An Immersion Story: My American Sons in Korean School

It all became real as the Vice-Principal of Chungduk Elementary School offered us vitamin “candies” and cups of warm water, and said, “Welcome to our school” in complimentary English. Our three sons, meanwhile, were nodding off on the office couch, as it was around 1 AM in Charlotte, NC, where we had flown in from just the day before. I watched our whole game plan change as my Korea-speaking husband did all the talking. I was, at first, hesitant with the idea of our children being foisted into a school environment in a completely different language, even though the Korean culture comprises a large part of their roots. I still felt a nagging obligation and calling to raise them as Americans in America. What would such a drastic move do to their future, should they opt to make it back in the United States?, I wondered.

Then again, I reminded myself of the advantages early foreign language and cultural immersion could afford them, as some of my friends’ children back in Charlotte picked up Mandarin and German in recently-implemented language immersion kindergarten programs. Still, I admit, after trying unsuccessfully to get them into the DoD school on the Army base (I was neither active duty military, nor a local hire), and the fact that my husband’s new opportunity did not afford international schooling coverage, immersion into Korean public school turned out to be a last resort. And although my boys did have their range of struggles in the beginning, including failing even math and English tests, simply because all the questions were in Korean, they quickly picked up the language, as they had to in order to thrive and fit in. This initially wracked me with guilt. But the guilt gradually melted into heart-warming pride once they acquired a working command of Korean, with which they were also able to help their classmates with their English lessons, as well as serve as a conduit between non-Korean-speaking English teachers and non-English-speaking school staff. One of my sons was even elected a class Vice-President during his first semester, even despite the then-language barrier!

And as a minimal-Korean-speaking parent relocating here well into my 30’s, I also had my fair share of struggles and victories. Fortunately, my children were assigned the teachers who could speak the most English, and I was able to communicate with them reasonably well, using “Konglish”—a rudimentary combination of Korean and English—during most parent-teacher conferences and classroom events. I did this not because their English was deficient, but rather because I wanted to make more of an effort, along with my kids, to communicate more in Korean.

In Korean school, from my experience, parent involvement is often encouraged, but not to the same degree as in American schools. One common experience held almost quarterly is called the “Open Classroom,” similar to the open houses I had when I was a kid, where parents are invited to come in and observe the classes while they were in session. Unfortunately, unlike after-hours open houses in American schools, Open Classrooms are held during school and work hours, making it difficult for most parents to attend. And these sessions were often held for all classes at the same time, which made it a challenge for those with multiple children in the same school. At one point, I had to run back and forth between three different classrooms, as all three of my sons’ open classroom sessions were being held simultaneously! So my sons and their teachers knew not to take it personally when I had to duck out and run to their brothers’ classrooms.

And during these Open Classroom sessions, parents were also encouraged to fill out evaluation forms and offer suggestions. But due to my limited language skill, I often passed on filling the evaluation forms. And even though I could not understand much, I still made it a point to show up anyway in order to show my support for the teacher, as well as for my children’s education. It certainly gave me a new respect for immigrant parents back in the US, whose children were both my sons’ classmates, as well as my own friends back during the Reagan Administration.

One other rather delightful event, usually held in the fall, are the high-energy “Sports Days,” similar to what American schools call “Field Days,” in which each class competes against others on the same grade-level in games like relay races, tug-of-war and dodge ball, etc. And sometimes, parents, and even grandparents, are invited to compete against one another, as their children cheer them on. At one Sports Day at Chungduk, my sons enjoyed watching their grandpa, who lives with us, play ring toss with the other halmonis and harabojis! But unlike most American Field Days, Korean Sports Days are often garishly decorated, much like graduations, festooned with balloon arches, strings of international flags and convention-style banners. Street vendors selling wares ranging from slinkies and pinwheels to flower bouquets, also line up to cash in on Sports Days. They’re that big of a deal!

All in all, although we did not originally plan on living in Korea for the duration, or having our kids immersed in Korean school for more than a couple of years, my husband’s career took off in unexpected ways, and for that, we have rolled with the punches and come a long way since that first day in the Vice-Principal’s office, nearly five years ago. My oldest is now in “Middle School, first grade” (7^th grade) at Korea University Middle School, and my younger two are not far behind. Since then, they have fully adapted, and our new challenge is to keep up their English literacy, which we supplement through individual reading and private tutors. They are also avid swimmers and Taekwondo red and black belts; and it prides me beyond belief to see them thrive alongside Korean kids, even as their language skills now far exceed my own. I no longer worry about their adaptive skills, nor my own. In fact, since our move to Korea, I feel I have developed a newfound sense of peace that wherever the future takes us, we will all be fine, and be better for it.

15. February 2017 by Chiara Kelly
Categories: Life, Miscellaneous, Seoul Mama | 1 comment