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The Korean Community (transcript)

By David Barasoain

In order to see how a Korean family keeps their culture alive, many times all that’s needed is a visit their home. On the walls home of the Kang family hang wooden Korean masks. There’s some artwork on a shelf near the TV. And for dinner the family sits on the floor at a knee-high table, filled with steaming bowls of meat and vegetables. The Kangs, with their teenage kids Christina and Jason, moved here to Atlanta about five years ago.

The mother of the family is Hye-Sun; she doesn’t speak much English. But using her daughter as a translator she says that in Korea she was a teacher. The family came to America to give their kids a better chance at advanced education. But moving to Atlanta was still scary.

HYE SUN: For me the biggest concerns, some fears I had, was just giving up everything I had and earned in Korea. All the education. And I was just wondering if I could do the same thing if I came here.

Many Koreans come United States with a focus on education for themselves or their family, and they don’t often loose sight of it. But because of this goal, their artistic traditions can be forgotten. But Korean community leaders are trying to address this by setting up Korean-American schools.

That’s the case in this classroom at the SeJong Korean American school of Georgia, one of several Korean American schools in Atlanta. And it’s also here where Hye-Sun has found and outlet, teaching 1st and 2nd graders.

Her fears at starting over in America seem a bit eased here. Today she’s working these kids on Korean vowel and consonant sounds, using a simple game of bingo, but what is taught here in the school is not just limited to grammar and reading, there is also a small fusion orchestra, a fan dance class and even a chance to learn a Korean paper art, similar to origami, called chyng he chop ki.

Its hard not to notice another group of teenagers practicing traditional Korean music, in the form of percussion known as, Sa Mul No Ri. Here a group of seven teenagers sit on the floor, playing what look like symbols, gongs and drums. Sa Mul No Ri is a combination of two words “Sa Mul” meaning four things — for the four instruments - and “No Ri”, meaning to play. Thirteen year old, Brian plays one of those instruments, the ggenggari.

BRIAN: I know a bunch of American people that love to play the trumpet and stuff and I think that it should be the same for us, playing the Ggoenggari and the Jing, the Buk, and the Junggu.

For these kids, attending a school like this might, not, be, their first choice. The classes take place on the weekend, which take them away from other pursuits. Twelve year old Astrid admits that she came to the class because of her parents.

ASTRID: They said I could do the fan dancing or this, so I chose this.

DAVID: Because we were forced to, but when we were forced to we enjoyed it because I thought it was going to be boring, but then I found it was challenging and really fun.

Like the 1st and 2nd graders down the hall playing bingo, all the kids in this class, were born in the US. They may have learned Korean culture from their parents, but there is a good chance that their understanding of Korean art is because of this school.

There are five parts to the student creed for the 2-thousand year old Korean Martial art known as Tae Kwon Do.

• I shall observe the tenants of Tae Kwon Do.
• I shall respect instructors and seniors.
• I shall never misuse Tae Kwon Do.
• I will be a champion of freedom and justice.
• I shall help build a more peaceful world.

The members of Seo’s Martial Arts class — north of Atlanta — are among the few in the state being taught a more traditional form of the Korea’s well known martial art, Tae Kwon Do. Their instructor is Seo, Ju Hyon. He says these days fewer students bother to trace the roots of Tae Kwon Do.

SEO: People only think about competition or trophy or metal. I mean I’m happy that Tae Kwon Do is an Olympic sport, but at the same time we’re loosing the martial art, the name of Tae Kwon Do.

Seo, who moved to the states as a boy, was actually taught this form of martial art from his father. He now passes it on to students from all nationalities. His youngest student is three and his oldest is seventy. It could be argued the Tae Kwon Do is not really an art form, but the clubs manager, Jonathan Cho is not as quick to agree.

CHO: As far as forms, it has body movement, there is a rhythm there’s a tempo that they have to go to. There are certain moves like the spins and the twirls. And for the spinning, there are people who are out there that can do what we call a spin hook kick. It’s a hard kick to do, but when you see it done, it’s very graceful.

It’s been over a month since we first met up with the Sa Mul No Ri percussion group. They’re now on stage in full costume. Black shirts with multi colored red, blue and gold sashes. They’re just finishing the performance of the song they’ve been working on all year, ‘The Farmer’s Rhythm’.

The performance went well and the kids are relieved and excited. Not just because its over, but because this concert also signals the end of the school year.

Attending the performance is a man named Charlie Yi. As it turns out, he was the first principal at this Korean-American School. When asked if Korean arts and culture will take root with these children, he thinks for a moment, and is cautiously optimistic.

YI: Well, I hope so. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but that is my dream and I hope they can do that. They can carry on. If they enjoy it themselves I think they may be able to carry [it] on [to] later generation.

© Copyright 2005 WABE