KA, all right

During my Korean writing class, in which we continued to learn about similes and metaphors, we were all trying to come up with a metaphor for learning Korean (most people agreed it was like hiking a mountain with no end) when the teacher turned to me and asked what metaphor I'd use.

Still half asleep, I was stumped.

"It's easy for you, isn't it?" she asked, hoping to prompt me.

Astonished, I shook my head. "No, it's hard."

"But didn't you grow up with Korean in the house?"

"When I was young, yes, but after that I didn't use Korean at all, and when you don't use it, you forget it all," I answered.

"Ah," she nodded, "so it is hard for you too," and passed on to another student.

For whatever reason -- perhaps the mounting frustration of feeling behind the other students -- I felt more irritated by this than I normally would be. Yes, I did have an easier time of it at the lower levels, but for the past six months or so we've been learning vocabulary and grammar and phrases that you just don't use in daily household life. I know that many Korean Americans and other overseas Koreans have a good grasp of Korean, but many also know very little Korean, and I really wish that the teachers at our school would understand that. There's no telling who knows how much; I left Korea when I was 8 months old and barely spoke Korean growing up, while another overseas Korean girl in my class left Korea when she was 5 months old and is fairly fluent. It all depends on how much your parents emphasized it at home.

To be fair, my teacher last term didn't assume that I knew more than the average westerner, which I was grateful for. For a westerner, I'm good at Korean, I know that. For a Korean American, well, I probably fall somewhere in the middle now -- not fluent, not unable to communicate at all. I don't want to be rated on the scale with average westerners, because I know I've got an advantage, but I don't want to be compared to other KAs either, because the range of abilities is so wide. Really, I'd like it if everyone would just judge me with only my past experience as the background. But isn't that always the case?

I worked pretty hard at my Korean last term, but I still don't have the amount of ease in it that, say, the Japanese students in my class have. Admittedly, most of them probably spent vacations in Korea and may use it more in daily life, having no family here with which to speak another language, but I think that growing up with a language that is similar in grammar and vocabulary to Korean goes a long, long way. Korean is to Japanese speakers what Spanish is to English speakers.

I guess what really miffed me was the implication that I don't have to work hard at learning Korean, and therefore that my level of proficiency isn't as hard-earned as, say, the white guy next to me. There's some truth to that, definitely, and I'd be fool not to acknowledge it. But it doesn't mean that learning Korean has been easy.

Most annoying. But about to get even more so.

During the break during classes, a Taiwanese classmate asked me if I happened to know any Americans who taught English, because her friend was interested in taking English conversation classes. I was just about to say, "Hey! I can do that, and I also happen to be looking for easy money!" when she hastily added, "But no overseas Koreans. Her mother was very firm about that."

Prejudice against hiring overseas Koreans to teach English is not uncommon here (as well as prejudice against hiring blacks, Indians, and other non-white races). I'm afraid that an indignant tone may have colored my reply: "Actually, Korean Americans are Americans too. But I guess your friend's mother wants a white person."

She nodded, and I mentally ran over my list of acquaintances in Korea. I know a couple white people, but they're not in the teaching business. "I'm sorry," I said, "I don't know anyone who could do it." Mentally I added, "If your friend's mother weren't brainwashed into thinking that all 'real' Americans are blond and blue-eyed, I'd offer myself, but forget it."


My classmate looked at me questioningly. "No one?" she asked.

"No one," I said firmly, thinking, just because I'm American doesn't mean that I automatically know tons of other Americans -- excuse me, white Americans. My closest friends here are Chinese, Japanese, Korean and Taiwanese, and I don't think I have any close American friends here, white or otherwise. "But," I added, rather wickedly, "there are a number of white students here at the school -- you could just go ask one of them."

While I was in Southeast Asia, I was constantly being asked where I was from. Once I answered, "America," and the questioner laughed and said, "No!" Right. It's not a pleasant feeling to be told, in so many words and actions, that you're not really American. I get enough of that in America, thanks.