For ever and for ever when I move

As we find ourselves nearly a month into the busy new school year, the inevitable has happened: here, having been immersed in a busy schedule for quite some time, no longer rattled by culture quirks and no longer consumed with extra classes, we find Amanda- teacher sitting at her desk, grown quite used to the busy, busy schedule, and, consequently, almost according to schedule: bored.

Sure, I have loads of work to do. I could plan my lessons for next week, but today is only Thursday and I’ll have three hour- long breaks in my day tomorrow. I could print off the papers for my next class and cut them into thin, environmentally- friendly strips for tomorrow, but I’ve got another thirty minutes before class starts.

I would strike up conversation with the teacher beside me, but she can’t speak English, and though I studied Korean for two hours last night and two hours on Monday night, and though I practice and practice and practice, and though sometimes I use up a little class time trying to sound out Korean words and write in Hangeul on the board as the class screams out vowel sounds, gesticulating frantically in the air and laughing and screaming hysterically when I guess wrong, I can’t speak Korean for the life of me.

I remember when I was a kid, I used to hang around my dad while he was working in the yard, building or fixing things. I was a skinny little thing with long, wavy blonde hair from sleeping with a headful of braids, hair lightened by the sun, always reading books or catching frogs or getting my siblings into trouble.

I have vivid memories of hanging around my dad and as I’d hand him nails or just watch him work, I’d kick around and say, “Daaaad, I’m booooored.”

He would pause, look me up and down and say, “You don’t look like a board.” Which, of course, would make me awfully mad.

“Not a BOARD, Dad, I’m BORED.”

And he’d always say, “Well, go find something to do,” or, “Hand me another nail, please,” which would make me equally mad, because he was my dad, which meant he was supposed to be full of really cool ideas to fill all my time… right??

So, I guess some things never change.

So here I am, sitting in South Korea, wearing fancy teacher clothes and waiting for the clock to tick the minutes by, same little kid in fancy grown-up clothes, sitting in a pile of notebooks waiting to be graded, and I thought I’d share a bit of the delightful poetry of Korean notebook cover phrases with you:

(Quick disclaimer: It’s hip and cool for English to be printed on random things, like backpacks and notebook covers and clothing, so it’s a great past time to read these English bits and try to figure out what they say. The remainder of the post is a random sampling of English phrases off the covers of my student’s notebooks, concluded with a bit of that random phraseology in real- life conversation. Enjoy.)

“Strawberry Jam: Extraordinary color and sweet name”

“English Notebook: A strong passion for any object will ensure success, for the desire of the end will point out the means.”

“ENGLISH: Delicious Would you like some fresh bread. What a delicious smell!.”

“Open up your heart and greet the world as it is. We can always find joy and love wherever our eyes rest. Nothing is more precious than the truth, freedom and peace that we feel each day.”

“Pacific Ocean Brilliant jewels! Yes. It’s very nice.”

“English Are there any English speakers here? I have a knowledge of English.”

“Promise yourself to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. Look at the sunnyside of everything and make your optimism come true. Think only of the best, work only for the best, and expect only the best. Forget the mistakes of the past and press on the greater achievements of the future.”

“HELLO! How are you? Use it. And you will love it.”

“English The scenery will always be where it is, and the colors change very slowly… The natural life without affectation is always beautiful.”

“Rainbow: By happy rainbow magic of mind / They turn to pleasure all they find.”

“CATS: Happy together.”

“English Welcome to the fantastic English world.”

“ENGLISH: Look up. So many places have the most fascinating architecture and it’s easy to miss unless you look up. Check out the details. If you’re in the countryside, check out the clouds in the sky or just enjoy the blueness. Isn’t it lovely?”

“It’s a beautiful day! What a beautiful day! It makes you feel like a million!”

“There is no reason to believe it / But I want to tell this feeling to you now and then.”

“Chocolate mocha Love is like the color revolution”

“What a wonderful world The start of a happy life is the firm decision that I will must be happy and the practice that lead to you happiness from this moment.”

“Sweet heart In my childhood I dreamed about me…. Someday I’m gonna be beautiful.”

“English After a few months of hard work, I felt confident in my abilities in the English language, and I am now able to communicate fluently in English.”

“English holic People , even more than things, have to be restored renewe revived, reclaimed and redeemed redeemed Remember, if you ever need a helping hand / you’ll find one at the end of your arm”

“English My English Note Book Hello my friends! Endeavor is victory! Cheer up!”

And, to finish, a conversation with a student that just passed by my desk:

“Teacher, hello! How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“OH, very good. Biorhythm good.” (hahaha) “Teacher byyyeeee!”

The end.

This week in class we’re doing anatomy.

It’s a pretty fantastic lesson, in that the kids’ attention span stays focused as they draw faces, bodies, legs and arms, and my attention span is entertained as I get to toss up the lesson with differently styled beards, curly mustaches, incredible pictorial comparisons of cats’ whiskers to the whiskers of men, comparisons of hair buns to Paris Baguette’s sweet hot buns, explanations of fun things they already know but don’t know they know, like mascara and eyeliner and the heels of feet, toe nails and high heels and things that are neat, dimples as compared to pimples, bangs and ponytails, contact lenses and glasses, sun freckles on your face, whose shape may be round, oval or square, thighs, calves, which when single is calf, and the one that really gets a scream and incredulous, “Teacher, really!?”:

Belly button.

And I must say, if I do say so myself, that I draw a pretty adorable stick figure with pot-belly and belly button.

I also love to throw the kids off when I ask, “Beards, good?”, and they all scream in avid response, “NOOOOOO, DIIRRRTYYYY!”, and I tell them, almost as though it were a secret, gathering all their attentions before letting out the words:

“I think they’re cute.”

“GASSSPPP NOOOOOOOOO TTEEAAACHHHERRRR!”

“Yes, true. I love them.” And with a smug, happy smile and a sage, dramatic pause, “So cute.”

————-

“What is this?” I shake my hand, fist closed, and point to the motion.

“HAND NECK!!!!!”

“Well, in Korean, yes… but… wrist.”

————-

“What is this?” I point my finger in an upwards motion toward my nose.

“NOSE… TUNNEL!!!”

And with a lingering burst of laughter: “Well… close. Nostril.”

————

Yet, the best moment of all is as follows:

A bubble of conversation spreads across the room, and Mr. Choi approaches the chalkboard with a cloud of thoughts gathering across his face.

“Amanda, the students want to know, is chest… here…”, pointing slightly below the neck of the stick figure, “… or….”, as he timidly points to the cross-section of stick figure’s torso and arms, tapping the board a couple times before asking, looking at me with honest and innocent inquisition, and another pregnant pause, “…. or…. here?”

The students, all girls, mind you, roar in laughter and look at me with equal parts confusion, curiosity and expectance.

In honesty, I’m not sure how to answer, though I understand their confusion and waver between asking Mr. Choi to turn around as I draw and label breasts, hoping it is both within cultural bounds and not embarrassing to Mr. Choi and my all-female class, all the while wondering how in fact I would draw the picture (a squiggly line would win), and, in full knowledge that the students would diligently copy the squiggling line into their notebooks, which Mr. Choi would obviously see… or maybe Mr. Choi wants to know, too? And, as my confused, hesitated pause drew too long, Mr. Choi, blushing, spoke abruptly:

“Oh, we understand. Sorry.”

Torn between giggles and bashful looks, teachers and students alike, we decide to move on to belly.

And so the unanswerable question remains, which would be so easy to answer if not for the concern and respect and bashfulness in regards to areas of the body privy to secrecy and thus unable to be labeled on stick figures in public schools.

Maybe their translators can help, but probably not. How could you know which of the great variety of words to use? Language is endlessly complex and baffling. This same issue, so humorously laid bare in my classroom, is manifested worldwide, even within the mother tongue.
It was fun, however, to explain to one bold outburst, a nonchalant, “Oh, that?”, and as I turned to draw smell lines coming out from beneath the arm of the stick figure, much to the shrieking horror of the class:

“That’s an armpit.”

Quick trip on Saturday evening to visit Pyeongtaek, a city where my friend Emily lives. Her city is way more city than Yeoju… which, in Korea, means way more honeycomb high rise apartments that break out of the ground in white, towering clusters.

Snapped a few pictures so you can get the idea.

Cold crisp morning walk through a Pyeong-taek neighborhood.

Looking up from the sidewalk that weaves between the buildings.

Honeycomb buildings from a bridge to the street.

The last month, in pictures.

Bridge across the River Han, Center of Seoul, South Korea.

Crowded Hongik University subway stop, completely normal to be this packed. Seoul, South Korea.

Reflective Globe at Samseong Station outside COEX Mall, Seoul, South Korea.

Kimchi Museum, Seoul, South Korea.

A couple plays with legos during a coffee break overlooking Myeongdong shopping area, Seoul, South Korea.

Class Journal Entry: How do you feel about English? Yeoju, South Korea.

Current constant meditation: elephants and watercolors. Unfinished watercolor from trip to Thailand.

Quick sketch on a warm afternoon a little distance from school, Yeoju, South Korea.

“Teacher! OHhhhhhh!”

“Yes, hello. How is your mind map? Let me see.”

“OOHHHhhh Teacher, ohhh…” Pauses, points excitedly to eye, “Oh Teacher! Uh… eye… eye… Teacher, uhhh.. eye… brow? Oh! Very… buruupdefkjenglongphraseofKorean.”

“Oh, yes. Eyelashes.” I pull out paper where mind map should be but which is just a faux- mind map with circles and scratched, careless lines, flip it over, draw an eyeball and label eye, eyelash, eyebrow, figuring I’d try to sneak a little English anatomy vocabulary in her repertoire… “Eyelashes.”

“Yes! Teacher! Yes! Bverry…”

“Yes, very long, I know. They’re annoying.”

“OOOHHH, LONG, Teacher, long, woooaaaah! Teacher, me, my….”

“Very short, yes.”

Short pause to let the cluster of four students chatter in excited Korean as they marvel about long and short eyelashes, before, “Mind map?”

“Oh, Teacher, no.”

She looks at me for a moment before she shakes one finger, full of sass and I-don’t-speak-Engrishee attitude, “Teacher, no.”

“I sorry… where you from?”

“Migook saram imnee-dahh. I’m from America. Migook.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! Odee (muu muu muu) ….?”

“Minnesota, you know Minnesota?”

“Oh, Yes! California!!!”

“Um… no. Umm.. Chicago. You know Chicago?”

“Ohhhhhh, California! Ooo-upeedah! Ooouu-peediaaaa, beee-yooo-teee-fuuull, you beaaaauuuteefulll, understand? (Motions toward face) shoooop, small! Beeeyoooteeful. Eeeyyyyes, beeyooooteefulll, you know? Nay, beeyyoouuteeeful eyyyes.”

“Yes, okay, thank you. Cahm-sahm nee- dah.”

“Ohhh, I sorry, Engrisheee very…. I no speak-ee Engrisheee…”

“English is very difficult, I know.”

“Naaaay, difficult! I no speak-ee Engrisheee, veeeeeeery difficult!!!!”

“Cahn- chan-ayye-yo, I know, arr-ayo, It’s okay.”

“Okay? Okay. Beeeyooouteeful. Okay.”

[Monday night sample of conversation after random encounter with the teachers from my friend’s school, eating Samgyeupsal. There may or may not have been several bottles of Soju involved to spur this particular case of enthusiam. None of the factors involved are uncommon.]

Due to the fact that postage takes two weeks or more to deliver birthday letters, combined with my own limited ability to plan at least a week in advance, I have instead adapted to attacking my wonderful mother with birthday messages via every manner on the internetz and webz and phonez lines.

Consequently, I must take this opportunity to say, Happy Birthday Mama. You are one of the kindest people I know and I love you dearly.

I hope your day was filled with love and flowers and chocolates and music and smiling people and big hugs and lots and lots of love. I love you.

i

love

you!

And there you have it.

The semester begins in a flurry, teachers running around like crazy, lesson plans constructed spur of the moment, schedule changes ringing in as quickly as the bell rings to begin class, the water pot steaming constantly and the loud slurping of teachers on that sweet, sweet traditional sugar-cream dixie cup of coffee a continual hum in the background as the phone rings, students clatter in the hallways, highlighters and white-out sticks and pens, pencils scraping in their sharpeners, feet clattering across the office floor, fingers tapping on keyboards, the rhythm of the printer spitting out sheet after sheet, hot off the press, snipping slurping ringing speaking laughing screaming eating running printing tapping talking paper people voices:

the school year begins, and I couldn’t be happier, eager eyed- first year students that gasp in surprise as I walk in the room, excited second and third year students that cheer to see me, familiar with me and I can chat away at least half an hour, happy to see them, eager and my desk is covered with paper, colored pencils sketching out the hours of the day in an attempt to code my lesson plans, sunshine leaking through the shades to spill on my desk, a headache leaking in between my eyes and I realize I forgot to drink my morning coffee in the flurry of bells and lessons and students and

I am happy, who knew teaching was so much fun!?