I have now been in Korea a little over two weeks and currently I stand on the precipice of week three, on the Tuesday night of that third week. I'm content, but not in the way that gives me my little existential crises about stagnating and accidentally never seeing, doing or learning anything new ever again.
I like my job very much, despite the gloved element. I recently bought a very expensive golf glove (this being my Canadian colleague Chris's inspiration) and Chris and I are planning to get together one weekend and build me the most convincing thumb imaginable. I was initially depressed by this entire prospect and by the project in general.
But Chris's enthusiasm ("I love crafts!") has sort of become contagious and I find myself engaged in totally inane conversations during our drives to school about what finger on my hand should be the fake one...I said the middle finger, because it will be between two fingers of similar length that could disguise its false nature. But Chris, who has apparently done research on the subject, says it should be the ring finger because most people (and apparently there are fucking statistics to consider here) cannot move their pinkie without moving their ring finger and thus, Chris possesses the notion that we could somehow affix the fictitious ring finger to the pinkie finger and the pinkie finger would move the fake ring finger like a horrendous puppet show.
Our discussions have also gone over the materials from which to make a fake finger. Chris's idea is to emulate how a finger is built exactly. He wants to use a piece of wooden chopstick, as the bone, and he wants it appropriately broken so as to convey a finger's inherent bending quality. Then he wants to surround the "bone" with toilet paper or cloth. He informs me that there are no muscles in your fingers, which is good for our facade apparently. Fancy, eh?
I have decided to get over feeling sorry for myself on this front. It does me no good and just sort of means I get weepy at night and when under the influence of soju about my disabilities and about how hard it is to be different. I can either decide I can't handle it and quit or I can stuck it up. I am going to revert to being the good sport that I actually am and find this funny rather than upsetting or somehow stifling.
The more time I spend here, the more I realize that Koreans are damn picky and obsessed with looks. I know this because every single day, one of the young girls tells Chris he's fat. And when I wear my baggy jeans, the little girls feel my legs and ask "Teacher fat today?" When I show them that its just extra clothe they breathe a sigh of relief and say "Teacher very beautiful!" Yeah...looks are a big fucking deal over here. So I am not going to take it personally. I am going to build the best fucking fake finger in existence and I am going to fool these school children.
After school ends, I've taken to getting lefts to Ok-dong (where Geoff lives--I live in Mugeo-dong, the university district, which is basically one area of the city away from Ok-dong) with the Korean teachers. Sadly, Ellie (the youngest Korean teacher who got hired right when I did) has not yet had time to give me any Korean lessons. So we do them in the car. Its great. I think sitting and listening to rapid fire Korean is going to teach me more than anything else. Yun, the guy who drives all the Korean teachers home, is young and flirty and likes to make fun of me and my pronunciation. Which is fine, as he speaks very little English and I can mock him right back. The teachers are all sweet and patient and helpful about correcting me and answering my inane questions. Its really wonderful. They like me a lot, maybe because they are so glad to have another woman on staff instead of gruff, burly Chris, who seems to intimidate them.
My god though. Korean women are thin. It brings even me to a point of self consciousness. They are tiny. I am never felt like such a galloping antelope in my life. I sort of like it. I lift things for them and I can pick up all of the kids when they're being bad. And I think it is having a positive effect on my hygiene and grooming habits as being surrounded by such cute littleness makes me self conscious about what I'm wearing.
I do things with my hair over here. I do. I play with the part. I have braids. I wear tight jeans and little shoes and I try to walk like these delicate flowers of women. What's funniest about this is that they all think being a great big, tall white woman with lightish (well, lighter than theirs) hair and round eyes (all of the teachers have had an operation that gets their eyes widened, and more western looking and worst of all, most of their parents paid for it) is hot as hell. Every day I am informed that my hair is cute. That I am cute. That I am so young. Its sweet, but initially I seriously thought they were taking the piss out of me, and blatantly mocking my big, fat loafing ass.
My life has developed a nice little pattern. I wake up early, with Geoff, usually around 8-8:30. He has to be at school around 9-10 most mornings. I either walk with him to his school or I go back to sleep (which has been the case more recently because my jet lag is fucking with me) or I get up with him, do breakfast and spend time in his flat, which is bigger than and has more food than mine. I usually walk back to my flat, which takes about half an hour and just feels amazing in the mornings, despite the ridiculous pollution and the looks I get for having the nerve to not be Korean. When I'm running late I take a bus back to my place, of which there is an excess. If I was running even later I might take a taxi, but as of yet I haven't done this on my own. The bus costs about 1,000 won (1 dollar) and a taxi would set me back about 3,000 won (3 dollars).
Once back at my place, I prepare myself a cup of tea, have a shower if I hadn't had one already (Geoff's bathroom is also bigger than mine and his water heater is much better) and then I either study Korean, write in my journal (something completely separate from this blog, because I don't yet have Internet at my place) or read. At around 1:15 I meet Chris near a convenience store near my flat and he drives me to our school, which is pretty damn far from where we live. Chris and I both live in Mugeo-dong and Geoff lives in Ok-dong. Both of these districts are in the province of Nam Gu, within the city of Ulsan. Chris and my school (which is part of a very large chain of English Academies) is in Jung-gu, a whole other province. So its a bit of a drive.
We tend to get to school around 1:30 or so and we both prep for our classes which on even days of the month begin for me at 2:15 and then on odd days begin at 2:50. Chris's schedule is the opposite. On Mondays I have them write or talk about their weekends. With the older kids, I spend time writing their most problematic sentences on the board and correcting them with everyone paying attention.
With the younger kids, I write what they say they did on the board and have the kids read it over and over, until I am certain they actually understand what they are reading and aren't just humoring me. Tuesdays through Thursdays I work mainly from their text books. I've made Friday puzzle day. I either build them word searches using the vocabulary they learned that week, because it helps them to locate and recognize English words (this is usually for the younger kids) or I make them fairly simple, vocab based cross words.
I especially like when we finish the lesson quickly and I can play games with them. The younger kids9 get Simon Says, which they love and a team Pictionary type game. The older kids get Twenty Questions and Hang Man. I am trying to figure out how to use Scrabble in the classroom. Maybe with my most gifted kids, my favorite class. I have a group of about five kids who are the most advanced in English.
Surprisingly they are not the oldest kids, but typically are the children who have lived somewhere English speaking for a while. They are the kids the academy depends on to do well on the National English tests. The Academies publish the results of the most talented, advanced children as advertising and it reflects well on the academy. Devious yes? I was pleased that they gave me that class instead of Chris. These kids work so hard and they are so talented. I am teaching them really high level stuff. Inferences, referents, critiques.
The boys were sitting behind the girls in class and bugging them by poking them and stuff. The girls' wanted the boys moved. The boys thought the girls should have to move. I had them engage in a strictly English debate about who should be moved, about what would be the most just (I taught them the words justice and litigation) decision.
The boy's argument was that if they were moved, the girls would take the opportunity to begin bugging them (I taught them the words revenge and retaliation). The girls made a much better point, basically that since they weren't they ones beginning the problem (I taught them the words perpetrate and instigate), they shouldn't have to move. I ruled in favor of the girls. And I taught them the words irritate, obnoxious, misogyny, annoying, petulance, bothersome, masochism, pestilence. I told them they could be as mean to each other as they wished, but only in English. And it was so.
14 years ago
