dollop of solipsism

on tuesday, all the students had to watch a disaster drill video. this was part of some protocol the korean government enforced on all the public schools, in view of the disastrous earthquakes that china had recently experienced. at around 2:30, the siren went off and the entire student body got under their desks.

there are no earthquakes in korea. at least, not noticeable ones. there are no tornadoes in korea. at least, not ones i’ve read about. and i’ve never heard of a hurricane coming this way. but if a hurricane was coming this way, we would’ve known about it days ahead, no? and let’s say the school was on fire. getting under a desk wouldn’t be so useful, i imagine. perhaps, perhaps, the drill will come into play when—er, if—north korea invades. yes yes.

my co-teacher ms. seo was explaining the process to me.

ms. 서: all the students will get under their desk and shield their head.
me: okay.
ms. 서: the teachers, too.
me: oh, okay. do i have to do this?
ms. 서: no, you don’t have to. you are american.

oh, riiight. it’s true, since i am american, the disaster drill would prove completely useless. because when i received my US citizenship, i was simultaneously handed an air bubble that would prevent me from all disasters—earthquakes, the bubonic plague, shipwrecks, SARS, monsoons, japanese encephalitis, and most importantly, scurvy.

and though it didn’t occur to me that baskin robbins and dunkin donuts are indeed the same company (if they were the same company, why do they not have the same name? also, in america, you wouldn’t immediately find a dunkin donuts right next to a baskin robbins, would you?), i so am an american. after all, i have the air bubble. well, not right now. right now, it’s at the dry cleaners.

me: i don’t understand why they don’t understand…
tristan: english is their second language. second!

that conversation took place sometime last week. i had assigned homework to my gifted classes at the foreign language high school…they’re thirty-two of the best english-speaking third grade middle school students in all of daegu. that is a big deal. they took several tests and had an interview in order to land a place in a gifted class taught by moi…and the homework assignment was that they had to write 3 thesis statements about the giver (by lois lowry). a thesis statement including the title of the book (the giver!), the author of the book (lois lowry), a theme from the book, and 3 pieces of evidence that supports said theme. not one (not. one) student understood the assignment. a couple were close, but 2 out of 32 is crap. crap.

so i was venting to tristan. it was mostly my fault, of course. i was expecting AP work from 14 year old korean students. i kept kicking myself for having not explained enough, not been more clear, not taken more time to break things down. to me, it’s so simple, but that’s because i had awesome (minus sophomore year) AP english teachers in high school. and though english is my second language, i’m completely english fluent (you may choose to disagree with me in the comments area).

so i was pretty bummed last week. it’s not because i care about the students per se. i just want them to write correctly.

on saturday, we had korean class. for some reason, the intermediate II class (there are 4 levels at the ymca) joined the advanced class. most of my classmates welcomed the intermediate level students. that’s because most of my classmates are cattle. if the teacher brought us to a cliff and told them to jump, they’d do it. moooooooooooooo. i didn’t say what i was feeling, which was ‘why you bitches in my class?’ because tristan is in the intermediate II class. god forbid i downgrade tristan to an intermediate student. i found the entire situation annoying. and nonsensical. why would you bring our class level down? and subsequently, why would you encourage the other class to speak at a level much higher than they’re capable of? it’s not like i’ll bottom now if i get to top tomorrow. there’s no happy medium here. no compromis.

the teacher for our advanced class scrambled a bit, essentially decided to reteach last week’s lesson, and digressed more than she normally does. why? all for two intermediate level students. i suppose it’s my fault. i let it happen. i should’ve raised my hand and protested, “hey, why don’t we NOT dumb our class down so that we actually learn something new?” right, like i could’ve done that. it was a trap if there ever was one.

i get that i’m an incredibly selfish student. if i don’t understand something, i’ll raise my hand and say, “yo yo yo, i don’t understand. teach it again.” and i get frustratingly annoyed when others ask dumb-ass questions. i mean, what do you do with people who confuse ‘to be salty’ with ‘to be small’ (짜다 and 작다)?

one of trickiest things about the korean language is the pronunciation (발음). it’s kind of like finding the right key on a violin fingerboard. if you’re a hair too high, you’re sharp. if you’re a hair too low, you’re flat. it’s very easy to confuse ‘to buy’ (사다 “sa-da”) with ‘to be inexpensive’ (싸다 “ssa-da”). yes, i get that these people are white, but then why would you go around making fun of koreans who say “shit down” instead of “sit down”? and though you complain about all the korean kiddies coming up to you and screaming “hello!” to your face, how would you feel if everyone in your elementary, middle, and high school (your peers) walked past you mumbling “ching chang chong chang ching”? and no, it is not. the. same.

today seems to be an angry day. after class, diana, tristan and i went to italy italy for some pasta. in class, the girls and i are not friends. outside of class, we’re buddies. then diana and i met elisha for some coffee at starbucks. elisha contributes to deciding who gets hired, who gets renewed, who gets assigned to what school in my city’s education system (she’s got some power). diana wishes to work in a public school this september, so i arranged a little meeting between them. we talked about teaching, and teaching styles, and complained about what native english speakers usually complain about…just normal stuff. however, we did touch on teaching really really smart kids how to write. i felt at peace, somewhat. here were the three of us, who actually really care about teaching effectively.

you hear horror stories about native english speakers who do nothing at the school they’re assigned to. they show movies, or just read from the book out loud (repeat after me!). they don’t plan lessons, they call in sick whenever they’re hung over, and they complain the entire year. i actually overheard one of the douche-iest ‘teachers’ claim that a) he does nothing, b) that this is the easiest job he’s ever had because a) he does nothing. then he proceeded to ask whoever would listen for lesson plans that he could use in class. i believe he’s from new zealand. explains so much.

since diana and i both wish to teach at a high school next term, it’d be hella awesome if we both got assigned to the foreign language high school (since there are two available positions there). no doubt we’d be neighbors and i could track all the men going into and coming out of her vagina—er, apartment. what’s the percentage of both of us landing the good high school? i dunno. 10%? here’s hoping…

saturday night and sunday were spent answering my gifted students’ emails. i suppose when they started studying for the test, panic struck them, resulting in the crazy questions in my mailbox. what is point of view? i wasn’t in class when you went over tone, protagonist, utopia, and dystopia—can you tell me what they are? for the essay, do i have to write on the giver (no, i want you to write on a christmas carol (!))? how much time do we have to take the test? where in the world is carmen sandiego!?!? (okay, so the last one didn’t happen)

yesterday, the kids took their evaluation on the giver. there were 30 multiple choice questions (easy), 10 vocabulary questions (extremely difficult), 20 short answer/fill-in-the-blank questions (extremely difficult), and 1 essay (not too bad). based on what i’ve skimmed through…i’m guessing that A class’s (the better class) average will be a paltry 79 and that B class’s average will be a dismal 74. i’m guessing. i did read the thesis statements for A class, and thank baby jesus that 90% of them know how to write a good thesis statement. since i have these kids until november, i know i can drill AP-style writing into their little heads. even if i (and they) have to bleed a little.

i feel much better now. about teaching, that is. thank you for letting me vent.

it is hot and humid today. at one point, i’m pretty sure i was melting. and this morning, my curling iron died. and i almost did, too.

this isn’t my first experience living in daegu. back in the day (like way back when sheena easton was tops), my mother frequently brought my older sister and me down to daegu (from seoul), where my mother’s side of the family resided. between my sister and i, i’m the unlovable one, so i pretty much got shafted when it came to receiving attention from the relatives. instead, i got severely coddled by my mother, resulting in the spoiled and selfish person i am today.

once in a while, i’d take advantage of my sister’s clout and tag along to all the fun places the relatives would take her. one of the places they kept bringing her was 미성당 (mi sung dang), a restaurant near the one and only department store in daegu (at the time). we would patron the place 2, 3 times a week because my older sister loved their 우동 (udong). i remember when the hotspot was just a narrow shack with two rows of tables pressed against the walls and one aisle in the middle to walk in (kind of like church). more often than not, the restaurant would be packed. strangers would squeeze next to strangers…they’d sit down to eat and leave as soon as they finished. i remember lots of slurping, sweating, chewing, and rushing.

eat quicker. eat quicker. there are people waiting.

last year, when my mother’s side of the family came to daegu for a visit, we all ended up at 미성당 (it was renovated years back…it’s a little bigger now, but the food is still the same), a landmark for my mother’s side of the family. and of course the manager recognized my grandmother (how could she not? my grandmother practically lived there in the 80s) and welcomed her kindly.

what makes 미성당’s 우동 so good is its simplicity. it’s the most korean-tasting 우동 i’ve ever tasted—savory and subtly sweet with a touch of spiciness, but lacking the bitter kick japanese 우동 has. attribute the wondrous taste to the clear ginger-colored broth, the best part of the dish. moreover, you can tell that the noodles are freshly made; they’re soft, smooth, and delicate. topping off the perfection are the pepper powder, chopped scallions, and flakes of dried seawood.

i was stick skinny back then (oh, those were the days), and was (and still is) a picky eater. but the 우동 at 미성당 was (and is still) too good to deny. not surprisingly, the 우동 (cheaply priced at ₩2,500 ≈ $2.50) is the establishment’s specialty.

on the outside, the shop looks rundown, a forgotten lore in the midst of a developing downtown. you’ll find that the decor is sparse, the furniture uniformly bland, and the atmosphere lingering. it’s almost like traveling back in time. the waitstaff consists of ajummas (women in or past their 40s) who speak in the daegu dialect of korean.

to kick it old school for lunch or dinner, you can find 미성당 across the street from dong-a department store (not to be confused with the newer, hipper dong-a shopping).

i was reading my tesol stuff this fine (warm) afternoon. it was talking about reading and listening as receptive skills. and how we read either for a purpose (like learning how to operate a video camera) or for entertainment (like reading novels). and then it continued on (my comments are in the parentheses)…

“how we read and listen: most people would say with our eyes and our ears (yuh-huh!)! this may be true but there is more to it than that (it’s true; we also use our brains). our minds must not only be able to recognize and understand the words but also be able to grasp their overall meaning from a pre-existing knowledge of the world. for example if an american was to walk past a newspaper stand and see the headline ‘bears destroyed by cowboys’ (oh god, that’s terrible! are cowboys hunting bears now??? why would they do that? aren’t their jobs to lead cattle up north for slaughter? when would they encounter bears? they don’t travel up to the mountains. do they? wait, do we still have cowboys? those poor bears!), he/she would automatically be able to recognize that this was likely to be a text about an american football game and nothing to do with animal crulety (oh… … …i. am. dumb). this would be based upon his/her pre-existent knowledge. a non-american, seeing the same headline and understanding every word might reach an entirely different conclusion (i see; i guess i’m not an american).”

this morning, i didn’t arrive to school as early as i usually do. there was some rushing, but at 8:30 i finally got to my desk and sat down. when i sit, the back of my feet naturally lift, and i place all pressure on the toes, like i’m wearing an invisible high-heel. i don’t know why i do this. today, i felt a slight draft, too cool for comfort, at my soles (and in my soul, but that’s because i’m cold-hearted. brrr.). i looked down and saw a gaping hole in my right sock, and saw the ashy, round mound of flesh—the heel—the foundation of my entire body. dammit all to hell. i looked at my left feet and could see my left heel as well. double dammit. i feel so naked.

in korean schools, teachers usually wear what westerners call ‘slides‘ (actually, i only found out this morning that 슬리퍼 (seul-li-peo as in ’slipper’—it’s konglish) is a ’slide,’ not a ‘flip-flop’ or the umbrella term ’sandal’ (upon closer research, a 슬리퍼 can also be a house ’slipper’ or basically any type of footwear that can ’slip’ on, hence the name)). so the students would get a glimpse of not only my soles, but also my humiliation. what kind of teacher has two gaping holes where fabric should be? is he poor? does the school not pay him? why are his soles so ashy (okay, so i ran 3 miles yesterday—enough with the ashy)?

lucky for me, today, i will not feel that deep well of shame because ta-da! i have a back-up pair of socks in the bottom left hand drawer of my desk. i keep them there just in case my socks rip in the middle of a work day (because it’s happened to me before). it’s funny, though…my socks have been ripping more and more recently. either i’m washing them too often or i’m constantly wearing them out (by standing and teaching, i presume). or perhaps it has to do with these slides…do they do a number on your socks? i know that flip-flops are known to not support your ankles (to all you flip-flop fanatics: 1) your feet smell, 2) your flip-flops are dirty, and 3) your ankles are turned in. stop wearing flip-flops. they are gross.)…

i think it’s stupid korean teachers AND students all have to wear slides in school. the teachers wear our regular shoes to work and change into slides in the little hallway of shoe cabinets right outside the front office. after school, we change back into our regular shoes and be normal again. oftentimes, i’ve felt ‘you know what? these slides don’t really match my outfit,’ but i have no choice in the matter. why the policy? i’ve been told it’s to prevent soiling the school with dirt from outside. which, to me, is pretty bullshit seeing as how the cafeteria is in another building on campus and we don’t change shoes mid-day for lunch. and seeing as how the kids run around the playground, schoolgrounds, constantly. that outside dirt excuse? buh-ull. shit. it’s probably just cultural…or worse, something left from the japanese.

i just think it’s funny to see teachers decked out in 3-piece suits wearing slides. obviously, there’s something incongruous about the whole thing. kinda like seeing me with holes in my socks. in case this happens to you teachers in korea, keep socks around just like you keep umbrellas around. you never know.