Just a few newsy type things.
First, if you're in Korea, there's this. A fellow ESL teacher ran into some health problems, is uninsured and possibly going to be kicked out of the hospital if he doesn't come up with 10 mil Won and fast. One of the more reliable expats in the community has vouched for the guy and the situation, whatever that may mean to you. Do I think the guy was teaching illegally on a tourist visa? Probably. But it is possible he was honestly looking for a job. Should he have bought traveler's insurance? Yes, definitely. However, we all make mistakes. If you're in the ROK, you know how simple it is to make a bank transfer. Give it some thought. No one deserves to lose their life, or limb, because of a few poor decisions, even if that was the case, in my humble opinion.
Sometimes we run into situations, as foreigners, that (for the most part) only other foreigners are willing to help us out with. We may be an odd and shattered community, but we are still a community. We're all far from our families and loved ones, and most of the people who feel any true allegiance to us. We should take care of one another, when we have the chance. No questions asked.
Secondly, thanks to Roboseyo for this. I understand that there is a legitimate risk among recently arriving foreigners for the pig flu, but for those of us who have been here for some time and just happen to be foreigners, who also love and spend time with other foreigners, it's fucking offensive. And, quite frankly, ignorant. I'm far more likely to get the flu from one of my grubby little (Korean) students than I am from my foreign friends. Thank the Universe the Herald finally decided to publish something that doesn't make me want to cry.
And last, but certainly not least, there's this. Discussing this over dinner tonight, I told Mike that I don't think it's possible to apply percentages of likelihood to this situation. However, I don't think the nature of someone in a situation where there is nothing to lose should be dealt with lightly. I also don't like that my baby brother is on a military ship somewhere between Singapore and Japan at the moment. But hey, that's life. Prayers and positive energy. Let's hope this situation can be resolved peacefully, for the sake of the citizens of both North and South Korea (and those of us here, on the fringes). And especially for the sake of those young men who, due to no free will of their own, will be forced to fight this war, if it comes to it -- those, in particular, are dear to my heart, given that I currently teach the upcoming generation of this group.
5.30.2009
5.29.2009
How Korean are my Thursday nights, now? That's right, bitches. There's now kimchi in my apartuh.
Today I got hit in the face with a baseball, used my mad Korean listening skills to prevent a fight at the very last minute, and saw a knife-wielding student threaten to stab both teachers and students. The nightmare class was only half disaster. The badass kid has decidedly come around this time -- we're friends now, truly. And he's going to make it through and so am I. The half disaster was my fault this time, but I'll fix it next time.
Tomorrow, I see the lovely C again, and Garfield and H and J. And now, I'm off to meet Mike for wangalbi and moderate portions of soju. It's the weekend now Liz -- forget it all! I'll keep Coteacher's advice in mind....
5.28.2009
Some miscommunication.
Attention PS teachers in SK: Apparently, we're not allowed to leave the country.
Or, if we leave the country, we can't come back.
Or, if we leave the country, we have to let the education office know.
Or, we're not allowed to leave the country.
So goes the process of trying to get actual information out of a Korean bureaucratic institution. We're saying no, but we don't know how to say no, so we'll say no, maybe, yes and then no. You're not Korean. You don't understand that when you hear no, you're not supposed to ask anymore questions. Don't make us say no twice. You will only end up completely confused as to what the fuck is actually going on.
C and I just had this conversation last night: He said he couldn't believe I was a shy person, because I seem confident and comfortable and I am not afraid to express my opinions. I said the first two were well-perfected acting skills, and that his third reason simply puzzled me. He said most Koreans who are "shy" will not express their opinions, especially when they conflict with others. I explained that, even if I am feeling particularly uncomfortable and nervous at a social gathering, if the conversation takes a turn toward something I feel strongly about, particularly from the opposite point of view, I will have no choice but to speak up. Being shy and being afraid to express your opinions are not the same thing to me. I may sit in total silence for the entire duration of an evening, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, speak a singular strongly worded sentence in a clear, loud voice. If I have to.
Such was the case with this announcement at the meeting. I don't make a scene of myself at these events, but as soon as this subject came up, and it became clear what they were telling, or trying to tell, us, my hand shot straight up. What about Korean teachers?
Apparently they're under the travel ban (which is not a travel ban, but a request that you don't have the choice of not granting) as well.
It's the swine flu, of course.
When discussing my confusion about how forbidden we actually are to travel abroad with Coteacher after, she said simply, "It's a nice way of saying 'no'".
Well. Maybe someone should explain to your representatives to native teachers that in English, in English speaking cultures, the polite way of saying 'no' is to say, "I'm sorry, but no." Not, "Well, maybe...."
Of course, we're not pleased with this. We can only take our contracted 14 days vacation time during two months out of the year -- one of those months is coming up in the middle of July. Nobody but nobody wants to go to fucking Jeju-do on their vacation. I tried, in the nicest way I could, to explain to Coteacher what a riot the education office is going to have on their hands -- "When we feel like we're being told we cannot do something that we feel we have the inalienable right to do, we get quite upset, regardless of circumstance."
She said Koreans are the same. And then proceeded to explain how the Korean teachers had already forfeited their winter vacations abroad, because, as civil servants, they should be thinking about the Korean economy.
I think we are having some miscommunication.
You may not have been happy about that. I understand that part with Koreans and Westerners is the same. The difference is that when Westerners are told to do something they think is unfair, generally they won't do it. Even if the boss tells them to.
It's another classic example of the SK educational system being held against the ropes by the native teachers. They already cannot allow the new batch of teachers, who are due in early June, into the country, many of whom I can imagine have just said, fuck it then, and started looking for work in other countries. I don't know if they realize that if they forbid the current native teachers to return to the country if they take their summer vacation, many will view that as a violation of contract (on the employer's part) and simply will not return.
Ugh.
In other news, nuclear bombs. Yay!
Or, if we leave the country, we can't come back.
Or, if we leave the country, we have to let the education office know.
Or, we're not allowed to leave the country.
So goes the process of trying to get actual information out of a Korean bureaucratic institution. We're saying no, but we don't know how to say no, so we'll say no, maybe, yes and then no. You're not Korean. You don't understand that when you hear no, you're not supposed to ask anymore questions. Don't make us say no twice. You will only end up completely confused as to what the fuck is actually going on.
C and I just had this conversation last night: He said he couldn't believe I was a shy person, because I seem confident and comfortable and I am not afraid to express my opinions. I said the first two were well-perfected acting skills, and that his third reason simply puzzled me. He said most Koreans who are "shy" will not express their opinions, especially when they conflict with others. I explained that, even if I am feeling particularly uncomfortable and nervous at a social gathering, if the conversation takes a turn toward something I feel strongly about, particularly from the opposite point of view, I will have no choice but to speak up. Being shy and being afraid to express your opinions are not the same thing to me. I may sit in total silence for the entire duration of an evening, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, speak a singular strongly worded sentence in a clear, loud voice. If I have to.
Such was the case with this announcement at the meeting. I don't make a scene of myself at these events, but as soon as this subject came up, and it became clear what they were telling, or trying to tell, us, my hand shot straight up. What about Korean teachers?
Apparently they're under the travel ban (which is not a travel ban, but a request that you don't have the choice of not granting) as well.
It's the swine flu, of course.
When discussing my confusion about how forbidden we actually are to travel abroad with Coteacher after, she said simply, "It's a nice way of saying 'no'".
Well. Maybe someone should explain to your representatives to native teachers that in English, in English speaking cultures, the polite way of saying 'no' is to say, "I'm sorry, but no." Not, "Well, maybe...."
Of course, we're not pleased with this. We can only take our contracted 14 days vacation time during two months out of the year -- one of those months is coming up in the middle of July. Nobody but nobody wants to go to fucking Jeju-do on their vacation. I tried, in the nicest way I could, to explain to Coteacher what a riot the education office is going to have on their hands -- "When we feel like we're being told we cannot do something that we feel we have the inalienable right to do, we get quite upset, regardless of circumstance."
She said Koreans are the same. And then proceeded to explain how the Korean teachers had already forfeited their winter vacations abroad, because, as civil servants, they should be thinking about the Korean economy.
I think we are having some miscommunication.
You may not have been happy about that. I understand that part with Koreans and Westerners is the same. The difference is that when Westerners are told to do something they think is unfair, generally they won't do it. Even if the boss tells them to.
It's another classic example of the SK educational system being held against the ropes by the native teachers. They already cannot allow the new batch of teachers, who are due in early June, into the country, many of whom I can imagine have just said, fuck it then, and started looking for work in other countries. I don't know if they realize that if they forbid the current native teachers to return to the country if they take their summer vacation, many will view that as a violation of contract (on the employer's part) and simply will not return.
Ugh.
In other news, nuclear bombs. Yay!
5.27.2009
Quarantine.
SK is now quarantining foreign English teachers coming into the country for a full week, before they're allowed out in public, thanks to the swine flu or whatever it's called now. Apparently, there have been a LOT of comments made to NETs all over the ROK who are already here, and have been here for some time. We should avoid hanging out with other foreigners, or going to neighborhoods like Itaewon and Hongdae, where foreigners hang out.
Lovely.
Now I understand why there were so many giggles in class last week when I taught the word "contagious".
Sigh. Another day in the life. Fighting!
Lovely.
Now I understand why there were so many giggles in class last week when I taught the word "contagious".
Sigh. Another day in the life. Fighting!
5.26.2009
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God.
Seven classes is not good for Teacher's soul. I had three more students crying today. Why? They ignored me when I told them to move from a back table to a front one.
It's okay, because they made me cry back. Not until the last one of them left office, of course. The second the door closed behind him, my face was in my hands. The difference this time was the "some meeting" with the other English teachers after work, one of whom had the main culprit in her homeroom class last year. "He's just mean. A mean student. And his mother thinks he's perfect. It's terrible. It's not you fault."
I finally, finally got a chance to vent about my frustrations with the after school classes, and feel like I was really being listened to. From now on, their behavior in my after school class will reflect on their English grade. Now I don't feel like I'm grasping at straws -- like I have to go to such extreme measures to keep things under control. The other teachers reminded me that they get disrespect from the students all the time -- that's why the office is always full. It's not just me who has bad classes, and who struggles to to remain in control sometimes. I am expecting too much. And I will learn as I go. And the most important thing is to remain calm, always.
Two of the three from today were apparently drawn into some sort of misbehavior pact by the third, the one who came with me to the office on Friday. He just won't let this thing die. I had a chance to really talk to those students and I think I will never see an ounce of trouble out of them again. One, I nicknamed Comedian when he was disrupting class with his jokes before. Today, after being screamed at by a Korean teacher on my behalf, he struggled for a few minutes and then managed to apologize in English, "from my heart". I put a finger under his chin and moved his tear-stained face upwards toward mine. "Hey. Funny guy, right? Comedian?"
He gave a little laugh. "Neh."
"I like you. I don't want to fight. I believe it is from your heart. So we won't fight anymore, right?"
He smiled. "Neh, Seonsaengnim."
The other one had to stop and start three times with his apology because he couldn't stop crying. Finally, the best English I've heard out of a student yet (after consulting with Coteacher in Korean about how to say what he wanted to): "First of all, I want to say that I am so sorry for my ignoring to you today. And, now every class... I want to.... best student. I will be best student.... for me... I will be best student I can be. For your class. Really, best student I can."
"Hey."
Coteacher told him in Korean that I was American and he should look at me when I'm talking, not down. He lifted his face. When he made eye contact, he immediately started crying again.
"Hey, hey. You are the best student. You are an excellent student. You are smart and you listen and you have respect. Do you understand? You are the best student."
Nearly sobbing at this point. "I don't think so, Teacher."
"I do. I know you are a good student. You know I know that, right? I know you think I don't know the students. I know you. You know that I know you are a good student, right?"
"Neh."
"That's why I worry when you sit at the table with Jong-min. If I have strong emotions, it's because I know you are an excellent student. I have strong emotions about that, about such an excellent student ignoring me. Do you understand?"
"Neh. I'm so sorry, Teacher."
To the infamous Jong-min, what could I say?
"Hey." He is forever unable to meet my eyes without fidgeting and squirming. There's something genuinely not right with this kid. And he hates being made to look shamed in front of me. "You. I know about you."
I found out last Friday that his homeroom teacher made him take the after school class, even though he really didn't want to in the first place. She used my class as a bargaining tool in the first place, telling him he could stop going once he made it to first rank in his homeroom class. Now, he has achieved that position. But she has decided that he should finish the term, anyway. He feels like a promise has been broken to him, and that's why, just when it seemed I had finally gotten him under control, he's suddenly started acting out again -- he's taking it out on me, and my class.
"Listen. I know. You are number one in your class now, right?"
His eyes gave a flicker of surprise and met mine for just a second. "N-neh...."
"So. You don't have to come anymore. You have to finish this term. Three more. Three more classes, right? Three."
"Neh."
"Three classes. Only three. You and me for just three more classes. They can be terrible or they can be okay. Let's just finish. We can do three more together, right?"
"Neh."
"Okay. So let's finish, together, and then it's over. No more trouble. No more time after school. No more office. Okay?"
"Neh."
I hope to God that actually sunk in. But this is not the kind of kid who listens to reason. As I explained to my co-teachers over coffee, this stopped being about the class a long time ago. From the second he walked in the door, I knew the kid had a chip on his shoulder -- I just didn't know it was about his homeroom teacher, and not me. He was never happy just sitting and quietly ignoring me -- he wanted to cause trouble, disrupt everything for everyone else. It started out being about his will versus his homeroom teacher's -- now, it has ended up being about his will versus mine. Today was about payback. I got the best of him last class, but he wasn't willing to let it end there. Today, he decided to drag two of his classmates down with him. I won't tolerate it. He will be isolated if decides to continue -- not me.
Calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected.
God, this job builds character. Or drives people to new levels of madness. I'm not sure which. But I have no choice but to endure. I'm going to try to stop focusing so much on this one class, which is easily becoming everything. Which is completely ludicrous.
Tomorrow, I'm meeting R (who will, from now on, be know as C, as I learned his Korean name) at the station because he wants to give me a copy of a movie. Don't ask me. I'm just going with it. Saturday will be my first Korean wedding, and then the meeting with the 'cultural exchange' group. Oh. And Thursday is another "business trip" -- another thing to worry over, since 'Gil' has apparently requested to accompany me for the afternoon, instead of Coteacher. Great.
Stress. Why is my life becoming so Korean? And how to so many foreign teachers consider this a vacation?
Seven classes is not good for Teacher's soul. I had three more students crying today. Why? They ignored me when I told them to move from a back table to a front one.
It's okay, because they made me cry back. Not until the last one of them left office, of course. The second the door closed behind him, my face was in my hands. The difference this time was the "some meeting" with the other English teachers after work, one of whom had the main culprit in her homeroom class last year. "He's just mean. A mean student. And his mother thinks he's perfect. It's terrible. It's not you fault."
I finally, finally got a chance to vent about my frustrations with the after school classes, and feel like I was really being listened to. From now on, their behavior in my after school class will reflect on their English grade. Now I don't feel like I'm grasping at straws -- like I have to go to such extreme measures to keep things under control. The other teachers reminded me that they get disrespect from the students all the time -- that's why the office is always full. It's not just me who has bad classes, and who struggles to to remain in control sometimes. I am expecting too much. And I will learn as I go. And the most important thing is to remain calm, always.
Two of the three from today were apparently drawn into some sort of misbehavior pact by the third, the one who came with me to the office on Friday. He just won't let this thing die. I had a chance to really talk to those students and I think I will never see an ounce of trouble out of them again. One, I nicknamed Comedian when he was disrupting class with his jokes before. Today, after being screamed at by a Korean teacher on my behalf, he struggled for a few minutes and then managed to apologize in English, "from my heart". I put a finger under his chin and moved his tear-stained face upwards toward mine. "Hey. Funny guy, right? Comedian?"
He gave a little laugh. "Neh."
"I like you. I don't want to fight. I believe it is from your heart. So we won't fight anymore, right?"
He smiled. "Neh, Seonsaengnim."
The other one had to stop and start three times with his apology because he couldn't stop crying. Finally, the best English I've heard out of a student yet (after consulting with Coteacher in Korean about how to say what he wanted to): "First of all, I want to say that I am so sorry for my ignoring to you today. And, now every class... I want to.... best student. I will be best student.... for me... I will be best student I can be. For your class. Really, best student I can."
"Hey."
Coteacher told him in Korean that I was American and he should look at me when I'm talking, not down. He lifted his face. When he made eye contact, he immediately started crying again.
"Hey, hey. You are the best student. You are an excellent student. You are smart and you listen and you have respect. Do you understand? You are the best student."
Nearly sobbing at this point. "I don't think so, Teacher."
"I do. I know you are a good student. You know I know that, right? I know you think I don't know the students. I know you. You know that I know you are a good student, right?"
"Neh."
"That's why I worry when you sit at the table with Jong-min. If I have strong emotions, it's because I know you are an excellent student. I have strong emotions about that, about such an excellent student ignoring me. Do you understand?"
"Neh. I'm so sorry, Teacher."
To the infamous Jong-min, what could I say?
"Hey." He is forever unable to meet my eyes without fidgeting and squirming. There's something genuinely not right with this kid. And he hates being made to look shamed in front of me. "You. I know about you."
I found out last Friday that his homeroom teacher made him take the after school class, even though he really didn't want to in the first place. She used my class as a bargaining tool in the first place, telling him he could stop going once he made it to first rank in his homeroom class. Now, he has achieved that position. But she has decided that he should finish the term, anyway. He feels like a promise has been broken to him, and that's why, just when it seemed I had finally gotten him under control, he's suddenly started acting out again -- he's taking it out on me, and my class.
"Listen. I know. You are number one in your class now, right?"
His eyes gave a flicker of surprise and met mine for just a second. "N-neh...."
"So. You don't have to come anymore. You have to finish this term. Three more. Three more classes, right? Three."
"Neh."
"Three classes. Only three. You and me for just three more classes. They can be terrible or they can be okay. Let's just finish. We can do three more together, right?"
"Neh."
"Okay. So let's finish, together, and then it's over. No more trouble. No more time after school. No more office. Okay?"
"Neh."
I hope to God that actually sunk in. But this is not the kind of kid who listens to reason. As I explained to my co-teachers over coffee, this stopped being about the class a long time ago. From the second he walked in the door, I knew the kid had a chip on his shoulder -- I just didn't know it was about his homeroom teacher, and not me. He was never happy just sitting and quietly ignoring me -- he wanted to cause trouble, disrupt everything for everyone else. It started out being about his will versus his homeroom teacher's -- now, it has ended up being about his will versus mine. Today was about payback. I got the best of him last class, but he wasn't willing to let it end there. Today, he decided to drag two of his classmates down with him. I won't tolerate it. He will be isolated if decides to continue -- not me.
Calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected.
God, this job builds character. Or drives people to new levels of madness. I'm not sure which. But I have no choice but to endure. I'm going to try to stop focusing so much on this one class, which is easily becoming everything. Which is completely ludicrous.
Tomorrow, I'm meeting R (who will, from now on, be know as C, as I learned his Korean name) at the station because he wants to give me a copy of a movie. Don't ask me. I'm just going with it. Saturday will be my first Korean wedding, and then the meeting with the 'cultural exchange' group. Oh. And Thursday is another "business trip" -- another thing to worry over, since 'Gil' has apparently requested to accompany me for the afternoon, instead of Coteacher. Great.
Stress. Why is my life becoming so Korean? And how to so many foreign teachers consider this a vacation?
5.25.2009
Teacher hot.
Teacher hot. Teacher .... hot. Teacher hot. That's very hot. Teacher HOT!
Do you know what is the only thing more blood boiling than having to teach in this heat? Having you half-people interrupt my lecture over and over again to tell me that it's hot. What, exactly, would you like me to do about it?
Teacher is having a beer. Actually, teacher is having three. They are in the freezer as we speak. They are not hot.
Today I told a student that Marlboro lights are for girls, and real men smoke reds. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for that. But it was only after they confronted me for the eighteenth time with, "TEACHER YOU HOMEPLUSUH SMOKING WE SEE!"
"Yes, yes, it's true. You know what? Teacher is a grownup. You are children. Teacher can smoke. Teacher can drink soju. Teacher is an adult. Ee-sheep-oh. Understand?"
"TEACHER DRINK SOJU!?!?!"
Ya. Be quiet and do your worksheet. Teacher wouldn't have to drink soju if you would stop spying on Teacher during the very little time Teacher has away from you. Teacher has to drink soju because you have taken over Teacher's life. Teacher has many stress. Teacher needs to take a rest. Teacher is going to put on an old pair of boxers and have ddeok and Cafri for dinner and then probably watch a terrible Korean drama and pass out at 8:30. Okay? Okay. Shee you tomorrow.
By the way, if anyone can explain how to make this sound 희 to me, I would be extremely grateful.
P.S. -- The student who fell from the fourth floor did not jump, and was not pushed. He was attempting to retrieve a paper, which had flown out the window and landed on a ledge. His balance wasn't as good as he had suspected. There is no permanent damage, and he is going to be just fine.
Do you know what is the only thing more blood boiling than having to teach in this heat? Having you half-people interrupt my lecture over and over again to tell me that it's hot. What, exactly, would you like me to do about it?
Teacher is having a beer. Actually, teacher is having three. They are in the freezer as we speak. They are not hot.
Today I told a student that Marlboro lights are for girls, and real men smoke reds. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for that. But it was only after they confronted me for the eighteenth time with, "TEACHER YOU HOMEPLUSUH SMOKING WE SEE!"
"Yes, yes, it's true. You know what? Teacher is a grownup. You are children. Teacher can smoke. Teacher can drink soju. Teacher is an adult. Ee-sheep-oh. Understand?"
"TEACHER DRINK SOJU!?!?!"
Ya. Be quiet and do your worksheet. Teacher wouldn't have to drink soju if you would stop spying on Teacher during the very little time Teacher has away from you. Teacher has to drink soju because you have taken over Teacher's life. Teacher has many stress. Teacher needs to take a rest. Teacher is going to put on an old pair of boxers and have ddeok and Cafri for dinner and then probably watch a terrible Korean drama and pass out at 8:30. Okay? Okay. Shee you tomorrow.
By the way, if anyone can explain how to make this sound 희 to me, I would be extremely grateful.
P.S. -- The student who fell from the fourth floor did not jump, and was not pushed. He was attempting to retrieve a paper, which had flown out the window and landed on a ledge. His balance wasn't as good as he had suspected. There is no permanent damage, and he is going to be just fine.
5.24.2009
5.23.2009
Liz + stress + soju = annoying.
It's come to my attention, in the sobriety of morning, that I was being extraordinarily bossy to Mike last night, who was taking it all in stride and, once again, putting up with me, due to the fact that I'm pretty sure I looked as though I'd been through a war by the time I met him for dinner, where I quickly downed three or four shots of soju and sat mostly in silence until it took its effect, and I started swinging my umbrella around in his face.
I'm sorry, Magnes. You're a good buddy.
You see, Mike's not actually afraid of me at all, and he can't ever be bothered doing what I tell him to do, unless he's placating me, which is why we're such good friends. He lets me pretend to be Noona, sometimes, always with a completely unamused look on his face.
Still, he can't fault me entirely for this behavior, as he has a tendency to egg it on and take great joy in it, when it's directed at certain other parties we spend a fair amount of time with, and is, for whatever reason, received with a great amount dutiful seriousness.
I'm going to try to do as Coteacher said, when I finally put my shoes on to leave the office last night, and "forget" it all, because it's the weekend now. I find the concept of not taking your work home, so to speak, as a teacher, to be completely absurd at this point. But she's years on in the game, and so it must be possible eventually. Still, she admits that working at a boys school can make your personal life extremely difficult, because it's hard to stop relating to the opposite sex under those terms -- she, too, has issues not "correcting" male behavior these days, no matter the age of the male in question. I will do my best not to turn into a ya-ing, umbrella-wielding bossy bitch when I'm out with the new guy tonight, after getting a few drinks in me. Please, God.
Eoddeokae. I've got a lot to get done this morning, especially if I really do hope to make it into Seoul with Mags and back before seven. I'd better get on it.
I'm sorry, Magnes. You're a good buddy.
You see, Mike's not actually afraid of me at all, and he can't ever be bothered doing what I tell him to do, unless he's placating me, which is why we're such good friends. He lets me pretend to be Noona, sometimes, always with a completely unamused look on his face.
Still, he can't fault me entirely for this behavior, as he has a tendency to egg it on and take great joy in it, when it's directed at certain other parties we spend a fair amount of time with, and is, for whatever reason, received with a great amount dutiful seriousness.
I'm going to try to do as Coteacher said, when I finally put my shoes on to leave the office last night, and "forget" it all, because it's the weekend now. I find the concept of not taking your work home, so to speak, as a teacher, to be completely absurd at this point. But she's years on in the game, and so it must be possible eventually. Still, she admits that working at a boys school can make your personal life extremely difficult, because it's hard to stop relating to the opposite sex under those terms -- she, too, has issues not "correcting" male behavior these days, no matter the age of the male in question. I will do my best not to turn into a ya-ing, umbrella-wielding bossy bitch when I'm out with the new guy tonight, after getting a few drinks in me. Please, God.
Eoddeokae. I've got a lot to get done this morning, especially if I really do hope to make it into Seoul with Mags and back before seven. I'd better get on it.
5.22.2009
Snap.
I could feel it in my bones when I woke up this morning, today was going to be shitty. I just didn't know to what degree.
Today, something deep, deep inside of me absolutely snapped. If there is one thing I will never be able to tolerate in this lifetime, for better or for worse, it's being disrespected. It started when a class of third graders decided to ignore the fact that I was telling them to be quiet, because the co-teacher wasn't in yet. Normally, they would never dare. But it's the field trip week, and all bets are off. That was the end of the end for me, however.
With them, it took nothing more than for a certain change to come over my face, and for me to step back from the podium.. I can't help it. Sometimes this shift just happens and I am immediately scary. The "ya... YA!"s started then, and eventually the entire class was holding completely still, 100% silent, no one daring to even breathe loudly.
"I... have had... enough. Do you understand? You. Be. Quiet. Now. Understand? UNDERSTAND?"
Neh!
Going through the halls, I felt my attitude completely shifted. I was no longer there to meet and greet each student. The first graders were running up and down the hall outside the English Zone slamming doors when I came up the stairs after lunch.
"YA!"
They froze immediately at the sound of my voice, and turned to look, but when they saw it was the foreign teacher, they started to giggle and shout "ya! ya!" at each other, mockingly. Another door slammed.
"YA!!!! What do you think you're doing? STOP. NOW. Understand?!"
"N-neh...."
They sulked off down the hall. Better to get this clear now, before I start to teach them.
Then. The nightmare class. This is where things really crossed a line with me. They weren't being anymore terrible than usual, but there's this baby at home that I'm missing, I'm tired and I'm stressed out. And I've reached my fucking limit with half-formed human beings thinking they have the right to push me around. Badass no. 1 and no. 2 started in, tossing a pen back and forth. The look happened again.
To No. 1: "You. Hallway. Now."
There wasn't the usual pandemonium, whining, screaming, begging, and refusing to budge that usually goes along with this suggestion. He marched out straight away. I left him there. I got three minutes back into my lecture and he decided to turn on one of the computers in the hallway. The students started to pay more attention to this than to my lecture. Snap. Out into the hall I went, with rolled up worksheets in hand.
"ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!"
"Neh?"
"KNEES! NOW!"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he dropped.
"ARMS UP!"
"N-neh....?"
"ARMS UP! NOW!" I whacked his right arm with the rolled up worksheets. He raised them halfway over his head. "ALL THE WAY! UP! UP! NOW!" He raised them all the way. "DO NOT MOVE! UNDERSTAND? UNDERSTAND!?"
"Neh...."
I walked back into the classroom and resumed the lecture. Two minutes later, No. 2 tossed a pen across the table. "YOU. HALLWAY. NOW!"
He went straight out, without any protest. The boys left inside gawked through the window, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing. "ON YOUR KNEES! ARMS UP! UP!!" I swatted at his legs with the papers, as he was still sitting back on his heels and not properly kneeling. He sat up and raised his arms over his head. "YOU TWO. DO NOT MOVE. YOU MOVE, WE GO TALK TO THE PE TEACHER. UNDERSTAND?"
"Neh."
"UNDERSTAND!?"
"NEH!"
I took one more swipe at No. 1 with the papers: "Arms UP!" As I turned to go back into the classroom, I saw one of the student PE teachers standing in the hallway in mid-stride, gawping at what was going on. I caught eye contact for just a moment, and he quickly bowed and ran off, down the stairs.
The rest of the class went alright, but once when I turned away from the board, I caught No. 1 touching the computer monitor. I went out in the hall and said, simply, "You and me. After school. PE teacher." And went back inside.
After class was over, he actually tried to leave. I couldn't fucking believe it. "You. In here. Now." No. 2 had not budged an inch since I put him on his knees, holding his arms straight above his head for nearly a full 20 minutes. "You. Go home. Have a good weekend."
No. 1 followed me back inside. "Pick up the trash." When he had finished that, I took it the trash from him and said, "Erase the board." When that was done, "Push in the chairs." As we went out into the hallway, and I turned to lock the door behind me, he turned as if to go. "Ya. Where are you going? We are not finished. Didn't I say we would go see the PE teacher?"
Tears began to brim in his eyes, and he squirmed in place, trying to find the words in English. Finally, he just looked at me, helpless. "Teacher. I am sorry."
"What can I do? I told you, you do this, this happens. You made a choice. Not me. You. Your choice."
He squirmed more, as the tears started to fall.
"There's no other way. I told you. The end. Come with me."
I took him down to the office, where the tears continued. The tears, in public, in front of me, in front of the third grade students, seemed to be more punishment than the PE teachers could ever dish out. The office was brimming with third graders, all being lectured by various homeroom teachers. Behavior was definitely at an all-time low today.
Coteacher got halfway through our translated lecture, when three students with the most horrified looks I've ever seen on any face came running, screaming into the office. They shouted something in Korean, and all of the Korean teachers immediately went white. People started running everywhere, and Coteacher rushed to the window, leaning out.
I followed. When I leaned out of the window, I saw something that I don't think will ever leave my mind -- a third grade student laid motionless on the sidewalk below. He had jumped, or fallen, out of a fourth floor window.
I don't know how to describe what happened to my heart. There's only one other time I've ever felt that way.
I was at work until nearly six tonight. I keep wondering how this is supposed to be temporary. How this job is supposed to be something you just pass through. How I, as the foreign teacher, am not supposed to care about my Korean students. How I'm not supposed to become invested. How I'm not supposed to feel any of this.
The student is alive, by the way. I saw his foot move one second before Coteacher really lost it. "He's moving! He's awake!" We'll have to wait until next week to find out what really happened.
On my way out of the building, I came down the stairs to find three third graders with their feet up on the window sill, balancing on their hands. They had obviously scrambled to get back into this position, when they heard a teacher coming down the stairs. When they saw it was only me, they relaxed and fell to the floor.
"Ya. Feet up." My tone was so exhausted and benign that they didn't understand what I was saying the first time.
"Neh?"
"Feet. Up."
"Oh?!"
They scrambled back into position. I walked past them, toward the door. "Have a good weekend, guys."
They struggled to lift their faces up from their awkward position. "You too, Teacher! See you again!"
"See you again...."
Today, something deep, deep inside of me absolutely snapped. If there is one thing I will never be able to tolerate in this lifetime, for better or for worse, it's being disrespected. It started when a class of third graders decided to ignore the fact that I was telling them to be quiet, because the co-teacher wasn't in yet. Normally, they would never dare. But it's the field trip week, and all bets are off. That was the end of the end for me, however.
With them, it took nothing more than for a certain change to come over my face, and for me to step back from the podium.. I can't help it. Sometimes this shift just happens and I am immediately scary. The "ya... YA!"s started then, and eventually the entire class was holding completely still, 100% silent, no one daring to even breathe loudly.
"I... have had... enough. Do you understand? You. Be. Quiet. Now. Understand? UNDERSTAND?"
Neh!
Going through the halls, I felt my attitude completely shifted. I was no longer there to meet and greet each student. The first graders were running up and down the hall outside the English Zone slamming doors when I came up the stairs after lunch.
"YA!"
They froze immediately at the sound of my voice, and turned to look, but when they saw it was the foreign teacher, they started to giggle and shout "ya! ya!" at each other, mockingly. Another door slammed.
"YA!!!! What do you think you're doing? STOP. NOW. Understand?!"
"N-neh...."
They sulked off down the hall. Better to get this clear now, before I start to teach them.
Then. The nightmare class. This is where things really crossed a line with me. They weren't being anymore terrible than usual, but there's this baby at home that I'm missing, I'm tired and I'm stressed out. And I've reached my fucking limit with half-formed human beings thinking they have the right to push me around. Badass no. 1 and no. 2 started in, tossing a pen back and forth. The look happened again.
To No. 1: "You. Hallway. Now."
There wasn't the usual pandemonium, whining, screaming, begging, and refusing to budge that usually goes along with this suggestion. He marched out straight away. I left him there. I got three minutes back into my lecture and he decided to turn on one of the computers in the hallway. The students started to pay more attention to this than to my lecture. Snap. Out into the hall I went, with rolled up worksheets in hand.
"ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!"
"Neh?"
"KNEES! NOW!"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he dropped.
"ARMS UP!"
"N-neh....?"
"ARMS UP! NOW!" I whacked his right arm with the rolled up worksheets. He raised them halfway over his head. "ALL THE WAY! UP! UP! NOW!" He raised them all the way. "DO NOT MOVE! UNDERSTAND? UNDERSTAND!?"
"Neh...."
I walked back into the classroom and resumed the lecture. Two minutes later, No. 2 tossed a pen across the table. "YOU. HALLWAY. NOW!"
He went straight out, without any protest. The boys left inside gawked through the window, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing. "ON YOUR KNEES! ARMS UP! UP!!" I swatted at his legs with the papers, as he was still sitting back on his heels and not properly kneeling. He sat up and raised his arms over his head. "YOU TWO. DO NOT MOVE. YOU MOVE, WE GO TALK TO THE PE TEACHER. UNDERSTAND?"
"Neh."
"UNDERSTAND!?"
"NEH!"
I took one more swipe at No. 1 with the papers: "Arms UP!" As I turned to go back into the classroom, I saw one of the student PE teachers standing in the hallway in mid-stride, gawping at what was going on. I caught eye contact for just a moment, and he quickly bowed and ran off, down the stairs.
The rest of the class went alright, but once when I turned away from the board, I caught No. 1 touching the computer monitor. I went out in the hall and said, simply, "You and me. After school. PE teacher." And went back inside.
After class was over, he actually tried to leave. I couldn't fucking believe it. "You. In here. Now." No. 2 had not budged an inch since I put him on his knees, holding his arms straight above his head for nearly a full 20 minutes. "You. Go home. Have a good weekend."
No. 1 followed me back inside. "Pick up the trash." When he had finished that, I took it the trash from him and said, "Erase the board." When that was done, "Push in the chairs." As we went out into the hallway, and I turned to lock the door behind me, he turned as if to go. "Ya. Where are you going? We are not finished. Didn't I say we would go see the PE teacher?"
Tears began to brim in his eyes, and he squirmed in place, trying to find the words in English. Finally, he just looked at me, helpless. "Teacher. I am sorry."
"What can I do? I told you, you do this, this happens. You made a choice. Not me. You. Your choice."
He squirmed more, as the tears started to fall.
"There's no other way. I told you. The end. Come with me."
I took him down to the office, where the tears continued. The tears, in public, in front of me, in front of the third grade students, seemed to be more punishment than the PE teachers could ever dish out. The office was brimming with third graders, all being lectured by various homeroom teachers. Behavior was definitely at an all-time low today.
Coteacher got halfway through our translated lecture, when three students with the most horrified looks I've ever seen on any face came running, screaming into the office. They shouted something in Korean, and all of the Korean teachers immediately went white. People started running everywhere, and Coteacher rushed to the window, leaning out.
I followed. When I leaned out of the window, I saw something that I don't think will ever leave my mind -- a third grade student laid motionless on the sidewalk below. He had jumped, or fallen, out of a fourth floor window.
I don't know how to describe what happened to my heart. There's only one other time I've ever felt that way.
I was at work until nearly six tonight. I keep wondering how this is supposed to be temporary. How this job is supposed to be something you just pass through. How I, as the foreign teacher, am not supposed to care about my Korean students. How I'm not supposed to become invested. How I'm not supposed to feel any of this.
The student is alive, by the way. I saw his foot move one second before Coteacher really lost it. "He's moving! He's awake!" We'll have to wait until next week to find out what really happened.
On my way out of the building, I came down the stairs to find three third graders with their feet up on the window sill, balancing on their hands. They had obviously scrambled to get back into this position, when they heard a teacher coming down the stairs. When they saw it was only me, they relaxed and fell to the floor.
"Ya. Feet up." My tone was so exhausted and benign that they didn't understand what I was saying the first time.
"Neh?"
"Feet. Up."
"Oh?!"
They scrambled back into position. I walked past them, toward the door. "Have a good weekend, guys."
They struggled to lift their faces up from their awkward position. "You too, Teacher! See you again!"
"See you again...."
Distracted.
I'm way too distracted to teach today. Which is a shame, because I have two somewhat difficult classes during my regular day, and then the nightmare class after school. It's six class Friday. Maybe that means it will go by fast, at least.
I was up way too late last night looking at photos of the baby over and over again. It really breaks my heart not to be able to hold his little hands, feel his little tummy, and tell him hello and welcome to the world. They always talk about how sentimental you'll be "when it happens to you". Of course, this isn't my kid. But I'm already feeling things I didn't expect. I can't imagine what it's doing to my brother, who is somewhere in the Middle East right now.
Well. That whole maternal thing has been bothering me lately, anyway. The longer I work with the boys, the more it's growing. I already had a pretty bad habit of mothering, but I've noticed lately that I go a bit mushy whenever a group of kindergarten kids walks past, or there's a baby running around on the sidewalk somewhere. Now, with the boys, I'd like to consider myself more of an older brother type. But the truth is, when they come in with their various scrapes and bruises (casts and crutches), or when I see them taking nosedives down the stairwells with their slippers on.... well. It's all female. What can I say? Apeuseyo? Kwenchanayo? Ya! Be careful! Don' bust your heads open. You'll shoot someone's eye out.....
Sigh.
And the other thing. This week has seen me doubling as a self-esteem counselor, as we are working on "I'm so worried about...." in third grade classes. I'm too short. My face is bad. Weight is too much. The height thing comes up over and over and over. I've just gone and gotten it out of the way this week, but telling every class, listen -- I'm a girl, right, sort of? Well. I think you can be short and handsome.
Teacher, no! Teacher like short man? Really?
Really. And your face is not bad. And your braces will come off eventually. And your cheeks are not too big. And your skin will clear up.
This ended up in one group of students reporting to me how they had seen an American man jogging while we were at Lotte World. I couldn't catch much of the actual Korean, but the miming was enough to follow. He had big muscles, was very tall and had an immensely handsome face. Big eyes. Teacher like this man, we think.
Well, you see kiddos. He looks so handsome to you because he looks different. To me, maybe he will just seem normal. Maybe Teacher will think he is boring.
Teacher think he boring? No! REALLY?
Well, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying, boys, is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Stop being so hard on yourselves.
I don't wanna go to work today. At all. Please go by quickly.
I was up way too late last night looking at photos of the baby over and over again. It really breaks my heart not to be able to hold his little hands, feel his little tummy, and tell him hello and welcome to the world. They always talk about how sentimental you'll be "when it happens to you". Of course, this isn't my kid. But I'm already feeling things I didn't expect. I can't imagine what it's doing to my brother, who is somewhere in the Middle East right now.
Well. That whole maternal thing has been bothering me lately, anyway. The longer I work with the boys, the more it's growing. I already had a pretty bad habit of mothering, but I've noticed lately that I go a bit mushy whenever a group of kindergarten kids walks past, or there's a baby running around on the sidewalk somewhere. Now, with the boys, I'd like to consider myself more of an older brother type. But the truth is, when they come in with their various scrapes and bruises (casts and crutches), or when I see them taking nosedives down the stairwells with their slippers on.... well. It's all female. What can I say? Apeuseyo? Kwenchanayo? Ya! Be careful! Don' bust your heads open. You'll shoot someone's eye out.....
Sigh.
And the other thing. This week has seen me doubling as a self-esteem counselor, as we are working on "I'm so worried about...." in third grade classes. I'm too short. My face is bad. Weight is too much. The height thing comes up over and over and over. I've just gone and gotten it out of the way this week, but telling every class, listen -- I'm a girl, right, sort of? Well. I think you can be short and handsome.
Teacher, no! Teacher like short man? Really?
Really. And your face is not bad. And your braces will come off eventually. And your cheeks are not too big. And your skin will clear up.
This ended up in one group of students reporting to me how they had seen an American man jogging while we were at Lotte World. I couldn't catch much of the actual Korean, but the miming was enough to follow. He had big muscles, was very tall and had an immensely handsome face. Big eyes. Teacher like this man, we think.
Well, you see kiddos. He looks so handsome to you because he looks different. To me, maybe he will just seem normal. Maybe Teacher will think he is boring.
Teacher think he boring? No! REALLY?
Well, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying, boys, is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Stop being so hard on yourselves.
I don't wanna go to work today. At all. Please go by quickly.
5.21.2009
Outside, they are so small.
Three crying students, two boys who, due to ridiculously difficult life circumstances, have been labeled "trouble makers" and are repeating the third grade, which of course means that, in Korea, they basically have no future. One is missing in action, and he's my favorite. I only found out about his situation today, when he was absent from class again. I asked his classmate, a lovely student (second favorite, actually) who is fairly fluent in English, where he was. He said he didn't know, but explained that he was a year older and has had a really rough go of it.
This is the student who started out giving me massive attitude at the beginning of the year, but was quickly and sufficiently won over when I simply took two minutes to quietly explain the assignment to him and help him write an answer. He's been one of my best students ever since. He's the one who asked his friend (the nearly fluent one) to tell me that, although he cannot speak English, he will speak to me with his heart. Apparently, according to #2, he's a total nightmare in most other classes. "But he likes you, because you like him." I remember him passing me and a co-teacher in the hall, early on in the year, and when he greeted me enthusiastically, the co-teacher sort of yelled at him, asked him why he was acting like that. He responded to her then, in Korean, "She likes me." I had no idea the weight that statement had at the time. Now, I want to know where he is. In a very strange way, I wish that I had acquiesced to his joking taunts for me to give him my phone number. It's hard to speak from the heart over the phone, but with him, I would like to try. I'm worried.
Another one, a second grader, was coming out of the office when I dropped off my attendance sheet. When I came back out, he was standing in the hall rubbing his backside and clearly about to cry. I don't know what he did, but he had just gotten a phenomenal old school style ass-beating from one of the other teachers. I didn't even try to make him speak English -- asked him in Korean if he had been punished. "Neh..." He closed his eyes to try to force back the tears, and I just stood there, rubbing his back. Eventually he squatted down and the tears came. I squatted beside him, gave him a few firm back pats. Leaned over and asked him in Korean if he was okay, as the tears slowed. "Neh. Kwenchanayo."
Another third grader, who was a terrible shit to me last week, simply walked into the office, took a seat on a stool and began to sob. No idea what was up with that one.
It's like these field trips released something in the boys. They were dead and depressed all day long. My second grade class was frighteningly quiet and subdued. Two of my most upstanding third graders got into a mean fist fight with each other over God knows what. Busted up lip on one, huge gash on the neck from fingernails on the other. When I went into the office, after school, each and every teacher had at least one student standing in their cubicle being berated. And some mystery student decided to show up to my after school class voluntarily.
Most of the time, I'm amazed at how stress-free the boys seem, considering how much pressure they're under. You'd never know it. But the last two days, both on the field trip and after, I've seen the evidence of it. Coteacher put it best, when I was explaining how surprised I was to see the boys lose wind so quickly at the amusement park yesterday -- "They don't know how to be children. Inside of their school, they are kings. Outside, they are so small."
And now, it's raining and terrible outside. And I feel like crying, too. My nephew was born just a few hours ago. Welcome to the world, little Logan. Komo's sorry she couldn't be there to meet you, and hopes life won't be too hard on you.
This is the student who started out giving me massive attitude at the beginning of the year, but was quickly and sufficiently won over when I simply took two minutes to quietly explain the assignment to him and help him write an answer. He's been one of my best students ever since. He's the one who asked his friend (the nearly fluent one) to tell me that, although he cannot speak English, he will speak to me with his heart. Apparently, according to #2, he's a total nightmare in most other classes. "But he likes you, because you like him." I remember him passing me and a co-teacher in the hall, early on in the year, and when he greeted me enthusiastically, the co-teacher sort of yelled at him, asked him why he was acting like that. He responded to her then, in Korean, "She likes me." I had no idea the weight that statement had at the time. Now, I want to know where he is. In a very strange way, I wish that I had acquiesced to his joking taunts for me to give him my phone number. It's hard to speak from the heart over the phone, but with him, I would like to try. I'm worried.
Another one, a second grader, was coming out of the office when I dropped off my attendance sheet. When I came back out, he was standing in the hall rubbing his backside and clearly about to cry. I don't know what he did, but he had just gotten a phenomenal old school style ass-beating from one of the other teachers. I didn't even try to make him speak English -- asked him in Korean if he had been punished. "Neh..." He closed his eyes to try to force back the tears, and I just stood there, rubbing his back. Eventually he squatted down and the tears came. I squatted beside him, gave him a few firm back pats. Leaned over and asked him in Korean if he was okay, as the tears slowed. "Neh. Kwenchanayo."
Another third grader, who was a terrible shit to me last week, simply walked into the office, took a seat on a stool and began to sob. No idea what was up with that one.
It's like these field trips released something in the boys. They were dead and depressed all day long. My second grade class was frighteningly quiet and subdued. Two of my most upstanding third graders got into a mean fist fight with each other over God knows what. Busted up lip on one, huge gash on the neck from fingernails on the other. When I went into the office, after school, each and every teacher had at least one student standing in their cubicle being berated. And some mystery student decided to show up to my after school class voluntarily.
Most of the time, I'm amazed at how stress-free the boys seem, considering how much pressure they're under. You'd never know it. But the last two days, both on the field trip and after, I've seen the evidence of it. Coteacher put it best, when I was explaining how surprised I was to see the boys lose wind so quickly at the amusement park yesterday -- "They don't know how to be children. Inside of their school, they are kings. Outside, they are so small."
And now, it's raining and terrible outside. And I feel like crying, too. My nephew was born just a few hours ago. Welcome to the world, little Logan. Komo's sorry she couldn't be there to meet you, and hopes life won't be too hard on you.
5.20.2009
Lotte World.
Christ on a cracker. My day began with me stumbling out of my apartment at 6:45 am, only to be greeted by approximately 75 screaming students in the subway station.
"OH! SEON-SAENG-NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"HAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "
"GOOD MORNING!"
"AHN-NYEONG-HA-SE-YOOOOO!"
"ELIJABESS TEACHER!"
Uh. No. I made a mad dash through the turnstile to make the train that had just pulled in and escape to Bupyeong before they could pile on behind me. Three and a half days later, I arrived at Lotte World, where I was, as suspected, eventually partnered up with the PE teacher. He was a good partner, even though he kept telling everyone we met throughout the day that I don't scream, or make a single noise, on the rides. "Aren't you scared?" Not really. First of all, I'm an adult. Secondly, I spent all four years of high school summers riding roller coasters ten times as big, long and fast as this nearly every weekend.
At some point, we did the Asian sticker photo booth thing, which was a first for me. It had the bizarre option of adding "선생님 사랑해요~" -- "Teacher I love you~". And so, we did.
And the only thing I refused to ride was the bumper cars.
The boys were quite taken with my non-work clothes. I was told all day what good fashion I have, but that happens at work as well, especially when I wear my red tie. Still, they were impressed with how cool their teacher is, when she's not at least half-way trying to meet a dress code. Home Plus, boys. You too can be this cool.
They were quite impressed with the PE teacher for taking me in his charge, as well. They kept shouting at him in Korean as we passed, Oh! You can speak English?! He'd just stick his chest out a little, without breaking his stride.
Around 2 pm, they started to -- there's really no other way to put this -- wilt. I was quite surprised, because they have so much energy throughout the school day, but once they were set loose on the world and told to have fun, they ran out of motivation pretty quickly. I kept shouting at groups of half-dozing boys slumped on benches, as we passed, saying, "HEY HEY HEY! This isn't English class! Why do you look so sad? Go have fun!"
Neeeeeeh..............
Tomorrow's going to be a disaster. The third graders are going to be asleep, the second and first graders are going to have just returned from God knows what -- apparently, reports have been coming in that the second graders have been torturing the teachers on this trip by playing the "fainting game" which involved pressing pillows over each other's faces until they pass out, and some sort of real life version of Frogger where, anytime the bus stops at a service station, they dash madly out into six lanes of traffic to see who can make it to the median of the highway first. Boy, am I ever glad I decided to stay. Needless to say, every last teacher is going to be exhausted.
Now, just to be a bit random (well, not really random -- I watched a martial arts performance at Lotte World today), top five things that make me irrationally attracted to the opposite sex:
1. Magic tricks of any kind
2. Winking
3. Martial arts
4. Motorcycles
5. Brooding
I'm probably going to bed now. Oh! And my nephew is on his way!
"OH! SEON-SAENG-NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"HAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "
"GOOD MORNING!"
"AHN-NYEONG-HA-SE-YOOOOO!"
"ELIJABESS TEACHER!"
Uh. No. I made a mad dash through the turnstile to make the train that had just pulled in and escape to Bupyeong before they could pile on behind me. Three and a half days later, I arrived at Lotte World, where I was, as suspected, eventually partnered up with the PE teacher. He was a good partner, even though he kept telling everyone we met throughout the day that I don't scream, or make a single noise, on the rides. "Aren't you scared?" Not really. First of all, I'm an adult. Secondly, I spent all four years of high school summers riding roller coasters ten times as big, long and fast as this nearly every weekend.
At some point, we did the Asian sticker photo booth thing, which was a first for me. It had the bizarre option of adding "선생님 사랑해요~" -- "Teacher I love you~". And so, we did.
And the only thing I refused to ride was the bumper cars.
The boys were quite taken with my non-work clothes. I was told all day what good fashion I have, but that happens at work as well, especially when I wear my red tie. Still, they were impressed with how cool their teacher is, when she's not at least half-way trying to meet a dress code. Home Plus, boys. You too can be this cool.
They were quite impressed with the PE teacher for taking me in his charge, as well. They kept shouting at him in Korean as we passed, Oh! You can speak English?! He'd just stick his chest out a little, without breaking his stride.
Around 2 pm, they started to -- there's really no other way to put this -- wilt. I was quite surprised, because they have so much energy throughout the school day, but once they were set loose on the world and told to have fun, they ran out of motivation pretty quickly. I kept shouting at groups of half-dozing boys slumped on benches, as we passed, saying, "HEY HEY HEY! This isn't English class! Why do you look so sad? Go have fun!"
Neeeeeeh..............
Tomorrow's going to be a disaster. The third graders are going to be asleep, the second and first graders are going to have just returned from God knows what -- apparently, reports have been coming in that the second graders have been torturing the teachers on this trip by playing the "fainting game" which involved pressing pillows over each other's faces until they pass out, and some sort of real life version of Frogger where, anytime the bus stops at a service station, they dash madly out into six lanes of traffic to see who can make it to the median of the highway first. Boy, am I ever glad I decided to stay. Needless to say, every last teacher is going to be exhausted.
Now, just to be a bit random (well, not really random -- I watched a martial arts performance at Lotte World today), top five things that make me irrationally attracted to the opposite sex:
1. Magic tricks of any kind
2. Winking
3. Martial arts
4. Motorcycles
5. Brooding
I'm probably going to bed now. Oh! And my nephew is on his way!
5.19.2009
Cycles.
Okay. No one told me a field trip would require leaving my apartment an hour and a half earlier than I normally do. Tomorrow is definitely a hat day. Jesus.
Also, as we were leaving the office today, the head teacher asked Coteacher if I like rides. I responded with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" which made all of the teachers giggle, because normally when I'm addressed in Korean or by one of the other teachers in translation, or just in general when I'm dealing with anyone at school other than the students, I'm pretty quiet and reserved. They all looked really shocked. Apparently, it's not the done thing for the teachers to actually ride the rides when they go to Lotte World. They said they'll have to find a 'companion' for me. I have a sneaking suspicion that companion might be the young PE teacher, who I've fastidiously ignored ever since he blanked me at Incheon Bus Terminal Station, after he had cozied up to me on the bus and spoken 'alcohol English' for hours just a few weeks previous.
Today, we were having "snacks" in the teachers' lounge (more force-feeding). They tried to make me sit next to him when I came in, but I just shook my head and took a seat on the couch across the room. So he moved to the couch. I didn't so much as make eye contact, and we continued eating in silence. Eventually, after I had eaten as much as I could, he mustered enough nerve to point at the food and say, "Have more."
I started to answer in Korean, but stopped. I didn't want this particular conversation switching over on me. "Oh, no. I'm full."
He nodded and thought for a minute. "There is very much food....?"
"Yeah...."
After that, he just got up and left.
Am I too harsh? I just can't stand being blanked. It's a thing with me. Either you speak to me, or you don't. I can't get around that.
In other news, Someone thinks that we should hang out again sometime soon. I answered his initial text partially in slangy Korean, and he said he was impressed with my Korean, given the fact that I spoke pretty much none the last time we met. He asked, "Do you have a 'teacher' now or something?"
I don't know how I feel about hanging out with Someone. Especially since I'm supposed to be hanging out with Someone Else this weekend, and I think I will end up getting along with Someone Else much better. But who knows if that will come through.
Why do things move in cycles? What are the planets up to these days?
Also, as we were leaving the office today, the head teacher asked Coteacher if I like rides. I responded with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" which made all of the teachers giggle, because normally when I'm addressed in Korean or by one of the other teachers in translation, or just in general when I'm dealing with anyone at school other than the students, I'm pretty quiet and reserved. They all looked really shocked. Apparently, it's not the done thing for the teachers to actually ride the rides when they go to Lotte World. They said they'll have to find a 'companion' for me. I have a sneaking suspicion that companion might be the young PE teacher, who I've fastidiously ignored ever since he blanked me at Incheon Bus Terminal Station, after he had cozied up to me on the bus and spoken 'alcohol English' for hours just a few weeks previous.
Today, we were having "snacks" in the teachers' lounge (more force-feeding). They tried to make me sit next to him when I came in, but I just shook my head and took a seat on the couch across the room. So he moved to the couch. I didn't so much as make eye contact, and we continued eating in silence. Eventually, after I had eaten as much as I could, he mustered enough nerve to point at the food and say, "Have more."
I started to answer in Korean, but stopped. I didn't want this particular conversation switching over on me. "Oh, no. I'm full."
He nodded and thought for a minute. "There is very much food....?"
"Yeah...."
After that, he just got up and left.
Am I too harsh? I just can't stand being blanked. It's a thing with me. Either you speak to me, or you don't. I can't get around that.
In other news, Someone thinks that we should hang out again sometime soon. I answered his initial text partially in slangy Korean, and he said he was impressed with my Korean, given the fact that I spoke pretty much none the last time we met. He asked, "Do you have a 'teacher' now or something?"
I don't know how I feel about hanging out with Someone. Especially since I'm supposed to be hanging out with Someone Else this weekend, and I think I will end up getting along with Someone Else much better. But who knows if that will come through.
Why do things move in cycles? What are the planets up to these days?
Please don't put me in charge.
The boys are being terrible. I mean, all time terrible, for the third graders. Yesterday we had the school to ourselves, after the younger boys left, and then it was picture day. By the time they made it to my class, concentrating on someone speaking English just wasn't in the cards. The thing is, I can still scare the third graders. I told them straight out that class was terrible and I was disappointed -- they weren't even trying. And they aren't high level enough to not be trying. I didn't say that last part, obviously....
Then my heart almost broke when a group of boys stayed after, and approached me with their heads down, saying, "Teacher, sorry. Very sorry."
"Sorry? Why?" I was erasing the board and couldn't imagine what they had done.
"Because class is terrible."
I very nearly hugged the kid who was speaking -- threw my arm over his shoulders and rubbed his back. "Oh my God, no. Don't say sorry. It's okay. Don't worry. Look at me. You're a good class. Just a bad day. Lotte World should be sorry. It's Lotte World's fault."
Last night, I made a run into Seoul and spent an obscene amount of money on EFL textbooks, second language acquisition methodology, and the most badass Korean verb book of all time -- I'm going back for adjectives, eventually.
Today I guess I'm going hiking. I don't have anything else to say about that.
And last night was another surprise text attack from a certain Korean from the past. Don't know what to make of that -- hopefully nothing. Why does.... never mind. I'm not going there.
Oh man. Lotte World tomorrow! Surprise! We're taking public transport. Coteacher has recommended sneaking out early, because she said she rode the subway with a class of male middle school students before, and said she's never been so publicly ashamed to be called "Seonsaengniiiiiiiiiiiiiim!" in her life. Unfortunately, not knowing we were taking public transport, I think I may have accidentally agreed to accompany a group of students already.....
Good God. How do you keep 500 fifteen-sixteen year old boys under control in a public place? Please don't put me in charge. Please don't put me in charge.
Then my heart almost broke when a group of boys stayed after, and approached me with their heads down, saying, "Teacher, sorry. Very sorry."
"Sorry? Why?" I was erasing the board and couldn't imagine what they had done.
"Because class is terrible."
I very nearly hugged the kid who was speaking -- threw my arm over his shoulders and rubbed his back. "Oh my God, no. Don't say sorry. It's okay. Don't worry. Look at me. You're a good class. Just a bad day. Lotte World should be sorry. It's Lotte World's fault."
Last night, I made a run into Seoul and spent an obscene amount of money on EFL textbooks, second language acquisition methodology, and the most badass Korean verb book of all time -- I'm going back for adjectives, eventually.
Today I guess I'm going hiking. I don't have anything else to say about that.
And last night was another surprise text attack from a certain Korean from the past. Don't know what to make of that -- hopefully nothing. Why does.... never mind. I'm not going there.
Oh man. Lotte World tomorrow! Surprise! We're taking public transport. Coteacher has recommended sneaking out early, because she said she rode the subway with a class of male middle school students before, and said she's never been so publicly ashamed to be called "Seonsaengniiiiiiiiiiiiiim!" in her life. Unfortunately, not knowing we were taking public transport, I think I may have accidentally agreed to accompany a group of students already.....
Good God. How do you keep 500 fifteen-sixteen year old boys under control in a public place? Please don't put me in charge. Please don't put me in charge.
5.17.2009
The third graders.
No Sunday would be complete without dak galbi, and a walk through the neighborhood with Mike while being assaulted by students. Today it was the cool guys, the kings of the school -- the most enthusiastic greeting I've received yet, keeping the company of a few boys from a neighboring school. "ASSAH!" They came barrelling toward me down the sidewalk. Animal took my hand and wouldn't let go.
"Nuku?"
"... Nuku? Who nuku? Mweoh?"
"Na nuku?" Speaking to me in broken Korean. Charming.
"Na nuku? Animal."
"Aish!"
You love it, you little bugger. Another: "I handsome guy. I handsome guy. Hey. Hey. I handsome guy."
Animal again: "Odi kayo?"
I pointed down the street. "Bbang."
They completely ignored Mike, and when I asked what they were doing, the answer was, "I am from Korea." My best and brightest, obviously.
I patted Animal on the back and yanked back my hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
After stopping in the bakery, strolling up the block back toward my place, I turned to Mike and said, "Was one of those boys yelling 'fuckee' after us?"
"I believe so."
"That better not have been one of mine...."
I hope this week goes by quickly, and I have a feeling that it will. Wednesday is Lotte World. Then, Friday Mike and I have plans to start work on a beer bottle chandelier. Which will, of course, involve the drinking of quite a bit of decent beer. All while watching The Office and The Big Lebowski. Again.
Tomorrow it's my dream school -- third graders only. Bring it on.
The current classroom no. 1:
"Nuku?"
"... Nuku? Who nuku? Mweoh?"
"Na nuku?" Speaking to me in broken Korean. Charming.
"Na nuku? Animal."
"Aish!"
You love it, you little bugger. Another: "I handsome guy. I handsome guy. Hey. Hey. I handsome guy."
Animal again: "Odi kayo?"
I pointed down the street. "Bbang."
They completely ignored Mike, and when I asked what they were doing, the answer was, "I am from Korea." My best and brightest, obviously.
I patted Animal on the back and yanked back my hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
After stopping in the bakery, strolling up the block back toward my place, I turned to Mike and said, "Was one of those boys yelling 'fuckee' after us?"
"I believe so."
"That better not have been one of mine...."
I hope this week goes by quickly, and I have a feeling that it will. Wednesday is Lotte World. Then, Friday Mike and I have plans to start work on a beer bottle chandelier. Which will, of course, involve the drinking of quite a bit of decent beer. All while watching The Office and The Big Lebowski. Again.
Tomorrow it's my dream school -- third graders only. Bring it on.
The current classroom no. 1:
In this dream, it was completely dark. My brother was in a small plane, maybe flying it. I wasn't with him -- I couldn't see anything, but I could hear everything and feel everything like I was there. In a way I was there. He was going to crash. Some system failed. He knew he was going down in the water, but he said he was too tired to open the door so he could get out. I listened with all of my heart. I didn't hear a crash, only the soft sound of still dark water and the click of something opening, his body moving through it. Still couldn't see. That's when I realized I was asleep. He crawled into bed beside me.
My brother flies out today, to meet his ship. Prayers of any kind appreciated.
My brother flies out today, to meet his ship. Prayers of any kind appreciated.
5.16.2009
Further adventures.
God. I've never, before last night, met a Korean who speaks just about no English, but who insists on repeating the English he does know over and over and over in your face when he's drunk. I imagine it's what it's like to be a Korean talking to most foreigners in a bar past 2 am. That's what we get for going too far off the beaten path, after we stepped into yet another foreigner bar last night to find it full of, gasp, foreigners. Which we weren't in the mood for.
As I stood with my back to the room, not wanting to invite any conversations, Small Town leaned over and shouted in my ear about a cultural exchange center he knew of that was having a meeting tomorrow night (tonight). "Ya up for it then?" I nodded and sipped my beer without turning around. That's when he said the most classic thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm considering having it put on my gravestone:
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy your company loads. But it's nothing to write home about."
I turned around at this point. "Did you just say my company is nothing to write home about?"
"Oh shit. I was going to extremes dere to get me point across. Now I feel like a bit of a shit."
I burst into laughter, and after I recovered I offered my glass for a toast. "[Small Town], that's honestly the best thing anyone has ever said to me."
That's when we left for the "normal" bar. Way the fuck out of the way. As we walked along, I told him I felt like we had definitely just crossed that invisible line between people who have seen foreigners before, and people who hadn't (geographically).
It started out amusing enough, when after a bit of preliminary "She your girlfriend?"/"No."/"She your girlfriend?"/"No."/"She your girlfriend?"/"NO!", the following conversation took place:
To me, pointing at Small Town: "He..... like-ee........ DOOR?"
Me: "Door.............?"
Drunk guy: "Okay! He like-ee?"
Me: "........ Do you mean girl?"
Drunk guy: "No! No no no. Door. He like-ee door."
Me, to Conor: "Do you like doors?"
Conor: "What?"
Drunk guy: "You like-ee door!"
Me: "You like doors."
Conor: "Oh yeah, love 'em. Where would we be without 'em? Wouldn't want ta use the window."
And so on.
I was almost inspired to practice my current chapter of Korean on him, by informing him that the apple was on the table, the milk was inside the fridge and I was between the desk and the chair. But I resisted.
Eventually at one point, while I was mixing Korean and English with the bar tender (who, despite the fact that he had heard me use quite a bit of Korean throughout the evening, including "dongsaeng" and "noona" to get the point across to the drunk guy that Small Town and I were not at all involved, decided to teach me what "oppa" means, of course in relation to me calling him Oppa -- which feels only slightly more appropriate now that I do speak a bit of Korean, even though I know how to politely use names), when I heard the drunk guy start in on something about "home"and "she going" and "with you". And I heard a tone come out of Small Town that I never have before.
"You. Stop. Now."
I turned away from the bar tender and grabbed Small Town's arm. "Hey hey hey. [Small Town]. Chill out, man. It's just some drunk guy. Some drunk Korean guy. You don't want the police showing up on this one, trust me."
"No. I want him to stop."
"I understand, but he's not going to. He's drunk, and a dick. Just let it ride. It doesn't hurt anything."
I had just finished this sentence when the muppet decided to grab Small Town's arm and point at the two female bar tenders, and try to say something to the effect of taking them home if you like Koreans, or something. Then I had to eat crow.
"HEY." I leaned forward on the bar and grabbed his extended index finger. "Don't point at them."
He had been vaguely trying to insult the ladies to us in English all night. Small Town told me last time he was in, he had been saying things about them "like-ee dick". They didn't appear to speak or understand a word of English, but they were kind enough. When they went to fill Small Town's glass for him, every time he would hold it out for them using only one hand. I would shout, "Ya!" and move his other hand up to the bottom of his glass. The girls would giggle profusely and the bar tender would grin. The drunk man would shake his head and point at the girls. "They...." He couldn't find the words, so he just moved his hand as if to brush them away, and shook his head. Telling me that they're just bar girls -- Small Town doesn't need to use both hands.
I would say, "They are ladies. It's rude. I don't care. Both hands."
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....." The drunk guy shook his head, and pointed at the girls again, preparing to say something in English.
I started to scoot off my stool. The male bar tender watched with a grin while he cleared away empty bottles. "HEY. I'm not kidding. Not a joke. You don't point at them. You don't talk about them in English."
It was just about time we get going.
We walked back to an ex pat bar in the rain, for one final beer. An extremely drunk ajosshi, who was kicking over little concrete pillars, and anything else in his path and then bending down low to shout, "GAMSA!" at them, eyeballed my bottle of beer on the railing and then walked off with it. Good a time as any to head home, right?
As I stood with my back to the room, not wanting to invite any conversations, Small Town leaned over and shouted in my ear about a cultural exchange center he knew of that was having a meeting tomorrow night (tonight). "Ya up for it then?" I nodded and sipped my beer without turning around. That's when he said the most classic thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm considering having it put on my gravestone:
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy your company loads. But it's nothing to write home about."
I turned around at this point. "Did you just say my company is nothing to write home about?"
"Oh shit. I was going to extremes dere to get me point across. Now I feel like a bit of a shit."
I burst into laughter, and after I recovered I offered my glass for a toast. "[Small Town], that's honestly the best thing anyone has ever said to me."
That's when we left for the "normal" bar. Way the fuck out of the way. As we walked along, I told him I felt like we had definitely just crossed that invisible line between people who have seen foreigners before, and people who hadn't (geographically).
It started out amusing enough, when after a bit of preliminary "She your girlfriend?"/"No."/"She your girlfriend?"/"No."/"She your girlfriend?"/"NO!", the following conversation took place:
To me, pointing at Small Town: "He..... like-ee........ DOOR?"
Me: "Door.............?"
Drunk guy: "Okay! He like-ee?"
Me: "........ Do you mean girl?"
Drunk guy: "No! No no no. Door. He like-ee door."
Me, to Conor: "Do you like doors?"
Conor: "What?"
Drunk guy: "You like-ee door!"
Me: "You like doors."
Conor: "Oh yeah, love 'em. Where would we be without 'em? Wouldn't want ta use the window."
And so on.
I was almost inspired to practice my current chapter of Korean on him, by informing him that the apple was on the table, the milk was inside the fridge and I was between the desk and the chair. But I resisted.
Eventually at one point, while I was mixing Korean and English with the bar tender (who, despite the fact that he had heard me use quite a bit of Korean throughout the evening, including "dongsaeng" and "noona" to get the point across to the drunk guy that Small Town and I were not at all involved, decided to teach me what "oppa" means, of course in relation to me calling him Oppa -- which feels only slightly more appropriate now that I do speak a bit of Korean, even though I know how to politely use names), when I heard the drunk guy start in on something about "home"and "she going" and "with you". And I heard a tone come out of Small Town that I never have before.
"You. Stop. Now."
I turned away from the bar tender and grabbed Small Town's arm. "Hey hey hey. [Small Town]. Chill out, man. It's just some drunk guy. Some drunk Korean guy. You don't want the police showing up on this one, trust me."
"No. I want him to stop."
"I understand, but he's not going to. He's drunk, and a dick. Just let it ride. It doesn't hurt anything."
I had just finished this sentence when the muppet decided to grab Small Town's arm and point at the two female bar tenders, and try to say something to the effect of taking them home if you like Koreans, or something. Then I had to eat crow.
"HEY." I leaned forward on the bar and grabbed his extended index finger. "Don't point at them."
He had been vaguely trying to insult the ladies to us in English all night. Small Town told me last time he was in, he had been saying things about them "like-ee dick". They didn't appear to speak or understand a word of English, but they were kind enough. When they went to fill Small Town's glass for him, every time he would hold it out for them using only one hand. I would shout, "Ya!" and move his other hand up to the bottom of his glass. The girls would giggle profusely and the bar tender would grin. The drunk man would shake his head and point at the girls. "They...." He couldn't find the words, so he just moved his hand as if to brush them away, and shook his head. Telling me that they're just bar girls -- Small Town doesn't need to use both hands.
I would say, "They are ladies. It's rude. I don't care. Both hands."
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....." The drunk guy shook his head, and pointed at the girls again, preparing to say something in English.
I started to scoot off my stool. The male bar tender watched with a grin while he cleared away empty bottles. "HEY. I'm not kidding. Not a joke. You don't point at them. You don't talk about them in English."
It was just about time we get going.
We walked back to an ex pat bar in the rain, for one final beer. An extremely drunk ajosshi, who was kicking over little concrete pillars, and anything else in his path and then bending down low to shout, "GAMSA!" at them, eyeballed my bottle of beer on the railing and then walked off with it. Good a time as any to head home, right?
5.15.2009
The woes of celebrity and a tragic string of minor indecision.
Teachers' Day. How terrifying. Every other teacher got pinned with a corsage at the opening ceremony this morning -- my student, a third grader, started to awkwardly put his hand inside my shirt, spazzed out, giggled, thrust the corsage into my hands, and promptly ran away. Coteacher had to do it for me.
On another note, I had yet another group of six foot tall students leap, squealing, over each others' heads today to escape when a bumblebee came in through the window. I explained, yet again, that this type of bee cannot sting you.
One particularly English adept student, who I've gotten to know fairly well because he leads the gang that "cleans" the English Zone every day, and ceaselessly chatters in English the entire time, asked last week if I was going away with the first and second graders, or staying and going with them to Lotte World. I said, staying with you, of course. My favorites.
Apparently, by today word had gotten around. I was surrounded in the hallway after lunch. "Teacher you Lotte World going?" I didn't get much sleep last night, and was a bit miffed about most of my classes being canceled today, and therefore having no actual purpose at work, so I wasn't in my normally convivial after-lunch mood, and was trying to escape down the hallway as quickly as possible to get to the bathroom. But a literal mob formed around me. The male teacher from my office, seeing this from down the hall, paused and arbitrarily and half-heartedly "Ya!"ed once, but, seeing that it made little difference, he went back to whatever he was doing without addressing the matter further.
The mob grew.
"Teacher you with me bus sitting?"
"Teacher! I best friend! You sitting with to me in roller coaster!"
It's nice to be liked, but I haven't the foggiest idea where this sudden, momentary celebrity status blossomed out of. And today wasn't really the day for it. Also, I'm a little afraid of Lotte World.
A lot of the schools' former students were in today, visiting old teachers, which was quite nice, except for the fact that they're high school boys -- my sworn enemy in Korea. Coteacher decided to drive me home today, maybe because I apparently looked "exhausted" (was exhausted), and as I pulled the office door open, we were greeted by a mammoth crowd of 17 or 18 year old boys on the other side.
"WAAAAH! HAAAA-EEEEE!"
I lowered my shoulders and scuttled through the mob to the other side, which respectfully parted to allow Coteacher to pass after me. In the parking lot, I tried to explain what it is about Korean high school boys that intimidates me so much. First of all, they always appear in a group of ten or above. Secondly, it's not that they're any taller than the average Westerner.... it's that they're all the exact same height, which happens to be a few inches taller than me. I don't like being crowded in on by them.
Overall, it was a day that would have been lovely, had I been my normal self. Usually, I adore basking in the attention of my/other people's students -- it's true. But I'm grumpy and tired. And the weather is a horrible brand of in-between. And it's going to rain tomorrow, and I have to go to the stupid bookstore and stumble around being elbowed by stupid people sifting through the abomination that is the English study textbooks section like crazed animals.
I came home and almost promptly fell asleep. Now I'm debating if meeting Small Town for a drink later would make things better or worse. Also, I'm debating whether or not I'm hungry. My life is tragic string of minor indecision.
On another note, I had yet another group of six foot tall students leap, squealing, over each others' heads today to escape when a bumblebee came in through the window. I explained, yet again, that this type of bee cannot sting you.
One particularly English adept student, who I've gotten to know fairly well because he leads the gang that "cleans" the English Zone every day, and ceaselessly chatters in English the entire time, asked last week if I was going away with the first and second graders, or staying and going with them to Lotte World. I said, staying with you, of course. My favorites.
Apparently, by today word had gotten around. I was surrounded in the hallway after lunch. "Teacher you Lotte World going?" I didn't get much sleep last night, and was a bit miffed about most of my classes being canceled today, and therefore having no actual purpose at work, so I wasn't in my normally convivial after-lunch mood, and was trying to escape down the hallway as quickly as possible to get to the bathroom. But a literal mob formed around me. The male teacher from my office, seeing this from down the hall, paused and arbitrarily and half-heartedly "Ya!"ed once, but, seeing that it made little difference, he went back to whatever he was doing without addressing the matter further.
The mob grew.
"Teacher you with me bus sitting?"
"Teacher! I best friend! You sitting with to me in roller coaster!"
It's nice to be liked, but I haven't the foggiest idea where this sudden, momentary celebrity status blossomed out of. And today wasn't really the day for it. Also, I'm a little afraid of Lotte World.
A lot of the schools' former students were in today, visiting old teachers, which was quite nice, except for the fact that they're high school boys -- my sworn enemy in Korea. Coteacher decided to drive me home today, maybe because I apparently looked "exhausted" (was exhausted), and as I pulled the office door open, we were greeted by a mammoth crowd of 17 or 18 year old boys on the other side.
"WAAAAH! HAAAA-EEEEE!"
I lowered my shoulders and scuttled through the mob to the other side, which respectfully parted to allow Coteacher to pass after me. In the parking lot, I tried to explain what it is about Korean high school boys that intimidates me so much. First of all, they always appear in a group of ten or above. Secondly, it's not that they're any taller than the average Westerner.... it's that they're all the exact same height, which happens to be a few inches taller than me. I don't like being crowded in on by them.
Overall, it was a day that would have been lovely, had I been my normal self. Usually, I adore basking in the attention of my/other people's students -- it's true. But I'm grumpy and tired. And the weather is a horrible brand of in-between. And it's going to rain tomorrow, and I have to go to the stupid bookstore and stumble around being elbowed by stupid people sifting through the abomination that is the English study textbooks section like crazed animals.
I came home and almost promptly fell asleep. Now I'm debating if meeting Small Town for a drink later would make things better or worse. Also, I'm debating whether or not I'm hungry. My life is tragic string of minor indecision.
5.14.2009
Breakthrough moment.
There's something about learning a language that isn't just studying and memorizing. I honestly believe that our language trains us to hear things in certain ways. It's as if our range of specific sounds limits our understanding of sounds outside of it. And I don't just mean in speaking, as in accents. I mean hearing. It took me a long time to be convinced that I didn't sometimes hear a definite "d" sound at the beginning of "neh". After a few weeks of paying careful attention every single time I heard and said the word, however, I finally realized how the "d" I was hearing was actually an "n" -- or, rather, not an "n" but a "ㄴ". But it definitely wasn't the "d" I had heard before.
That's going to sound completely bizarre, unless you've lived in an environment before where you are learning the language that is natively spoken around you.
It's the same with "b" and "m". "Mweoh? for ages was undeniably "Boh?" in my ears. I listened and listened, but still, the word was definitely "boh". Then, suddenly, one day I heard it. The sound actually changed.
A lot of the trouble comes from the fact that we try to transfer sounds exactly, instead of learn them new. It's the place you almost have to start from. Even when you study the sounds of a particular alphabet, instead of transliterating the text into your own alphabet, you still (in the beginning) understand the new alphabet as a version of your old one. It can take an immense amount of effort to really learn the new sounds. And don't even get me started on recreating them yourself with your own mouth. But once you can hear the sounds, you can get a lot closer to making them.
Anyway, sitting here reviewing what I studied today in Korean, I FINALLY stumbled on what it is about 어. This has been driving me crazy for ages. When I hear it in natively spoken Korean, I hear a hard "o" -- no doubt about it. But when I ask a Korean to demonstrate just this sound, I hear "uh". Why why why? I knew the sound was somewhere in between, but I could not figure out where, or how to make it. I finally nailed, and heard it correctly for the first time. The only thing I can tell you is, it's the sound you might make if someone threw a hard elbow in your stomach.
This is such an important thing for me to have learned, for the sake of my students. Not that 어 sounds like being elbowed in the stomach, but that, even with me -- a native English speaker -- demonstrating over and over how something sounds, it's going to take some time before they can actually hear it.
I'm still completely puzzled by ㄹ and 으. But these are the two sounds it is hardest to remove from English for native Korean speakers, so that's really no surprise. Still, every time I come across 를, I want to burst into tears. I can't imagine ever, ever being able to make any sound close to that. And when I ask a Korean to say it for me, it sounds like pure static. I'll just keep tuning in and waiting for the day when, suddenly, it will come through loud and clear.
Coteacher said something else completely brilliant this week, while we were discussing the students. She said that learning a language is "especially emotional". And it's true -- even when (as with a lot of our students) you aren't emotionally invested in the language at all. There's something about the vitality of how a language functions that transfers over, unlike the comparative sterility of learning math or science or history. Language is an emotional thing, and when you fail in language, you feel that failure much more intensely. Because it isn't just memorizing, or understanding concepts -- it's much more abstract, like learning an art form. When I would watch certain friends work on paintings or sculptures at university, I was often struck with complete and total awe. How do you learn to do that? How does someone explain that to you -- how do you recreate it?
It's almost like magic. And there's an element to second language acquisition that is exactly like that. It's mysterious. When you create a piece of art, in the process, you aren't always sure of how it looks to anyone else. When you study math, science, or history, there is a right answer. You know you are either right, or you are wrong. When you make a piece of art, or speak a second language, it's the fact that you are in the process of learning that keeps you unsure of exactly how well you've just done. In two months' time, in two years' time, you'll know if what you just made, or said, is what you meant to make or say -- if it gave the right impression. But not until then. It's the uncertainty that makes it emotional -- the fact that you can't see, or hear, what you are doing, for yourself.
My point is, I'm not kidding when I say 를 makes me want to cry.....
That's going to sound completely bizarre, unless you've lived in an environment before where you are learning the language that is natively spoken around you.
It's the same with "b" and "m". "Mweoh? for ages was undeniably "Boh?" in my ears. I listened and listened, but still, the word was definitely "boh". Then, suddenly, one day I heard it. The sound actually changed.
A lot of the trouble comes from the fact that we try to transfer sounds exactly, instead of learn them new. It's the place you almost have to start from. Even when you study the sounds of a particular alphabet, instead of transliterating the text into your own alphabet, you still (in the beginning) understand the new alphabet as a version of your old one. It can take an immense amount of effort to really learn the new sounds. And don't even get me started on recreating them yourself with your own mouth. But once you can hear the sounds, you can get a lot closer to making them.
Anyway, sitting here reviewing what I studied today in Korean, I FINALLY stumbled on what it is about 어. This has been driving me crazy for ages. When I hear it in natively spoken Korean, I hear a hard "o" -- no doubt about it. But when I ask a Korean to demonstrate just this sound, I hear "uh". Why why why? I knew the sound was somewhere in between, but I could not figure out where, or how to make it. I finally nailed, and heard it correctly for the first time. The only thing I can tell you is, it's the sound you might make if someone threw a hard elbow in your stomach.
This is such an important thing for me to have learned, for the sake of my students. Not that 어 sounds like being elbowed in the stomach, but that, even with me -- a native English speaker -- demonstrating over and over how something sounds, it's going to take some time before they can actually hear it.
I'm still completely puzzled by ㄹ and 으. But these are the two sounds it is hardest to remove from English for native Korean speakers, so that's really no surprise. Still, every time I come across 를, I want to burst into tears. I can't imagine ever, ever being able to make any sound close to that. And when I ask a Korean to say it for me, it sounds like pure static. I'll just keep tuning in and waiting for the day when, suddenly, it will come through loud and clear.
Coteacher said something else completely brilliant this week, while we were discussing the students. She said that learning a language is "especially emotional". And it's true -- even when (as with a lot of our students) you aren't emotionally invested in the language at all. There's something about the vitality of how a language functions that transfers over, unlike the comparative sterility of learning math or science or history. Language is an emotional thing, and when you fail in language, you feel that failure much more intensely. Because it isn't just memorizing, or understanding concepts -- it's much more abstract, like learning an art form. When I would watch certain friends work on paintings or sculptures at university, I was often struck with complete and total awe. How do you learn to do that? How does someone explain that to you -- how do you recreate it?
It's almost like magic. And there's an element to second language acquisition that is exactly like that. It's mysterious. When you create a piece of art, in the process, you aren't always sure of how it looks to anyone else. When you study math, science, or history, there is a right answer. You know you are either right, or you are wrong. When you make a piece of art, or speak a second language, it's the fact that you are in the process of learning that keeps you unsure of exactly how well you've just done. In two months' time, in two years' time, you'll know if what you just made, or said, is what you meant to make or say -- if it gave the right impression. But not until then. It's the uncertainty that makes it emotional -- the fact that you can't see, or hear, what you are doing, for yourself.
My point is, I'm not kidding when I say 를 makes me want to cry.....
A strange kind of innocence.
Well, it's official. The third graders have crossed the line between "comfortable" and "too comfortable". They've really relaxed a lot in class, and it's loads of fun now. Every class is at least 25 minutes group conversation, these days. Unfortunately, I appear to have morphed from Seonsaengnim into Noona -- a noona they are very, very open with. This week, while discussing priorities, I've heard all about who is a playboy, who can't get a girlfriend, who likes porn (and why). I've also heard three times that I am their top priority.
This is all hilarious.
It takes a lot of work to make sure I, myself, don't start crossing lines with sarcastic replies. I have to remember I'm a teacher in a classroom, and not a smart-mouthed girl in a bar. I tend to just fall back on the ambiguous connotation of a phrase I taught them last year -- "That's too bad."
One student made a massive accidental faux pas when I questioned his top priority being money. "Money? What about love?" I asked.
He was answering in front of the entire class, and in his nervousness, he blurted out, "Buy girl!"
The look on my face answered this for me, and the student immediately turned a deep shade of purple. "Ahniyo! No! Nonono! Teacher! I....no!"
"I know, I know. You mean, girls will like you if you have money."
"Yes! That..."
"'Buy girl' is probably not the best way to say this...."
"Teacher, I know! I'm sorry!"
Today I was sitting in the EZ frowning over my Korean textbook when I heard unusually deep voices and the chained backdoor started to rattle. I ducked out around the corner to find a group of six or seven high school boys on the other side of the glass.
One immediately blurted out, "OH! Shape! Good!" He made the shape of an hourglass in the air with his hands. "S curve! Nie-suh!"
"Who the f....... who are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks, and you!?"
"No. Not how are you.... who are you? Who? Nukuseyo?"
"Uh... we... this school.... before going. 2008!"
"What are you doing here?"
"Neh?"
"Uh... wae? Neo.... wae yeogi isseoyo?"
"WAAAAAAAAAH! Hangookmal [blah blah blah]! [Blah blah blah blah blah]? [Blah blah blah]!"
"Ahniyo. Chogumyo. Wae? Wae yeogi?"
"Visit."
Yes. Thank you. "What do you want?"
"Oh! Nothing. Hello! Nice to meet you!"
They each stuck their hands through the crack in the door to shake mine. I don't remember any of them at all. But then, I didn't teach the third graders last year.
Today, just after I released fourth period, they all crowded around the window, instead of stampeding off to lunch they way they usually do. I stood and watched them excitedly chatter for a few moments, pointing at something in the sky. Finally, one turned around to face me: "Teacher! Rainbow!"
Sometimes, they amaze me with their innocence.
This is all hilarious.
It takes a lot of work to make sure I, myself, don't start crossing lines with sarcastic replies. I have to remember I'm a teacher in a classroom, and not a smart-mouthed girl in a bar. I tend to just fall back on the ambiguous connotation of a phrase I taught them last year -- "That's too bad."
One student made a massive accidental faux pas when I questioned his top priority being money. "Money? What about love?" I asked.
He was answering in front of the entire class, and in his nervousness, he blurted out, "Buy girl!"
The look on my face answered this for me, and the student immediately turned a deep shade of purple. "Ahniyo! No! Nonono! Teacher! I....no!"
"I know, I know. You mean, girls will like you if you have money."
"Yes! That..."
"'Buy girl' is probably not the best way to say this...."
"Teacher, I know! I'm sorry!"
Today I was sitting in the EZ frowning over my Korean textbook when I heard unusually deep voices and the chained backdoor started to rattle. I ducked out around the corner to find a group of six or seven high school boys on the other side of the glass.
One immediately blurted out, "OH! Shape! Good!" He made the shape of an hourglass in the air with his hands. "S curve! Nie-suh!"
"Who the f....... who are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks, and you!?"
"No. Not how are you.... who are you? Who? Nukuseyo?"
"Uh... we... this school.... before going. 2008!"
"What are you doing here?"
"Neh?"
"Uh... wae? Neo.... wae yeogi isseoyo?"
"WAAAAAAAAAH! Hangookmal [blah blah blah]! [Blah blah blah blah blah]? [Blah blah blah]!"
"Ahniyo. Chogumyo. Wae? Wae yeogi?"
"Visit."
Yes. Thank you. "What do you want?"
"Oh! Nothing. Hello! Nice to meet you!"
They each stuck their hands through the crack in the door to shake mine. I don't remember any of them at all. But then, I didn't teach the third graders last year.
Today, just after I released fourth period, they all crowded around the window, instead of stampeding off to lunch they way they usually do. I stood and watched them excitedly chatter for a few moments, pointing at something in the sky. Finally, one turned around to face me: "Teacher! Rainbow!"
Sometimes, they amaze me with their innocence.
5.12.2009
Hmm.
So, I remarked briefly last week about the sudden appearance of three new PE teachers, which seemed quite odd to me as we already have five, and we're well into the school year already. Turns out, they're student teachers. And we've got an English one as well. I'm afraid of her, already.
Mike told me at the beginning of the school year about some 23 year old English teacher who suddenly appeared at his school, all gungho and rarin' to go, giving him 'helpful' advice about how to run his classes. It's odd to feel like an old-hand at this already, but even where properly trained Korean teachers are concerned, we sort of are. Nothing but nothing can prepare you, really, for the reality of classroom teaching -- especially in a middle school, especially with 40-45 students per class. Mike proceeded to report the both abrupt and incremental end to her education honeymoon over the course of the next few weeks. She learned soon enough.
I saw her for the first time today. She was peeking through the window from the hall outside the classroom, while I taught, with a big, enthusiastic grin on her face. When I passed her in the hall, I bowed (as I do to all of the teachers), but she shouted out a loud "HIYEE!" and waved in response instead.
Another strange thing has been happening this week, where, as a result of a few different incidents where co-teachers needed to be called out of my classes, some of the other subject teachers have gotten a peak in at what I do in the classroom. It seems to be a source of infinite fascination. I have to admit, I'd be dead curious what the hell I did for forty-five minutes only in English as well. I still sort of am. I absolutely despise the idea of giving a demo class (which is a distinct possibility, if I stay with my school next year) where all the other native teachers and their co-teachers sit in on your class. But, I quite like the idea of giving an open class for MY fellow teachers at MY school.
They gape in awe when they pass by in the hallways and the students are having conversations with me. They can't, for the life of them, figure out what on earth I'm doing in the boys' classrooms after lunch, sitting around and making small-talk. I'd like for them to see how confident the boys have become, and how capable they are of communicating in English, even if it's just one word at at time -- how we're able to make jokes the whole class can understand and have fairly complicated debates about various issues. And that, even though they, the teachers, doubt their abilities in English too much to speak to me without a co-teacher nearby for translation, the boys are perfectly comfortable doing so at this point.
Even my main co-teacher, who doesn't have any of the sort of typically aghast notions about a foreigner being non-idiotic, was shocked by something last week. We were having lunch, and I was rattling on about how two boys were neighborhood Romeos -- girls were always chasing them down after school, but they would completely ignore them if they saw that I was anywhere nearby. I went on to tell her that the two students also hang out with some high school kids, and had been getting into a little trouble lately. They'd been in a fight with some boys from a neighboring middle school recently, but they had at least won the fight.
She interrupted me -- "Sorry! But... Liz.... can I ask? How do you know all of this?"
I looked up at her in surprise. "The boys told me."
"Oh! ... What? They told you all of that?"
"Yes."
"Third graders?" Our third graders are notorious for having worse English than first and second.
"Yes."
"Wha.... I.... how? High level students?"
I gave her a look that said she should know better. Talking to girls, getting into fights.... no. Not high at all.
"Hmm."
Yeah. Hmm. Those third graders are smart boys. Much smarter than some of their teachers give them credit for, sometimes. The second graders may technically know more English, and do better on exams. But the third graders try harder, pay more attention and -- most important of all, in this respect -- view me as an actual human being worth communicating with on a level other than just practicing English. To the second graders, I am the ever-novel native speaking teacher -- a chance to try out their English, and listen to a native speaker respond. For the most part, they don't have the desire the third graders do to communicate actual ideas, and have actual conversations. The third graders may not care about English, but they care about telling me how stressed out they are about exams, or how they have a problem because they like two girls at the same time, or how they had a fight with their mom and don't know what to do. It makes a world of difference. And they are definitely learning more from me because of it.
Mike told me at the beginning of the school year about some 23 year old English teacher who suddenly appeared at his school, all gungho and rarin' to go, giving him 'helpful' advice about how to run his classes. It's odd to feel like an old-hand at this already, but even where properly trained Korean teachers are concerned, we sort of are. Nothing but nothing can prepare you, really, for the reality of classroom teaching -- especially in a middle school, especially with 40-45 students per class. Mike proceeded to report the both abrupt and incremental end to her education honeymoon over the course of the next few weeks. She learned soon enough.
I saw her for the first time today. She was peeking through the window from the hall outside the classroom, while I taught, with a big, enthusiastic grin on her face. When I passed her in the hall, I bowed (as I do to all of the teachers), but she shouted out a loud "HIYEE!" and waved in response instead.
Another strange thing has been happening this week, where, as a result of a few different incidents where co-teachers needed to be called out of my classes, some of the other subject teachers have gotten a peak in at what I do in the classroom. It seems to be a source of infinite fascination. I have to admit, I'd be dead curious what the hell I did for forty-five minutes only in English as well. I still sort of am. I absolutely despise the idea of giving a demo class (which is a distinct possibility, if I stay with my school next year) where all the other native teachers and their co-teachers sit in on your class. But, I quite like the idea of giving an open class for MY fellow teachers at MY school.
They gape in awe when they pass by in the hallways and the students are having conversations with me. They can't, for the life of them, figure out what on earth I'm doing in the boys' classrooms after lunch, sitting around and making small-talk. I'd like for them to see how confident the boys have become, and how capable they are of communicating in English, even if it's just one word at at time -- how we're able to make jokes the whole class can understand and have fairly complicated debates about various issues. And that, even though they, the teachers, doubt their abilities in English too much to speak to me without a co-teacher nearby for translation, the boys are perfectly comfortable doing so at this point.
Even my main co-teacher, who doesn't have any of the sort of typically aghast notions about a foreigner being non-idiotic, was shocked by something last week. We were having lunch, and I was rattling on about how two boys were neighborhood Romeos -- girls were always chasing them down after school, but they would completely ignore them if they saw that I was anywhere nearby. I went on to tell her that the two students also hang out with some high school kids, and had been getting into a little trouble lately. They'd been in a fight with some boys from a neighboring middle school recently, but they had at least won the fight.
She interrupted me -- "Sorry! But... Liz.... can I ask? How do you know all of this?"
I looked up at her in surprise. "The boys told me."
"Oh! ... What? They told you all of that?"
"Yes."
"Third graders?" Our third graders are notorious for having worse English than first and second.
"Yes."
"Wha.... I.... how? High level students?"
I gave her a look that said she should know better. Talking to girls, getting into fights.... no. Not high at all.
"Hmm."
Yeah. Hmm. Those third graders are smart boys. Much smarter than some of their teachers give them credit for, sometimes. The second graders may technically know more English, and do better on exams. But the third graders try harder, pay more attention and -- most important of all, in this respect -- view me as an actual human being worth communicating with on a level other than just practicing English. To the second graders, I am the ever-novel native speaking teacher -- a chance to try out their English, and listen to a native speaker respond. For the most part, they don't have the desire the third graders do to communicate actual ideas, and have actual conversations. The third graders may not care about English, but they care about telling me how stressed out they are about exams, or how they have a problem because they like two girls at the same time, or how they had a fight with their mom and don't know what to do. It makes a world of difference. And they are definitely learning more from me because of it.
5.09.2009
He was right.
Falling back into your body comes at a price, but it might be one that's worth paying. You can get this temporary (long-lasting) high off of wandering around, changing the background. But, as many people have observed over the centuries, at the end of the day, you are still there. It's a habit of mine and Iva's to fall onto the subject of why we can't or won't make things stick. I think we're both learning a lesson at the moment.
The problem is, all the things you may want to stick may not be in the same place. Then what?
The chaos is either outside or it's inside. One has to be louder than the other, at any given moment. That's the problem, for some of us, with getting comfortable. It can start this thing churning in a place deep inside that you don't know how to reach with your own two hands.
I'm going to try to put my hand on it, this time.
Every moment in life, from a certain point of future perspective, can be viewed, if not as a failure, than as a practice session. Strength training. One day, when you wake up the next morning, you just won't be sore anymore.
Three hours of sleep isn't nearly enough to face a day on the crowded, jostling streets of Seoul. Small Town said, in a text message this week, that he bet Incheon had never felt more like home. At Bupyeong Station tonight, boarding that light blue line and taking an empty seat on the quiet train, I realized he was right.
What am I trying to say? I haven't any idea. My thoughts and emotions seem to shuffle like cards in very capable hands these days. For now, I'm breaking my own rule -- sliding open the entire back side of my apartment and taking a bottle of wine, a book and my cigarettes to bed. I want tomorrow to start early.
The problem is, all the things you may want to stick may not be in the same place. Then what?
The chaos is either outside or it's inside. One has to be louder than the other, at any given moment. That's the problem, for some of us, with getting comfortable. It can start this thing churning in a place deep inside that you don't know how to reach with your own two hands.
I'm going to try to put my hand on it, this time.
Every moment in life, from a certain point of future perspective, can be viewed, if not as a failure, than as a practice session. Strength training. One day, when you wake up the next morning, you just won't be sore anymore.
Three hours of sleep isn't nearly enough to face a day on the crowded, jostling streets of Seoul. Small Town said, in a text message this week, that he bet Incheon had never felt more like home. At Bupyeong Station tonight, boarding that light blue line and taking an empty seat on the quiet train, I realized he was right.
What am I trying to say? I haven't any idea. My thoughts and emotions seem to shuffle like cards in very capable hands these days. For now, I'm breaking my own rule -- sliding open the entire back side of my apartment and taking a bottle of wine, a book and my cigarettes to bed. I want tomorrow to start early.
5.07.2009
Gracious hosts.
Christ, it's gonna be another "I love Korea" post. I'm sorry. What can I say?
I have a choice for the week after next at school: 1. Three days and two nights on a "training program"/"field trip" with the first and second grade monsters and God knows what teachers (definitely Gil), which I can't actually get any specifics about or 2. Two days of teaching only the lovely, lovely third graders and then going on a field trip with them to an amusement park on the third.
Gee. How will I ever decide? That week is going to be heaven. I love the total chaos of the Korean public education system, at times. Although it's mostly year-round, there are so many festivals, field trips, sport days, and assorted other crap that you don't feel it nearly as much as I think you would at an American school.
Hm. I love those boys.
And this thing with Korea... I haven't the foggiest idea what's going on. So many expats here seem so miserable all the time, especially after the first few months, when the novelty has worn off. God knows I have my complaints, and I have my wickedly pissed off days. But it just keeps getting deeper. What the fuck is it about this place?
I've got the Korean no-hour-of-the-day-wasted bug again. I swear to God it's contagious. Plus the weather is beautiful, and after staring at it through windows all day, I can't bear to just go home and continue that process. Tonight was wangalbi with Mike, then grabbing a quick cup of coffee at Java Shitty to take on a stroll around the neighborhood, sans headphones. I love how everything opens up here in warm weather -- whole facades of buildings for stories up seem to just peel off, or slide open, to let in the cool breeze and let out the sounds and smells of whatever is going on inside. Walking home, I was surrounded by the sounds of dozens of Korean families slapping Go Stop cards down on wooden floors or mats and shouting out at the results.
My neighborhood, although it is a part of Incheon, is really more like its own version of a small town. It's not like any other part of Incheon I've spent time in. In other parts, the foreigners are met by hard stares as they pass, but here, just as in the countryside this weekend, it's almost entirely smiles and what Mike and I like to call "drive-bys" -- people walking past and shouting out random greetings in English. There's something incredibly comfortable in bringing a spontaneous smile to the face of anyone you pass by simply smiling yourself and giving a little bow. Even the coldest glares will instantly transform after this small gesture.
Maybe that's why I don't feel the outsiderness as intensely as some other expats. I have my fair share of what-the-fuck moments -- don't get me wrong. And I have had some blatantly ludicrous things said straight to my face. But for the most part, I find Koreans to be immensely eager to make you feel like anything but an outsider. They want to share everything with you -- their food, their language, their families. On the whole, most people seem to recognize on a very real level that I am far from home, far from my family, and they seem to feel somehow responsible for it. I shouldn't be allowed to walk in the rain without an umbrella, and eating meager portions at lunch is unacceptable.
Mike and I were discussing the habit of some Koreans of babying foreigners when it comes to relatively simple things, like using chopsticks, reading prices or eating spicy food. Yes, it can be tiring at times. And it can, on worse days, make you feel even more outside. But it's not the intention -- I believe that -- and that's why I have seemingly infinite patience for it. The intention, much like a slightly overbearing mother, is to make sure you are not made to be uncomfortable, because they recognize that you are in a place that is strange and different to you. I find it infinitely easier to tolerate than the American attitude toward foreigners of "suck it up, figure it out, or leave". The vast majority of Koreans I have encountered seem to view me as something akin to a guest in their home. And they have been, on the whole, overwhelmingly gracious hosts.
I have a choice for the week after next at school: 1. Three days and two nights on a "training program"/"field trip" with the first and second grade monsters and God knows what teachers (definitely Gil), which I can't actually get any specifics about or 2. Two days of teaching only the lovely, lovely third graders and then going on a field trip with them to an amusement park on the third.
Gee. How will I ever decide? That week is going to be heaven. I love the total chaos of the Korean public education system, at times. Although it's mostly year-round, there are so many festivals, field trips, sport days, and assorted other crap that you don't feel it nearly as much as I think you would at an American school.
Hm. I love those boys.
And this thing with Korea... I haven't the foggiest idea what's going on. So many expats here seem so miserable all the time, especially after the first few months, when the novelty has worn off. God knows I have my complaints, and I have my wickedly pissed off days. But it just keeps getting deeper. What the fuck is it about this place?
I've got the Korean no-hour-of-the-day-wasted bug again. I swear to God it's contagious. Plus the weather is beautiful, and after staring at it through windows all day, I can't bear to just go home and continue that process. Tonight was wangalbi with Mike, then grabbing a quick cup of coffee at Java Shitty to take on a stroll around the neighborhood, sans headphones. I love how everything opens up here in warm weather -- whole facades of buildings for stories up seem to just peel off, or slide open, to let in the cool breeze and let out the sounds and smells of whatever is going on inside. Walking home, I was surrounded by the sounds of dozens of Korean families slapping Go Stop cards down on wooden floors or mats and shouting out at the results.
My neighborhood, although it is a part of Incheon, is really more like its own version of a small town. It's not like any other part of Incheon I've spent time in. In other parts, the foreigners are met by hard stares as they pass, but here, just as in the countryside this weekend, it's almost entirely smiles and what Mike and I like to call "drive-bys" -- people walking past and shouting out random greetings in English. There's something incredibly comfortable in bringing a spontaneous smile to the face of anyone you pass by simply smiling yourself and giving a little bow. Even the coldest glares will instantly transform after this small gesture.
Maybe that's why I don't feel the outsiderness as intensely as some other expats. I have my fair share of what-the-fuck moments -- don't get me wrong. And I have had some blatantly ludicrous things said straight to my face. But for the most part, I find Koreans to be immensely eager to make you feel like anything but an outsider. They want to share everything with you -- their food, their language, their families. On the whole, most people seem to recognize on a very real level that I am far from home, far from my family, and they seem to feel somehow responsible for it. I shouldn't be allowed to walk in the rain without an umbrella, and eating meager portions at lunch is unacceptable.
Mike and I were discussing the habit of some Koreans of babying foreigners when it comes to relatively simple things, like using chopsticks, reading prices or eating spicy food. Yes, it can be tiring at times. And it can, on worse days, make you feel even more outside. But it's not the intention -- I believe that -- and that's why I have seemingly infinite patience for it. The intention, much like a slightly overbearing mother, is to make sure you are not made to be uncomfortable, because they recognize that you are in a place that is strange and different to you. I find it infinitely easier to tolerate than the American attitude toward foreigners of "suck it up, figure it out, or leave". The vast majority of Koreans I have encountered seem to view me as something akin to a guest in their home. And they have been, on the whole, overwhelmingly gracious hosts.
5.06.2009
Settle.
So, yes. A bit of a proper update I suppose.
The high school boys. It all started when I took my camera out for a walk sometime late last week, and there were five or six of them outside the shop across the street from the beginning of the road leading up to my apartment. Every day I've walked past since, there have been more. Today when I walked past heaving an enormous bag of groceries and other various assorted crap from Homeplus-uh that proves I'm getting closer and closer to becoming a bonafied honorary Korean, the whole group moved out into the middle of the road, semi-blocking my path. They seem to still be a bit shy, and turned back to one (who was not visible, as he was ducking into a side alley) to beckon enthusiastically and tell him to bali and say something to me. There are now about thirty of them. Some of them were wearing street clothes, which is an unusual thing for students at that early of an hour in the afternoon. Somehow, I find it unsettling. And may need to plan a new route home.
That being said, I was slightly tempted to stop and make one of them carry my groceries up the massive hill. It's the least they could do after scaring the living shit out of me by suddenly tumbling out into my path from the alley like spilled marbles. After all, they are still haksaeng, and I am seonsaengnim.
I blame it on the third graders and my after school classes that my shyness about Confucian attitudes in this regard is slowly receding. The second graders, who have one English teacher who is young and a total pushover, and another who is a totally moronic old bat, don't like it very much. But the third graders treat me with just as much respect these days as any Korean teacher. All of their awkwardness with how to properly address the foreigner has completely disappeared -- and it is evident that it was awkwardness before that stopped them from bowing and greeting me in the hallway, etc. Now that we're familiar, it's just routine. And I've also quickly adapted the Korean habit of lecturing the students when they get out of hand.
Another foreign teacher, quite new, was asking how I control classes while we were in the car with both my main co-teacher and hers. I said, firstly, that I didn't really control the students -- mostly my co-teachers did. But Coteacher quickly jumped in and asserted that it was absolutely me who controlled my classes, and that she's seen me do an excellent job of it. But I still think it's mostly just that the third graders are a really good group, to begin with. Anyway, I said that I had noticed instantly upon arrival the Korean method of lecturing at length, and that, even though the students can't understand me, that's not the important part -- what you're really doing is giving them time to chill the fuck out and calm down when they've worked themselves into a fervor. Coteacher said I had hit the nail precisely on the head. It's the equivalent of mid-class meditation -- taking a deep breath and counting to ten.
At the weekend, Coteacher's sister said she had seen a foreign teacher at her daughters hagwon with a stick, and it had really shocked her. Sister had all kinds of strange, backassed ideas about foreigners and wasn't really shy about expressing them to me, but I won't get into that. Anyway, she had said that training horses requires one of two things -- a carrot or a whip. The West is full of carrots, but Korean students are used to whips. And when these two systems collide, it can be disastrous.
I agree. But myself, I've never really believed in either carrots or whips. Especially carrots, I guess. I was raised to believe that accomplishment was its own reward, as was honorable and respectful behavior. I was never handed twenty bucks for A's on my report card, nor do I believe I would have been punished for bad grades, had I received any.
I told Sister that I think the foreigner was probably using the stick as a symbol -- a symbol for something that can never really be achieved, and that is being fully recognized as the equivalent (not the equal) of a Korean teacher. I also told her that I thought we foreign teachers could get a lot closer by actually learning Korean, and being able to properly discipline in Korean. That, I believe, is really the biggest hope we have.
Of course, Sister doesn't really believe foreigners can learn Korean (they can't eat Korean food or sit on the floor either), so that idea was quickly dismissed.
Back to my second graders, I had one of my favorite classes today, but as the semester wears on, their behavior is getting more and more atrocious. And my standards for behavior are getting higher and higher. And that is seeing some serious clashes. The shy co-teacher looked as though she might cry as I called her class's attention for a short lecture (one after the bell had rang, the period just before lunch -- the most painful kind). One student decided to continue his conversation in Korean during my lecture, so I called him up to the front of the class to share with all of us. You like to talk, right? You have something to say? Well, I am a very kind teacher, as you know, so I don't want to interrupt. Here. You take the stage. Stand here, behind the podium. Okay. Share with us. Go on. What? Nothing to say, suddenly? Hm. Okay. Well don't say I didn't give you the chance.
Teacher so funny.
Meh. I know I'm expecting a lot out of both myself and my students. They aren't used to taking me seriously, and I'm not used to taking myself seriously. I think I have come a long way from stammering and stuttering in front of my first classes, nervous to be addressing more than four people at a time. It's going to take some time to work all of this out. As Coteacher explained to me, middle school is the time when being a Korean student stops being about just academics, and starts being about building character. It's part of the family vibe Korean schools have got going on here, which I quite like and admire. I'm not a homeroom teacher, and I'm not Korean, but I'm still going to have to learn to participate in the character building part of this whole scheme. If the Korean teachers aren't going to step up to the bat with the second graders, then that task is going to fall on me. Because one terribly behaved class is enough to drive me mad already, and the year isn't even half over. I'm not about to see this all go to pieces as the situation out in that crackerjack building mounts.
Hm. Lots of other, more personal things going on. But I don't feel like talking about any of that. That's my stuff. You'll have to settle for this, for now.
The high school boys. It all started when I took my camera out for a walk sometime late last week, and there were five or six of them outside the shop across the street from the beginning of the road leading up to my apartment. Every day I've walked past since, there have been more. Today when I walked past heaving an enormous bag of groceries and other various assorted crap from Homeplus-uh that proves I'm getting closer and closer to becoming a bonafied honorary Korean, the whole group moved out into the middle of the road, semi-blocking my path. They seem to still be a bit shy, and turned back to one (who was not visible, as he was ducking into a side alley) to beckon enthusiastically and tell him to bali and say something to me. There are now about thirty of them. Some of them were wearing street clothes, which is an unusual thing for students at that early of an hour in the afternoon. Somehow, I find it unsettling. And may need to plan a new route home.
That being said, I was slightly tempted to stop and make one of them carry my groceries up the massive hill. It's the least they could do after scaring the living shit out of me by suddenly tumbling out into my path from the alley like spilled marbles. After all, they are still haksaeng, and I am seonsaengnim.
I blame it on the third graders and my after school classes that my shyness about Confucian attitudes in this regard is slowly receding. The second graders, who have one English teacher who is young and a total pushover, and another who is a totally moronic old bat, don't like it very much. But the third graders treat me with just as much respect these days as any Korean teacher. All of their awkwardness with how to properly address the foreigner has completely disappeared -- and it is evident that it was awkwardness before that stopped them from bowing and greeting me in the hallway, etc. Now that we're familiar, it's just routine. And I've also quickly adapted the Korean habit of lecturing the students when they get out of hand.
Another foreign teacher, quite new, was asking how I control classes while we were in the car with both my main co-teacher and hers. I said, firstly, that I didn't really control the students -- mostly my co-teachers did. But Coteacher quickly jumped in and asserted that it was absolutely me who controlled my classes, and that she's seen me do an excellent job of it. But I still think it's mostly just that the third graders are a really good group, to begin with. Anyway, I said that I had noticed instantly upon arrival the Korean method of lecturing at length, and that, even though the students can't understand me, that's not the important part -- what you're really doing is giving them time to chill the fuck out and calm down when they've worked themselves into a fervor. Coteacher said I had hit the nail precisely on the head. It's the equivalent of mid-class meditation -- taking a deep breath and counting to ten.
At the weekend, Coteacher's sister said she had seen a foreign teacher at her daughters hagwon with a stick, and it had really shocked her. Sister had all kinds of strange, backassed ideas about foreigners and wasn't really shy about expressing them to me, but I won't get into that. Anyway, she had said that training horses requires one of two things -- a carrot or a whip. The West is full of carrots, but Korean students are used to whips. And when these two systems collide, it can be disastrous.
I agree. But myself, I've never really believed in either carrots or whips. Especially carrots, I guess. I was raised to believe that accomplishment was its own reward, as was honorable and respectful behavior. I was never handed twenty bucks for A's on my report card, nor do I believe I would have been punished for bad grades, had I received any.
I told Sister that I think the foreigner was probably using the stick as a symbol -- a symbol for something that can never really be achieved, and that is being fully recognized as the equivalent (not the equal) of a Korean teacher. I also told her that I thought we foreign teachers could get a lot closer by actually learning Korean, and being able to properly discipline in Korean. That, I believe, is really the biggest hope we have.
Of course, Sister doesn't really believe foreigners can learn Korean (they can't eat Korean food or sit on the floor either), so that idea was quickly dismissed.
Back to my second graders, I had one of my favorite classes today, but as the semester wears on, their behavior is getting more and more atrocious. And my standards for behavior are getting higher and higher. And that is seeing some serious clashes. The shy co-teacher looked as though she might cry as I called her class's attention for a short lecture (one after the bell had rang, the period just before lunch -- the most painful kind). One student decided to continue his conversation in Korean during my lecture, so I called him up to the front of the class to share with all of us. You like to talk, right? You have something to say? Well, I am a very kind teacher, as you know, so I don't want to interrupt. Here. You take the stage. Stand here, behind the podium. Okay. Share with us. Go on. What? Nothing to say, suddenly? Hm. Okay. Well don't say I didn't give you the chance.
Teacher so funny.
Meh. I know I'm expecting a lot out of both myself and my students. They aren't used to taking me seriously, and I'm not used to taking myself seriously. I think I have come a long way from stammering and stuttering in front of my first classes, nervous to be addressing more than four people at a time. It's going to take some time to work all of this out. As Coteacher explained to me, middle school is the time when being a Korean student stops being about just academics, and starts being about building character. It's part of the family vibe Korean schools have got going on here, which I quite like and admire. I'm not a homeroom teacher, and I'm not Korean, but I'm still going to have to learn to participate in the character building part of this whole scheme. If the Korean teachers aren't going to step up to the bat with the second graders, then that task is going to fall on me. Because one terribly behaved class is enough to drive me mad already, and the year isn't even half over. I'm not about to see this all go to pieces as the situation out in that crackerjack building mounts.
Hm. Lots of other, more personal things going on. But I don't feel like talking about any of that. That's my stuff. You'll have to settle for this, for now.
5.05.2009
Laying tracks.
As always after traveling, I have a lot to say and don't even know where to begin. So for now, I'll just keep it simple, claim I'll come back to it later, but I won't. I'll say this much: this is what happened in month seven....
I took it really, truly to heart. Something got inside in that kind of inevitable way. I started to lay tracks. I saw what Korea looks like naked and in the dark. I became Eemo to Jinwoo and Kyeongmin. I spent four days with a Korean family, and then decided to spend one more. I stayed a night at a mushroom farm, met a one month old baby calf, went to an oyster festival, a bamboo festival, a barley festival. I learned more Korean than I could ever have hoped to otherwise. I learned how to play Go Stop. I rode in the back of a truck down a dark farm road while four senior citizens sang Trot at the top of their lungs. I was the first foreigner some people had ever seen. I drank plum tea. I learned about Gwangju, and what happened there in May of 1980. I started to understand. I spent Buddha's Birthday at a temple -- a real temple, not the kind you visit with a camera. I sat through the services, ate the meal, learned to like ddeok. I drank wine from the province brought out for me especially and poured for me by a monk, in his private quarters. I was confronted again and again by how amazingly kind and open people can be to you, in their own reserved way, when they don't even speak your language.
I made a plan for the future, and decided that future will be here. I decided that it would be worth it to sacrifice an August vacation to take an intensive (and expensive) course in Korean, spend months adding the equivalent of a part time job to my schedule, so that I can be a part of this place in real way. So that Jinwoo and Kyeongmin can talk to me without translation the next time I see them. So that I can talk to my students. So that, eventually, I can move out of Incheon and go find out what it's like out there -- go and spend time with the people who are the equivalent of my brother, my mother, my grandparents.
Just a few for now.
Edit: see the rest here.
I took it really, truly to heart. Something got inside in that kind of inevitable way. I started to lay tracks. I saw what Korea looks like naked and in the dark. I became Eemo to Jinwoo and Kyeongmin. I spent four days with a Korean family, and then decided to spend one more. I stayed a night at a mushroom farm, met a one month old baby calf, went to an oyster festival, a bamboo festival, a barley festival. I learned more Korean than I could ever have hoped to otherwise. I learned how to play Go Stop. I rode in the back of a truck down a dark farm road while four senior citizens sang Trot at the top of their lungs. I was the first foreigner some people had ever seen. I drank plum tea. I learned about Gwangju, and what happened there in May of 1980. I started to understand. I spent Buddha's Birthday at a temple -- a real temple, not the kind you visit with a camera. I sat through the services, ate the meal, learned to like ddeok. I drank wine from the province brought out for me especially and poured for me by a monk, in his private quarters. I was confronted again and again by how amazingly kind and open people can be to you, in their own reserved way, when they don't even speak your language.
I made a plan for the future, and decided that future will be here. I decided that it would be worth it to sacrifice an August vacation to take an intensive (and expensive) course in Korean, spend months adding the equivalent of a part time job to my schedule, so that I can be a part of this place in real way. So that Jinwoo and Kyeongmin can talk to me without translation the next time I see them. So that I can talk to my students. So that, eventually, I can move out of Incheon and go find out what it's like out there -- go and spend time with the people who are the equivalent of my brother, my mother, my grandparents.
Just a few for now.
Edit: see the rest here.
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