Why students should never know where their teacher lives

I spent last weekend fairly determined to do nothing productive or healthy. One of the consequences of traveling around the country to see the friends I hadn't seen in a while is that I was away from Cheongju and my remaining friends here for a few weeks. I got to miss them.


I went out Friday night. It wasn't anything too ridiculous or out of the norm; it was a normal Friday. Amanda and I went to Pearl Jam.

Pearl Jam is the homeliest of the handful of foreigner bars and it also serves the most decent food. This is something I do not know for sure as I have not indulged in any of the food at Buzz or MJ's, but Pearl Jam burritos trump Road King Burritos. These things become important to a guy.

We played Jenga until my burrito arrived. By the time I had finished my food (maybe 45 seconds after the plate was put before me; I was hungry and I had the shakes) we were joined by Gavin, Robyn, et al.

We drank, talked, and joked our way from Pearl Jam to MJ's.

The only thing I really like about MJ's is decent popcorn, and a 2 hour happy hour with 2,000won gin and tonics.

My opinion of the place rises in warm weather after the roof deck is opened and you can hangout in the fresh air above the city. The weather in Korea is warming up but the roof hasn't been cleaned and it still looks like it has been hit by a series of tornados.

I left in control of my senses at around 2am. Not too late all things considering. I could have gone to bed and woken up to a glorious gray and misty day and done something productive in the morning.

I didn't.

I went back to my apartment and played Xbox with my friends and drank some soju I had in my fridge. I went to sleep at 5am.

Still, not horrible.

What is horrible is being woken up by pounding on the door.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and decided to do nothing. The most serious thing at my door at the early hour of 1pm was a repair man or somebody else on official apartment business. The knocking came again. My apartment was a disaster anyway. I had been trying to get rid of things the past week and with the clothing and general clutter I looked like a hoarder.

Most likely scenario was the ever common Jehovah's Witness; a scenario I didn't really feel like dealing with. The worst case scenario would have been ---

"THOMAS TEACHER!"

Oh shit.

It was Ji-Huan.

Hearing his voice startled me, but there was no reason for me to be bothered. He knocked again and shouted my name, with the addition of "teacher" despite my current state of hiding, hungover, in my own filthy apartment waiting for a 10 year old to go away.

He shouted again.  Everytime the boy says my home, including in school, he says it with this manic crescendo at the end.  Usually I think it is funny.

Eventually I heard Ji-Huan begin to turn my door knob.  It was ever so slowly and subtly but it made a distinct sound. 

"That sneaky ... little... ohdeargod."  At this point I realize two things:

1.  I am butt-ass naked.
2.  I forgot to lock my door.

Several scenarios went through my head and none of them ended without one of us being traumatized or in jail.  I stopped breathing for a few seconds.  I might have prayed.  Anyway, in those few seconds I decided my only plan of action was, if he came in, to spring up with my blanket open and in front of me, wrap him up, and push him right back out the door.  With a bit of luck he would think it was part of a game and even if he didn't I was ok with the idea of Ji-Huan being a little confused for a few minutes.

To ruin the story he turned the handle and walked away. 

On Monday he told me that he came by to my apartment to visit and I told him I had no idea what he was talking about.

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Dragons, Guitars, and Christmas

Well, it’s belated but Merry Christmas! I meant to write a nice, if overly sentimental, entry on Christmas night about the difficulties of being away from home for the first time on Christmas. I had it planned all week but I couldn’t write it because I passed the hell out on my floor after being unable to keep my head up for prolonged amounts of time whilst skyping my family on their Christmas morning. Sometimes I even make myself proud.






A family photo- complete with that kid.



A week before Christmas:

We had the Christmas Pageant that my school had been rehearsing for since before Halloween. Every other day the youngest of the kids would have “Do Ray Me” blasted in the class followed by “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” As time wore on and I became more accepting of the fact that I would be spending Christmas sans family I came to appreciate the almost daily Christmas music. As it was in the beginning though, it really just bummed me out. On the rare day that I am feeling particularly glum, there is nothing that sinks that sword in than hearing my favorite Christmas Songs in the classrooms while I freeze my ass off in the teachers’ room.

Still, Halloween soon passed and then November and Thanksgiving and I came to look forward to popping my head into the classrooms. There were choreographed dances to every song. They were nothing overly complicated but that my coworkers built the sequences from the ground up AND taught the lyrics to the kids impressed me.

This video is pretty long.  The kids did awesome but it drags some. 

By far my favorite was Mariah Carey’s “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.” This song and dance number involved almost a dozen late elementary / early middle school girlss and a poor goofy middle school boy who happened to be in the wrong class at the wrong time. I would glance through the window from time to time and see the girls dancing and smiling and he would generally be looking suicidal while trying to jam himself in the corner.

There were a few plays. Hansel and Gretel with no girls. A story about a tiger who is freed from a net by a smaller animal. The tiger, of course, is guilty of take-backsies and says that he will eat his savior. The tiger agrees to go to various other animals that live in the jungle and asks whether or not it would be fair to eat the little animal. Jungle cow is pretty bitter about being made into car seats so he is all for some carnage. Jungle owl says the tiger is a moron and throws a net over him; or something like that.



Han putting tape on their noses.  This was
not as quiet as you might think.



Once December finally rolled around kids would come in and ask me to help them with their reading or pronunciation. A few groups of students were presenting readings or poems to the audience (all of their parents). Two of my nicer girls were doing a joint reading of Cinderella. I spent a few hours with them over the last few days before the pageant helping them read. My little friend, Clara, chose to read a horribly depressing story about an orphan, an abused dog, and a dying grandfather that seemed to take a good 20 minutes if she read quickly.

All in all though, that was pretty much the extent of my contribution to this whole Christmas Pageant. Not only that, but on Fridays a huge portion of my classes were given over to rehearsing which resulted me in having almost nothing to do with anything. I felt bad for a while. Then something happened and I didn’t feel bad anymore: I opened my big fat, stupid mouth.

I had bought a guitar a while back. At the time it seemed a sexy little acoustic number. It grew into a pretty standard, bordering on crap, mass produced guitar. Still, I had some fun with it. I had mentioned this to Han months ago. I might have even mentioned that I no longer fell into the “suck category,” or the “only knows 3 chords category.” I hope I didn’t give the impression that I was a remotely competent or consistent player. That would be a lie. So, I shouldn’t have been shocked when Han told me I would be playing “Puff the Magic Dragon” with one of her classes.

So, I learned “Puff.” Not a difficult song at all, but the difficulty for me lies in playing in front of others. I lose all confidence even in front of drunk friends. There is always some virtuoso making a mental note of my sloppy progressions and erratic tempo. I was pretty determined to do a good job, though, as this would be my only significant contribution to the pageant.

Our rehearsals went well. Most of the song has the same few chords and tempo. There are a couple of parts where it changes and another chord get’s tossed in but the class was ignoring it and I decided not to correct them. I began to have trouble keeping time. I am incapable of hanging onto a pick for more than 10 seconds so if I started with one there would inevitably be a big ol’ twang as it went flying off and everyone would look at me. Still, they are young kids (including the boy who brought in a super-realistic toy pistol) and they seemed to look at me like a rock-star with the tattoo and beard. Talk about a self-esteem boost.

Oh, pause. Forgot to mention I bought a second and genuinely amazing acoustic in Seoul for a fraction of the cost of my original. So, now I am the jerk with multiple guitars who can barely even play them. Again.

Anyway, time went on and it came to the days before the pageant. People began coming in on Saturdays to write cue-cards or rehearse. The boss’ wife and the Receptionist seem to have handmade all of the costumes (simple masks and several fabric Santa cape-things) and they had printed out photos I had taken of every kid in school.



"Santa Clause is Coming to Town" crew.



Somewhere along the line Han picked out the single worst Christmas tree I have ever seen. It had once been a pine tree, but somebody had not only taken off the firs, cut it into 3 sections and sold them individually, but it had also been spray painted black. For a month or so this thing sat in our main room so everyone could see it. Poor Han got ripped on a lot.

I came in on the Friday before the Saturday pageant (I now teach at a second school full of older kids who refuse to talk) to find the entire staff and their friends / brothers / boyfriends putting up Christmas decorations. They told me that I didn’t need to stay but I had none of it. Somewhere, despite committing to ignoring Christmas I was had by the spirit of it all. I might not be seeing any family this year, I thought, but dammit I am going to decorate the hell out of this school. So we did.

They had done most of the work before I had returned, but I clipped photos onto strings of light. In the end the school looked gorgeous. It was really a surprise! Even that damned little dumpster tree looked nice with ornaments and lights and pictures hanging from its shiny black dead branches. I went home feeling accomplished that Christmas had not entirely passed me by.

Back to a Week Before Christmas: Pageant Day and the Departure of Boram

I arrived to find the staff of my school making final additions and alterations to their plays. I sat my guitar in the office and tried to lend a hand but there wasn’t really much going on. I asked Haejin, the newer teacher, if she was excited and she replied with a “no, not really” which is understandable given that she had put in actual work while I sat there playing guitar. I asked the same thing to Boram and she said that she was trying not to cry and I remembered what I had been told a few days before.

Boram, the girl who sat in front of me when I had been picked up from the bus station; Boram, the girl who showed me around town and made me feel better about being away from home; Boram, my friend, was leaving today. Her family owns a restaurant in town. She had always known she was going to take it over. She was going there now to work permanently. I was sad. Boram took me to the hospital once saying to the others that she needed an injection for a cold but bought an anti-hangover drink. She scared the shit out of the kids and was our strongest defense against the worst kids. Despite that I constantly called her Boromir didn’t seem to bother her.

But, the show must go on.

Kids came, dressed in their finest. They separated to 3 waiting rooms running different movies on our projectors. Their parents streamed in, went through the 50433839 balloons, ignored me completely, and sat in the “auditorium.” Soon, Albert was speaking and chaos began.

There wasn’t more than 5 seconds between the different acts and that made things rushed. Kids had costumes to change, candles to light, etc. Further, most kids were in several different acts and they couldn’t always be found where they were supposed to. The parents saw poetry readings, the most adorable little kids doing various adorable things, Albert laughing and smiling. What they likely could hear were their kids getting shrieked at to stop picking their noses or to get in the line, all seasoned amply with obscenity.



Puff the Magic Dragon group.  As you can tell, they are bad-ass.
What you can't see is the booze or blow they are hiding.



I was trying to help. There wasn’t much I could do but maybe hit the back of Doctor Jones head or to wrestle them a little when they were in the movie rooms and I was bored. After a while though, as the “Puff” set was coming up, I started getting nervous. Nerves gave away to sheer panic and sweat and shakes. We went on ninth. I was standing in the corner with sweaty palms trying not to drop my guitar after tuning it for the fifth time. By the time we were on deck, I was standing behind a dozen smiling, laughing, impeccably dressed kids looking like I was about to add a new spin to the Christmas season by shot gun barfing on everyone’s kids. All this, and I was playing one easy song!



Finally, we walked in. Boy, there are a lot of people here. I remember thinking that, then sitting down and trying to set up my camera to record. I was really, really proud of all that we had done. We sounded pretty good when we practiced and a kid didn’t burp or something. There was nothing to worry about.

“Ok, go Tom!” said Han.

 (In regards to the video: sorry.  I was horrified.  If you don't notice, the camera is upside down.)

I remember nothing. I remember hitting the strings once. I remember shaking and feeling like I was going to barf on the kid standing next to me. At some point the kids stopped singing, people clapped; I got up and walked off. I eventually found my 9 year old band mates and they proceeded to tell me that it was horrible. Eventually, I found a quiet place to watch the most poorly shot video ever. Not bad, really. I remain proud.

The last few performances went on, including an AWESOME “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.” Really, it was awesome. I have all of the video second hand, but it was all shot in one take and I lack any software to cut it up. I’m working on it.

Once we had cleaned up a bit, we set out to BBQ. Here, many tears were shed amongst the girls for Boram’s last day. It was sad. The school is a different and more chaotic place without her. We were drunk by 8pm and proceeded on to a fairly raucous noraebang session.



Christmas

I spent Christmas with my Cheongju friends. I woke up hung-over from going out Christmas Eve. I made my own candy (Chunky Godfrey’s) and proceeded upstairs to my friend Amanda’s apartment which would be the setting for our Waygook Christmas.

What can I say?

It was a blast. Christmas has stood out as an important day in Korea since I arrived. I anticipated that I would spend it depressed and black-out drunk. While one of those things happened, I was not depressed.

There was food. A lot of food. Good food. Good drinks. Hot toddies, mulled wine (I think). “A Christmas Story” played on repeat for a long time and then “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” There were inappropriate stories, laughs, drinking. We were warm and comfortable while outside it began to snow.

Photo courtesy of Amanda C.  She is one of a few not pictured.

A white Christmas! In Korea! Who would have thought?

At a certain point my memory gets fuzzy. A short time after this, the memory is just gone. The group of us, Americans, an Irish guy, a New Zealander eventually found our way to noraebang where we sang stuff I no longer recall. I won a wallet at some point, or I stole it. Who knows?

At midnight the party ended and I floated in the holiday and whiskey warmth where I proceeded to, in this order: call my mom, realize I was incapable of keeping my head up or speaking with any coherency, barfing, brushing my teeth, passing out on my floor.

It was a great Christmas that I will never forget despite not remembering much of it.



New Years Eve

Copy Christmas / Paste / add Ricky and Lauren from Daejeon



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Concerning Children and the North

A few days ago I passed my One Month mark here in Korea. I will not say anything to the likes of “I never thought I would make it this far,” as that would be melodramatic and untrue. That being said, I never thought my first month abroad would go so smoothly. Homesickness has been negligible (owed majorly to the wonders of Skype) and teaching children my perverted knowledge of grammar has turned out to a heck of a lot more fun than I anticipated.

In the month that I have been here, my school has grown from 15 kids to 25. Classes are filling up (I have a class with 7 kids as opposed to a maximum of 3) and I am getting to know the kids a lot better. Also, I am becoming much less of blonde-haired enigma to them. A few of them, I would dare to say, don’t actively dislike me.

Rock, Scissors, Paper Boy (RSP Boy) has quickly become one of my favorites because he is so goofy and hyper that he has me cracking up at least once a day. His class has two other boys, all of whom seem to be friends. Each worksheet we give them become a race with correct answers always sacrificed in the name of speed. Most kids would look around with a silent satisfaction if they finished first, but he throws up his hand and shouts.

There are two kindergarten aged girls in the first class. The first calls herself Alice. She is adorable and tries so hard to understand English even if she doesn’t understand concepts. Everything spoken in English and aimed in her general direction is repeated with enthusiasm, whether you want it to be or not. Also in the class is a girl called Amy.

Amy might be the cutest little girl I have ever seen. This is what I thought for about a week. Currently, this girl is the biggest problem at the school. She will not repeat anything and generally won’t participate at all. When she feels like saying anything it comes out in the creaking voice that sounds like a possessed Danny Torrence in The Shining. And, her eyes, my god! This girl looks as though she is constantly trying to suffocate me with her mind. More than anybody, Angry Girl included, this girl straight up hates me.

There is a new group of young middle school students who come in for the last two classes of the night. They aren’t but a year older than the Three Monsters but the maturity gained in a year can be shocking. Where as most of the Three Monsters wear the same shirt every day of the week, each of these kids are impeccably dressed. Also, with the exception of two giddy girls who sit in the front (and routinely rob be of any gum I might have) nobody uses the class as a screaming match.

I can say that after a month in Korea I am much happier than I thought I would be and I am happy that I came here. But, alas, I have not been living beneath a blissful rock these past weeks and neither have you. Something wicked looms just above the smog of Seoul: North Korea.

As somebody who has followed the news of the world religiously for a VERY long time, I must say that this is a very interesting time to have come to Korea. A day into this sojourn I crossed over a symbolic bridge that beckoned for a united Korea but was flanked by the haunting faces of those that perished aboard the Cheonan. There was the façade of doubt and uncertainty then, but as of a few days ago that is all but gone.

How does one dumb down an extremely complicated situation? I don’t know. Han will make an occasional joke about my coming to Korea at a comically horrible time, but there is genuine fear mixed in. Sitting to lunch Boram admitted that in reality she was really scared that what is happening could lead to something very bad.

General consensus is that neither side would welcome open war as the results would be catastrophic for all parties. For the North war would be suicide, simple as that. Kim Jong Il and his propaganda machine aside, the North is a shamble of a country made up of a population that knows nothing but bad times. The South, much of which lies within artillery range, would be brought back to a time that they do not want to return to. It wasn’t so long ago that the Peace Corps was here and as Larry points out South Korea has come extremely far in a short time frame.

Still, there is no telling when a lunatic will finally crack and turn the South into a “sea of flames.” Earlier today the South Korean Navy began firing artillery and dropping anti-sub charges in a show of readiness. Soon, the US Navy will join them in a demonstration of brute force so as to scare the North into common sense. Earlier today, Kim Jong Il rendered an agreement to avoid trite naval clashes null and void. The North will now fire upon any ship that passes into their disputed waters.

Four North Korean submarines have vanished from radar and their whereabouts are unknown. Optimists remind us that tensions have been high before without any dire results. Pessimists point out that things have escalated beyond the norm and either Kim Jong Il will lose face and retreat or the man who was irrational before his stroke might do something rash. Posters on news forums want the nukes to fly and let the Koreas deal with their own problems.

“Dear Leader” is again in the crosshairs of the civilized world and he could be soon to lose the only “friend” he has: China. China has announced that after their own investigation they will condemn the nation that sank the Cheonan, whether or not that announcement will bring turmoil to its own border.

As it is, the South has begun to blast their own propaganda over the DMZ and will soon erect billboards whose purpose is to draw those that they might away from the cause of a dying homicidal maniac. To this, the North has promised to open fire on any billboard or loudspeaker in the DMZ.

So, I sit and watch like the rest of the world because I don’t understand it all and anyway there is nothing else to do. That being said I have decided to register with the US State Department. I’ve seen Cloverfield; I wouldn’t last a second on my own.

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Wandering, Part One

My second Wednesday was a holiday: Kids Day. It is a nice concept now isn’t it? Once a year Korean kids are given the day off from school to presumably be doted on by mom and dad. I asked one of my students, a really bubbly girl who is called Clara, what she would be doing on Kids Day.

“I will be…. Studying!” Crazy Koreans.

After Kids Day, students would return to school and celebrate Parents Day on Saturday. Here, they would presumably worship mom and dad for their praise on Kids Day; or at least they would be less pains-in-the-asses.

A Korean construction site.

I spent my Kids day determined explore at least a tiny bit of Cheongju. I was also determined not to lose my way as I had yet to change the rest of my money and was down to my last 8000W (about $8) which I was hoping to spend on a dinner that didn’t involve rice ramen. Therefore I became the foreigner drawing a map on a piece of cardboard at every intersection.

A word on food. Everything here is fresh as fresh can be. Even the convenience stores that sell pre-wrapped meals sell fresh food. My hunger has gotten the best of me in the States and I have been doomed to spending a good chunk of days on the toilet, but that does not seem to be the case here.

Take Kimbap for an example. The convenience store variety consists of a triangle of sticky-rice, a little bit of sauce and topping, all wrapped in a dried sheet of seaweed. Pop it in the microwave for twenty seconds (or just hit any button and count to twenty as no microwave here seems to have roman numbers) and you have yourself a solid snack. Really, these things are amazing! You run the risk of getting something you don’t particularly want if you cannot read Hangul and some companies vary on their color coating a little bit. Red seems to be beef. Yellow was not chicken. I do not know what the hell yellow was but it was not chicken.

I digress. I walked out of the side street of my apartment and school and decided to go left. I do not know what direction it really was, but I was in a lefty sort of mood so that is where I went.

After a few blocks, the hustle and general chaos of my little urban neighborhood gave away to quieter, if a bit dirtier, streets. I passed a heap of junked scooters and a store selling Buddhist statues and shrines made of bronze. Restaurants became more traditional, exchanging bar stools and whiskey signs for floor mats and shoe cubbies. The people too seemed to change, if in fact people can change within blocks. There were fewer kids and teens walking about. What children there were clung near by their parents who poked out of a shop for a cigarette. Every now and again I would pass a stooped old woman as she walked past me in the opposite direction.

I walked for a good mile or more before I came to a great intersection at which I stood for too long waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. I crossed a large bridge and saw that below a river was running. I marked a bridge and the river on my map and found stairs onto the walk way.

The path around the river was pretty clearly marked. There were two lanes for bikes going in either direction and one lane for people on foot. That being said I played a few games of chicken as old men with sour looks seemed intent on running me down head on.

The path is surrounded by reeds, rocks and speakers pretending to be rocks. It was nice to see the green and brown, and to hear the river running next to me. The Cheongju that I have seen seems to be one of grey, neon and smog; the river and reeds seem only to be an oasis in chaos.

The plaque before the Unity Bridge
of Cheongju.

I walked beneath a couple of bridges (and marked them on my map) that shaded old men playing croquet on flattened square courses. They reminded me of the old Italians playing Bocce at the victory club back home. Both seem to be unaware of the day and neither seem to ever be anything more than vaguely pissed off at something.

Off in the distance I saw the red and blue spine of the Unity Bridge. Ah! This would be my destination of the day. I marked it on my map, pocketed the cardboard and kept on my way.

The place was hopping much like it was on that second day. If anything, the place was even more chaotic with families walking or riding about for Kids Day. Still, if you are as red as I am or as blonde as I am or as monstrous in size as I am people tend to get out of your way; it’s easier for them to stare if they are off to the side.

I meandered across the bridge, back and down to the fountains to take a few photos. At every hose it seemed there was a family. At every other hose there was a kid trying to stick his face in the jets and a parent screaming at him.

The Unity Bridge of Cheongju.

The skating rink was a mess. I couldn’t figure out where to safely make a few shots as every now and again one of the older guys would decide they didn’t want to ride with anyone and would b-line it in my general direction. Finally, I simply found a step further to the back and watched.

Koreans love those screwed up bikes that nobody in the States would be caught dead on. Hell, they probably still love pocket-bikes. The wheels were often tiny, or one would be giant giving them the look of the bicycles of old. I saw a grown man riding a tricycle with two front wheels and one back. In his defense, he didn’t seem to know how the hell to operate the thing. I saw those odd scooters where you hold the handle bar and pump in either direction with your feet on two separate bars. I saw a girl on roller blades trying to use one. Talk about multitasking.

The Rock Formation.

On my way back I passed a massive stone structure that seemed significant and meaningful, but my Kimbap had worn off and I didn’t care anymore.

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By the time I got home it was well past dinner time, I was tired and I would have been sweaty if the sun hadn’t baked it all off of me. My stomach groaned as I walked the streets near my apartment looking for something of substance that I could order without looking like an utter moron. I tend to go for things with pictures of food on the wall as my pointing skills are not lost in translation. Then I found what I was looking for.

Pizza Manu.

Koreans love pizza. They love strange toppings like sweet potato, hot dog, mayonnaise and any number of other things. I am spoiled when it comes to pizza. I have had pizza in Manhattan in the middle of the night and I have feasted on deep dish in downtown Chicago; but I am eternally bound to Village Pizza in Shrewsbury.

A collection of junked scooters.

By American standards Pizza Manu is actually pretty horrible if you are craving good pizza. For one thing, their dough has less flavor than Dominoes, their sauce might actually be ketchup and there are no brick ovens here. Instead, I watched as my pizza was put onto a conveyor belt that ran beneath a heater and came out five minutes later. The pie was then put into a box and wrapped with a red bow, I shit you not.

As much as I complain here, I ran home to eat the thing. I plopped onto my floor and turned my music on, opened the box and found a surprise! It was a little dish of what must have been garlic or marinara sauce. I opened it, more excited than I should have been about something to dip my crust into.

Pickles. I am in Korea, of course they will give you pickles with your pizza. Hungry I was, though, and the pickles were a nice break between slices.

Spending 6000W of my last 8000W was acceptable. What isn’t so acceptable is the fact that I ate the entire damned pizza. Not only did I eat the entire damned pizza but I did so in less than half an hour.

So, incapable of moving more than a few inches for the rest of the night, I sat on my bed with my computer editing photos. The photo software on my netbook is no Photoshop to be sure and has some kinks (there is no option to crop with a photo ratio and the auto-leveling is pretty friggin horrible) but it was free. As much as I bitched about all of the time I spent editing at home and for work it is actually something that puts my mind at ease. All was right with the world.

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Kids and Blood

The first week of real life (or as close as you can come to it) is nothing but a blur with peaks of excitement and valleys of total fear. Albert picked me up each day so I could arrive at the 1pm starting time. The earliest he ever arrived was around 2pm.

Each day he said the same, “Thomas, I am very sorry. I am very tired from drinking.”

Often left in my room with nothing but The Hobbit to occupy my time. I would have played solitaire on my computer but it was having trouble holding a charge and I was beginning to stress as it would be my main means of communication with home. It was during these mornings of idleness that I felt bits of homesickness and the twangs of melancholy.

The school is something to see but would be hell for a migraine sufferer. The walls are all neon green, orange and yellow. The glass doors slide open with the touch of a button and a trekkie wush! which is supremely satisfying. There is a wide open reception area with two giant flat screen televisions! There are four classrooms, one of which being a computer room with several very fancy computers with Skullcandy headphones. Each room is equipped with a Smart Board and speaker system. The teacher’s office is a tiny little room with strange angles and two computers. This is my favorite place to be.

In this office is Han, myself and another girl whose name I forgot because I am an ass. In a week the other girl would be leaving to pursue her major and I would be taking over her computer. Boram sits at the computer in the reception, next to the receptionist, a funny lady who finds it absolutely hilarious when I try to say anything in Korean. There is another girl as well, a younger receptionist, who turns up at random points in the day. What she actually does at the school I can not say.

My first week involved standing next to a proper teacher and reading passages of The Little Mermaid (the original version in which Ariel actually dies and becomes foam in the sea, to little kids who would then repeat what I had said back to me. There is not much to mention here as this is the extent to which I have taught. I don’t talk to kids, I talk at them.

I did, however, meet the three boys. If they weren’t so hilarious they would have been kicked out of school a long time ago.

I stood next to Han and watched the Little Mermaid Lesson go from simple recital to one or all of the boys standing up and punching each other, dancing or simply opening the classroom door and running away. At one point, all stood up and switched seats. If you try to give them a quiz, they will cheat. Try and stop one of them and the other two will just walk out the door while you are not looking. Bad teacher that I am, I can’t help but laugh.

This happened a good deal later (I am a week behind in this thing and am trying to get caught up for when I have the net) but it is related. I was standing in the room before Boram came in to teach and I watched the goofier of the three boys manage to tie his hands together with balloon ribbon. Take it to mind that I watched this and did nothing about it. When Boram walked in ready to teach he tried to take the papers he was given and write on them but he had somehow made some pretty solid handcuffs and could not move one hand without the other more than 3 inches away. Finally, Boram got pissed off and had to cut them off with scissors. I, meanwhile, could not stop laughing.

One morning, instead of taking me to school Albert took me to the hospital. I knew this was coming but I didn’t much appreciate being hoodwinked. Here, I was given my check-up to complete my paperwork. We started off with an x-ray of my chest. From there we followed a line on the ground to a room where I was weighed, measured and given a blood pressure test. Another line led us to a room where they would take some blood.

The first attempt to find a vein did not work. The young guy, perhaps an intern or some kind of psycho, asked if I felt faint and then tried again. Despite his efforts of simply wiggling the needle around he couldn’t get any blood to come shooting out like he obviously wanted to see. At this point the called over a girl who took her turn at jabbing me and tried to make small talk about the Red Sox.

“Success!” she said like she had just won a carnival game.

After this I had to pee in a cup and try and hold swabs on my arm to keep blood from getting on my work shirt all at the same time. After which I put the cup in the wrong place and had to watch my boss walk around with a cup of my piss for a while until he got it all sorted out.

Eventually he bought me food and I told him that we were almost even for the stabbing and the blood on my shirt.

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