Fulbright U.S. Student
Grantee Newsletter

Welcoming Ambiguity in Korea

After several months as an ETA, I have discovered that the word “typical” doesn't apply.  Every day encompasses elements of routine, surprise and experimentation, but no two days are quite the same.

Emily Kessel, 2009-2010, ETA in Korea (second from right, in blue sweater), with some of her students around Halloween

Having the freedom to create my own lessons allows me to cater to students that I see once, twice or even three times a week.  A well-received lesson can be recycled throughout the week, whereas a catastrophic lesson can be revamped to fit the needs of the next class.  I have been forewarned that every class has a personality of its own.  I have yet to find an equation that satisfies all classes.

Place a student in a classroom with a different group of peers and anything can happen.  Individual and group mentalities often do not correlate.  An active participant in a high-level class transforms into a distracted, rambunctious student in a mixed-level class.  A student who strikes up invigorating conversations outside of school does not utter a word in the classroom.  Such varying circumstances make the search for a typical day difficult.  If there is such thing as a typical day, it is one in which strategies are attempted and challenges are met on a daily basis.  Certain hours are set, but what happens within that timeframe is unpredictable.

Given the diverse classroom personalities, my freedom as an ETA has proven to be both refreshing and draining.  Following a poorly-worded textbook dialogue is something I gladly avoid.  However, my students’ attention spans only remain intact if certain criteria are met.  Korean celebrities must be present and my activities need to vary each week.  If a Pictionary game works wonders one week, a similar activity will no longer dazzle them the following week.  These criteria may convey the definition of what it means to be high maintenance, but it forces me to not neglect my creativity or follow a tedious routine.  Along with my students' varying interests, my goals are constantly being reevaluated as I learn which areas are within my control and correct to pursue.

Creating interactive lessons that allow students to excel in English is within my control.  Making every student take a keen interest in this Western language is not.  Everyday, I strive to teach my students something valuable whether that is teaching English expressions, providing exposure to another point of view or culture, or (if English is not something they wish to excel in) instilling a desire to make the best of any situation.  Listening to and observing my students is teaching me how to attempt to meet their needs.

In my mind, a part of me will always be a student.  This mindset has been helping me as a Fulbright ETA.  Where does my focus lie?  There may not be a spreadsheet outlining the typical day of a Fulbright ETA, but this ambiguity should be welcomed.  Being an ETA is no longer limited to what is written in textbooks, journals or blogs, but is something to make your own.

To comment on Emily Kessel's article on State Alumni, please click here.    

Clash of the Michael Doumas in Bedum

I'm spending my Fulbright year in Amsterdam studying the historical connections between the U.S. and the Netherlands.  For almost ten years now, I have been interested in these connections and in Dutch immigrants in the U.S.  My doctoral dissertation titled "The Evolution of Dutch American Identities" describes how nineteenth century Dutch immigrants to the U.S. interpreted and maintained their Dutch cultural identity.  The Dutch American community formed as a conservative, Calvinist subculture which saw Dutch language and identity as essential to maintaining religious orthodoxy.  Subsequent generations alternately distanced themselves from the Netherlands, drew on Dutch history to promote their sense of worth, capitalized on Dutch themes for heritage events and tried to reestablish cultural institutions with direct links the old country.  For the past 160 years, Dutch Americans have consciously maintained a sense of "Dutchness," but on what it means to be Dutch, no two could entirely agree.

This past Christmas, I visited relatives in a small, northern Dutch village.  The village of Bedum could hardly be more different than the capital city.  Amsterdam is exciting: it's international, active, and intellectual.  But it's also crowded, sometimes unfriendly and usually shut by six p.m.  After a three-hour train ride in an appropriately Christmas-y, northward direction, I found myself at a station in the middle of a potato field covered in snow.  I called my relative and told him I had made it to Bedum.  His car appeared a few minutes later, and we were off to the house.

When I stepped inside, I spotted my nemesis: a six-year old with my very same name.  And the kid is impressive.  He tells me he can name fifty bird species that inhabit the Netherlands.

"Wow, a whole fifty."  I said.

Michael Douma, 2009-2010, the Netherlands, with "little" Michael Douma

With four generations of Douma family members present in the house, the Douma women outnumbered the men eight to four.  The family served coffee and tea continuously throughout the day.  This meant I endured an approximately thirty-six hour experiment testing the effects of heavy doses of caffeine on an uninitiated foreigner.  Given that they are also strict Protestants, the before-and-after meal prayers, combined with sips and glurps of coffee, gave the day a steady rhythm.

In the Netherlands, Christmas lasts for two days.  The 26th of December is known as the "Second Christmas Day."  I think this idea is fantastic, and I'm proud of the Dutch for such a convenient invention.  The Douma family did well during 2009 and served delicious food.  Yet oddly, no presents were to be seen.  In fact, the only presents were the few I brought for the grandchildren: a box of Legos, a set of colored pencils and a stuffed Cookie Monster.  I'm thankful that the "Koekjes Monster" is also a well-known figure among four-year old Dutch girls, as little Christie Douma's big smile indicated when she tore wrapping paper off the stuffed monster.

It was great to be welcomed into a family for Christmas during my Fulbright grant.  We've been in contact for years, and we share a last name, but I am barely on the same branch of the family tree.  For example, little Michael and I share a common ancestor some six or seven generations back.  I know it might look bad for the Fulbright Program when one of its own loses board games to a six-year old, but I've already promised that I'll have my revenge the next time I visit Bedum.

To comment on Michael Douma's article on State Alumni, please click here.