Category Archives: Buhay OFW
Grace In A Foreign Land
Today, I begin my 14th year here in South Korea.
Fourteen years ago, I boarded a plane carrying more than luggage. I carried questions. I carried fear. I carried unfinished conversations with the people I loved. And yet, above all, I carried conviction — the kind that whispers, Go. There is more waiting for you.
Time has a way of softening distances and turning foreign places into familiar ground. What was once unknown has become part of my story. What once felt like exile became expansion. And in all these years, I have come to understand that certain decisions do not merely change your address — they change your direction.
South Korea did not simply become my workplace; it became a refining ground. Here, I grew not only as an educator but as a thinker, a writer, and a man of faith. The classrooms sharpened my discipline. The solitude deepened my introspection. The unfamiliar culture stretched my perspective. This land became the platform on which I learned to rebuild, rediscover my purpose, and pursue excellence beyond the limits of my former comfort zone.
I thank the Lord for sustaining me through every season — through doubt, through growth, through silent battles no one else saw. And I thank this country for serving as the backdrop to one of the most defining chapters of my life.
But every long journey has a beginning. Every transformation has a first trembling step.
And mine began with a single day — a day marked by cold air, empty rooms, unanswered calls, unexpected kindness, and a faith that refused to collapse.
That first day in South Korea is something I will never forget.
It was in the early dawn of March 2, 2013 when I left the Philippines aboard Asiana Airlines. Around eight in the morning, the plane landed at Busan International Airport. At that time, Mr. Kenn Lachenal was with me. We were both headed to South Korea to teach English at Gyeongju University.
I admit that during that time, I was overwhelmed — not because of drugs, but because of the many thoughts about my loved ones and the anxiety over the new challenge I had chosen to face.
It was against my will to leave my loved ones behind, but it was necessary. I also did not want to step away from the school I had served as Principal for almost a year. Yet I have always refused to be ruled by my emotions. I did not want to avoid a decision simply because I surrendered to feelings. I carefully thought through my decision to go to South Korea to teach. It was not impulsive. It was part of my plans — a long-considered intention whose time had finally come. I would not allow my emotions to stop me.
It was not the desire for a higher salary that drove me abroad. I was already earning well as a principal. On top of that, I was working as an academic consultant at a technical school and as a part-time college instructor. Financially, I was stable. I had even built a house. The problem was this — I was no longer comfortable in my comfort zone.
I had grown weary of supervising teachers and employees. It felt stagnant — no longer challenging. Something was missing — something I longed to find. Personal issues that needed resolution did not help either. It became clear to me that I needed a radical change in my life if I wanted to preserve my sanity. I had to go somewhere new for a fresh beginning.
I felt as though I was at a dead end — yet I knew there was a world beyond dead ends. That was the world I wanted to reach… to explore.
As Jake Sully, the main character in Avatar, once said, “Sometimes your whole life boils down to one insane move.” Like Jake, though I felt fear, I was certain of my decision before I jumped to wrestle and tame my own “Toruk.”
I brought only two things with me to South Korea — self-confidence and faith in God. That combination has always been my shield against trials and my hook for reaching whatever I aspire to achieve.
I was not seeking luck in this country; I do not believe in luck. I believe that “God gives mercy, but man must act.” My purpose was to write a new chapter of my life here — a new phase in the destiny I believe I must draw for myself.
It was my first time traveling abroad, and I was fortunate to be with Mr. Lachenal. Aside from being helpful, he was experienced in overseas travel. Since we were both headed to Gyeongju University, I was confident I would not get lost.
When we arrived at Busan International Airport, I was shocked by the cold. It pierced through my jacket. I had assumed that since winter had ended and spring was beginning, the weather would be like Baguio. Thankfully, the bus we took to Gyeongju-si had its heater running. Though I was sleepy, I could not fall asleep during the ride. I kept looking at every place we passed. I said to myself, “Here I am in South Korea.”
After nearly two hours, we arrived in Gyeongju-si. Mr. Mark Celis welcomed us. He brought us to the apartments where we would stay — Mr. Lachenal to the “white house,” and me to the “blue house.” Not the White House of Washington D.C., nor any political residence in Seoul — those were simply the names given to the apartments provided by Gyeongju University for foreign professors. They were named after their paint colors. There was also a “yellow house” and a “green house.”
Before leaving, Mr. Celis ensured that my unit was in order and introduced me to another Filipino professor at Gyeongju University — Dr. Randy Tolentino, who also lived in the “blue house.”
When I entered my room, I felt for the first time what it truly meant to be alone — far from loved ones, in an unfamiliar place. I simply stood there, unsure of what to do first.
After regaining composure, I opened my suitcase and slowly arranged my belongings.
The surroundings were silent. I heard nothing but my own footsteps. I could even hear my heartbeat and the sound of my swallowing. After arranging my clothes and things, I suddenly felt the intense cold again — and hunger. The refrigerator was empty. There was a gas stove, but nothing to cook. I made do with the biscuits I had brought from the Philippines.
Then I remembered I needed to call my loved ones to inform them I had arrived safely. When I reached for my cellphone, I realized I had not activated roaming on my SIM card. I felt foolish. I cursed under my breath. I could not call anyone; my phone was nothing more than a music player.
I admit that at that moment, deep sadness overwhelmed me. I was still hungry despite finishing almost all my biscuits. I was shivering from the cold. The silence felt deafening. I was alone, with no one to talk to. I also worried that my loved ones were already anxious, waiting for news from me.
In that moment, I understood the true meaning of HOMESICKNESS — just hours after landing in South Korea.
But amid that sadness, I looked up to heaven and remembered that I had prayed many times for the chance to come to this country. I do not know why, but as far as I know, He has never ignored my prayers. I even wrote a poem about it in English — seven syllables only:
He answers.
Just wait.
Have faith!
I was about to lie down to drown my hunger and sadness in sleep when I heard knocks at my door. It was Randy.
He came in and talked with me. He was from Iloilo. At least I had someone to speak with now. While we talked, he looked at my stove and showed me how to operate it. He must have noticed I was cold, because he also taught me how to use the floor heater. I felt somewhat relieved by his help. He opened the kitchen drawers and found a few cans of food left behind by the previous tenant. He left briefly and returned with packs of noodles and some 3-in-1 coffee.
I was surprised by the generosity Randy showed, whom I would later call Sir Randy. It was as though he had known me for years. He stepped out again and returned, saying, “Come on, bro, my girlfriend has cooked. Let’s eat.”
I followed him to his unit. I was surprised, but I did not hesitate — not because I was desperately hungry, but because I felt the sincerity of his invitation. It would have been embarrassing to refuse.
The food was warm, but warmer still was the care shown to me by Sir Randy and his girlfriend, Nikki, who was from China. I was about to take my first bite when Sir Randy offered a prayer of thanksgiving. My respect for him deepened at that moment. At my first bite, tears welled up in my eyes — moved by their kindness and by how God answers prayers. When the couple looked at me, I casually said I must be catching a cold — that was why my eyes were watery. I do not know if they believed me.
After dinner, Sir Randy walked me back to my unit, carrying some cooked food. I said, “This is more than enough, bro!” He smiled and explained they were leaving for Daejeon and just wanted to make sure I had food until the next day. He then returned to his unit and brought me a pot, a pan, a kettle, and some coffee sticks. I did not know what to say. I wanted to hug him for all the help he was giving.
His kindness did not end there. When he learned I could not use my SIM card, he lent me one of his smartphones and his iPod before they left, and he kept his Wi-Fi open so I could use the internet. Our units were only meters apart, so I could access his connection from my room.
I had no words left. “Thank you” felt worn out from repetition. I wanted to hug him, but he was in a hurry to leave. After he stepped out of my unit, I simply closed my eyes and silently thanked Him. I am not a good person. I am weak and sinful. It is simply that the Lord is gracious and loving to those who call on Him.
I am truly fortunate that on my very first day in South Korea, I met friends like Randy and Nikki. They are more than friends — they are siblings from different wombs. They are the reason my first day in South Korea is so special.
Randy and Nikki are living testimonies of God’s goodness.
“Please Teach Me English!” (3)
(Last of Three Parts)
While trying to establish a good rapport with my students and make the classroom a relaxed environment during initial meetings with my Korean students, I also strive to destroy a fallacy. The process kicks off as soon as I enter the classroom. I start by expressing my happiness in seeing my students in class and hoping they feel the same. Then, I ask a question followed by a related statement. The question is: “Are you expecting the teacher who will come here today to be tall, with yellow hair and fair skin?” This question always elicits mixed reactions from my students. Some look surprised, while others shake their heads to express they are not. Some even laugh, thinking it’s a joke. To follow up, I say: “Well, I am sorry, but I am not tall; my hair is black with some gray strands, and my skin is brown.”
Demystifying A Myth
That statement would also draw mixed reactions. Judging from their facial expressions and reactions, some students took it seriously, and others found it funny. I was both “kiddingly serious” and “seriously kidding” with those pronouncements. Some students responded that they know some foreign professors are from the Philippines. So, they were no longer surprised to see a brown-skinned English teacher with a neutral accent.
Earning my students’ trust is very important as an English expat teacher. What makes accomplishing that necessary and challenging is that I may be an English teacher with the proper qualifications and training, but I am not from any of their preferred native English-speaking countries. Most Korean students expect their ESL/EFL teachers to be citizens of any of the following countries: the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, Ireland, New Zealand, and South Africa. However, I am from the Philippines and proudly a Filipino.
I have a specific reason for asking that question and making the follow-up statement. It serves as a prelude to what I plan to do later – to help my students understand that imitating native English speakers’ accents isn’t the only goal (or not the goal at all) of modern language learning. Korean students are so fixated on imitating American or British accents that if they don’t, they feel like they’ve failed as language learners. This obsession hinders their English learning progress.
I tried to persuade my Korean students that ESL/EFL learners do not necessarily need to mimic the accents of native English speakers. However, is this true? To address this question, I consulted someone who is neither a native English speaker nor a non-native English speaker – it’s Google’s Gemini. I asked the following question: “Is it essential for ESL and EFL learners to imitate the accents of native English speakers?”
Gemini responded in the negative. In explaining why not, it gave the following reasons: the primary goal for most learners is clear and effective communication where understandable pronunciation and proper grammar are more important than a native-like accent; English is a global language with numerous regional variations and accents; and accents are a natural part of language diversity, and many people speak English with accents influenced by their native languages.
The policy of most South Korean universities to exclusively hire ESL/EFL teachers from native English-speaking countries has created a misconception among Korean students (and perhaps among students in countries that implement the “only native speakers of English may apply” policy.). They believe that only teachers from those countries can teach English. This belief equates English proficiency with the ability to sound like native English speakers. However, it is essential to remember that speaking is just one of the four language macro skills language learners need to develop. Even accent training itself is just one of the many components of speaking.
I have been teaching at a university in South Korea for over ten years. Fortunately, some tertiary institutions in this country, including where I am currently working, believe that native English speakers don’t have a monopoly on teaching English. These universities subscribe to ChatGPT’s assertion that non-native English speakers who have learned English as a second language are more empathetic and effective teachers because they are familiar with the challenges faced by second language or foreign language learners.
It can be difficult to dispel the misconception that only native English speakers can effectively teach the language. Therefore, it is crucial for the few Filipinos, including myself, who have been allowed to teach here to demonstrate that we possess the necessary qualifications and pedagogical skills as English teachers. Sharing my educational background, training, and publications with my students on the first day of class is essential. This is not to boast but to assure them that I am well-qualified to teach. This is important because Korean students often verify their teachers’ qualifications. They must understand that I chose to pursue teaching as a profession, and I came to South Korea specifically to teach a subject for which I am trained.
Furthermore, I make it a point to inform my students that I have been teaching for over thirty years. I do this for two main reasons. First, I want to emphasize the extent of my experience in teaching. Second, I aim to convey to my students that my enduring commitment to the academe is driven by my passion for my job. As a teacher, I fully know my purpose and motivation.. I know my why.
What is your WHY?
In the next part of my class orientation script, I will delve into the boundaries of philosophy. I intend to discuss concepts in a manner reminiscent of the speeches delivered in “eve-of-battle” scenes in movies. My starting point would be the question: “Why am I a teacher?
The students were puzzled as they searched for an answer. This was expected, as the question required a long time of reflection. The students were unable to answer it until I provided follow-up questions: Can you call a woman a mother if she doesn’t have a son or a daughter, whether adopted or biological? Would you call a woman mother and a man father without at least a son or a daughter?
As most of them nod in agreement, I say, “I am a teacher because of the students. Each of you is the reason I am a teacher.” This statement reinforces my previous efforts to build a good relationship with my students because I genuinely believe it. This belief influences everything I do as a teacher. I often remind my students that without them, the role of a teacher would not exist. My ultimate goal is to guide and help them become their best. As I fulfill the reason for my existence as a teacher, they benefit in return. We, therefore, maintain a symbiotic relationship.
After that, I would show them a video clip from the movie Collateral Beauty—specifically, the part where Howard Inlet, the character played by Will Smith, delivers a speech at a gathering of his employees at the beginning of the movie. That part of his speech primarily consists of questions: “What is your why? Why did you even get out of bed this morning? Why did you eat what you ate? Why did you wear what you wore? Why did you come here?”
I would pause the video clip after each question and ask the students to answer. Without them noticing it, I was not just attempting to inspire them but also checking their level of comprehension and ability to speak.
Then, I would follow up with questions like, “Why are you here in school?” “Why do you want to finish your studies?” “Why did you enroll in this class?” I always ask these questions because I want my students to understand that to succeed in their studies and future endeavors, they must have the correct answers to those questions. This particular segment of my talk during the class orientation is also geared towards convincing them that getting an A+ is not the be-all and end-all of schooling. Korean students are highly competitive. They are wired that way by their rigorous education system and a society that strongly emphasizes education. They are under pressure to excel academically. What exacerbates the situation is the grading system being relative (or curved), where a certain percentage of students receive A’s, B’s, C’s, and so on.
I believe it’s essential to help my students understand that the grade is not the “why” of learning. It is hard, but I tried to convince them to believe that the purpose of education goes beyond getting good grades. It is about assisting them to acquire the necessary knowledge, skills, and values that will help them achieve their full potential. The ultimate “why” (or the reason) they are enrolled for their university education is not to get an A+ but to prepare themselves to pursue the career they dream of seeking and to live a productive and happy life. I knew the few minutes I used to explain these things during the class orientation was insufficient for them to fully comprehend their significance. Thus, during classes, I found an opportunity to remind them about what I said regarding the real purpose of education.
Before finally presenting them with the syllabus for the course contents and the corresponding requirements, I would ask my last question – “Why do you want to learn English?”
In the movie “Please Teach Me English,” that’s the first question Catherine asked her students during their initial meeting. Based on the responses given by my Korean students, I can categorically say that most of them are motivated to learn the language for extrinsic or practical reasons, similar to Young-ju’s intentions for enrolling in the English program in the film.
English is a core subject in South Korea’s curriculum. Having to study the language from an early age and knowing that it is a critical part of the Suneung (college entrance examination) exert immense pressure on the students to excel in the language. Many of them are even sent by their parents to hagwons to study English after school. The linguistically-inclined Korean students will most likely appreciate and benefit from the experience. Unfortunately, those who don’t find language learning pleasant will find it stressful and tiring. Some of them have mixed feelings towards learning the English language. They know the importance of gaining proficiency in the language but are also burdened by the demands of learning it. I don’t classify my students as novice, intermediate, advanced, superior, and distinguished. Our university doesn’t level-test our students because it is logistically impossible, given how our organization is structured. I categorized them according to what I perceive as their attitude towards the subject – those who love learning English, hate it, and those who both love and hate it. I need to calibrate my teaching methods and strategies to cater equally to those different kinds of language learners.
Students enthusiastic about learning the English language are likely to be the more advanced learners among my students. While I strive to adjust my teaching methods and strategies to accommodate all of them equally, I must pay special attention to students with lower proficiency levels and demonstrate my willingness to help them learn.
The goals I aim to achieve at the end of my class orientations are clear. It is not enough to inform them of the course contents and requirements. The first day of class presents an opportunity for me to establish a good rapport with my students and make them feel that the classroom during our classes is not a prison cell where they will be incarcerated the entire time I teach. Telling them that learning English is not geared towards mimicking the accent of native English speakers but to learn to communicate clearly in the language so they can become global citizens is a must. Asking them about their whys is helping them realize the importance of determining their purpose in life, that they are enrolled in the university not to collect A’s but to become the best versions of themselves, obtaining all the necessary knowledge, skills, and values they need to succeed in all their future personal and professional endeavors.
I want to believe that those who felt the sincerity of my intentions are the ones who, at the end of the class orientation or regular classes, would not hesitate to approach me and say, “I don’t speak English well… please teach me.”
My Continuing Journey In South Korea
When I quit my job as a school administrator in Bulacan to pursue ESL teaching in South Korea, my loved ones and friends strongly advised me to reconsider. They reminded me that I already had a solid career in the academe in the Philippines, and the pay was decent. But as Jake Sully says in the movie Avatar, “Sometimes your whole life boils down to one insane move.”
So, in 2013, I flew to South Korea. But it wasn’t an insane move, rather a calculated risk. I have no regrets, as coming here was one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. Working here has been an enormous blessing. This country is a beautiful place to live. When I arrived, I could confirm the impressions created by the Korean dramas and movies I had watched. Indeed, South Korea is progressive and beautiful, and its citizens are competitive, hard-working, and health-conscious.
Beyond providing financial stability for me and my family, my time in South Korea has fostered tremendous personal and professional growth. The working conditions at the university where I am currently employed are excellent. At first, I could hardly believe that I only needed to work less than 20 hours over four days. We must work only seven months but are paid for the entire year. This arrangement has given me ample time to connect virtually with my family and pursue my other passion—writing. Additionally, our university offers performance points and cash incentives for research projects, further enhancing my love for writing.
I mainly teach English subjects. There have been semesters when I was asked to teach at the graduate school and serve as an adviser to graduate students working on their dissertations. When I’m not engaged in academic work, I dedicate time to writing stories, poems, plays, and scholarly studies, many of which are published on my personal website. Several of my research studies have been presented at international conferences and published in internationally indexed journals. I have genuinely found fulfillment as a writer in this country.
I can’t imagine having any other “job cum hobby” besides teaching and writing. You may ask why. As Seth Godin said, “Do what you love and love what you do.” What I do and love is teaching, and what I love and do is writing. I use the expression “job cum hobby” because, when I engage in these activities, I don’t feel like I’m working; it feels more like pursuing hobbies.
My greatest challenge as a teacher is overcoming the cultural barrier between myself and my Korean students. I address this by building a good rapport with them and diligently fulfilling my responsibilities. Being a Filipino in ESL/EFL teaching places me and my fellow countrymen at a disadvantage. There is a common misconception that only native English speakers can teach the language, and even some of our Korean students believe this. It is something that Filipino English teachers like me must work to dispel. If I were to identify my most significant contribution as a Filipino in my profession, it would be demonstrating to the academic community in South Korea that one doesn’t need to be a native English speaker to be an effective ESL/EFL teacher.
I can’t think of anything negative about my current job; I have nothing but gratitude. I enjoy a harmonious relationship with my coworkers, both Korean and foreign. Although I occasionally clash with fellow foreigners over policy matters and work attitudes, we adhere to the principle of disagreeing without being disagreeable, which helps us maintain mutual respect.
My best advice for my fellow Filipinos working in South Korea is to work hard and respect everyone. Hard work leads to success as expat workers, while respect for others, regardless of citizenship, helps them stay out of trouble. It’s also important to abide by the laws of our host country.
Reflecting on my 12 years here, I see that what began as a leap into the unknown has become the most fulfilling chapter of my life. Teaching and writing—my two greatest passions—have flourished in this country. Embracing new challenges reminds me why I took that “calculated risk” in 2013. South Korea has provided me with opportunities to improve my overall well-being and has reaffirmed my belief that staying true to what you love leads to rewarding outcomes.
South Korea: On To My 12th Year
I remember certain things as my twelfth year here in South Korea commences.
I remember my father. He influenced me to consider plying my trade as a teacher in another country. Thus, when I revisited my career path at the turn of the 21st century (Yup… that was eons ago!), I included teaching in a foreign land as one of my options. It was not until 2008 that I seriously considered it. What led me to give this option a try was my father’s response when I informed him that I had finally completed my Ph.D. I even bragged to him about me being the first one in our clan to become a “doctor.” He, of course, congratulated me but asked, “How much is your salary now?.” I gave him the exact amount and the possible increase because of my newly minted PhD. Then he informed me that one of my cousins, a seaman, receives a higher income even if he has not finished college. All I could do then was scratch my head. Four years after that exchange between me and dad, I finally flew to South Korea in 2013. Had my father not died in 2014, I am sure I could have brought him and my mom here for a vacation.
I also recall the FAPE accreditors who interviewed me in 2012 when I was the Principal of a basic education institution in the Philippines. The school I was supervising then applied for FAPE re-accreditation. One of them asked why I left the previous schools where I worked. The interviewer even noted that I had good supervisory positions in those schools. However, the question irritates me a little bit because it seems that for that educator who asked it, something is wrong with somebody in any profession if they move so often from one workplace to another. Why, then, do people immediately label the constant movement of an employee from one company or institution to another as a red flag? What if that employee has justifiable reasons to quit and find another job? I had good reasons for jumping out of those ships. How I wish I could divulge the reasons.
I decided to reply politely to that question: “I have not quite found my niche yet.”
That was true. I had a great run as a teacher and school administrator but wasn’t satisfied. My mother helped me figure out the reason for such dissatisfaction – I could not give time for my other passion – writing. My mom is my number one fan as a writer. She loves reading my stories and poems. She was the one who kept reminding me about my gift of writing. Just like me, my mom loves writing stories.
Then, on March 2, 2013, much to my father’s delight, I flew here to South Korea to teach English.
Leaving my country to work here was both a professional and a personal decision. I suffered from severe job burnout then. I wanted to just be a teacher and not hold a supervisory position at the same time. I just want to teach and to pursue my other passion – writing. On the personal side, I had some personal demons to slay… too personal to share. Suffice it to say that the job burnout, combined with the consequences of some wrong decisions I made, led to depression. If I did not do something to address it, I wasn’t sure if I would emerge from that chaos with my sanity still intact. I escaped from that turmoil and could not have chosen a better place than the Land of the Morning Calm to soothe my hurting spirit and continue my academic career.
So, I got what I wished – to teach only and not supervise people at the same time. The pleasant surprise I got when I started teaching here was the required number of working hours – less than 20. Four days a week, teach for not more than 16 hours and stay in the office for possible visits from students for 3 hours. I have 3 full days and plenty of vacant hours during work days to do the other things I love – particularly writing and working out in the gym.
So, did I finally find my niche?
South Korea has turned out to be the best place where I can pursue both teaching and writing. I am so blessed to be in this corner of the Korean peninsula. Way back in my native land, it was only my academic career that blossomed. I may not have fulfilled my dream of operating my own school, but I checked a significant box in my career path – becoming a college dean.
But I am not just a teacher… I am also a writer. Being a teacher and a school administrator at the same time in my country gobbled up my time and energy. I could not focus on my writing. I was lucky to have at least a poem, an essay, or a story in a week. But here in South Korea, with all the free time that I had ( and still have), I could scratch my creative itch to the fullest. I still do until now. And the bonus… I was able to pursue my self-improvement advocacy.
Oh… I might forget. Every semester, we get to work only for 15 weeks. I already did the math; technically, we have 5 months of vacation a year. But we continue to receive pay. What a blessing! I have lots and lots of free time to use for my writing and my advocacy for self-improvement. Now, I have my own websites and social media accounts where I publish the things I write… where I blog and vlog.
The niche I was looking for was a place where I could be most productive professionally and personally. It is here in South Korea where I found that niche. I cannot thank God enough for leading me here. South Korea is my second home, and I feel so blessed that I am now in my twelfth year… and praying for more years to come.
I will forever be indebted to Dr. Larry Chong and Gyeongju University for paving the way for my entry to South Korea. That indebtedness extends to Hanseo University for being my home for the past 10 years.
K-DREAM
Korean motifs are slowly replacing American imprints in our culture as Filipinos. More and more of my compatriots say annyeonghaseyo instead of hello and gamsahamnida instead of thank you. Oppa has become a popular endearment for women calling their boyfriends or husbands and telling them saranghaeyo instead of “I love you.” We Filipinos are so enamored of K-pop and K-drama, which have greatly influenced our lives. The youngsters, in particular, embrace the music of their K-pop idols and dress the way they do.
In my country, especially in urban areas, restaurants offer samgyeopsal, bibimbap, Korean ramen, and other famous Korean dishes. Products made in South Korea are flooding our supermarkets and grocery stores. It is no longer surprising to find soju sold in sari-sari stores and shared by Filipinos when they dine and wine.
Should we be concerned? Are we losing our Filipino identity? We’re not. Our culture is just entering a new phase of development. Remember that culture is dynamic, never static. It evolves continuously.
It is common knowledge that the ongoing assimilation of Korean influences into our culture was engendered by Hallyu. This phenomenon depicts the popularity of South Korean pop culture, not only in our country but globally. Yes, we’re not the only ones obsessed with Korean cultural content. It was reported that by 2022, there were more or less 177 million Hallyu fans worldwide.
Hallyu is one of the 26 Korean words added to the Oxford English Dictionary. When translated to English, the word literally means Korean Wave. With the way that this cultural phenomenon struck the world, tsunami, instead of the word wave, would have been a better term. But tsunami is a Japanese word, and given the history of these countries, the word may not rhyme politically.
The gigantic waves of music, TV shows, and movies from the southern portion of the Korean peninsula reached our shores at the turn of the 21st century. Since then, our TV stations have regularly aired many Korean dramas dubbed in Filipino. Korean movies with English or Filipino subtitles are shown in Philippine movie theatres. Magazines and the entertainment sections of newspapers regularly featured K-pop artists and other Korean TV and movie personalities. Before we knew it, the Korean brand had already profoundly penetrated the Filipino consciousness.
Admittedly, I knew little about South Korea before the Korean Wave came. I remember checking the encyclopedia for information about the Korean War when I took World History in college. At that time, I was researching wars America fought for an article I wrote for our school paper, and the Korean War from 1950 to 1953 was one of them. Then, I discovered that our country sent troops to help South Koreans ward off the Communist invasion from north of its borders.
Without the help of the United Nations’ international forces, the Korean peninsula might have fallen under Communist rule. The thought that soldiers from my country helped in not allowing that to happen made me feel proud. Imagine this – had it been Kim Jong-un ruling the whole of Korea now (and his father and grandfather in the past), there would have been no Hallyu to talk about. Instead of K-pop and K-drama, the hot topics could have been K-missile and K-nuke.
Just imagine how dreadful a picture of the war-torn Korean peninsula the things I read about it created in my mind. It was horrible, to say the least. The narrative of the death and destruction was a clear indictment of the futility of war. Those three years were perhaps one of the darkest chapters in the history of South Korea. It was comparable to the three years that my country was under Japanese occupation during the Second World War as well as the period between 1898 and 1901 when the Filipino revolutionaries helplessly fought a war against the much superior American forces who grabbed the Philippine archipelago from the Spaniards.
But before completing my university education, I had another chance to read more about South Korea. That was when the country hosted the 1988 Summer Olympics. The sporting event put the land south of the 38th parallel line all over the news. It triggered my curiosity, prompting me to check not anymore the pages in the encyclopedia about the Korean War but also books written about the country, magazine articles featuring it, and the newspapers covering the Olympics at that time.
I saw a country different from what those pages about the Korean War created in my mind. I discovered that the nation called the “Land of the Morning Calm” rebounded from the horrors of the Korean War and eventually became very progressive. Then I wondered at that time and asked – “What did the South Koreans do that enabled them to, like the legendary Phoenix, rise from the ashes of a horrendous war and even become only the second country in Asia to host the world’s biggest summer sporting event?” Why could they afford to host such an event that would cost them millions and millions (if not billions) of dollars?
My perception of South Korea changed overnight from a country impoverished, war-stricken, and divided into modern and progressive. The pity I felt for the Koreans when they were ravaged by the war during the early 1950s was replaced by amazement and… envy.
As the years passed, I learned more and more about South Korea through traditional media and the Internet, which eventually became more accessible than when I was a university student. I got to hear more and more Korean music and see more and more Korean dramas.
I will never forget how in 2006, the Korean drama Jewel in The Palace would make me stop whatever I do at night to ensure I see all of it. I was so glued to it. Is it because of the story or the pretty face of Lee Young-ae, the actress who played the role of Jang Geum (the drama’s lead character)? I really don’t know. It may be the setting. I am a student of World History, and the story provides a glimpse of how life was in the Korean peninsula during the Chosun dynasty. The Koreanovelas “Stairway to Heaven,” “Lovers in Paris,” “Winter Sonata,” and “Baker King” were the ones that introduced me to contemporary life and society in South Korea. The first Korean movie I watched was “Please Teach Me English.” The supervisor of the Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) certificate program, which I attended in 2009, recommended it.
These cultural imports from South Korea made me want to visit the country like many Filipinos. I wanted to visit the places in the country that I could only see on TV programs and movies. I wanted to visit Seoul and go to Gangnam and Myeongdong. I wanted to have a summer vacation on the island of Jeju. I wanted to try soju and maekju, and the combination of the two – somaek. I wanted to taste kimchi and eat Korean dishes prepared and served by Korean chefs. I wanted to try tteokbokki, pyo haejangguk, and kalguksu, together with plenty of banchan (side dishes) in a restaurant in South Korea, not in Korean restaurants or the mall’s food courts in my native land. I wanted to meet actual Korean people and mingle with them. Once, I even jokingly told a friend I wanted to have a Korean girlfriend. In short, I desired to have an authentic Korean experience. My K-dream – “Korean dream” – is taking shape and getting embedded in my consciousness.
That urge strengthened when I decided to take the TESOL certificate program. That was when I watched my first Korean movie, the one I previously mentioned – “Please Teach Me English.” South Korea was mentioned by the program coordinator as one of the countries considered the premiere destination for ESL teachers. The said movie gave me a glimpse of the state of English education in that country. There’s a scene in that movie where Young-ju, the lead character played by the actress Lee Na-young, could be seen eating a page of an English dictionary, believing that it would improve her vocabulary. That part of the movie embodies how much of a big deal it is to learn English for South Koreans.
Thus, since teaching abroad is an option in the career path I set for myself, should I have the opportunity to teach overseas, why not in South Korea? My K-dream suddenly evolved, and I no longer just wanted to have an authentic Korean cultural experience but to work there as an English teacher.
Then I did what I had to do for that dream to come true. I completed my training in TESOL, and I left no stone unturned. I searched the Internet for job openings for ESL teachers in South Korea. At that time, I was also suffering from job burnout. I got physically and emotionally exhausted from my job as a school administrator, and I wanted to return to being a plain teacher.
K-DREAM (Part 3)
(Last of 3 Parts)
For me, it is amazing how this country has gone this far, leaving my native land behind in the race to prosperity and stability. I want to know in what areas we Filipinos should improve if we intend to catch up with the South Koreans, and the rest of the world, in that race.
My desire to figure that out led me to read more about the history of this country. In the process, I discovered certain uncanny similarities between our historical experiences. South Korea and my native land are colonized nations and earned independence after the Second World War, and both countries embraced the democratic form of government. Additionally, just like in my country, the development of democracy in South Korea was also interrupted by military takeovers. And what a coincidence that martial law in this country and mine was declared in 1972. Was it also a coincidence that influential military leaders in both countries were removed via popular revolt in the mid-1980s?
Unfortunately, the similarities in the historical development of South Korea and my country stop there. We took different paths in building our nations from the ashes of colonization, the Second World War, and military juntas. However, the results differed even when the two countries were under totalitarian regimes with identical circumstances. Historians assert that it brought rapid industrialization to South Korea but, unfortunately, economic stagnation in the Philippines.
I really tried hard to figure out what happened. What went wrong for my country, and conversely, what did the South Koreans do correctly? To think that in the 1950s, while my country was soaking in the glory of being Asia’s second most robust economy, the Korean peninsula plunged into a devastating war.
I tried to probe deeper into this nation’s history to find the answers to the following questions I have in mind.
How did the South Koreans slay the ghosts of a bitter colonial past?
How did they survive the devastation wrought by the Korean War?
How did they triumph over internal political turmoil while trying to ward off a belligerent neighbor in North Korea?
How did the South Koreans accomplish all of those mentioned above and eventually catapult themselves to their current lofty position in the global community?
In my probe, I learned what the South Koreans did in 1998 at the height of the Asian financial crisis. They willingly donated their gold – jewelry (including their wedding rings), medals and trophies, good luck keys, and what have you. This they did to help save their economy during that crisis. As reported, the collective weight of the gold they donated may not be much. But more significant than the corresponding monetary value of their donation was the willingness of the South Koreans to make personal sacrifices for their country. Will the Filipinos do the same? I am not sure.
I call what the South Koreans did then an act of nationalism. If it’s not, then I don’t know what is. It is the same sense of nationalism that emboldened them to resist one military junta after another… to sacrifice their lives and limbs to lay the democratic foundations of their country, which eventually became a fertile ground that nurtured the economic prosperity they are currently enjoying.
Yes, my fellow Filipinos also sacrificed and resisted a dictatorship and, in the process, have even created the blueprint for a bloodless revolution – the EDSA revolution. But why were the Korean people able to ride the momentum of their victory after toppling a dictator to collectively bring their nation to prosperity, but we Filipinos could not? After both countries were ruled by dictators in 1972 and eventually returned to democracy approximately in 1987, where are they now economically and socio-politically speaking? ANSWER – South Korea is among the top 15 economies in the world, and the Philippines is far below the ranking. How did this happen?
My search for answers to questions that kept piling up prompted me to further my probe. After turning pages in the history of South Korea and my country, I decided to factor in variables that affect a country’s socio-political and economic development.
We know that nation-building is affected by geographical location, the pervading climate, political stability, natural resources, and human resources. Arguably, there are other factors, and those that I identified are obviously important. But the most vital in a country’s quest for development on all fronts is human resources. How far a country goes in terms of overall growth is contingent upon the quality or nature of its people.
National character is the construct used to embody the quality or nature of a group of people living in a country. Using Hofstede’s Cultural Dimension Theory (Hofstede’s 6-D Model) and the results of the extensive research done by its proponents on the cultures of 118 countries, I decided to make a simple comparative analysis of the national characters of South Koreans and Filipinos, hoping to find reasons why the latter is eating the dust of the former in the race to global significance.
I discovered that the Philippines is a highly hierarchical society, while South Korea is only slightly hierarchical. People in hierarchical organizations are said to embrace the notion that power is naturally unequally distributed and believe there is nothing they can do about it. They defer too much to their leaders, thinking that they are infallible.
That’s how we Filipinos are. We embrace the politicians we decided to follow to the point of fanatism, and we support them to a fault. The South Koreans also respect their leaders, but they strongly demand accountability.
Filipinos and South Koreans are collectivist societies, but the latter do not embrace individualism like the former. We Filipinos may have somehow absorbed the individualistic tendencies of our colonizers.
Filipinos are not so collectivistic. As a matter of fact, we are afflicted with a trait that we need to overcome if we wish to make our nation great. That trait is “kanya-kanya” – the tendency to think of personal, family, and group interests over and above general welfare. The South Koreans are quite the opposite. They consider the welfare of the many as necessary, if not more important than their personal interests. No wonder, as I previously mentioned, they donated their gold during the financial crisis in 1998. I also witnessed first-hand how the South Koreans willingly obeyed the restrictions set by their government during the early onslaught of the COVID-19 pandemic. Their leaders did not need to implement a “hard lockdown” like other countries did, including mine. The citizens strictly wore their masks, observed social distancing, and avoided leaving their homes unless necessary. They have shown their willingness to sacrifice for the greater good.
What is the reason behind the success of the political upheavals in my country in the 1980s not translating to meaningful socio-political and economic gains? Was it because they were driven not by the collective will of the Filipino people but by partisan politics?
What was clearly articulated in the findings of the extensive research done by the proponents of Hofstede’s 6-D Model is that the cultural dimensions of power distance (hierarchy) and collectivism/individualism are significantly positively correlated with wealth or prosperity. The Korean experience had me inferring that the less hierarchical and more collectivistic a society is, the more progressive it could become. And this has all the more expanded my K-dream. I wish Filipinos, like the South Koreans, would be less hierarchical and more collectivistic. Like them, we should demand accountability from our leaders. Like them, let’s think of the general welfare over and above our personal, group, and party interests. An important component of thinking for the common good is remembering our civic responsibilities, including contributing whatever we can to nation-building. But while we hold our leaders accountable, we should not forget that we, as citizens, have accountability too. Nation-building is a shared responsibility between leaders and citizens.
We must ask if Filipinos knowingly copied hook, line, and sinker the socio-political and economic models of our colonizers, or were we unknowingly indoctrinated or coerced to adopt them? Either way, what is clear is that we have yet to get desirable results. After decades of applying their economic and socio-political systems, our country is where it is now. Our needle of success as a nation needs to be moving. But we have been trying to fit the square peg of the countries that colonized us into our round hole. And to no avail. It’s not working. It’s time for us to rethink our strategies for nation-building. And this brings me to the culmination of my K-dream. I wish that we Filipinos give the South Korean economic, social, and political models a try. Let’s see what will happen if we embrace not only the popular culture of the South Koreans but also the standards and values that brought them to where they are now.
K-DREAM (Part 2)
(Second of 3 Parts)
My initial searches ended in disappointment. All the available positions I saw were open only to citizens of native English-speaking countries. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that such a policy exists. I never thought that “native-speakerism” was real. Why, in a world where only native English speakers would be allowed to teach the English language? I consider that policy illogical and downright discriminatory. If they imposed that policy because of accent, those who created and enforced it have seemingly forgotten that speaking is only one of the four language macro skills. The other three are reading, writing, and listening. An accent is not the be-all and end-all of English language education. Accent itself is only one of the many components of speaking.
Why most Asian universities hire native English speakers only to teach English is beyond my comprehension. But I did not lose hope. I kept the faith and clung to the belief that some universities in South Korea think Filipinos like me and other nationalities could teach English with the necessary qualifications and training. These universities understand that accent should not be the sole basis for hiring ESL teachers but should be language knowledge and pedagogical skills. It is also impossible that no university in South Korea knows that many South Koreans are studying (or have studied) English in my country. So, I kept searching for openings for ESL teachers.
It turned out that I was right. Some tertiary institutions in South Korea hire qualified ESL teachers from any country, particularly from the Philippines. My persistence eventually paid off. My wish was granted, and I was allowed to live my K-dream when a university hired me as a teacher.
So, off to South Korea, I flew in 2013.
As soon as I exited Gimhae Airport, I started having that authentic Korean experience that I dreamt of going through. The early spring weather giving me an icy cold welcome got it going. In a few minutes, while walking toward the bus that would bring us to Gyeongju city, I realized how insufficient my clothes were against the cold. That moment I fully understood the meaning of the phrasal verb bundle up. But the chilly breeze could not dislodge my excitement at the thought that my dream was coming to fruition. Even when homesickness started to creep in, I would remind myself that I came to South Korea to pursue my K-dream, a dream that was slowly becoming a reality.
As days and weeks passed, I gradually immersed myself in the country’s culture. I was no longer just watching the people of my host country on the TV, the silver screen, and the Internet. It’s no longer a Korean drama I was watching, but it’s real Korean life I was witnessing and actually experiencing… from reel to real. I got what I wanted.
I started mingling with real Korean people – men and women in flesh and blood, not fictional characters. I saw that, indeed, their skin is silky white, and they are taller, on average, than Filipinos. I became a friend to many of them. I talked and laughed with them. I dined with them, drank their wine and beer, ate their kimchi and delicious dishes, and started speaking (a little) of their language.
I witnessed their way of life and even adopted some parts of it. I saw what was inside their houses, churches, other religious temples, theatres, bars, restaurants, and coffee shops. I have entered their museums, watched cultural shows in their theatres, watched movies in their cinemas, strolled in their parks, worked out in their gyms, and hiked in their mountains.
I could also probe their character through daily encounters with my Korean students, colleagues, and friends. I confirmed that just like what I saw in their dramas, South Koreans fall in love, get angry, feel sad and happy, and suffer from anxiety and stress. In short, just like me or any average human being from any part of the world, they also ride the roller coaster of emotions.
They have strengths and weaknesses too, and they are not faultless… like me. Anyway, nobody is.
Like me and my fellow Filipinos, they get mad at corrupt politicians. Like us, they march to the streets and let their government, and sometimes their employers, hear their dissatisfaction and grievances. I noticed that the South Koreans, compared to Filipinos, protest more orderly and civilly.
Yes, they also have fears and uncertainties. Additionally, just like me and anyone else, they have dreams and ambitions too. They have plans and a vision of a good life in the future for themselves and their families. Just like normal humans, they fear death, sickness, and failure. Those who embrace religion among them pray and seek God’s love, grace, and mercy.
I thought my K-dream was already complete with all those experiences and discoveries. I was wrong.
As I lived and worked in South Korea longer, I discovered that their prosperity is not a myth. Those things I saw in Korean dramas and movies that indicate that their country is progressive and modernized are not figments of the imagination, and they are not just props in their films. Their provinces, cities, and towns are effectively interconnected by impressive highway systems that I wish we could also have in my country of origin. More and more items get included in my “wish list.” I want our telecom companies to provide Internet connectivity as fast as South Korea’s. We should be able also to download a movie in less than a minute or a little more.
With all these additional discoveries, I could not help but compare this country to mine. I could not help but envy the South Koreans for what they have accomplished as a nation. As I stayed here longer, my wish list grew longer. How I wish that in my country, packages could be left in front of our doors, even for days, not fearing that somebody would steal them. How I wish that we could also call the police to stop noisy neighbors who, even when it’s midnight already, would still sing their lungs out with the volume of their karaoke maxed. How I wish that politicians found by the law guilty of wrongdoings, particularly corruption and malversation of public funds, would no longer have the gall to run for reelection.
I realized that my K-dream still needed to be completed. It actually expanded. I dream that Filipinos will take research as seriously and meticulously as Koreans do one day. To them, research is a huge deal. Whatever advances in the different fields of science and technology they have achieved could be attributed to their obsession with research. Consequently, their electrical and electronic products, heavy equipment and machinery, passengers and cargo ships, and cars are sought after in the world market. The list of world-class products that they export is long. The reason for this is that they prioritize research. What about us in the Philippines? Where do we put research in the list of our priorities? Unfortunately, we don’t consider research as seriously as the South Koreans do. That’s the sad reality. I even remember one senator giving one particular department in our executive branch of the government a tongue-lashing during a senate hearing because that department allotted a lot of its budget for research purposes.
Whatever metrics I used for the comparison, it was a mismatch with South Korea always ending up on top after all the comparative analyses I performed except for this – my country has a younger population where the median age is less than 26 years, and for this country, it’s been more than 40 years. But overall, South Korea is much ahead of my native land. The superiority of this country will become more glaring should I cite other categories like life expectancy, GDP, and international ranking of universities.
As an academician, I turn green-eyed, seeing South Korea has at least five universities constantly landing among the top 100 in the world annually. Why can’t the universities in my country break into even just the top 400? I know the answer – research. One of the criteria used in determining the annual ranking of world universities is how often their faculty members publish in indexed journals. The lower the rank of a university, the lesser it prioritizes research. In addition, South Korean students perform better in Math and Science than my country’s youth.
If there is any consolation, Filipinos are more proficient in English than South Koreans. But does it matter if we are better at English? Does it make my country more prosperous? The answer is obvious – NO. No direct correlation exists between a country’s English proficiency and economic performance.
My country also has a lower suicide rate. But is that something that we Filipinos could crow about? We say that rarely do Filipinos commit suicide. But we do something worse than taking our own lives, and that is selling our votes during elections. By doing so, we don’t harm our bodies but our dreams and future as a nation. We put the destiny of our children and our country in the hands of wolves in sheep’s clothing or alligators wearing tuxedos. We unwittingly put the reins of our government in the hands of corrupt politicians, thereby killing, again, not ourselves but the possibility of having competent leaders who could lead our country to prosperity and greatness.
There were politicians in South Korea who, after being accused of engaging in corruption or any wrongdoing, committed suicide. Shame and disgrace were too much for them to bear, and this is never heard of in the Philippines. Instead of taking their own lives (or at least retiring from politics), you will find politicians accused (and found guilty) of stealing from the national coffers while running for reelection. And the wonder of wonders – they still win.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 