For ever and for ever when I move

Finally, a picture of my classroom! This is a group of 2nd Grade girls, one of the medium higher levels of comprehension. I really really really enjoy teaching this size class– classes of 40 are a totally different playing field. As you can see, they are all adorable.

I managed to get them all to pose for a picture, but it only lasted about three seconds before they were back up again. I love this class! One of my favorites. <3

My classroom is pretty much the technologically savvy classroom in the school– I have the mega computer in the front, which sends the image on the computer to nine different computer screens that are hooked to each of the nine tables in my classroom. Also, I can make the screen project full- size screen on the wall. Great for videos, like the recent ten- minute clip of America’s Funniest Home Videos, Halloween edition, that I’ve been showing my classes. HUGE hit. Pure giggle- scream fest. Awesome.

As you can see, my class is a total hit. We do things like run around, create general chaos, and look at adorable pictures of puppies. Hooray, English Conversation class sans textbook! You're the best!

Sidenote,

This is the sentence game-- I show a picture to the class and spent the entirety of the class screaming, running, laughing, cheering and brainstorming in English. It's great.

Halloween is the best holiday ever to teach. Hooray for culture! I’m a total sucker when it comes to an entire classroom of girls screaming, “Candeeee, Teacher, Canddyyyyy!!!!” to me, arms outstretched and eyes begging… I went through a 2.4kg bag of hard candy in my first 2.5 days. Dangit. Luckily I learned to have a little discretion in giving handfuls and occasionally whip out the *high five* prize. The devastated- and- equally- surprised- and- hopeful looks on their faces is priceless. I also love actually giving them candy, which is why I’ve made (literally) three trips to the grocery store already. Sigh. Goodbye, October paycheck, you’re dissolving into the giddy giggles and screams of six hundred rural Korean girls, and I’m helpless to stop it.

On another note entirely, I went hiking up a mountain this weekend! For having a population of 50 billion people, Korea has done an amazing job of preserving the natural beauty of their many, many mountains. This weekend I hopped on a six- hour all- night bus full of tourists, Koreans and English teachers in order to arrive at Juwangsan National Park at 6am. Nope, I didn’t sleep a wink on that all- night bus ride, but it was unbelievably worth it to see the mountains. Due to technical difficulties, the mountains will not be pictured in this particular blog post, but I promise to show them to you soon!

In the meantime, I hope this awesome, random collection of pictures will tie you over until I can get my head on straight and show you thirsty followers some mountains!

Grandpa and bike, snapped on one of my early walks home from school.Autumn rice paddies turn a brilliant, beautiful golden yellow color. I love the alternating strips of yellow and green that crosses the horizon in autumnal Korea.Autumn rice paddies turn a brilliant, beautiful golden yellow color. I love the alternating strips of yellow and green that crosses the horizon in autumnal Korea.

Autumn rice paddies turn a brilliant, beautiful golden yellow color. I love the alternating strips of yellow and green that crosses the horizon in autumnal Korea.

Today is busy. Crazy busy. Actually, yesterday was busy too. And the day before that was equally insane. Final exams have finished, which, after my first lame-duck day of sitting around keeping my office chair nice and warm, ended up being… insanely busy. I proctored exams for first and second grade and, coincidentally enough, being that third graders already took their final exams weeks ago, I got to teach my third grade classes between the hours I proctored exams.

There are different kinds of busy here in Korea, especially for me. We’ll try to categorize them as follows:

Days when everyone is busy. When everyone is busy, which happens all the time, nobody tells Amanda when there are schedule changes. This results in Amanda-teacher being extremely flustered with a full schedule of classes. Oftentimes, the classes I’m prepared for will be cancelled, which usually happens in one of two ways: (1) As I’m walking out the office door, arms full of papers, coffee clutched in my right hand, I’ll hear a, “Oh!” from behind me. In previous weeks, I would continue walking and get chased down the hallway by Mr. Choi, but nowadays I’ve learned to turn around and raise both eyebrows inquisitively while Mr. Choi, one of the two, will tell me, “Amanda, your class…. cancelled,” to which I reply, “Oh, okay,” and sit. (2) Other days I make it all the way out the door, down the hallway, down two flights of stairs and across the courtyard to my classroom, chilly and empty, and wait. Some days I wait for up to fifteen minutes before I give up. Other days I just turn around and head on back to my chair- warming duties.

On the other hand, it is not unusual for me to begin to relax, preparing eagerly for an hour of casual sitting, coffee- sipping and class prepping when suddenly, with two minutes before the next period begins, I will hear a click click click of Mrs. Gang’s heels crossing the office before she appears above my right shoulder and tells me, “Amanda, you have class, now.”

Some days I’m cool as a cucumber, lessons planned, and I can do it.

Other days I have no lesson plan for the unexpected schedule change, am flustered from already teaching three classes that day, one of which probaby had 38 crazy students that I unexpectedly had to teach on my own, or I haven’t had my morning coffee, don’t want to re-teach the lesson again, desperately need a break or am dead-beat exhausted from working so many 12-hour days at school, and this is when I want to cry and wail, “WHY DIDN”T SOMEONE TELL ME????? I CAN’T DO THISSSSSSS ANNYYYY–MOOORREEEEE.” This feeling is usually accompanied by desperate attempts to stifle the hot, rising panic and those tricky little tears of anger/ frustration that are always trying to sneak out of my eyes at exactly the wrong moments.

An example of the wrong moment for tears: when standing in front of 18 eager Korean students, crazy and talking and all over the room, a giggling, crazy, paper- throwing, chair- pulling wrestling mess of students, knowing you have an hour with them and can’t seem to solidify your mind enough to decide which activity to start the class with.

As it is, today is a different kind of day. Those kinds of days are the days I don’t have time to write. Today is a day when:

Everyone else is busy. Let me paint out the scene for you. I arrive at the office and nobody is sitting at their desk. People are everywhere, teachers and students. Papers are everywhere. Everything is a flurry of activity and nobody sees me come in the door, walk through them, and sit at my desk. Mr. Choi doesn’t turn to me and happily say, “Good Morning.” There will be no conversation with me for the better part of the day. The bell rings for class and the flurry of motion carries on, oblivious. About ten minutes after the bell rings, everything is quiet and empty in the office.

I have come to learn that this is the kind of day when my classes are usually cancelled.

And, sure enough, half my classes today are cancelled!

Cheers.

Awesome discovery of the day:

That little pile of dried sardines on top of a sticky piece of paper underneath the copy machine is, in fact, a mouse trap. There’s another one by the water fountain.

Apparently Mr. Choi smashing a mouse on the head with a stick wasn’t enough to kill off the entire mouse family. He must have impeccable aim, as he used the same wooden rod that is used to discipline the kids in school. Incredible office gratefulness as well, though I, myself, was enjoying the random shrieks throughout the week, immediately followed by the male-teachers patrolling the office, wooden discipline rods ready and waiting, kicking desks and attempting to scare out the mouse.

I’ll take little piles of sardines as an adequate substitute.

So goofy.

As an editor’s note, I realize that my English is a little slaughtered in this note, but I’m pretty tired and overwhelmed by the tidal wave of Korean that I’ve been swimming in, and can’t seem to understand how, or why, or where, the precise slaughtering has occurred, so, despite the longevity of breathless sentences, and possible usage of incorrect wordage, in this blog post, in which, everything seems, to go, insensibly, on, and, on, and on, forgive me.

Okay, I admit it. I love my camera.

In fact, I love my camera as much as Koreans love mirrors.

And let me tell you, Koreans love their mirrors.

Rural reflection en route to Godalsil temple/ ruins

Mirrors in Korea are everywhere. In the hallways. In stairwells. Along entire walls in coffee shops. In my student’s hands during classes. On teacher’s desks.

I have seen more men preening in Korea than anywhere else in my life. I consider this to be an impressive statement, being that I lived for a time in Italy, home of beautiful Italian men, who are not like our timid, humble Midwest American men.

Intelzone Elevator Reflections - my apartment in Yeoju

The elevator in my apartment is completely mirrors, all four walls, including the doors.

It is not uncommon to find myself awkwardly sharing the elevator with one Korean man, of any age, but for now, picture one who is relatively similar to my age, perhaps mid- to- upper- twenties: and me, standing awkwardly upright and swaying my weight from heels to toes, heels to toes while said man stands with his back to me, face glued to the mirror, hands patting at his hair, picking at his teeth, gazing, preening, with nary a glance elsewhere.

Awkward.

This scenario is the opposite of America, where it is blatantly uncool to preen, especially in the presence of others.

Men preen, women preen, Amanda stands awkwardly unsure of what to do with her hands, but often decides to settle on making solid eye contact with the floor, or, when the floor feels too lame, with the steely, slightly squirming reflection of the eyes exactly even to my own.

To be fair, physical appearance is a matter of some significance in Korea. An attractive physical appearance plays a role in getting a good job, as has been explained to me several times.

Mirrored mustard scarf.

Rural road to Godalsil II

As a result, the women are incredibly stylish. They do their makeup in little hand mirrors on the subway. On the streets. In busses. In cafes. While on a date with their man, who happens to also be dressed very stylishly, and carries his own purse, or his woman’s purse, or both, with one over each shoulder.

Plastic surgery is not uncommon in younger girls, end of middle school prior to starting high school, who like to go to the doctor and get a double eyelid. Double what? Double eyelid. Yes. You heard correctly.

Did you know that you, in the event that you are a non-Asian reader of this blog, which is a large percent of my blogosphere audience, and consequently I am referring to you, yes, you have a double eyelid, and that Korean women find that to be an incredibly beautiful feature of your face?

You may also have a small face, which I have been told is extremely attractive, and you may have a big nose, of which my own has been endlessly discussed after first introductions.

Enough.

In the spirit of cameras and mirrors, I offer you the following collection of mirrors, cameras, and opposite-Amanda photos.

Enjoy.

Onlyholic reflections: small and incredibly cheap coffee shop

Okay, I confess, I seriously owe you some updates.

However, I am still short on time and am consequently going to assuage my conscience by feeding you pictures. This is picture- post one: snapshots around Korea, the basic grain and feel of Korea.

So here you go, please enjoy this miniature photo- update of the past month. I promise to write more soon. Before I do that, I may publish a second photo update of school life.

Love love love from Korea.

Buddha heads and books: Shelf shot from a cluttered shop in Insadong, Seoul

A sudden discovery: Back road treasure in Yeoju, South Korea

Traditional Samul Nori dance performance in Insadong, Seoul, South Korea

Very happy student with miniature snowman. Adorable. Yeoju, South Korea

Mandarin Oranges are the winter fruit in Korea, straight up from Jeju-do Island on the Southern tip of Korea. Delicious. Cheap. Incredibly delicious.

Asian self- photo with incredibly awesome dragon turtle grave marker for some ancient monk.

Me with a delicious bowl of spicy seafood Pho (yes, Vietnamese Pho!) and a mini squid clenched between my chopsticks. The smaller they are, the more chewy and tough they are. Plus the eight miniature legs covered in miniature tentacles is a little goofy.. the worst is if the little tentacles get stuck between your teeth.