Happy-ish Halloween

Today is technically Halloween, but yesterday was it for me. And I shall never celebrate it again if I have a choice. We had an enormous Halloween party at our school for the kiddies, and let's just say that I was pretty much ready to shoot myself by the end of the day. I've come to the conclusion that when you put 4 and 5 year-olds in costumes, they are suddenly filled with pure evil and they become irrevocably uncontrollable. Their only redemption yesterday was the fact that they looked super cute all dressed up in their Halloween garb. Unfortunately, I didn't get any photos of the kindergarten students (or myself; I went as a witch--a scary one, apparently, as I made two kids cry) but I did, however, get some pictures of the elementary kids who come to our school in the afternoon. They were by far the worst behaved of the day; repeatedly stealing my witch's hat, stabbing me with their swords, pitchforks, wands, etc. and screaming and running just for the sake of screaming and running. But I know come Monday I'll love them a little bit again... maybe.

You will notice the store tags still attached to the monster's head.

These two were clearly unimpressed by any of our attempts at entertaining them.

And this one was doing an impression of one of our former foreign teachers. The little guy can't be accused of having a poor sense of humor.

In other news, I think a couple of my friends and I are going to attempt making homemade apple cider tomorrow. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I hate wasting food but, most of the time, my cooking experiments leave me with edible yet repulsive results. I will give a full report when we're finished.

Tales From The Classroom

I taught some of my first grade elementary school kids the word "toot" the other day. While some might find this a completely unnecessary word to teach ESL kids who are learning basic conversation skills, I have reason to disagree in this case. I have a chronic fart-er in this particular class who has the most pungent flatulence quite possibly in the world and he just. can't. control. it. While most people have the ability to hold in such stinky-ness, this poor little guy has either failed to learn how to hold them in, or he just doesn't have the muscular capacity required to accomplish such a feat.

Anyway, in an attempt to keep the student from gassing the entire classroom and everyone within it on a daily basis, I told him to raise his hand and urgently say, "May I go to the bathroom and toot, please?" if he ever felt the slightest inkling that it may be coming (there's no reason he can't ask politely). I asked him if he thought he could at least try to hold it in until he escaped the classroom doors, and he solemnly swore that he would try to the best of his 6-year-old ability.

It worked.

Yesterday, while I was dryly giving a lecture on the importance of not hitting the person sitting next to you, Ben urgently raised his hand and shouted, "May I go to the bathroom, please? I have a toot!" I even more urgently yelled, "Get out of here!" and off he went. Those of us who remained in the classroom sat on pins and needles wondering if the smelly student would wait long enough for the stench to dissipate before he reappeared. Thankfully, he decided to wait a bit. He came back in a few minutes later and proudly announced, "Miss-uh McClintic," (that's what he calls me) "My toot is very long and it make a loud motorcycle sound!"

Call my teaching methods subpar, but it made me proud.

Semi-Annual Update

I've done a lovely job of neglecting this thing, haven't I? I was going to blame it on the fact that I now have a routine, causing one day to blur into the other and thus leaving me with nothing of interest to say here. But I just scrolled down my page and realized I failed to write much when I didn't have a routine, either.... Maybe I'm just a woman of few words. (Or maybe I just lack any form of discipline.)

The sinus infection has almost completely gone (knock on wood)! A couple of weeks or so ago, I went to the doctor to have him examine my useless sinuses (that I'm still a little angry with) and he surprised me with a shot in my cedar end (as my grandma likes to call it). Fortunately he didn't give it to me himself--he sent his nurse in to do his bidding. His nurse was a burly woman (if burly women do indeed exist in Asia) and she seemed to be a little insensitive and cold toward my nervous, "Will it hurt?" questions. She told me to bend over the table, then proceeded to jerk down my pants, slap my bum twice as hard as she could (at least that's how it felt), then she stuck the needle in. If distraction was what she was aiming for, then she did a great job. I was so stunned by the spanking that I didn't even realize I had gotten the shot, so I was a little surprised when I noticed she was standing there glaring at me, waiting for me to pull my pants back on and kindly leave the room. And now let's hope that I don't get sick again within the near future, because I would really rather not go through that whole episode again, thank you very much.

Other than that little tidbit of news, I really have nothing else to report. Jimmy has gotten a little better about controlling his bowel movements (he only had an accident in my class two times last week!), and the rest of my students seem to be getting along just fine. The novelty of having a new teacher has finally worn off, so my classes are now surprisingly calm. And I would even venture to say that my kids are developing a bit of an attitude; when I walk into their classrooms, they no longer run toward me screaming and smiling and saying "I love you, Miss McClintic!" (they seriously did that every day up until a couple of weeks ago). Nowadays they actually seem a little annoyed that they have to sit on the floor and interact with someone in a language they would really rather not speak. I can't say that I blame them, though (and it definitely helps that they're still cute).

OK, it was a poor attempt at a blog entry, but at least it was still an attempt, right? I'll try to update sooner next time, but I won't bother making a promise, as I seem to almost purposely break them.

Fall, Sicknesses, and Poopy Pants

Obscene amounts of overtime at work and lesson-plans fit for 40-year-olds instead of 4-year-olds--I believe that's where I last left you. Since then, the overtime has dwindled into non-existence and the lesson plans have become more manageable (i.e. I've quit following them verbatim). Life is finally starting to settle down a bit in the grimy city of Ulsan. Fall is trying to make it's way into October, but it's failing somewhat miserably. There were a few days of chilly breezes last week, but they have quickly been replaced by sticky humidity and mildly warm temperatures. Maybe most people would be okay with summer lingering a little longer, but I miss the cool autumns that force me to bust out my sweaters and hideously pink (but ridiculously comfortable) fuzzy slippers. But maybe by the time November rolls around, the weather around here will finally decide to act according to the season.

With the changing of the seasons--no matter how small the changes may be--inevitably comes various illnesses, most typically the flu and head colds. I have not at all been immune to any such illnesses. If anything, I seem to be the carrier and primary sufferer of them. I have yet another head cold at the moment and it is acting suspiciously like a sinus infection (green snot and the works!). This weekend was number four out of the five weekends we've been here that I've been too sick to go out and do anything. (Poor me, yadda yadda. Remedy advice is welcome.) To top off the boredom that has been spawned from my current situation, I'm feeling a teeny bit guilty for exposing my itty bitty students to the nasty germs that seem to be seeping from my pores. A number of my students were absent due to flu-like symptoms on Friday, and I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for infecting the little tykes. (Then again, since Koreans insist on working through sickness and health and expect their foreigner employees to do the same, can I really be blamed?)

Moving on to other student-related news: I have a little boy in one of my 4-year-old classes named Jimmy, who I think is at least borderline retarded. Aside from his odd behavior during class (he randomly screams in neither English nor Korean at times and then stares off into space with his mouth gaping open for sometimes up to 10 minutes), he seems to have a hitting problem (he doesn't discriminate between teachers and other students), and he is always running into things--namely the wall (he likes to hit students and then run away while looking over his shoulder and, consequently, usually ends up in a head-on collision with the nearest wall or door). There is clearly something askew with the poor little guy, but his mother seems to be in complete denial and insists on sending him to a regular kindergarten, in spite of his inability to interact normally with other students, let alone with the teachers. All of that aside, Jimmy has a pooping problem. As in, he does it frequently. And he usually does it in his pants. While teaching his math class on Tuesday, I suddenly got a whiff of something fowl that resembled a ripe, poopy diaper. The smell was so strong that it immediately hit my gag reflex and I let out a dry heave. The two students on either side of Jimmy crinkled their noses up a little bit, but simply scooched a few more inches away from him, without tearing their faithful little gazes away from the chalk board. This was my first sign that maybe this happens to Jimmy a lot. I signaled a nearby Korean teacher to haul Jimmy out of class, as the foreign teachers are not allowed to take a student into the bathroom (a rule that I'm even more thankful for nowadays). She returned with Jimmy, who was clad in a new pair of pants, about 15 minutes later, a disgusted look planted on her face and a relaxed and rejuvenated look on his. On Thursday, my hunch about Jimmy having a pooping problem turned out to be correct, as the same scenario repeated itself in my P.E. class. Lucky, lucky me. Here's hoping I can keep my gag reflex under control for the remainder of the year.

Well, the believed-to-be-cold-medicine (one can never be sure when they don't speak the language of the pharmacist!) I took earlier seems to be kicking in and I'm getting a little too drowsy to be writing my deep, insightful stories on life in Korea. But I promise, more stories will come....

Forlorn Little Tag-Alongs

First off: Let me just say, I don't even want to imagine what an entire year at my current place of employment will look like. But I can make a not-so-wild guess.

What a week (or two) it has been! The sweet little tykes I've been spending my mornings and afternoons with have simply zapped every ounce of energy I have ever possessed in my life. That's right: In.My.Life. How in the world can a child wake up at the crack of dawn, tolerate his/her mother getting them ready for the day (in ways that only crazy Korean mothers do), and still come bouncing through the school doors (still at the crack of dawn in my book) with more hyper-activity than the Energizer Bunny could ever compete with? And all of this without the assistance of coffee?? Children are truly amazing. And they truly make me want to climb back into bed and go back to sleep.

In a nutshell: I'm finding my current situation to be exhausting. I'm working from 9:30 to 5:30 (kind of like a real job!), which isn't a horrible thing within and of itself. But I'm spending the majority of those 8 hours with the aforementioned kiddos--who are as cute as buttons and as psychotic as... well, something that's really psychotic. But that's not the worst of it. The director of my new school is a sweet Korean woman who taught kindergarten for many years before opening her own school(s). She really cares about the education of our students--unlike the directors I've worked for in the past who were merely businessmen and, frankly, didn't care if the kids at their schools actually learned to speak English, so long as their parents were paying tuition. Those things said, however, Mrs. Lee (new director) is expecting quite a bit more out of the foreign teachers than what I'm accustomed to. Now, don't get me wrong: I don't mind work. In fact, I like working for a school that has a more structured teaching method, and I like preparing for classes knowing that my students will actually learn something. But dear Mrs. Lee is requiring a lot of overtime, which I can't honestly say that I like.

Our first week on the job, both Ken and I were required to accompany all of the students on a field trip to a space observatory after school was finished. We didn't actually call it a day until 10p.m. that night (that's right--a 12-and-a-half hour work day on top of jet-lag). Then last week, I came down with a flu that turned into the worst case of laryngitis I've ever had. To my school's credit, they pardoned me from accompanying the children on yet another field trip, and had me sit at the school doing absolutely nothing from 9:30 to 5:30. But come 6p.m., all of the students' parents came trickling in for a "camp" night that consisted of a catered dinner, games, and meeting the new foreign teachers. I was not pardoned from this activity and ended up having to host a game booth while meeting the parents of my new, tiny students. And, no, I didn't have a voice. And, no, the parents were not happy to learn that their child's new teacher was impaired. Once again, we didn't call it a day until after 10p.m. And guess what? We get to repeat the whole process again this coming Friday! (I just audibly groaned at the thought....) Beyond those overtime atrocities, we were just informed today that we may be required to work two Saturdays a month, starting next month. Of course, we get paid for the overtime hours we put in... but I don't know if I can physically or mentally handle the little monsters on Saturdays. Geez. Louise.

On top of the overtime expectations at my new school, some of the actual teaching expectations have been a bit... absurd. For example, I had to teach my four-year-olds the meaning of a "forlorn little tag-along" today. And yes, "forlorn" and "tag-along" are two of the vocabulary words they are to be focusing on for the remainder of the month. Seriously? I chuckled to myself numerous times during the lesson today as the kids just sat there staring at me blankly while I explained, "We all have times in our lives when we feel like 'forlorn little tag-alongs', but don't worry! It will get better!" (Hey, I tried, okay?) It made it even better when one of the little girls chose that particular moment to nod off and topple out of her little chair.

Yes.... This will be a long year.

Back In The Saddle Again...?

Well, I'm back in Korea. In the smoggy, acid-rain-soaked city of Ulsan this time around. I arrived late Saturday night after nearly 24 hours spent on 3 flights and in 4 airports, severely sleep-deprived and seriously questioning my decision to come back to this lovely(ish) peninsula.

The trip from Toronto to Chicago and from Chicago to Seoul and from Seoul to Busan went smoothly, without event. Thankfully. And although both Ken and I were dreading the flight from Chicago to Seoul the most (all 14 hours of it!), we were pleasantly surprised when, upon boarding the Korean Air flight, we discovered a brand-spanking new airplane with wider seats and personal entertainment systems that included a selection of 30+ movies and all the video games a Korean teenage boy could dream of (it was a small light in the otherwise dismal circumstance). I managed to watch six movies, take a short nap, and play a few games of Tetras before we landed in Seoul!

Upon our arrival in Busan, we were met by our recruiter (whom we've both worked with in the past), who whisked us out of the airport to his waiting vehicle for the long drive to Ulsan (OK, so maybe it was only an hour--but it felt longer). As Simpson (said recruiter) cranked up the radio in his car so we could hear the latest Korean pop hits, he swerved us out of the airport parking lot and into on-coming traffic. Welcome back to Korea. I immediately reached for the holy-crap-handle above my door and held on for a typical ride along the Korean highways--lots of traffic, lots of weaving in and out of said traffic, and lots of car horns wailing. (I realize I've lived here for two years, but I got used to being back in the States where traffic, even on a bad day, is relatively calm.)

Moving on.

We were thrown into the classroom at our new school first thing Monday morning. This year I'm working for a kindergarten, teaching 3 and 4 year olds how to speak English when they can barely even speak Korean. It's been interesting thus far, let me tell you. Instead of allowing the students to call me "Liz Teacher", as I've been referred to at my previous schools, my supervisor instructed me to make the wee ones call me "Miss McClintic". Excuse me? Most grown native-English speakers stutter around with "McClintic" the first time they try it on for size! (?) Basically the kids have been calling me "Miss Mcroonoo" all week, and I'm not sure it's going to get much better as the year progresses. The saving grace in this job, however, is the little tykes are positively adorable. (But after a few months of "Miss Mcroonoo", mixed with lots of tears and toddler-tantrums, I might be singing a different tune all together.)

I suppose I'll wind up this post, as I'm currently sitting in a smokey PC Bhang, getting lung cancer as every minute passes. Every morning I wake up wondering how in the world I ended up back here. But I'm here! And I will do my best to keep everyone updated on my oh-so interesting life in Ulsan, South Korea as the year goes on. And if I fail here, check Facebook.

Just Another Manic.... Tuesday.

OK, I'm well aware of the fact that I'm the world's worst blogger when it comes to keeping my public updated (OK, maybe not the worst; Mom, you win that award, hands down). However, in my defense, I have three great excuses for my slacking off in the blogging world: (1) My stupid, devil-cat chewed through my Internet cord at home and I just haven't bothered to have it replaced. (2) My Internet time at work has been practically taken away from me, due to checking my email too much while I'm on the job, or some such nonsense (but--hey!-- I have a bit of a rebellious streak and... here I am). (3) I'm the laziest person in the world.

Life in Korea is the same as usual: I'm teaching a group of adorable, monstrous children who really want very little to do with the English language. And I can't necessarily blame them for it, even though I am their teacher and I'm supposed to be inspiring them. But in all honesty, I wouldn't want to learn this ridiculous language either if I were in their shoes, and so I do my best (a) to get them through each class period with as few tears and fights as possible, and (b) to teach them one or two useful things about... I don't know... life.

In other news, I'm going to China in two weeks and four days. I'm not excited about it, obviously. I'm heading to Beijing with a ridiculously large tour group of expat teachers in Korea for a few days at the end of the month. I'm reaching the I-can't-stand-it-here-anymore phase of my time here in the Big K, and so anything and everything that even comes close to resembling a vacation is welcomed with open arms. I'm particularly excited about this trip, however, because I get to see the Great Wall of China and scratch it off of my ever-increasing list of places to see. I might keep you updated on how the trip goes. Then again, given my track record on this thing, I might not.

OK, the boss is walking towards me, slowly but surely. Time to bring this insanely short blog to an abrupt halt before I get caught being blatantly disobedient (because, hey, it's not like I'm 26 years-old or anything). Leave comments, please, because it might just encourage me to blog again within the next few weeks.

Schedule? What Schedule?

If I can boast about one thing in life, it's my ability to be exceptionally flexible. Not flexible in the physical sense, mind you; anyone who has seen me attempt to twist my body into any yoga-like position knows physical flexibility, for me, is nothing more than a thing to joke about. But I pride myself on being mentally flexible, which I think is more important anyway. :)

Since moving to Korea, I have come to the realization that having a schedule of any sort is entirely meaningless. Every schedule at my school is subject to change at any moment, without any fair warning whatsoever. Example: Today I went to my 7:30 middle school class to find the math teacher standing at the podium. What the--? I looked around the classroom in confusion as my students started babbling in a weird English-Korean-combo-language about my class being canceled. I tracked down my boss and a translator and found out that my entire schedule, starting that minute, has been changed for the rest of the semester. Thanks for telling me before I prepped for all of my classes, guys! But not to worry--this girl can roll with the punches. And since I don't have class for the next 45 minutes, I'll just blog about my flexibility.

To add to the whole schedule thing, today my boss informed me that we're doing away with the textbooks for eight of my classes. This, naturally, led me to believe that we would be replacing them with different textbooks. Forgive me for being stupid, but I thought it was a safe assumption to make. Wrong. "You need to make your own curriculum" were the terrible words that followed the first announcement. Ugh. This means I need to plan my lessons from scratch, with absolutely nothing to go by. And when does this hefty task need to be completed? Before next Monday. Lovely. But it's okay because I'm a good teacher and I'm flexible. I am flexible, I am flexible, I am flexible!!!

Just a few moments ago, as I was writing this post, a teacher approached me and said, "We have a parents' meeting at 2 o'clock tomorrow. Please prepare a presentation about your teaching method and give it to me in the morning." It's 8:10 in the evening. I'm scheduled to leave work at 8:30.

OK, so mental flexibility only goes so far.... Someone shoot me please.

The Joys of Teaching...

One of my students told me the other day that he couldn't sit through my class because he was--get this--sea sick. Since I do not teach at a school that is located on a boat and since I was certain this kid hadn't been anywhere near a body of water within the past 24 hours (the education system in Korea makes sure of that), I was a little perplexed by this announcement. When I asked if maybe he had a headache or if his stomach was giving him trouble, he replied, "No. I said I'm sea sick." Fine. Whatever, Johnny. Now shut up and sit down.

I teach a class full of 15 year old boys. No girls. This is tragic for a number of reasons, mainly pertaining to their pubescent sexual curiosity and me (the only female in class) as their target for 50 minutes a day, three times a week. A few weeks ago, the boys ignored my instruction to write complete sentences using their vocabulary words and instead opted to chat amongst themselves in Korean. When I heard the Korean word for "teacher" make its way into the conversation, my ears immediately perked up. Two of the boys were snickering and casting sly glances at me when I caught one of them saying "cup size". The poor boogers didn't realize that "cup size" is apparently a Kong-glish word and that I understood perfectly what they were talking about. I immediately broke up their little conversation with a tangent about being respectful and about actually doing the assignments I give to them instead of talking about stupid things in class. They all nodded their heads and appeared to be thinking seriously about my words when one of them suddenly piped up and said, "Teacher, what is your cup size?" I proceeded to kick them all out of my class. (Unfortunately, I had to give an explanation to my boss for why every single one of my students was standing out in the hallway. That was an awkward conversation.)

Just last week, one of my elementary students decided--in all of her kindness--to share her concern for my "weight problem". I was giving a lecture on verb usage when the little dear raised her hand and said, "Teacher fat." As I was about to correct her sentence to "Teacher is fat," or "Teacher, you are fat," she suddenly pointed to my bum and said "Whoa, biiiiiiiiggg" between fits of giggles. She then proceeded to point to just about every other part of my body and repeated the same line, much to the amusement of the entire class. And what was I supposed to do with that? I did exactly what any self-respecting woman should do: I immediately conjured up a crash diet and workout plan in my mind (it crashed before it started) and I cried myself to sleep that night. (Note to you kind people who may feel the need to say something to make me feel better: (1) I'm being dramatic, and (2) I'm over it already, so no worries.)

Ah yes, these are the joys I encounter every day as a teacher. Whoever said teaching is a rewarding job clearly never taught a class in his/her life, or he/she was presumably on drugs through the entirety of his/her teaching career (and if the latter is the case, I need to know what kind of drug was used and how I can get my hands on it).

Sunny Days and Sore Throats

True to form, I have been terribly neglectful with this dear blog of mine. I have no reasonable excuse for my absence here other than the fact that I'm terribly lazy, which isn't an excuse so much as it is a confession. So, I'm lazy. There you have it.

I woke up a few days ago with a raging sore throat that made me want to cry my eyes out, but couldn't do so because it caused too much strain in the neck-region. I'm sick. Go figure. I'm finding that being a teacher could quite possibly be the worst thing for my immune system (if I even have one left at this point in the game). My sore throat has persisted for a few days now and I have remained strong by refusing to see a doctor or take a sick day. Which might be why I feel like total crap today. I might have to cave and go to the clinic tonight after work and take the 20+ pills a day that will undoubtedly be prescribed for me (they're big into the pill-popping around here). In the defense of my current profession, however, this is the first time I've been sick upon my grand return to Korea. At this time last year, I think I was going on my fifth sinus infection, so really I'm having a pretty good year, all things considered. (Knock on some wood for me, please!)

In other entertaining news, beach season is upon those of us residing in the thriving city of Busan! The weather is absolutely, positively beautiful. The temperature today is in the 70-ish region and the sun is shining blindingly. It makes me one very happy woman, in spite of the pain eating away at my throat. Naturally, I'm stuck inside for the day, teaching antsy children who just want to go outside and play in the sun (with their parasols, visors, and SPF 1000 of course), but I can feel the effect of the sun on my soul even within these four concrete walls. I heart summer.

Good grief, this doesn't even come close to a proper update. But I suppose it's better than nothing, right? As it is, I have class in five minutes and I'm feeling the need to prepare some sort of material for my poor, education-deprived students (since I've been sick, I've neglected to adequately prepare for my classes and my students, needless to say, have been bored to tears because of it). So I'm being forced to bring this pathetically brief post to a close, with the very feeble promise of another post arriving shortly. (And you all know at this point that I'm full of crap.)

It is sunny and windy today in Busan. The temperature is cold. I do not like it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a sample of the average daily conversations I have here in the Big K. Simple, shallow, and easy as pie. I swear my language skills deteriorate a little more every day. I find myself speaking slowly and as clearly as possible to even my native English-speaking friends sometimes, only to receive an offended-sounding, "Are you patronizing me?" I moved to the other side of the world to open my mind and to gain more knowledge of how the world outside of America functions; but apparently I have to sacrifice the fluency of my own language in order to make room for the new information that is crowding my mind. Argh. (See what I mean?)

I recently started to teach an adult class at my school. I was so nervous about this prospect because the students are made up primarily of the math and science teachers at my institute and, therefore, I felt extra pressure to do a really good job. This enormous pressure weighed down on my already heavy-laden shoulders (ha) for two reasons: (1) I was terrified they would think I was a bad teacher and they would report me to my boss and then, as a consequence, I would be deported back to the States (a black mark on my record I would just assume live without). (2) Adults , even though I am technically an adult, have always terrified me for some reason. I find them to be intimidating and evil; but if I'm honest with myself, I will admit that I feel this way mainly because I can't feed adults as much BS as I feed the little kiddies. I actually have to know what I'm talking about and (horror of horrors) I must be prepared. Today, however, was my third class with the adult teachers/students and I realized, with a jolt of surprise and excitement, that I love teaching adults. I love it. I never would have guessed it to be true, seeing as how I loved working with the little ones so much last year. But the students in my adult class know enough English to communicate and they're so much fun to talk to. And, to make my life a little bit better, my other classes are comprised of mainly middle school and high school students; two age groups I'm finding to be mentally stimulating and flat out hilarious. Life in Korea is too good....

In other news, today I picked up what I thought was a red bedspread that I had ordered last week from a little bedding and curtain store I found a few blocks down the street from my building. Turns out, it's only a mattress pad. Crap. I guess I need to be creative and try to figure out how to make it work for the look I'm going for ("the look" being an actual blanket). Oh the joys of living in another country and not speaking the language.

OK, my three-hour break is up. It's time to go to class.

Photo Ops

I hauled my camera into work today, in hopes of snapping a few memorable shots of my students in all their glory. I got a number of fun pictures that you can check out here. Or you can just click on the little Flickr badge to your right. Whatevs.

The Day of the Full Moon

I know it will be a full moon tonight. I know this not because I’m a regular on weatherchannel.com, nor because I have a calendar that marks the date of the moon’s full appearance. I do not have a sixth-sense regarding the weather or space, nor have I heard the words “full moon” uttered all day long. No. I only know it is a full moon tonight because I’m a teacher; a teacher to the cutest little kids on the face of the planet who, most of the time, are relatively well-behaved and a joy to work with on a daily basis. But I am also a teacher who has just had the most chaotic day in her entire career to date.

Besides my own somewhat erratic behavior (a subject I will not touch on in this post for fear of too much self-exposure), I noticed a distinct difference in the behavior of my students today. It was not, I might add, a difference of the pleasurable kind. If I told you that my kids were misbehaved today, it would be a colossal understatement. They were entirely and irrevocably out of control.

In one of my Howdy classes this morning (that’s the ridiculous name of my beginners class—a name I take absolutely no responsibility for), I had three students who decided it would be fun to not only stand on top of their desks, but to jump and dance like mad for the entertainment of their classmates. I’m sure these seven-year-old boys thought they were being incredibly funny, and I imagine they had visions in their little heads of becoming the coolest kids in class because of their daring behavior. I, on the other hand, was having visions of cracked skulls and possible paralysis from the waist down, so, naturally, I bellowed at them to get down off of their desks and to stay down before I called their mothers (which is a threat that is quickly becoming empty… my students are catching on to the fact that I don’t know enough Korean to actually have a tell-all conversation with their mothers). Much to my annoyance, the response I received from my students was an unyielding “No!” as they proceeded to dance a jig on their desktops. “Oh, no you didn’t,” I hissed under my breath as I marched over to their desks. I stood in front of the three offending students while glaring at them with the fiercest look I could muster, and said slowly and firmly (just to make sure they understood every word), “Sit down. Now.” I wish I could tell you that I appear to be a threatening human being when provoked, but apparently, such is not the case. One of the little criminals leaned over from his standing position on the desk until he was practically nose-to-nose with me and said (slowly and firmly, of course), “No, thank you.” The other two offenders resumed their jumping and screaming while the third one stood on his desk-turned-stage looking down at me, as if to say, “What are you going to do about it?”

After a few more fruitless words of persuasion, I found myself at a total loss. The three little terrors were ignoring my warnings and now the other students in the class decided to follow their dangerous example. The scene in my classroom was beginning to resemble that of a zoo, with little monkeys climbing on the desks, chairs, and—much to my horror—me. As I was contemplating my next move, I felt two little hands clutch my left ankle with a deadly grip. I looked down to see one of my favorite students (favorite because she is usually well behaved) sitting on the floor by my feet with her arms wrapped around my left leg, making it impossible for me to go anywhere. After a few minutes of persuading her to let go of me and trying to shake her off of my leg, I finally got loose and made a sprint for the door. I slammed it behind me and went bolting down the stairs to the front counter where the infamous Counter Teacher resides.

The Counter Teacher is a total mystery to me. I don’t know exactly what his job is at my school, but he doesn’t teach, and this is part of the reason I’m baffled by his title. I assume he is the go-to man for everything at the school, as I frequently see him in the school computer lab, tinkering with a computer after it’s been gummed up by a foreign teacher (such as myself) who can’t even read the start menu because everything on the computer is in Korean. I’ve also seen him coming out of the bathroom wearing rubber gloves, a dust mask, and a tube of caulking in hand, wearing a satisfied, “I’m the best fix-it-man ever” expression on his tan face. But most of the time I see him roaming the school hallways with a big, menacing wooden stick in hand, looking for misbehaving students to bop over the head and, for this reason, I find him to be quite useful on days like today. (Concerned reader, please note: I only use the Counter Teacher as a last resort.)

I made my way breathlessly to the front counter, frantically looked for the Counter Teacher, and started speaking at an alarming rate when I finally spotted him: “You have to come to my classroom right now! It’s total chaos! My students have formed a rebellion and I don’t know how to stop them!” The Counter Teacher looked at me with wide eyes and a totally perplexed expression on his face, and it was just then that I realized it: not only was I shrieking at the poor man, but I was shrieking at him in gibberish. That’s right, ladies and gents, you guessed it: He doesn’t speak English. I was in such a frenzy at this point, however, that I resorted to pulling on his shirt sleeve and motioning frantically for him to come with me upstairs to my classroom. He followed me up the stairs, appearing to be a little reluctant and maybe even slightly terrified, as I dashed up ahead of him. When we reached the second floor, I flung the door to my classroom open for the Counter Teacher’s judging eyes to behold the anarchy that was taking place at that very moment. The scene didn’t disappoint his need to beat someone over the head: There in front of him, in the small confines of my classroom, were screaming children running to and fro, there were crying little girls who got caught in the crossfire, there were bits of torn up paper flying through the air, and there were Korean profanities scrawled across the white board. (OK, so I don’t know Korean. I just assumed the messages on the board were profane.)

To make a very long story short (mainly because my fingers are cramping up from typing like a mad woman), nine of my twelve students received a whack over the head with the infamous wooden stick for being misbehaved (to put it mildly). I wish I could tell you they learned their lesson and they were behaved for the remainder of the class period, but I would be lying to make you believe that I’m an amazing teacher who has total control over her classroom. On the contrary: they resumed their chaotic behavior as soon as the Counter Teacher exited the room. After yelling to be heard until my voice started cracking, I finally resorted to my underdeveloped philosophy on teaching: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. We proceeded to play the wildest game of Simon Says I’ve ever played in my life, and now I’m left feeling exhausted and hopeful that the moon will not reveal itself in its entirety for a very, very long time.

Goguma

My students are always giving me weird nick-names. I had one student call me "Outer Space" for a few weeks until two weeks ago he decided he wanted his name to be "Outer Space." Last week one of the little boys in my class said "Teacher, you are Goguma!" and with that, he ran around the room laughing hysterically and shrieking with delight. When I repeated the word, "Goguma?" all of the other students joined in the laughing and shrieking and jumping up and down. As I've mentioned before, my Korean language skills are lacking, so I had no idea what this "goguma" meant. Beyond that, I had no idea why every time someone said the word "goguma" everyone in my classroom would leap out of their seats, screaming and laughing their little heads off.

After two days of this business, curiosity got the best of me. I finally worked up the nerve to ask my Korean teacher what the word meant (I was terrified it would be some horribly insulting word and that I would have to tell her my students were referring to me as "goguma"). Much to my relief--and total confusion--my Korean teacher told me that "goguma" means "sweet potato" and that there is nothing insulting about the word whatsoever. Oh good. But why are my kids calling me "Goguma"? I still have no clue.

The day after my "goguma" enlightenment, I marched into my class and said to my students, "Annyong heseyo. Cha nin Goguma im nida," which supposedly means, "Hello. My name is Sweet Potato." All of my students' eyes grew wide and they jumped out of their seats and went running around the room shrieking, "Goguma Teacher! Goguma Teacher!" and lauging hysterically.

So I am no longer referred to as "Liz Teacher." I am now known to the student population here at Kookje Foreign Language School as "Goguma Teacher." And it's still a mystery....

The Kiddies

On Friday, one of the little girls in my first class wanted to show me that she could blow a bubble with her gum (they're not allowed to chew gum in class, but as I've mentioned a few times before, I'm not really much of a disciplinarian). She chomped up her gum loudly (I guess she was preparing it for the big blow), took a deep breath, and gave that piece of gum all the breath she had in her little body. The gum, however, didn't comply the way she wanted it to. Instead, the pink, sticky substance came flying out of her mouth in its entirety and landed in another little girl's hair. I don't think I need to explain how I spent the rest of that class period....

In my second class of the day, one of my little boys decided to stand next to the window while he was reading English lines out loud from his book. For some unknown reason, the window was open, in spite of the freezing cold and the out-of-control wind. All of a sudden, a gust of wind came flying through the window, swept up the boy's book and, much to his and my horror, carried it out the window in a split second. Of course, all thirteen of us in the classroom dove toward the window to see what became of the book. I couldn't believe my eyes: the book was balancing on the ledge below the window, just out of reach. Did I mention we were on the second floor? The book was definitely stuck and the little boy was in a total state of panic, yelling something about his mother, among a mix of Korean words (I think he was saying something like, "My mother is going to kill me!!!"). Fortunately, the wind caught the book yet again, and it went plunging to the sidewalk below. (It only had a few minor scratches.)

Working with kids on a daily basis can be frustrating, but thank God they're entertaining. They give me something to laugh about every single day.

(Sigh)

Friends, Family, and Lovers (wait...)

I haven't had a whole lot of time to sit and write in this thing over the past couple of weeks. I don't even know where to begin....

Let's start with my kids, shall we? And when I say "my kids", I'm talking about my classroom (in the rare case of a hot, single guy stumbling upon my blog, I don't want him to think I have children of my own). My kids are (drumroll....) terrible!!!!! There are no words. Most of my classes are OK, but the last two classes of the day--shoot me please! I had a boy decide the other day that it would be fun to throw his chair across the classroom. I was totally shocked by this behavior and I asked him why he felt the need to do it. Much to my annoyance, he answered with a shrug and a poorly spoken "I don't know." The part that nearly threw me over the edge? He was laughing in my face. Ugh!!!!!!!!!! "You don't know? Well, why don't you spend some time thinking about it outside of my classroom." And with that, I gave him a nudge out the door and locked it behind him.

I told my friends over the weekend that I was having some discipline issues in the classroom and my friend Dan gave me a fabulous idea. He told me to have the offending child stand at the back of the classroom with his arms above his head for five minutes. If the child keeps talking out of turn while he's standing there, have him jump up and down with his arms above his head for ten minutes. I was absolutely horrified at the thought of torturing my kids with such a thing... until today.

One of the boys in my last class (noticing a "boy" pattern??) decided it would be fun to stab another kid in my class with his pencil. HE STABBED A KID WITH HIS PENCIL!!!! I promptly marched him to the back of the room and had him lift his arms straight above his head and started a timer. The offender was horrified. The whole class was horrified. They all started whispering to each other in Korean with shocked looks plastered on their little faces. The kid at the back of the room (we can start calling him Tom) started whining about his arms hurting. I gave him another five minutes... and it worked!!!! The rest of the class went smoothly after Tom sat back down at his desk. He knew he couldn't mess with me anymore because if he did, I would send him straight to the back of the classroom again. Throughout the rest of the day, all I had to do was point to the back of the room, and all of the kids would shut up and sit up straight. It was a beautiful thing. And it was funny. I had the worst time not laughing when I had a line of boys in one of my classes standing at the back of the room at one point today. Does that make me a bad teacher? (Please don't give me a conscience about this... I like the control I have for now.)

I made a visa run to Fukouka, Japan last weekend. My friend Mel took a few days off of work to come with me and we spent a grand total of four days in Fukouka (I love saying the name of that town). We shopped a lot, drank a lot of coffee, slept a ton, and visited two buddhist temples. One of the temples we visted was a Zen temple and it was really cool (whoa, I'm so discriptive). The temple gardens were amazing and the architecture of the buildings was beautiful and very Asian-looking. And, of course, what is a trip without at least one classic Liz moment?

Mel and I arrived at the Zen temple at 4:30 in the afternoon, and, much to our horror, the gate was closed! We were so disappointed because we made a huge trek to the other side of town to see it, but alas, the gate was shut tight. So... we decided to try and take pictures of the temple through the cracks in the wooden gate in front of the gardens. I perched myself right in front of the gate and put my camera lens right up to the largest crack/peep-hole I could find. I took a few pictures before Mel found a better way to get a snapshot: she found a huge rock right next to the gate. She stood on top of it to get a good view of the garden hiding behind the gate walls, and as she was balancing herself on top of the rock and taking pictures, a group of Japanese girls walked passed us, giggling hysterically while obviously pointing at us. I was a little annoyed with their blatancy, but I figured we probably looked ridiculous. If only I had known just how ridiculous we looked at the time..... One of the girls finally stopped giggling and came over to tell me, in very broken English, that the gate did not even come close to surrounding the gardens. In fact, if Mel and I would have walked five more feet we would have seen a huge opening in the gate where we could enter the temple gardens without any trouble whatsoever. Here we had gone to great lengths to take a picture of the gardens from a distance (we had labored for nearly 20 minutes at that point) when we could have just walked into the gardens. But at least I can't say "Only me!" because Melanie was just as ridiculous as I was in this instance. ;)

OK, I could keep going, but my fingers are tired and my eyelids are heavy. Working with kids on a daily basis exhausts me in ways I never thought possible. Stephanie and Adrienne, I have a new respect for what you do... and I pray that you find new jobs soon.

I'm here, alive, and in one healthy piece.

Welcome to the world of sea, mountains, beautiful people, and fabulous food (with a few exceptions). Or welcome to my world of snotty noses, broken sentences, and cute little faces. I'm in my second full day of teaching and wow. I guess I didn't think about the teaching aspect of this deal too much before I left, but it's proving to be a challenge. The kids are so, so, so adorable, and most of them are well behaved. "Most" being the key word. There are a restless few who I think live to defy every word I say. If I didn't love bad children so much, I would probably hate my life. But the truth is, I find it incredibly amusing when children misbehave. My biggest challenge is not laughing when I should be scolding, especially when a child curses at me in Korean. How did I know he was cursing? I didn't until all of the other children gasped and covered their mouths as though the worst word in the Korean language had been used against me. I couldn't help it; I laughed. Area that needs improvement: discipline in the classroom.

I have a number of stories to share and not nearly enough time. I have to be in class in 3 minutes, but I will update again soon... hopefully.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Birthday to me!

Much love to my friends and family and whoever reads this.