The majority of the questions given to us in these tests were multiple choice questions, called 객관식 문제 (The word "객관" comes from the Chinese "客觀," meaning the perspective of a guest: 객 means guest, think "고객 (VIP)" or "호객 (trying to attract guests)"; 관 means perspective "낙관 (optimistic)", "비관 (pessimistic)", or "세계관 (world view)." So this means "from the perspective of a third party," or "objective questions") As you must also know, your opinions really don't matter when you're trying to solve multiple-choice questions, because there is only one right answer.
There were the occasional 주관식 문제 (questions in the perspective of the host -- "주" means the host, as in "주인(owner)"), but although these should translate to "subjective questions" in English, they weren't really about our opinions. In the Korean school system in the 00s, 주관식문제 often just meant fill in the blanks, or answering in one sentence what the question was asking, and the questions had a definite correct answer.
Therefore, in some ways, in-classroom discussions were a waste of time. They contributed nothing to improving our performances in tests, so they simply did not take place. We were almost never invited to share our opinions, and the only way we spoke in class was to mutter a one-word answer to a close-ended question that our teachers posed.
And this makes sense. I am not trying to judge a culture. In fact, I think that given that the end goal is to do well in school by obtaining good grades, this is probably the most efficient way to get to that goal.
As this was the norm, volunteering to speak out in classes was seen as a huge anomaly, and it was just not done. If you did speak out, your classmates would call you out for being a 루저 (loser), or a 범생이 (it is a diminutive form of "모범생," or a "model student." They're treating "모범생" like a typical Korean name, where "모" is your last name, and "범생" is your first name, and they are calling you just by your first name for a little bit of humour.)
To some degree, this must be a formative experience. Even after they leave the school system, I have always found that the Koreans are a bit hesitant to express their opinions. When they do, it is almost never done with the absolute terms such as "It is definitely true that...," or "This is totally not okay to..." but rather "What do you think about...," or "I think it might be true that..."
Given this trend, bluntness or directness is not really a trait that is particularly prized in the Korean culture. (Actually, this probably goes up even further in the Korean culture, as the Koreans tend to value the good of the community over the individual gain. There is even a Korean proverb that goes "모난 돌이 정 맞는다," or "the stone that juts out gets the next strike of the chisel.")
On the other hand, this makes the Korean internet a particularly fascinating place for me. On the internet, all of the usual Korean reservedness and hesitance give way to blunt and vicious humour, and it makes me realize that there are many facets to being a Korean, and that they are capable of expressing themselves in the Western style. They just choose not to do it for the most part.
Anyway, for these reasons, speaking up requires more courage for a Korean than for a Westerner. And not surprisingly, Koreans have a word for this too. Say that someone is being annoying. Maybe they're slacking off and not pulling their weight in a group project. Maybe someone is not being very considerate of the others and taking up two seats in a crowded bus. Everyone hopes that someone says something, but they don't want to be the one speaking up, because it is such an uncomfortable experience. Then all the Koreans are probably thinking in their minds,
한마디 해줄 용자 어디 없나요?Or in English, "Isn't there a brave soul who is willing to say a word?"
"마디" is pure Korean, which means a unit of length, usually about as long as one joint of your finger, but it sometimes depends on the context (referring to the smallest unit of length). "한마디" is one such unit. In our context, since we are looking for someone to say something, the smallest unit of speech is a word.
"용자" is the slang I really want to talk about. "용" comes from Chinese, and it means "brave." You see it in words such as "용사" (warrior), "용기" (courage), "용맹" (bravery), "용감하다" (brave). "자" is also Chinese, and it means a person. You see it in everyday words, such as "남자" (man) and "여자" (woman), "승자" (winner), "패자" (loser, not in a derogatory way), and also in archaic setting: "의자" means "healer" (nowadays we say "의사" instead).
"용자" also has an archaic undertone. It would not be used in a normal usage of Korean, but if you were relating a fairy tale (or in a fantasy game), and a brave peasant (who has no training as a warrior) steps up to save a princess from a dragon, he would be called a "용자." In short, the only quality that sets him apart from the others is his bravery and courage.
This is a perfectly acceptable usage of "용자," although perhaps it is a bit humorous since the speaker is speaking as if the modern Korean society is akin to some medieval or archaic background.
Nowadays, especially on the Korean internet, but also among the Koreans within a similar age bracket, the word "용자" sometimes doubles as "stupidly brave." For example, if a person jaywalks while a police cruiser is parked just a few metres from her, you may say:
와, 저 사람 정말 용자네.You're really saying, "Wow, she is really stupidly brave."
Some other cases where you might call someone a "용자" includes: openly showing your love for animes of questionable quality or content, by bringing and showing off various products (with the exception of few very popular animes, you run the risk of being branded an otaku and a loser if you are too open about your anime tastes); betting on a sports team that almost always loses, or... solving a math problem like this:
So, to sum up, "용자" is a humorous and not super offensive, although informal. So you should be able to use this word in most settings, even to the elders as long as you're not trying to insult them!
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