You Go First...Bungee Jumping In Korea

Special Thanks to Michelle Henke For Her Mad Editing Skills

A few of my training buddies reunited and went bungee jumping at Cheongpu Land, Jecheon, Korea. It is the highest bungee in all of Korea.

Before we jumped, our two organizers, Dave & Mike, decided they would go first and second respectively (decided by Kai Bai Boh -rock, paper, scissors). Nikki and I declared third and fourth respectively because we were the only ones in a group of 10 who had ever bungee jumped (Costa Rica Spring Break 2007). I mentally prepared myself for being fourth to jump...

Before we jumped, we had to get our harnesses on. A group of young guys weighed us giving us different colored sheets of paper. Then they tightened the straps and sent us on our way. Group 1 went up the elevator to the 62 meter or 200 ft platform. When we got to the platform, it was swaying. Below us were groups doing a superman dive (where groups of 2-3 people are raised up and released swaying like a pendulum). As soon as we sat down, the guys at the top told us to pull out our colored papers with scribble from being weighed. Three of us had blue and the other two had yellow. They immediately pointed to me. "You go first." What?! I was so not ready for this. Dave and I argued that we had already chosen an order at the bottom, but the helpers would hear none of it. We still don't know why I had to go first. We still don't know what the papers mean or why the color of the paper mattered. Nevertheless, I agreed. After all, I was experienced. I could give the rest of the crew some courage. I stood on the edge. One helper kept touching my back. I was afraid he was going to push me. I kept telling him to stop counting and give me one more minute. I felt bad for the other four watching my nervousness despite this time being my second bungee jump. After two or three minutes of negotiating and finalizing the jump (on 1 GO!...5...4...3...2...1... AHHHHH!...)

It wasn't as scary as I thought. After all, this was my second time. It felt so long after jumping. All I waited for was the pull back. The second scariest thing about bungee jumping besides actually leaving the platform, is waiting for the first bounce. Once it happened, it felt like I was upright again as if I were standing in mid-air. After the bounce, I twisted so much. It was horrible because I was still hungover from the night before. We had come home at 5am. I threw up all the ramyeon (Korean Ramen) and went to sleep for only 2.5 hours only to greet a wake up call at 8am. We took a 45 minute subway ride to Cheongnyangi Station to catch the 2.5 hours train to Jecheon. At Jecheon, we stood at a bus station hoping to catch a bus that would take us to Cheongpu Land. Thankfully, we found a family headed that way who affirmed that this bus stop would take us to the site. The bus ride was about 25 minutes. It was hot, sweaty, and smelly. The worst part was that it took us up into the mountains, therefore creating motion sickness before the biggest amount of motion we were mentally preparing for--bungee jumping.

Dave at 8am. Drunk & Drunk Dialing for Wake-Up Calls

Cheongpu Land Bungee Jump Map

Cheongpu Land: Lake Surrounded by Mountains

번 지 점 프
Konglish for Bungee Jump: "Bun Jee Jum Puh"

The Platform
62 Meters or 200 Feet

Perfect Form
My Jump

Masters Writing

Masters Writing Spring 2009

Simon, Jinny, Sue, Emma, Kathy & Me

Despite all the partying and constant Uncle Buck jokes, I have been blessed to have yet another challenging term. Many instructors find teaching to be tiresome and same ol' same ol'. Thankfully, I have been challenged each term. I began with low level classes my first term. My second term, I jumped to mostly high level and some low level. This 3rd term, I am doing a mixture of high and low, but I am also teaching Masters Writing. This course is designed to take students away from academic style writing--5 paragraphs (intro, body, conclusion). Instead, I am teaching them to stylistically write emphasizing constant use of literary devices such as similes, metaphors, personification, sensory detail etc. It is such a unique course because I truly feel like I'm a teacher. In blended learning (memory, interactive listening and reading), I had to follow a specific structure. In Masters Writing, the students write for the first hour and last hour. During the second hour, I teach them a skill and look at prose so that they students can learn about other author's styles and apply them to their own writing. It has been so rewarding reading their essays and seeing how much they have improved.

Most of my students are 7th graders. However, I do have a 5th grader. The first thing she ever told me was that her desk is uncomfortable because her feet don't touch the ground. Later in the term I found out that this little prodigy was going to be on a quiz show on Korean television about history, social studies, and geography yet speaking English. It is amazing to witness these students get their creative juices flowing. The essays they write aren't just cupcake and ice cream puff pieces. They are required to think deeply about issues concerning the Korean work ethic, the new kid, and fears in general.

One of the most fun classes I ever taught was a lesson on connotation vs. denotation. Coming to class on a Sunday can be drag. They have to write for 2/3 hours and listen to me talk about similes, metaphors, personification, tone etc. They were about to leave me for 2 weeks because of mid-term exams, so I decided this class was going to be interactive. I gave them a mini lesson on the definition of connotative and denotative language; associated meaning and dictionary meaning respectively. Then, I gave them each a piece of paper. For their first exercise they had to imagine the person they hate or get most angry with the most and tell me why. Then I gave them some examples of "Yo Momma" jokes to help them understand the difference between what is said and what is meant. Furthermore, I gave them other put-downs that people use or at least in movies to further explain connotation vs. denotation.

"Yo momma's so fat that when she sat on a rainbow, skittles popped out."

"You think your so cool? You think your poop doesn't stink?"

*Censored version of "So you don't think your shit don't stink?"

Lame, but effective.

After they leave me at 4pm on Sunday, they are required every other week to write a 400 word essay on a topic concerning our class discussion. The beauty about Masters level is that not only do I get paid 10% higher than usual, but I have other opportunities to make money. Every essay they write during the third hour, I have to take home and proof. Each essay is 5,000 won. Then, I get paid for the 400 word essays they submit online amounting to about 15,000 won per essay. With a class of 9, I am earning extra hundred thousand won each month.

Despite the extra pay, the relaxed CCTV watching (although my tape was sent to the Program Manager for review), I have free-range of the class. This was my first dose of "real" teaching.

"Teacher, I didn't study."

Today, I hugged at student for the first time. I don't mean just any hug that you would give for praise or silliness. I mean a hug of sincerity. Today, I took a closer step towards what it truly means to be a teacher.

Cindy is a 5th grader in my elementary Eagle Reading class on Mondays from 4-7pm. I am currently teaching the 9th week of the Spring term, therefore I have seen Cindy 9 times thus far. Each class is 3 hours long. Her class is a very big class with 15 students. Having that many students becomes distracting, therefore turning into the Shadiyah Show with me desperately trying to "teacher-tain". With all this said and done, I have very little one-on-one time with students. If I were decent at math, I would predict that my individual attention spent per student in this class could amount to 15 minutes.

Mondays are generally on cruise control. I only have one class, therefore I can exercise all my energy into this one 3 hour course and not be spent for a following middle school class from 7-10pm. Today, started as any other Monday. I arrived early to write homework answers on the board and wait for my students to filter in. I always get the usual...

"Teacher, I didn't finish my homework."

"Teacher, I wanna kill you."

"Teacher, I'm going to fail."

"Teacher, I didn't study."

Of course, these are all said in jokey fake attempts to tap into my pity. Cindy walked in a said, "Teacher, I didn't study." Knowing this phrase well, I brushed it off and smiled telling her that it would be alright. "Study now!" I usually let my students study for 15 minutes while I walk around checking homework. When I reached Cindy's desk, she again said "Teacher, I didn't study." I blew it off as the typical attempt for me to feel sorry for them. Right before I distributed the test, Cindy came up to my desk and tapped my shoulder asking for me to go outside. Teachers should never leave a class unattended especially an elementary level one.

I went right outside of my door and she instantly cupped her hands onto her face and started crying heavy heavy tears. "Teacher, I didn't study. Just give me a F." She said these words with such heavy sighs and sniffles. My heart felt like it was going to rip. I felt so bad for her. My eyes started to tear-up. My body felt like it lost its energy losing a couple seconds of breath. All I could do was rub her back. I then embraced her and told her not to worry. "This is just one test. Plus, everyone gets +2 because everyone did their homework." I told her that she was one of my best students, which she is. She always pays attention and answers questions even if I didn't ask her specifically. She always has a cheery attitude and is friendly with her classmates. During project presentations, she always tries to make it creative and believable. I could not imagine why such a bright student could feel so bad and so guilty about this one review test. This was one review test out of 13. It was one grade that fell into an average of other grades such as homework check, attention, participation, in-class quiz, Internet homework. In total, this one review test could account for 3% of her entire term.

She sobbed so hard. She carried so much guilt about one test that it manifested into tears in front of her teacher. I remember crying to my Chemistry of Art teacher in college and remember how embarrassing that was. I hope that she didn't feel embarrassed, but felt close enough to me that it was OK for her to cry. It breaks my heart to see my student feel so much pressure that she had to cry.

Korean parents expect so much of their children. It begins with learning English to get into an international middle school or high school. To do this, a student needs to pass the TOEFL. After this hoop, the student needs to have high marks to get into a good university. One would think a university degree is just that...a university degree good enough to get anyone a job. Koreans, however, feel that a "good university" leads to a "good job" that translates into "success."

I understood Cindy's frustration. She has multiple academies after school with massive amounts of homework for each. She has exams this week in public school. She has to sleep after midnight just to get all of her homework finished. I knew she didn't study because of laziness, but actual busyness. It makes me wonder, did she cry because of the possible wrath of her parents? Did she cry because she thinks she is letting me down? Did she cry because she is upset with her own failure to study?

I took her to the bathroom and wiped her tears away with tissue paper. She washed her face as I patted her face dry with a paper towel. Throughout this process, she hung her head and hid her face with her cupped hands. We walked back to the classroom door and I asked her one last time if she wanted water and if she was OK. She kept heaving and tearing. I finally asked her if she wanted one more hug, and she opened her arms and we embraced.

When we walked back into the class, all of the students became silent. I wish I could know what was going through Cindy's mind. I'm sure she felt embarrassed. The students immediately asked me why she was crying. I told them to stop looking at her, and to look at me. "I'm the pretty one!" Cindy sat down and they students all began their tests. More of the girls asked again why she was crying. "Because you smell bad!" I tried to distract them with jokes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Once the tests were distributed, the students became silent and focused on their test. I watched Cindy from the corner of my eye while she laid her head on one propped hand. She ended up getting a B.

I have had hundreds of students since I've started teaching. As any teacher would, I have my favorites and my well...special ones with discipline issues. I will never forget either sides of the spectrum of students, but today was not about favorites. Cindy could have been a student I have wanted to strangle all term. She could have been like my own daughter. Nevertheless, today was about genuine compassion for a student.