Like many foreigners who have traveled to Korea, I went there as an English teacher. I was perhaps better-qualified than most, as I actually had an M.A. in TESOL, yet I felt very unprepared. I had concerns about my ability to teach, and about my ability to cope in a foreign land, should loneliness set in and I find myself without friends. I was not going to Seoul, the metropolitan capital where thousands of Americans and other weigookin can be found, but to Andong, a small, rural agricultural city in the Korean heartland.
But I had never lived in another country, and had made only one brief trip overseas in my life. I was at a point in my life where I was still young enough that I could afford to go live somewhere "exotic" for a year or two and not make much money, but I wouldn't be able to for much longer. And I had the opportunity to teach at a university, an opportunity not easy to get for freshly-minted M.A.s in the States.
I had actually agreed to come to Andong National University almost a year earlier. However, while I prepared for my overseas trip, Korea's economy bottomed-out at the end of 1997, in what's now known as the Asian financial crisis, or in Korea, "the IMF crisis." Suddenly the exchange rate had nearly doubled, which meant the pay in Korean won I'd be receiving was now worth about half as much in U.S. dollars. In 1997, before the Asian crisis hit, the exchange rate had been stable at about 850 won/dollar. For awhile, in early 1998, it was running up over 1800 won/dollar, and some economists made dire predictions of the won topping 3000. Now, Korea's economy seems to be recovering, and the exchange rate has been holding steady between 1100-1200 won/dollar. The likelihood that it will ever get back to its pre-IMF rate is remote.
The "IMF Era" is so-named because of the International Monetary Fund, essentially a global bank -- largely, though not entirely, subsidized by the U.S. -- which helps bails out countries whose economies are going down the tubes. In return for offering billions of dollars which everyone knows will probably never be repaid, the IMF imposes conditions on debtor nations, intended to force them to get their economies in order. Naturally, the imposition of conditions by foreign bankers, often unpopular conditions which may result in even greater short-term pain, like higher unemployment and more business failures, is humiliating, especially coming on the heels of a national economic disaster. Thus, "IMF" became synonymous in Korea with financial hardship and suffering in the global economy.
This obviously impacted every foreigner living in Korea. Japan had been tightening its standards for English teachers for years, so no longer could someone expect to "make a mill-yen in Japan" just by being a native English speaker. However, Korea was (and still is) an easy market for English teachers, and quite a few Americans, Canadians, Australians, Brits, and other native English-speakers made a lot of money teaching private (often illegal) English classes in Korea.
IMF changed all that. English teachers fled Korea in droves. Consider that my Andong salary, which was equivalent to over $2000/month when I accepted the position, had fallen to under $1000/month by the time I was scheduled to come. Obviously, it made me think long and hard about whether I really wanted to go. But as I said earlier, I really wanted the experience, and I was young enough to blow off a year or two of potential savings.
Then there was the screed posted by a former visiting professor at Andong. He claimed to have been badly abused and cheated working at ANU, and he posted this message to the TESL jobs list. Since it was posted shortly before I was to leave for Andong, it concerned me a great deal. I exchanged several e-mails with him, with Andy Finch (the LC deputy director), and the other teachers who were still at ANU. The consensus seemed to be that Randy was an ill-adjusted crank who had hated Korea from the beginning, and was now venting his frustration. After living and working at ANU for over a year, I came to the same conclusion; the vast majority of Randy's accusations simply weren't true. But they did (and do) serve as a warning for anyone coming to Korea to teach; his story may not have been entirely accurate, but many teachers do suffer from similar treatment. And more importantly, those who are unprepared to be flexible and deal with culture shock are likely to perceive themselves as being abused and cheated, and they will have a miserable time.
So in February of 1998, I flew to Seoul, and from there to Yechon. Yechon is a small city, with the closest airport to Andong. One of the Language Center's employees, An Sung-Woo, picked me up, and we made the 45-minute drive to Andong. The night before I had slept in a rather scruffy motel in Seoul, and hadn't seen much of the city. This drive was my first good look at Korea. I was fascinated by the city, the Korean signs which I couldn't yet read, and the fact that I was actually in another country. And of course, I was worried about how I would be received, what the students would be like, and so on.
To my great relief, I found that the staff and students at ANU were very friendly. I particularly appreciated the assistance of An Sung-Woo, who was officially the Language Center's overworked and underpaid network administrator, but in practice was a sort of handyman who did whatever needed doing, including helping teachers move into their apartments.
ANU students were mostly kids from the surrounding area -- "farmboys and country girls" would be a fair description of the majority. They were very nice, and often very shy -- sometimes we were the first foreigners they'd met. I found that when they were treated kindly and politely, they were eager to make friends with us. As some of the teachers who'd been there longer told me, if you want company, Koreans will make sure you're never alone. They will invite you out every night and every weekend once you establish a relationship with them, and it's not uncommon for students to invite their teachers to go out drinking. (This was sometimes difficult for me, as Korean culture puts a heavy emphasis on "social drinking," and I don't like to drink at all.)