Living in Korea, I must confess that my understanding of the culture comes primarily from teenagers. More specifically, I've from the Korean teenagers to whom I teach conversational English, five nights a week. 

I know a lot of teachers who loathe this age group. Me? I love them, with their stubborn opinions and dramatic stories. As a relative neophyte to Korea, I'm keen to ask them questions about their country. And as teens who yearn to be taken seriously, they love the fact that I find them fascinating. So far, this dynamic has been working beautifully, propelled by the fact that these kids, like all Koreans, are mad about their country. We've discussed Korean music, teen heartthrobs, and the ubiquity of cosmetic surgery among Korean girls. They tell me their honest impressions of the world, of America (flattering), Europe (neutral) and other Asian countries (let's just call it colourful).  And no matter the topic, be it electronics or pop songs, it's believed that Korea does it best. 

Now I'm a big fan of national pride - what Canadian isn't? It's been my experience that where nationalistic confidence exists, xenophobia has little room to grow. Confident people don't often feel irrationally threatened, and I think it's true for countries as well. However, things can get murky when this nationalism conflicts with other, more global perspectives. During one class, 14-year-old Peter threw his textbook on the floor in anger. We were reading about Johann Gutenberg, inventor of the printing press. At this, Peter was outraged. 

"Teacher, it is a lie!" he said dramatically. "Printing was invented by Koreans."

"Oh?" I made a mental note to research the matter. For all I knew, it could be a debated historical issue. "That's interesting Peter. What are some other things invented in Korea?"

Six hands shot into the air. "Samsung!!!" the whole room yelled in unison. Samsung was the pride and joy of Korea, a homegrown company with international might. Weeks earlier when my Sony laptop had crashed, it seemed every Korean in the neighbourhood had tracked me down just to say "if it were a Samsung computer, it wouldn't have problems." It had hardly been comforting. 

"Yes, Samsung is a Korean company. But what about inventions? Things we use today?"

Peter's hand was firmly in the air. "Koreans invented astronomy studies."

I made a note to research that too.

"Koreans invented laptop computer!"

"Really? I hadn't heard that before..."

"Teacher!" Peter was almost jumping out of his seat. "Koreans invented the chopsticks!"

At this, I stopped him. "Are you sure? I think they were invented in China."

He looked at me with the wide-eyed intensity that teenagers did so well. "It was NOT China." The other students were nodding. "It was Korea. Chinese people steal our invention!"

This discussion was fast becoming touchy, and I couldn't do anything but move on. "Okay, any other Korean inventions?"

Peter's earnest hand was in the air again. "Teacher! Koreans invented soup."

"Soup?"

"Soup, teacher."

"How did they invent soup?"

A pause. Peter looked down at his mobile phone, as though it would give him the answer. "It was many years ago."

"I don't think soup was really an invention, Peter. I think it just..... happened."

Peter fixed me with another intense stare. "Teacher, Korean people invented soup. That is why soup is very popular. Soup is very healthy and Korean people invent many healthy foods." He spoke slowly, never breaking his gaze, as though making sure I understood each word. I wanted to laugh, but the whole class was smiling with such earnest pride, I couldn't say a thing.

I still don't know where Peter had gotten his information. Maybe he had a kooky grandfather, maybe he read it one the Internet. But maybe he was learning these ideas in school. Him, and millions of other Korean students, growing up to believe that all these great inventions spawned from their homeland. To this day, I can't sip a bowl of soup without wondering how it all came to be.