When I’m not reading and reviewing literature in translation, I can be found teaching English to foreign students at an Australian university, so reading Korean Teachers was an interesting experience. The novel takes us through a year at the Korean language school of H University in Seoul, with each of the four “semesters” seen through the eyes of a different teacher. It’s unnerving how well Seo describes the lives of people who can never quite be sure that they’ll have a job come the end of the course.

As the year progresses, the various teachers struggle to cope with issues that arise. Seon-yi, a new recruit, does her best in an unfamiliar job, hoping to be offered more work next semester, while the jaded Mi-ju is frustrated that teaching skills count for nothing when evaluation time comes around. Ga-eun, a popular, successful teacher, sees the world come crashing down around her because of certain extracurricular activities, and Han-hee, a coordinator hoping to be made a permanent employee, finds out that life doesn’t get any easier as you climb up the ladder.

Korean Teachers takes the unwitting reader on a journey through an incredibly precarious industry, one where immense peaks and troughs are caused by matters beyond its control. Enrolments can be affected by government policies and associated visa delays, fluctuations in currency rates and news reports of racist abuse flooding the internet. It doesn’t take a global pandemic to create an environment where any teacher without an ongoing position is constantly wondering where the next short-term contract is coming from.

If these problems affect all teachers equally, many of the situations encountered in Korean Teachers are specific to women. Early on, the focus is on Seon-yi discovering that students have posted photos of her online, and then wondering how complaining about it might affect her job prospects. Han-hee goes to even greater lengths to find job security, risking her health, and more. The female teachers are also affected by an unspoken belief that they’re lucky to have work, and that this is all just a hobby until they find a husband anyway.

While her novel focuses on the teachers, Seo also shows the reader the issues their students face. Whether it’s sleeping through class after a gruelling night shift at their part-time job, or feeling depressed about being so far from home, away from loved ones, there are a host of downsides to being an international student. Not all of the teachers understand, and this is where the experienced Mi-ju falls down, too caught up in her own issues to see how unfairly she’s treating a student who fails to live up to her expectations.

Much of this reminded me of my own experiences. I could almost feel the butterflies that afflict the teachers taking a new class for the first time (after decades of teaching, it still happens to me) as well as the self-doubt caused by perceptions of other teachers being more popular, and a sense that image is valued over actual teaching ability. A less welcome aspect of teaching life I recognised was the meeting where the teachers are urged to speak their minds even though everyone knows it’s best not to make waves. What really hit home, though, were the teachers’ constant worries about future work, and the relief when rumours of higher student numbers came true. I’ve been there more times than I’d care to admit . . .

Whether you’re an educator or not, Korean Teachers is an engaging read, thanks in part to the structure. More than a novel, it’s a collection of novellas linked by both the setting and the comings and goings of minor characters in the background, some of whom will later have their own moment in the spotlight. A more conventional approach might have produced a stronger central plot, but in sharing the narrative load across four protagonists, the writer is able to explore the experiences of teachers at various stages of their careers, all facing very different issues.

There’s nothing flashy about Korean Teachers, and Elizabeth Buehler does an excellent job of allowing the novel to speak for itself, bringing Seo’s story across in clear prose. As we follow the four women on their journey through a world that’s almost more corporate than educational, with students seen as customers and education as a service, we share the teachers’ frustration, and their despair at ever finding a secure and fulfilling role. There are moments of joy, but overall, Korean Teachers paints a sad picture of a world where educators are disposable commodities – at least, that is, until the next influx of overseas students sees them being begged to return.

Tony Malone

Reviewer and English Teacher

Tony’s Reading List (https://tonysreadinglist.wordpress.com/)