Being the Old Guy among the Bunch...

"But, see, you are old and you don't understand what we are talking about..." the eager female student inadvertently blurts out as we hold up a random conversation during a short break from class. To be honest, over the last two weeks, I have been getting way too many of these sorts of comments that I should really feel absolutely indifferent to them...but unfortunately, even now, each time I hear them, I cannot help but twitch a little bit on the inside from the slight, painful emotional shock...

"You get older, but the kids stay the same age..." I always respond to people who ask me why I just do not be a full-time teacher in the lucrative private education industry. I am currently in it not primarily for the career, or the money (although that is also important for my next step at grad school), but because I can actually meet people (students and other staff members alike) and be friends with them. It becomes much harder as I age and the generation gap with the students gets bigger and bigger. The social consequence of aging becomes even more pronounced when we are all stuck here in the same building as is the case in Chuncheon.

Exaggerated perhaps, but certainly understandable for someone like me who has ALWAYS been one of the youngest ones in any of the social circles that I belonged to. Born literally at the end of the school year calendar on August 30, I grew up getting used to the facts that everyone to whom I was closest at school (and consequently, as new grads at work) would definitely be older than me by at least few days. And from that few days of "cushioning," certain level of social or emotional comfort was always generated and maintained.

Yes, I literally had the possibility to blame everything on my "youth." From the social gaffs to lack of "street smarts," my genuinely lack of exposure to some parts of the "outside world" were only slightly ridiculed because as the young guy in the group, I was supposed to not know. It made the others I know feel confident about their own abilities as the mature and knowledgeable "older big brother/sister" and more willing to associate with me, just so they can occasionally act condescendingly and flaunt their somehow more comprehensive understanding of the world.

I do not mind so much of the condescension from others, but I do mind having to play that role now as the "big older brother" to my students. As the perceived elitist Yale graduate, I am often considered to have a condescending attitude without doing anything at all. Those who I know (whether they be younger or older) often scoffs at whatever life knowledge I provide because they automatically assume that those knowledge are only suitable for those growing up inside the ivy towers and not for "commoners." My youth only serve to make my explanation less convincing and persuasive.

At least, in this respect, age is on my side now. Being the "experienced one" in life with a massive portfolio of studies, work, and travels, I suddenly went from being the immature young guy to someone whose rants on life receive (well, a sort of) respectful hearing. As a pointed out before, being an educator, especially in the hagwon environment, is really not about teaching whatever book knowledge but behaving as a sort of "role model" for the students to emulate.

Sure, as the "old guy," I am, sadly, no longer part of the same generation as the students I teach (unlike when I was only a year or two older than my students during my first teaching stint at Korea in 2008) and it is really getting much harder for me to connect with any of them outside the academic environment. But simultaneously, I know that, despite the shallow relations now as the teacher, there is the possibility of a longer, deeper relationship with myself considered more of a "mentor" who can more authoritatively answer all their questions as they grow up and walk down the same path as I did.

And lastly, just because I am getting older physically, does not mean I am growing just as old mentally. As I was drinking and awkwardly dancing away to the tunes of K-pop girl bands in an end-of-the-week karaoke session with the coworkers, I realized a part of me still is, and perhaps always will be, a big kid. That immature, yet entertaining (in a laughably stupid way) part of me must be maintained and occasionally used to balance out and neutralize the perceived intellectual condescension as an older Yale graduate....