My dad and his wife, Charlene are here and we went to the DMZ today! I typed an exclamation point because, although I have already been on a DMZ tour with my mom and her husband, Kevin, this one was slightly different. We were able to go to an area which the other tour skipped (and this tour skipped one of the areas which was of no particular interest to me). I got some great new pictures and I will post them later.
The BEST part (and I can't believe I'm saying this), was the fact that we stopped at an amethyst factory. At first, this gemstone was just another gemstone, but when the tour guide informed me that it was the national stone of Korea, I became more interested. Because we were a foreign tour group, we received a total of 50% off the price of all amethyst jewelry. I bought a ring. I believe it is set in sterling silver, and is surrounded by a few diamonds. It's a little flashy for someone who doesn't really wear jewelry, but I figured every girl needs at least one piece of nice jewelry. That is something my stepmother, Charlene, taught me. I have to agree. I did pick up a grade-B rock, but the color is more like that of a grade-A.
We had dinner at Outback Steakhouse and now I am back at home, exhausted but happy and extremely content with the events of the day. Although I don't speak much Korean, what I have learned seemed more impressive when used in front of Mom and Kevin. Now that a couple months have passed, I feel even more adequate in front of Dad and Charlene. It may not be much, but even being able to look at the Korean writing (Hangul) and know the correct pronunciation of a word is a mini-triumph for me. For instance, Dad showed me the name of the nearest subway stop and I looked it up on my ALL-IN-KOREAN subway map and sounded out the words until I found the right one. Then I was able to write it on a piece of paper (in Korean) so Dad could show any taxi driver where he needed to go. Is it wrong to be so proud when my Korean is at the level of a 14-month old child? If that....
My new classes have started for fall semester (they're really quarters) and I seem to have a decent group. My higher level class contains quite a few kids who didn't level-up, so they are less than stellar-students. My middle school class is all boys and, although they get a little rowdy at times, they are a lot of fun. And my lower level elementary school class is ADORABLE. I still don't have a feel for their personalities, but each one is the cutest kid EVER! Perhaps an exaggeration, but although Korean children tend to be more attractive (in my opinion) than other children, I've had some funny looking ones. This class is full of little models. They seem well behaved to boot.
One story: For my middle school, all-boy class, they had to learn about the American Civil War. When asked about the economies in the North and the South, they were to use their notes to tell me about it. But as note-taking goes, the words are in an order and organizational pattern that may only make sense to the person who wrote the notes. That was the case for one student. So when he desk partner tried to cheat by looking at HIS notes, having taken none of his own, he said, "Teacher, the North's economy was based on slave factories!" The correct answer was that it was based on factories, while the South's was based on plantations and slaves.
"Slave factories?" I repeated.
He paused and looked like a deer in headlights.
"Yes?" he answered, unsure.
"There were factories that made slaves?" I asked, trying to keep myself from laughing.
I failed.
I started laughing, partially because it struck me as funny, and partially because I had a fellow teacher auditing my class in the back row. The entire class started laughing.
"See, Willy? That's what you get when you try to cheat off your friend. You end up saying things like, 'slave factories,'" I told him, still laughing.
"Yes, Teacher."
Then Friday, he was trying to memorize a sentence that said, "She was from the South but went to school in the North, where she learned to hate slavery." Instead, he said, "Where she learned to hate slaves."
I reminded him of his past mistake and shook my head, asking him if he was racist. His cheeks got red and he blushed as deeply as when his friend and pronounced him to be "gay" earlier in the class.
Middle school boys are a pain when it comes to keeping their attention, but they do make for some fun in-class bloopers.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Pics of the memorial
Below are photos from the memorial for my biological Grandmother (my birthfather's mother). The first three are of the room set up at the memorial building where her ashes are kept. It was a simple room with hardwood floors, a plasma screen with her photo on it, and some incense to light in her honor. Afterward we had a picnic of spicy Korean food which included rank-smelling seafood. I was unable to eat much. In attendence were my birthparents, my sisters, two birthuncles, their wives, my birthfather's sister, and a cousin who is about my age.
The place was about two hours away, so we stopped at a rest area where I snapped the cute picture of Eunkyung and Eunsun (yes, I'm using a different spelling for their names today because I'm beginning to see it actually does make more phonetic sense).
We also stopped at a small shop, which looked more like a tent attached to a small country home (two pics). It was located in front of several other interesting structures, but no one seemed to know what they were (the picture with the hut-like structures). Also, there was a sculpture with statues of the military. I have no idea what that was all about.
The place was about two hours away, so we stopped at a rest area where I snapped the cute picture of Eunkyung and Eunsun (yes, I'm using a different spelling for their names today because I'm beginning to see it actually does make more phonetic sense).
We also stopped at a small shop, which looked more like a tent attached to a small country home (two pics). It was located in front of several other interesting structures, but no one seemed to know what they were (the picture with the hut-like structures). Also, there was a sculpture with statues of the military. I have no idea what that was all about.
Friday, August 28, 2009
SBC TV Network starring me
Monday evening I was somewhat duped into being recorded for a TV segment. The reporter called it a "documentary," but it's hard to tell if he meant it the same way native English speakers mean it.
The story was something like a follow-up to a story done about my birthfamily's restaurant six years ago. When he found out about me, he insisted I be included. I told him that I would prefer not to be on television, but like every other time the word "no" exits my lips, I was ignored. At this point I find myself being too tired to press the issues very often. After the tenth "no," I more or less give up.
So yesterday I found out the story has already aired. A coworker, Edward, came to me and said that his students mentioned seeing me on television. Then tonight, some of my middle school students were excited because they'd seen me on SBC TV.
Apparently it was revealed on the show that my birthfamily's restaurant is worth about $1 million. Everyone seemed quite impressed.
The actual interview for the documentary (Monday) was stressful. The reporter was pushy and incredibly insincere. Any time I felt uncomfortable with something, he'd continue to push. He always referred to my birthparents as "your mother and father." And when he asked me about the racism I experienced growing up in America, he seemed almost disappointed when I reported very little. He rephrased the question a couple times, but when I failed to tell him that I grew up being discriminated against and that America is horrible, he sighed a bit and gave up.
Some other controversial topics were brought to the surface and it made me very uncomfortable.
One somewhat amusing (for me) moment was when they told me to go outside the restaurant for a few minutes. When the reporter called me back in, my birthmother rushed to me with open arms and embraced me, as if she had no idea I was there before. Then she "calls" my birthfather to come out from the kitchen. And although he had been standing there the entire time watching, when the camera focused on him, his eyes opened wide and he said, in surprise, "Laura!"
It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes with the camera stuck in my face.
At one point, my hand was near my face. My birthfather took his hand and firmly pushed my hand down. It's a harmless gesture, I suppose. But I've never been one who likes someone physically manipulating my body, even if it's only my hand. I don't like to be touched in any type of forceful or directive way and his doing so has, over the past few months, worn on me.
Lastly, without getting into it too much (at least not now), at one point the reporter disagreed with something I said, saying, "THEY are your family" (referring to my birthfamily).
All in all, it was a stressful interview....but I remembered what I learned in my public relations courses from college, and smiled instead of screaming. That's probably the main P.R. rule....don't break down crying and screaming. Mission accomplished.
The story was something like a follow-up to a story done about my birthfamily's restaurant six years ago. When he found out about me, he insisted I be included. I told him that I would prefer not to be on television, but like every other time the word "no" exits my lips, I was ignored. At this point I find myself being too tired to press the issues very often. After the tenth "no," I more or less give up.
So yesterday I found out the story has already aired. A coworker, Edward, came to me and said that his students mentioned seeing me on television. Then tonight, some of my middle school students were excited because they'd seen me on SBC TV.
Apparently it was revealed on the show that my birthfamily's restaurant is worth about $1 million. Everyone seemed quite impressed.
The actual interview for the documentary (Monday) was stressful. The reporter was pushy and incredibly insincere. Any time I felt uncomfortable with something, he'd continue to push. He always referred to my birthparents as "your mother and father." And when he asked me about the racism I experienced growing up in America, he seemed almost disappointed when I reported very little. He rephrased the question a couple times, but when I failed to tell him that I grew up being discriminated against and that America is horrible, he sighed a bit and gave up.
Some other controversial topics were brought to the surface and it made me very uncomfortable.
One somewhat amusing (for me) moment was when they told me to go outside the restaurant for a few minutes. When the reporter called me back in, my birthmother rushed to me with open arms and embraced me, as if she had no idea I was there before. Then she "calls" my birthfather to come out from the kitchen. And although he had been standing there the entire time watching, when the camera focused on him, his eyes opened wide and he said, in surprise, "Laura!"
It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes with the camera stuck in my face.
At one point, my hand was near my face. My birthfather took his hand and firmly pushed my hand down. It's a harmless gesture, I suppose. But I've never been one who likes someone physically manipulating my body, even if it's only my hand. I don't like to be touched in any type of forceful or directive way and his doing so has, over the past few months, worn on me.
Lastly, without getting into it too much (at least not now), at one point the reporter disagreed with something I said, saying, "THEY are your family" (referring to my birthfamily).
All in all, it was a stressful interview....but I remembered what I learned in my public relations courses from college, and smiled instead of screaming. That's probably the main P.R. rule....don't break down crying and screaming. Mission accomplished.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
More student stories
Today was my higher level English class. They are all older elementary school children and, although they are considered higher level, I don't see much difference between their speaking and vocabulary abilities and my lowest level class.
The topic for today was Slavery. Yes, deep. They had to read several excerpts about slavery in general and specific events. Then their project assignment (in-class) was to discuss and write down the various hardships and suffering slaves experienced. Then they were to make up a song about the slaves' struggles.
They came up with:
-Being killed (We'd learned about one particular trip when 133 sick slaves were thrown overboard so the ship's owner could get the insurance money for "destroyed cargo.")
--The reason this was bad was because it was "unfair." Yes, kids....that IS one thing that was unfair about slavery....but can you think of ANYTHING else that as unfair????
-Having to wear "only underwear" all the time--which was embarrassing (I have no idea exactly where this came from, but this was right next to the "being killed" entry.)
-Being homeless (I think they meant homesick, but not sure)
-No good food
No mention of slaves being sold, traded, used, beaten, forced into ignorance (punishing those who showed they were trying to learn), or any of the other things we had discussed. The underwear, homeless, and bad food ideas were ALL from somewhere else.
And that was about it.
There were two groups....one group's song made no sense at all. The other group's song was....well....this (sung to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star):
"If you kill slaves then you have no slaves
and you need slaves
so why do you kill slaves?"
That was only the first part, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe the kids had missed the point of today's lessons.
On a slightly unrelated note....it bothers me when the know-it-all girl in my class tries to "interpret" what another student is trying to say because her speaking/vocabulary/grammar is horrible. She uses bigger words to impress but almost never uses them correctly. Many times she does this even after I've understood the original student's question. She usually interrupts by saying, "What her mean is...." and then a string of mispronounced, oddly placed words.
The topic for today was Slavery. Yes, deep. They had to read several excerpts about slavery in general and specific events. Then their project assignment (in-class) was to discuss and write down the various hardships and suffering slaves experienced. Then they were to make up a song about the slaves' struggles.
They came up with:
-Being killed (We'd learned about one particular trip when 133 sick slaves were thrown overboard so the ship's owner could get the insurance money for "destroyed cargo.")
--The reason this was bad was because it was "unfair." Yes, kids....that IS one thing that was unfair about slavery....but can you think of ANYTHING else that as unfair????
-Having to wear "only underwear" all the time--which was embarrassing (I have no idea exactly where this came from, but this was right next to the "being killed" entry.)
-Being homeless (I think they meant homesick, but not sure)
-No good food
No mention of slaves being sold, traded, used, beaten, forced into ignorance (punishing those who showed they were trying to learn), or any of the other things we had discussed. The underwear, homeless, and bad food ideas were ALL from somewhere else.
And that was about it.
There were two groups....one group's song made no sense at all. The other group's song was....well....this (sung to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star):
"If you kill slaves then you have no slaves
and you need slaves
so why do you kill slaves?"
That was only the first part, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe the kids had missed the point of today's lessons.
On a slightly unrelated note....it bothers me when the know-it-all girl in my class tries to "interpret" what another student is trying to say because her speaking/vocabulary/grammar is horrible. She uses bigger words to impress but almost never uses them correctly. Many times she does this even after I've understood the original student's question. She usually interrupts by saying, "What her mean is...." and then a string of mispronounced, oddly placed words.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Rated R post
The other day my students (around 11-12 years old) asked me what "puck" means. I would've been thinking hockey (thanks to my older brother, Ryan), but since I'd just had to speak to them about saying the word "ass-sole," I knew they weren't asking about a hockey puck. Also, Korean kids have trouble with the "f" sound (coffee becomes coppee, phone becomes phone, and apparently fuck because puck).
My "bad" class has two boys who cause trouble, but Obama is the worst. He hates that he is expected to do anything. The problem is that he is a funny kid. If he was a neighborhood kid or a relative of mine, I'd find him hysterical and clever and possibly cute. But I'm his teacher.
"I love you," he told his friend, Junior, one day. The class thought it was funny and burst out in laughter, much to Junior's embarrassment. In semi-mock anger, Junior jumped out of his seat and tried to hit Obama on the arm.
"Teacher!" Obama cried, feigning outrage. "Junior is touching my body!"
Again, the other students giggled in delight, which moved Junior to, once again, go to Obama and hit him.
"Teacher! Junior touching my leg!"
I had to concentrate on firming up the corners of my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
Then last week, while another student was answering a question, Junior asked a question and interrupted the other student. I shot him what I hoped was a scary don't-talk-while-others-are-talking look. He shut his mouth. Then I saw Obama shake his head and make a "tsk, tsk" sound.
"Teacher," he said. "Junior...no etiquette. What an 'ass-sole.'"
Again, I tried not to smile, but this time I failed.
Originally, when they asked me what "puck" meant I told them two things:
1.) Don't SAY the actual word when you ask what it means....call it...the "F-Bomb"
2.) I am not going to say what it means
So today, the question came up again. But this time, it was, "Teacher, what does the 'puck-bomb' mean?"
Great...my student just asked me what "fuck bomb" means.
My "bad" class has two boys who cause trouble, but Obama is the worst. He hates that he is expected to do anything. The problem is that he is a funny kid. If he was a neighborhood kid or a relative of mine, I'd find him hysterical and clever and possibly cute. But I'm his teacher.
"I love you," he told his friend, Junior, one day. The class thought it was funny and burst out in laughter, much to Junior's embarrassment. In semi-mock anger, Junior jumped out of his seat and tried to hit Obama on the arm.
"Teacher!" Obama cried, feigning outrage. "Junior is touching my body!"
Again, the other students giggled in delight, which moved Junior to, once again, go to Obama and hit him.
"Teacher! Junior touching my leg!"
I had to concentrate on firming up the corners of my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
Then last week, while another student was answering a question, Junior asked a question and interrupted the other student. I shot him what I hoped was a scary don't-talk-while-others-are-talking look. He shut his mouth. Then I saw Obama shake his head and make a "tsk, tsk" sound.
"Teacher," he said. "Junior...no etiquette. What an 'ass-sole.'"
Again, I tried not to smile, but this time I failed.
Originally, when they asked me what "puck" meant I told them two things:
1.) Don't SAY the actual word when you ask what it means....call it...the "F-Bomb"
2.) I am not going to say what it means
So today, the question came up again. But this time, it was, "Teacher, what does the 'puck-bomb' mean?"
Great...my student just asked me what "fuck bomb" means.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Tarot reading
Seems like it's been so long since I've posted. Hope you all didn't miss me too much.
Today is Saturday and I went out last night with a group of the teachers. I really find I don't have much in common with them, so I quickly got bored and opted out before 3AM. The taxi scramble during peak bar hours is very frustrating, especially if your Korean is limited. Simply knowing where you're going doesn't suffice. You also need to know what direction it is because, if you're on the wrong side of the street, they won't take you. There are also "taxi pimps" that stand by taxis and negotiate rides. I hate these guys. They don't really act as translators, although some speak some English, but instead act like pimps. They quote a price, as opposed to letting the meter speak for itself, and seem to tell the driver whether they should take me or not. I really haven't heard of anyone else having problems with them and I don't know if anyone's even noticed them, but I have twice now.
Today I decided to head to my birthfamily's restaurant for some food. I arrived and Unkyung was still at her home, but on her way. As I watched, a few people requested more sauce (the special recipe sauce that goes on the pork cutlet). I then wondered if it might be a good idea to bottle the sauce (small bottles) and sell those bottles to customers. That's what they do at Genji and Fujiyama in Columbus with the "Yum Yum" sauce (Genji) and the whatever-that-is-it-tastes-great salad dressing (Fujiyama). When I brought it up to Unkyung later, she said her father didn't seem interested in that kind of thing. In fact, someone approached him about franchising his restaurant (for a nice amount of cash, according to Unkyung) and he turned them down.
The last bit of news I feel like sharing is that I went to a tarot card reader today. Unkyung and I had just eaten and were strolling down the street in the university area. The street is lined with food stands, purse stands (bought a cute one for around $10), shoe stands, fake-designer sunglasses stands, and tarot readers' stands. About every block is another tarot stand, and I've wanted to stop by for a while, so I figured today was as good a day as any. Really, today was a better day since I had Unkyung there to translate. Here's the run down:
The tarot reader said I get bored quickly, especially when it comes to romance. She said I am very interested in someone for a very short amount of time and am soon ready to move on. She also said I used to be the same way with jobs, but that that is less true now. Not off base so far.
Then she said that for a while, she felt I should not work. Okay, there's where she was way off. She told me I need to heal my mind and heart before beginning to work again. When I asked Unkyung (who translated the bulk of this after we left the tent) how long this woman thought I should be unemployed, there was no answer.
Sorry, but in America, women over the age of twenty-three generally work. We don't (usually) live with our parents and wait to meet husbands to support us. Even when we do get married, American women tend to feel an obligation to help support the family by working, unlike Korean women who believe their role as wife is "in the home."
So...my tarot reader wasn't too bad. Unfortunately it seems the cultural differences got in the way of the most accurate "psychic" reading possible, but I did have fun.
All in all a pretty enjoyable day. (P.S. There's a 50%-Off-Sale at one of my favorite shoe stores)
Today is Saturday and I went out last night with a group of the teachers. I really find I don't have much in common with them, so I quickly got bored and opted out before 3AM. The taxi scramble during peak bar hours is very frustrating, especially if your Korean is limited. Simply knowing where you're going doesn't suffice. You also need to know what direction it is because, if you're on the wrong side of the street, they won't take you. There are also "taxi pimps" that stand by taxis and negotiate rides. I hate these guys. They don't really act as translators, although some speak some English, but instead act like pimps. They quote a price, as opposed to letting the meter speak for itself, and seem to tell the driver whether they should take me or not. I really haven't heard of anyone else having problems with them and I don't know if anyone's even noticed them, but I have twice now.
Today I decided to head to my birthfamily's restaurant for some food. I arrived and Unkyung was still at her home, but on her way. As I watched, a few people requested more sauce (the special recipe sauce that goes on the pork cutlet). I then wondered if it might be a good idea to bottle the sauce (small bottles) and sell those bottles to customers. That's what they do at Genji and Fujiyama in Columbus with the "Yum Yum" sauce (Genji) and the whatever-that-is-it-tastes-great salad dressing (Fujiyama). When I brought it up to Unkyung later, she said her father didn't seem interested in that kind of thing. In fact, someone approached him about franchising his restaurant (for a nice amount of cash, according to Unkyung) and he turned them down.
The last bit of news I feel like sharing is that I went to a tarot card reader today. Unkyung and I had just eaten and were strolling down the street in the university area. The street is lined with food stands, purse stands (bought a cute one for around $10), shoe stands, fake-designer sunglasses stands, and tarot readers' stands. About every block is another tarot stand, and I've wanted to stop by for a while, so I figured today was as good a day as any. Really, today was a better day since I had Unkyung there to translate. Here's the run down:
The tarot reader said I get bored quickly, especially when it comes to romance. She said I am very interested in someone for a very short amount of time and am soon ready to move on. She also said I used to be the same way with jobs, but that that is less true now. Not off base so far.
Then she said that for a while, she felt I should not work. Okay, there's where she was way off. She told me I need to heal my mind and heart before beginning to work again. When I asked Unkyung (who translated the bulk of this after we left the tent) how long this woman thought I should be unemployed, there was no answer.
Sorry, but in America, women over the age of twenty-three generally work. We don't (usually) live with our parents and wait to meet husbands to support us. Even when we do get married, American women tend to feel an obligation to help support the family by working, unlike Korean women who believe their role as wife is "in the home."
So...my tarot reader wasn't too bad. Unfortunately it seems the cultural differences got in the way of the most accurate "psychic" reading possible, but I did have fun.
All in all a pretty enjoyable day. (P.S. There's a 50%-Off-Sale at one of my favorite shoe stores)
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Promised pics and a video
The video is of some outdoor performing that tends to go on during the summer in the Hongdae campus area. It's different each time (apparently one time there was a high jump contest).
Below are random photos from around the neighborhood. The woman from the marketplace graciously agreed to have her picture taken.
Above is the bank I use, the woman from the market, and a sign I thought was worth showing you all.
Above are crane machines, similar to ones we have in the US, but they are called "couple cranes" and there are two levers so that two people can play at once. Also, a medical clinic sign that I hadn't noticed until, well, the other day.
The first picture above is a small hair salon in my neighborhood and the second is my street.
The last two pics you see are of the room at the massage parlor. I was so sore after the massage! But it was a nice experience (aside from the pain during and after the actual massage).
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Truth and more birthfamily stuff. Pics soon.
First of all, I will post more pics on my next blog.
Second, I will admit I was not entirely truthful in my blog about the students. I realize that I said that deep down I love all these kids, but I was trying not to sound like a bad person. The truth is, I can't stand some of those kids! I know they're only kids, but I'm not related to them so I have no obligation to think they're all adorable.
I lent a pencil to Brian, the wall-licker. Next thing I know, I see him (instead of doing his work) working on his feet with my pencil! He's cleaning both under his toenails and between his toes. He had kicked his shoes off earlier for some unknown reason. I let him keep the pencil.
So no, I am not fond of all my students. I love some, but with others I keep thinking, "What the Hell is wrong with you, kid?"
Finally, this morning I received a call from my birthmother requesting my presence for lunch. I complied and didn't mind as much since I know they're still morning their loss. But if this starts happening on a regular basis again, I will have to remind them of our "deal." Our deal was that I'd visit more (which I've been doing) if they'd just give me at least a ten hour heads-up if they want to have a morning visit.
Funny story: At the restaurant, Birthfather was downing an entire bottle of Soju (as usual) well before noon. It was at the same Korean buffet where we went for his birthday. Birthmother had finished most of her food but still had one piece of "whatever" on her plate. Birthfather snagged it between his chopsticks and quickly popped it in his mouth. Immediately he spit it out into his hand. Birthmother started laughing hysterically. Apparently that piece of food was one she had put in her mouth, decided she didn't like, and spit it back out onto her plate. What the funniest part was (to me) was that she didn't say a word as he took it and ate it. She just looked on and let him with a mischeivous gleam in her eye.
Although that was funny, it wasn't quite as funny when Birthfather insisted on holding my hand later. He'd spit the food out into that very same hand and had not washed it, but had merely wiped it off with a napkin. Gross.
That's all for today. Pics soon.
Second, I will admit I was not entirely truthful in my blog about the students. I realize that I said that deep down I love all these kids, but I was trying not to sound like a bad person. The truth is, I can't stand some of those kids! I know they're only kids, but I'm not related to them so I have no obligation to think they're all adorable.
I lent a pencil to Brian, the wall-licker. Next thing I know, I see him (instead of doing his work) working on his feet with my pencil! He's cleaning both under his toenails and between his toes. He had kicked his shoes off earlier for some unknown reason. I let him keep the pencil.
So no, I am not fond of all my students. I love some, but with others I keep thinking, "What the Hell is wrong with you, kid?"
Finally, this morning I received a call from my birthmother requesting my presence for lunch. I complied and didn't mind as much since I know they're still morning their loss. But if this starts happening on a regular basis again, I will have to remind them of our "deal." Our deal was that I'd visit more (which I've been doing) if they'd just give me at least a ten hour heads-up if they want to have a morning visit.
Funny story: At the restaurant, Birthfather was downing an entire bottle of Soju (as usual) well before noon. It was at the same Korean buffet where we went for his birthday. Birthmother had finished most of her food but still had one piece of "whatever" on her plate. Birthfather snagged it between his chopsticks and quickly popped it in his mouth. Immediately he spit it out into his hand. Birthmother started laughing hysterically. Apparently that piece of food was one she had put in her mouth, decided she didn't like, and spit it back out onto her plate. What the funniest part was (to me) was that she didn't say a word as he took it and ate it. She just looked on and let him with a mischeivous gleam in her eye.
Although that was funny, it wasn't quite as funny when Birthfather insisted on holding my hand later. He'd spit the food out into that very same hand and had not washed it, but had merely wiped it off with a napkin. Gross.
That's all for today. Pics soon.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Grandmother's Calling Hours
I spent some time with my birthfamily last Friday. It was pleasant enough but I could tell that their minds were preoccupied with the health of Grandmother. As usual, Birthfather downed some Soju and began talking about what I should do with my life. He insisted that I marry someone about two years older. I told him I preferred them five to ten years older. That's not entirely true and I don't know what prompted me to say it, other than the fact that sometimes I just like to "bug" him. He reiterated his stance and then, after more conversation, ammended it saying that the only thing that really matters is love.
Last night Grandmother died and apparently Unkyung tried to call me. My stupid cell phone didn't ring as it's been on the fritz, on and off, for the past few months. But I got the news this morning and agreed to meet with them after work.
At first I was afraid I'd be in their home, the four of them crying and begging me to stay longer. I don't get off work until 10PM, so I anticipated being asked to stay well beyond 1AM. It even crossed my mind that they'd insist I spend the night. Such was not the case. To my immense relief, they were having calling hours. The hospital has a separate wing for calling hours. There are several "areas" and so several calling hours were going on at once. Each one has a large room with low tables set up. Connected to that room is a room for mourning and paying respects to a "shrine" to the deceased.
I walked in and saw dozens of people (at least). They were family members and friends who knew "Halmoni" (Korean for "grandmother") and my family. For the most part, everyone was smiling and laughing, but I suspect the main family members had released tears before guests arrived hours ago. I was led into the room with the shrine. There were three Christian crosses surrounding a photo of her. There was a stack of white carnations and I was to take one and lay it on the alter, light a stick of incense. Then I stepped back and was instructed to hold my hands in front of me, bow my head, and take a moment of silence.
The women of the family, my birthmother and aunts, were wearing black traditional Korean dresses called "hanbooks." The collars were white and they looked very dignified. The men of the family all wore black suits with black ties and a black and white-striped armband on their left side. The flowers of choice were lillies and carnations, all white.
The hospital provided food and drinks for the event, the hospital workers standing behind the connected kitchen's counter, making sure the food never ran low. The only thing I could stomach was some egg-fried zucchini and rice.
I felt awkward most of the time as Unkyung had to tend to other guests. My birthmother sat down with me once in a while, and the younger aunts came by periodically to rub my back and give me a warm smile. The uncles constantly tried to speak English to me, which had one of the aunts laughing so hard it seemed she couldn't breathe. She is one aunt I liked from the first time I met her back in February.
Around midnight I decided to leave. To my surprise, no one really had a problem with it. My birthfather was fully drunk at this point and was wearing a pair of too-small, possibly women's, sandals. Unkyung gasped, laughed, and handed him some large slippers. He hugged me, held my face in his hands, and said he loved me and said I was "good." He was clearly struggling to keep his tears "in check." At one point, Birthmother touched her hand to his cheek, looked at her hand, and made a face of mock-disgust upon seeing all the oil and sweat. Birthfather laughed, playfully slapped her hand away, and proceeded to rub his cheek on her sleeve. It was nice.
I also realize that I like my birthmother more and more. We don't seem to need many words. Her sense of humor shines through as she uses hand motions, facial contortions, and sound effects (which she is surprisingly good at) to convey her jokes. She reminds me of my Grandma English and my mother mixed together. Two amazing women. Well, three.
Whew! That's all. I'm tired now and, if you read this entire post, I'm sure you are, too. Night!
P.S. I forget whether you always use a comma before using the word "too" (as I've done above) or whether it's sometimes acceptable to leave the comma out. The books at CDI are messing up my sense of grammar as they have many grammar mistakes. Sometimes hard for me to distinguish the correct from the incorrect.
Last night Grandmother died and apparently Unkyung tried to call me. My stupid cell phone didn't ring as it's been on the fritz, on and off, for the past few months. But I got the news this morning and agreed to meet with them after work.
At first I was afraid I'd be in their home, the four of them crying and begging me to stay longer. I don't get off work until 10PM, so I anticipated being asked to stay well beyond 1AM. It even crossed my mind that they'd insist I spend the night. Such was not the case. To my immense relief, they were having calling hours. The hospital has a separate wing for calling hours. There are several "areas" and so several calling hours were going on at once. Each one has a large room with low tables set up. Connected to that room is a room for mourning and paying respects to a "shrine" to the deceased.
I walked in and saw dozens of people (at least). They were family members and friends who knew "Halmoni" (Korean for "grandmother") and my family. For the most part, everyone was smiling and laughing, but I suspect the main family members had released tears before guests arrived hours ago. I was led into the room with the shrine. There were three Christian crosses surrounding a photo of her. There was a stack of white carnations and I was to take one and lay it on the alter, light a stick of incense. Then I stepped back and was instructed to hold my hands in front of me, bow my head, and take a moment of silence.
The women of the family, my birthmother and aunts, were wearing black traditional Korean dresses called "hanbooks." The collars were white and they looked very dignified. The men of the family all wore black suits with black ties and a black and white-striped armband on their left side. The flowers of choice were lillies and carnations, all white.
The hospital provided food and drinks for the event, the hospital workers standing behind the connected kitchen's counter, making sure the food never ran low. The only thing I could stomach was some egg-fried zucchini and rice.
I felt awkward most of the time as Unkyung had to tend to other guests. My birthmother sat down with me once in a while, and the younger aunts came by periodically to rub my back and give me a warm smile. The uncles constantly tried to speak English to me, which had one of the aunts laughing so hard it seemed she couldn't breathe. She is one aunt I liked from the first time I met her back in February.
Around midnight I decided to leave. To my surprise, no one really had a problem with it. My birthfather was fully drunk at this point and was wearing a pair of too-small, possibly women's, sandals. Unkyung gasped, laughed, and handed him some large slippers. He hugged me, held my face in his hands, and said he loved me and said I was "good." He was clearly struggling to keep his tears "in check." At one point, Birthmother touched her hand to his cheek, looked at her hand, and made a face of mock-disgust upon seeing all the oil and sweat. Birthfather laughed, playfully slapped her hand away, and proceeded to rub his cheek on her sleeve. It was nice.
I also realize that I like my birthmother more and more. We don't seem to need many words. Her sense of humor shines through as she uses hand motions, facial contortions, and sound effects (which she is surprisingly good at) to convey her jokes. She reminds me of my Grandma English and my mother mixed together. Two amazing women. Well, three.
Whew! That's all. I'm tired now and, if you read this entire post, I'm sure you are, too. Night!
P.S. I forget whether you always use a comma before using the word "too" (as I've done above) or whether it's sometimes acceptable to leave the comma out. The books at CDI are messing up my sense of grammar as they have many grammar mistakes. Sometimes hard for me to distinguish the correct from the incorrect.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Grandmother is gone
I got a text from Unkyung this morning informing me that her grandmother died last night.
I'm glad I got to meet her. It's sad, but I hope Unkyung can find some freedom now.
More later.
I'm glad I got to meet her. It's sad, but I hope Unkyung can find some freedom now.
More later.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Worked Saturday
I just got back home from having lunch with Unkyung. I worked this morning for two hours because every other Saturday is A + Hunters. A + Hunters is a program for anyone who is scoring poorly (B- and lower) on their tests. They come in and retake their tests from the previous two weeks. It shouldn't be difficult the second time around since the test is the exact same test they took before. And even if the test wasn't the same, the chapters the tests cover are the same.
So I sat there grading the first round of tests and came across a big fat 0/100. 0%. F. How did this kid manage to get not ONE word correct on this, especially since the procedure is to let them stare at the material for 15 minutes and then take the test immediately! And, as I said before, THEY'VE ALREADY TAKEN THIS TEST BEFORE. I looked at the name. Ah...Brian...my wall licker.
Brian spends most of class licking wells, putting pencils in his mouth and up his nostrils, putting his fingers in his mouth and up his nostrils, and picking at any scabs or dead skin he may have. So when he was given time to study today, he clearly saw no reason to alter his routine.
Another F....Linda. Oh, poor Linda. Linda spends most of the class either picking at her scabs until they bleed (apparently so she can stick her finger in the fluid and into her mouth) and sitting in her seat in a pose not too different from the pose struck in Flashdance (except in flashdance there's a purpose for the pose: she's waiting for the water to splash her to spice up her performance. Linda seems to have no reason). When she's not doing that she's leaping out of her seat and waving her hand in my face while crying out, "Me! Me, Teacher! MEEE!!!!!"
Don't get me wrong. I love the kids. It's infuriating to deal with some of these things as Laura-The-Teacher, but as Laura-The-Sucker-For-Kids, it makes me laugh and smile whenever I think of them.
So I sat there grading the first round of tests and came across a big fat 0/100. 0%. F. How did this kid manage to get not ONE word correct on this, especially since the procedure is to let them stare at the material for 15 minutes and then take the test immediately! And, as I said before, THEY'VE ALREADY TAKEN THIS TEST BEFORE. I looked at the name. Ah...Brian...my wall licker.
Brian spends most of class licking wells, putting pencils in his mouth and up his nostrils, putting his fingers in his mouth and up his nostrils, and picking at any scabs or dead skin he may have. So when he was given time to study today, he clearly saw no reason to alter his routine.
Another F....Linda. Oh, poor Linda. Linda spends most of the class either picking at her scabs until they bleed (apparently so she can stick her finger in the fluid and into her mouth) and sitting in her seat in a pose not too different from the pose struck in Flashdance (except in flashdance there's a purpose for the pose: she's waiting for the water to splash her to spice up her performance. Linda seems to have no reason). When she's not doing that she's leaping out of her seat and waving her hand in my face while crying out, "Me! Me, Teacher! MEEE!!!!!"
Don't get me wrong. I love the kids. It's infuriating to deal with some of these things as Laura-The-Teacher, but as Laura-The-Sucker-For-Kids, it makes me laugh and smile whenever I think of them.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Grandma's condition and taxi fun
Today I went to my birthfamily's home with Unkyung. Grandmother was there and she had a fever, barely able to open her eyes or lift her head. She's lost a lot of weight. Unkyung's heart is clearly heavy at the thought of her death, but I'm sure she's partially glad that her grandmother's pain will be over soon. For me, it's useful to know that cancer runs in the family.
I took a taxi home. The taxi driver asked me where I am from. I told him "I'm sorry, I don't speak Korean," in Korean. He continued to talk to me in Korean and told me that he thought I was Korean because my face looks Korean. Funny how many people here think of you as either Korean or American, as if the concept of Korean-American is so foreign. And I also noticed that, even though I don't speak Korean, he continued to talk to me. I picked up enough to tell him where I'm from, but that's about it. In America, if you take a taxi and don't speak English, the taxi driver will shrug and stop talking to you. Yet this man kept talking and trying to communicate.
I've also noticed that left turns are made on red lights. Not in the same way they are in America, where we make left turns on red because we reason, hey, I was already in the middle of the intersection when it turned red. Might as well go. No, here it seems to be that red lights only mean you can't go straight. Left turns are acceptable. This may not be legal, but it's what almost all drivers do, whether I'm in a taxi or riding with Unkyung.
I ALSO was amused to see a reality TV show like the American show, "Cheaters." Like cheaters, a person comes to the show suspicious of their significant other. When they are caught cheating, a confrontation is arranged during a moment when the cheating is actually occuring. The twist is, at the end, they are on opposite sides of the street and must cross the crosswalk. If the victim thinks they can forgive, they both stop in the middle. If not, he or she keeps on walking past the cheater. The drama of it had me chuckling. A little bit of America that has trickled in.
When we arrived near my home, he took our a wad of bills to give me change and licked his finger to count them. Yeah, that's exactly what I want. I prefer my money with spit on it.
That's all for now, folks! Take a minute to answer my quiz...
I took a taxi home. The taxi driver asked me where I am from. I told him "I'm sorry, I don't speak Korean," in Korean. He continued to talk to me in Korean and told me that he thought I was Korean because my face looks Korean. Funny how many people here think of you as either Korean or American, as if the concept of Korean-American is so foreign. And I also noticed that, even though I don't speak Korean, he continued to talk to me. I picked up enough to tell him where I'm from, but that's about it. In America, if you take a taxi and don't speak English, the taxi driver will shrug and stop talking to you. Yet this man kept talking and trying to communicate.
I've also noticed that left turns are made on red lights. Not in the same way they are in America, where we make left turns on red because we reason, hey, I was already in the middle of the intersection when it turned red. Might as well go. No, here it seems to be that red lights only mean you can't go straight. Left turns are acceptable. This may not be legal, but it's what almost all drivers do, whether I'm in a taxi or riding with Unkyung.
I ALSO was amused to see a reality TV show like the American show, "Cheaters." Like cheaters, a person comes to the show suspicious of their significant other. When they are caught cheating, a confrontation is arranged during a moment when the cheating is actually occuring. The twist is, at the end, they are on opposite sides of the street and must cross the crosswalk. If the victim thinks they can forgive, they both stop in the middle. If not, he or she keeps on walking past the cheater. The drama of it had me chuckling. A little bit of America that has trickled in.
When we arrived near my home, he took our a wad of bills to give me change and licked his finger to count them. Yeah, that's exactly what I want. I prefer my money with spit on it.
That's all for now, folks! Take a minute to answer my quiz...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Some pics from Mom's visit...
The first picture is of the lookout point overlooking North Korea. We weren't allowed to take photos past that yellow line. I couldn't see much since it was so foggy, but I thought perhaps I saw KJI giving his the finger from afar.
The next two pictures are of the section of the DMZ tour that honors the sacrifices made during the Korean world.
The first two pics above are at Dorasan Station which is the only place where both North Korean and South Korean soldier patrol. The station has the only train from South Korea to North Korea. The first pic is the spot where George W. Bush gave his Axis of Evil speech.
The third picture is of two guns used during the Korean war.
There's Unkyung looking cute above.
These pictures are of: 1.) the popular Meyongdong shopping area, 2.) The cast of JUMP, a martial arts comedy show, and 3.) A dance performance in Insadong, another popular shopping area. I love the fact that all the dancers were senior citizens. It was great!
Okay, above this text are pictures of the day Mom and Kevin arrived. The first is of the gate we stared at for over an hour, waiting for them to come through the doors. There's also a picture of my birthparents. The third picture is one of the flowers we gave Mom. The last is the guy who created the flower arrangement. I liked him because so many Korean men that I've seen here are businessmen or shop owners or restaurant owners. This guy was creative and looked the part too. You can't see, but he has jeans on with holes in it.
These last pics are of brunch with Mom and Kevin and my birthfamily.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
My birthparents' love
At the bottom of this post is a video taken of the kids at the orphanage. Cute!
Above are the pics from the meeting with Mom, Kevin, birthparents, Unkyung, an interpreter, and me.
Monday night I met with my mother, Kevin, birthparents, Unkyung, and an interpreter from the tour Mom and Kevin are on. The interpreter is an Caucasian woman who speaks fluent Korean after having lived in Korea for three years. She is married to a Korean man she, he, and her children speak Korean at home. She was so good that when she called my birthparents initially, they thought she was Korean.
Too much was said to repeat here, but it was enlightening and interesting. It was nice to know some things about them beforehand so most of the time could be spent talking about deeper issues. There were a couple infuriating moments (like when they refused to answer one of my questions and when my birthfather commented on my weight), and some emotional ones as well.
I think the most important thing that came out of the session was finding out how fiercely my birthparents wanted to keep me and then, years later, to find me. Their intention was apparently to take me to an orphanage so I could get the medical attention I needed. They had been told that if I did not have surgery soon, I would die. Since they couldn't afford it and since my birthmother grew up in an orphanage as well, she thought it was the best way to keep me alive. The plan was to return in two months, at which point I should be better, and "take me back." When they came back, I was gone.
They talked about the decision and all the fights the situation caused. Birthfather said they fought all the time because he was opposed to the idea of giving me up. He said that if there was a chance I might die anyway, even after surgery, it was better to let me die with them. Now knowing how stubborn my birthfather can be, I see that my birthmother really had to fight to save me.
Apparently they spent a few years trying to find out what happened to me. They found out which adoption agency handled my adoption and, for lack of a better word, harassed them (via my birthmother's sister who lived in Seoul). Finally, they decided that they needed to move to Seoul to increase the chances of finding out about me (that's where the agency was located).
What hit me then was the realization that, though I've had so many differences with my birthparents so far, I have the opportunity that many adoptees whish they had. I can have my questions answered. I CAN say, "Boy, my birthparents are really getting on my nerves," or, "My birthfather is so demanding!" It's something that I never thought I'd have, even after the years of letters and phone calls with them.
Last note: This also reminded me how sweet and amazing Unkyung is. She has done so much for me and thinks about others all the time. I tend to be a "people pleaser," but she does everything with such genuine good intentions that it's inspiring. I'm hoping to do a little good as well by visiting them more often (at their request) and volunteering at the orphanage I visited this week with Mom and Kevin.
Above are the pics from the meeting with Mom, Kevin, birthparents, Unkyung, an interpreter, and me.
Monday night I met with my mother, Kevin, birthparents, Unkyung, and an interpreter from the tour Mom and Kevin are on. The interpreter is an Caucasian woman who speaks fluent Korean after having lived in Korea for three years. She is married to a Korean man she, he, and her children speak Korean at home. She was so good that when she called my birthparents initially, they thought she was Korean.
Too much was said to repeat here, but it was enlightening and interesting. It was nice to know some things about them beforehand so most of the time could be spent talking about deeper issues. There were a couple infuriating moments (like when they refused to answer one of my questions and when my birthfather commented on my weight), and some emotional ones as well.
I think the most important thing that came out of the session was finding out how fiercely my birthparents wanted to keep me and then, years later, to find me. Their intention was apparently to take me to an orphanage so I could get the medical attention I needed. They had been told that if I did not have surgery soon, I would die. Since they couldn't afford it and since my birthmother grew up in an orphanage as well, she thought it was the best way to keep me alive. The plan was to return in two months, at which point I should be better, and "take me back." When they came back, I was gone.
They talked about the decision and all the fights the situation caused. Birthfather said they fought all the time because he was opposed to the idea of giving me up. He said that if there was a chance I might die anyway, even after surgery, it was better to let me die with them. Now knowing how stubborn my birthfather can be, I see that my birthmother really had to fight to save me.
Apparently they spent a few years trying to find out what happened to me. They found out which adoption agency handled my adoption and, for lack of a better word, harassed them (via my birthmother's sister who lived in Seoul). Finally, they decided that they needed to move to Seoul to increase the chances of finding out about me (that's where the agency was located).
What hit me then was the realization that, though I've had so many differences with my birthparents so far, I have the opportunity that many adoptees whish they had. I can have my questions answered. I CAN say, "Boy, my birthparents are really getting on my nerves," or, "My birthfather is so demanding!" It's something that I never thought I'd have, even after the years of letters and phone calls with them.
Last note: This also reminded me how sweet and amazing Unkyung is. She has done so much for me and thinks about others all the time. I tend to be a "people pleaser," but she does everything with such genuine good intentions that it's inspiring. I'm hoping to do a little good as well by visiting them more often (at their request) and volunteering at the orphanage I visited this week with Mom and Kevin.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Quick update
Well Mom is here and I've been taking some great pictures. I'll talk more about her trip when I can get the pics up, but lately I've been pretty busy getting up in the mornings to spend time with her before I go to work until 10PM. Overall it's been great and their hotel is so swanky and modern and beautiful that I almost spent the night! Unfortunately, it only has one king sized bed and I wasn't sold on spending the night in the same bed with my mom and Kevin (no offense, guys!).
I have good classes so far, but there is one class that is driving me nuts. The class is filled with older children. They aren't quite middle school aged, but just on the cusp and full of attitude. They won't listen to me, talk while I'm talking, won't stop speaking Korean, and won't follow directions. There are three students who provide the most stress and they flat out don't care. I've tried being calm and stern, giving them punishments (extra homework), and rearranging their seating so they wouldn't be right next to their friends. Nothing has worked. I think it's this age because the class I had last semester in this age range was just as bad. Well, maybe not quite as bad....but close.
Well, I'm off to bed....Mom and Kevin and I stopped in at a casino attached to the hotel and played the slots. It was fun and we had a lot of laughs. They leave tomorrow to begin their tour. They will still be in Seoul quite a bit, but in an entirely different area.
Will post pics and details later!
I have good classes so far, but there is one class that is driving me nuts. The class is filled with older children. They aren't quite middle school aged, but just on the cusp and full of attitude. They won't listen to me, talk while I'm talking, won't stop speaking Korean, and won't follow directions. There are three students who provide the most stress and they flat out don't care. I've tried being calm and stern, giving them punishments (extra homework), and rearranging their seating so they wouldn't be right next to their friends. Nothing has worked. I think it's this age because the class I had last semester in this age range was just as bad. Well, maybe not quite as bad....but close.
Well, I'm off to bed....Mom and Kevin and I stopped in at a casino attached to the hotel and played the slots. It was fun and we had a lot of laughs. They leave tomorrow to begin their tour. They will still be in Seoul quite a bit, but in an entirely different area.
Will post pics and details later!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Tids and Bits
Well my mother is arriving in a couple hours and I am waiting for Unkyung to pick me up. It sounds already like my birthfamily has plans laid out, regardless of what my parents want or not, but I think they anticipated that happening.
I forgot, the other day, when I was writing about my classes to write about one incident. We were playing stop the bus where I outline categories and give them a letter. They are then to come up with a word that starts with that letter for each category, such as "country," "animal," "food," and "name." These were the categories the other day. The letter: "R." A student's hand shot up and she looked pretty proud. She listed, "Romania, Rabbit, Radish...." and for the name........
"Raura K. English!" She looked so triumphant that I hated to break it to her that it's Laura with an "L." I mean, my name is even spelled out on the classroom door!
I had an interesting lunch with Unkyung. For some reason I had always assumed my grandmother's lack of leg was due to a health condition such as diabetes. Really it happened when she was walking with my sisters, my little sister strapped to her back and Unkyung holding her hand. For whatever reason, either she didn't see or look or the driver wasn't looking, the truck ran over her. That is how she lost her leg. It really puts the incident at the airport (when I first fot here and she fell into the street) in perspective. That must have been horrible....
I hear Unnkyung coming up the steps to my apartment now...so now I'll leave and go pick Mom and Kevin up from the airport. Exciting! Can't wait! Camera in my purse.
I forgot, the other day, when I was writing about my classes to write about one incident. We were playing stop the bus where I outline categories and give them a letter. They are then to come up with a word that starts with that letter for each category, such as "country," "animal," "food," and "name." These were the categories the other day. The letter: "R." A student's hand shot up and she looked pretty proud. She listed, "Romania, Rabbit, Radish...." and for the name........
"Raura K. English!" She looked so triumphant that I hated to break it to her that it's Laura with an "L." I mean, my name is even spelled out on the classroom door!
I had an interesting lunch with Unkyung. For some reason I had always assumed my grandmother's lack of leg was due to a health condition such as diabetes. Really it happened when she was walking with my sisters, my little sister strapped to her back and Unkyung holding her hand. For whatever reason, either she didn't see or look or the driver wasn't looking, the truck ran over her. That is how she lost her leg. It really puts the incident at the airport (when I first fot here and she fell into the street) in perspective. That must have been horrible....
I hear Unnkyung coming up the steps to my apartment now...so now I'll leave and go pick Mom and Kevin up from the airport. Exciting! Can't wait! Camera in my purse.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I have Obama in my class
So one of my students today decided he wanted to change his English name from Ian to Obama (the Koreans LOVE Obama, if I haven't mentioned it before). I named yet another student Eminem (a rapper, for those of you who may not know). It's funny the names these children will choose. The names I come up with are usually good. I came up with Obama (he thought it over for a week before deciding he liked it), Eminem, Spike, and JFK Jr. (who decided to shorten it to "Junior").
But the normal names these children choose are absurd to me. It seems Koreans like the most hideous of English/western names. Ida, Esther, and Harry are names that appeal to some of these young students. There are some normal ones. For instance, I have half a dozen kids named Sarah, Jenny, Kelly, or Amy. And there is one, lone Laura. No, it was not me (I?) who named her that. It seems so fitting. She is a cute, quiet, chubby girl who gets good grades and is not popular with the other students. Fitting.
One of my kids, Brian, has been swearing a lot. Not the worst words, but only the ones that have religious roots. He was watching me play Minesweeper, the game on Microsoft Windows where you have to flag the mines and avoid being "blown up." He was watching intently as I played, his breath HEAVY with seafood, whispering, "Be careful, Teacher! Be careful...." each time he thought I was near a "bomb." Then, when I hit it, he exclaimed, "Jesus Christ!" He's not one of my high level students. In fact, his class is the lowest level I have taught so far. Some may not consider it a swear word, but the by the time he was on "Jesus Christ!" number three, it started irritating me. He also says, "Damn it!" and "Oh my God!" and "Hell" (the last one is usually used when referring to the amount of writing he has to do in class). He is adorable and the words shock me each time he uses them. I've explained to him that they are not nice phrases to use, but that may have egged him on. Next time, I'll think of a long sentence for him to write 20 times. Seeing as how he thinks writing is "Hell," that should stop the stream of religiously-based profanity.
I have just completed day nine of my ten-day work week (to make up for the days missed during quarantine).
And only two more days until my mom gets here!
But the normal names these children choose are absurd to me. It seems Koreans like the most hideous of English/western names. Ida, Esther, and Harry are names that appeal to some of these young students. There are some normal ones. For instance, I have half a dozen kids named Sarah, Jenny, Kelly, or Amy. And there is one, lone Laura. No, it was not me (I?) who named her that. It seems so fitting. She is a cute, quiet, chubby girl who gets good grades and is not popular with the other students. Fitting.
One of my kids, Brian, has been swearing a lot. Not the worst words, but only the ones that have religious roots. He was watching me play Minesweeper, the game on Microsoft Windows where you have to flag the mines and avoid being "blown up." He was watching intently as I played, his breath HEAVY with seafood, whispering, "Be careful, Teacher! Be careful...." each time he thought I was near a "bomb." Then, when I hit it, he exclaimed, "Jesus Christ!" He's not one of my high level students. In fact, his class is the lowest level I have taught so far. Some may not consider it a swear word, but the by the time he was on "Jesus Christ!" number three, it started irritating me. He also says, "Damn it!" and "Oh my God!" and "Hell" (the last one is usually used when referring to the amount of writing he has to do in class). He is adorable and the words shock me each time he uses them. I've explained to him that they are not nice phrases to use, but that may have egged him on. Next time, I'll think of a long sentence for him to write 20 times. Seeing as how he thinks writing is "Hell," that should stop the stream of religiously-based profanity.
I have just completed day nine of my ten-day work week (to make up for the days missed during quarantine).
And only two more days until my mom gets here!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Barbecue on the rooftop
I named one of my students Eminem. He had only his Korean name and I wanted to give him a different one. The students voted on "Alex," which I quickly vetoed. I gave him several options, which were all rappers' stage names (except Barack). Since Eminem was easiest to say, he chose that one. My day went pretty well except for the disconcerting eyebrow wriggling one of my students aimed in my direction.
No pics of the barbecue....sorry. But a coworker of mine invited some of the teachers to a barbecue on her boyfriend's rooftop. He'd purchased a small grill and wanted to have a get-together. He's a teacher at a different CDI branch. It was a lot of fun. People from his branch and ours came and enjoyed bratwurst, burgers, beer, and some pecan crusted cinnamon buns. Yum! The gathering reminded me of home and it was nice.
On the way home I asked a coworker what he thought of Korean girls going to English academies. After all, a Korean magazine advised women to spend 30% of their income on looking good with the reasoning that catching a good husband is the best investment a woman can make. As I've said in past blogs, this attitude seems rampant in this country. But then why, I wondered, do parents send their daughters to high priced English schools? Could it be that they are becoming more progressive and want their daughters to have successful careers of their own someday? Or is it because a well educated man will be more likely to desire a well educated woman?
Although my coworker didn't have an answer for me, he did say that he wouldn't be surprised if the byproduct is a new generation of Korean girls lusting after American or western men. They go to these academies and develop crushes on their American male teachers and flirt shamelessly with them in the hopes of, in his words, "possibly validation?" He's been the object of quite a few girls' affections in the past nine months.
That's all I have to say about that. Would have been a good day if I didn't have to work tomorrow (Sunday) too.
No pics of the barbecue....sorry. But a coworker of mine invited some of the teachers to a barbecue on her boyfriend's rooftop. He'd purchased a small grill and wanted to have a get-together. He's a teacher at a different CDI branch. It was a lot of fun. People from his branch and ours came and enjoyed bratwurst, burgers, beer, and some pecan crusted cinnamon buns. Yum! The gathering reminded me of home and it was nice.
On the way home I asked a coworker what he thought of Korean girls going to English academies. After all, a Korean magazine advised women to spend 30% of their income on looking good with the reasoning that catching a good husband is the best investment a woman can make. As I've said in past blogs, this attitude seems rampant in this country. But then why, I wondered, do parents send their daughters to high priced English schools? Could it be that they are becoming more progressive and want their daughters to have successful careers of their own someday? Or is it because a well educated man will be more likely to desire a well educated woman?
Although my coworker didn't have an answer for me, he did say that he wouldn't be surprised if the byproduct is a new generation of Korean girls lusting after American or western men. They go to these academies and develop crushes on their American male teachers and flirt shamelessly with them in the hopes of, in his words, "possibly validation?" He's been the object of quite a few girls' affections in the past nine months.
That's all I have to say about that. Would have been a good day if I didn't have to work tomorrow (Sunday) too.
Friday, June 5, 2009
It's 2AM
Is it wrong to be so infuriated by the fact that my birthmother called me twice at this hour? Midnight is perhaps understandable. But at this time? I have to work in the morning and am trying to sleep. But even if I did not have to work in the morning, isn't it just, well, selfish? We can't have a real conversation....she only wants to hear my voice. So in order to hear it, she feels she has the right to call me at whatever time she wishes.
I realize they are paying for the cell bill, but I never asked them to do that. In fact, I tried to dissuade them, knowing it was a way of ensuring that I feel indebted. Even if they didn't consciously intend to do so, they have and it's hard to believe it was completely unintentional. Especially in light of their late-night phone calls.
I realize that she and my birthfather get drunk and that that is the reason she calls so late, but while I felt their drinking made them more fun before, it makes them seem a little sad now. This may be a bitter, overdramatized outlook as a result of being sleep deprived and grumpy....but it's my rant and how I'm feeling at 2AM. Now I must go to sleep so I can wake up for work in the morning. Hope I don't get another call. But then again, I've put my phone on silent.
I realize they are paying for the cell bill, but I never asked them to do that. In fact, I tried to dissuade them, knowing it was a way of ensuring that I feel indebted. Even if they didn't consciously intend to do so, they have and it's hard to believe it was completely unintentional. Especially in light of their late-night phone calls.
I realize that she and my birthfather get drunk and that that is the reason she calls so late, but while I felt their drinking made them more fun before, it makes them seem a little sad now. This may be a bitter, overdramatized outlook as a result of being sleep deprived and grumpy....but it's my rant and how I'm feeling at 2AM. Now I must go to sleep so I can wake up for work in the morning. Hope I don't get another call. But then again, I've put my phone on silent.
Stephanie pictures and semester news
Above are pics of Stephanie being more adventurous with food than she's used to. This is a girl who won't eat pretzels. PRETZELS! Not even ones covered in CHOCOLATE. But she was a trooper and tried, and even liked, all the Korean cuisine. The last pic above is of two guys who were hitting on Stephanie and another teacher who was eating dinner with us. We were enjoying BBQ when they came up and started hitting on them. They LOVE blond girls here and Stephanie was a HOT commodity. The three of us agreed to play some pool with these two guys for a laugh. And so many laughs ensued. The guys were full of odd tendencies, including the tendency to get a little violent when someone on his team missed a shot (the one on the right--Stephanie's team). We quickly ditched them after the game.
Pictured above are: Neng Myung, a cold noodle dish that is mildly spicy. It's made with buckwheat noodles and vegetables and is popular during the summer. The next pic is of the local market, the one owned by the couple who I adore (and who Stephanie grew to adore as well). The third picture is of the market in Insadong where there are many antiques and traditional Korean art pieces. The last pic is my dryer. Yes, that's my clothes dryer. Enough said.
Today was the third day of the summer quarter at CDI. Yesterday's 4PM class was fine and, since they were younger, they thought all my lame jokes were absolutely hysterical. We're told to introduce ourselves and tell a little about ourselves, so I informed them that I'm 65 years old and have two children, ages 20 and 17. One said I look great for my age....about 40. For anyone unaware...I am 25. I also told them that before CDI I was in the US Army.
In my second class yesterday, I had all 6th graders with major attitudes. And when I told one to stop speaking Korean, he cursed at me....in Korean. He also refused to do a part of the classwork because he claimed the last teacher hadn't made him do it. I believed this since that particular teacher is known for being laid back....very, very laid back with his requirements. I told him this was my class and he had to. He refused. Later a friend tossed an eraser at him, which hit him right in the crotch. He bent over in pain and I asked if he was okay, but silently acknowledged the karma at work.
My favorite student in the class is a few years younger than the rest of them. His name is Anthony, but the other teachers call him Bulldog because, well, he looks like a bulldog. Chubby, cute, and good natured and with an odd=shaped head. His hand shot up eagerly each time I asked for a volunteer. If I didn't pick him, he looked brokenhearted. I quickly began to see why the other teachers adore him.
Today I had another young elementary school class and then....................middle school. It wasn't as bad as last quarter's first day, but I was glad when class was over. There were a few kids who spoke up and volunteered after a little coaxing. One has an Australian accent, and she keeps saying "reckon" which cracks me up. She's a bit of a brown noser, but I love brown nosers. They make my job easier.
The only other semi-but-not-really-noteworthy news is that I have to work through the weekend to make up for the two days missed this week because of the swine flu scare. Hopefully it won't be too painful and, I keep reminding myself that next weekend my mom will be here!
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