Caveat: My Cancer Story As Told to Low-English 7th Graders

The kids only understand maybe 20-30% of what I say. But I repeat myself a lot, I draw a lot of pictures on the whiteboard, I've given them some key words ahead of time (cancer, surgery, etc.).

So I just talk. I actually teach this way a lot – providing kind of personalized "stories" or narratives. "Almost-comprehensible input" I call it. It's deliberately a little be above ability level. But this narrative was quite a bit longer than most I do – and more deeply personal, too.

Despite their limited understanding, their eyes were wide and they were utterly attentive throughout. They know the topic, they know it's REAL, they're fascinated.

I go off on a little bit of a political-leaning statement at the end, saying the kids should be proud of their country that they have better health insurance than in the US. I believe this, but it's also calculated – I often try to get my students to reflect that their country isn't as "poor" and "bad" as they like to believe. Koreans love to talk about how bad things are in their country, and I want them to recognize that they exist on a continuum where in some realms they're really quite well off.

I feel a little bit self-conscious posting this. It's not perfect, but it's very much how I tend to conduct a class, just on a more intensive subject than usual with a much longer "lecture" part. As I listen to it, I'm hyperaware of how much I use "filler" transition words like "so" and "and then." All of us do this, but stylistically this has become a bit of an affectation for me – I've "Koreanized" my sentence structure: I add transition words the way that Korean non-native speakers of English tend to add transition words. It sounds weird, to me, played back. But I have come to feel that especially for lower level students, it gives them something to "hang on to."

I kind of fudge on a few aspects of the story – I leave out the complicating infection and attribute my second surgery to my own talking too much. There are other corners cut in the narrative – it's not for a medical journal. But overall I think it's sincere to what I experienced. 

 

Caveat: Languagelessness

I really like this periodic table by a graphic designer named Alison Haigh. It’s utterly languageless, and I think, aside from the Mendeleev arrangement, it could be comprehended by aliens. I think if she had adopted the “wide periodic table” arrangement it would have been more “universal.”

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Caveat: Bobo County Redux

It was a very long and busy day.

I taught two actual classes – meaning officially assigned classes for which I had to have lesson plans, take attendance, etc. Although I did some substituting and visits to classes this past week, these were my first real classes since the Thursday prior to entering the hospital, which was at the end of June.

In both classes, I made part of my lesson a presentation of my cancer surgery experience. Over the years, I’ve learned that most middle-schoolers are utterly enthralled by the health problems of others, especially when conveyed as “true stories” – and nothing could be truer than pointing to my still very visible bandages and scars and saying “here” and “here.” So as far as captivating attention, I’ve rarely had a better lesson plan – but it was essentially a one-off success, in that respect.

I made a video recording of one of my presentations – to my “special Saturday” 7th graders. If it’s appealing enough, I might edit and post it – we’ll see. I really like those kids – they are what I describe as my “not advanced but always interested” class. They’re fun without being inclined to burnout, like more intense, high-level students can get sometimes.

After that, I talked with Curt and some other teachers for a while. Then Curt and I drove over to see my new apartment.

“Whaaa?” you might say.

Yesterday, out of the blue, Curt said, “Hey Jared. Do you want to upgrade your apartment?”

I said, “Of course.” I’d been recently experiencing apartment envy, after seeing my friend Peter’s apartment in Bucheon.

Next thing I know, we’re planning for me to move into an apartment in the Urim Bobo County building. It’s definitely a nicer building – newer, cleaner, and the apartment is marginally bigger (3.2 meters x 4.8 meters versus my current 3.0 meters by 4.2 meters) but more importantly, has a much better floor plan and more closet and storage space than my current apartment. Furthermore, I like the location better – it’s more “urban” and downtownish, being in the heart of what passes for downtown in Ilsan, which has always been my tendency. As a small bonus, it’s about 1 km closer to the cancer center, which is of course convenient given my new lifestyle as a cancer patient.

The fascinating irony is that this exact same Urim Bobo County building was my first apartment building when I came to Ilsan in 2007. Life keeps spinning me in circles.

Here is a picture of my new (old) apartment building, taken in September, 2007 – it was literally the first picture I took, my first day in Korea – really! The building still looks exactly the same. My new apartment is on the 9th floor (1 down from top). I will move there very slowly over the next several weeks, between cancer radiation treatments, I guess.

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After spending some time with Curt preliminarily checking out and cleaning the new apartment, I came back home, collected Andrew, and he and I went there and cleaned a little bit and evaluated some more. Then we met my friend Peter for dinner – Thai food – and then that was more like the end of our evening, walking back first to my new apartment and then after a pause there to inspect it with Peter, back to my old apartment.

Interesting things keep happening. Life is good.

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