Mr. Lee: Conclusion and Epilogue

Wherein a Battle Ensues:

Here continues the epic story of the struggle between good English vs. incompetence. Mr. Lee and I had a drawn-out, gut-wrenchingly exasperating 45-minute argument over a test question that was flawed. It asked the student to circle the final destination after hearing this instruction: "Go straight and turn right on the corner." Well, the road that one reaches after that right turn has 2 possible destinations, one on the right and the other on the left. There was no way that the student could know which one it was. As a result, half of the 360 students circled one answer, and the other half circled the other. I suggested that we give back the points, or accept both answers. He insisted that he wasn't wrong, even though he admitted that he didn't teach them the necessary info to get the question right. He was vehement in his conviction, and repeated the same logic over and over. It was ironic and annoying that he had to use the dictionary to look up words in order to express that his understanding of English was trustworthy. I tried to be very calm, but I think that infuriated him more that my opinion neither changed, nor was I out of control. Anyway, he still took away their points. I felt bad for the students, and sorely vexed with this stubborn mule of a teaching partner.

The plot thickens.

Recently, I got sick with bronchitis. I have been exhausted and my voice was much like a pubescent 13-year-old boy. Because of my inability to sleep at night due to the coughing, I wasn't able to maintain the polite smile I usually do. He then finally realized that something was amiss. He asked if I was "angly" at him, and assumed it was because of the test question. At first I told him that I wasn't angry; after the fruitlessness of our last discussion, I was sure that there was no way that another argument was going to resolve anything. I told him that we could be professional about it, and that he does the grading, so his decision is final. Which caused another high-blood-pressure argument where he tried to justify his decision again. He had the nerve to tell me that he had called his old classmates in his hometown (Busan) to ask if he was right about the test question. They're all Korean non-native-English-speakers! He was so insistent that I had to assert the reasons for my opinion yet again. He teared up and looked like he was going to cry and/or punch me in the face. His hands trembled nervously and he seemed on the point of a breakdown. "It's not my pault!!" he shouted.
So I told him what I was actually much more concerned about: the GEPIK rules that say he should be letting me teach 80% of the class, but currently it's more like 5%. Then he got really frustrated again, fiddling with his dictionary to figure out how to speak English. However, he had to go to a teacher's meeting and I told him that he should go. He left, but then came back a minute later to say, "But, Tweeree, I don....", at which point I assured him again that we would discuss it later, but after his meeting. He left, but returned shortly to our room and sputtered some more protests. He did this two more times in the space of 10 minutes, then finally went to the meeting. It was still in session when I left at 4:30 to go home.

The Encounter.

When I got home, I was looking forward to relaxing from the day and resting my croaky throat. I was just about to fall into a much-needed coma when at 6:15 pm, I heard a knock on my door. I was very surprised, but so tired....yet, the knocking continued very insistently. I went to answer the door. It was Mr. Jo, the nice teacher who spoke good English. Mr. Jo asked me if I had eaten dinner. There was no way; I was beyond exhausted. But when I made excuses, he persisted.
"How about a snack? Yes, something good for your cold?"
I hesitantly asked what he had in mind.
He said, "We would like to take you out for a meal."
"We?" I asked.
He gestured towards the outside of the apartment corridor. Who else could it be? Mr. Lee was standing in the street. He waved at me enthusiastically like a character on a Disney parade float, "Hello Miss Tweeree! oh haha".
God. Help. Me. NOW.

Since I had exhausted my excuses and I'm not particularly good at lying, we went to Dunkin' Donuts. I got tea, and we sat down for some get-to-know-you chatting. The tension was palpable; I didn't want to talk to Mr. Lee, and it was clear that he couldn't carry on a conversation in English anyway. I think Mr. Jo came as a translator and a buffer for the coward.
So Mr. Jo and I had polite chitchat about other subjects. Finally, he asked me, "How is your school life?" I wanted to be polite, so I started to say, "Well, overall, it is ok...."
Mr. Lee interjected, emphatically gesturing at himself, grinning, and loudly sputtering, "Oh she has bery hard time, because off meeee! Oh haha!" And he looked back and forth at Mr. Jo and I, like a child eagerly beaming with pride, expecting a reward for having said something so funny. Mr. Jo looked away, and I saw that he was uncomfortable. I didn't want to draw him into our fight, so I diverted the conversation to the differences between American schools and Korean schools.

We spoke at length about it, and I asked them if they had always wanted to be teachers. I was particularly curious about Mr. Jo, whose English was far more sophisticated than was required of an elementary teacher. Mr. Jo graduated with a degree in engineering. He wanted to pursue law school and ultimately have a legal career defending patents. His application scores weren't very good, so he became a teacher and has been teaching for many years. Mr. Lee graduated in environmental science and wanted to pursue medical school, but his scores weren't good either. He tried several different things, and ended up with teaching. He recently graduated with his teaching degree.

It is quite a contrast to see that both are about the same age, mid to late-30s, yet Mr. Lee has not really settled into a career yet. And of all things to teach, English?! I can't imagine why he decided that it was his best subject, and even less how abysmally he must teach the other subjects by comparison. From the info, I got the sense that becoming a teacher is the last thing Mr. Lee can try so that he can do something with his life, so he really wants to be good at it and to be valued. And he not only yearns to be appreciated professionally, but even more so, he desperately needs to be liked personally. He strikes me as the fat kid that nobody really liked because he's so needy. His excessive emotional eating and frantically chaotic workaholism doesn't do much to alleviate that perception. And his passive-aggressive approach to conflict resolution isn't exactly heart-warming, either.

After some more conflict avoidance, Mr. Jo thanked me for coming out and we started the walk home. On the way, Mr. Lee awkwardly joked, "Ah, for 2 months, I will be unemployed! hehe." He was referring to the teachers' summer break. I tried to be positive and said, "Well don't call it unemployed; you can call it a vacation." He insisted that it was "unemployment" and he would be poor. So I tensely asked him if he would be returning to my school in the fall. He answered that he didn't know. I was so nervous that I could've chewed through a bone. Please to God NOOO!! It seems unlikely, however, since they have not offered him the position yet. Susan suggested that my opinion of him may have probably affected the decision to hire him. I can only hope and pray.

At the end of the walk home, he gave me what sounded like a sincere apology, but then added in excuses. He said that he was "considerating" me, because I was a new teacher. That annoyed me, because he had just graduated 3 months ago himself. He said that he would let me teach more, but that was hardly a consolation when all the testing had already been finished. Anything I taught them at that point would be considered "nonessential". But I was tired of the situation and god knows, I didn't want him to visit my apartment anymore. I decided to let it go, since he was leaving in 2 weeks. I said, "Alright, I see. But really don't worry about it, since the semester's over. It doesn't matter."

Denoument

Well despite his apology, things continued to be contentious between him and me. He allowed me to teach only when my throat was horribly scratchy, my cough became a booming sound, and I choked often on my own phlegm. Then, when I recovered a little more last week, we started disagreeing in class (in front of the kids). I just couldn't understand his English and what he was doing, and neither did the students, even when he spoke in Korean. I found out that he has a strong regional dialect that makes it hard for even Koreans to understand him. Furthermore, him asking my input on lesson plans was only a courtesy; he changed the lesson plan in almost every class. In the last week of school, he told me not to drink water for my still-aching throat in class because it may be perceived as "lude" (yes, he meant rude, not lewd) by "some teachers", though no teachers ever watch our classes. I think it was his roundabout-way of telling me that HE didn't like it. He lectured me about how I shouldn't yell at the students to be quiet, when he took forever standing there, expecting them to quiet down eventually on their own. That really did it for me. He can kiss my ass.

So in the end, I don't feel sorry for him. My professional opinion is that he's a mediocre teacher at best and downright unemployable in all honesty. He isn't a team player; he didn't hear out my ideas despite admitting that his pronunciation is terrible (all the other teachers agreed; I can't even imagine how that meeting went). Even though he may be incredibly insecure, the arrogance he exhibited was unforgiveable. Good riddance when he goes; hopefully someone who is more deserving and more qualified will replace him.

This past week was his last. So long, Mr. Lee. I wish I hardly knew ye.