May’s word is 놀이, or “play.”
The theme for this month’s blog comes from a book I’ve been reading, Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project. She spent one year working on personal happiness, choosing a different area of life for each month. Her area of focus for May was play; in specific, being serious about play. Some of her goals were to “find more fun,” “take time to be silly,” and “go off the path.”
The concept of being serious about play is an interesting one in Korea. Initially the phrase struck me as being simultaneously completely true and a complete joke. The disparity lies in one’s age, but it’s not what you may be thinking. Ironically, the older they are, the harder they play here. Regardless of age, however, I don’t think that I see any of those three goals in action here.
I, like many foreigners in Korea, teach kids. Mine range from age four to age 16, and except for the littlest ones, they study. A lot. Homework starts in kindergarten and the amount increases steadily as you continue through your schooling. This in itself isn’t anything out of the ordinary, until you add in the fact that many kids here also start going to 학원, or academy, from the age of six. By the time they reach second grade, they have three or four academies in addition to their regular school. Piano, Chinese writing, taekwondo, art, English, math...subjects across the board are all covered to ensure a child is on the right path to success. By the time they’re in middle school, they leave their houses by 8:00 a.m. and often don’t return home until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. In addition to regular school and academies, they then have study academy--the parents say it’s to prepare them for high school and university, but the actual end result is that whatever’s left of their childhood is stamped out.
A regular Friday occurrence in my classes is this exchange:
Me: (Student’s name), what are you going to do on the weekend?
Student: Teacher, I will study! Always study.
This comes from students of all ages, and it’s such a sad thing to hear. I actually had an eight-year-old student at my school in Seoul tell me once that she was only allowed to play on holidays. There are only about 15 of those all year in Korea, to give you an idea of how little free time she was talking about.
And then you have the adults. Those here who have finished their long, exhausting years of education definitely don’t get to just relax--they often work long weekday hours and weekends, too--but they also play hard. Korea has a huge drinking culture, and it fills a lot of post-work time for many adults. At most workplaces, it’s an unspoken requirement to attend dinners with the whole office; these dinners nearly always involve multiple bottles of beer and soju and can end with karaoke alongside the boss.
Koreans also take their activities seriously. Most adults have at least one thing they’re involved in, and when I say “involved,” I mean really into it. They form clubs so that regular events are organized, and each member gets every piece of equipment and clothing they might ever possibly need (or not need). It’s not unusual to be passed on the street by a group of 20 ajosshis on bicycles covered head to toe in spandex, with several attachments on their bikes, and wearing helmets, glasses, and masks. Some of us who play volleyball on the beach went to play indoor one day after being invited by our Korean friend--the first hour was spent running drills, and the remaining time in a 9-v-9 match with no rotation.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love bike rides, and drills are always helpful, but there’s a whole different kind of intensity here when it comes to what people do for fun. My idea of intense is in the physical sense--pushing myself hard on the volleyball court and diving for digs. A Korean ajumma’s idea of it is more superficial--making sure she’s suited up with one of everything the hiking store sells before she heads up the mountain.
There’s a pervasive sense here of everyone needing to do what they’re “supposed” to do. Fulfilling those expectations that others have is what leads to kids not getting to be kids. Generally speaking, parents want the best for their kids, but here, parents want their kids to be the best. This is why they’re in school from the age of two or three and being pushed through their entire childhood to study, study, study. I realize that as teachers here, foreigners are a part of that system and so are perpetuating it. That’s something I’ve struggled with at times while being here. But the conclusion I’ve come to is that there will always be another person to take the job; since I’m here, I’m trying to help my kids “find more fun,” as Rubin says. I make a point of being silly with my kids and leaving time for them to be kids in and around class. It’s easy, because it lies in the little things: funny faces, exaggerated reactions, and silly dancing during singing time. Some of my small ones have the best laughs, and I love eliciting that from them.
Rubin also talks in her book about the difference between what’s fun for others and what we truly find fun. I think that the need to follow the crowd extends to play for Koreans; this is not a culture in which following one’s own likes or desires is very encouraged. Their forming of clubs in which everyone does and looks the same is a prime example. I’m sure they join the clubs for a reason, but I guarantee that not everyone in the hiking club actually wants to spend the money on and wear all the gear. They do it because here, it’s what one is supposed to do. Not only does that societal norm make it difficult to understand one’s own idea of fun, there’s a lack of variety in activities as well. Some aspects of Korea have undergone a rapid Westernization: within a city block you can usually find at least one each of a Western restaurant, coffee chain, and sportswear store. Play, however, is one area that’s changing more slowly. This is a culture that isn’t always open to different things, so many newer sports and leisure activities are taking some time to get onto the peninsula. Even people who do know what they truly enjoy are limited in what’s available and might not be able to do it.
The third goal, “get off the path,” is the one that I think has the most relevancy here. Both foreigners and Koreans get stuck in certain activities, certain routines, that don’t vary. That’s not a bad thing because those things are enjoyable; that’s why we do them. However, it’s important to remember the kind of play that we experienced as children. There was spontaneity and creating in that, and we often forget the joy which those things bring. So much about my and other foreigners’ lives in Korea caters directly to letting us play. Whether it’s the weekdays with the kids we teach or the weekends we spend away from work, we have to take the cues around us to enjoy the smiles, laughter, and an expansion of the mind that play evokes.
Hope this finds you all happy and well! Below is an album of photos from this spring. Miss you all!
Love,
Heather
Random collection of photos from February through May:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.546894697969.2027276.148800130&type=3&l=e84d2ebb5a
