Igo

A child just ran into my classroom, "Igo," handed me a cap to a black dry erase marker, "bye," and was gone. I think we are betrothed now.

Great moments in teaching...

For those of you who don't have facebook and don't get to see my fairly frequent updates about what is going on at school.

Interesting observations of the day: Ch1 of the grade 6 CD-Rom has a rather racist picture of a black kid. Secondly the new 5th grade English teacher thinks I am her bitch and just dropped 4 classes of grading on my desk to be ready by Tuesday.

"Teacher! You are just like Ariel!" Ooh, let's see where this goes. "Soon Prince Eric will fall in love with someone else! Not you! You have no voice." "Oh."

"Chyennipur, why you not eating the sausage." "It's moving of its own accord." "I am sorry, what?" "It isn't to my style."

"I have 4 children, how many do you have?" "Ummm, none." "Oh! But you are married! Why no children?" "I'm not married." "WHAT?!?!?!" I didn't even get to my puppy kicking and baby punching habit.

New volunteers from the university meet me at lunch, "Oh! You are eating Korean food!" "Yes I am." "But no westerners like it!" "Some do." "But it is too spicy for you!" "No, it's ok, I used to eat hot peppers out of the jar as a kid." "And you can use chopsticks!!!!" "I am made of magic." "Ooooh."

"Teacher, I have a question?" "Ok." Who is Simon?" "Huh?" "Simon says touch your toes, who is Simon?" "Oh! It is just a name we use because 'says' starts with an S and we like alliteration." "What is alliteration?" "One of my favorite things ever." "Ok, I like it too."

"Good morning Chyennipur! Today you look like the girl with the dog." Quizzical look on my face. "The one who killed that lady." Horrified look on my face. "She took the lady's shoes." "Oh! You mean Dorothy from Wizard of Oz?" "Yes, today you are her!"

"Teacher, teacher!!" "Hi!" Breathless student, "Hi! I remember your family name. You said yesterday." "Oh that's good, what is it?" "Hymen!" Then I died of laughter.

"Chyennipur teacher! I love you! Marry me!" "Ok, let's get married tomorrow." "Oh!" runs away.

"Teacher! I want to go to England to eat the national food of fish and chips and Indian food and David Beckam." "You want to eat David Beckam?" "Yes, oh, what?"

"I will use the fickle finger of fate to choose the next person." "Teacher! That is an alliteration!" Holy crap, they are retaining information!

"Did you break it?"

"No teacher! Bad magic! Bad magic break it!"

"What is your favorite day?" "My favorite day is Wednesday because I only have 3 academies to go to, and then tae kwan do, and then homework, and then I can take a rest." "Oh.... Um, and what is your favorite day (other student)" "My favorite day is Saturday because I can collect bugs." "Oh! Me too! We will be bug scientists!" "That's called an entomologist." "Oh, ok, I want to be that."

"What is your favorite day?" "I hate every day." "Why?" "Because days are stupid. I like night. I am a vampire. My English name is Edward." "Okie dokie Sparkle Vampire, what is your favorite night?"

"Don't kill each other!" "Hahaha, oh teacher, he MUST die!"

"A, no, no, B! No! Q!" "Ahhh, you make him dead!" "It's ok, we will just play agai.." Little boy looks at the little girl with murder in his eyes, "I hate you now. I want you die." "Um, it's just hangman. Say you are sorry." "I not sorry, I want her dead." "Ok, game over!"

"Chyennipur! Super model!" "Aw, thanksaaag!" As I get a slap on the back from the principal that sends me careening into the cafeteria door. Then, in line: You try! Korean hamburger! You try!!! As he shoves bulgogi wrapped in kimchee into my mouth. Good for you buddy, who needs rules of personal space or etiquette?

"Chyennipur Teacher, I want to clean your room today." "Oh, I think you have to wait two weeks until you are back in here to clean." "I am so sad." "Would it make you feel better to come over and clean my apartment?" "REALLY? I can?" "Ooooh, ummm, oh look, your class is leaving." There is going to be a 5th grader with a broom and dust pan waiting outside my apartment now.

Five Cities Three Days

I get to leave school early on Fridays because I work late a few nights a week and my school doesn't want to pay me extra. It works out nicely for me because I can go to the bank and post office, both of which close before I can get there on a normal day. I can then go home, take care of a few things, read: nap, and then head out. This past Friday was no different.

Friday afternoon I left school, walked home accompanied part of the way by two of my 6th grade students. It is normal for me to be accosted by students on my way home. I often feel like Snow White at Disney Land, with the kids flocking towards me. I rather like it, as it makes me feel important. At some point though I want to put in my earphones and just be alone for a bit. This particular Friday, in an effort to get some Jenn time, I handed the girls 1000 won and told them to get some candy. They took it and started to run off, only to be attacked by a wizened ajuma who, in perfect English, smacked them and shouted, "Say thank you!" The girls bowed profusely, said thank you, and then scampered into the store for their candy. The little old lady then turned to me and said, "So beautiful!" then went on her way. I love her now.

After paying some bills and ending up at home, I accidentally fell asleep for a few hours. Upon waking it was time to shower, throw on some new clothes and head to Gyeongju for a going away party. Gyeongju was city number one on my whirlwind adventure. Fun was had, Lizzi and Howard said goodbye to everyone, John sang, tears were shed, and then it was time to find a motel for the night. I ventured back towards the bus station thinking it would be easy to get a room. This is important: Because I thought it would be quick and easy, I did not use the bathroom before I left the bar. I entered the first motel and was greeted by a woman making an ex sign with her arms. In Korea this means no. Slightly crestfallen, I left and headed to the next nice looking motel. Cue the fail buzzer again. Number three was no better, and at this point my teeth hurt, I had to pee so badly. Motel number four was also a no go, and by number five I was near tears. Thankfully the little old man had a room for me. He looked a bit worried though and kept saying, "Ondol, ondol!" That meant I would be sleeping on the floor, traditional Korean style. I didn't care, as long as it had a toilet and a pillow... which it did. Ten minutes later I was greatly relieved and passed out on a heated mat on the floor.

Day two started with me waking up confused. Where was I and why was on the floor? Once that got sorted out in my head it was time to pack up my stuff and head back to the bus. I had to catch the 10am but to Busan, in order to meet Marie at 1pm. By some strange miracle I actually managed to be on the bus by 9:58am. Armed with water, a can of coffee, and some yogurt, I was ready to go. One hour long bus ride later I was in Busan, city number two. Another hour on the subway and I was in Marie's apartment. My efforts were well rewarded by getting to see Marie and her lovely South African goodies. Hmm, let me rephrase that. Marie recently went back to South Africa and brought me some candy. Well armed with chocolate we headed out for the next leg of the journey. Jinhae for the cherry blossom festival.

It turns out that Jinhae is a popular place to visit during the festival. According to one of my co teachers it is where the first cherry trees in Korea were planted. We had to wait next to something fairly malodorous (old food and gasoline maybe?) for about 20 minutes before being allowed on a bus. We were lucky though, we were able to get seats. Some others had to stand for the hour ride, one with a comically large decor plant.

In Jinhae I wanted to find a motel room right away, to avoid a replay of the night before. Once that was settled it was time to head to the festival itself. Into the crush of people we forged, found a stall, got some seats, and got lunch, Korean pancakes with green onions, other vegetables, and octopus. Pictures were taken of the trees and people. Marie kept expecting a bride to appear, walking through the almost entirely white trees. They were all fluffy and soft looking, like they had been frosted. The people were pretty interesting too, with couples, and sometimes whole families, dressing in matching outfits.

After we had our fill of sight seeing, we camped out in a coffee shop for what turned out to be about two hours. Marie eventually had to head back to Busan, so she handed me off to another friend who was in Jinhae and headed home. My friend and I had dinner, pork roasted on a spit over hot coals which nearly gave me a food orgasm, had a bit of a wander, and then called it a night.

Day three and time to head home. After breakfast my friend and I tried to take a cab to the bus station. Apparently the cab driver thought he could just drive us all the way back to Gyeongju. Nervous laughter and a couple of phone calls to Koreans later we were unceremoniously dropped at a bus terminal in Masan... not exactly where we planned to be. Luckily the ride afforded some more sight seeing and a funny story. Masan was city number 4. City number 5 was Daegu, otherwise known as the only bus we could get anywhere near our actual destination. From Daegu it was back to Gyeongju, and then home sweet home, Pohang.

So, that was my crazy weekend. Now it is time to put squid ink in my hair.

Stood up

I've been stood up. I rushed home, changed, cleaned up the apartment, and here I sit. Alone. Sad. Dirty clothing with no where to go. The washing machine repair man was supposed to be here at 7. It is now 9:30 and there is no repair man. He has forsaken me. He has forsaken my clothing. Now he says he won't come until Friday. I need him now! My life is meaningless without him. I have shit to wash!

I weep for my laundry.

Ham hocks and kasha

When I was little, I would ask my mom what was for dinner and would often get, "ham hocks and kasha." To this day I am still not entirely clear on what kasha is, other than some kind of grain thing from eastern Europe. Ham hocks are generally not eaten, unless you live in South Korea and buy yourself the sliced up leg of a pig. Here is a story about eating (probably) ham hocks.

Tonight was a Korean food night in the small studio of Miss Jennifer Harris. As she sat around, waiting for the washing machine repair man to show up (still hasn't, grrr), she thought to herself, "It sure would be a waste if I let that pig leg I bought yesterday just sit in the fridge. I wonder if the bok choi is still good as well," and a dinner was formed. From the feet of a pig to the Asian cabbage about to go off in her enormous refrigerator she cobbled together a meal. Using soy sauce, sirracha, and some oyster sauce she made the bok choi edible. The meat was a bit easier, requiring only a few minutes in the wok and some hoisin (imported from the US as it turns out). On to the plate they went, and then quickly into her mouth, as the taste was surprisingly good. Her taste buds were pleased with her efforts and danced a happy jig.

Now Jennifer sits on her bed, fondly reminiscing about her meal, sure in the knowledge that some elves are doing her dishes... and still waiting for that fucking repair man. Seriously, he was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago.

Teaching the Teachers

Korean culture is a delicate thing. I think I am given some leeway because I am western and don't know any better, but generally the social structure is rigid and unforgiving. Saying "I don't know," is seen as a weakness, especially in a teacher. Asking, "why," to a superior is rarely done. These aspects of society put me in a weird spot a few times a week as I settle in to teach the teachers at my school and in Pohang in general.

I am younger than all but one of the teachers in my school. I am younger than many of the teachers in Pohang. A few times a week I have to teach these same teachers English. At my school I spend much of class sitting there, being ignored by the older teachers, as they chat away in Korean. I hate teaching the beginner teachers as they are often terrible students. They refuse to talk, they refuse to listen, and they refuse to be called to order. One told me, earlier this week, that it was very difficult for her to learn English because I was younger than her and she wasn't sure it was right. Fine, I am younger and you are trained to think that I am not worth as much respect, but can we all agree that I speak English better than you and you signed up to take an English class? I am not sure why she, or any of the others, show up. I am not going to narc on them for skipping my class. I could be using that time to play scrabble online.I am hoping next week's lesson will be better, when I teach them cooking terminology.

The intermediate class is a little better. A friend of mine is in the class, as well as my co teacher and a teacher who I think views me as a fascinating pet. They talk very little, but they at least listen when I speak. I have decided to make their classes more fun by just teaching them slang. Last week the word was "cougar." This week the word was "jacked." My friend is my age and speaks English the best, the other two just stare at me. I think I fascinate them. I feel like some strange creature from another planet in their eyes. They look at me, and I think they see this humanoid who embodies every stereotype they have every heard about western culture, true or not. They have asked me if I own guns, if things they see in movies are true, and have intimated that my brothers are smarter than me simply because they are boys. I take it all with a grain of salt and a big pinch of different culture. I try to set them straight when I can, and the rest of the time, I just sort of smile and nod. They will never really listen to me because I am younger than them.

I also teach classes at the Middle School next door. I don't do it every day, but once or twice a week I go there to teach the Pohang teachers. I have only done a few, but here is what I have noticed: The older men don't respect me at all, the older women seem to pity me as I certainly can't take care of myself. The teachers closer to my age seem to want to be my friend, and two teachers who are younger than me look at me with such disdain, I want to knock their heads together like coconuts. Oh, and one asked me out. The older men in the class obviously see me as someone who is below them, and I am fairly certain they were forced to take the class. The older women also see me as below them, but they want to take care of me. A younger, unmarried woman is some for which you must feel sorry. She is lonely and needs to be married off as soon as possible. Most of the English they speak involves asking me about my love and personal life. Do I have a boyfriend? Can I cook? Am I lonely? The female teachers closer to my age want me to hang out with them. I think they are a little jealous of the freedoms the perceive western women to have. The two young men teachers who I want to bop on the head are just jerks. They remind me of my smug elementary school students.

I hear a screaming child in my stairwell which means it is time for me to close up shop and jump in the shower. Happy April Fools Day!