Fikos and Gyomushils

Fikas and Gyomushils

by Luke Zeller

Before I began teaching for the School District of Philadelphia, I taught in Sweden and South Korea over the course of a year and a half. Anyone who has lived abroad would attest to how the experience can sharpen an awareness of your home culture. When you are away from home, you witness how daily routines you have taken for granted can simply be done differently. By looking back at America from an outsider’s perspective, you are able to “Make the familiar strange.” You are able to see your cultural assumptions more clearly.

Teachers make cultural assumptions every day, and we participate in forming the future of our country through these cultural assumptions. We have assumed ways for how we should teach, relate to our colleagues, understand our work, and reflect on the job we have done. These relationships and academic processes become ingrained in our consciousness to form an assumed concept of school in America. The assumptions of this American concept were difficult for me to perceive until I taught abroad. Therefore, through my experiences in Sweden and South Korea, I have broadened and adapted my concept of school.

Teachers make cultural assumptions every day,

and we participate in forming the future of our

country through these cultural assumptions.

The first time I sat down to lesson plan with my mentor teacher in Sweden, I was anxious about my inaugural teaching experience in a foreign country. I wanted to plan everything as clearly as possible and was willing to work well into the morning. We were scheduled to meet from 8:00-9:00am. We met promptly at 8:00 and began lesson planning. For an hour, we had a productive meeting. At 9:05, I was eager to continue, but I noticed that my mentor teacher began to twitch and look at me funny. I sensed something was amiss.

“Is everything ok?” I asked.

“Well, yes, but, you see, it’s Friday, and it’s 9 o’clock.” she responded.

“Ok, and what happens now?”

“Fika! It’s time for fika! Come with me.”

We walked through the school building and entered a beautiful foyer with strong wooden tables and comfortable chairs. There were about forty adults consisting of teachers and administrators sitting around the room. My mentor teacher walked me through the room and waved to her friends who were already enjoying themselves. (We were five minutes late.) She showed me to the coffee, which was always extremely strong. I have never seen anyone put so many scoops of coffee roast for one batch of coffee. You could also have a pastry or piece of fruit for the equivalent of fifty cents.

Teacher's lounge and fika meeting space in Sweden

I helped myself to a small amount of coffee and a delicious looking danish. My mentor teacher patiently guided me through the aisle for these snacks and then eagerly pulled me along to join her friends. Her friends were teachers from the school enjoying their fika. Fika confused me because it was such a foreign cultural process. Why are people taking a break from work during the most productive hours of the day? How do these colleagues at the same school know each other? Why are they smiling at work?

Fika could be considered a coffee break, but it is much more than a coffee break. It is a social gathering that is culturally embedded into Swedish society. Everyone fikas. Everyone gets to know the people they work with. Everyone takes time out of their day to relax and be social. Sometimes, the fika discussions are even about the students and subjects they teach.

Classroom experiences and practices are casually shared; teachers receive support or a much needed temporary escape, and it happens every day.

Sweden exposed me to professional development and community building that I would have never imagined as an American. The experience was good for my heart because I took time each day to step back from my daily pressures to breathe.

After Sweden, I spent a year teaching in a rural public school in South Korea. Rice fields and mountains surrounded my beautifully scenic school. During my stay, I spent a lot of time in a gyomushil. “Gyomushil” translates in English to “Teacher’s room.” In this teacher’s room, each teacher has a desk with a computer, and all the teachers who share the room teach the same group of students.

In each gyomushil I visited or resided in, the teachers always made attempts to get to know each other. Not every gyomushil was a perfect social mesh, but at least teachers knew each other and shared mutual respect. It was a regular occasion for someone to bring in a small gift or a snack to share with the teachers in their gyomushil. It could be a watermelon, a batch of persimmons, or some other fruit that was in season. It could be small Vitamin-C drinks or Aloe Juices that were always equally distributed. I once made a contribution by making peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches that my co-teachers happily ate. I insisted on each person having a small cup of milk to complete the experience.

My personal desk and workspace in Korea

In Korea and Sweden, there was time and space for teachers to connect naturally. Community building was embedded into their daily routines. When does this happen in America? How often do we take time to sit down, have a cup of coffee or tea, and talk with each other? How often do we share some fruit and sit in a shared space?

As teachers in American schools, it often feels like we are isolated on our own classroom islands trying to survive from day to day. We work hard on our islands by preparing lessons, grading papers, handling discipline, and calling homes. Meanwhile, a community among teaching colleagues seems rare. When we need support, we are often left stranded. Nevertheless, we push forward with our rugged individualism, which, while being one of our great cultural assets, can also prevent us from the professional benefits of connecting with colleagues.

As teachers in American schools,

it often feels like we are isolated on our own

classroom islands trying to survive

from day to day.

Since the 2010-2011 school year has concluded, we have been hearing about the effects of pending budget cuts. We are going to be asked to do more with less. Lunch and prep times will be shortened while class times are extended. While everyone feels the need to buckle down as individuals to make the necessary adjustments for our students, we should also recognize the need to build community and be happy at our schools.

Weekly opportunities to connect with colleagues could be a nice place to start. Upon returning to my high school next year, I will propose a weekly meeting time for teachers who share a prep period with me. Everyone will be invited. I will encourage people to bring a snack to share. As teachers who are bound to be stressed and overworked, finding time to share with others will always be challenging. Nevertheless, efforts to connect and build community, as the Swedes do with their fika and the Koreans do in their gyomushils, are essential to us in America too.

Luke Zeller teachers English at Overbrook High School. Luke joined the Philadelphia Writing Project as a teacher consultant in 2010.