On Daemosan

I met a man on Mt. Daemo today ("san" means "mountain"). I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said that he was a bit pushy. He introduced himself, grabbed my arm, and spoke with me for a minute or two; before I knew it, he was asking me to converse with his daughter. He obviously wanted me to agree to the request: His hand grasped my arm as he asked. I had little else to do, so I politely acquiesced. I hesitated because his daughter didn't want to speak with me at first. Mostly she was shy and also, I think, deathly afraid of failing--in front of me and in front of her father. Her reluctance didn't come as a surprise to me. It's common of Koreans, especially children.

Her English skills were impressive for her age. I'd put her at an intermediate level at YBM, which is where I teach adults. We talked for awhile, and afterward her father asked me what I thought of her English ability. She was a nice girl, and I didn't want to get her into trouble, so I inflated my estimation. I told him that she was somewhere between an intermediate and an advanced level. He seemed satisfied with my answer and I continued on up the mountain.

Living as a visible minority in a society as foreign as this one will make anyone feel separate from it. But this encounter was the first time I felt this different from everyone else. I was the white male English teacher from Canada. In this society, all of that matters, much more than any of it matters in Canada.

Photo Of The Day