I’ve figured out the best way to ask my students how old they are is not by asking “how old are you?” but rather “what year were you born?” Until June of 2023, Korea didn’t have a standardized way for measuring age, which caused both confusion on a legal level as well as when foreigners and Koreans spoke about age.
In many cases, Korea used the international system to calculate age, which is to say a baby born today would be zero. A year from now, that baby would be one year old. As an American writing primarily to Americans, that felt like explaining something not only obvious but also indelibly true. What else could a baby be after one year of life?
Well, folks, there is this beautiful thing called the Korean age system. In Korea, the day you are born, you are one year old. Then, when January 1st rolls around, you turn two regardless of your birthday. For example, I was born December 29, 1998. If I had been born in Korea, I would have been one year old on that day. Then, on January 1, 1999 I would have turned two years old. As far as Korea is concerned, I only spent three days as a one-year-old.
My grandfather, who will turn 100 years old on June 29, 2024 by international standards, has been 100 in Korea for almost a year. In a few days, he’ll be 101. Rock on, Gramps.
Is your head spinning yet? Imagine inevitably having this conversation at some point with every new friend or student you meet. That’s my life in Korea. This past June, Korea completely shifted legally to the international aging system, but it’s still very common (at least in my experience) for the question of age to be a long, drawn out affair when speaking with someone from Korea. I like it.
The fact that Korea has multiple ways to measure age is particularly fascinating to me because age hierarchy is baked into so many facets of Korean culture. Everything from the language you use to who pours whose water at the dinner table is determined by age. Yet, for years, Korea has been operating with multiple age systems. As a foreigner, I live at the periphery of so many of these cultural norms, but I imagine it’s not so hard to follow if you grew up with it.
Which brings me to the question at hand: Today is my birthday. I should be officially 25, but in Korea I’ve been 26 this whole year. Even as I write that, it feels unbelievable. How? That’s gotta be wrong. Someone fact check me. That means in a couple days I’ll be 27.
Sandra Cisneros has this beautiful short story called “Eleven.” This is the opening line: What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one.
I suppose with that logic I am a lot of ages. You can choose which one I seem most like today. I know that when I spend time with my students, I am definitely still six and eight and ten. It’s wonderful to get to re-live childhood on the other side of the planet. It makes me realize just how lucky my first time around was.
I also know when I spend time with my students, I feel the responsibility of being 25. It’s a privilege to see 25 and to get to care for the younger generation. Even if all I do is tell them to wash their hands and teach them for the hundredth time how to spell the word beautiful.
Cheers to a new age and a new year. I’ve got a good feeling about 25. Or 27, depending on your perspective.
All the love,
Diana