world, and they want to go to the richer countries, of course. Rich countries, just like Korea, have low birth rates and even negative population growth so they want more people to come in. They want immigrants.”
“Immigrants.”
“Migrate in, immigrate. The people are migrants, or immigrants. And in North America, there were colonies and settlers came from everywhere. And the US and Canada are very big and there are regional identities too.”
“Right. It’s hard to imagine because Korea is different. The people are mostly the same, one country and one culture, except for a few foreigners.”
“I think there are a million foreigners out of the whole population of 48 million in the South.”
“That’s a small amount.”
“Well, Korea might be more mixed that you realize.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to say. Anyway, about nationalism. We learned about the negative results of nationalism. Nationalism can cause violence.”
“Nationalism makes the country strong and proud. Koreans feel passionate about being Korean.”
“Yes, but it can make divisions strong and cause conflict.”
“Korea nationalism can unite the divided country. Maybe.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. That’s a good kind of nationalism. There are different kinds. Or, nationalism works in some situations but not well in others.”
We had many such important discussions, each of us treading carefully so as not to hurt the other, holding back then dropping questions and comments here and there gingerly as much as etiquette combined with daring would allow our curiosity to operate.
I moved and took a job in another city and I still remember many of those conversations. They were helpful as much as they were touching and remarkable.
After my contract ended, I was fortunate enough to get a better position in a college. The college was in a different region, however.
I liked the job at the college. It was less work with more dignity.
At the academies, teachers had to work about 30 hours a week and teach up to 30 different classes to noisy and rambunctious kids of all ages. It was hectic and draining. Once I was spoiled by the relative comfort and ease of college teaching, there was no going back for me.
I therefore stayed put for a few years. At the college, I usually had four or five classes a term and took part of the winters and summers off, as the tradition of the annual academic cycle allowed. I would bask in the familiarity of my homeland and took trips around Asia to get a taste of other countries during such breaks, but I always returned.
There were still hardships, of course. For one thing, I continued to live alone. For another, I missed the children and their love and antics. I missed more lively company of the “hagwon” teachers and with its frequent social activities. For all its benefits, academic life is flawed by isolation. As political and competitive as it is, faculty strive to maintain collegiality but generally prefer to keep a safe distance. Perhaps academy staff draw inspiration from the children, for it seems they can live more boldly and carefree than their college-bound counterparts. They are not as afraid to be sociable.
College seems to be more conscious of the ticking of time and dangers of life. Academic life is steeped in fear, but it should be pointed out that college teachers tend to be older than academy teachers.
I was getting old. The change of life had come and gone. The men sought younger women. The opportunities for companionship appeared to be dwindling. I had to battle the doldrums of life and stave off morbid thoughts.
I had to adjust my thinking. There was less and less future left.
I was not sure where I was headed. I had found myself in the predicament of being a migrant even though I had never made up my mind to emigrate. Yet, here I was, resident in a land no longer foreign, as my homeland grew more and more distant on the horizon.
I was not sure I should be going anywhere, at least while I had a secure job. I was on a steady course to save money but I was getting more and more certain that there would be fewer things to spend it on as time went by.
I could say that, thanks to Korea, life had not been passing me by. I had been enjoying the stimulation and challenge of all the unfamiliarity and misadventure of travel and living abroad.
Later, staying in Korea became a necessity. The regime of frugality and hoarding mandated patience. I did not like the waiting when I did not know what I was waiting for.
Now that Korea was becoming the familiar to me, I often turned to my students at the college for alternative company and friendship as much as information and ideas. They were a good sounding board with nicely empathetic ears that were all the same eager to listen. They asked me more questions than I asked them, I think.
I often reflect on the people I have met in Korea. It helps me to understand Korea better as much as it helps me to understand the migrants who flock here. It gives me clues about the significance of the relations between peoples and where the world is headed. All that helps to inform myself and my decisions.
I think about Jae Rim and other young English learners that I have met. I am curious. I wonder how they think and what they want. I wonder how different from Canadians or Americans they might be. I wonder where we will all be in a few years and what we will think then.
One September, I faced a new class and there was the bright face of Jae Rim before me in the first row. He was pleased I remembered him.
“So, Jerry, you are studying again.”
“Yes, I am free to study again. I saw your name and I looked for your class.”
“It’s good to see you again.”
“Nice to see you,” he replies, bowing low. It is my turn to feel pleased.
We make an appointment to meet and catch up at the earliest convenience. I buy him a coffee one afternoon at a coffee shop adjacent to the campus.
He looks a slightly heavier and more pensive. His bright energy and confidence still command attention. He is just as courteous and curious as ever.
I tell him about my change of employers and explain why I like working at this campus better in particular. We talk about English studies and student life. Finally, there comes an opportunity to ask him about his studies.
“I wonder what happened. Why did you enroll here, Jerry?”
“What happened?”
“What happened to your job at your uncle’s supermarket?”
“Oh, yes. I see. Well, the family said that I had helped enough. My cousin took over the manager job. I am free to study and follow my dream now.”
“I’m happy for you. I guess you saved some money for it in all that time.”
“Actually, to tell you the truth, I didn’t really earn a salary. The profits from the supermarket paid for my apartment and food. Also, my uncle saved money for me. He is rewarding me now. He is paying for my studies. He can afford to, at least for the first two years.”
“Hm. I see.”
“I did save some money too, and I got a small scholarship.”
“I think you are on a good track. I think you have planned well and will succeed. So, what do you want to do now?”
“I have a double major in English and commerce.”
“That sounds like a good choice, but I guess you are very busy. It must be difficult.”
“It’s not bad. You know, I gave English a head start. First year in English is not difficult for me.”
“I believe it. You have been so diligent and hard-working at English already.”
“I try my best. English is important for work in the international market.”
“You want to work in the international market?”
“Really, I want to go to graduate school abroad. I want to do an MBA in the US later.”
“Oh, right! Well, I hope it all goes well or you and that you get what you want. How about commerce? What is it like studying commerce?”
“It’s not so hard. I used to read about business. I think I get it already.”
“Good for you!”
The goal of getting an MBA abroad is a common plan and one that families usually approve. I admire Jae Rim for his discipline and I am glad he has managed to earn some freedom to do what he really wants and still get the support of his family. I often think that is a difficult art straddling two parallel paths in life. Furthermore, a shared goal is not always the same as one’s personal goal. Pleasing oneself and others does not always coincide.
Jae Rim would fit into the older cohort on campus. “How old are you now?” I ask him.
“I am 27, and I haven’t finished university! I want to finish quickly. But I think I must study for three more years to get a bachelor degree. Then an MBA will take two more years. I can’t get married for a long time. I have to wait.”
“Oh. Do you have a girlfriend these days? Are you in love?”
“Actually, I had a girlfriend but we broke up last year. That is partly why I moved and came here. Also, to tell you the truth, I applied to a few universities and had two choices. I chose this one for the commerce and English programs.”
“It’s a good thing you family has helped you.”
“They are getting me started now but they won’t help me in the future. I am getting to old for it, even though they want to pay me back. They think I should begin to support myself after I get one degree.”
“You finished your military service early, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and that’s where I started studying.”
“I remember that you told me you hoped to start your own business. Do you still want to have your own business?”
“I hope I can do that. It will take time. Maybe I can be an intern in the US and get to know a good company. Maybe I can get a good job in a company and learn more about business. I hope to start my own business later.”
His talking reminded me of a student in the previous year’s class. I had asked the students in a senior conversation class to do presentations about their career interests. One young woman told me that her plan was to finish studying, then work for a company and save money, and then buy a pub when she turned 50. She said that she often went to the “foreigner bars” and knew what they liked. She went to pubs and observed what worked and what didn’t. She had an idea of what a good pub was. Yet, she figured it would be a quarter of a century before she got one. I think she was 22 or 23, and she anticipated that it would take over 25 years to be in a position to buy a pub in Korea!
I am one to talk. Really, I had no clear idea about what kind of career material I was when I was the age of my students today. I had no plan. I held back. To reflect now, it seems that I lived in a cloud for a long time. I was waiting for something. Or, was I fighting my true self? Had I been too afraid to have a plan and make a bold move? I just know that I tried a few things but I seem destined to be in my present occupation in international education and language teaching. I fell into it years before, and it found me again years later.
I am inclined to admire many of the students I meet. Many devise very practical courses of action with careful consideration and research. They are committed and patient though they get frustrated with the job market with its revolving door and temporary workforce for menial jobs. I am quite astonished at how many young adults change jobs and how frequently they do so. I am impressed how it is a method for them, part of a strategy of “getting ahead.”
“I think you will find your opportunity, Jae Rim. You have a plan. You are focused, so your opportunity will find you one day. It may be sooner than you think.”