My parents really tried their best to encourage me to follow a Christian path. Between Catholic school, Christian summer camp and a Christian version of Girl Guides, it's a wonder that they didn't succeed. For awhile I bought into it all. I accepted everything as children do, whole heartedly and satisfied with the vague answers I was given. But then things stopped adding up for me. This was, of course, right after the unfortunate incident involving a Bishop and oil on my forehead. In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I was stuck for life. I find it interesting that the sacriment of Confirmation takes place just before most children really start questioning their faith. It's even more intriguing that today very little prep time goes into this ceremony that supposedly has life long consequences. In comparison, Jewish children spend years preparing for their bar mitzvas/bat mitzvas. Whatever. Catholic kids are kept ignorant- the less they know, the fewer questions they'll have. Or at least, that's the view from a disgruntled 'Catholic'. It's not that I've found a different faith, or that I've tossed aside a belief in a higher power. It just seems to me that organized religion has taken a few wrong turns, and I'm not interested in identifying myself under a label I don't agree with. I'm not Catholic because I believe in a woman's right to have control over her body. I believe in a person's right to love, marry and sleep with whomever they might want to (unless it's Fred-hands off!). I wonder if the Church would be so concerned about who you were sleeping with if anyone in Vatican City had ever had the pleasure of getting laid. I believe that people should be able to challenge their faith without being kicked out of the Church. I believe that people need to learn to laugh at themselves. I'm amazed that the Vatican's tantrum over daVinci Code succeeded in winning more press attention than the President of Kenya begging the Church to okay the use of condoms to help stop the spread of AIDS. Priorities are all wrong for my taste, and so, when approached by the countless swarms of Korean Christians trying to save my soul, I can't help but feel a little nauseated. Although the sea of gleaming red crosses in the night sky doesn't help either.
But this isn't going to be a rant about religion, fear not. I haven't the time, nor the patience to take on such an issue. Not to mention the fact that I have no real concrete opinions on that front. It's more about growing up, I suppose. I was confirmed to the Catholic faith in grade six, in grade seven I became dissatisfied with the answers I was getting. I had always hated being carted off to Church on Sunday morning, but now that my parents were fighting more than usual, I realized I had a way out. I asked my mother if maybe she wouldn't mind going to another church with me. Of course, she jumped at the chance as tensions between her and my dad had mounted to the breaking point. En route to this eutopia of a church we were heading to, I told her I'd changed my mind and asked her if she wouldn't just want to go for breakfast instead. Simple as that. For the next few months, my mother and I pretended to be off to our own church when in reality we were at McDonald's having egg mcmuffins. A sneaky and questionable rebellion since I was with my mom all the while, but it was the best I could come up with to get out of Church on a regular basis.
I was always one of those dorky kids that loved school. Maybe because I never had to work particularly hard at it. I was always kept busy with sports after school and to my memory, did very little homework. The nights I stayed up till all hours to write papers were always my fault- I had usually just started the paper that day. I was never very good at math, but I still got decent marks. When I started complaining of blurred vision in grade two, I was taken to the eye doctor. Tests said I had 20/20 vision. But blurry patches would come and go, accompanied with pressure building up in my eyes. I still get it every now and then. In grade seven, the eye doctor told me I was reading too much and insisted that I not read more than twenty minutes at a time. So I stopped reading. How much could you possibly do in twenty minutes? I breezed through high school with little effort (not always with the best marks) and headed off to University. I finally had a teacher call me on my lack of effort in my learning, and it shocked me. Was it that obvious? Of course it was- a mediocre effort had usually gotten me by, so I became accustomed to offering the bare minimum. Why work harder for no good reason? I've never thought that I wasn't smart enough to go into a particular field of study, but I have wondered if realistically I could commit myself. (Phobic, remember?) A question that I'm faced with now that I contemplate a return to school... I know I'll find myself back in school soon enough, but the direction that I'll take is still up in the air. It was important for me to break away from academics and explore my creativity- and I'm not giving up on that. I'm thankful that I've had that opportunity.
There are of a course countless variables that impact who we become as adults. As I look at these kids that I'll soon be leaving, I contemplate the differences between how I grew up and how they will. All of the most important moments of my life have come from tearing myself away from my friends, family, faith, boyfriends and academics. It's seen as a normal part of the process of growing up. But these kids are already experiencing tremendous pressures that I never had to deal with. They are already aware that image is everything. They are aware that their mothers always have perfectly manicured nails and that a hair is never out of place. They are aware that mom diets really hard to make sure that she is not labelled 'fat'. They are aware that in their world, there are roles for girls and roles for boys. They know that living on the twenty-second floor is better than living on the tenth floor. They are aware of what brand of shoes they wear to school, and the student who goes to the most schools has the most money. The pressure to look the same as everyone else is intense. Middle school girls are not allowed to have their hair shorter than their chin or longer than their shoulders, and will be sent to the barber shop to have it fixed before returning to school. Fingernail checks are done to make sure that your nails are not only clean, but of a uniform length. Jewelry and make-up is still forbidden. Most things in Korean culture can be chalked up to image- in fact, my very presence here has less to do with an active interest in learning English and more to do with keeping pace with everyone else. It is fashionable to learn English. Korea is the plastic surgery capital of the world for a reason. The Korean knock-off industry is worth a billion dollars a year. That's alot of fake Channels. It's all about image.
The kids I teach range in age from three years to sixteen years. Some of my three year olds start school at 9am and finish at 4:30pm. Half of that is Korean school, the other half English school. Some of my Elementary school students attend as many as eleven schools- so they leave the house at 8am and return home around 8 or 9pm, just in time to finish their homework and pass out. Middle school children are often dropped off on their doorsteps by the school bus at 1am. Even during their much deserved breaks from school, the average Korean student spends more than 48 hours in school or studying, each week. All of these schools are designed to give students a 'leg up' in the horrid exam that they have to write their final year of high school. Children learn to fear this exam from the time they start grade one. The Korean Scholastic Aptitude Test determines what University you will attend and what course of study you can follow. Because image is everything- it also impacts how successful you will be in your career and in your marriage prospects after graduation. The exam takes place in November. In August, mothers start frequenting temples and churches (often both, not either or) to offer prayers for their child's performance in the exam. One month before, mothers make their way to the temples to light candles for their children. The teachers responsible for writing the exam are sequestered for a month before it takes place. Businesses open an hour later to help ease the flow of traffic, as the 700,000 students make their way to the exams. Flights into and out of Seoul are stopped for the listening portion of the exam, to cut down on outside noise pollution. The exam last eight hours, and will determine the course your life will take. Ironically, once you're accepted into University, it's a joke. By all accounts, no one learns a thing.
As a Canadian, I breathe a sigh of relief that I was able to choose my field of study and that there isn't a point of no return in our education system. A high school drop-out could still go back to school and become a doctor. It is so difficult to wrap my mind around some of these differences. Koreans are incredibly strong as a collective, but in terms of individualism, they have a great deal of trouble breaking out of the confines of everyday routine. I wore my hair in a braid to school one day and not only did all my kids notice, and comment, but all the girls in my classes showed up for the next three weeks with their hair in braids. It still baffles the kids that I could spend a year away from Fred. It doesn't fit into their formula, and it doesn't make sense. Just as they thought they had it all figured out, I surprise them by telling them that we're not getting married when I get back. It's unheard of in Korea. The Dutch soccer coach that led the Korean soccer team to the semi-finals in the 2002 World Cup made one change- and it was hugely controversial. He insisted that all players be treated equally, regardless of age. Suddenly the team started winning, and he's held up as national hero. The solution was so simple, but it's difficult to see it from within the box. How can you be a team if you have a hierarchy? I could go on forever here. My point is this. I have realized this year how lucky I am to be able to make choices. That there is nothing limiting me to what I can and cannot do. I can take my BFA and go onto law school, or I can throw myself into a conservatory for the next three years. I can decide to get married tomorrow, or ten years from now or never, and no one will bat an eyelash (well, maybe tomorrow is a little quick...). I can choose to leave my faith because it doesn't fit. I can choose not to follow the path my parents hoped for me. Better yet, they're happy that I did. I got to make mistakes. I can tell Fred's family openly (although they are all aware) that I hate cooking, and I'm horrible at it. We don't need to pretend just because I'm the woman. I can decide not to have kids. I don't have to own a Louis Vuitton purse, or spend 80,000$ on my wedding (the average cost of a Korean wedding). I can run on the treadmill at the gym, because I don't care if men see me sweat. I'm proud to have muscular calves (I've worked damn hard for them), and I don't feel the need to inject poison in them to make them smaller. I've had alot of ups and downs this year- and occasionally questioned my choice in coming to Korea for some of these very reasons. But I think I really needed to experience this. Because I never would have belived it if I hadn't.
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