It happened

The heat broke like a fever. From dawn to dusk today there was no hint of muggy uncomfortable warmth. I write this as I sit in front of my open window in my apartment, letting the breeze wash over me like the healing balm that it is. I haven’t felt this in months, this perfectly pure, immaculate, untainted cool air. It smells like fall. As always, I didn’t realize how much I needed this until it came back.

I know the heat will return before it’s gone for good, probably with a vengeance. But this day is a promise of so many better days to come.

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Small victories

Sometimes our school schedule gets crazy. There are field trips and camping trips and violence prevention classes and fire drills and nationwide tests and unexpected miscellaneous stuff that can mess up the curriculum schedule. I’m not complaining, of course, because cancelled classes = more time to work on whatever I need, but it does do a number on my neatly-laid-out, semester-long master plan for all my classes.

So, sometimes I throw in random lessons for the classes that get too far ahead of the others.

Today was one such random day. All the other classes are still on Lesson 6, part 1, and I don’t want to start Lesson 6, part 2 with my Monday classes because later on it’ll mess up the pre-midterm-exam-review flow.

I crafted a personality lesson for my 2nd and 3rd years.

1. Vocab: Learn some personality traits (‘honest’, ‘brave’, ‘kind’, ‘shy’, ‘outgoing’, ‘helpful’…). I tried to mostly stick to positive ones so they don’t call each other bad things (I know my students all too well), but I did do ‘lazy’ and ‘mean’.

2. Apply the Vocab: Make a Venn diagram comparing your personality + your best friend’s personality and write a short paragraph about that friend using the words learned.

3. Personality Questionnaire*: Heavily modified version of one of those pop psych “personality quizzes” that we’ve all probably taken at one time or another. We’re not talking MBTI here, just a 10-question, multiple-choice, very simplified questionnaire about daily habits and preferences:

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The answers themselves were on the PowerPoint (to prevent certain kids from blazing ahead while others were trying to figure out what the question meant)

4. Quiz Results: Based on point values of each A, B, C, or D answer. I assigned an animal to each 10-point score range, so for example, 21-30 points is “The Cat,” 31-40 points is “The Dolphin,” 41-50 “The Fox,” 51-60 “The Lion,” etc., with a brief description like “you’re confident and brave” or “you’re quiet and smart.” Again, I chose only desirable/cute/nice animals so no one would feel bad. Also I didn’t totally make up the results since higher scores are supposed to indicate a bolder/more confident style while lower scores come from quieter/more reserved answers.

Anyway, the small victories here are:

>> Every class enjoyed taking the quiz and finding out their results. I mean, who doesn’t like answering questions about themselves? Even in a language that you (potentially) despise learning.

>> Even better, one of the notorious troublemakers completed his entire worksheet and quiz, patiently asking for help/translations with the questions so he could answer accurately.

>> Best of all, there’s this one really really quiet/shy girl who has spent over a year totally shut down in my class, barely able to lift her eyes from her desk much less write or speak. But today she was quietly listening to/reading the personality questions and circling her answers, the whole time. SUCCESS.


*The quiz questions I used were compiled by another teacher who posted on this thread on waygook.org, but modified by yours truly.

Just an average day at a Korean middle school

Walked into my classroom of 15-year-olds to find an anonymous student had spelled “sexy boy f***” on the whiteboard with our alphabet magnets. Promptly wiped the words away in one fell swoop with my arm and continued on my path to the front of the room.

Walked in a few hours later and my much-more-innocent 13-year-olds had spelled “Justin Bieber” and “TWICE Sana” (a K-pop group/name of a girl from the group). I deemed these acceptable to remain unscathed.

In another class we played a question game where teams had to ask me “have you ever” questions and try to make me say “yes, I have” and I received the standard “Have you ever eaten kimchi?” “Have you ever been to America?” Then I flipped it so they’d try to make me answer “no, I haven’t” and was asked, “Have you ever died?” “Have you ever killed someone?” “Have you ever eaten human meat?”

… … … Well, at least they were being creative. And using proper grammar.

Finally, I had one of my very favorite classes today, really sweet and cheerful kids. I went to check on a group and saw one of the girls had tears in her eyes. I asked the other two what happened and they could only try to act it out (rather poorly, might I add), so I hovered nearby to make sure she was okay. [I didn’t immediately go to ask her what was wrong because sometimes teenagers don’t really want to talk to their foreign teacher when they’re crying.]

After a minute she turned to me with slightly drier eyes and this happened:

Girl 1: “Teacher, I’m sad.”

Me: “Why? What happened?”

Girl 1: “My friend [gesturing to Girl 2, at the desk across from her] will change school [transfer]” —

Girl 2: “No, no, not true! It’s a lie!” (begins laughing in a knee-slapping kind of way because apparently she just played a hilarious joke on her bff)

Girl 1 and I looked at each other.

“I’m confused,” she said.

Me too, kiddo. Me too.

Saying goodbye with raw fish

Tonight the teachers had a special 회식 (staff dinner): a goodbye dinner for our principal. He’s been promoted and will be abruptly leaving us next week, just three weeks into the second semester. The following day the new principal will arrive, and word on the street (or word in the classroom) is that no one knows what we’ll get. Man or woman, friendly or standoffish, lenient or strict. It’s all luck of the draw.

I’ve got to pull the formal Korean introduction phrases from the back of my brain and dust them off in preparation for meeting this new principal. It’s been quite a while, since our current principal has been at my school since I arrived.

Speaking of him, one thing is certain: the new one can’t possibly be kinder. This principal was always supportive of the teachers and did everything he could to make our work easier, not harder. He went out of his way to make me feel comfortable and supported, both figuratively and by literally walking two stories up and all the way to the end of the hall to my office several times a year to ask me if I have “any problems in my Korea life,” and that if I ever did, I should tell him so he could help me.

My first memory of him is being ushered into his office on my first day of teaching ever, gripping the paper coffee cup he’d offered me for dear life, awkwardly wondering what to say or do beyond “Annyeonghaseyo, bangapseumnida (hello, nice to meet you).” Then he smiled and told me in English to “sit comfortably” (I was already sitting, but he probably noticed my death grip on the coffee cup or my general tension) and asked where I was from and told me that the class size at this school is small compared to other middle schools. Eventually a co-teacher arrived and rescued me, taking me up to my office.

Tonight at dinner, he stood and gave a short speech to all of the staff, and I sat there wishing that I could feel the meaning of his words like all the other teachers could. I know from what I could catch that he was saying things like he’s glad we all persevered through the stress and rough times of teaching and he’s sorry to leave us, but it’s different when you can absorb the nuance of the chosen words. I want to be told that I persevered through hard times too, dangit.

On another note, the restaurant of choice tonight was a 횟집, a.k.a. a raw fish/sashimi place. This is not what the average American pictures when someone says “let’s get sushi tonight.” This is straight-up whole baby octopi (about the size of a quarter, kinda cute but not exactly mouthwatering), an enormous platter of thickly-sliced, very sinewy and chewy raw fish (that’s how they like it here), strips of eel, an entire larger boiled octopus (about the size of a fist) whose rubbery legs and head must be cut into pieces with a kitchen shears, revealing its little heart or brain or whatever is in there… and so on.

It was my great fortune to be sitting with probably the only other three teachers in the school who also dislike raw fish: my young co-teacher, the IT teacher, and one other teacher. Other than my co-teacher, no one around us could speak English, but I quickly gathered from their conversation, body language, and laughter that we were all on the same page. (A page of commiseration.)

We amused ourselves by covering up the gaebul with rice because nobody wants to see that unholy site at the dinner table. (Check the pictures at the link and you can probably guess this wormy fish’s unappetizing nickname [hint: male anatomy]).

Then we picked at a few side dishes, tried a few pieces of this or that to see if our tastes had changed (spoiler alert: they hadn’t), drank a lot of Coca-Cola and Sprite, and slipped out as a group in raw-fish-hating solidarity after just enough time to not be totally rude.

And let it be known that I truly appreciate that this was a fancy and probably quite expensive place. I mean, we had a large room reserved to ourselves (separated from other areas of the restaurant by traditional sliding doors). It was traditional-style dining, so we all sat on the floor around long low tables, three full tables of teachers, probably 30-40 of us. Each table of four people was served dish after dish after dish of fresh fish and countless side dishes, plus sodas, plus ice buckets full of beer and soju (of which my table did not partake).

I appreciate it, but I appreciated being able to leave at a reasonable time even more.

We’ll see what happens next week as the big change occurs. I wish it didn’t have to happen now, mid-semester. Maybe I’ll update on the situation, but – as has become clear I think – no promises.

Empty

I don’t just hate summer. I loathe it with every fiber of my being. Even as it drains the last ounces of energy from my soul towards the end of August, I loathe it with whatever remains in me. And since that little bit of me that’s left is focused on loathing the sun and the heat and the moisture and the insects and the relentless cicadas and the towels that never quite dry and the smell of air conditioning and the headaches – there’s not much left of me to feel anything else. Which is obviously not great for the overall wellbeing of a human.

I’m sure others could paint an equally bleak picture of getting through the winter months. I suppose I’m lucky that, at least here, the colder months slightly outnumber the warmer (and the hellishly hot).

Maybe it’s the summer that discourages me from posting here. Maybe it’s the fact that I get an urge to delete bunches of previous posts because, as with most people, my thoughts and opinions are constantly changing and I don’t like the things that past me wrote. Maybe it’s the nagging feeling that blogging, like every social media platform, is just another narcissistic tool for the generation of over-sharers. Maybe it’s the uncomfortable vulnerability of writing in voices that I never use in real life to express thoughts I never speak aloud.

I changed my blog theme again because it felt like the thing to do.

One more week of August.

Fall isn’t here yet. Summer will keep its death-grip on the city, and around my lungs, for weeks to come, until the first fingers of cool air from the mountains finally slink down into the enormous valley that is Daegu and brush across the world and make me feel alive again.

I look forward to the moment it happens. It’s like remembering something from a recurring dream; foggy, not completely real, but you just keep dreaming about it. The moment that I can really breathe again and feel cold air rushing into my lungs, like waking up from a nightmare.

I want to wake up.


 

For any dear relatives or friends who may read this and feel seriously concerned about my mental state, please rest assured that I am totally fine. I just like elaborately complaining about this season to help me get through it.