Caveat: Masa de Harina Nixtamalera

Seungbae es uno de mis mejores amigos coreanos. Anoche cuando llegué a Suwon, me dijo de inmediato, “I think you need Mexican food.” Así, claro que me conoce bien. Nos metimos en su pequeña van amarilla y manejamos a Osan, donde cenamos fajitas y quesadillas y horchata, todas hechas por cocineros verdaderamente mexicanos. Los chilangos de Osan, Corea, con su improbable proyecto de dar a los gringos (y ¡pochos! porque así son las fuerzas militares estadunidenses, en estos días) de la base aérea ahí un sabor de su continente extrañado.

pictureHablé con el cocinero sobre el problema de encontrar la masa de harina verdademente mexicana. Me explicó lo que ya había sospechado: por alguna extraña regla proteccionista, no se permite importar la harina nixtamalera en Corea. Ésta es la harina de maíz que se usa para hacer tortillas mexicanas frescas, tamales, sopes, pupusas, etc. Me decía que cualquier otra necesidad de la cocina mexicana ha podido encontrar en Seul, menos esta. Incluso a traído maletas desde Los Angeles o Chicago o DF a este país llenas de maseca (la marca mas conocida de masa de harina).

Después de comer Seungbae y yo hablamos algunas horas acerca de las dificultades de la vida, en nuestra singular mescla de español, inglés y coreano. Es un hombre muy inteligente, con buen sentido de humor. Acerca de mis dificultades digamos emocionales con mi lugar de trabajo, me dijo: “there is no good medications except for time.” Que es exactamente la verdad, e?

Estuvo bien. Hoy voy a ver a mi otro buen amigo coreano, en Ilsan.

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Caveat: facebookkeeping

I just realized that facebook hasn't been getting my blog posts recently.  So I need to figure that problem out, again.  I've always loved the word 'bookkeeping' because it has three doubled letters in a row:  ookkee.  Hence the title.

I'm in Suwon.  I have some vacation days.  I'm trying really hard to get past the negativity I was feeling RE my efforts to learn Korean and my job situation, over the weekend.   A little trip is a good idea, but it sure is hard to motivate into starting it – I'm really glued to a non-travel status, these last several months.

Maybe I will go to Ilsan tomorrow, for old times' sake.  Not too much of a plan, although I think I should be back home by Saturday, as there are actually some things I need to get done to prep for my summer courses that start next Monday.

Caveat: The Princess Mafia

Back in 2008 I had a middle-school class called TP1. By sheer distributional accident, it was all girls. And they were not the “good student” type of girls – they were all rebellious, obnoxious, and often lazy as all hell. I tried some various gimmicks to try to keep them engaged, but ultimately the only thing that ever worked was to go “off script” and just talk about stuff. This suits me fine, actually – I think that’s the absolute BEST way to learn a language, talking about things that are interesting to one. But it raised a lot of ire with my bosses because I wasn’t making progress in the text.

pictureAnyway, way back then, I was also reading a lot of manga (Japanese serial comic book novels), and was toying with trying to write my own. The most progress I made was with a sort of concept of essentially recreating this experience of this clueless, fuddy-duddy, middle-aged, American guy trying to teach English to a bunch of trendy but disinterested Korean middle-schoolers, much more fascinated by the cute guy in the next class and their cell phones and their own reflections in the windows than in learning how to take the TOEFL.

I had named the class the “Princess Mafia,” which the girls alleged was offensive to them, but which they nevertheless seemed to adopt as a sort of badge of honor, and would bandy it about. And that became the working title of my little manga.

I did some plotting and framing on it, but my artistic skills are unpracticed. And then it sort of faded from my mind, as a project. Recently, however, I ran across some pages of character studies I’d made. I wonder… it still seems to have some potential. At right:  Hannah.

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Caveat: Sulk. Sulk.

One of the things about the Thursday-Friday school staff fieldtrip that got me really depressed was the fact that I didn’t receive a lot of positive encouragement in my efforts to speak or understand Korean. I felt frequently ridiculed and mocked.

I’ve indicated before, on this blog, that right now, in my life, trying to get better at Korean is near the top of my list of priorities. Call that quixotic, or peculiar, or pointless. But it’s true.

So to the extent that the fieldtrip, and my interactions with some of my coworkers, squashed my optimism and enjoyment of trying to learn the language, it was was a real downer. And so… what have I done, today, in the wake of this?

I felt crappy. I didn’t go off to Seoul, as I’d planned – I lacked motivation. I had zero interest in going out into the Korean-speaking world. I sulked. This is bad behavior. I know.

Here are some pictures taken during the better part of the trip, done with my cell phone, so they have rather poor resolution. We were climbing the mountain Daedun.

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And here are the principal and vice principal, plotting some new humiliation – or maybe (more likely) just being clueless and cold-hearted, in a good-natured and paternalistic way.

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Caveat: The Hongnong Alcohol Blacklist

I have just returned from the worst 24 hours I’ve ever spent in Korea. Well, maybe there were a few 24 hour periods back when I was a soldier in the US Army stationed at Camp Edwards, up in Paju, (DMZ/Munsan/Ilsan) that were worse. But I’m just sayin.

My biggest mistake was that I’ve recently been relaxing my formerly teetotaller approach to alcohol – since my trip to Japan, when I made the breakthrough realization (or recollection – call it “personal historical revisionism”) that one of the reasons I managed to learn Spanish effectively in the 1980’s was because I wasn’t adverse to falling under the influence. It lowers inhibitions, which is a big issue with language-learning.

But this school that I work for – well, they’re a tribe of “college-frat-party”-worthy binge alcoholics. And that’s not my thing. Never has been my thing – even when I was doing my own share of binge-drinking myself, back in college.

Maybe I’ll give a detailed breakdown, later.

Let’s just say, I was witness to manifold unkindnesses, and became depressed, despondent and angry. I was in tears when I got home to my tiny Yeonggwang apartment. I haven’t been there, in quite a while – in tears, I mean.

I hold it all in: the anger, the tears. Bottled up. And then it comes out, when I can finally get alone, even though the drunk moment has passed. Alcohol sucks. And I’ve always been a weepy, grumpy, judgmental drunk – I know this about myself.

Hell. I know I can never renew at this school – alcohol reveals depths and truths about people, and although there are many kind and wonderful people working at Hongnong Elementary, none of those kind and wonderful types are the ones running things – the manager-types showed their true selves pretty effectively, as far as I’m concerned. And not in their own favor, frankly.

I will survive this contract. I can avoid the management types, mostly. But they are cruel, unkind people, who furthermore insist on excusing their cruelty as “tradition” and “Korean culture.” Fine. I know, confidently, that there are other types of Korean culture: types that don’t require cajoling people to get drunk, that don’t require laughing at (not with) underlings, that don’t require groping female employees.

Mr Kim (remember him? – the PE teacher) was actually among those who were pretty kind to me. He seemed a bit disgusted with how out of control the alcohol games got, too. He explained to me, mostly in Korean (with a dictionary in hand), that we should make a Hongnong Alcohol Blacklist, and that the first three members included certain highly placed individuals in the school’s administrative staff. I laughed at that, and he was sullenly pleased that he’d managed to make a joke across the cultural and linguistic divide.

Okay. That’s enough.

Looking out the window of the bus, coming home, I saw a cloud with a silver lining. Literally. Korea is a beautiful country. And there were enough “off to the side” kindnesses shown to me in my sadness, today, that I know better than to give up on the humanity of Koreans. Generalization and stereotyping are almost always really bad ideas.


Here’s a mountain or two, that I saw.

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Caveat: Work Related Excursion

I'm in Daejeon with my coworkers.  The whole school staff piles into a bus, the moment the kids have left campus for the start of summer vacation earlier today.  We drive to Daedunsan (Muju), the more ambitious hike some trails (I'll post some cellphone pics later), we drive to Daejeon, and have a hweh-sik with way too much beer, soju and makkeolli flowing.  Now I'm in a hotel, and my roommates, being high on the seniority list, have been socially obligated to go drink some more.  I've bowed out.  Tired, and, as many know, I don't enjoy drinking too much.  I'm feeling deeply melancholy as it is.  I don't need more.

Caveat: 티처 좀 외계인처럼

A student said this to me today:  티처 좀 외계인처럼 [ti-cheo jom weh-gye-in-cheo-reom = teacher a little like an alien].  She was talking about me.  I was flattered.
Sometimes I’m definitely an alien.  Or among aliens.  Or something like that.   This seemed very true when I walked down the hall to the 4-1 classroom, where teachers were seated on the floor playing Korean percussion instruments:  사물놀이 [sa-mul-nor-i].  They were practicing for the school concert that was later this evening (I attended, and may post some video from that, later).
I really like 사물놀이.  Here’s some video.

Caveat: 여름방학

Today is supposedly the last day of school before summer vacation (여름방학).  Summer vacation for students, that is.  And many (if not most) students will be attending summer camps and hagwon for most of the summer – that's the Korean way.  I will be teaching school-run summer classes for the month of August, and I will get next week off.   But I have to continue coming to work this week, as there are many things going on for staff at Hongnong Elementary.  Sometimes it seems a little pointless to have to stay, despite the fact that most of the staff goings-on aren't relevant to a non-Korean-speaking foreigner.

But I'm not sure I really agree with those who vilify the "desk warming" phenomenon.   It's what you make of it.  Most of the staff in a school during these desk-warming days are quite busy:  making plans, rearranging classrooms, preparing presentations for the school talent night, etc.  If one chooses to take the time to interact with these people, and offer to help, you can build a lot of goodwill and it can be a learning experience, too.  

Yesterday, I had only one regular class (the others were "cancelled").  And I did a little desk-warming, I admit – surfing blogs on the internet.  But I also spent some highly productive time developing lesson plans for one of my summer classes, along with the person I'll be co-teaching it with.  And I accompanied one of the third grade teachers with her class to the gym for a highly entertaining PE class, where I kind of had the role of observer / English-speaking kibitzer.  And on Monday, I had my morning classes canceled and the kids for my first grade afternoon class didn't show up, but I was very busy developing detailed program plans for my other summer classes (for which I won't have a co-teacher).  I was working "above and beyond" as they say, making more detailed plans than requested.

Nothing is more effective in building goodwill among unpredictable Korean administrators than unexpected displays of competence and dedication, in my experience.  Actually, that applies to more-or-less competent administrators anywhere.  Korean administrators aren't incompetent – they're just different.   They're operating by different cultural rules, that for them and their underlings are largely transparent.  These rules are only opaque and seem crazy to us Westerners because we haven't grown up within them.

Caveat: Climbing a secret mountain

Living life is like climbing a secret mountain, sometimes.  I climb up, pushing really hard, and then I reach some part of the trail where the terrain follows a ridge for a while, or dips down to a small valley for a time.  The trail is easier, but I also feel as if I'm not making any progress, or I lose sight of my objectives.  The metaphorical peak of the mountain is obscured by metaphorical trees, and I sit down somewhere beside the trail to drink makkeolli and eat kimbap – metaphorically, of course.

I haven't been doing much with my free time, lately.  But that down time… the dead time… feels necessary.  Sometimes I need to do just nothing.

Caveat: Eingrsh

This is not a satire.  I had a student recently who actually spelled "English" as "Eingrsh" – which perhaps was an effort to approximate the Konglish pronunciation of said language.

I have finally figured out how to deal with the use of the phrase "nice to meet you" as a general purpose, anytime greeting.  I answer with "저음 뵙겠습니다! [cheo-eum bwep-get-seum-ni-da]"  This translates, literally, as "For the first time I will be seeing your honored person," but it's the general way of saying "how do you do?" upon a first meeting.  By answering their "nice to meet you"'s in this way, I can convey to my students, clearly, that "nice to meet you" isn't what we use, in English, for subsequent meetings.  Why do they say it, then?  Because they're translating the Korean "만나서 반갑습니다 [man-na-seo ban-gap-seum-ni-da]," which translates literally as "nice to meet you" but is used whenever you're glad to see anyone.

Caveat: Perseverance Predicted

I sometimes look at tarot cards.

pictureIt’s not that I believe that they’re predictive.  I’m dedicatedly anti-spiritualist; I’m deeply anti-transcendentalist. I don’t believe in any kind of magic, I don’t believe anything supernatural, religious or otherwise. Nevertheless, I’ve always been fascinated by tarot cards. They are symbolically “loaded” and full of interesting interpretative possibilities. In field of semiotics, they might be termed “hypersignifiers.” I guess I view them as a sort of self-administered Rohrsach test, when I lay them out.

Anyway, this morning, I laid out three cards. Recent past, present moment, upcoming near-term future. The meanings of the “past” and “present” cards were unremarkable: ambiguous and uninteresting to me. But the “future” card was striking… in its irrelevance. It was the nine of wands. The interpretative meanings are:

Perseverance — Persisting despite all setbacks and against all odds
Having the hidden reserves to prevail, to defend what is yours
Boundary issues, being defensive
Defining your “space”
“That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”

I distinctly remember thinking: that doesn’t seem to apply to my near future. The recent past, maybe. But just now, I feel as if I’ve reached a kind of equilibrium with respect to my living situation and work, finally. I’ve been settling in. I thought: something would have to get much more messed up for that kind of near-term future to be meaningful or important.

But by the end of the day, today, I was muttering “perseverance, perseverance” to myself. Yes, things felt messed up at school, today. Not for me, directly – but I was witness to some majorly messed-up personnel management (which in-and-of-itself is no surprise in a Korean workplace, admittedly). I won’t describe it in detail – it’s an ongoing crisis, and not really my business, and involves people who probably know about this blog, too. Maybe I’ll discuss details later.

For some reason, I have a really hard time watching other people being treated badly in their work. Even when they somewhat deserve it or have brought upon themselves, as I’m certain is the case, here. But the situation still reeks of injustice and inhumane management. And hypocrisy – that always bugs me. And I have to deal with feeling caught in the middle. I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t have a solution that anyone appreciates or even wants to hear. I don’t want to have to watch it play out in slow motion in the staff room beside me. It makes my life unpleasant. So the rest of it checks out as well. Example: boundary issues – why am I being drawn into this? Why do I have to watch and comment on this?

OK.  I still don’t believe tarot are predictive. But, it was a day with interesting psychological resonances. I’m just going to sit by, and try to keep my face looking like the guy in the picture, above.

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Caveat: Dawn over dumptrucks

I would say most mornings here lately are thickly overcast if not foggy.  Unless it's raining.  In fog aspect, the summer here is a bit like in California.  But the rain is what makes it different.  A lot of rain, this weekend – yesterday was just sheets and sheets of it in the morning.

Despite not sleeping well last night, I woke up at dawn, which seems to be becoming my habit.  I had a sore neck – sleeping on it wrong or something.   There was fog out my window… but when I looked up, the sky was pale blue, and streaked with gold and pink.  The forested hills are deep green, and there are shreds of mist across the peaks.   It's like a postcard.  Except for the three dumptrucks arrayed at the gas station in the foreground.

As you might guess from the title of this blog, however, I feel OK about dumptrucks – Korea's national vehicle. 

Caveat: What?

I often tell people that one of my hobbies is writing.  I do write, obviously.  I write things on my blog.  And I often write blog entries that I never post, because they're either uninteresting (even to me), or because they feel too personal, or too ambitious, or something like that.  But I haven't made any forward progress on any of my stories or poetry or "novels" in a long time.   I've been feeling annoyed by this.  And yesterday, I was talking with two of my Korean colleagues, in a homebound carpool, and they wanted to know details.  What was my novel about?  What kind of novel was it?  And I realized I really didn't like what I have.  I certainly wouldn't share it, the way I share these random bloggiations.  Why?  That's hard to understand.  

Caveat: Monkey Meme

pictureThe monkey meme continues to spread like wildfire through the fifth grade. Yesterday I had students announcing to me:

  • 1) “I’m a crazy monkey girl!”;
  • 2) “I’m a zombie monkey! Uh! Ohhh!”;
  • 3) “I’m a lovely [by which I think she meant loving or kind] monkey!”;
  • 4) “I’m a happy monkey!”

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Caveat: Very Important Subject

My morning carpool (riding with two Korean teachers who happen to live in Yeonggwang, most mornings) is sort of an impromptu Korean Language lesson, many times.  But yesterday morning I was unable to grasp on to what they were talking about, and I just sort of zoned out.

As we pulled off the expressway and slowed at the traffic light in Beopseongpo, Cheorho (whose English is pretty good) turned to me and asked, "Do you understand what we've been talking about?"

"No, sorry," I answer, truthfully.

"Alcohol.  술," he explained.  "Beer and soju, which is better."

I respond, laughing slightly, "I think that's a very common topic in Korea."

"Very important subject," he nodded, gravely.

"네," chimed in Hyeongyeon.

Caveat: Hongnong Skyline

The view from the new, probably temporary English-teachers’ staff room, taken last Friday when it was rainy and steamy-hot, right after the chaotic move.

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Note that even a town as small as Hongnong has some high-rises, the cookie-cutter 20-storey apartment buildings that are ubiquitous in Korea. The overall population of the town is probably about 15,000, I would estimate. Not big enough for a traffic light, by Korea standards. But they have a 7-11. And about a dozen churches.

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Caveat: Crazy Monkey Boys

One of my favorite movies is “The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.” It’s a weird movie, and funny. There’s a line in there in which John Lithgow’s character, Dr Lizardo (AKA John Whorfin, the evil Lectroid from Planet 10), says “Laugh while you can, monkey boy.” And the term “monkey boy” arises at other points in the movie, too.

I was hanging out with some rather hyperactive and English-deficient 5th grade boys during a recess period, recently, and started aping some of the Lithgow lines from the movie, using Dr Lizardo’s over-the-top fake Italian accent. The concept of “monkey boy” was something these boys were able to wrap their minds around, and so it became a bit of an out-of-control meme. I added the prefix “crazy” to it, and in that form it became a form of address, as in, “what are you doing, crazy monkey boy?”

The boys love it. And now, anytime they see me, they say, in good English (if somewhat Italianesque-sounding, a la Dr Lizardo), “I’m a crazy monkey boy!” I think the other English teachers are annoyed with this. But my thinking is: at least one of these boys may never have uttered a coherent sentence in English before this meme took off, and in that sense, I’ve taught some English.

It’s funny to imagine this will be something they always remember. I can imagine a scenario in which one of these boys, someday grown up and in his 20’s or something, is in some setting where he meets a foreigner, and decides to say the only thing he knows in English: “Laugh while you can, monkey boy!”

Here are two pictures of some of these boys, monkeying around in the hall (I’m pretty sure they’re miming some kind of pregnancy and birth scenario – note that the one has his head up under the shirt of the other!):

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Caveat: 스님

스님 (seunim) means Buddhist monk.  It’s an honorific form of address used in talking to monks, too.
Over the weekend, I cut my hair.  When I cut my hair, I tend to get it very short, because I’m lazy and by cutting it super short that makes it possible to avoid a haircut for a long time, afterward.  So my hair has become very short – military “basic training” style.
Most of my students noticed the haircut.  They would say, “Teacher!  Hair?”  or the less linguistically confident would just  point at their heads and say “머리?” (meori = head or hairstyle).
One student, who goes by the English name of Angelina, came up to me very gravely as my afterschool class was starting.  The tiny 3rd grader put her palms together and bowed.  “스님,” she said.  It was a very clever joke, and funny.  Even though my hair really wasn’t short enough to be a monk.

Caveat: forgot-the-world

I went on a long walk on Saturday.  It was a spontaneous, random thing, but I forgot my camera and my phone.  I was just out wandering.  I really like Korea.  And this rural part that I'm in, nowadays, is stunningly verdant.

But I've been pretty down, lately, for more personal reasons.  And yesterday (Sunday) I felt kind of sick.  Maybe inhaling too many allergens on Saturday, or not eating very healthily, lately, or just summer blues overtaken by too many kid-germs.  I don't know.

I played a game on my computer – something I generally avoid falling into, because I know I have some addictive tendencies in that direction.  And suddenly the day was past – I forgot to go shopping, forgot to do any writing, forgot the world.

I'm having plain rice and coffee for breakfast.  Weird hybrid breakfast.

Caveat: This Is Happening

Yes.

I recently downloaded the latest album by dance-punk outfit LCD Soundsystem. It’s really good. I’ve collected a few of their tracks prior to this, and thought they were snappy and clever, but not like “great art” in the field of contemporary pop music.

pictureBut this album crosses over to that status, for me.  There are snippets and tastes of some of my favorite groups’ styles: Modest Mouse, Radiohead, Talking Heads, Magnetic Fields, even weird old progressive rock stuff like King Crimson. Not just one or two good tracks – I think I could move 5 or 6 of them over to my “top rated” list for heavy rotation on the mp3 gadgets.

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Caveat: Bernie-the-cat was a good cat

I learned, in an email from my father, that my cat (well, ex-cat?  ex mine, anyway) was put down. She was 15 years old, and had been sick for a long time.

Bernie was a good cat. We got her as a tiny kitten in February, 1995, in St Paul, Minnesota. Here is a picture of her, from 1997, in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, where Michelle and I lived at that time. She was a well-traveled cat, having lived in 5 states and driven across parts of the country at least twice.

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I get to harbor guilt feelings about this death, too. People and animals, whom I leave behind, and then they die. Michelle and Bernie had a link – I would call it a “dysfunctional relationship with Jared” link. So it’s a fitting time for Bernie to go, I suppose – today is very close to the exact 10-year anniversary of Michelle’s suicide.

Another awesome pic, from a drive across Texas/New Mexico in 2007. Note that she was a very good “car cat” – she would just sit and look out the windows for hours on end.

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Caveat: Korea… contingent chaos, constant quasi catastrophe

Today was one of those chaotic days.  Yet I feel OK about it.  It's weird how some things affect me, and other things, that seem to so profoundly affect others around me, slide over me with barely an impact.  Some types of chaos I can handle, others I can't.

Today they decided to announce that they were going to start remodeling the language classrooms – immediately.  That meant we had to move to a different place, a kind of supplementary staff room, and teach our after-school classes in a who-knows-where location. 

I wish I had taken pictures of the parade of children helping move all the stuff from the language classrooms.  It all seemed very communitarian. 

Well anyway.  Such is Korea.  Sometimes, given how institutions and groups make and execute decisions, it's puzzling to me how they've been so successful

Caveat: Soul mate

Tuesday was the 10th anniversary of my estranged wife’s suicide. That sounds strange: “estranged.” I feel there would be something dishonest to simply write: “my wife’s suicide” – because if she hadn’t died, we’d be divorced by now – I have no doubt. It’s only on technical grounds that I’m a widower and not a run-of-the-mill divorced guy.

pictureBut the imperfection between us was not a perfect imperfection. Which is to say, there were important, significant, good things between us. And I miss those, sometimes. We had agreed, early on, that we were not “soul mates.” Which was something we both, nevertheless, believed in. Which meant that we knew that ours was an imperfect match. But we were friends – even best friends, for a long time. We could talk about stuff. Or argue about stuff.

Some time back, surfing around the internet, I ran across the following quote, embedded in someone’s blog:

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down the walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

This is a definition of “soul mate” that I find challenging. And interesting. Yet… by that definition, there is no doubt that Michelle was, in fact, my soul mate.

[Shown above, one of my favorite pictures of Michelle, with her son (my stepson), Jeffrey, at her University of Minnesota graduation. She had become a chemical engineer, earlier that day.]

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Caveat: Riding down, riding up, riding along…

It was a very up-and-down day.  Or down-and-up day.  Or something like that.  Great mood!  Terrible mood.  Great mood!  Terrible mood!  Great mood.  Like that.

First, I was in a good mood.  I had really good classes with the preschoolers.  I could tell they liked me.  I could tell the Korean teachers over there like me.  I thought we had fun with the kids, too.  We did monkeys jumping on the bed.  We read a story about drawing rainbows, and then we drew rainbows.  We talked about colors.

Then I was in a bad mood.  We were testing the kids, today, for the 4th graders.  It was kind of a last-minute thing.  Maybe not for everyone, but for me, since I'd only heard about it yesterday.  Communication (and lack thereof) works that way, in Korean workplaces.  And my coteacher for the 4th graders changed how she wanted me to do the "speaking part" of the test at literally the very last minute.  So I felt like I was testing the kids without much of a footing.  But I tried my best.  I kind of know where these kids stand, ability-wise, at this point, anyway.  So, as usual, some of that subjectivity came into play.

Then I was in a good mood.  Lunch was tasty, and at least a dozen kids said, "teacher teacher!"  and I said, "what?" and they said, "hi!"  

And then I was in a terrible mood.  Haewon said that lesson plans for the month of July for the afterschool program were due today.  I doubted this (and, retrospectively, I was right – no one said a thing about lesson plans today – they WOULD normally have been due today, but today was staff volleyball day, and volleyball trumps minor administrative things like monthly lesson plans).  I had been planning to work on my lesson plans and finish them tomorrow, since I have an easy schedule on Thursdays.  But grumblingly, I set to work on my plans in my one free period of the day, after lunch.  And I finished them up, roughly.  And printed them out.

And then it was staff volleyball day, and Beopseongpo Elementary came to Hongnong for inter-school staff competition.

And I was in a good mood, because I saw my colleague Donna, who works there at Beopseongpo and who I had gotten to know during training back in April.  Donna's cool.  Very clear headed.  Kind.

And then Mr Kim (the PE teacher, and exactly like PE teachers anywhere, in any culture – he requires no further description) asked me to join the team, during game number three among the men staff.  I was thinking that because it was inter-school play, the game was too important for such a bad volleyball player as myself to be included.  But I took it as a friendly gesture that he was inviting me to join.  But too much was on the line:  it was one game to each school, and Hongnong was losing.  So after about a third of the game, he was making disgusted facial expressions and he switched me out.  I mean… I understand, from a "gotta win" perspective – I don't belong on the volleyball court.  I know this.  But it feels just as humiliating now as it did in highschool PE in 1981.  I'm better at "solitary" sports: running, hiking, etc.  I'm terribly uncoordinated.

And I was in a terrible mood.  I was walking to catch a bus home to Yeonggwang, feeling dejected and grumpy.

And then one of the preschool teachers, with three hyperactive preschoolers bouncing good-naturedly in the back of her car, pulls to a stop beside me on the streets of Hongnong and asks me where I'm going.  In Korean.  And I answer.  And she offers me a ride.  She's going that way – one of these kids isn't hers, and she's got to deliver him to his mom.  So I get in and  I ride with this frazzled mom/teacher and three very happy, excited (because the English foreigner teacher is riding in their car!), loud children down the expressway to Yeonggwang.  

I'm in a great mood.  The mom is talking to me in a sort of gentle Korean monologue of which I understand more than I expect but less than I need, punctuated with entirely comprehensible, repeated reminders to the kids to sit still, stop kicking the seat, don't throw things please, etc., etc.  The life of moms and preschool teachers, anywhere.

And she drops the kid with the kid's mom at the main intersection in Yeonggwang, where's she waiting with her car.  And she drops me off at the traffic circle, a block south closer to my apartment, and goes zooming off, reminding the kids to stop bouncing in the back, but smiling kindly.

And I realize I've left my cellphone on the seat of her car.  Which is bad enough.  But if it was just that, I'd have lived without a cellphone until I could chase her down tomorrow at work.  But my apartment key is dangling on a bauble attached to my cellphone.  I can't get into my apartment.  And I can't call anyone to say that I can't get into my apartment. 

So I'm in a terrible mood.  Trying to think of what I should do.  Stay in a motel for the night?  At least I have my wallet.  Find a pay phone… and call someone who can call someone else to find out this woman's number so I can call her and get my cellphone and apartment key?  What to do, what to do?

And then  I recognize the other mom, driving by.  The one we just left the little boy with, at the other intersection.  I flag her down.  And in my halting Korean, I explain I've left my phone in the other woman's car.  She grins, and scoops up her own cellphone and speed-dials her friend, the woman I'd just had a ride with.  Explains that I'd forgotten my cellphone, and tells me she'll zoom back to the traffic circle shortly.

Did I mention it was raining?

I wait in the rain for 4 minutes, and the white Hyundai zooms back up with the frazzled, friendly mom-slash-coworker, and she rolls down the window and the little boy in the back hands me my cell phone.  "아주 고마워요," I bow gratefully.

I'm in a great mood, as I walk back home to the distant rumbling of thunder.  

Caveat: Handwriting

I was having a problem, when I started out, with my first graders “lying” about who they were. They would switch names with each other when I was calling attendance. I was generally able to sort things out… but it often would eat up 10 to 15 minutes of class time, and would tend to put them in a rowdy mood.

For that, however, I discovered a fairly elegant solution. I have them write their names on little slips of paper that I hand to them as they enter the classroom. For whatever reason, they don’t seem as comfortable making stuff up in writing – partly, at that age, it’s pride in being able to put their own names in writing. Also, I think part of the fun in name-switching is that it’s a performance for their peers, which having them write mostly eliminates. I insist that they write their Korean names – “English names” are too fluid and their level of ownership of them is weak at best.

But this has the consequence that I have to decipher a bunch of 7 year-olds’ hangeul handwriting. So far, I’ve always managed fine, except in an instance where the kid only put down a family name (이 = Lee) – which, given how Korean family names work, managed to narrow it down to 7 possibilities! Here is a picture 4 examples of hangeul handwriting that I feel particularly proud of having been able to decipher.

picture

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Caveat: Gray overcast days

Summer has arrived in Korea:  humid, warm weather, with clouds and constant promises of rain.   I'm using my weekend-time very efficiently.  Not.

Having had a difficult day on Friday left me carrying around some negativity about my work – or, more specifically, feelings of negativity about my compentency at my work.  I refuse to scapegoat my shortcomings as a foreign English teacher in a Korean school on perceived inadequacies in how Koreans have opted to run their education system, which is the easy course that so many of my colleagues teaching in Korea seem to have taken.  Then again, the most unappealing thing I could pursue here in this blog is to carry on in a negative way about other people's negativity. 

Sigh.

Caveat: 10 years

This week is the 10th anniversary of Michelle's suicide.

I was trying to write some long sort of reflection on it all.  But instead…  I just feel kind of desolate.

We had separated, but neither of us had moved to actually divorce.  I was in L.A.   She was in Philadelphia.  We were talking on the phone about once every 2 weeks.  I knew she was in a bad situation.

She asked me, during a phone call in early June, 2000:  "Do you think we could ever be back together, again?"

"No.  I don't think it's possible," I said.

In late June, she called again.  We talked for a long time.  Almost like friends.  But there was a lot of sadness.  "I think there's a better place for me," she said.

I knew what this meant.  I'd already booked a ticket to fly out to Philly when I got the call from her mom that she had died.

Caveat: 쭈쭈!

I’m sorry if that title offends anyone.  Learning a language is fraught with difficulties – and one of them is that people are reluctant to talk about “bad words,” but somehow we must nevertheless learn them.
I had an unfortunate day, today.  Specifically, my afterschool first grade class (difficult to manage even on regular days), was just too wild.  I had one kid throwing things.  I mean, REALLY throwing things.  He nailed me on the head with rather hefty crayon – THWACK!
So I took him aside and yelled at him a bit.  These are little kids.  How do you manage this, when you don’t have a co-teacher who can speak Korean, nearby?  My Korean Language skill isn’t adequate to express my feelings about this kind of behavior in a convincing way to the kids.
And then there was the kid drawing pornography.  I mean, seriously… he’s what, seven (or at most 8 or 9, if you want to count in the Korean style which gives people extra years)?  I suppose kids will be be kids, and draw weird stuff, sometimes.  But he was drawing anatomically correct, adult-looking women and even coloring between the lines!
And that wasn’t enough.  The clincher is that he was then running around the room, yelling “쭈쭈!  쭈쭈!”   And all the kids thought this was hilarious.
This gem of vocabulary isn’t in any dictionary, nor online.  And it’s not something I could figure out by typing “쭈쭈 meaning english” into google, either.  Nevertheless, somewhat eerily, Korean language spellcheckers don’t flag it as wrong, either.  It’s a “secret” word?
My best guess, based on the child’s illustrations, combined with some weird dance moves two of the other boys started doing, is that it means “tits.”  Charming.  If any of my better-at-Korean-than-I readers want to provide me with some reassurance that my reading isn’t too far off, I’d appreciate it, but I realize it may be a bit awkward.
I couldn’t find a Korean teacher anywhere in my wing, when I finally got fed up and decided to try to find someone to talk to the boy in Korean.  I ended up hauling him down to the staff room, but that was a bit awkward, since I walked in saying “쭈쭈” myself, among other things, but I found the principal and vice principal in there, in some kind of high-level-looking meeting.   Ah well, I left the boy with my colleague.  Hopefully things will sort out on Monday.

Caveat: Anosognosia

Thinking about Rumsfeldian unknown unknowns.  What are they?  I was contriving a paradox:  the epistemologist who didn't know he was one.

I'm still weirdly obsessed with the McChrystal drama.  By accepting his resignation, has Obama created a MacArther-type monster, that will be a martyr and icon for the tea partiers?  Isn't that dangerous?  Or… has a back-room deal been cut, that will grant McChrystal some new role after an appropriate cooling-off period?  I understand the chain-of-command / civilian-control argument that said "McChrystal must go," but I think this was a very risky move for Obama politically.  Was there a better solution, though? 

Yesterday, the staff volleyball game wasn't played – most of the teachers were all working hard preparing for some sort of inspection / observation / review that seems to be coming up.  I'm not clear on the details of this.   On the one hand, staff volleyball stresses me out, because I'm really very bad at volleyball, and it's mildly humiliating.  On the other hand, I look forward to it because I actually understand that it is valuable in building a sense of colleague-ship and community with the Korean teachers, which is what it's "for," obviously.

As a foreign teacher, it's so easy to feel isolated and cut-off from everyone, and one thing I find myself shocked to be missing about LBridge is the "staff room" – I used to dread the staff room!  But it did give me a chance to sort of gauge the "mood" of everyone, over time, whereas here, because I have my own classroom to lurk in, I'm quite isolated.

Caveat: 또 심심해?

Yesterday at lunchtime, after I finished eating at the cafeteria, I was sitting in my classroom doing some last-minute changes to my lesson plans for my afternoon classes (which I teach on my own). Normally, a tribe of sixth-grade girls comes in and watch music videos on the computer during this stretch of time, but since I was monopolizing the computer, they quickly found something else to do and somewhere else to be, except for the two girls who were formally tasked with lunch-period cleanup duty for my classroom.

Then a first-grade girl appeared beside my desk. It was the same girl who had spent a good 30 minutes loitering in my classroom last Friday – she’s one of the enrollees in my first-grade afterschool class, but since the first-graders get out after lunch (they have no fifth period), these kids often have nothing to do while they wait for fifth period to end so their class can start.

Anyway, this girl has ZERO English. She doesn’t even know the alphabet thoroughly. But she’s clearly quite smart, in my opinion, and very earnest, too. I appreciate that she’s managed to figure out that I actually am able to understand her, if she takes the time to slow down her Korean and repeat herself to me with patience. That’s rare (or nigh impossible) to find in even adult Koreans, to be honest.

She appeared beside my desk.

[The following reported Korean is from memory, and any errors in the grammar or vocabulary on the girl’s part are the result of my poor Korean Language skills combined with my bad memory, rather than things the girl might have said in that way. On the other hand, reported poor Korean Language on my part is probably exactly what I said.]

The student: “뭐이예?” Staring intently at my screen, and hopping up and down slightly.

Jared: “Lesson plan.”

The student: “이멜?”

Jared: “No. Work.”

The student: “오오…” Heavy, dramatic sigh. “또 심심할 것 같아…”

Jared: “Bored, again?” She made wide eyes, so I added, “오늘 다시 심심해?” She had complained of boredom on Friday, too.

The student, giggling: “예. 또 심심해.”

Jared: “Don’t be bored! 심심하기금지!”

The student frowned.

Jared: “뭘 하기 좋겠어?”

The student shrugged. She looks around the classroom speculatively.

Jared, realizing he needs to print something in the staff room: “C’mon. Let’s go.”

The student says something I don’t understand, looking puzzled as I pop out my USB drive from the computer and move out the classroom door. So I add, “가자,” and gesture her to follow me.

The student: “어디 [something something]?”

Jared: “Office. Printer.” She doesn’t understand. Emphasizing the slightly different Korean pronunciation of “printer,” I add, “프린터 피료해.”

The student: “아아… 교실에서 프린터 없으니까…”

Jared: “예, 마자. You’re my assistant.”

The student looked very pleased.

We arrived at the office, and I inserted my USB drive and printed my two pages. I point her to the printer, and she went over and collected them. She carried them right in front of her, looking down at them proudly as if they were her own achievement. She walked all the way back to my classroom that way, as if carrying a religious chalice.

When we got back to the classroom, she raced to my desk and placed them squarely on the corner, ceremoniously, and looked up at me grinning.

Jared: “My assistant. Good job! Thank you.”

Sixth-grade girls, in unison: “Oh. Cute!

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