Drool



Until recently, there was a class of three boys at my school. They called themselves Simpson, Kai, and Bell. They were known collectively amongst the teachers as the Three Monsters. When they were together they were impossible to manage without screaming at them or calling in for reinforcements. Nobody gave them homework because they wouldn't do it. Options were limited because they threatened to quit the school if separated.

So, it each day it was a lesson in what a king might feel if his subjects decided suddenly to become anarchists and criminally insane at the same time. They are no older than 13.

Crazy as they were, I did not hate this class. It was slow going, for sure; it took me 10 times longer to teach them anything because I would spend half the time begging them to stop talking / calling me tomato / having hair fights, but they were often funny.

They are all goofy and that is what wins me over. One of them is a bit more malicious and another is a bit more clever but they have this absurd way about them that makes me laugh, even when they are obviously insulting me.

Hair fights are pretty popular with them. I have mentioned this activity before, but it is when you pull out a strand of hair and stretch it out against another person’s hair- first broken hair is a loser. It is perhaps the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. When they bore of deciding who goes first with Rock, Paper, Scissors they will shout “hair fight!” and then start pulling out hair until they get a good piece.

Anyway, they were finally separated with our switch to 50 minute classes and nobody quit. Two of them are still together but they are thankfully much more subdued with the breaking of their unholy trinity.

This is a story about Simpson. I have been here for nearly a year and I have only seen him wear two different pairs of sweat pants. Usually he wears blue, but sometimes gray. When we were learning “what is he wearing?” his partner would always say he was wearing the same thing he always wear. He also seems to own approximately 4 shirts that he wears on a weekly basis.

Of the three he is the goofiest and seems to be less evil than the others. He often answers in a variety of voices. Once he tied his hands together with some string and had to be cut free. He is awesome.

A couple of days ago he came into class saying that he had been sick. No, he didn’t say that. I asked him why he was tired and he pretended to projectile barf on the floor. Throughout the class he kept falling asleep. I would see his eyes roll up, his head would go down, and then he would jerk back awake.

It was funny. Once, when he was out for a few seconds I did a monster impression and scared the hell out of him. He then looked at me like I had just punched his mom.

He then put his head down and drifted off again. I tried to stop him and keep him in the conversation we were having but he just turned his head to the other side.

He was out cold. I kept asking him questions and he just lay there slumped on his desk. He was not faking.

So, I decided to let him sleep. It was just a review class anyway and this kid looked like he was dead.

I played a game with the other student. It wasn’t even an English game. At one point I took down the clock and we tried to convince Simpson that he had slept for hours but it didn’t work. Finally, right at the end of class he sat up and tried to look natural as though he hadn’t been sleeping. The strand of drool was running down his mouth, onto his shirt which fell past the pool on his desk and on its way to the drool on his pants. He tried to wipe it but soon saw the sheer volume of it on the desk and his pants. He looked around and saw the two of us staring at him laughing.

I then made him wipe it all up. It took two tissues.

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Sundays

Another week gone by and another week closer to the end of this whole Korea thing. Earlier this week I received all of my pension information from my boss. I couldn’t make much out of it and the amount that has been paid into it seems to be out of date (at least, I sure hope it is out of ) but it told me how to go about getting my money when I leave.


Things are getting a little sad in Cheongju. My friends all arrived around the same time a couple of months before I did and they are all leaving in about a month. Amanda is staying another year and there are a few other people who came after I did, but most of the people I spend the bulk of my weekends with will be gone soon.

Ah, such is life.

Today is Sunday. It is about 9pm. I have to go into work Monday and Tuesday but then I will be on vacation until Monday. With Intensives, poor sleeping abilities, trying to get my portfolio back in order, I am really looking forward to some time off. The occasion is that it is the Lunar New Year. Koreans use this time to go to the home villages of their parents and grandparents. Just like the Chuseok holiday I couldn’t really get much about the traditions of this holiday out of my students.

Accordingly, apparently my kids are going to eat all of grandma’s Mandu-rice cake-soup and steal all of her money. They might wear some fancy Hanboks, though.

My plan is to head to the big mountain, Seoraksan, in the north-east with Rick and Lauren and try to make it to the top. It is no Everest or K2, but it’s a mile vertical anyway, so who knows if we will get all the way to the Summit, but I am going to give it a go. We will spend a couple of nights there before heading back. In my mind it is going to be awesome. Realistically, everything will probably be closed as it was on Chuseok so it will likely be a giant disaster. Oh well.

It seems that I have a firmly established routine on Sundays. I really do not know why given that it is totally unproductive and ends in me spending too much money, but it has become a solid part of my week:



8am- My alarm goes off. I have not woken up at 8am in months. I set this so that I wake up, realize how lucky I am to not have to be into work until 1pm. I then promptly go back to sleep.

12pm- Usually I am reasonably conscious by now. Now, remember, I am writing about Sundays in Korea. The thing with Sundays in Korea is that Saturdays in Korea routinely spill into Sundays in Korea. So, despite being conscious I rarely move. At the most, I might rotate my pillow if I happened to drool in my drunken sleep.

1pm- Think about getting out of bed. Actually, this is an inaccurate wording. This is more accurate: think about getting out of my floor mat. Usually, this is just a bluff.

1:15pm- Realize I am hungry.

1:16 - 1:30pm- Think about what I want to accomplish during the day. Realize that none of it will happen.

2pm- Finish my meal at Burger King.

2:15 - 3:15pm- Walk around Home Plus like a zombie.

That is basically a long way of saying that I spend too much time at Home Plus. This doesn’t really surprise me so much as it makes me worried. On days when I was really bored at home I would sometimes walk around Target. I would generally buy absolutely nothing. I am worried that I am predestined to become a routine part of the mall-walking circuit.

I never bought anything at Target largely because I was flat broke. Now, I am not flat broke. I have become one of those clichéd people who goes to the store for one thing (usually salsa) and walk out with 80 bucks worth of junk.

Now, every Sunday I do the same song and dance at Home Plus: buy salsa, fake pizza cheese, and tortilla chips. I start off on the first floor which is home goods. I like to look at the cameras and the fancy rice cookers. In the beginning of the year I thought about buying a small toaster oven so I could make food that doesn’t involve my pot or frying pan. Now, I have managed to stop myself from making any purchases that can’t be eaten by me as I do not have a very long time left in Korea.
Things I have bought in the home department:

Steaming rack

Floor sleeping mat

Shoe rods that don’t work

Christmas tree (aprox 6 inches)

2 pairs of jeans that I didn’t bother to try on (take that mom)

A Walther PPK BB-Gun (with a silencer).

Then I go down the escalator ramp to the food section. In order to get a huge number of shopping carts to the food floor the employees send them down the escalators in big groups. They become stationary on the ramp and are received by an employee at the bottom who quickly pulls them out of the way. Now, I have seen a few people almost get wrecked when their individual carts get stuck when the escalator ends and the floor begins. Always, I get stuck between two groups of carts and fear for my life enough to formulate an escape plan if the set of carts in front of me. I do not plan on dying via a shopping cart sandwich.

The food floor in Home Plus is almost always ridiculously crowded with people and their carts.

Usually, I am in a good mood until I get to the food floor. I usually walk around the produce and meat departments to see if anything pops out. I don’t usually buy too much food as I eat at school, but sometimes I like to mix it up. Last Sunday I had tacos.

The problem with Home Plus is the aisles. They are smaller than aisles at home and they are also a lot fuller. I often try to walk up and down the aisles looking for snacks but I usually only make it threw a handful before I start getting flustered.

I do not know if it is because of the narrow aisles or something else, but Korean shoppers have this tendency of just stopping in clusters in the middle of an aisle. If I could make eye contact with them or even get them to look at me without making an idiot of myself I would just scoot by. Often times they stop in groups big enough to make the passage into a dead end. So, I go to the next aisle and hope it has not already been sealed.

Within 10 minutes of trying to simply get to the other side of the store my mission of buying snacks turns into a mission of buying salsa and then getting the heck on out of there. As it is, I usually spend a lot of time swearing at everybody beneath my breath.

After this I go home, clean my apartment, eat and then wonder why I can’t fall asleep after sleeping until almost 2pm.

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Insomnia

If you notice that my entries are more spread out, then that is because my life is pretty much occupied. Intensives are ridiculous. I have heard of some people who have it worse than I do (majorly extended days) but compared to my regular schedule it is pretty horrendous.


I have failed to adequately mention my new school. Each Friday I eat a rushed dinner and am outside waiting for a school bus to pick me up at 6:45pm. I would have mentioned that it has been freezing here (it has) but given that temps at home are reading somewhere around -20f with a wind-chill in the  -50’s with a good 4 feet of snow I will save it.

Anyway, I get on the bus full of kids try to squeeze my legs into the seat. There is a TV on the bus which is good because nobody talks to me. This does not change when I have them in class, either.

So, I walk up a couple of flights of stairs with a bunch of kids (late middle school - early high school) until I come to Albert’s other school. The way you can tell if a school is Albert’s is that they seem to always have his face staring at you somewhere on the walls. In my school there is an enormous charectiature of Albert and Kim Hak Su; I imagine that soon Kim will be painted over. At his middle school, a TV is playing his old TV series. In it he has spiked hair and an orange dress shirt. You can’t hear what he is saying (he is usually overpowered by Korean Spongebob on the TV next to him) but he seems to be shouting it at the camera like a smiling maniac. Sometimes he claps his hands. I asked Albert if he is famous, once. He told me that the channel went bankrupt shortly after his program began to air.

At this class I teach a couple of 45 minute classes. They are meant to be conversation classes. The format, until a couple of weeks ago, was to read a quick article about something and then ask the students questions about the article. There are around 30 kids in the bigger of the two classes so I have to make sure there is enough depth to the article without it being too hard. Every week I tell them and Hae Jin, who sits off to the side, yells at them, to answer in full sentences. This never happens.

Recently we switched the format so that we would read the article and then I would ask them questions semi-related to the article. For example, An article about a zoo might warrant something like “What is your favorite animal? Why? Do you like zoos? Why?” etc. Of course, you have to have several alternate sets of questions for the jerks who say they hate everything to get out of answering.

Frankly, we realize reading the actual article is pretty pointless but it eats time. I can sympathize with these kids not wanting to talk, but I become hyper aware of myself standing in front of them when everyone is staring at me silently. Generally, I have to try to explain the vocabulary in simple English and I look and sound like a babbling moron. It is basically a bad 45 minute speech class every week. Also a couple of kids routinely fall asleep.

So, this Friday we are switching to free conversation because even I am bored. It will probably be a nightmare, but oh well.



The past few weeks I have not been feeling too well. I have felt run down. Emotionally, I am happy and chipper an all that but I have been fatigued. My sleeping schedule has been off. Part of this is because I feel no need to go to sleep at a decent hour when I can just wake up at 12:45 and go to school.

So, basically, that is what I have been doing. At night I either write, read, watch TV or work on a website I am making. Some days I am up until 3 or 4am without even thinking about it. Of course, the next day I wake up dead and the thought of waking up with a little extra time does not even cross my mind.

I have also had some moderate insomnia here. It has been pretty consistent but it was nothing that really bothered me too much. I would just lay on my floor mat and stare at the ceiling until 6 or 7am and then fall asleep until I had to go to school.

Not counting insomnia I can’t explain, I basically destroyed my internal clock every weekend. Friday and Saturday are pretty consistently long nights at the bar or the hookah lounge or elsewhere. So, two consecutive nights of going to sleep at 4 or 5am pretty much cancel out any hope of sleeping on Sunday nights.

Anyway, like I said, the past few weeks have been rough as far as maintaining a decent energy level. I couldn’t tell if I was burning myself out by staying up so late and then sleeping so late, whether it was school, or all of this extra stuff I am trying to do and figure out (money / writing / website / Russia / etc).

Anyway, last week I woke up and felt off. I felt crappy enough to call into work and spend the day laying around like a vegetable who is pretty awesome at video games.

When a class of kids came by to visit me / steal my food and I had to hide old beer cans in my freezer you would think that one solution was pretty obvious, anyway.

Since then, my sleep has been way off. With that my ambition went away too. I guess I shouldn’t blame my writing consistency on being too busy, so much as being burnt out. Last Sunday night I laid down to bed and didn’t sleep. It wasn’t an issue of falling asleep at 8 or 9am- I just never fell asleep.

I went to school and managed to function.

I had mentioned my problems sleeping before and Han brought me to the hospital to get some medication to help me sleep. I went home that night with 15 white tablets with no label whatsoever.

Being that I was exhausted I didn’t bother taking one. Also, I don’t like taking pills that I don’t know. Hell, the doctor could be waiting outside waiting for me to eat his roofie.

At 4 am I realized I was screwed. I wasn’t going to suck it up and take a pill and be groggy and hung-over all day. So, I sat there waiting to fall asleep until my alarm went off and told me that Tuesday was going to be an epic sort of horrible day.

I do not recommend teaching 11 classes back to back after close to 72 hours with no sleep.

Eventually I found the name of the pharmaceutical company and figured out that I had been prescribed Ambien. This wasn’t really easy given that pill imprints from asian pharmaceuticals aren’t really categorized on English sites.

So, last night I took one. After watching a pile of close pulsate and my mini Christmas tree thickenning and thinning for a while, I fell asleep. Ambien is awesome.

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Updates

So, what’s the story morning-glory? What’s new?


I am behind on all things Korea as far as this here blog is concerned. Generally speaking, most of my friends are also Facebook friends (I wouldn’t dare call somebody a rare friend if Facebook didn’t confirm this fact) and know what’s up with the state of things. There are a number of people with whom (or who, I don’t know) I speak pretty much daily. These people also know more of my activities than is necessary. So, this pretty much for people who aren’t subjected to my Facebook status messages.

What’s gone on since I have been back in Korea and since Kelly has been back at old Plymouth Rock? A bunch.

I returned to find the basic daily happenings of my school had all changed. We no longer give out stickers. This is a good thing in that I don’t have to finish a class with a minute to spare and then have a bunch of kids sacking me at the door and demanding 3 stickers a pop that I had yet to put my official signature on. This also sucked for a while because I had to use this Chinese tally character and mark how many points each kid earned in the class. This was a problem because it required me to know all of my kids’ names. This is something I struggle with still to this day. I am horrible with names anyway, forget throwing in names with sounds I can barely pronounce. So, I know a lot more names than I did a month ago. If I come to a class whose names I am still screwing up I tend to give everyone 4 points and call it even.

I had slow days Mondays and Wednesdays until Han went and annoyed Minnie and Daniels mother by telling her that she thought Daniel maybe copied his homework out of a book instead of doing it on his own. Not a big deal, really. Obviously their Mom flipped her lid and pulled them both out of the school. I was actually pretty sad to hear that Minnie was gone. She was difficult sometimes (often) and she was remarkably clever about sidetracking me and I was stunningly passive about getting back on track, but I thought of her as my student more than anyone else. I taught her every day and put a lot of care into not driving her insane and running her into the ground.

So, I had slow Mondays and Wednesdays before; now I basically do nothing. My class load is evened out by getting slammed on Tuesday’s and Thursdays (plus an extra hour of tutoring) and teaching at a second school on Friday nights.

I dread Tuesdays and Thursdays way more than I should. I have a couple of “bad” classes (in that the kids sort of drive me mad and often make it their goal to make me yell) but after that I deal with the older, generally more subdued, kids. It just tends to drag on. The tutoring is no big deal, really. I tutor the Receptionist and the Driver (formerly known as the Younger Receptionist: apparently she was our bus driver). It is difficult though in that I have zero confidence in my true teaching abilities. Usually I can win kids over by making funny noises with my eye or subdue them with my spray bottle. I can’t very well spray the receptionist and expect to live. And anyway, there are times when I am teaching kids that I just go blank for a moment or forget what I was talking about. The kids never notice because it is unlikely they were paying much attention anyway or it adds a little “natural” conversation into those classes. When I blank out with the adults it is pretty frigging obvious I just had a mental fart.



Dr. Jones and his hat.



There was a little spat with North Korea. I feel like a moron for always being behind in this thing when something other than Dr. Jones wearing a “mother fucker” hat but that’s what happens when you are lazy. I went to the bar with some friends to celebrate my buddy Tim’s birthday and the place was dead and the only TV had the barkeeps hovering around it wondering what the president was going to say about it. It could have also been dead because it was a Tuesday or something. Anyway, after it all happened the course of action depended on who you talked to. A lot of people (a lot of Koreans) said “oh, big deal, they do this all the time.” Then there were a few people who were actually pretty concerned about war. As time has passed it seems to be a little bit of both that has become the reality. North Korea basically got a giant “WTF” from the South. During and after the funerals though the Korean Marines were calling for blood and the general populous seemed to be pretty much through with putting up with violence and “provocations” by the North as a means of extorting aid and calls for diplomatic discussions. So, there have been a bunch of military drills and preventative measures incase of any future attacks. Maybe it is that civilians were in the line of an open attack but it seems that the next time the North does anything of the like again it could get real serious real fast. The new Defense Minister is promising an air strike to counter any further incidents and who knows how the North would react to that. They had evacuation drills in Seoul yesterday complete with fighter jets to add to the “oh shit” feeling.

The holidays are here. Ordinarily I am like a little child at this time of the year but I am not so this year. This will be my first Christmas not with my family and it is a little rough. It is a little rough for all of us here, I imagine, which is nice because I like not suffering alone; but communal misery isn’t a replacement for family during the holidays.

In other holiday news my school is putting on a Christmas show this coming Saturday for all of the parents. The kids are performing such holiday plays as “Hansel and Gretel,” “Cinderella”, and a reading from some story about an abused dog and a dying grandfather. There are also such Christmas songs as “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey and “Puff the Magic Dragon.” I am actually responsible for that last one, having suggested it as an easy song to learn. I was then promptly punished for mentioning I had a guitar and not mentioning that I play the same O.A.R. songs over and over and will now be playing Puff the Magic Dragon in front of all of the parents.

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A New Semester

Well, it seems that the powers that be at my school have settled on having 4 teachers for the foreseeable future and almost certainly until I hit the road.

On paper, having four teachers (Han, Boram, a newer teacher named Hajin, and myself) seems pretty solid. In truth we really only have around 40 to 50 kids. The thing is that being a private academy our classes are based on what kid comes at what time and how many days a week. Most kids come in every day at the same time. Some come in most days and others come in at all different times.

In the past I have had problems with somebody at school dumping a class into my lap with less than a minute before it began and then looking shocked when I appeared to be a little flustered. At times I have to remind my coworkers that I am not a proper teacher and it takes a significant amount of preparation to even function at a marginally competent level in class. In fact, even with preparation there are times when it is embarrassingly obvious that I have lost my train of thought and am writing on the board incessantly just to buy myself time.



Both hands visible.  Working on the most
complicated craft on earth.

There are times when I must confess to being a pretty phenemonenaly bad teacher. Do I feel bad about this? No. This is likely to be the only time in my life I am ever employed as such. I will not be signing on for a second year (which my boss asks me about once a week) and it is nothing I lose sleep to. I do my best and sometimes it works out great. Sometimes not so much.

There are notable editions and missing faces in my school at present. We have a new little boy whom we affectionately call Hands-in-his-pants Boy. There isn’t really much description needed. He is about 6 years old and if his hands aren’t otherwise occupied he usually is using Han’s compact mirror to apply makeup or put his hair in a ponytail. A few kids are gone. One of them being the Angry Girl. I was the last person to have her in class. For a time it was a one on one class but recently a new student was tossed into her class.



How do I describe this kid? He is incredibly skinny with long hair. I would say he was quirky as eccentric implies some significant age but he constantly wears this old-man fly fishing hat so I will go with eccentric. We call him Skinny Boy despite Bat-Shit Crazy Boy being more accurate.

Skinny boy and his class.  He is in the hoodie next to his friend:
The Chair.

He has the attention span of a moth in the void but he is smart enough to keep on everyone’s good side and understands enough English to intentionally make me laugh. In his new class the three of them (Angry Girl had since left) were saying something like “Let’s play computer games.” A second boy would say “OK, after let’s play soccer,” to which Skinny Boy would in theory say “OK. After, let’s play baseball.” Instead he looked at me and stone cold said:

“But I am not OK,” and through a fake temper tantrum.

Another time I was doing “Eanie Meanie Minie Moe.” Thin Boy had run to the back of the class like he does every ten seconds. I pointed to him and he threw up his hands and dropped dead after apparently being shot.

Point is, Angry Girl had one class with him and decided that it was not going to happen. So, she left. No goodbye.

The fact that she has called and texted me every day for the past two days is a little reassuring / completely creepy.

My 2:30 class is with a 9 year old we call the Missing Boy because he went missing for a solid 3 hours after getting on the wrong bus and getting out god knows where. The school was in full blown panic mode at this and his mother called up every 5 minutes to scream us out. When asking if it was our bus driver’s fault Han told me that it was all of our faults as we had given him this ridiculously random schedule (actually he comes in at 2 every day but Friday when he comes in at 1). To this I would like to submit that nobody tells me jack about anything and that therefore eliminates any guilt on my part.

He turned up eventually and his mother kept him enrolled. It is very difficult to keep his attention for more than 2 minutes at a time and he frequently pulls out a bouncy ball or Pokemon comic book in the middle of class. His new class mate is rocking some pretty horrible ADD which I do not have the know how to deal with so that class is almost a complete loss as far as learning anything significant.

Older Girls Conversation.  Sorry Kid.

I have an older boy (no nickname) whose class I have forgotten about 3 of the 4 times I have had it which means that he spent too much time staring at me as I went bombing into the class with my book and no lesson plan.

My new favorite class is my Older Girls Conversation Class which is a girl and boy. In the boy’s defense I wrote the name on the folder before he was enrolled in the school. In my defense he acts like a 87 year old woman 95% of the time so I haven’t yet bothered to rewrite the class name. These two kids are 13ish and advanced enough so that by the time I get to their class (they are my last class on my two worst days) I breathe a sigh of relief at not having to put such a huge effort in making myself understood. It’s tiring sometimes to have to put such a continuous effort into being understood. So by the time I see him complaining that he is cold and putting so much effort into his coughing one might mistake him for a chain-smoking old man, and her looking like she wants to deck him, I know the hard part of my day is over.

There is one class that has caught me completely off guard as far as the capabilities of a bunch of little kids driving me nuts.

Little Kid Conversation. It started off well enough. It even had some of my favorite kids. There was Rock Paper Scissors Boy, this really loud girl (I actually know their names but they’re all Kim’s and their full names would take a page, so I’ll call her Loud Girl), this adorable girl that looks like a rabbit, a new quiet kid, and this kid who has a huge problem with pronunciation (I took years of French and I can appreciate this). All at once everything hit went down the tube.

I was too nice. They, particularly the cute little girl, walked all over me. For a few classes it took a lot of work to keep them in their seats and focused. Then I got mad at the cute girl for NEVER paying attention and trying to read comic books while everyone else repeated my every word (oh the power!). Then the boy with the bad pronunciation started to act up. They would routinely get up and try to play games on the computer so I stopped being nice. I started yelling and giving homework, hoping to put an end to the plague.

Didn’t work. My classes with them descended into anarchy. The boy threw a hissy fit after I gave him a slightly torn photocopy. The cute girl wouldn’t participate as she was mad at me for denying her stickers. The Loud Girl just wouldn’t shut up and what is worse RPS Boy turned on me. He shocked me. I’d always pictured him as an ally as he always seemed to yell at kids to shut up for me.

The current bane of my existance.

Monday was what I hope to be rock bottom. I tried to play a game. Somehow RPS Boy and the cute little girl got into a tug of war over a spay bottle. I reached in to try and muscle it from both of them, they ended up ripping off a bunch of skin from my thumb and I sprayed them both in the face and gave them all homework.

Mature? No. Effective? No. Only one kid did the homework.

My current plan is to blindside them with kindness. Today we studied for 20 minutes and then watched 10 minutes of America’s Funniest Home Videos and then gave them all pennies. They now think I am the greatest again.

And that’s my schedule for the foreseeable future for the new semester. This doesn’t actually mean too much as I am averaging one new class a week and generally don’t know what is going on anyway. Tomorrow is my last day of class before the Chuseok holiday for which I am beyond excited. Hello My Name is Earl!





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Conversation Class

I have come to dread Thursdays recently. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Albert comes to our school and teaches grammar during several of the classes that would otherwise be taught by Han, Boram or myself. Many of these classes end up being an hour long with one teacher (as opposed to two half-hour segments with two teachers). In the past I had lucked out and had been the odd teacher out and enjoyed a couple of hour-long breaks scattered through out the day.


Then Albert changed things and now I have to teach. I didn’t sign up for this! Oh, wait, guess I did. I do not mind the new class that I have, I really don’t. The way it was handed to me is what I wasn’t too happy with but it seems to be a typical Korean situation.

I was sitting at my computer at 7pm doing what I always do: nothing (read: Facebook, comics, blogs, news, etc.), when Boram came in and told me that soon I would begin teaching a conversation class. I said okay and asked when we would be starting it.

“On Monday?”

“Actually,” said Boram, “it will start right now.” She then handed me a book and ushered me into a class full of some of our older middle school students.

Truth be told, even if I had some warning of just an hour or two things in that class probably wouldn’t have turned out much differently. I have never taught more than 4 kids at once and never anybody out of elementary school. While these kids were better behaved they seemed to be judging me as I walked into class with a book that I had never taught before.

I took a few minutes to glance over the book as 9 kids stared at me and said things in Korean that probably had something to do with the idiot teacher who was turning red and realizing that the book had nothing to do with conversational English whatsoever and was in fact a different edition of the beginners vocab book we use with the younger elementary students!

There was a moment of panic but then recovery. These kids weren’t going to know what the hell I was saying anyway. I opened the book to the first page and read some sentences that were completely useless unless given a freakishly specific context and involved such important vocabulary words as ice cream, ball, and pencil sharpener.

I ran out of coherent sentences in all of 5 minutes and decided that it was too much of a bother to try and walk around and show each kid the book as none of them had the stupid thing. What Albert was hoping for these kids to get out of that pathetic monstrosity of a class I don’t know. What they ended up getting out of it was a 25 minute long game of hangman.

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Indian Food and Guitars

The weeks continue to fly by here in Cheongju. Already I am approaching the two month mark and it seems as though I just touched down at Incheon the last week. This makes me happy because I came with the fear that the year would drag on in misery but it has also made me realize that 10 months from now it will have gone too fast. It seems that I have come to the age where time flies and years go on too quickly.


About a week from now, two of my best friends will arrive in the Land of the Morning Calm and begin a teaching position in the southern part of the country. They are a good three hours away but it will be a god feeling to have familiar faces in a strange place. Also it will give me an excuse to do a lot more local traveling and something to do on my birthday which is just around the corner.

Two weeks ago I was walking into my apartment building as two other non-Koreans were walking out. I must have looked like a kid who just saw a ghost. I have been in this place for over a month and I was under the impression that I was the only American here, but alas it isn’t the case.

So, I found myself sitting at a table on the patio of the restaurant down the road eating and drinking with a big group of fellow westerners that I didn’t know existed. There was Amanda from Ohio who lived in my building, a Canadian, a girl from New York, a Texan and a girl from Louisiana.

The highlight of the evening even before the Korean at the table next to us drunkenly bought us two flavors of Pringles and a giant pitcher of beer was his 8 foot tall friend in some snug shorts.

To the Canadian: Where are you from?
Canadian: I’m from Canada. Where are you from?
Korean: (pulls out imaginary machine gun from god knows where) I’M FROM NORTH KOREA!! (Shoots us all dead.)

So, while I was planning on spending the weekend writing I found myself at a birthday party at an Indian joint in Downtown.

The last time I had Indian food was at some ethnic food festival in Cambridge years back. I felt pretty tame ordering the simple chicken curry and basmati rice, but it was delicious. It was a fairly small joint so how the small staff handled a good 15 - 20 foreigners that barged in with no reservation I don’t know. I’ve worked in restaurants and anything beyond 5 people sent me into panic mode.

The night wore on and we went first to a place called Seduce which for some reason had it decided that those out drinking on a Saturday night in Korea must want to watch Ghost Whisperer starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. From here we went to a place that gave us bowls of Orville Redenbacher popcorn and shots that tasted like some sort of tamed Goldenschlager that appeared to have some sort of brain in them. They tasted fine but there is something unnerving about taking down a glass of something nobody can identify.

Here, the party began to break. I remained for a while longer only to enter the hell that is Frog Rain. The place had one thing going for in that for 10,000W ($10ish) you could have all the beer you could drink. In another place that would be a dream come true, but the place had some of the strongest strobe lights I had ever seen which totally screw up my vision. Besides, the floor was sticky enough to pull your shoe right off of your feet.

So, I left. Still, I was happy to have some social interaction that didn’t rely on the simplest English or kids who do not know what I am saying.

In other news, I now have an air-conditioner which is amazing. I also bought a pretty acoustic guitar yesterday. It needs some work as the action is pretty painful but I am happy with it. Also my heater is busted so I haven’t had anything but a freezing shower in 4 days.

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The Angry Girl

I have been in this place for over three weeks and it is still entirely foreign to me. On days in which I am not fed at school I find myself eating triangles (despite knowing their true name, I will continue to call them triangles mostly because my coworkers get a laugh at it). I have put a decent effort into learning Hangul if only so that I might be able to order a simple meal or two at the place next to my apartment.


Tonight, I walked into that place with my Lonely Planet in hand. The lady behind the counter looked at me and smiled. I looked at the menu on the wall and decided that this was not the day and just pointed to one of four photos of food they had above the kitchen.

Tteokbokki. I’ve had it a few times before but everything tastes a little better when you order it on your own. This was after all the firs meal that I had ordered what wasn’t a pizza or Mc. Donalds. Sure, I was still pointing at a picture but at least it wasn’t a recognizable picture.

Actually, it is more of a snack or a side than a meal but it hit the spot while I ate it sitting on my floor. Tteokbokki is a dish of pressed rice cakes, veggies and sometimes fish cakes in a spicy red sauce. It is not so far removed from a pasta dish at home and the rice cakes have the texture of gnocchi so it didn’t seem so foreign.

While three weeks has not been nearly enough time for me to learn the true names of the students at my school, it has certainly given me time to see their personalities. The prospect of standing and teaching a bunch of kids was daunting to me before I came. A lot of people at home have been given the impression that I hate kids. I do not hate kids; they intimidate me. I do not know why this is, but I never knew how to interact with a kid of any age. This, if nothing else, is being remedied.

I like all of the kids here. They are all hilarious beyond even that Kids Say the Darndest Things: Foreigner Edition level.

There is Clara who continues to come into the office and sit down next to me and give me candy or gum. Once she offered me a hunk of her dried fish. I would have politely accepted it but I had already politely accepted dried squid from the director’s wife and had just thrown it out the window when nobody was looking.

There is another boy who is just a bit younger. I do not even know this boy’s English name, but every day he comes into the office and plays with the magnetic darts or wants to play “Rock, Scissors, Paper.” We could be in the middle of class and I will just barely make eye contact and he will be shaking his hands ready to throw down rock. He always throws rock. He is hyper as hell but he is one of my favorites.

There is a group of three older girls that always ask me questions that they forget to translate into English and then laugh as I stare at them. Usually, they ask if I am married or if I have a girlfriend. Today, they asked why my hair looked so funny.

Then there is another girl in the same class as R.S.P Boy who hates me beyond anything else in this world. When I first had Angry Girl in my class I thought she was terribly shy. She would rarely answer any questions, seemed miserable playing any games, would not sing and simply never looked me in the eyes.

Being extremely shy as a kid is something I can relate to. Heck, I am still shy. I never pushed her to sing, and I never said anything to her about speaking up. I tried to be nice to her.

Over the past three weeks most of the students have warmed up to me. As they filter in through our sliding doors they always walk by my door and say “hello,” as I sit there and wave. Angry Girl will turn her head and walk by despite my waving.

Turns out, this girl is not shy: she might be evil.

It started with the Weather Game. The Weather Game is an incredibly lame game played on a board made of paper, with a big die made of paper. It is a simplified game that is something like Pictionary without any of the fun stuff. In turn, each player rolls the die and then moves their piece (usually an eraser) to the photo that matches the weather condition on the die. Needless to say R.P.C Boy loves this game. We played one round and he kept playing. Having nothing else planned we all kept playing. At one point everybody’s attention was turned elsewhere and Angry Girl smashed the paper die and threw it to the floor in one motion. She then acted as though the die never existed.

A few days ago I was standing in front of the Smart Board as the class came in. Each kid said “hello” to me. When Angry Girl came in she simply looked at me and said:

“No Hello!”

No smile whatsoever.

Her mannerisms give her away too. When a kid has a question or wants something repeated they will usually say something in unrecognizable English or in Korean. Angry Girl will just point at me and tap the desk with her fingers twice. Also, I kind of figured out she hated me when she flung a small glass of water at me when nobody was looking. Nothing vague about that one.

In an effort to make friends with her, I handed her a piece of gum a few days ago. She took the stick and demanded more, to which I obliged because I did not want her to stab me in the neck with a pair of scissors or something. She walked off with 5 sticks.

Honestly, I do not care if this girl hates me. I do not hate her and actually think that she is funny and at times I can’t help but crack up when she does something outlandish. On Friday we were demonstrating the concept of giving. The other kids “gave” me their pencils or books.

“Teacher, here is my pencil / book / bag / etc.“

When it came time for Angry Girl to give me something she looked around her desk until she found a piece of garbage.

“Here is some trash,” she said looking terribly pleased with herself. Point is, it was hilarious.

The reason I tell you all this is because I got my revenge. She walked into my office to find me chewing my last piece of gum. Without saying so much as “hi,” she walked over, held out her hands and said:

“Gum.”

I looked at her and she was not even smiling. To this I (a 25 year old man to a 10 year old girl) responded by spitting my gum out into my hand, holding it up and saying “here you go.”

“Ugggh! Teacher, you dirty!!”

Am I proud of myself? Yes. Yes I am.

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