All the world is a classroom

When I arrived at Incheon International Airport in South Korea this past summer, my taxi driver asked me in Korean, “So MERS didn’t stop you from coming?” But apart from MERS (which stands for Middle East respiratory syndrome, an infection that was becoming a large problem in South Korea), there were plenty of other worries on my mind. I had already been abroad, having spent the previous summer in Seoul with DukeEngage, but this was the first time that I was truly traveling alone and figuring out my own research project.

As we drove from Incheon, a city along the northwestern coast, eastward into Seoul, we started to pass familiar sights. I recognized Hongdae, the hopping college town the DukeEngage students had resided in last year. I recognized Sinchon, Ewha Women’s University and then eventually some of the downtown sights near where I would be staying this time. Sighing out a deep breath, I knew that somehow this project would work out and this trip would turn into something meaningful. My topic of research, language and identity among LGBTQ Koreans in Seoul, was daunting but full of potential.

This was the summer between my junior and senior years. Timewise, one would think that it was planned just right: 1) deep into my majors already, I would be most equipped to form relevant research questions; 2) I had studied Korean for two years already and lived in Seoul for two months a year earlier, so I wouldn’t be completely lost; and 3) as a rising senior, this project would be perfect to spill over into my senior thesis in linguistics. But as we learn at every stage of our lives, even when we reach milestones, there is always more to be learned, and it’s always possible to feel like we don't have our lives together. You can study academic theories, you can ask your professors advice for on-the-ground research, but like so many other things in life, sometimes it’s hard to learn how to do something until you simply do it.

As I lived in downtown Seoul, north of the Han River, I enjoyed seeing some of the big sights on a daily basis. I lived right by Seoul’s City Hall with its picnic-perfect, expansive lawn; Gwanghwamun Square, ever a site for political activism; as well as Gyeongbokgung, the palace that was used by Korean royals during the Joseon Dynasty. I took in the big city atmosphere and became used to passing by hundreds, if not thousands, of people every day on the streets. I learned to map out my day, find people interested in being interviewed for research and read relevant articles in busy coffee shops. And I mastered the art of eating alone, even though Korean restaurants really are better suited for larger groups.

What did I gain from the research experience? I learned how to befriend strangers in a foreign country and become comfortable asking deep questions pretty much right away. I came to understand that the Korean language I had learned in the classroom could be strikingly different from what I heard this summer, which took on differences associated with generation, gender, region, the context of social media versus verbal conversation and level of education or multilingualism. I learned that the way in which I understand LGBTQ issues or issues of race and nationality or many other things is biased towards one system, and it made me realize all the more the extent to which cultural norms can seem arbitrary when we compare them at face value.

Apart from research itself, I learned how to live my life largely by myself, separated from a familiar sense of community, in a new national and cultural context. I did get the chance to visit with a few Duke professors, some of my friends who were participating in DukeEngage this year and some other Duke friends who either lived in Seoul or were visiting as tourists. Those moments when I got to reconnect with people from communities that I felt deeply rooted in, I felt comfort, joy and a break from the sense of confusion that sometimes accompanied me during the research period. But the times in which I saw friends, they were much more scheduled than most interactions I could have on Duke campus. Seoul is a big city after all, with a population bigger than the New York City metropolitan area, so meeting someone usually requires narrowing down a meeting place to a specific exit of a specific subway station.

I also tried to take trips outside of Seoul when I could in order to expand my view of South Korea and continue the spirit of adventure that can sometimes wane away after weeks of staying put in downtown Seoul. I saw the traditional capital of Jeonju, I visited the city of Buyeo during the annual lotus festival and I got to see the famously tourist-packed Haeundae beach in Busan. Small trips like these were breaths of fresh air and inspired me to keep on trekking through a difficult research project.

I believe Duke does still have some things to work on to improve the research experience for undergraduates. I was able to get generous funding to travel, to lodge and to get daily necessities, but not having a stipend on top of those expenditures, I can imagine many students are excluded from participating. I think that, although I did hear many helpful points of advice from professors, I would love to see more structural support for prospective student researchers and venues for sharing stories and ideas among them. However, I am still grateful to have had this experience, and I can attest to the truth that learning is not, and cannot, be confined to a classroom alone. Sometimes we have to escape the Duke bubble, get out of our comfort zone and see life as it really exists every day in the diverse experiences of people around the globe.