Sangmin: Fourth Meeting

Language is like a video game...kind of. Well, think about it. Most video games allow you to hold some type of inventory of tools you can use, whether they be keys to open doors, or weapons to fight with, or healing elements.

Like the video game inventory, language gives us an inventory of words that we can use as tools. You get these tools, and you choose what you want to do with them. You use your tools to build things, obtain things, fight for things, etc. (We could get into the other ways language acts as a tool, but that's a whole other blog post).

And like a video game, language has different levels. On the first level, you have basic tools. Basic tools achieve their purpose in basic conversation--saying hello, getting to know someone, asking where the bathroom is, etc.

As you get into the higher levels, you earn more tools (that is, better vocabulary). Now you've got the big guns and the small-but-deadly stealth weapons. You've got the Lit and Civ quiz words like "acrophobe" and "plonking" and "sot" in your utility belt. These tools can be used in more substantial, more colorful, and more complex conversation.

Now what does all this have to do with my conversation partner? I said all that because Sangmin is crossing over into that next level of the language game.

When I met Sangmin for the fourth time, we caught each other in the library and decided to sit and chat for a while. We began with the usual “how are you?”. We talked about the things we did over fall break. While I was pouring over criminal justice, he was kayaking on a fall break retreat. He said he had never kayaked before, but he picked up rowing easily. Overall, our fall breaks could be summed up with one word: “Good.”

The usual stuff. Level one. Basic tools.

Then I asked him what he was doing in the library. He told me he was touring the library with his IEP group to learn about the library’s different resources. They are to use research to back up their claims during their debates.

Yes, debates! They were going to debate with one another, in English, on taboo topics. Sangmin’s topic is gay marriage.

I told Sangmin it must be difficult to debate in a language that isn’t your first language. I remembered my experience when taking Writing in Spanish, a 3000-level Spanish course in which we had to write essays on difficult topics such as metalinguistics and euthanasia. I can’t even explain those topics in English—how much more Spanish! Sangmin has it harder, though. He has to speak his ideas and think quickly, rather than spend hours writing and proofreading carefully.

I’m proud of Sangmin for stepping out onto the next level of language. He’s gaining more tools and getting better at the game. I’ll be sure to ask how his debate went at our next meeting.

Sangmin: Third Meeting

“I have some Korean jokes,” Sangmin said at our third meeting.

“Okay, let’s hear ‘em!” I replied.

At our previous meeting, I had asked Sangmin what Korean jokes he knew. He couldn’t think of any right off the bat, but he told me he would have some for our next meeting. I was excited to hear them but was curious as to how well I would understand them.

The first joke Sangmin told me was about a guy who was about to go on his first blind date. The guy had all kinds of plans for the date and was excited to meet the girl for the first time. Having all his plans set, he went off to meet the girl.

Then, he saw her, and suddenly felt surprised.

He asked her, “What do you want to do for the date?”

She replied, “Why are you asking me? I thought you had plans!”

He said, “Well, I wasn’t planning on your appearance.”

Funny? Maybe a little. I certainly laughed at the cognitive shift, considering the guy was planning the date only to be disappointed by how the girl looked. The guy probably wasn’t making the smoothest move by saying what he said, but nonetheless, it was funny.

The second Korean joke that Sangmin told me evoked a little less laughter. He looked up the joke on his phone to remind himself of how it went. The joke was originally in Korean, so he had to translate the joke in English for me.

The joke was about a certain character (I couldn’t remember the exact name) who was King of the Land and wanted to become King of the Sea. In order to fight for kingship over the sea, the King of the Land went under the sea and encountered a giant creature.

The creature said, “I will fight you if you take off your backpack and follow me!”

The King of the Land responded, “I will follow you, if you take off your scarf.”

Ba-dum tss. Get it? No? I didn’t quite understand the joke either.

“Okay, it’s not funny,” Sangmin said, laughing.

He then explained to me that in Korean culture, middle and high school kids would tell each other to “take off [something] and follow me” before going out to fight. I then asked if Korean students got into a lot of fights in middle and high school. Sangmin told me that Korean kids got into a lot of fights in the past, but now, they have gotten “smarter.”

“Now, they sue!” he said.

At this thought, I laughed. Perhaps it is smarter to sue than to get into a physical fight.

Talking with Sangmin today helped me realize how culture plays an integral part in humor. Because I was not familiar with Korean customs or the Korean language, I did not laugh as readily. Our conversation also made me think of our “Humor Around the World Projects” and how different countries have their own specific types of humor.

Despite our different forms of humor, there is one thing that connects them all—humor. Yes, I repeated the word, and it sounds silly. But here’s the deal—all cultures love to laugh. It doesn’t matter if they laugh at culture, language, satire, situational humor, or slapstick humor. Everyone loves to laugh in one way or another. We all create our own humor. We all need humor.

Stay tuned for Meeting #4.

Adventurous

A year ago, around this time, I was going through a crisis. I wanted to change my major, and anyone who’s ever gone through a change in major knows how stressful that can be. From the agonizing confusion, to the frequent meetings with advisors, to the re-working of your graduation plan, to the fateful decision day—changing a major is a big deal because, essentially, you are changing your life. I entered TCU as a political science major hoping I could one day become a lawyer. Well, the more hours I spent in my political science classes, the more I realized I didn’t really want to be a lawyer. I just wasn’t wired for that job.

Then, after a convoluting turn of events, I found myself reluctantly changing my major to journalism. And now, the more hours I spend in my journalism classes, the more I realize I really, really, really want to be a journalist. This is the job I was wired for.

This first semester of my junior year is by far my busiest academic semester as I juggle seventeen hours, TCU 360, and other activities outside of school. I have to admit, however, that this semester has been the most fun so far.

Being a journalism major has given me the opportunity to explore. (Well, I’m forced to explore because I’ll get an F if I don’t!). It’s an interesting feeling to walk into an empty Daniel-Meyer Coliseum on game-less days and have the people in charge of Go Purple Friday know who you are, then walk from Daniel-Meyer Coliseum all the way to the Bass Building on a one-way trip. Needless to say, I didn’t look cute that day.

Being a reporter means I have to step out of the shell I never thought I had. I have to initiate conversations. I have to stick cameras in people’s faces. I have to bug people. Never before in my life has the phrase “you gotta do what you gotta do” rung so true.

 I also realized my overinflated confidence needs even more of a boost. In Radio/TV Newswriting class, we are practicing anchoring and speaking in front of a camera. After watching myself numerous times and letting others critique my performances, I’m learning that a reporter must exhibit utmost confidence and control in telling the news. I can’t be “happy, cheery Sam” all the time. It’s time for me to turn up the professionalism.

All in all, being a journalism major is teaching me to be adventurous. And I’m just doing simple stories like College Colors Day or the new bubble tea shop opening in the Grand Marc…how much more “hard news” stories that involve crime or government scandals? Journalists have to be risk-takers. They step out into the field and explore without shame. They risk the possibility of getting hurt, exposing a controversial secret, or breaking a relationship. The media has so much power to shape the worldview of an individual, and I’m on my way to being a part of it.

But before I can become a full-fledged journalist, I need to learn to let go of my fears and reservations. Every day is a brand new test of that. I believe that when the time is ready, I’ll be ready; so I will try my very best every day until my news goes from TCU to your TV screen.

Sangmin: Second Meeting

As I continue on my collegiate journey, I am continuously learning the art of conversation, “friend-making,” and connecting with others. It’s been a constant learning process. And, no, I don’t have “friend-making” down to a science; but I can say that there are elements that make connecting with others much easier. As a matter of fact, there are two elements that may seem trivial but, when used in a social context, do much to soften barriers and build friendships. These two elements are pop culture and humor.

I experienced the power of both elements when I met with Sangmin this week. Conversation began more slowly this time around. I asked how his English class was going, what he was learning, what he has been enjoying in America, etc. Honestly, I was beginning to get tired of asking questions and interviewing him as if he were a subject. I knew he was more than that.

Then, somewhere in the conversation, the subject of television came up. He told me that one of his favorite American shows was “Dexter.” I asked if American TV was helping him learn English, to which he responded with a chuckle, “Uh, actually, I watch with subtitles.” I joked with him that using subtitles was cheating, and we shared a laugh.

It turned out that we had both watched the premiere of “Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” on ABC two weeks ago. He told me he was disappointed not to see any of the major superheroes on the show, like Iron Man, his favorite Avenger. I told him my favorite Avenger was Thor. Suddenly, the conversation took a turn. We continued our discourse about superheroes, even pointing out interesting novelties we have seen such as the Iron Man MacBook skin and Avengers-inspired lights. Finally, the conversation was no longer an “interview.” We found something we can connect with.

The second element that brought about connection was humor. After telling Sangmin that we were studying humor in Lit and Civ class, we went on telling jokes. I told him a joke my dad, a preacher, had told a Korean congregation when he was invited to speak to them. The condensed version goes a bit like this: a black man and a white man were arguing about what race God is. The black man insisted that God was black, while the white man insisted that God was white. When they entered Heaven, the gates swung open; and God greeted, “Annyeonghaseyo!” Sangmin laughed, because he knew that “annyeonghaseyo” meant “hello” or “how are you” in Korean. Continuing along the same lines, Sangmin told me this joke: a little girl was wondering about the origin of humanity. When she asked her mother where people came from, her mother told her that God created people. When she asked her father where people came from, her father told her that people evolved from monkeys. Confused, the daughter asked her mother, “Why did dad say people came from monkeys?” Her mother replied, “Well, that was his side of the family.”

Our conversation lasted for only thirty minutes. Sangmin and I really didn’t talk about anything substantial at our second meeting, but we did connect. By the end of the conversation, we grew more comfortable with one another; and these connective elements of pop culture and humor also served as the key to opening the door called “friendship.”