A Flower Grows in Korea

Since last Saturday the 19th, I have had a plant. A little marigold that was purchased on a slight whim (alright not exactly a slight whim, more like a frenzied, lengthy contemplation of colors and slight hysteria over the acquisition of a living thing who's life will hang in my hands) for 1,000 won...or $1 dollar American. I want to add that it might actually not be a marigold. In fact, I just looked up marigold on Wikipedia and it is assuredly not what is pictured there. But for the sake of simplicity I will call it that.

It has been five days since I got the plant and magically, somehow, the plant still is alive. There is a reason for my disbelief here. And the reason is that I am a plant killer. A serial plant killer. But not like a Ted Bundy plant killer. More like a Lennie Small in Of Mice and Men type killer. Meaning that I just don't know what the fuck I am doing and typically the plants I kill don't die because I intend them too. In fact, I think they often die because I intend them not to. I over intend the plant not to die and so it dies, often, I'm certain, to spite me a little.

So I have this marigold. It has a single root and a nice thick stem and two flowers blossoming (thankfully continuing to blossom) from it. The flowers are maroon with a hint of yellow on their outskirts. I wish for a second marigold and this one will be canary yellow. But that can only come later, only after I have proved that I can nurture the first plant. This is test of my commitment abilities.

I've read everything I can find on the internet about marigolds and their care, all the while certain that being overly knowledgeable about something can often be as destructive as being completely ignorant...consider parents who are so obsessed with raising perfect children and are so well read on the subject that they never let their children make mistakes, which is perhaps the worst parenting mistake one can ever make.

If I coddle the plant, it will grow up spoiled, it won't possess the understanding of how to do things on its own or how to fix its own mistakes. So perhaps reading up on plants is a mistake. I ran this by my friendly Canadian co-worker Chris and he thinks not. He is of the opinion that I should read up on it and thereby be best equipped to handle whatever crises the plant comes up with, that being informed can only aid me in providing the most structured, safe environment for my plant to grow, learn and blossom as it will.

I think he has a point but I am also aware that Chris is a computer guy and can only see a good side to having as much information as possible. For Chris, knowing more can never be bad. I think this is true maybe 99.6 percent of the time, that you are better off knowing everything. However I am a trifle neurotic and I'm imaging this comes off a bit just based on this blog entry. Knowing things isn't always beneficial for me. At the very least, it should be pointed out that the flower is not a marigold so having read about marigold maintenance is possibly completely useless, perhaps even detrimental to the continued survival of my plant.

I think that the more logical you are, the better you deal with and process information. I am very logical about emotions, given that I don't really have any, but I am not logical about life or knowing things. You can explain realitivity and gravity or why plasma television is better than LCD television, and for a while I may listen, mayhap even attentively. But I will drift away. I don't like to know why things happen. At least not always. It takes the adventure out a little bit. I can usually come up with a cooler story about why plasma television is the best (in my mind it involves lava or blood cells...two things that the word plasma conjures to my mind) or I can at the very least find something intriguing about the person explaining it to me, maybe in the way they keep say "now then" or "there's abouts" or maybe just the exacting way their top teeth touch their bottom lip when they speak. It will be something. But information can really only do so much for me.

I get home from Geoff's each day, expecting to see a marigold corpse, broken and bleeding in its little pot, dead from over watering or too much sun or not enough sun or neglect or too much obsessive attention from its owner. But these past couple of days the plant has persisted in not perishing. It lives.

I approach it fearfully, wondering what it's little plant self desires, whether I can impart to it how deeply I yearn for its success as a living thing, how deeply I root for it's continued success on the being alive front. Then generally I will give it water, tentatively, like a virgin lover who knows where the clitoris is in theory but is scared to death to actually feel for it.

As I water it I am certain I've done it wrong, that I've given it water too quickly or too slowly or that the quantity was excessive or stingy. And then I sit back on my heels and I watch it, nervously, waiting for the plant to wilt or immediately burst into flames. But it doesn't. Which I realize should comfort me, but frankly, it only makes me more nervous.

I long to name it, to place an identity upon the plant that will establish my ownership of it, that will cement our relationship. But I dare not. I think as soon as I name it aloud, my cockiness will shine through and I will jinx the entire operation. So as yet, the plant is a nameless thing. And this makes it all the more threatening in it's maroon independence.

School bumping along smoothly. I gave examinations all week as it is nearly the end of April and the kids need progress reports and test scores sent home to their doting parents and my Hagwon's doting patrons. We (the teachers) are actually not allowed to give low grades. It just isn't done. The lowest grade you can give out at my hagwon is a 60%. And I've heard of schools that are worse than that, schools where the lowest grade you can give is a 70% or an 80%. The notion is that this is a business and parents are paying for their children to do well and to have something to show for it. They don't want to pay for something that expresses anything but the most optimistic feedback.

All my students have done fairly well on my examinations. The lowest grade I've given out was a 66. And man that kid deserved his 66. Truth be told, he deserved something beneath a failing grade, but truth is not too important in Korea.

I keep getting sick, unfortunately. I think it's just my body readjusting to a completely new everything but its a little repetitive. I imagine I will adjust eventually. Mainly because it's either adjust or die. I've been dying a lot, but I have yet to die. I bet on me. The plant...I am not betting on. But I think I'll make it.