I bet you are!

I will see this movie come hell or high water and try and see if you are portrayed in it!

I will look for the mischievous one who likes to play outside, the one with a sparkle in her eyes. I will imagine how it would be to be 8 instead of 2 while at the orphanage, and wonder about the bonds that we all made there during our stay.

Here’s the movie being released, made by a fellow orphanage mate of my Seoul sister, Myung Sook:

From Joong Ang Daily

An orphan struggles to overcome abandonment

October 09, 2009

Jin-hee’s morning begins on a bicycle, her arms wrapped around her father’s waist as he navigates the streets. She enjoys the ride and the warmth of his back as she presses into him.

It’s a big day. Her father bought her new clothes, which she is now wearing. He also bought her a large cake, though it’s not her birthday. She is so happy that, during lunch at a restaurant, she sings a little song for her father.

The day, however, takes an abrupt turn. Jin-hee’s father drops her off at an orphanage, where she’s left with a dozen children she has never met. It’s the beginning of a brand new life for her, one she tries desperately to escape until she realizes that there is nowhere for her to go and that her father is not coming back.

She quickly learns that life at the orphanage is full of separation and sadness, as other children are adopted and leave her life, one by one. Her best friend Sook-hee (Park Do-yeon) lands in the arms of an American family and is whisked to a land where she apparently can eat cake every day. Although Jin-hee eventually gives up on the idea of going back home, she can’t shake the memory of that bike ride and the warmth of her father’s back.

The French-Korean film “A Brand New Life,” which will be screened at PIFF under the World Cinema category, narrates a heartbreaking story about overcoming the sorrow of separation and accepting fate. The film beautifully illustrates the process that Jin-hee (Kim Sae-ron) goes through as she slowly realizes her fate and then learns to embrace life as an adoptee. Every moment is tear-jerking, but at the same time it gives you hope that one can find a new path.

The film is based on the true story of Korean-French director Ounie Lecomte, who was born in Seoul, Korea, in 1966 and was adopted by a French family when she was 9. She spent one year at the Saint Paul orphanage, run by Catholic nuns, in Seoul. It is the first French-Korean joint production and is Lecomte’s debut film. It was co-produced by renowned director Lee Chang-dong and was filmed near Seoul. It was presented for the first time at the Cannes International Film Festival in May.

Lecomte said in an interview at the Cannes festival that she tried to portray the emotions of a little girl facing extraordinary circumstances – abandonment and adoption – rather than simply replicate her childhood. “The year at the orphanage is the time and place of an intervening period between two lives: a life in which she didn’t have to learn how to let go and then a life in which she will learn how to desire,” Lecomte said.

The film will be shown at 7:30 p.m. on Oct. 9 and at 11 a.m. on Oct. 11 at Lotte Cinema at the Centum City complex in Busan. It will also be released nationwide on Oct. 29.

A Brand New Life

Drama / Korean

92 min.

By Limb Jae-un [jbiz91@joongang.co.kr]

Mr. Koorng, (?) the doorman, moves the potted plants from the sidewalk and inside for the evening. He mops the marble lobby of the officetel and picks up cigarette butts from around the entry and GS25 with his garden gloves on. Mr. K. was once an English professor, and now retired sort-of, is a doorman at Hanyang Worldbil officetel apartments. (some of my favorite people in the world are doormen. Like Massalu, the Ethiopian restaurant owner in Seattle, who was also the doorman at my 2nd architecture firm and from whom I faithfully would patronize for the most garlic-laden tomato fit-fit in the planet) All the foreigners love him, (as opposed to the other doorman – which actually I love too, especially after I bought two baby pillows and he started cooing and saying something in Korean about babies and smiling) and he is like the officetel good-will ambassador.

Mr. K. always says hello to me and tries to strike up conversations, but it’s always awkward. Tonight must have been more conducive to conversation because he stopped and chatted for a good long time. He told me all about the 14 foreigners who live in the high-rise, and how one of them was from Austria and not an English teacher. He also told me about an adoptee who lived here the year before, and whose white adoptive mother came to visit her three times, and how she went home. He said he knew how hard it was for Korean adoptees because we couldn’t speak our own language but everyone saw us as Korean. I agreed and told him how it was weird to see the white foreigners be treated in a special way, while we were treated like Koreans-yet-not-Koreans. We had a good long talk about the Korean economy and he proudly told me about all the things Korea does well, and rightly so. And then he told me I should search for my family and how I should contact the t.v. stations, even though he saw SBS following me around. I told him about TRACK and how we recognized that in today’s economy there was no reason to send children away and how difficult it was because of Confuscian ideals. I told him how we were working to convince Koreans that ALL children should be valued. He nodded, looked pained, and had nothing to say. We talked about learning Korean and he offered that every foreigner just needed a Korean guide to make it relevant. I talked about waiting for a Korean guide, and about how I was going to save for key money so I could go to Seoul and be free. He thought that was a very good idea.

**************

The weather is getting quite nipply. The last two weeks were a very bizarre pendulum of extremes. Still balmy hot by mid-day, yet med-weight jacket cold at night.

But the tide has turned, and it is now long-sleeved weather all day. I need to purchase sweaters and wonder in amazement how I survived March and April of last year, since I had nothing of that weight to keep me warm in the sometimes sub-zero climate.

So I’m excited to purchase some of the amazing structural and design fashion-forward sweaters in Seoul, but I also need to save for key money…I just need to figure out how the heck I did it last winter with what I have, or figure out how little I can purchase and how versatile I can be with a few layered pieces.

**************

I’ve decided that Koreans are correct that Makkoli puts you to sleep, AND that the thinner it is, the better. So now I barely shake it, and I drink 3 of the 4 dixie-up size cups and leave the thick dregs for the drain.

Perhaps the continuous turn-over at the GS25 has ceased, because now they see me and understand when I say, “cup.” Which is really funny, because I haven’t bought a bottle of mokkoli in about two weeks.

Had a little dong dong ju with my Migook friends in Gyeong Ju, and wasn’t crazy about it. It’s some other kind of rice wine, but more effervescent AND it tasted like bread mold to me, so I couldn’t drink it. However, it is very popular with others.

Mr. K. told me about makkoli being drunk by the peasant farmers during their work break, and how it made them more productive.

**************
It’s midnight after a four hour makkoli-induced nap. Lightly hungry yet not wanting to walk around in the cold to go through the frustration of trying to find something to eat for the limited choices a single person has, I settled on an instant nurungi, which is the rice dessert made from the toasted rice stuck to the bottom of the rice crock.

I’ve come a long way from a year ago, where I could barely tolerate eating rice at all. It happened when I was sick last spring and post fever and not eating for three days, having nothing in much in the apartment to eat but rice. I made a pot of it and suddenly it was the most comforting, satisfying food in the planet. Surprisingly, there are a few dishes which are Korean which have almost zero spice to it and is quite bland. Porridge. Pork stew. Koreans seem to appreciate this as occasional contrast to their diet.

**************
Today Mr. Lee was back to his old worthless self again. The perpetual conundrum of the Korean classroom is the varying level of student ability. The top students actually listen and are engaged and interested in your lessons. The middle students try and then you lose them half the time. The bottom level students don’t even bother. (I’ve seen students not even bother to take exams, that’s how uninvolved in school they are – they just sleep through them on purpose) But in my class, I must make them try. During my powerpoint lecture, sometimes I catch Mr. Lee sounding out words or being fascinated by the lecture. But when activity time rolls around, and their heads are on their desks, and I need his assistance to get the kids participating, where is Mr. Lee? Looking out the window. Or watching me as I wake students up or try and explain the instructions in a new way. So it always takes twice as long as it should.

Today it really pissed me off. The uninterested were unresponsive as the dead and I clearly needed help, but Mr. Lee just stood in his spot in the corner like a catatonic person. I swear most of the rage I feel is Mr. Lee’s fault. I have such great classes with the female co-teacher, who is always ready and assisting.

Mr. Lee is my main reason for hating it here. I have to leave Mr. Lee behind.

**************
My female co-teacher wanted to introduce healthy competition and offered candy as a contest prize halfway through last week. I let her do this but expressed my distaste for such things. I must say, I didn’t think the results were any better. And, it was sad for me to hear the disappointment in the other groups who didn’t win but who thought their work was equally good. Learning or doing a good job really should be its own reward. Competition is healthy if there’s a specific goal and discreet measurable progress that can be charted. But for something subjective? I don’t like it at all, and think it’s counter-productive.

Class 1-1, the infamous class, is well on its way to being orderly. However, dictation (I have to admit) has got to be a drag. They were dropping like flies today but it was okay with me, because most of them got the majority of the message prior to fading away. For the five who made it through to the bitter end, I took them to the snack shop and bought them any treat they wanted. Not one to bribe my students, I think everyone was shocked at this show of appreciation.

Surprisingly, most of the boys bought microwave chicken sandwiches instead of sweets. Maybe school lunch was especially awful today.

**************

Ah, the nurungi’s ready. yummmmm!

Probably the highlight of my visit to Busan (since I wasn’t allowed into the theater to see Resilience because I was 2 minutes late – but that’s another story) was meeting Kyong-Wha.  (Her story in the New York Times follows below)

I consider myself a lucky girl to not only have heroines, but to meet them and be able to get to know them personally.

Heroine #1 is Jane Jeong Trenka, who is the most unselfish person I’ve ever met.  We’re very similar, in that we see a need and follow up on it.  But she’s younger and thinks bigger than I do, and she exhausts all of her seemingly (but not) boundless energy creating a better world for women.  Currently she and a team of advisors have DRAFTED A NEW LAW to be proposed to the Korean National Assembly.  How’s THAT for citizen action???  Historic.  Landmark.

Heroine #2 is Kyung-Wha.  Here’s another woman who sees a need and, instead of sucking it up stoically by herself, she not only puts herself out there, but creates a foundation for single mothers BY single mothers – the first of its kind in Korea – called Mama Mia.

Reading the article, you will be both energized and impressed by this fearless, courageous woman and encouraged by the writing and the exposure of this issue in the New York Times.  But Korea, it seems, does not see Kyung-Wha’s actions or Sang-Hun’s New York Times article in such favorable light.  In fact, fall-out and negative comments by netizens of Korea’s insular cyberworld has been rather severe.  They ask things like, “How can you ask for the government to help you when YOU messed up?”  They refuse to recognize any of the extra hardships and descrimination these women face for TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR ACTIONS. They do not appreciate Sang-Hun airing Korea’s dirty laundry out in public, never once considering that it was they who dirtied the laundry to begin with.  They see nothing wrong with the government promoting adoption and discouraging women to raise their own children, as most Koreans still think of America as the land of milk and honey:  even though there are more jobs here and the standard of living is REALLY HIGH.

I learned, in addition to the NYT article, that the measly 50,000 won (half of the $85 the government sends to subsidize those who already have the means to adopt) is taken away once an unwed mother gets a job:  which of course she must do, because how can you live on $42.50 a month?  There is a child support system here, but it is not enforced, so dead-beat dad’s merely have to move so their address no longer matches the database.  There is no blame directed at the men for their part in procreation.

Kyung Wha’s little boy is an absolute delight.  Jane chases him and they play mock battle like the Pororo characters from Korean children’s tv cartoons.  His peels of laughter amuse everyone but his mom, who knows he will be extra hard to settle down.  He hits his head under a table and cries and she rocks him in her arms, kissing his head.  I see this and remember how much I loved these moments of just being there for my little ones, comforting them.  Later, he’s passed out across two restaurant chairs, oblivious to all and looking like an angel, and I remember Jane saying earlier under her breath something like, “and to think he could have been sent away.”

So I’ll post the first half of the NYT article here, and let you finish the rest there…

Mok Kyong-wha, with her son, said that she broke up with her boyfriend while she was pregnant and refused when he asked her to have an abortion

just hit the right arrow at the bottom for a slide show.

if you hit the big arrow, it will play like a video and has an annoying laugh track

I was telling Clara how I could never keep a journal because I would self-edit to a paralyzing degree, and that I appreciated blogging because once it was sent, it was a commitment.  I also told Jane how sometimes embarrassing my blog was, with its sometimes wrong early analysis and assumptions, but that I wanted to keep it as a document of what it’s like to transplant oneself into a totally alien culture, and that even the flaws had value for others who might travel the same path.

I wanted to maximize my time and resources and be able to share as much as I could with my friends and family as an on-the-spot reporter, so they could experience WITH me:  I never imagined I would get other readership.  This process, in the end, became more like that journal I never wanted to write.

When Sara was little and we would sometimes have minor words, she would run off to her journal and scribble furiously, and I would yell at her something like, “Don’t think I don’t KNOW what you’re writing about me!”  Lenn asked me if I’d ever read her journal and I told her no, because I always knew that in the heat of the moment the passion of her writing would not include all the love and affection we had for each other.  It’s just not human nature to write about what we’re secure about, or about what makes us content, or to note all that keeps us complete and balanced.  No.  We write about what sticks out in our minds as exceptional:  we write about the extreme highs and the extreme lows.  I, too, have written only about what is exceptional.  And, it’s been an incredibly exceptional experience moving to Korea and, in particular, my experience may be more exceptional than most.

Chapter 1 included:

• Culture shock, culture shock, and more culture shock
  • Typical west meets east culture shock
  • Learning to teach in an over-crowded classrooms with unruly boys
  • Exacerbated by self-employed free spirit meets Neo-Confuscianism
  • Looking Asian / feeling white / being treated Korean
  • Failing Korean lessons
• Legal struggles which almost resulted in litigation
• Typical emotionally draining returning adoptee search process
• Atypically being featured in a documentary and dealing with press coverage
• Being adored to an unhealthy degree by a co-worker
• Becoming a core member of an activist group to improve Korean society for the next generation of children

So upon reflection, instead of closing shop at the virulent thoughtless comments of someone with nothing better to do than sabotage the work of others, I’ve decided it would be appropriate to institute a second chapter to this blog, since that’s really where I’m at.  Since it appears I have readers who haven’t met me in person, who haven’t experienced my demeanor or witnessed my skills and foibles, and who can’t discern my subtle and darkly dry sense of humor and who can’t see the unwavering optimism of my actions vs. the sardonic bite of my written words, then I will endeavor to work harder at a more balanced voice.

It took me over a half a year, but I now feel capable, even though I’m still learning new things and maneuvering through more cultural surprises:

• I can now manage to engage 75% of my classrooms of forty+ high school students in a way that appeals to their intellect yet does not pamper them.  They appreciate me – NOT because I am their entertainer, but because I care about their futures, and they know that.  When I first got here, I am sure I sounded like a jerk (because I was a jerk) talking about what we westerners do.  But now when I let my students see through my western lens, I make it clear that it is not a criticism of them.  I tell them this is what WE Asians look like, this is how WE appear,  and how we need to recognize what needs to be fixed so we can improve, so WE can compete.  So WE can survive.  So our children can have a future.  They’re worried about the future.  They get this.  They appreciate this.  I’m not afraid to talk about my personal life and what I’ve seen and experienced.  It’s honest.  It’s different.  I think they like it.
• The remaining 25% are learning about mutual consideration and respect in a highly structured and consistent manner, and are very close to joining the other 75% in more advanced lessons.  They don’t like this at all.  But it’s good for them.  In the end, I think they will have learned something priceless.
• I really love the kids a lot and it is sad I only get to see them once a week. I’m also sad that our time is too brief and there are too many of them to learn all their names.  I wish I had a home room and could have a real relationship with one class.  I long for a smaller class size and wonder if a hagwon situation would be more rewarding.  Yet I value the lesson planning I get to do and the impact I can make.
• The act-ups are actually the most awkward kids just trying to find some way to be appreciated.  It won’t be long before they realize they need to find more appropriate methods for attention. Just goes with the age group and territory.  But it’s painful to watch (again) and annoying to be used.
• My favorite classes are the small group discussion classes.  I love to interview my adult students in depth and help them express themselves.  They’ve all come a long long way in confidence and ability because it’s such a safe environment and because I raise the bar quite high.
• I love the challenge of teaching in a high school, and THE ONLY reason I am leaving is because my particular school will not provide adequate support.  If one child out of 600 is insubordinate and I tell him disciplinary action will be taken, and then the school takes no action, then that tells 599 kids that there are no rules and they can run all over the teachers.  This is not just my problem, and this is why the majority of teachers in my school are angry much of the time.   They are angry with the administration because this school does not support its teachers.  Perhaps this is the difference between a government underwritten private school and a purely public school.
• In all my past rants about the frustration of teaching in Korea, the frustration is not with the students, but with those teachers – both Korean and foreign hagwon – who provide poor lessons and purchase the student’s favor or merely babysit so their jobs will be easier.  They make all the good teacher’s jobs more difficult.  Fortunately, I have yet to meet the hagwon teachers, though I have to deal with the entitlement the children exhibit from being spoiled by them.  They also seem to be the oldest generation of Korean teachers.  Unfortunately, one of them is my male co-teacher.
• Individual Koreans are very endearing and they, too, struggle with all the same questions about society that I ask as a newcomer.  I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to hear their opinions and learn so much about this culture so soon.  It is sad to hear resignation in their voices and I try to give them hope and new alternatives.  It’s easy to do coming from Seattle, which is all about innovation.
• I can’t learn a second language, so I have nothing but admiration for those that can.
• I do have problems with group mentality as most foreigners here probably do, as I equate my individuality with my civil liberties.
• I love the food to an unhealthy degree
• I love how the metropolis is punctured by land masses that insist on respect.
• I think the culture is fascinating, the society severely handicapped by its class structure, and I have the greatest sympathy for the daunting learning curve necessitated by globalization for Korea’s survival.
• Like my other returning adoptee activist friends, I vacillate between longing for the comfort of all I’ve known in the west and sustaining myself through the discomfort of relocation so that I may, in some small way, help Korea to both keep its culture yet also create a society that values EACH and EVERY ONE of its sons and daughters.

Soooo.  I’m NOT going to shut down the blog, but I AM going to be more aware that the blog is no longer my own little pillow scream, but has a public audience and I will attempt to show what’s unspoken and second nature and centering, though in reality, that would require a laugh and a smile, which words don’t draw very well.