Dumb Ass in the Class

Not everyone should attend the venerable institution of higher learning oherwise known as university.
Although I was utterly shocked by the events at Virginia Tech and have been following most everything that has been written about it, I myself wasn't going to share my thougths publicly, my blog mostly being a loose compilation of introspective ramblings and observations. However, two things happened that I just must mention here because they both puzzle and sadden me.


I attended a conference in Gyeongjyu this past weekend (a misadventure deserving a seperate entry, but am too busy to write about it). During lunch, I shared my lunch table with a group of local Gyeongsan-do teachers, mostly from Gyeongju and a couple of pretty silent ladies from Ulsan. Being the only foreigner at the table, I was, as was expected, the target of everyone's curiosity. In about 20 seconds, they know my age, my marital status and my country of origin - Canada. Ah, the beauty of possessing the passport of such a nice, peaceful country. I earn instant brownie points just for being in possession of that little blue book, god bless it.

We start eating. As I am attempting to slurp glass noodles from the bulgogi dish without splattering the bulgogi juice all over my shirt, a guy, in his early 40's, sitting across, asks me, out of the blue: "What are the gun laws in Canada like?" I am instantly aware where he's heading with this, but still hope for a fraction of a second that I didn't hear right. Alas, I did, as he proceeds to say: " Is it easy to get a gun in Canada as it is in America?" I point at my full mouth and my body langauge speaks that I can't answer at the moment. The whole group, even the pretty silent ladies, start talking in Korean. I don't understand all of it but I get the gist from buzzwords like "Virgina Tech, Cho Sanghui, waygook, Miguk, Miguk Saram, Uri nara"

My Korean is bad enough that I cannot repeat all the words that were said, but good enough to have understood that their take on cause of the Virginia Tech tragedy is the lax gun laws in the States. I am angered and saddened and I want to argue with them, tell them that I am sick and tired of warped theories in Korea about anything that even slightly tarnishes the overly polished self-image of Koreans (not that the Virginia incident does, btw, as no one, other than Koreans and racists puts an emphasis on Cho's ethnic background). At the same time I feel weak and outnumbered, and I realize the utility of arguing. Anyone who can ask a perfect waygook saram stranger such a question and with such an unmistakeable agenda is not going to listen to anyone's argument but his own. Although I keep munching on my noodles as if they were made of stainless steel, I cannot munch forever, and the man is still waiting for my answer, which leaves me with no other choice but to finally succumb to the pressure of 8 pairs of eyes staring at me expectantly and answer that our laws are much stricter, indeed. Luckily, they go into another cacophony of aforementioned buzzwords, which gives me a chance to quickly finish my meal and skulk away.

This was an isolated incident, I thought, and I chose to forget about it. A lot of nonsense has been said in the Korean (and world ) media, but I was still surprised that ordinary people would confront an unsuspecting foreigner whom they barely know with such a sensitive issue. After years of living in Korea, I should know better, I guess.

Tonight, however, something else happened. My freshmen class had their oral exam. The exam form was very simple: two students sit in front of me for about 10 minutes; each draws a question, ask the other person, then based on the answer, they have a cluster of follow-up questions and answers. The 30 questions had been handed out to students at the beginning of the semester to allow them time to prepare and practice. The two last students were not the brightest and best prepared among about 60 others. One of the questions was: "If you could choose to study at any university in the world, which one would you choose and why?" Now, you can guess what majority of answers there were: Harvard, of course. Koreans, as I am sure you know, believe in Harvard even more than in the curative powers of kimchi.

Well, the answer of the student who was part of the last exam team was different. He said: " I would choose Virginia Tech." He was supposed to give a complex, 3-4 sentence answer, but his poor English and the lack of preparation wouldn't let him. His friend, to save the situation, asked a follow-up question: "Why would you like to study there?" Can you guess what his answer was? I was expecting to hear something about ' an apology for the sins of a Korean', the popular mantra these days, but no! He was much more shockingly original than that. He said, sniggering all the while: "Because I have a gun." I am frozen in shock and can't say anything for a few moments. I just stare at the two young men doubled over in laughter. Finally, I am composed enough to say: "Stop, please. Do you think this is funny?" They are still laughing, not realizing how upset I am. I say more loudly: "Stop laughing! This is not funny. Do you find it funny that 32 young students, like yourself, were killed by a mentally sick person?" One of them stops laughing, but the other, the one who gave this moronic answer, cannot stop. He is chocking with suppressed laughter. I am a hot whirlpool of shock, anger, incredulity, disappointment. I feel so alien, sitting across these two. I want to kick them out of my office, but at the same time I am doing my best to be rational, reminding myself that they are indeed very young, not even 20, that they are very inexperienced and unworldly, and that for them Virginia Tech is very far away and very unreal. The only reason they even know about it is because the killer hailed from Korea.

Finally, they both manage to sit in front of me with straight faces. Then, as if in an attempt to save face (or his grade?), the 'funny one' says: "I have a gun to protect myself." I tell him again that his joke is not funny. Would he make such a joke if similar tragedy had happened at our university or any other Korean university? Can't he feel for other humans who are not Korean? By now, he's grown silent. I don't know if he's embarassed or worried about the consequences for his grade. I ask them to draw another question, and somehow we manage to reach the end of the exam. As they are leaving my office, I am (I think) fully composed and I wish them a good night and a nice ride home. Then, I can hear them laughing in the corridor.


It's about an hour later, and I am still very upset. I know I shouldn't be writing in such a condition. I shouldn't write too many things in the heat of the moment, as they might be unfair, and my 'reporting' emotionally coloured. But, I have to.

I think about the Korean 'han,' the sadness over all the misfortunes and injustices, real and exaggerated imposed on Korea throughout history. Why can't there be a fraction of that sadness and sympathy for the general human condition, not just Korean condition?


Perhaps I am so sensitive because over the weekend I was 'manhandled' by one too many angry, unfriendly, dishonest people who barked in their harsh dialect. The insensitivity of my lunch companions and my own two students just added insult to injury. I keep humming Sting's song: "I am an alien, I am a legal alien." Quite Freudian.. I need something good to happen, quickly. I need a quick shot of Korean kindness and hospitality to recover that (hopefully) temporarily lost feeling of being at home so far away from home.