As some of you know, one of my strange hobbies is designing imaginary countries. This is a very useless hobby, but one close to my heart.
Yesterday, I drew a capitol building for one of those countries: Capitolio de la Federación Ardesférica. The drawing is derivative, of course. I combined some ideas from other domed buildings that I found online. But the sketch is entirely my own, and only a sketch – about 15 minutes’ work.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
On Friday, I drew these alligators (at right) on the whiteboard for my youngest students (1st and 2nd graders).
Yesterday was my last "naesin vacation" Saturday, meaning I didn't have to work, but will have to work next Saturday. My friend Peter came out to Ilsan and we had dinner and walked around a lot and talked a lot. I think he was feeling nostalgic for when he lived in Ilsan. Anyway, it was good to get out of the house.
He loaned me a book I want to read, Hamel's Journal, a book written by a Dutch man who spent a long time in Korea in the 17th century. I'll write more about it when I get around to reading it.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
My student Mark, who is in the 6th grade, was getting teased by a pair of girls about which one of them he liked. One of the girls, Julie, said something like, "Teacher, something is wrong. Mark likes both of us."
I think this wasn't actually true – I'm not sure he likes either of them. But the girl was teasing him by drawing me, the English teacher, into the conversation. And since it was in English, I felt compelled to join the conversation.
He was being good-natured about it, so I bantered with him a bit. Mark has a very self-confident, somewhat laconic personality. Eventually, I asked him, "Are you a Casanova?"
For whatever mysterious reason, most Koreans know the name "Casanova" – it's been borrowed into Korean slang to be used the way American teens might say "player," I think – a boy who has multiple girlfriends, either at once or serially.
Mark shrugged. "What's a Casanova?"
Julie laughed. "You don't know Casanova?" She seemed surprised. She leaned over, and whispered in his ear – presumably giving a Korean definition. When he understood, he visibly blushed. But he was quiet for a minute, as if considering the question seriously.
Finally, he said with a kind of calm aplomb, "Not yet."
He's good enough at English that I could be confident he knew what he was implying by saying it that way.
I laughed at that.
[daily log: my foot hurts]
I experienced another difficult staff meeting last night. Why is my patience so thin about the issues that come up, lately? I feel as if there has been a substantial uptick in parental complaints about my "too loose" classroom style, and these are hard for me to have to confront. Philosophically I believe in a "loose" classroom (by which I mean playful but also forgiving from the standpoint of both academic and behavioral shortcomings), and my personality inclines me toward it too, but Korean parents are almost all hardcore disciplinarians, and they don't even get why a "loose" classroom might have benefits from a pedagogical or child-developmental standpoint.
I can't win those arguments, and in fact I'm rarely presented with an opportunity to even try to present my case. I think Curt has tolerated my style for as long as he has because he, personally, does see the benefit of it – he's remarkably progressive in his methodological inclinations – but he's not much of a salesman for it, and as with many business owners, he will let the winds of customer preference push him around. More crucially to my own issues, all of the other staff at Karma rigidly lean in the "anti-loose" direction – including the other non-Korean teachers. I stand alone without support, amid proliferating demands that I adopt a more rigid classroom management style. I can do this, but doing so tends to lessen my enjoyment of teaching – and as I've said many times before, I ain't in this for the money.
My mood is dark.
Meanwhile – tangentially – some stoic comedy.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Everyone knows I have a tendency to procrastinate.
Around New Year's, I decided I needed a new shelf, to put things on next to my kitchen area. I was tired of things stacked up on my very limited counter space.
I was at the HomePlus store, and I bought one of those assemble-at-home made-in-China IKEA-style shelf units. I brought it home and propped up the flat cardboard box against the wall by my doorway. I thought to myself, I need to build that shelf sometime.
A month later, I saw that box by the doorway, and realized I hadn't built it. I moved it to behind my desk, where I could see as I sat at my desk. I thought to myself, I need to build that shelf sometime.
Two months passed. I figured I needed to make it more prominent, in order to catch my attention. So I placed the box on floor, flat, at the foot of where I roll out my bed. I thought to myself, I need to build that shelf sometime.
I tripped over it several times, and that was annoying. I could have built the shelf. Instead, I moved it back behind my desk. I thought to myself, I need to build that shelf sometime.
Two months later, I thought again that I should make it more noticeable. In a moment of inspiration, I put the box leaning against the wall right where I intended it to go. It was a good reminder, but it kept getting in the way when I wanted to cook or do laundry. I thought to myself, I need to build that shelf sometime.
Yesterday, I opened the box and laid the pieces across my apartment floor. I tripped over them a few times. Then I built the shelf (picture above right, in its spot).
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Almost three decades ago now, I had a student job at the University of Minnesota's Library Binderies. Of all the various student jobs I had, it was probably my favorite. On the one hand, it was also the most "blue collar," as such things go – except maybe my brief stint working at janitorial services – and thus there was a degree of drudgery involved. Not to mention, the kind of danger one associates with factory work, summed up in the time I chopped off the end of my finger on a giant paper-cutting machine, which the state-of-the-art U of M hospitals successfully re-attached. On the other hand, the job gave a surprising satisfaction to see an actual product emerge as a result of my work, and further, many of my coworkers were pleasant to work with and kind to me, many times. I even developed out-of-work friendships with several.
I also learned quite a bit about the technology of mass-production book bindery, and even the art of hand-making books, too, although the day-to-day work didn't involve the latter. I loved going to the University Libraries, subsequent to that job, and speculating idly just how many of the vast number of volumes in those stacks my hands had touched. I still have kinesthetic dreams about operating the hydraulic cover-cloth folding machine, a particular favorite of mine, where the hot-glue-coated covers were folded onto the cardboard: suppa-CHUNK, suppa-CHUNK, suppa-CHUNK, suppa-CHUNK! You pushed the pedal four times, one for each of the four edges of the cover, as you spun it around for each fold, then ran the plastic straightedge into the creases to make it clean and tight.
I am in a kind of contact with one of my former coworkers from that bindery time, and she sent me a notice recently that inspired this post. The University of Minnesota Library Bindery has closed. The digital technologies associated with books has transformed the bindery business, and made it untenable. There is an article about it at the University of Minnesota Daily (the U of M's newspaper). I was suprised to see, in the article, that the bindery manager is the same man who had been my boss all those years ago. I guess he made a career of it.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
I’ve not been working very hard these last few days – I’m in the second week of my “naesin vacation” – that break in my schedule when I have only elementary classes because the middle-schoolers are engaged in their intensive test-prep schedule. So I have a 50% class load. I think I benefit from this – it gives me a chance to “recharge” between the harder push during the regular schedule.
Nevertheless, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Not from overwhelming teaching load but essentially for affective reasons – I just have been feeling negative about my work lately. I’ve been working at Karma for 5 years. That’s the second-longest I’ve ever held a single job, and certainly Curt is now the person who’s been my boss for the longest continuous stretch of time in my life, by far.
Yet Wednesday night I sat in a staff meeting on the topic of student placement for the next term, feeling like no one really gave a damn what I had to say, or what my opinions were about the students or about what we should do. I feel like I am dismissed for being too demanding, in one moment, then dismissed for being too lax, in another moment. This is dissonant. I realize it boils down to different cultural perceptions, not just just about appropriate teaching methodology but about more fundamental questions on how child development is conceptualized and how teacher’s roles are defined.
Then yesterday I had an interaction with a coworker that reinforced this feeling of dissonance.
The very complicated background to this is a problematic student who goes by Ken. He is not academically inclined, and he is morbidly shy. Several months went by before I got any kind of sustained utterance out of him of any kind – even in Korean, not just English. In fact, he’s not that far below level in terms of his English ability, but his penmanship is atrocious, so I would describe his issue as being one of “intense communication avoidance” – by never speaking on the one hand, and by writing illegibly on the other.
Anyway, Ken nevertheless is not in any way handicapped. In testing, he tests at level, as long as there’s no production component (i.e. only short-answer writing and no speaking). Ken has one additional habit that is annoying: he frequently tries to “cheat.” I put that word in quotation marks because in fact, it has the feel of an elaborate ritual. He expects and intends to be caught. He makes these little cue cards with information he could use on a vocabulary test or speech test, and he almost flamboyantly mimes through a process of placing them somewhere “out of sight.”
The theatrics of it convinced me, early on, that instead of being hard-nosed about it, I should try for a different kind of approach. I decided to accept it as an invitation to a conversation, and, remarkably, it has in fact worked out exactly that way. He makes and places his cue cards, I inevitably find them and ask him what he’s doing, and at first he would say “nothing,” or some other monosyllable. But then he started adding things. “I need more time [to prepare].” “No, I need that.”
This might seem trivial, but I’m a language teacher first, and what I saw was that here he was, actually using English to communicate. So these little exchanges have emerged between us. I will answer, something like, “Oh, you’ve had lots of time.” “No, I need more.” “Why?” “To study. There’s too many words on this list.”
You see? He actually knows spoken English pretty well, and here was a communicative situation where he felt safe and compelled to demonstrate that by interacting with me. So with respect to what you might call the “moral dimension” of the cheating issue, I decided to just let it be. It was a kind of game, I rationalized. Perhaps that’s all it is, I don’t know. I would tease him, saying that if he put as much energy into studying as he put into creating his cheat cards, he wouldn’t need to cheat. He would smile with a kind of secret satisfaction. He understands what I’m saying, but just studying is not an interesting approach for him.
As long as this was a “game” confined to our class, which didn’t disrupt my interactions with the other students, I guess it’s no problem. But last night another teacher caught him cheating. And she asked me if I knew he did that.
I said, “of course, he tries, all the time. But… it’s complicated.” You can imagine the conversation that followed. I was faced with a wall of blank incomprehension as I tried explain all of the above.
“But it’s just… wrong. How could you let him do that?”
My point, and my defense, is that I don’t let him actually cheat. I always catch him. That’s how it works. But the other teacher had no sympathy for the idea that I was using it as a means to engage with and draw out an otherwise voiceless student.
In retrospect, of course, I have to second guess myself. Was it wrong of me to do this? The theatrics of his “cheating” always made me assume he meant to be caught, which meant that I assumed the same thing happened with the other teachers. But then, there arises the situation of a teacher who is too dense to notice. What then? Who’s been irresponsible? Me, for allowing the game, or her, for not noticing Ken’s “performance?”
I don’t have an answer, but what really has me depressed is the “wall of incomprehension” vis-a-vis my intended communicative approach, as it underscores the feeling from Wednesday’s meeting that my opinions and notions of pedagogy are fundamentally unwelcome.
When I tried to talk about the problem with Helen, the elementary section director, she was just as incomprehending. A little more sympathetic, if only because she’s become used to these weird cultural mis-matches, with me, but in the end she was mildly disapproving and, more significantly, completely dismissive of the whole thing – which redounds on my feelings about the meeting, that my opinions and ideas are ultimately sufficiently alien to my coworkers that their main way of dealing with them is to ignore them.
It’s not that I’m left second-guessing my fundamental beliefs about pedagogy or what makes for best practice in interacting with kids – I still hew to the essential idea summed up in the aphorism that “kids learn from what we do, not from what we say.” I therefore insist that haranging and getting angry at kids for bad their behavior is not just useless, but is teaching them exactly the wrong thing – even while admitting sometimes I am guilty of it, too. This is to say, it teaches them that haranging and getting angry are appropriate social responses. Yet anyone familiar with Korean society will realize that this is, obviously, in fact a belief broadly held in Korean culture. And that is because that’s universally how kids are disciplined.
The real issue, which is causing me distress in the present moment, is just a kind of despair with respect to the idea that I could ever, truly, adapt. The thing that I should emphasize is that I could easily have the same problem in some school in some other conservative cultural setting, including in the US. I recognize that this isn’t really about Korea. It’s about my own stubborn instance on difference, and my own maladaptive alienation.
There’s no conclusion. It’s just the anecdote. Life goes on.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
I don't really have routines. What I seem to have, instead, are checklists. I rarely do the various things that need to be done in any fixed order, rather, I just work through the list, almost with a deliberate view to randomness. "I can't do dishes before my shower, because I did that yesterday. So today, I'll do them after my shower."
I have been doing this since I was quite young. I remember when I was maybe 6 years old, just becoming competent at tying my own shoes, and it was very important to me that I never tie them in the same order. Each time, I would think, "Well, which shoe did I tie first yesterday? If it was right, I should do the left first, today. But… if I have been alternating for a while, then I should do the same one, because alternating is a pattern, too."
It seems to be like a kind of inversion of the standard manifestation of OCD. I was aware of it more than usual, today, for some reason.
Taking this into account might explain the character of this blog, too.
What I'm listening to right now.
Arctic Monkeys, "Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair."
Lyrics.
Break a mirror
Roll the dice
Run with scissors
Through a chip pan fire fight
Go into business with a grizzly bear
But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair
Find a well known hardman
And start a fight
Wear your shell suit
On bonfire night
Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square
But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair
Ooh… Yeah yeah yeah [x2]
Bite the lightning
And tell me how it tastes
Kung Fu fighting
On your roller skates
Do the macarena in the devils lair
But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair
Ooh… Yeah yeah yeah [x3]
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Sometimes people ask me why I quit being an active user on the facebook. Sometimes I even think to myself about returning, because there definitely are benefits to the platform, and I know I miss some important interactions with friends, family and former students.
Then I run across an article such as this one.
And I renew my commitment to be a "passive-only" user of the facebook.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
My student asked me, "Do you know what four minus minus zero is?"
Sensing a joke, I said, "No. What?"
"It's poo," she explained.
"OK," I said. "Can you tell me why?"
The student came to the whiteboard and drew a diagram. I have attempted to reproduce it at right.
Then I laughed, because now the joke made sense.
You see, the final symbol is basically the Korean hangeul syllable glyph 똥 [ttong (or ddong)], which means "poo" or "shit."
[daily log: walking, 6.5]
In case you didn't know, Cthulu is running for president. This is great news. This is the candidacy that will trump the others.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Today is a holiday that, for whatever reason, I didn't realize was coming. Korean Memorial Day.
Sometimes those are the best kind of holiday, since there is no anticipation to get messed up – not that I ever anticipate much about holidays, anymore. But I am having a very relaxing day. I drew something, and read some things.
There is a blog called SpeculativeGrammarian, which is all about linguistic satire. I found this strange, short poem there. It made me laugh. I doubt it will make you laugh.
The poem's authorship is attributed to Bill Spruiell, who, like all the SpecGram writers, is fictional.
I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
That doesn’t represent a parse
Of this sentence.
[daily log: walking, around]
I like Genki Sudo and his weird choreographies, and I especially enjoy the cryptic semiotics of his videos – there’s a lot there if you look for it, although superficially they seem quite silly.
Here is a recent video by his group, World Order – more interesting when you realize it’s all choreography, done without camera or editing tricks.
What I’m listening to right now.
World Order, “Have A Nice Day.”
Lyrics (credit Moriyama translations blog).
日曜日の朝 閃いた
nichiyoubi no asa hiraimeita
This Saturday morning, an idea came to mind
今日は街へ繰りだそう
kyou wa machi e kuridasou
Today, I’ll head over to town
お気に入りのジャケット羽織り
okiniiri no JAKKETTO haori
With my favorite haori jacket*
みんなが待っている交差点へ
minna ga matteiru kousaten e
I head to the road crossing where everyone waits
everywhere グレートな僕は
everywhere GUREETO na boku wa
Everywhere, The great me
everywhere スマートにcheck it out
everywhere SUMAATO ni check it out
Everywhere, checks it all out in a smart manner*
everywhere シンプルに踊り
everywhere SHINPURU ni odori
Everywhere, and simply dances
ガラス越しの 未来を見て
GARASUgoshi no mirai wo mite
And within the glass reflection, I see the future
everywhere キュートなキミは
everywhere KYUUTO na kimi wa
Everywhere, the cute you
everywhere スマートにcheck it out
everywhere SUMAATO ni check it out
Everywhere, check it out in a smart manner
everywhere シンプルに彩り
everywhere SHINPURU ni irodori
Everywhere, and simply dance
ガラス越しに 君微笑む (微笑む)
GARASUgoshi ni kimi hohoemu (hohoemu)
And within the glass reflection, you are smiling to me (smiling to me)
微笑む (微笑む) 微笑む (微笑む)
hohoemu (hohoemu) hohoemu (hohoemu)
smiling to me (smiling to me) smiling to me (smiling to me)
今日はHAVE A NICE DAY
kyou wa HAVE A NICE DAY
Today, have a nice day
今日はHAVE A NICE DAY
kyou wa HAVE A NICE DAY
Today, have a nice day
日曜日の 青い空
nichiyoubi no aoi sora
With the sky blue this Saturday
今日はあの子に会いに行こう
kyou wa ano ko ni ai ni ikou
Now let’s go meet “that girl”* today
エスカレータ駆け上がり
ESUKAREETA kakeagari
Rushing up the escalator
君の待つステージへ急ぐ
kimi no matsu SUTEEJI e isogu
I hurry to the stage where you wait for me
everywhere グレートな僕は
everywhere GUREETO na boku wa
Everywhere, The great me
everywhere スマートにcheck it out
everywhere SUMAATO ni check it out
Everywhere, checks it all out in a smart manner*
everywhere シンプルに踊り
everywhere SHINPURU ni odori
Everywhere, and simply dances
ガラス越しの 未来を見て
GARASUgoshi no mirai wo mite
And within the glass reflection, I see the future
everywhere キュートなキミは
everywhere KYUUTO na kimi wa
Everywhere, the cute you
everywhere スマートにcheck it out
everywhere SUMAATO ni check it out
Everywhere, check it out in a smart manner
everywhere シンプルに彩り
everywhere SHINPURU ni irodori
Everywhere, and simply dance
ガラス越しに 君微笑む (微笑む)
GARASUgoshi ni kimi hohoemu (hohoemu)
And within the glass reflection, you are smiling to me (smiling to me)
微笑む (微笑む) 微笑む (微笑む)
hohoemu (hohoemu) hohoemu (hohoemu)
smiling to me (smiling to me) smiling to me (smiling to me)
今日はHAVE A NICE DAY
kyou wa HAVE A NICE DAY
Today, have a nice day
通りすぎてくこの恋模様
toori sugiteku kono koimoyou
Within this air of loveliness* that passes by
君からの返事 ただ待っている
kimi kara no henji tada matteiru
I just keep waiting for your reply
言葉にすると消えてしまいそう
kotoba ni suru to kieteshimaisou
It feels like it’ll disappear once spoken
僕の想い ほろ苦いチョコレート
boku no omoi horonigai CHOKOREETO
These feelings of mine are like bittersweet chocolate
通りすぎてく そう雲のよう
toori sugiteku sou kumo no you
Just like the clouds that pass on by
君からの答え もう知っている
kimi kara no kotae mou shitteiru
I already know what you’ll answer with
また会おうねって 去ってく空が
mata aounette satteku sora ga
The sky darkens as you tell me “Let’s see each other another time”
僕の恋は どうにも届かない
boku no koi wa dounimo todokanai
My love will hopelessly not reach you
[daily log: walking, 7km]
(Poem #26 on new numbering scheme)
I didn't think the sky was so luminous But as the night was just starting I saw An unblackish sort of blue hanging there Like a closing parenthesis in some Overwrought fragment of prose, still starless. I thought the buildings were holding it up But if that was true it would be like glass, Fragile and smooth, but unmoving and cold Yet this dark sky's mood was warm and it spun Above the buildings and trees, just infinite.
– ten lines of some kind of pentameter – not really sure what this is.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I guess someone golfing in Florida encountered a different type of water hazard.
Mainly, this is interesting to me because of my "alligator" brand with my students. I showed some of them this video.
My students often ask me, "why do you like alligators?" to which I typically, and cryptically, respond: "because you like alligators." In fact, I don't really care about alligators. They're just a kind schtick I use, with my students.
What I'm listening to right now.
The National, "The Daughters of the SoHo Riots." From their Alligator album, of course.
Lyrics.
I have your good clothes in the car
So cut your hair so no one knows
I have your dreams and your teethmarks
And all my fingernails are painted
I'm here to take you now
You were right about the end
It didn't make a difference
Everything I can remember
I remember wrong
How can anybody know
How they got to be this way?
You must have known
I'd do this someday
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
I don't have any questions
I don't think it's gonna rain
You were right about the end
It didn't make a difference
I'm here to take you now
Out among the missing sons and daughters of the Soho riots
Out among the missing sons and daughters of the Soho riots
I'm here to take you now
How can anybody know
How they got to be this way?
You must have known
I'd do this someday
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
My student Sophia is probably the only student I have who actually thinks in English at least some of the time. And maybe it is only in the context of being able to effortlessly switch what language one is thinking in does it really become common to see dynamic lexeme-level code switching, in the linguistic sense.
I was handing her a vocabulary quiz booklet, and she handed it back to me, saying, offhandedly,
that's 동현의 것's
(i.e. that's Dong-hyeon-ui geot's)
"Dong-hyeon" is her classmate's name. Really it's not exactly code-switching, since it's a kind of "doubled-up possessive" – a Korean possessive (-의 것 [-ui-geot]) embedded in an English possessive – so more like "code layering." She was just covering her bases.
I just found it fascinating from a language-acquisition standpoint.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
I'm still kind of recovering from last week. Still have a lot of work. My reduced test-prep work schedule is coming soon, and will give me a chance to rest.
What I'm listening to right now.
Beach House, "Space Song."
Lyrics.
It was late at night
You held on tight
From an empty seat
A flash of light
It will take a while
To make you smile
Somewhere in these eyes
I'm on your side
You wide eyed girls
You get it right
Fall back into place
Fall back into place
Tender is the night
For a broken heart
Who will dry your eyes
When it falls apart?
What makes this fragile world go 'round?
Were you ever lost
Was she ever found?
Somewhere in these eyes
Fall back into place
Fall back into place
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Last week, I gave a speaking test to my Newton1-M cohort. The topic I’d given them was the humorous “woodchucks should chuck wood” proposition that I’d had success with before.
Here they are, giving their own reasons why woodchucks should chuck wood.
Here are the texts of their speeches (since they are hard to hear). I made major corrections to the grammar of their draft speeches, but the ideas, reasons and examples are entirely their own. I had made the requirement that they each include the original tongue-twister in their speeches.
Jerry
Hi, my name is Jerry. There is a question, “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” The answer is, “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” I think this is wrong. I have a reason, too, which is that the woodchuck’s teeth are not strong enough to eat wood. A beaver has strong teeth, that’s why it eats wood. A woodchuck has weak teeth. If a woodchuck ate wood, it would get hurt. Do you want a cute woodchuck to get hurt?
Angela
Hi everyone, my name is Angela. The question is, “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” And we all know that the answer is, “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” I think woodchucks should wood if they could. I have one main reason for this. Woodchucks like wood. Woodchucks like brown colored things. I saw a woodchuck. The woodchuck said, “I like wood!” So it’s a good situation. I think woodchucks should chuck wood if they could. Thank you for listening.
Mark
Hi, my name is Mark. We’re debating about woodchucks. “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” Personally, I think a woodchuck shouldn’t shuck wood even if they could, because wood is not delicious. According to a survey of many cute, furry woodchucks, 90% of the respondents said that wood is not delicious. Therefore for this reason I think a woodchuck should not eat wood, even if they could. Thank you for listening to my speech.
Ysabell
Hi, my name is Ysabell. My team is the PRO team on this debate, which has the question, “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” The answer is, “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” I think woodchucks should chuck wood if they could, because their name is WOODCHUCK! I have a friend whose nickname is “Carrot.” She likes carrots. I disagree with my opponents, who say woodchucks shouldn’t chuck wood. It’s not true. How can the name ‘woodchuck’ not be true?
Jenny
Hi, my name is Jenny. Some student asked the teacher, “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” The teacher said, “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” I think this is wrong. I think woodchucks shouldn’t chuck wood. Today, when I went to school, I met a woodchuck. I asked, “Do you like wood?” The woodchuck said, “No, I don’t eat wood.” Look, everyone, the woodchuck said it, itself, and I heard it directly. Woodchucks shouldn’t chuck wood. They don’t want to.
Julie
Hello everyone, my name is Julie. We are debating about woodchucks. The question is “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” The answer is “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.” I am on the PRO team on this proposition, because if we try it, maybe wood actually tastes good. Some wood can be delicious. For example, sugar cane is a kind of wood. It is very sweet and delicious. So I think I agree with this idea. Thank you for listening.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
I saw this four-character idiom online somewhere – I didn’t record from where.
空谷足音
공곡족음
gong.gok.jok.eum
empty-valley-excessive-sound
This idiom seems to be similar to: Vox clamantis in deserto! “A voice in the wilderness.”
1 Iɴɪᴛɪᴜᴍ Eᴠᴀɴɢᴇʟɪɪ Jᴇsᴜ Cʜʀɪsᴛɪ, Fɪʟɪɪ Dᴇɪ. 2 Sɪᴄᴜᴛ sᴄʀɪᴘᴛᴜᴍ ᴇsᴛ ɪɴ Isᴀɪᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛᴀ: Eᴄᴄᴇ ᴇɢᴏ ᴍɪᴛᴛᴏ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴜᴍ ᴍᴇᴜᴍ ᴀɴᴛᴇ ғᴀᴄɪᴇᴍ ᴛᴜᴀᴍ, ǫᴜɪ ᴘʀæᴘᴀʀᴀʙɪᴛ ᴠɪᴀᴍ ᴛᴜᴀᴍ ᴀɴᴛᴇ ᴛᴇ. 3 Vᴏx ᴄʟᴀᴍᴀɴᴛɪs ɪɴ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴛᴏ: Pᴀʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴠɪᴀᴍ Dᴏᴍɪɴɪ, ʀᴇᴄᴛᴀs ғᴀᴄɪᴛᴇ sᴇᴍɪᴛᴀs ᴇᴊᴜs. (Vulgate)
1 The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God; 2 As it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee. 3 The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. (KJV)
But the Christian/Western allusion is to prophecy, while the Chinese seems to mean one of two things, neither of which is quite the same. First, it might mean a pointless exercise of proclaiming when no one is paying attention. Alternately, it might mean the way that deserted place becomes more welcoming when a sound is heard. Regardless, I don’t think it’s directly relatable to the notion of prophecy… I guess it comes down to one’s opinion regarding the efficacy of prophecy.
There is also the text by John Gower, a Latin-language poem written in the 14th century, bearing the title “Vox Clamantis.”
[daily log: walking, 1km]
I am tired from work last week, so I will simply offer the answer to the question, "what is the purpose of life?"
"The purpose of life is to hydrogenate carbon dioxide." – Mike Russell, Scientist at JPL.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
Today is the big day – the annual Karma Academy Talent Show. I've been really busy in the preparations leading up to this day, with 2-3 hours extra work most days for the last 2 weeks. Now we get to see just how badly it goes.
[daily log: walking, 7km, insane-child-wrangling, 6 hours]
I don't have anything to say today. So I will present this, found somewhere online:
"Don't be sad, because sad spelled backwards is das, und das ist nicht gut."
[daily log: walking, 7.5km]
(Poem #25 on new numbering scheme)
I was walking. There was a whirr of wings. A flash of black. A raven spun and landed in front of me. Some years ago I was in Japan, and I saw many ravens. So ravens make me think about Japan in the Summer. But also, I think about death. Aren't there some traditional cultures that associate ravens with death? I wonder about ravens. They are scavenger birds. Carrion-seekers. They must know about death, after all. That's why they tilt their heads like that. People seem to know about death, too. We are carrion-apes who know about death. It's a matter of ecological competence. Is that where clever consciousness comes from?
– some kind of free verse
The picture shows some ravens (crows?) I saw at Hallasan, on Jeju Island, in February, 2011.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
It's a tradition. Go to hospital. Snap a pic. Post to blog. Wait. Wait.
More later.
Update, a few hours later:
With respect to my diplostome, the doctor actually said, "very good." That is good news. It seems to finally be closing up as it is supposed to.
There was some less good news, too, though. After doing some x-rays to look around the rest of my jaw, the doctor identified another spot where there was likely some necrosis-exacerbated dental problems, around the root of an upper molar. The molar was a spot where I had a root canal long ago, and because of this, the doctor shook his head, depressingly. He explained there was little we could do. "Wait for it to start hurting, then take it out. Meanwhile, keep using it." It is another case where any effort to cure it would be worse than the problem, so the medical procedure boils down to "wait."
[daily log: walking, 11km]
As I've mentioned before, just sitting and watching Korean television on some random channel can often lead to seeing unexpected or unusual things, not necessarily of high artistic merit.
Yesterday I got home from work and it was very hot. Summer has arrived. I turned on my A/C for the first sustained run this season, took a short nap, and then vegged in front of the TV.
I watched a very bizarre Russian comedy called Dzhungli ("The Jungle", 정글), subtitled in Korean. Obviously my level of comprehension was rather low, but between my rusty two years of college Russian and my low-vocabulary but high-frequency Korean, I picked up more than I might have expected. Mostly pronouns.
Fortunately the plot was so facile that it sustained my interest. It was full of the kinds of social and cultural stereotypes that became unpopular in the west about half a century ago. Some married couple with relationship problems gets stranded on a remote tropical island. At first they're sabotaging each other's efforts to survive on the island, like a never-ending lover's quarrel devolved into a lord-of-the-flies scenario, but then these highly caricatured "natives" show up, who, despite wearing blackface, rather humorously all speak German (bear in mind that the Slavic term for "German" [nemets] means, roughly, "can't talk" – so this may be a kind of complex joke). The natives attempt to kill the couple, but they fight them and eventually escape the island and return to Russia and marital bliss.
Actually it reminded a lot of some lost episode of Gilligan's Island, with better special effects and marginally less coherent dialogue, and where Ginger and Gilligan finally become an item and have their own private adventure in the jungle somewhere.
I don't recommend this movie. Unless you're really bored watching Korean broadcast TV on a Saturday afternoon.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
I have a 5th grade student named Jenny. She is pretty smart, but has a bit of a melancholic personality. In fact, I've known Jenny for a long time – she was, long ago, in one of my Phonics cohorts, when she first studied English. As a result, I feel like I know her pretty well. Nevertheless she surprised me a little bit, yesterday, by expressing what seemed to me to be some pretty deep ideas, in English.
We were having more-or-less free conversation during class, talking about how to get motivated to prepare for our up coming talent show event. Several of the kids complained that they felt too shy and didn't want to do it, including Jenny. Then she said, "I wish I had a machine."
"What kind of machine?" I asked.
"A machine if you click it, it changes feeling." She made a gesture of operating a computer mouse.
"What do you mean?"
"If I am shy, I can click it, and I am happy. If am sad, I can click it, and I am OK."
"That would be a pretty good machine," I agreed. "I think everyone would like a machine like that."
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
One of my new classes is a Tuesday special "activity" class for our lowest-level, youngest class, a combined "Basic" cohort. These kids are essentially "pre-Phonics" and I'm mostly focused on getting them comfortable with a classroom conducted in English and doing fun games and vocabulary review for the online materials we're using.
There is one girl, a 2nd-grader, who has a quite distinctive personality. Her English name is Hailey. She has a preternaturally deep voice for a child of any gender, and sometimes hearing her talk can be disorienting, as she can sound almost like an adult if you pay attention to the tone of voice and not the content of her words. This dissonance is augmented by her tiny stature.
Either because of this, or for whatever other reason, she is also fairly behaviorially mature for her age, and a little bit bossy with her peers, but strangely staid and polite with adults. She actually likes to sit and pay attention quietly in class. When we were playing a game, yesterday, she was copying down words from our last exercise, practicing her English Alphabet letters. She suddenly raised her hand and asked to go to the bathroom (in Korean). After making her repeat the request in English, I let her go.
After she came back, she resumed her writing, and I let her – I run a fairly loose classroom anyway, and far be it from me to force a child to participate in a game when she'd rather practice writing.
Then suddenly my coworker Helen popped her head in the classroom and said the class was too noisy. I assumed this was because there were some prospective customer-parents in the lobby, and having a loud, raucous classroom is not a great sales pitch – at least not in Korea. So we ended the game and went on to a more structured and quieter activity.
Later, Helen told me that in fact, Hailey had stopped by the front desk on her way to the bathroom, and had complained to her about how noisy the class was, and had requested Helen to come tell the class to quiet down.
I found this truly funny. I have never had a 2nd grader complain about a too-loud class, before. I didn't even think it was possible.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
It was a really long day yesterday, with six classes back-to-back and essays to score. I'm feeling gloomy because I made a mistake with last-month's grades. Just a stupid mistake in the spreadsheeet, but the sort of mistake that unnecessarily and negatively impacts the impression parents have.
What I'm listening to right now.
Garbage, "You Look So Fine." This is from Garbage's Version 2.0 album, possibly one of my most favorite and most listened-to albums of all time – one of those albums where I like every song on it.
Lyrics.
You look so fine
I want to break your heart
And give you mine
You're taking me over
It's so insane
You've got me tethered and chained
I hear your name
And I'm falling over
I'm not like all the other girls
I can't take it like the other girls
I won't share it like the other girls
That you used to know
You look so fine
Knocked down
Cried out
Been down just to find out
I'm through
Bleeding for you
I'm open wide
I want to take you home
We'll waste some time
You're the only one for me
You look so fine
I'm like the desert tonight
Leave her behind
If you want to show me
I'm not like all the other girls
I won't take it like the other girls
I won't fake it like the other girls
That you used to know
You're taking me over
Over and over
I'm falling over
Over and over
You're taking me over
Drown in me one more time
Hide inside me tonight
Do what you want to do
Just pretend happy end
Let me know let it show
Ending with letting go [3x]
Let's pretend, happy end [4x]
[daily log, walking, 6.5km]
I wrote these little poems. They are attempts at the Welsh traditional short poem form called englynion – specifically, the englyn unodl crwca, or crooked one-line englyn.
(Poem #24 on new numbering scheme)
Sunday looking now out the window, solid gray clouds, drawn just so - i lie down to read. let go of winter, wishing for rain, but no. Monday the puddle of water shines, the morning sun's brightness finds streaks of mud and small cracks; signs like a map's matching patchwork of lines.
These forms are quite restrictive, in the technical sense. I seem to prefer trying to write inside such constraints, sometimes.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I have a set of tarot cards, which I have owned for over 30 years now, and they remain in good condition. I had misplaced them during my move in 2013, but they later turned up.
Sometimes I do "tarot readings" in my middle-school classes if I have a few minutes to kill at the end of a lesson and they express some interest. Yesterday in my 8th grade HS2A cohort, they weren't that interested, but I gave a tarot reading yesterday because those kids are just zombies as far as I can figure out.
I have one of the students ask me a question, then I will "read their future" with the cards and booklet of interpretative meanings that I compiled. Some kids find it fascinating, and I can justify it since of course I'm conducting the "readings" in English.
One boy asked "What will I do tomorrow?" Perhaps he cynically hoped to get me to make a prediction he could invalidate. I don't mind this. I read the cards and told him, plausibly enough against their standard meanings, that he would have to make a choice tomorrow, and that he would make the right choice. I was pleased with this, since it seemed the kind of reading that would be impossible to invalidate.
The next question, from a girl, was about university. The cards were kind of dark and negative, on that one, but I told her - a shy and timorous girl – that the cards showed that although what university she attended seemed important, she shouldn't worry so much about it – her life could be good regardless of where she went. There was at least some support for that reading.
Finally, another girl asked, cynically, "When can I leave this classroom?" I laughed at the passive-aggressive cleverness of this question.
I pulled a card, and turned it over. It was the 8 of wands, inverted. The meaning of this card is "delay" – really, look it up yourself. "Your leaving this classroom will be delayed!" I announced, triumphantly. I showed them the booklet page under the appropriate card, to prove I wasn't tricking them.
This was such an impressive result I could see the kids were either a bit surprised, or else still thought I was tricking them somehow.
The girl who'd asked the question rolled her eyes and looked at the clock on the wall again.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Last night we had a 회식 (work dinner), that Korean institution where coworkers periodically and essentially obligatorially participate in an after-work dinner and drinking experience. I am not much of a drinker these days, and furthermore my medication contraindicates alcohol, but something made me have a couple cups of beer last night, which, given my normal abstention, left me feeling completely discombobulated.
Anyway, it was at a seafood reastaurant, one of those places where there are servings of raw, still-wiggling, chopped octopus tentacles among other less-identifiable delicacies. I have never been a fan of still-wiggling octopus tentacles, although I'm fine to eat them cooked, when they have a kind of "ok to swallow whole" texture such that they are more bearable than many other things. I had some issues with bits of clam and mussel shell in the food getting caught in my undexterous mouth.
Perhaps the pleasing aspect was that, although I didn't talk much – I never do – I was finding my level of comprehension through the evening fairly high. I followed a number of conversations more-or-less successfully, although if I let my attention wander I would become lost. As I've always commented to my coworkers, for me, hweh-sik is harder than work, not easier, and not really relaxing. It's like an intensive Korean listening comprehension class, always held late at night after a long day at work.
A picture, looking across the table – a low table, everyone seated on the floor – you can see new teacher John, Curt, and newish middle-school subdirector, Sunny (who, like many Karmaites, is an L-Bridge refugee, and thus someone whom I've known on and off for quite a long time).
What I'm listening to right now.
Télépopmusik – "Breathe."
Lyrics.
I brought you something close to me,
Left for something you see though your here.
You haunt my dreams
There's nothing to do but believe,
Just believe.
Just breathe.
Another day, just believe,
Another day, just breathe
Another day, just believe,
Another day. just breathe.
Im used to it by now.
Another day, just believe.
Just breathe. just believe.
Just breathe.
Lying in my bed,
Another day, staring at the ceiling.
Just breathe. another day.
Another day, just believe.
Another day.
Im used to it by now.
Im used to it by now.
Just breathe. just believe.
Just breathe. just believe.
Just believe. just breathe.
Just believe.
Another day, just believe.
Another day.
Another day, just believe,
Another day, just breathe,
Another day (I do believe).
Another day(so hard to breathe)
Another day(not so hard to believe)
Another day. another day.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
There is a website dedicated to "satirical linguistics," called SpeculativeGrammarian. There is an article called "Nursery Rhymes from Linguistics Land," which is a collection of humorous, linguistics-themed re-writes of traditional nursery rhymes. Given my fondness for tongue twisters, combined with my interest in parsers (that was the subject matter, broadly speaking, of my undergraduate honor's thesis) and my fascination with palindromes, this particular rhyme was particularly impressive:
Peter’s Parser
Peter’s parser parsed a paragraph
Of paraphrastic palindromes;
A paragraph of paraphrastic palindromes
Peter’s parser parsed.
If Peter’s parser parsed a paragraph
Of paraphrastic palindromes,
Where’s the paragraph of paraphrastic palindromes
Peter’s parser parsed?
There are many others I liked, too.
[daily log, walking, 6.5km]
My coworker taught me this expression, in the context of my trying to explain what I had done over the weekend. “I did basically nothing,” I had said. “I was a zombie.”
She found this expression somewhat funny, and offered the Korean equivalent: “시체노리 했다” [si.che.no.ri haet.da]. The meaning, roughly, is “[I] played at being a corpse,” but apparently it can be used just as I used the “I was a zombie” expression, or other colloquialisms for doing nothing, like “I was basically dead.”
Not much else to say.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
