This weekend has been a big waste of time, and there were a lot of things I needed to take care of. I feel like Mike and I have just been surviving lately, which is fine for the first two months here, but could get old really fast. I don't want to live like that anymore -- I've been doing it for absolutely ages, in different situations. So, some prioritizing needs to take place.
I stayed late at work on Friday and cleaned out the desk and cabinets in my classroom, which are still full of junk from a former native teacher from 2006. It's a start, anyway. The bill paying process here is really different from back home -- or at least, the way I did it back home. You pay directly out of your bank account, which means you have to go to the bank every time you have to pay bills, instead of just mailing a check. You can set it up to where it comes directly out of your bank account, but I'm going to need someone who speaks Korean to go with me to do that. I'm going to pay them out directly this weekend, and ask Coteacher if she'll go with me sometime this month (whenever it's convenient for her) to help me set that up. I really hate having to ask for help with every little thing....
The number one thing on my mind at the moment is getting a phone. That's something I've heard you can do on your own in English, but that you can run into some trouble, given the bad reputation of foreigners here. I would prefer to take someone with me who spoke Korean. Since Mr. Wan is always harassing me about getting one, I think I may ask him to stop into a shop and help me when we're in Hongdae next weekend. Then the weekends won't feel so cut off from the rest of the world.
The biggest basic problem at the moment is food. The rice cooker has helped a lot on the practical side, but I've been ill this weekend again every time I try to eat anything. I know it's just anxiety and I've got to get over it, but when you feel like tossing your cookies every time there's a plate in front of you, it can be pretty hard to force yourself to eat. And then the not eating only makes me feel sicker. So, the only thing I know to do is sort out other areas of distress here and hope the anxiety gets better.
I'm glad vacation is coming soon. Taking mine the last week of January and first week of February, and because of the national holidays at the end of January, I will only use 8 of 14 allotted days, but get 16 straight days off from work. Mike is taking his the week before mine. Don't know what we will do without each other, but I think the time away will be good for us both. Away from SK, that is -- not each other. Not because things here are bad, but just because the three/four month mark is supposed to be the hardest. Supposedly the average native English teacher only sticks it our for four months, because of the infamous onset of culture shock in the third and fourth month. It's all hearsay, anyway, but as time goes by, you slowly learn to pay a little more attention to your expat elders when they speak, even if it sounds ridiculous.
The working week is still good. Of course, the dread of Mondays is a worldwide phenomenon, but once that first class of the week goes off without a hitch, it's all downhill from there. Mr. Wan was asking about how I feel about the students, and telling me next year I should change to a school in Seoul, because the students are better educated and better behaved. I told him that, honestly, the students are what get me through the week, that I like them very much -- that I think I would be enormously less happy if I were here doing any other job.
In other news, this is absolute bullshit. Don't worry -- this blog isn't about to take a turn in that direction. But I think it's an interesting situation we're all in here -- Koreans and expats alike. A little unique to most foreign worker/citizen relationships, at least with the native English teachers.
Anyway, this is my favorite quote:
Many times he has asked schools to fire foreign teachers who make a hobby out of having sex at knifepoint, tracked down foreign lecturers who bring venereal disease, and warned security guards and hagwon authorities about kidnappers.
Also notice that, although "the Anti-English Spectrum Cafe ... works for the deportation of English teachers who ... have sex with Korean women," there's no call for the deportation of English teachers who have sex with Korean men?
Don't know that I even want to go near that one yet. Maybe I could write a book about it in another year or two. Suffice it to say that the legend of the Western woman's aversion to Asian men seems to be alive and well, both among foreigners and Korean citizens, and both in urban mythology/word-of-mouth chatter and (sadly enough) in practice. But. Again, that's only one of the many issues this important omission from the article touches upon.
11.28.2008
Last Nite
So, last night.
Yesterday was like official me and Mr. Wan day or something. We left the school at 1:20 to get to the other school for what ended up being called an "English festival", although it was nothing of the sort. Basically, we sat in on an English class with a native and Korean teacher, which was absolutely ridiculous. To the extent that I actually couldn't contain my laughter throughout. It was obvious the thing had been practiced with the kids ahead of time and that the kids had been hand picked for this little performance. The little angels sat attentively and enthusiastically, while the two teacher breezed through brand new vocabulary dealing with actual concepts, which the kids magnificently picked up after hearing it only one time. Every question resulted in dozens of raised hands and immaculately pronounced correct answers. As Mr. Wan put it, "Everybody knows this is a show."
At one point, one of the kids slipped up and just shouted, "TEACHER!" at the top of his lungs.
I leaned over to Mr. Wan and said, "Now I feel like I'm in one of my classes."
Afterward, I was forced to introduce myself (while using a microphone, which I absolutely hate) to the entire room of Incheon foreign teachers and Westerner wrangling coteachers with three other new teachers. I was the only one who knew the name of my school.
Then I also got picked as a "volunteer" to show an example of one of the games the foreign teachers plays with his classes, which only further solidified my resolve not to make my students do ridiculous things in front of the entire class just because they're 13/14/15. We all have a little pride, and it should be left alone.
After, Mr. Wan and I took a bus back to Hyoseong to hmm and haa over what we should do until 6:30, when his friend S would meet us. We wandered around for a while and very nearly meandered into one of those charming motel areas, which Mr. Wan told me is where men and women go alone. No shit, Mr. Wan. Eventually we found our way into a bar where Mr. Wan ordered me a Cass, and even though it tastes like shit, I was warm and smoking with a beer in front of me, and therefore the happiest I had been all day. Mr. Wan mentioned that we seem to be understanding each other better and having better conversation. I told him I had noticed the same thing, said I thought we were finally comfortable with one another. We did the whole ex's story exchange thing. He told me he still misses his first girlfriend from time to time, but not to worry -- that she lives in San Francisco and is married with two children. I told him I don't miss anyone from my romantic past, even slightly. He said, "I think maybe you have new boyfriend every day so much that you cannot remember." I told him that wasn't quite the case.
He asked me if I found any of the foreign teachers at the meeting attractive, and I told him I hadn't really noticed anyone in particular. He mentioned one -- sort of the typical American ideal, with blonde hair, a nice tan, muscles, tattoos. I told him that was absolutely not what I found attractive. One of the teachers had given a speech about how he just had a baby, and had married a Korean woman and highly suggested we date Koreans, which was stupid and not related to teaching at all. Mr. Wan said, "How about dating a Korean man, like the teacher suggested?" I told him I wasn't sure, that I think everyone would be very surprised to hear that I had a boyfriend. He said, "Korean or just boyfriend?" I said, just boyfriend.
We met S at the station. Mr. Wan had told me he has known her since he was 20, and she is 38, that she used to be very beautiful. He mentioned this again at dinner, in front of her, and I told him quite frankly that I thought she was still beautiful, very much so. Seeing the two of them together, I was pretty confused about what confused Mr. Wan about the relationship between Mike and me. They remind me a lot of us. Still, when the conversation turned to a particularly adorable math teacher in the office at work, and S and I teamed up on Mr. Wan about growing a pair and asking her out for coffee, he said to me, "How about Mike?"
"How about Mike what? To date the math teacher?"
"No. How about asking Mike for a date?"
"Fucking... why would I do that? At all?"
"You said you think he is very handsome."
"He is very handsome. But he's my friend."
S leaned in and held my arm. "You see, Liz, this is Korean men. They cannot believe in just friendship between a man and a woman. It's pathetic."
S is fantastic in every way imaginable. She traveled throughout the middle east when she was younger, and lived in Turkey for nearly a year. She never wants to get married, preferring instead to see as many men as she can. We had all kinds of lovely conversation about politics -- she even mentioned that although she is very happy Obama was elected, it will not change the system, and the system is the problem -- and poetry and the differences and similarities between being an American woman and a Korean woman, and being a female abroad in general. Mr. Wan started to sulk as the evening got deeper, and I told him I was getting horrible vibes from his direction. S said, "We are not paying enough attention to him."
Mr. Wan then told me, "You have to choose. S or me. You cannot like her better than me."
Then somehow Mr. Wan decided to ask S if she would introduce him to some of her students -- she works at an all girls high school. S told him to use his electronic dictionary to look up the word "pedophile". This suggestion out of him gained him so much attention from us, that he decided it would be wise to take it to the next level and ask if I would ask Mike to introduce him to some of his female middle school students. I then introduced him to the concept of the Michael Magnes Step Too Far. He said he missed Mike and that he should be there to keep things balanced, since S and I were only talking to each other.
Around midnight, we were all fairly drunk, when some younger guys at the table behind us suddenly decided to fling some soju at us. S turned her chair around and proceeded to have a confrontation with one of the young men, while the other quickly got up and left the table. They were part of a much larger group which were seated at the table adjacent to us, but we didn't know this at the time. S and the young man had a pretty serious sounding conversation in Korean, and eventually the other one came back and things started to get heated. Mr. Wan stood up and walked over to stand between S and the guys. She said something, and one of them kicked their table over into ours, smashed a shot glass and threw his cell phone at S, at which point I also stood and started to move toward him. Mr. Wan grabbed my arm and pulled me back, told me please to sit down. I said I would sit down as soon as the guy left the establishment. S continued shouting at the guy, as the bar staff began to gather to diffuse the situation. The young men were asked to leave.
After they had, S explained that the problem was that the young men decided Mr. Wan and S were being too friendly with me and were tired of hearing us speaking English. Basically, they said that Mr. Wan and S were kissing my ass because I was American and showing off their education by speaking English with me. As she was explaining this, one of the guys from the other table walked past and cackled, and when he got back to his table, stood in front of it, raised his arms and shouted, "Do you understand?" in English. I locked eyes on him for a moment and scanned the rest of the men at the table. Mr. Wan, seeing this, jumped up and grabbed the check. "I think it is time we should go." None of the men at the table would even look me in the eye, though, and I told Mr. Wan I wasn't going to start a fight for no reason, not to worry. He said, "No. I do not like this. We should go." S and I had just lit cigarettes and she told him we would stay and finish them. He stood in front of the table begging us to come on and leave, but I stayed seated with S until we had finished.
I don't know what to call that, exactly. Racism seems the most apt term, but it's not racism exactly, since their problem was not with me, but with Mr. Wan and S being friendly with me. I've heard of things like this happening, but certainly didn't expect it. I guess what it is, is just something that is a problem the world over, which is people not just minding their own damn business. Anyway, it was a truly fantastic evening, despite the situation, and I am really looking forward to meeting S again in Hongdae next weekend.
Yesterday was like official me and Mr. Wan day or something. We left the school at 1:20 to get to the other school for what ended up being called an "English festival", although it was nothing of the sort. Basically, we sat in on an English class with a native and Korean teacher, which was absolutely ridiculous. To the extent that I actually couldn't contain my laughter throughout. It was obvious the thing had been practiced with the kids ahead of time and that the kids had been hand picked for this little performance. The little angels sat attentively and enthusiastically, while the two teacher breezed through brand new vocabulary dealing with actual concepts, which the kids magnificently picked up after hearing it only one time. Every question resulted in dozens of raised hands and immaculately pronounced correct answers. As Mr. Wan put it, "Everybody knows this is a show."
At one point, one of the kids slipped up and just shouted, "TEACHER!" at the top of his lungs.
I leaned over to Mr. Wan and said, "Now I feel like I'm in one of my classes."
Afterward, I was forced to introduce myself (while using a microphone, which I absolutely hate) to the entire room of Incheon foreign teachers and Westerner wrangling coteachers with three other new teachers. I was the only one who knew the name of my school.
Then I also got picked as a "volunteer" to show an example of one of the games the foreign teachers plays with his classes, which only further solidified my resolve not to make my students do ridiculous things in front of the entire class just because they're 13/14/15. We all have a little pride, and it should be left alone.
After, Mr. Wan and I took a bus back to Hyoseong to hmm and haa over what we should do until 6:30, when his friend S would meet us. We wandered around for a while and very nearly meandered into one of those charming motel areas, which Mr. Wan told me is where men and women go alone. No shit, Mr. Wan. Eventually we found our way into a bar where Mr. Wan ordered me a Cass, and even though it tastes like shit, I was warm and smoking with a beer in front of me, and therefore the happiest I had been all day. Mr. Wan mentioned that we seem to be understanding each other better and having better conversation. I told him I had noticed the same thing, said I thought we were finally comfortable with one another. We did the whole ex's story exchange thing. He told me he still misses his first girlfriend from time to time, but not to worry -- that she lives in San Francisco and is married with two children. I told him I don't miss anyone from my romantic past, even slightly. He said, "I think maybe you have new boyfriend every day so much that you cannot remember." I told him that wasn't quite the case.
He asked me if I found any of the foreign teachers at the meeting attractive, and I told him I hadn't really noticed anyone in particular. He mentioned one -- sort of the typical American ideal, with blonde hair, a nice tan, muscles, tattoos. I told him that was absolutely not what I found attractive. One of the teachers had given a speech about how he just had a baby, and had married a Korean woman and highly suggested we date Koreans, which was stupid and not related to teaching at all. Mr. Wan said, "How about dating a Korean man, like the teacher suggested?" I told him I wasn't sure, that I think everyone would be very surprised to hear that I had a boyfriend. He said, "Korean or just boyfriend?" I said, just boyfriend.
We met S at the station. Mr. Wan had told me he has known her since he was 20, and she is 38, that she used to be very beautiful. He mentioned this again at dinner, in front of her, and I told him quite frankly that I thought she was still beautiful, very much so. Seeing the two of them together, I was pretty confused about what confused Mr. Wan about the relationship between Mike and me. They remind me a lot of us. Still, when the conversation turned to a particularly adorable math teacher in the office at work, and S and I teamed up on Mr. Wan about growing a pair and asking her out for coffee, he said to me, "How about Mike?"
"How about Mike what? To date the math teacher?"
"No. How about asking Mike for a date?"
"Fucking... why would I do that? At all?"
"You said you think he is very handsome."
"He is very handsome. But he's my friend."
S leaned in and held my arm. "You see, Liz, this is Korean men. They cannot believe in just friendship between a man and a woman. It's pathetic."
S is fantastic in every way imaginable. She traveled throughout the middle east when she was younger, and lived in Turkey for nearly a year. She never wants to get married, preferring instead to see as many men as she can. We had all kinds of lovely conversation about politics -- she even mentioned that although she is very happy Obama was elected, it will not change the system, and the system is the problem -- and poetry and the differences and similarities between being an American woman and a Korean woman, and being a female abroad in general. Mr. Wan started to sulk as the evening got deeper, and I told him I was getting horrible vibes from his direction. S said, "We are not paying enough attention to him."
Mr. Wan then told me, "You have to choose. S or me. You cannot like her better than me."
Then somehow Mr. Wan decided to ask S if she would introduce him to some of her students -- she works at an all girls high school. S told him to use his electronic dictionary to look up the word "pedophile". This suggestion out of him gained him so much attention from us, that he decided it would be wise to take it to the next level and ask if I would ask Mike to introduce him to some of his female middle school students. I then introduced him to the concept of the Michael Magnes Step Too Far. He said he missed Mike and that he should be there to keep things balanced, since S and I were only talking to each other.
Around midnight, we were all fairly drunk, when some younger guys at the table behind us suddenly decided to fling some soju at us. S turned her chair around and proceeded to have a confrontation with one of the young men, while the other quickly got up and left the table. They were part of a much larger group which were seated at the table adjacent to us, but we didn't know this at the time. S and the young man had a pretty serious sounding conversation in Korean, and eventually the other one came back and things started to get heated. Mr. Wan stood up and walked over to stand between S and the guys. She said something, and one of them kicked their table over into ours, smashed a shot glass and threw his cell phone at S, at which point I also stood and started to move toward him. Mr. Wan grabbed my arm and pulled me back, told me please to sit down. I said I would sit down as soon as the guy left the establishment. S continued shouting at the guy, as the bar staff began to gather to diffuse the situation. The young men were asked to leave.
After they had, S explained that the problem was that the young men decided Mr. Wan and S were being too friendly with me and were tired of hearing us speaking English. Basically, they said that Mr. Wan and S were kissing my ass because I was American and showing off their education by speaking English with me. As she was explaining this, one of the guys from the other table walked past and cackled, and when he got back to his table, stood in front of it, raised his arms and shouted, "Do you understand?" in English. I locked eyes on him for a moment and scanned the rest of the men at the table. Mr. Wan, seeing this, jumped up and grabbed the check. "I think it is time we should go." None of the men at the table would even look me in the eye, though, and I told Mr. Wan I wasn't going to start a fight for no reason, not to worry. He said, "No. I do not like this. We should go." S and I had just lit cigarettes and she told him we would stay and finish them. He stood in front of the table begging us to come on and leave, but I stayed seated with S until we had finished.
I don't know what to call that, exactly. Racism seems the most apt term, but it's not racism exactly, since their problem was not with me, but with Mr. Wan and S being friendly with me. I've heard of things like this happening, but certainly didn't expect it. I guess what it is, is just something that is a problem the world over, which is people not just minding their own damn business. Anyway, it was a truly fantastic evening, despite the situation, and I am really looking forward to meeting S again in Hongdae next weekend.
Well, I've just had my first little bout with racism. It wasn't so much a "little bout" as a bar fight, but I'll write more about that when I'm more sober and less fucking exhausted. Overall, it was a fantastic night. No idea how I'm meant to teach four classes tomorrow, but oh well. Suffice it to say, I like Mr. Wan's friend S very, very much and Mr. Wan, after tonight, is someone who I feel comfortable saying is very dear to me. Now, to bed, to salvage whatever minuscule amount of sleep is still available to me.
11.26.2008
I've got a good feeling, like I know how I'm feeling.
I only had one class today and I nearly died of boredom. On top of that, the third graders were still away, so I was all alone up in my fifth floor classroom. I did get some serious lesson planning done, so I can take it relatively easy this weekend. But my God.
I watched the buses with the third graders pull up outside this afternoon and all the teachers and students file off. Those poor, poor, poor, poor, poor teachers looked like they were knocking on death's door, even from five stories up. Apparently it rained the whole time, so on top of a grand total of ten hours on buses with our little cherubs, the teachers were cooped up inside with them for three days. I can't even imagine. And now they've got the rest of the working week to survive.
I've caved in and decided to give in to my coteachers cries for more "American" "culture" in the lessons and do the whole Thanksgiving thing. I wanted to bring in pumpkin pie for the boys to make the lesson less boring and more edible, but the only place to get it here is at Costco. Mr. Wan, who still somewhat refuses to admit he was wrong when he told me and Mike we could get Camel cigarettes anywhere in Seoul, told me that Costco has Camels when I mentioned the pie thing, while also explaining that the 50,000 won registration fee was probably a bit much just for pie. Pumpkin pie and Camels? I might be persuaded to part with the cash. But alas, Mr. Wan was just being a smartass again.
I'm pleased to report that we are slowly moving into more normal conversation patterns. He seems to understand me much better these days, as I suspected would be the case eventually. When I first arrived, he said something about it being hard for me to understand Koreans. It isn't. It's just that -- and I noticed this and had this discussion with more than one of my Korean students in New York -- it seems nearly impossible to adjust to an accent on the whole. For some reason I've yet to put my finger on, you have to adjust to the individual person and the way they phrase and pronounce things. I'm also quite sure there is a level of nervousness involved that keeps both parties second guessing themselves until things are more comfortable. Anyway, ever since he caught a look out of me last week when he asked me yet again what I did last night, and made the comment, "I think you are annoyed by same question every day," we've been actually talking about things. And it's really nice. To have someone to really talk to, on a day-to-day basis.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow, whatever the hell it is we are going to do during the day, and the hanging out thing afterward. Mike can't go because he has to go bowling with the "non smoking" crowd from his school, which is a shame. I'm still not that jazzed about hardcore drinking on a work night, especially as I have five classes on Friday, but I suppose it's something I'm going to have to get used to. Mr. Wan is already whining about the fact that I prefer walking reasonable distances to taking cabs. Today he informed me that it's supposed to be raining tomorrow, which "is not good for walking" and that he thinks it is "maybe two, three hours walking" to Jakjeon station from our school (it takes about twenty minutes). Then he suddenly asked me, "What about running? For your health." Yes. Clearly I'm someone who not only cares greatly about my health, but will also go to the effort of running for its sake. I informed him that I only run when something is chasing me. Then somehow we got on the subject of guns and I had to admit to having fired one more than once in my lifetime, and often before the age of 10.
I'm from Texas. Leave me alone.
I watched the buses with the third graders pull up outside this afternoon and all the teachers and students file off. Those poor, poor, poor, poor, poor teachers looked like they were knocking on death's door, even from five stories up. Apparently it rained the whole time, so on top of a grand total of ten hours on buses with our little cherubs, the teachers were cooped up inside with them for three days. I can't even imagine. And now they've got the rest of the working week to survive.
I've caved in and decided to give in to my coteachers cries for more "American" "culture" in the lessons and do the whole Thanksgiving thing. I wanted to bring in pumpkin pie for the boys to make the lesson less boring and more edible, but the only place to get it here is at Costco. Mr. Wan, who still somewhat refuses to admit he was wrong when he told me and Mike we could get Camel cigarettes anywhere in Seoul, told me that Costco has Camels when I mentioned the pie thing, while also explaining that the 50,000 won registration fee was probably a bit much just for pie. Pumpkin pie and Camels? I might be persuaded to part with the cash. But alas, Mr. Wan was just being a smartass again.
I'm pleased to report that we are slowly moving into more normal conversation patterns. He seems to understand me much better these days, as I suspected would be the case eventually. When I first arrived, he said something about it being hard for me to understand Koreans. It isn't. It's just that -- and I noticed this and had this discussion with more than one of my Korean students in New York -- it seems nearly impossible to adjust to an accent on the whole. For some reason I've yet to put my finger on, you have to adjust to the individual person and the way they phrase and pronounce things. I'm also quite sure there is a level of nervousness involved that keeps both parties second guessing themselves until things are more comfortable. Anyway, ever since he caught a look out of me last week when he asked me yet again what I did last night, and made the comment, "I think you are annoyed by same question every day," we've been actually talking about things. And it's really nice. To have someone to really talk to, on a day-to-day basis.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow, whatever the hell it is we are going to do during the day, and the hanging out thing afterward. Mike can't go because he has to go bowling with the "non smoking" crowd from his school, which is a shame. I'm still not that jazzed about hardcore drinking on a work night, especially as I have five classes on Friday, but I suppose it's something I'm going to have to get used to. Mr. Wan is already whining about the fact that I prefer walking reasonable distances to taking cabs. Today he informed me that it's supposed to be raining tomorrow, which "is not good for walking" and that he thinks it is "maybe two, three hours walking" to Jakjeon station from our school (it takes about twenty minutes). Then he suddenly asked me, "What about running? For your health." Yes. Clearly I'm someone who not only cares greatly about my health, but will also go to the effort of running for its sake. I informed him that I only run when something is chasing me. Then somehow we got on the subject of guns and I had to admit to having fired one more than once in my lifetime, and often before the age of 10.
I'm from Texas. Leave me alone.
11.25.2008
Big brown eyes and a gust of wind.
Kind of a rough one today. I don't know what the deal was, but the screaming/hitting seemed to be at an all time high today -- I mean teacher to student, not student to student. Saw more than one kid reduced to tears. I know they can be massive pains in the ass, but it seems like it's never the ones that could really use a good smack that catch it. It's just depressing. I'm a sucker for kids, is the truth. And it's only getting worse now that I'm starting to get to know them and they're starting to get to know me. Their little hands and faces. I just want to take them all out to a video arcade with free ice cream or something. Maybe I'm not enough of a hardass to be a teacher. I don't know. But I do know that Coteacher seriously rained on my parade today.
I've got to give the woman props. She reminds me of my old boss Hope, in that she occupies approximately four and half feet and 100 pounds of space, but she can strike fear into the hearts of any who dare to cross her by merely giving a look. Her classes are by far the best behaved and most attentive and respectful. I could learn more than a few things from Coteacher.
I'm doing numbers again this week with the first graders, because I noticed while doing the book lesson on "How much is it?" that their number skills were more than lacking. And it's one of the most important parts of functionally learning another language, as Mike and I have learned all to well in our short time here. But it's fucking boring. And, as far as I have managed to discern, there's no real way to give it any oomph. So I have, as I mentioned before, been ending the classes with Hangman to make up for it. Coteacher, however, was appalled once she got a glimpse of what I saw last week, and completely wigged out at the kids for being so poor with numbers. So instead of ending with Hangman, today, the boys finished class with a really loud lecture and an assignment to write all of the numbers 20 times each for homework. Bummer.
Like I said, it's not necessarily wrong. They do need to know the numbers and writing them over and over again might be as good a way as any to learn them. And I know school isn't supposed to be party time. But, as I also said, I'm a gigantic sucker for their big brown eyes. And am feeling particularly sentimental today, for some reason.
There's something going on on Thursday -- I'm not exactly certain what. Language barriers and whatnot. What I am sure of is that Mr. Wan and I are going to another school to do something for two hours -- I believe we will be observing other English classes and evaluating them. Why I've been chosen to do this, with all of my massive one and a half months of classroom teaching experience, is completely beyond me. The good news is, Mr. Wan is awesome/irresponsible and therefore has already informed me that we will secretly duck out after just an hour and go do something else with the rest of our day. I'm down with that.
Mr. Wan also told me I have to drink a lot when we go out this week. I told him I used to be the best drinker in my entire circle -- could drink anyone under the table -- but I think I'm going soft in my old age. He told me not to worry, that he doesn't misbehave when he drinks, but that when he was younger, he once punched through the glass in a telephone booth. I got to see the scars and everything. I said I don't do anything bad when I've been drinking, except talk a little more than I would normally prefer to, and get a little too passionate about politics, should they come up. There are a few other things I tend to do a little more freely when I drink, but I stayed off that subject. He said he is a good man, these days, and will look after me if I get too drunk. That's nice to know and all, but all the same, I think I'll try to keep it on the level.
I've got to give the woman props. She reminds me of my old boss Hope, in that she occupies approximately four and half feet and 100 pounds of space, but she can strike fear into the hearts of any who dare to cross her by merely giving a look. Her classes are by far the best behaved and most attentive and respectful. I could learn more than a few things from Coteacher.
I'm doing numbers again this week with the first graders, because I noticed while doing the book lesson on "How much is it?" that their number skills were more than lacking. And it's one of the most important parts of functionally learning another language, as Mike and I have learned all to well in our short time here. But it's fucking boring. And, as far as I have managed to discern, there's no real way to give it any oomph. So I have, as I mentioned before, been ending the classes with Hangman to make up for it. Coteacher, however, was appalled once she got a glimpse of what I saw last week, and completely wigged out at the kids for being so poor with numbers. So instead of ending with Hangman, today, the boys finished class with a really loud lecture and an assignment to write all of the numbers 20 times each for homework. Bummer.
Like I said, it's not necessarily wrong. They do need to know the numbers and writing them over and over again might be as good a way as any to learn them. And I know school isn't supposed to be party time. But, as I also said, I'm a gigantic sucker for their big brown eyes. And am feeling particularly sentimental today, for some reason.
There's something going on on Thursday -- I'm not exactly certain what. Language barriers and whatnot. What I am sure of is that Mr. Wan and I are going to another school to do something for two hours -- I believe we will be observing other English classes and evaluating them. Why I've been chosen to do this, with all of my massive one and a half months of classroom teaching experience, is completely beyond me. The good news is, Mr. Wan is awesome/irresponsible and therefore has already informed me that we will secretly duck out after just an hour and go do something else with the rest of our day. I'm down with that.
Mr. Wan also told me I have to drink a lot when we go out this week. I told him I used to be the best drinker in my entire circle -- could drink anyone under the table -- but I think I'm going soft in my old age. He told me not to worry, that he doesn't misbehave when he drinks, but that when he was younger, he once punched through the glass in a telephone booth. I got to see the scars and everything. I said I don't do anything bad when I've been drinking, except talk a little more than I would normally prefer to, and get a little too passionate about politics, should they come up. There are a few other things I tend to do a little more freely when I drink, but I stayed off that subject. He said he is a good man, these days, and will look after me if I get too drunk. That's nice to know and all, but all the same, I think I'll try to keep it on the level.
11.24.2008
You don't know bad.
There are about two and a half tables of boys in my second period class today that I would love to string up by their toenails, no ifs, ands, or buts. Especially since that class has been devoid of one coteacher for the last three weeks. One of the boys even asked after her today: "Teacher, where is the ugly English teacher?" I tried to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about.
"What, you mean me?"
"Oh no! No! Ugly English Teacher! Korean!"
"You'll have to be more specific."
Only the smart kids at the front table got that joke.
"No! She have glasses! She old! Forty!"
"I don't know where she is."
At least I know no matter what else I am, the title of "Ugly English Teacher" is held by someone else....
Anyway, they were total beasts. Today we've been reviewing numbers, but I have my smart classes, so they've been finishing way ahead of time. So, Hangman it is. But I've got Mike's stumper of a time telling worksheet on hand for threat -- if they don't behave well enough and let me finish the lesson, it's the worksheet instead of the game.
Well, about three fourths of the way through second period, everyone had a time telling worksheet. That was just fine with them. They had no problems ignoring the first worksheet -- why not throw another on the pile? That is, until Gullible English Teacher, or whatever it is the little darlings call me, started walking from table to table telling each boy to put their name on the top of the worksheet and marking the quiet, well-behaved boys' worksheets with blue dots. One of the worst in the pack: "Teacher, why name?"
"So I know who they belong to when I take them up."
"Up? Up!?!"
"Yes. Up."
Panic. "Teacher! Teacher! How do you do?"
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe I explained it and you didn't hear because you were talking. Or maybe I just don't want to explain it because you made me tired and gave me a headache."
Went to the front of the room and proceeded to have a pleasant conversation with the quiet boys who were told the blue dot means they don't have to do the worksheet at all.
Little fuckers.
I did take the two worst out in the hall to have a little personal chat. They thought it was funny -- well, the dickhead ring leader thought it was funny. If there was one three minute window where I wish I could have spoken fluent Korean today, it would have been while I had that kid in the hall. Something along the lines of, look you little shit. I know you think you're well hard sitting in the back of the room and only half-assedly managing to ignore the lesson. I know you thought coming in and sitting in your seat and making pornographic moaning noises was going to cause me to flip my lid. But I'm a fucking American, you fuck. An American who lived in Brooklyn for five years. There's not a whole fucking lot you can do to shock or upset me. I've done things you don't even know exist outside of movies. I understand that rolling your eyes and popping your collar makes you some kind of badass here, but I'm not fucking interested.
The next time that kid starts shit, I'm going to just tell him to get out of my class. I don't care where he goes -- I'm not even going to interrupt the lesson long enough to come up with a discipline for him. He's just getting out. He can smoke crack in the bathroom for all I care, so long as I don't have to look at his smug little face. And if someone wants to say something to me about my students wandering around in the halls during class time, that's fine -- I'll just ask where my ugly coteacher is.
Anyway, the other three classes I've had today have more than made up for it. I was a little worried I would take second period out on third, but the second the boys started coming in with their big fantastic smiles and, "Hi Teacher!".... well I could give a fuck about second period, anyway.
"What, you mean me?"
"Oh no! No! Ugly English Teacher! Korean!"
"You'll have to be more specific."
Only the smart kids at the front table got that joke.
"No! She have glasses! She old! Forty!"
"I don't know where she is."
At least I know no matter what else I am, the title of "Ugly English Teacher" is held by someone else....
Anyway, they were total beasts. Today we've been reviewing numbers, but I have my smart classes, so they've been finishing way ahead of time. So, Hangman it is. But I've got Mike's stumper of a time telling worksheet on hand for threat -- if they don't behave well enough and let me finish the lesson, it's the worksheet instead of the game.
Well, about three fourths of the way through second period, everyone had a time telling worksheet. That was just fine with them. They had no problems ignoring the first worksheet -- why not throw another on the pile? That is, until Gullible English Teacher, or whatever it is the little darlings call me, started walking from table to table telling each boy to put their name on the top of the worksheet and marking the quiet, well-behaved boys' worksheets with blue dots. One of the worst in the pack: "Teacher, why name?"
"So I know who they belong to when I take them up."
"Up? Up!?!"
"Yes. Up."
Panic. "Teacher! Teacher! How do you do?"
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe I explained it and you didn't hear because you were talking. Or maybe I just don't want to explain it because you made me tired and gave me a headache."
Went to the front of the room and proceeded to have a pleasant conversation with the quiet boys who were told the blue dot means they don't have to do the worksheet at all.
Little fuckers.
I did take the two worst out in the hall to have a little personal chat. They thought it was funny -- well, the dickhead ring leader thought it was funny. If there was one three minute window where I wish I could have spoken fluent Korean today, it would have been while I had that kid in the hall. Something along the lines of, look you little shit. I know you think you're well hard sitting in the back of the room and only half-assedly managing to ignore the lesson. I know you thought coming in and sitting in your seat and making pornographic moaning noises was going to cause me to flip my lid. But I'm a fucking American, you fuck. An American who lived in Brooklyn for five years. There's not a whole fucking lot you can do to shock or upset me. I've done things you don't even know exist outside of movies. I understand that rolling your eyes and popping your collar makes you some kind of badass here, but I'm not fucking interested.
The next time that kid starts shit, I'm going to just tell him to get out of my class. I don't care where he goes -- I'm not even going to interrupt the lesson long enough to come up with a discipline for him. He's just getting out. He can smoke crack in the bathroom for all I care, so long as I don't have to look at his smug little face. And if someone wants to say something to me about my students wandering around in the halls during class time, that's fine -- I'll just ask where my ugly coteacher is.
Anyway, the other three classes I've had today have more than made up for it. I was a little worried I would take second period out on third, but the second the boys started coming in with their big fantastic smiles and, "Hi Teacher!".... well I could give a fuck about second period, anyway.
11.23.2008
He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.
After a slight adjustment in plans, Mike ended up coming over to mine yesterday. Saturdays have continued their toxic trend thus far, and so we opted to just not even try to go outdoors. We did some grocery shopping, where I was forced to buy a 24 pack of toilet paper because there wasn't anything smaller and nearly had to cave in on the six pack of soap, before Mike spotted a three pack on the bottom shelf. What the fuck. I'm one lonely person. I don't need all of this shit at once.
Also bought some kind of posh rice (because I wasn't able to find any cheaper) for my new rice cooker. Someone on one of the expat forums said living in SK is like having 50 million mothers. Sometimes it feels that way. I was on my way out the door on Thursday with Coteacher when The Most Beautiful Woman in the World came rushing out of the admin office. She said something very excitedly to Coteacher, and Coteacher asked me if I had enough blankets to be warm at night. I said yes, I have three, and my ondol is top notch. She said, well maybe you need one more. I said, well I really don't think so, as I'm not even using one of them at the moment. She said, yes, but what if you have a guest? Well I wasn't about to explain that my guests usually sleep in the bed with me, not that I have any recently or for the foreseeable future. So I just said, well I can buy a blanket......
Well, if you need one, you just let her know. Okay. Okay. Then, do you have a rice cooker? Well, no....
Korean hysteria. She will get for you! She will get rice cooker! It will come soon!
Well, I mean, I was planning on just running to Home Plus and picking one....
No! She will get for you! She!
O...okay.
So sure enough, Friday I was walking out and Coteacher comes running and screaming down the hall: "Liz! Liz! Riiiiiiiice cooooooooker! It's heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!" And there, it was. I went down to the admin office, where four women explained to me in Korean/mime how to use it all at once.
What you do is, you put the rice and water in. Then you plug it in. Then you press the button.
I have a diagram if it gets too confusing.
So, Mike came over and we lesson planned for a bit, and then we listened to a radio play version of Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while Mike uploaded files he brought for me onto my computer, and I cooked rice for curry and cleaned the kitchen a bit. Mike also downloaded "Black Books" onto my laptop a couple of weeks ago, so we watched a few episodes of that and had some coffee before he went home. None of that was necessarily in that order.
We've been talking a lot lately about teaching, and how kind of fucked up this system is. Not the SK public school system in general, but the incorporation of the native teachers. We're trying to think of anything we can to make it better, but let's face it -- we're not exactly experts. We've come up with a plan that might be a little more fun than the textbooks, if we can get it to work. Since Mike works at an all girls school, and me at an all boys school, we thought it would be cool to get a couple of cheap web cams and microphones and let our classes talk to each other through Skype. The kicker is, if they say even one word in Korean, they have to hand the microphone over -- English only. I'm not sure if that would be, as Mike put it, "the perfect recipe for a silent hell" or if it would just cause total chaos, but I think if we can plan it out enough, it's worth a shot.
I'm also getting really tired of coming across boys in my class who still can't read English and having my coteachers tell me it's because their concentration is bad. It's entirely possible that is the reason for some of them, but I'm willing to bet it's not the main cause with most. I'm not sure how aware or unaware the ROK is of learning disabilities at this point, as it's still an incredibly shaky issue back home as well. The problem is, I don't have enough confidence in my teaching abilities to take this on just yet. I did a lot of work with my younger brother and cousin, who are both dyslexic, when they were learning to read, but a classroom full of kids who don't speak English is a different ballgame entirely. I'm going to work on it though, see what I can come up with as far as lesson plans, and then pitch the idea to Coteacher for an after school class for these kids. I don't even care if I don't get paid for it -- it's too important. If these kids are going to be expected to continue learning English for the rest of their academic careers (or lives), then this has to come first. It can't just be bypassed, or blamed on the kids.
Also bought some kind of posh rice (because I wasn't able to find any cheaper) for my new rice cooker. Someone on one of the expat forums said living in SK is like having 50 million mothers. Sometimes it feels that way. I was on my way out the door on Thursday with Coteacher when The Most Beautiful Woman in the World came rushing out of the admin office. She said something very excitedly to Coteacher, and Coteacher asked me if I had enough blankets to be warm at night. I said yes, I have three, and my ondol is top notch. She said, well maybe you need one more. I said, well I really don't think so, as I'm not even using one of them at the moment. She said, yes, but what if you have a guest? Well I wasn't about to explain that my guests usually sleep in the bed with me, not that I have any recently or for the foreseeable future. So I just said, well I can buy a blanket......
Well, if you need one, you just let her know. Okay. Okay. Then, do you have a rice cooker? Well, no....
Korean hysteria. She will get for you! She will get rice cooker! It will come soon!
Well, I mean, I was planning on just running to Home Plus and picking one....
No! She will get for you! She!
O...okay.
So sure enough, Friday I was walking out and Coteacher comes running and screaming down the hall: "Liz! Liz! Riiiiiiiice cooooooooker! It's heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!" And there, it was. I went down to the admin office, where four women explained to me in Korean/mime how to use it all at once.
What you do is, you put the rice and water in. Then you plug it in. Then you press the button.
I have a diagram if it gets too confusing.
So, Mike came over and we lesson planned for a bit, and then we listened to a radio play version of Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while Mike uploaded files he brought for me onto my computer, and I cooked rice for curry and cleaned the kitchen a bit. Mike also downloaded "Black Books" onto my laptop a couple of weeks ago, so we watched a few episodes of that and had some coffee before he went home. None of that was necessarily in that order.
We've been talking a lot lately about teaching, and how kind of fucked up this system is. Not the SK public school system in general, but the incorporation of the native teachers. We're trying to think of anything we can to make it better, but let's face it -- we're not exactly experts. We've come up with a plan that might be a little more fun than the textbooks, if we can get it to work. Since Mike works at an all girls school, and me at an all boys school, we thought it would be cool to get a couple of cheap web cams and microphones and let our classes talk to each other through Skype. The kicker is, if they say even one word in Korean, they have to hand the microphone over -- English only. I'm not sure if that would be, as Mike put it, "the perfect recipe for a silent hell" or if it would just cause total chaos, but I think if we can plan it out enough, it's worth a shot.
I'm also getting really tired of coming across boys in my class who still can't read English and having my coteachers tell me it's because their concentration is bad. It's entirely possible that is the reason for some of them, but I'm willing to bet it's not the main cause with most. I'm not sure how aware or unaware the ROK is of learning disabilities at this point, as it's still an incredibly shaky issue back home as well. The problem is, I don't have enough confidence in my teaching abilities to take this on just yet. I did a lot of work with my younger brother and cousin, who are both dyslexic, when they were learning to read, but a classroom full of kids who don't speak English is a different ballgame entirely. I'm going to work on it though, see what I can come up with as far as lesson plans, and then pitch the idea to Coteacher for an after school class for these kids. I don't even care if I don't get paid for it -- it's too important. If these kids are going to be expected to continue learning English for the rest of their academic careers (or lives), then this has to come first. It can't just be bypassed, or blamed on the kids.
11.21.2008
11.20.2008
Look out. Here I come again and I'm bringing my friends.
There was nearly a fight in my second period today. Of course, no coteacher. There's this fucking weird kid... you all know the one I mean. Every class has one. Anyway, the kid's a tool. I'm not saying it excuses the fact that every time he comes in I have to physically make the boys allow him to sit at their table. And it's not cool how they jibe at him all the time. But seriously. It's one of those situations that just begs the phrase "asking for it". Anyway, I get him situated, and I tell Mr. Cool Guy behind him to turn the fuck around and leave it be, etc. etc. Anyway, long story short, I'm walking around helping with an exercise and I look over and the doofus kid has got the kid next to him seriously pissed off. These are not joking faces. Doofus took one too many swings on the other kid for it to be funny anymore. I tell Doofus to sit the fuck down and get the other kid by the shoulders and get his eye contact off the doofus kid. "Are you okay?"
"TEACHER! TEACHER! HE HIT! HE HIT!" Yes, my little cherubs. Thank you for the help, but I'm fairly certain I understand what's going on here.
The kid nods that he's okay. I rub his shoulders a little bit. "Calm down, okay?"
"Okay..."
"TEACHER! TEACHER!" Yes, yes I know. Thank you.
I tell Doofus to grab his stuff and come with me, at which point Mr. Cool Guy decides to pop off and Doofus kicks him in the lower back in retaliation. I don't entirely mind this. But I'm the teacher -- I'm obligated to intervene. I grab the kid's shit and pull him up out of his chair and start to haul him out to the hallway. Kid busts out in streams of tears, at which point the entire class goes mental. I get the kid out in the hall, still sobbing hysterically and tell him to stay right where he is. Back into the classroom.
"Do you know what trust is?"
"Yes."
"I am trusting you. While I am away. Don't break my trust. Do you understand?"
Serious faces. "Yes."
Doofus, of course, is only crying because he thinks he's about to get some principal sized ass whooping for fighting in class. But you know ratting people out ain't my style. It wasn't anything any more serious (physically) than what I see five million times a day. It was just that tempers got involved. So I tell the kid to calm down -- of course he speaks/comprehends exactly zero English -- but I do manage to get him to understand "bathroom". "Bathroom. Understand? Wash your face. Take deep breaths. Calm down. Okay?"
"Okay."
Back in the classroom. "Teacher where did he go?"
"None of your business."
They all look confused until my darling, darling little South African translates for them.
"Oooooooh....."
I asked the two kids he hit and kicked if they were okay. The one kid nods that he is, and Mr. Cool Guy stands up and rubs his back, "Oooooh oooooooh. I hurt. I am sick."
"Yeah okay. I think you'll survive. Sit down. When he comes back, there is a wall. Do you understand? Do not look at him. Do not talk to him. Do not touch him. A wall. Understand?"
They said they did. And they appeared to. There was no more trouble the rest of the class, although I made the judgement call to put the doofus kid right back where he was sitting before. The boys took it upon themselves to put someone between him and the kid he hit, and then were perfect -- loud, but perfect -- for the rest of the period.
My darling South African called me over. "I am sitting here and just working on my book and that kid got mad at me for no reason."
"Yeah. Look, that kid is weird, okay? I know."
"But how can somebody be so weird?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just how he is, or maybe it's because everyone picks on him all the time. But either way, you should just ignore him. People like him are not just in school -- you will meet them all your life. You are the bigger person, so just ignore him."
"I'm the what?"
"The bigger person. You are the bigger person."
"Ah. Thank you."
It's started snowing during my class with Mr. Wan and the boys lost all interest and I sort of let them. The truth is, I was more interested in the snow as well. It was a pretty great moment, watching them all gather around the windows. Then at lunch Mr. Wan had to ruin it by saying he misses his ex girlfriend today. Seriously. Get it together, Mr. Wan. Mr. No Name stole the show again I'm afraid by managing exactly the right English at exactly the right moment. He told Mr. Wan that he wanted to say something to me but he couldn't think of anything. When Mr. Wan translated this while laughing, Mr. No Name turned to him and just said, "Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"Just eat your lunch. Talk about yourself only. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me," was Mr. Wan's response. Then he got wise and shot back, "Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
Korean Korean Korean.
Mr. Wan: "He says he is preparing for a girlfriend."
"Uh... how?"
Mr. No Name: "Expensive cosmetics."
Fucking hell.
"TEACHER! TEACHER! HE HIT! HE HIT!" Yes, my little cherubs. Thank you for the help, but I'm fairly certain I understand what's going on here.
The kid nods that he's okay. I rub his shoulders a little bit. "Calm down, okay?"
"Okay..."
"TEACHER! TEACHER!" Yes, yes I know. Thank you.
I tell Doofus to grab his stuff and come with me, at which point Mr. Cool Guy decides to pop off and Doofus kicks him in the lower back in retaliation. I don't entirely mind this. But I'm the teacher -- I'm obligated to intervene. I grab the kid's shit and pull him up out of his chair and start to haul him out to the hallway. Kid busts out in streams of tears, at which point the entire class goes mental. I get the kid out in the hall, still sobbing hysterically and tell him to stay right where he is. Back into the classroom.
"Do you know what trust is?"
"Yes."
"I am trusting you. While I am away. Don't break my trust. Do you understand?"
Serious faces. "Yes."
Doofus, of course, is only crying because he thinks he's about to get some principal sized ass whooping for fighting in class. But you know ratting people out ain't my style. It wasn't anything any more serious (physically) than what I see five million times a day. It was just that tempers got involved. So I tell the kid to calm down -- of course he speaks/comprehends exactly zero English -- but I do manage to get him to understand "bathroom". "Bathroom. Understand? Wash your face. Take deep breaths. Calm down. Okay?"
"Okay."
Back in the classroom. "Teacher where did he go?"
"None of your business."
They all look confused until my darling, darling little South African translates for them.
"Oooooooh....."
I asked the two kids he hit and kicked if they were okay. The one kid nods that he is, and Mr. Cool Guy stands up and rubs his back, "Oooooh oooooooh. I hurt. I am sick."
"Yeah okay. I think you'll survive. Sit down. When he comes back, there is a wall. Do you understand? Do not look at him. Do not talk to him. Do not touch him. A wall. Understand?"
They said they did. And they appeared to. There was no more trouble the rest of the class, although I made the judgement call to put the doofus kid right back where he was sitting before. The boys took it upon themselves to put someone between him and the kid he hit, and then were perfect -- loud, but perfect -- for the rest of the period.
My darling South African called me over. "I am sitting here and just working on my book and that kid got mad at me for no reason."
"Yeah. Look, that kid is weird, okay? I know."
"But how can somebody be so weird?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just how he is, or maybe it's because everyone picks on him all the time. But either way, you should just ignore him. People like him are not just in school -- you will meet them all your life. You are the bigger person, so just ignore him."
"I'm the what?"
"The bigger person. You are the bigger person."
"Ah. Thank you."
It's started snowing during my class with Mr. Wan and the boys lost all interest and I sort of let them. The truth is, I was more interested in the snow as well. It was a pretty great moment, watching them all gather around the windows. Then at lunch Mr. Wan had to ruin it by saying he misses his ex girlfriend today. Seriously. Get it together, Mr. Wan. Mr. No Name stole the show again I'm afraid by managing exactly the right English at exactly the right moment. He told Mr. Wan that he wanted to say something to me but he couldn't think of anything. When Mr. Wan translated this while laughing, Mr. No Name turned to him and just said, "Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"Just eat your lunch. Talk about yourself only. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me," was Mr. Wan's response. Then he got wise and shot back, "Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
Korean Korean Korean.
Mr. Wan: "He says he is preparing for a girlfriend."
"Uh... how?"
Mr. No Name: "Expensive cosmetics."
Fucking hell.
11.19.2008
One more thing...
To my lovelies who are still stateside, do consider participating (or not participating) in Day Without a Gay on December 10th. Very hard to hear that what we have managed to accomplished for gay rights even under one of the most oppressive administrations the US has ever seen has been suddenly overturned, even as we are moving forward politically. So let's not let that happen.
THERE ARE GIRLS IN THE HALLWAY. GIRLS. THEY'VE GOT HAIR AND LEGS AND EVERYTHING. OH MY GOD.
Oh, boys.
This is why segregating the genders doesn't work. At all.
Also, I'm kinda annoyed at Coteacher. I don't think she means to, but she freaks me out sometimes and it's completely unnecessary. I had a brand new class of second graders today, so I had just planned on doing lesson 10 from the book at top speed, and then moving on to all the other junk I have to teach them about speaking on the phone. When she came in, however, Coteacher marched right over to the desk and said, "Lesson 12?"
Fucking. What? I started to teach lesson 12 to some classes earlier this week and was told I was going too fast, that they hadn't started lesson 12 yet. So I explained that I had planned on doing lesson 10. She just looked at me and said, "We are on lesson 12."
So I nixed the book and went straight on to the other shit I had prepared. Cutting out the book, however, left me with five minutes at the end of class. It should have left me with ten to fifteen, but I managed to come up with some related impromptu nonsense. So I told the boys, you know, we've got five minutes left. Just hang out, whatever. And she looks at me and says, "We have five minutes left. Is there a game you can play with the students?"
No, there's not a fucking game I can play with the students.
So after class, I approached her and asked her if we could work out a way that I can know what lesson each of my five coteachers is working on with what class at any given time, because it's very confusing for me to be told I need to be on a certain lesson, but not be told what that lesson is. She explained to me that although she is on lesson 12, she has not taught my portion of the book to the boys from lesson 9 on, so I can teach whatever lesson I want -- it doesn't matter.
......... What the fuck was the "We're on lesson 12" bullshit about, then? Just caused a really unnecessary awkward five minutes at the end of a brand new class for no reason.
Language barriers. Cultural differences. I know. I know. But come on.
Oh, boys.
This is why segregating the genders doesn't work. At all.
Also, I'm kinda annoyed at Coteacher. I don't think she means to, but she freaks me out sometimes and it's completely unnecessary. I had a brand new class of second graders today, so I had just planned on doing lesson 10 from the book at top speed, and then moving on to all the other junk I have to teach them about speaking on the phone. When she came in, however, Coteacher marched right over to the desk and said, "Lesson 12?"
Fucking. What? I started to teach lesson 12 to some classes earlier this week and was told I was going too fast, that they hadn't started lesson 12 yet. So I explained that I had planned on doing lesson 10. She just looked at me and said, "We are on lesson 12."
So I nixed the book and went straight on to the other shit I had prepared. Cutting out the book, however, left me with five minutes at the end of class. It should have left me with ten to fifteen, but I managed to come up with some related impromptu nonsense. So I told the boys, you know, we've got five minutes left. Just hang out, whatever. And she looks at me and says, "We have five minutes left. Is there a game you can play with the students?"
No, there's not a fucking game I can play with the students.
So after class, I approached her and asked her if we could work out a way that I can know what lesson each of my five coteachers is working on with what class at any given time, because it's very confusing for me to be told I need to be on a certain lesson, but not be told what that lesson is. She explained to me that although she is on lesson 12, she has not taught my portion of the book to the boys from lesson 9 on, so I can teach whatever lesson I want -- it doesn't matter.
......... What the fuck was the "We're on lesson 12" bullshit about, then? Just caused a really unnecessary awkward five minutes at the end of a brand new class for no reason.
Language barriers. Cultural differences. I know. I know. But come on.
Can't get a line.
Miracle of miracles, I have awakened this morning to find that my computer-allergic little brother has sent me an email. It's not particularly detailed. In fact, it reads:
whats up i hope i did this right
if you get this hit me back ,
michael
But it's something, and it's made my day already. Mr. Wan was just asking me yesterday how I talk to my brother, since I talk about him all the time. I said, I haven't been. It's sort of hard. He said, I think you love your brother a lot. I said, yes. He's my favorite person.
whats up i hope i did this right
if you get this hit me back ,
michael
But it's something, and it's made my day already. Mr. Wan was just asking me yesterday how I talk to my brother, since I talk about him all the time. I said, I haven't been. It's sort of hard. He said, I think you love your brother a lot. I said, yes. He's my favorite person.
11.18.2008
Today My Friend kissed my hand. I thought he was just going to shake it like he normally does, otherwise I wouldn't have given it to him. I think that's the first time any one's ever kissed my hand. I'm definitely not going to be getting any respect from the third graders anytime soon.
Mr. No Name is twenty-eight years old and played StarCraft with his friend in a PC bang this weekend. And he won. Mr. Wan likes Star Wars and said his life is very lonely because he doesn't have a girlfriend. Okay. So I'm not hanging out with the coolest people. I can accept that. I told Mr. Wan that life is very big -- too big to worry about not having a girlfriend. There are friends, for instance. He told me he doesn't need friends if he has a girlfriend. Then I introduced Mr. Wan to the word "lame".
Mr. No Name talked quite a bit today. I was very pleased with him. Unfortunately, Mr. Wan somehow misunderstood what he was saying in English and corrected what I was thinking he had said. I wasn't sure if he had gained what he thought from Mr. No Name speaking in English or Korean, so I went with it, being used to the translation. Later in the conversation though, we found out that what I thought Mr. No Name had said was indeed what he had said. I understood him better than Mr. Wan. We both just don't trust ourselves enough yet, I guess. We should stop letting Mr. Wan interfere.
While we were having a sneaky smoke this afternoon, the smallest bit of snow started to fall. Mr. Wan told me in Korea, the first snow means you should go meet your lover. So I rushed home today and am now sitting with a hot cup of coffee, a full pack of smokes and a novel. It's tradition.
Mr. No Name is twenty-eight years old and played StarCraft with his friend in a PC bang this weekend. And he won. Mr. Wan likes Star Wars and said his life is very lonely because he doesn't have a girlfriend. Okay. So I'm not hanging out with the coolest people. I can accept that. I told Mr. Wan that life is very big -- too big to worry about not having a girlfriend. There are friends, for instance. He told me he doesn't need friends if he has a girlfriend. Then I introduced Mr. Wan to the word "lame".
Mr. No Name talked quite a bit today. I was very pleased with him. Unfortunately, Mr. Wan somehow misunderstood what he was saying in English and corrected what I was thinking he had said. I wasn't sure if he had gained what he thought from Mr. No Name speaking in English or Korean, so I went with it, being used to the translation. Later in the conversation though, we found out that what I thought Mr. No Name had said was indeed what he had said. I understood him better than Mr. Wan. We both just don't trust ourselves enough yet, I guess. We should stop letting Mr. Wan interfere.
While we were having a sneaky smoke this afternoon, the smallest bit of snow started to fall. Mr. Wan told me in Korea, the first snow means you should go meet your lover. So I rushed home today and am now sitting with a hot cup of coffee, a full pack of smokes and a novel. It's tradition.
11.17.2008
The third graders came back today. They haven't been around since one of the third grade teachers came in and caught them talking to me instead of cleaning whatever it was they were supposed to be cleaning and positively wigged out on them. They were led by My Friend, who showed me a bandaged finger and asked me to blow on it (which I did not) and then moon walked around the classroom, before pulling out a chair, straddling it and giving an enchanting performance of Patsy Cline's "Crazy". Apparently he was on tv or something. I would believe it. The kid's got flair. It's a damn shame I didn't get this all on video, mind you.
One of my coteachers isn't showing up to class anymore, so I have at least one class a day by myself. It's going alright. You can definitely notice a difference in the level of overall pandemonium, but not by too much. Today we were doing, "How much is....?" and I wasted a good fifteen minutes of every class writing numbers on the board and challenging the boys to read them out loud. Start with 156. Then, 156,829. Then, 156,829,204. 156,829,204,311. This was great fun, apparently.
My second least favorite coteacher usurped my authority in a really shitty way today. We had finished five minutes early and I wasn't really holding the boys attention much to be able to continue with anything else (this was right before lunch), so I just thanked them for their time and told them we had five minutes left -- they could talk to their friends or work on homework for other classes. The coteacher, however, interjected and told them to close their eyes and put their heads down. Then she whacked the shit out of two boys for opening their eyes. They hadn't done anything wrong -- the class, I mean. So I don't know what was wrong with giving them five minutes of free time.
Mr. Wan told me he had to teach seven -- fucking seven -- classes today, and that he has a lot of paperwork to do because of a fight that happened a week or so ago in one of his classes, so he will probably be at the school until ten, which means he won't be home until 11:30. He leaves his house at six every morning to be to work early for all the other work he has to do. Do that math, why don't you. I'm thinking about taking him up some food or coffee or something later in the evening, just because that sucks so much, but I also don't want it to seem like some kind of forward gesture or something. I'm an asshole. But my coworkers have got me so nervous about everything I do being viewed through the lens of me being a woman, that I feel the need to act carefully. Isn't that a shame?
One of my coteachers isn't showing up to class anymore, so I have at least one class a day by myself. It's going alright. You can definitely notice a difference in the level of overall pandemonium, but not by too much. Today we were doing, "How much is....?" and I wasted a good fifteen minutes of every class writing numbers on the board and challenging the boys to read them out loud. Start with 156. Then, 156,829. Then, 156,829,204. 156,829,204,311. This was great fun, apparently.
My second least favorite coteacher usurped my authority in a really shitty way today. We had finished five minutes early and I wasn't really holding the boys attention much to be able to continue with anything else (this was right before lunch), so I just thanked them for their time and told them we had five minutes left -- they could talk to their friends or work on homework for other classes. The coteacher, however, interjected and told them to close their eyes and put their heads down. Then she whacked the shit out of two boys for opening their eyes. They hadn't done anything wrong -- the class, I mean. So I don't know what was wrong with giving them five minutes of free time.
Mr. Wan told me he had to teach seven -- fucking seven -- classes today, and that he has a lot of paperwork to do because of a fight that happened a week or so ago in one of his classes, so he will probably be at the school until ten, which means he won't be home until 11:30. He leaves his house at six every morning to be to work early for all the other work he has to do. Do that math, why don't you. I'm thinking about taking him up some food or coffee or something later in the evening, just because that sucks so much, but I also don't want it to seem like some kind of forward gesture or something. I'm an asshole. But my coworkers have got me so nervous about everything I do being viewed through the lens of me being a woman, that I feel the need to act carefully. Isn't that a shame?
11.16.2008
Changdeokgung.
Today I met Wan (not Mr. Wan -- the other one). I told him he was in charge of the day, which is a horrible thing to do to a person, but he did a fantastic job. He took me to Changdeokgung, where we sat and drank coffee and smoked on a bench while we waited for the tour to begin. It was the perfect time to go, and the perfect place to go to enjoy the changing leaves. After, we got a late lunch (made him choose again) and then more coffee. We endured the freezing wind in order to sit outside where we could smoke. It was an absolutely beautiful day and this was the perfect way to spend it. Lovely conversations about all sorts of things. I wasn't paying attention on the train and nearly missed my stop, and therefore didn't get the chance to thank him properly.
I think Saturday and Sunday should swap places. The weekends go by far too fast these days.
I think Saturday and Sunday should swap places. The weekends go by far too fast these days.
11.15.2008
Orange juice fixes everything.
I don't know what it is about Saturdays. Saturday is the new Sunday. I get sick. And in the afternoons, there's a serious crash. The staring stops being funny and starts to give me violent urges, I don't want to eat anything and I just want to go home and go to bed.
Nonetheless, Mike and I made a good show of it today. We went to Insadong, but didn't do much other than walk up and down. I was feeling too shy to go into any of the paper shops. I really wish I spoke Korean. Most of the time it's fine, but it's the not knowing if it will be fine or not that makes me so nervous. Plus, I realize every time I see Mike, I really miss having real conversations. Mr. Wan and Coteacher speak decent English, but you still have to steer clear of anything other than simple declarative statements.
When we were sitting in the subway station waiting for Mike last night, I was telling Mr. Wan about how he will probably hear the difference between me and Mike when we speak, since Mike has a New York accent and I have a Texas accent -- that Mike's accent is much sharper and mine is more rounded. He told me then, "You know sometimes when you speak, I cannot understand you, but I pretend to anyway." Sometimes I can tell when he is doing this, and sometimes I figure it out later when he asks me about something I've already told him. And probably a lot of the times I just don't know. That upsets me a lot. I told him it's better to make me repeat myself or rephrase things than to not tell me he doesn't understand. I have to make him repeat himself a lot too, usually not because I can't understand his pronunciation but because of the phrasing -- I won't know exactly what he means. It's okay. This is the situation we are in. I won't pretend to understand him -- it's too important to me to make sure that I do, since there is only so much we can say in the first place.
There's so much miscommunication between two native speakers of a language anyway. One of my favorite fascinations. But it's that thing that fascinates me -- how someone can say one thing and mean another, and somehow you know what they really mean -- that I think is most helpful in the world I live in now. Our words may not be right for each other, but we can pick up on that intangible something else -- almost psychic. Without that, it would all be a wash.
It's what is frustrating me at the moment about Mr. No Name. I can tell in my gut that I like him, but I don't know why yet. I need words to confirm it. But I'm not able to have that.
Now, the photos:
Mike being a tourist.
Umbrellas in Insadong.
More.
How happy does the guy in that advert look?
Mike's neighborhood at night.
This orange juice is currently making my life worth living.
Nonetheless, Mike and I made a good show of it today. We went to Insadong, but didn't do much other than walk up and down. I was feeling too shy to go into any of the paper shops. I really wish I spoke Korean. Most of the time it's fine, but it's the not knowing if it will be fine or not that makes me so nervous. Plus, I realize every time I see Mike, I really miss having real conversations. Mr. Wan and Coteacher speak decent English, but you still have to steer clear of anything other than simple declarative statements.
When we were sitting in the subway station waiting for Mike last night, I was telling Mr. Wan about how he will probably hear the difference between me and Mike when we speak, since Mike has a New York accent and I have a Texas accent -- that Mike's accent is much sharper and mine is more rounded. He told me then, "You know sometimes when you speak, I cannot understand you, but I pretend to anyway." Sometimes I can tell when he is doing this, and sometimes I figure it out later when he asks me about something I've already told him. And probably a lot of the times I just don't know. That upsets me a lot. I told him it's better to make me repeat myself or rephrase things than to not tell me he doesn't understand. I have to make him repeat himself a lot too, usually not because I can't understand his pronunciation but because of the phrasing -- I won't know exactly what he means. It's okay. This is the situation we are in. I won't pretend to understand him -- it's too important to me to make sure that I do, since there is only so much we can say in the first place.
There's so much miscommunication between two native speakers of a language anyway. One of my favorite fascinations. But it's that thing that fascinates me -- how someone can say one thing and mean another, and somehow you know what they really mean -- that I think is most helpful in the world I live in now. Our words may not be right for each other, but we can pick up on that intangible something else -- almost psychic. Without that, it would all be a wash.
It's what is frustrating me at the moment about Mr. No Name. I can tell in my gut that I like him, but I don't know why yet. I need words to confirm it. But I'm not able to have that.
Now, the photos:
Mike being a tourist.
Umbrellas in Insadong.
More.
How happy does the guy in that advert look?
Mike's neighborhood at night.
This orange juice is currently making my life worth living.
11.14.2008
Take the Americans bowling.
Out with Mr. Wan and Coteacher and Mr. No Name tonight. I know his name now, but I'll keep it to myself -- keep up the mystery. We went and had a fantastic meal of bulgogi and I didn't even mind sitting on the floor. I think Mike likes Mr. Wan for all the reasons I thought he would. Mr. No Name won't speak English when there are other Koreans around, so he didn't actually talk to me much. I pointed this out and told him that I know he can speak English, he just won't. Mr. Wan translated for me, even though I'm reasonably sure he could have understood himself. Coteacher stuck around for the whole night, which surprised me, so we went bowling instead of drinking. I was definitely not drunk enough to be bowling, but I shocked everyone by making a big comeback in the final game. Mr. No Name did manage to tell me, in English, that I had a very high score.
I think Mr. Wan likes Mike too, because he invited him along next weekend to Hongdae to meet his friend.
At dinner there was a discussion about how age is important in Korea. I told Mr. Wan to stop giving Mike ideas, as he is two years older than me. Mr. Wan told him he should make me respect him, and Mike informed him that he was on his own there. Then Mr. Wan asked if we liked nightclubs and said he'd like to see me dance. I told him it would never happen.
Found out Mr. No Name lives here in Incheon. I'm going to make him get coffee with me at some point so he has to talk, since he doesn't have a hellish commute home every night. He doesn't smoke though, and did a bit of a double take when he saw I was smoking on the street right along side Mr. Wan and Mike.
Look out, everyone. There's a forward American female on the loose.
I think Mr. Wan likes Mike too, because he invited him along next weekend to Hongdae to meet his friend.
At dinner there was a discussion about how age is important in Korea. I told Mr. Wan to stop giving Mike ideas, as he is two years older than me. Mr. Wan told him he should make me respect him, and Mike informed him that he was on his own there. Then Mr. Wan asked if we liked nightclubs and said he'd like to see me dance. I told him it would never happen.
Found out Mr. No Name lives here in Incheon. I'm going to make him get coffee with me at some point so he has to talk, since he doesn't have a hellish commute home every night. He doesn't smoke though, and did a bit of a double take when he saw I was smoking on the street right along side Mr. Wan and Mike.
Look out, everyone. There's a forward American female on the loose.
HEATHENS!
AISH!
I love them, but I could absolutely bury each and every last one of them today. Without shedding a single tear.
My last class my coteacher didn't even show up. Which would have been fine, if this wasn't National Let's Trample the Teacher and Ruin Her Life Day.
I ended up just giving up on, "How much is it?" and teaching them that ol' XYZ (examine your zipper) trick from elementary school instead. Then I set them loose to begin their reign of terror in the hallways five minutes before the bell.
Bring on the beer. For FUCK sake, bring on the beer.
I do, however, like this drawing a student did on the table.
AISH!
I love them, but I could absolutely bury each and every last one of them today. Without shedding a single tear.
My last class my coteacher didn't even show up. Which would have been fine, if this wasn't National Let's Trample the Teacher and Ruin Her Life Day.
I ended up just giving up on, "How much is it?" and teaching them that ol' XYZ (examine your zipper) trick from elementary school instead. Then I set them loose to begin their reign of terror in the hallways five minutes before the bell.
Bring on the beer. For FUCK sake, bring on the beer.
I do, however, like this drawing a student did on the table.
I haven't had one single cigarette today. Fuck sake. I'm hacking my face off as a result -- any smoker who has gone without a cigarette for more than 24 hours will tell you there is some bizarre dimension shift where you actually start coughing because you haven't smoked....
The boys are being absolute animals today because of the holiday yesterday I think. They're doing okay in class -- no serious problems, just won't shut the fuck up. But the hallway is like a fucking deathmatch today. I've already had to say twice, "Please get off of his face." My poor mothers came in looking as though they'd just walked through a tornado.
Still two more today. I do have this cartoon version of things in my head where class 205 ignores my seventyfifth shout of, "Hey, guys!" and I just sit down at my desk and light up a big fat Marlboro, while saying, "Fuck it..." into my provided (and never before used) microphone.
If only.
The boys are being absolute animals today because of the holiday yesterday I think. They're doing okay in class -- no serious problems, just won't shut the fuck up. But the hallway is like a fucking deathmatch today. I've already had to say twice, "Please get off of his face." My poor mothers came in looking as though they'd just walked through a tornado.
Still two more today. I do have this cartoon version of things in my head where class 205 ignores my seventyfifth shout of, "Hey, guys!" and I just sit down at my desk and light up a big fat Marlboro, while saying, "Fuck it..." into my provided (and never before used) microphone.
If only.
11.13.2008
Surprise day off.
Today is National Exam Day for the high school students here. Coteacher told me I wouldn't have any classes, but if I didn't come into work, it would be taken out of my vacation days. So I went, at regular time, and I was the first one there besides one teacher. Another showed up shortly after, and they had a big discussion in Korean about whether or not I knew it was a holiday. Eventually one tried to tell me in English, and I told her I knew, and the other came up with the phrase "S.A.T" to explain.
And now I'll address all this nonsense on the expat forums about how domineering and gruff all older Korean men are. I'm not going to lie -- my principal scares the shit out of me. He walks and speaks like a man with authority. But he likes me, and is kind and gentle when he speaks to me. Today when he came in and I stood with the other two teachers, he laughed and told me I could sit in Korean. Then, when the vice principal came in, he asked the other two teachers in Korean what I was doing there. When they explained that I knew it was a holiday, he came over to my little cubicle. "Lizuh. Anytime, you go home."
"Really?"
"Yes. You go home, anytime."
"Okay."
He laughed and mimicked me: "Okay!"
Then he gave me a biscuit and two oranges.
Now, Fake Coteacher exhibits all of the stereotypical traits the other expats go on and on about -- that's for sure. When we went to have dinner with all the English teachers, my "welcome party", he sat down at the table across from the VP and swatted me really hard on the thigh, said something in Korean and gestured toward the middle of the table. The man knows I don't speak a lick of Korean and at that point couldn't even understand simple phrases to even attempt to figure out what he was telling me to do.
Now, I know that, as the youngest at the table, I was meant to be serving everyone, but I had never had a traditional Korean meal before and had no fucking clue the soup was to come first, and I should be dishing it out. Mr. Wan rolled his eyes (at Fake Coteacher, not me) and started serving the soup himself. But I've seen that kind of behavior a million times out of American men as well. It might be more pronounced and formalized because of Korean customs, which are generally more prevalent (at least from an outsider's point of view) than in America, but that nasty I'm-a-man-respect-me-goddamnit attitude is nothing new to me. And I have not seen a drop of it from the men who actually have the authority to treat me that way. The truth is, Fake Coteacher is a lousy teacher who no one respects and has probably got a chip on his shoulder because he's nearly the same age as the VP and principal, yet is stuck lolling around with us lowly English teachers instead. Now he needs to make up for it by giving me a fucking bruise on my thigh and hitting the boys with his stick. That, as far as I can tell, is something that extends across cultural boundaries.
Anyway, I have the day off and am home now. I will spend it giving my apartment a much-needed proper scrubdown and listening to music. A few midmorning photos of the neighborhood, then:
And now I'll address all this nonsense on the expat forums about how domineering and gruff all older Korean men are. I'm not going to lie -- my principal scares the shit out of me. He walks and speaks like a man with authority. But he likes me, and is kind and gentle when he speaks to me. Today when he came in and I stood with the other two teachers, he laughed and told me I could sit in Korean. Then, when the vice principal came in, he asked the other two teachers in Korean what I was doing there. When they explained that I knew it was a holiday, he came over to my little cubicle. "Lizuh. Anytime, you go home."
"Really?"
"Yes. You go home, anytime."
"Okay."
He laughed and mimicked me: "Okay!"
Then he gave me a biscuit and two oranges.
Now, Fake Coteacher exhibits all of the stereotypical traits the other expats go on and on about -- that's for sure. When we went to have dinner with all the English teachers, my "welcome party", he sat down at the table across from the VP and swatted me really hard on the thigh, said something in Korean and gestured toward the middle of the table. The man knows I don't speak a lick of Korean and at that point couldn't even understand simple phrases to even attempt to figure out what he was telling me to do.
Now, I know that, as the youngest at the table, I was meant to be serving everyone, but I had never had a traditional Korean meal before and had no fucking clue the soup was to come first, and I should be dishing it out. Mr. Wan rolled his eyes (at Fake Coteacher, not me) and started serving the soup himself. But I've seen that kind of behavior a million times out of American men as well. It might be more pronounced and formalized because of Korean customs, which are generally more prevalent (at least from an outsider's point of view) than in America, but that nasty I'm-a-man-respect-me-goddamnit attitude is nothing new to me. And I have not seen a drop of it from the men who actually have the authority to treat me that way. The truth is, Fake Coteacher is a lousy teacher who no one respects and has probably got a chip on his shoulder because he's nearly the same age as the VP and principal, yet is stuck lolling around with us lowly English teachers instead. Now he needs to make up for it by giving me a fucking bruise on my thigh and hitting the boys with his stick. That, as far as I can tell, is something that extends across cultural boundaries.
Anyway, I have the day off and am home now. I will spend it giving my apartment a much-needed proper scrubdown and listening to music. A few midmorning photos of the neighborhood, then:
11.12.2008
Young adults to modernize.
Today I added to my arsenal of teacher's secret weapons, when I discovered that calling on students who are talking while I'm writing on the board and trying to explain something to stand and read what I've just written on the board horrifies absolutely everyone in the classroom, including the coteacher. In this particular case, it was my least favorite coteacher, Fake Coteacher aka Mr. Kim. Even though he had hit four students rather hard in the head with his stick for coming in late, he was so uncomfortable when the offending parties stuttered in front of the entire room, that he tried to feed them the pronunciation, whilst I just stood and stared at them. "You don't know how to say this?" I asked, after both were unsuccessful. "Then you should probably listen, don't you think?" I didn't have to shout, "Hey!" or "Quiet!" one more single time during the entire period.
Also, the four boys who got whacked on the head got a rather conspicuous little head rub from me when I walked over to give them their worksheets right in front of Fake Coteacher. I don't care if he is the oldest teacher and male -- I don't like the hitting. Especially since they seemed to be rather quiet, well-behaved boys. And they were smaller as well. I found out one of them can't read the Roman alphabet, and had his friend explain to him that I'm currently trying to learn Korean and it's very hard for me, that he should keep trying -- he'll get it eventually.
The downside of the boys getting more comfortable is that I find I'm not as efficient in making the rounds during exercises now. They start off-topic conversations, which I don't feel too bad about, since they are still speaking English, which is what we are there for after all. But my last few classes have lagged a little behind. The tattoo on my forearm is still their favorite topic. I'm also starting to understand some of what they say to me in Korean, which pleases them no end.
I've made a conscious effort this week to walk around and talk to the boys before class starts as they are coming in and while we are waiting for the coteacher to show up. There are still a few who just turn bright red and put their heads down when I walk over, but they are decidedly the minority now, rather than the majority.
The one thing I really miss from New York is being able to spend a lot of one-on-one time explaining things. I know there are a lot of students who are slipping through my fingers, and that bothers me, but there's little you can do about it in a class of forty.
Anyway, I really like my job. And since it's the center of my world at the moment, this is a very good thing. If I was just working in an office somewhere, I think I'd probably be pretty miserable right now. The students have really made all the difference so far.
Also, the four boys who got whacked on the head got a rather conspicuous little head rub from me when I walked over to give them their worksheets right in front of Fake Coteacher. I don't care if he is the oldest teacher and male -- I don't like the hitting. Especially since they seemed to be rather quiet, well-behaved boys. And they were smaller as well. I found out one of them can't read the Roman alphabet, and had his friend explain to him that I'm currently trying to learn Korean and it's very hard for me, that he should keep trying -- he'll get it eventually.
The downside of the boys getting more comfortable is that I find I'm not as efficient in making the rounds during exercises now. They start off-topic conversations, which I don't feel too bad about, since they are still speaking English, which is what we are there for after all. But my last few classes have lagged a little behind. The tattoo on my forearm is still their favorite topic. I'm also starting to understand some of what they say to me in Korean, which pleases them no end.
I've made a conscious effort this week to walk around and talk to the boys before class starts as they are coming in and while we are waiting for the coteacher to show up. There are still a few who just turn bright red and put their heads down when I walk over, but they are decidedly the minority now, rather than the majority.
The one thing I really miss from New York is being able to spend a lot of one-on-one time explaining things. I know there are a lot of students who are slipping through my fingers, and that bothers me, but there's little you can do about it in a class of forty.
Anyway, I really like my job. And since it's the center of my world at the moment, this is a very good thing. If I was just working in an office somewhere, I think I'd probably be pretty miserable right now. The students have really made all the difference so far.
11.10.2008
A satisfied mind.
So I think this weekend I hit some sort of I'm-taking-my-ball-and-going-home barrier. Just didn't want to deal with the staring and the humiliating myself anytime I want to buy/eat anything, and I felt like absolute shit. After hiding inside yesterday, when Mike even came over and brought me cigarettes so I didn't even have to go for that, and sleeping a ton, I feel a lot better. I told Coteacher that after this weekend I was happy to be back at work, and then surprised myself later by meaning it.
The boys are starting to open up more in class, as I'm getting more assertive and starting to shut them up/address the slapping each other in the face/retrieve stolen sandals all myself instead of relying on the Korean coteachers to do it for me. The big scandal of today was when I pulled two boys out from the table by the back of their chairs simultaneously to retrieve a stolen pencil case. Very strong teacher. Yes, you're right. I've even found that making the boys read their answers aloud in class isn't such a bad idea after all, as long as you go after the ones that are raising hell during the lesson. And the funny thing is, the Korean coteachers have even picked up on this move and started using it themselves instead of arms raising or kneeling for prolonged periods of time. I'm quite proud. My voice is a bit raw after shouting, "HEY!" at ear-splitting volume at least once in every class. The looks on their little faces were priceless, but I didn't have to do it more than once or twice. It feels good not to have to look to my coteacher to wrangle them into their seats so I can explain the difference between, "What do you want to be?" and "What do you want to do?"
There was a confusing display at lunch, however, as I'm still trying to navigate the social waters. It's not that Koreans have such a mystifying way of interacting, so much as I can't understand what's being said and I have no interpretation of tone and the body language is different, so it's not as easy for me to pick up on the nuances of a situation. Basically, Mr. K and Mr. L came down to meet me in the hall for lunch, and Mr. K waved us on to the cafeteria before Mr. No Name arrived -- usually we wait for everyone. When we got there, instead of taking one of the end tables with four seats, Mr. K chose three chairs at the end of a full table. When Mr. No Name arrived two minutes later, he had to take a seat at an empty table by himself. Mr. K didn't even look up, but Mr. L gestured to me that we should move to sit with him, and so I did. Mr. K didn't move -- he finished his lunch alone and left without saying goodbye. I'm not sure what that's about, but I hope whatever it is is worked out soon, because I'm supposed to go out with both of them on Wednesday. Mr. L seemed confused as well, so at least I'm not alone.
The boys are starting to open up more in class, as I'm getting more assertive and starting to shut them up/address the slapping each other in the face/retrieve stolen sandals all myself instead of relying on the Korean coteachers to do it for me. The big scandal of today was when I pulled two boys out from the table by the back of their chairs simultaneously to retrieve a stolen pencil case. Very strong teacher. Yes, you're right. I've even found that making the boys read their answers aloud in class isn't such a bad idea after all, as long as you go after the ones that are raising hell during the lesson. And the funny thing is, the Korean coteachers have even picked up on this move and started using it themselves instead of arms raising or kneeling for prolonged periods of time. I'm quite proud. My voice is a bit raw after shouting, "HEY!" at ear-splitting volume at least once in every class. The looks on their little faces were priceless, but I didn't have to do it more than once or twice. It feels good not to have to look to my coteacher to wrangle them into their seats so I can explain the difference between, "What do you want to be?" and "What do you want to do?"
There was a confusing display at lunch, however, as I'm still trying to navigate the social waters. It's not that Koreans have such a mystifying way of interacting, so much as I can't understand what's being said and I have no interpretation of tone and the body language is different, so it's not as easy for me to pick up on the nuances of a situation. Basically, Mr. K and Mr. L came down to meet me in the hall for lunch, and Mr. K waved us on to the cafeteria before Mr. No Name arrived -- usually we wait for everyone. When we got there, instead of taking one of the end tables with four seats, Mr. K chose three chairs at the end of a full table. When Mr. No Name arrived two minutes later, he had to take a seat at an empty table by himself. Mr. K didn't even look up, but Mr. L gestured to me that we should move to sit with him, and so I did. Mr. K didn't move -- he finished his lunch alone and left without saying goodbye. I'm not sure what that's about, but I hope whatever it is is worked out soon, because I'm supposed to go out with both of them on Wednesday. Mr. L seemed confused as well, so at least I'm not alone.
11.09.2008
Just woke up.
This is the latest/most I've slept in absolute ages. I didn't think it was possible for me to sleep past 8:30 anymore. Suffice it to say that Mike and I didn't make it to the wedding, and me and South Korea aren't having a great weekend together. But it's okay. It's just a weekend.
Today I'm going to hide in bed and cuddle my laptop while it's playing clips of Dylan Moran. Or something.
This is the latest/most I've slept in absolute ages. I didn't think it was possible for me to sleep past 8:30 anymore. Suffice it to say that Mike and I didn't make it to the wedding, and me and South Korea aren't having a great weekend together. But it's okay. It's just a weekend.
Today I'm going to hide in bed and cuddle my laptop while it's playing clips of Dylan Moran. Or something.
11.08.2008
Dogs don't like kimchi.
I'll call him Rocco. He strikes me as a Rocco.
Anyway, I found him on my way home from the subway tonight. He was foraging for food and acting generally terrified. I clicked my tongue a few times and he came over and said hello and then followed me all the way back to my apartment and up the 8 flights of stairs, straight into the door.
Unfortunately, there isn't much food in my apartment fit for a doggy appetite at the moment. He didn't want any of my kimchi, and he only ate a little bit of an apple and a few nuts. But he drank some good, clean non-street water and sat in my lap for a little bit. He was in full-on foraging mode though -- clearly a dog who's been at this street thing for a while -- so I let him back out into the stairwell so he can go try to find something better than what I have. Wish I could keep him and feed him all kinds of lovely things, but there's no way I could handle a dog right now.
My only regret is not buying a sandwich on my way home so I would have had something decent to feed him.
11.07.2008
Heading back to Goose Goose in Bupyeong tonight. Got fucked hard by four classes in a row this morning, and a fifth in the afternoon, but shockingly they all went really well. My official coteacher got to see me teach for the first time, and I was pretty nervous about that, but the class was well behaved, thank God, and she said I did an excellent job. I don't think "excellent" factors into anything yet, but it's a hell of a lot better than where I was just a week ago.
In my parents' class, we talked about American names, how they have implications, and all of the mothers decided to take one. Jennifer (Jenny), Rachel, Diana and I forget the fourth one because I'm an idiot. They told me about their names and how they had Chinese character equivalents. One's name means Gold White Dot and another means Tiny Water Flower.
I upset one of my first graders by writing the word "trouble" on his paper after he threw another kid's pen out the window and then told me he was very hot and started taking his shirt off when I came over to close it. "Trouble?" The boys at the table asked what it meant. I pointed to the window kid, and said, "Him." He pouted for the rest of the period. I asked him if he would forgive me, and he said no.
I also caught a table of second graders working on a group project that consisted of a not very flattering portrait of my coteacher. Hey, what the hell. I'm just glad they weren't drawing me.
A couple of photos, since it is my favorite season:
Blurry walk to school this morning.
The mountain out a fourth floor school window.
In my parents' class, we talked about American names, how they have implications, and all of the mothers decided to take one. Jennifer (Jenny), Rachel, Diana and I forget the fourth one because I'm an idiot. They told me about their names and how they had Chinese character equivalents. One's name means Gold White Dot and another means Tiny Water Flower.
I upset one of my first graders by writing the word "trouble" on his paper after he threw another kid's pen out the window and then told me he was very hot and started taking his shirt off when I came over to close it. "Trouble?" The boys at the table asked what it meant. I pointed to the window kid, and said, "Him." He pouted for the rest of the period. I asked him if he would forgive me, and he said no.
I also caught a table of second graders working on a group project that consisted of a not very flattering portrait of my coteacher. Hey, what the hell. I'm just glad they weren't drawing me.
A couple of photos, since it is my favorite season:
Blurry walk to school this morning.
The mountain out a fourth floor school window.
11.06.2008
Korean coworkers are like grandmothers. At least mine are. They are constantly fussing over me and giving me all kinds of food and other goodies that I don't necessarily know what to do with. Today I walked home with a fucking VAT of kimchi that won't fit in my tiny fridge that someone in the administration office had the cafeteria workers prepare just for me. It's wrapped in a big red ribbon and everything. But I don't know what to do with it....
There's another big cellphone video of a Korean student being beat by a teacher scandal going on over here. I've not seen anything that extreme at my school yet, but there have been a few swats to the head and headlocks I've not felt too comfortable with. The thing is, I'm not going to get all self-righteous and bent out of shape about corporal punishment -- my parents saw it as a completely valid way of disciplining me while I was growing up, but I will say that, across the board in any kind of relationship, I think that if you have to hit someone to maintain their respect, you should probably reevaluate how worthy you are of their respect in the first place. I've found that the best way to get the boys to straighten up and fly right is just to get the other boys' attention and make fun of them a little bit. They get embarrassed and stop horsing around, but they don't go into super defiant sulk mode like they do when the other teachers take a swing at their heads.
That's not to say that I haven't yet had the urge to hit one of the little fuckers. But in my opinion, that's what makes me an adult and them children -- I can control my urges.
Today's first period was a nightmare. Small Coteacher had to have the boys do the hands-on-the-head-eyes-closed-prolonged-lecture thing. The thing is, when I feel in control of my class and the material, they behave much better. Today I was teaching a new lesson for the first time, a bit nervous, and I think the class could sense that. They used it to their full advantage. You take one hesitant pause to check your notes on where you're going next, and the whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket. But every week it gets a little bit better, as my confidence grows. There's usually always one kid, too, who will be entirely unamused by the class's antics and tell them all what I imagine is Korean for, "Shut the fuck up." Which I really appreciate.
I have one student who lived in South Africa for seven years, and therefore speaks almost fluent English. He didn't think I remembered that Mr. K had told me that. I was walking around checking exercises, and while most of the class was still trying to figure out what page we were on, he had already finished his. "It's too easy for you, I know. I'm sorry," I told him.
"How do you know it's too easy for me?"
"Because you lived in South Africa for seven years. You didn't think I remembered?"
He smiled. I paid him back by making him read his exercise in front of the class. He didn't want to, but I said, "Please help me?" I tried to make it up to him by telling the class he had a very lovely accent when he had finished, and all the other boys protested that it wasn't fair. It was really nice, anyway, to actually be able to communicate with a student for once.
There's another big cellphone video of a Korean student being beat by a teacher scandal going on over here. I've not seen anything that extreme at my school yet, but there have been a few swats to the head and headlocks I've not felt too comfortable with. The thing is, I'm not going to get all self-righteous and bent out of shape about corporal punishment -- my parents saw it as a completely valid way of disciplining me while I was growing up, but I will say that, across the board in any kind of relationship, I think that if you have to hit someone to maintain their respect, you should probably reevaluate how worthy you are of their respect in the first place. I've found that the best way to get the boys to straighten up and fly right is just to get the other boys' attention and make fun of them a little bit. They get embarrassed and stop horsing around, but they don't go into super defiant sulk mode like they do when the other teachers take a swing at their heads.
That's not to say that I haven't yet had the urge to hit one of the little fuckers. But in my opinion, that's what makes me an adult and them children -- I can control my urges.
Today's first period was a nightmare. Small Coteacher had to have the boys do the hands-on-the-head-eyes-closed-prolonged-lecture thing. The thing is, when I feel in control of my class and the material, they behave much better. Today I was teaching a new lesson for the first time, a bit nervous, and I think the class could sense that. They used it to their full advantage. You take one hesitant pause to check your notes on where you're going next, and the whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket. But every week it gets a little bit better, as my confidence grows. There's usually always one kid, too, who will be entirely unamused by the class's antics and tell them all what I imagine is Korean for, "Shut the fuck up." Which I really appreciate.
I have one student who lived in South Africa for seven years, and therefore speaks almost fluent English. He didn't think I remembered that Mr. K had told me that. I was walking around checking exercises, and while most of the class was still trying to figure out what page we were on, he had already finished his. "It's too easy for you, I know. I'm sorry," I told him.
"How do you know it's too easy for me?"
"Because you lived in South Africa for seven years. You didn't think I remembered?"
He smiled. I paid him back by making him read his exercise in front of the class. He didn't want to, but I said, "Please help me?" I tried to make it up to him by telling the class he had a very lovely accent when he had finished, and all the other boys protested that it wasn't fair. It was really nice, anyway, to actually be able to communicate with a student for once.
11.04.2008
This blogging at work thing is hit or miss, so I'll just take this chance now to say a big Happy Birthday to the lovely Miss Iva today, and in two days, the equally aesthetically (and in many other ways) pleasing Mr. Sawyer.
Tomorrow I get a bank account and internet at home. Oh boy. I know you just can't wait.
Maybe then I'll write about things besides school, because I won't always be at school when I'm writing.
Try to calm yourselves.
In the meantime, the third graders are coming in the morning now too. Apparently the game is called foot baseball, even though it's really just soccer with a baseball, and doesn't resemble baseball in any other way. I asked My Friend where his pants were and he said, "Physical education."
"Always?"
"Always...?"
"You never have pants on."
Apparently this is a sensitive issue within the group because I seemed to hit on something massively funny.
"Always physical education. I'm very strong boy."
Good enough for me.
Now, back to the madness.
Tomorrow I get a bank account and internet at home. Oh boy. I know you just can't wait.
Maybe then I'll write about things besides school, because I won't always be at school when I'm writing.
Try to calm yourselves.
In the meantime, the third graders are coming in the morning now too. Apparently the game is called foot baseball, even though it's really just soccer with a baseball, and doesn't resemble baseball in any other way. I asked My Friend where his pants were and he said, "Physical education."
"Always?"
"Always...?"
"You never have pants on."
Apparently this is a sensitive issue within the group because I seemed to hit on something massively funny.
"Always physical education. I'm very strong boy."
Good enough for me.
Now, back to the madness.
11.03.2008
It started with one kid.
It started with one kid with the most fucking intense violet eyes I have ever seen. This kid is never wearing pants. Ever. He's always in his gym shorts. He decided to come in during the cleaning period one day and introduce himself. He's a third (ninth) grader.
"I am handsome boy?"
"Yes. Very handsome."
"Oh, thank you. You are very beautiful."
"Thank you."
Then he left and came back shortly with a gaggle of his friends. He lined them all up in front of my classroom door.
"My name?"
"Sorry?"
"You know my name?"
"Sorry, I don't know your name."
Kid falls to his knees in mock agony as all the other boys scream.
The next day he came back to say hello, and I said, "Ah, my friend."
"My friend?!?"
"Yeah, my friend."
"Oh!"
He ran out the door and came back with the gaggle of friends again.
"Say again."
"Say what?"
"Say it! You know. My friend!"
"My friend?"
"Yes me! I am my friend!"
"Oh yeah. My friend."
Now there's a whole load of them -- about 20 -- who come to my classroom every day during the cleaning period and between the afternoon periods. Sometimes they ask for help with their English. Sometimes they just stand there looking lost. Sometimes they make little hearts with their hands. They play an ongoing game of soccer with a baseball outside in the hall, which I should probably try to stop, but I don't.
I guess I don't get to teach third graders because they are busy preparing for high school, and English conversation is still not a testable subject. But they're around anyway, more of them everyday.
Also, I was told today that I'm letting the boys be too loud. Not in the general pandemonium sense, but in the sense that I've found the best way to work on their pronunciation and keep them interested is to drill them like they're in the army. They aren't just screaming -- they're shouting the words after me in unison. And yes, they're loud. But they're entertained and they're practicing. And there's no one else on this entire floor during most of the day. So what? So they're getting into it.
Pfffffffft. Let 'em be loud.
"I am handsome boy?"
"Yes. Very handsome."
"Oh, thank you. You are very beautiful."
"Thank you."
Then he left and came back shortly with a gaggle of his friends. He lined them all up in front of my classroom door.
"My name?"
"Sorry?"
"You know my name?"
"Sorry, I don't know your name."
Kid falls to his knees in mock agony as all the other boys scream.
The next day he came back to say hello, and I said, "Ah, my friend."
"My friend?!?"
"Yeah, my friend."
"Oh!"
He ran out the door and came back with the gaggle of friends again.
"Say again."
"Say what?"
"Say it! You know. My friend!"
"My friend?"
"Yes me! I am my friend!"
"Oh yeah. My friend."
Now there's a whole load of them -- about 20 -- who come to my classroom every day during the cleaning period and between the afternoon periods. Sometimes they ask for help with their English. Sometimes they just stand there looking lost. Sometimes they make little hearts with their hands. They play an ongoing game of soccer with a baseball outside in the hall, which I should probably try to stop, but I don't.
I guess I don't get to teach third graders because they are busy preparing for high school, and English conversation is still not a testable subject. But they're around anyway, more of them everyday.
Also, I was told today that I'm letting the boys be too loud. Not in the general pandemonium sense, but in the sense that I've found the best way to work on their pronunciation and keep them interested is to drill them like they're in the army. They aren't just screaming -- they're shouting the words after me in unison. And yes, they're loud. But they're entertained and they're practicing. And there's no one else on this entire floor during most of the day. So what? So they're getting into it.
Pfffffffft. Let 'em be loud.
I'm with Mags.
My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time;
they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and
disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away.
Or again at something after it has given me up. It makes me
restless and that makes me unhappy, but I cannot keep them
still. If only I had grey, green, black, brown, yellow eyes; I
would stay home and do something. It's not that I'm
curious. On the contrary, I am bored but it's my duty to be
attentive, I am needed by things as the sky must be above the
earth. And lately, so great has their anxiety become, I can
spare myself little sleep.
-- Frank O'Hara, from "Meditations in an Emergency"
they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and
disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away.
Or again at something after it has given me up. It makes me
restless and that makes me unhappy, but I cannot keep them
still. If only I had grey, green, black, brown, yellow eyes; I
would stay home and do something. It's not that I'm
curious. On the contrary, I am bored but it's my duty to be
attentive, I am needed by things as the sky must be above the
earth. And lately, so great has their anxiety become, I can
spare myself little sleep.
-- Frank O'Hara, from "Meditations in an Emergency"
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