The minuscule vocabulary of my Korean students is taxing at best.  I will concede that things that get lost in translation are often hilarious, such as the middle grades student who asked to be excused because his nose was “rainy”.  However, limited English proficiency necessitates repetitive use of the same words ad nauseum.  So, after a scant four months in the classroom here in Busan, I have already compiled a list of words I never want to hear again, especially if these words come in heavily accented English from the lips of a school aged child.

Here, in no particular order, are the words and phrases I would now strike from the English language if ever given the opportunity.

1)       Finish (frequently pronounced “finish-y”; in this case, see #2 for further explanation):  Students in Asian countries are extremely competitive, and just like their American counterparts, have a burning desire to be done with the task at hand as quickly as their chubby fingers can move a pencil across paper.  Therefore, when a Korean child completes an assignment, he or she will yell, “Teacher, finish!” as loud as humanly possible, thereby alerting me, his or her classmates, God, and anyone walking down the street below that he (or she) has finished the assignment I have given. If I do not respond promptly (i.e., within five seconds or less) to this summons, the student will simply repeat the words, “Teacher, finish, Teacher, finish” over and over, until I find myself standing over his desk, pencil raised in preparation to sever his (or her) little Asian vocal cords.  It doesn’t matter how many times you tell them to chill out because we’re going to go over the assignment in a minute, as each student “finishies”, he or she will join the ungodly chorus until they sound like frogs before a rainstorm.  Eff waterboarding…this is a much more insidious form of torture.  In fact, if the North Koreans ever do cross the 38^th Parallel, their southern counterparts will simply unleash classrooms full of schoolchildren who are done with their work.  Invasion repelled.

2)      Fish-y, Trash-y, etc.:  Bless their hearts (as we would say in North Carolina), these kids struggle with the letter H.  They pronounce it “H-ee” and do the same with all words ending in a consonant-H blend (teach, finish, reach, etc.)  It is the new fingernails on chalkboard at the White-Arnold house.  Hearing students ask me to throw away their trash-y all day long makes me, well, bitch-y.

3)      Time:  The kids say this (“Teacher, time”) when you have told them to put their phones away but they are in the middle of a particularly furious round of Minecraft or Candy Pang.  It’s like their own little way of putting you on pause so they can continue doing whatever they darn well please.  It is spoken without looking up from the smartphone in question, and they just assume you are going to stand there and wait patiently for them to finish whatever they are doing.  The arrogance and disrespect of it galls me every time….makes me want to smack their phone right out of their hands.  Ric, on the other hand, has earned a reputation for actually smacking phones out of hands for this, but it hasn’t stopped them from attempting to pause us every time we tell them to put their phones away and pay attention.

4)      Free time and Game Day:  Like many in my profession, I loathed these words before I ever left the United States.  However, here they are elevated to a new extreme.  In every single one of the six classes I teach, someone asks me EVERY DAY if we can have a game day or free time.  These kids cannot conjugate verbs or spell “dirt”, but they can ask me for permission to do absolutely nothing all day long.

5)      Cunning:  Somewhere along the line, someone’s Korean English dictionary told them that this was the word for cheating, so this is what they say when someone is trying to copy their papers.  My issue with this term is two-fold.  If you don’t want someone cheating off your paper, why do you sit next to them with your work uncovered?  And why were you copying off their paper not five minutes ago? “Cunning” is the battle cry of Korean tattle-tales, and every teacher hates a whiner.  My second issue with the word is purely semantic. It’s a misnomer. If my students were actually in any way “cunning”, they wouldn’t continually be getting caught cheating.

6)      Dictionary:  This word is a trap, and there is no good way to escape it.  When the kids do writing, they usually need their phone dictionaries to locate the appropriate word.   If you don’t let them use them, then they oftentimes can’t figure out what to write or their papers come back littered with Korean words.  However, allowing them to do so also opens the door for a wide array of phone games, text messaging, Kakao Talk, and Internet surfing.  It’s like Pandora’s box with only awkwardly phrased translations left in the bottom.  They know this quandary well, which is why they ask “Dictionary OK?” in meek little Oliver Twist voices with model-student posture and wide, pleading eyes.  Fakers.

7)      Teacher:  I know, I know, it’s my job.  My vocation.  My calling.  Ric and I have dedicated the last decade or so of our lives to educating young people, so how can I want this word stricken from the English language?  Well, it’s totally cultural.  In Korea (and in several other countries), teachers (and bankers and presidents and managers and directors) are called by their titles, not their names.  When students need to differentiate between two teachers, they use your first name plus the word teacher.  So I become “Kelly Teacher” and Ric becomes “Lick Teacher”. (Koreans have a world of trouble with the distinction between R and L.  And G and K.  And B and P.  And most of the other English consonants.  In their defense, we can’t pronounce Korean vowels.) However, most often, since you’re alone in the classroom, you’re just “Teacher”.  And this title prefaces most of the other taboo words on this list, as in “Teacher, Finish!”, “Teacher, Game Day?”, and “Teacher, Time!”.  Furthermore, I am summoned five million times in a forty five minute class period (If anyone says I’m exaggerating, I challenge you to come in and count one day.), and if I don’t respond to them immediately (even if I’m working with another student), they just say the word “Teacher” over and over and over again.   Therefore, I move for the exclusive use of the word “educator” in our presence when we return.  Anything but the dreaded T word.

So, friends, you have twenty months until we return….do us a solid and get those petitions to Webster’s up and running, ok?

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