Jun 28 2011

“I’m so sorry, but I love you.”

As with any language, there are certain phrases students are taught that really seem to stick out when used in conversation. Korean students have some very specific phrases they have been taught and use frequently, the most common being, upon given the prompt, “How are you?” a robotic, super-speed response of: “IAMFINETHANKYOUANDYOU,” followed by hysterical giggles. The following are some of my personal favorite phrases from students, that when used are especially touching and sweet. I think you’ll begin to see how easy it is to fall for these students.

Just now, a couple of students stood giggling behind my desk for at least two minutes before I turned around and said, “Oh, hello!” They then, giggling and holding each other’s hands for confidence said, “Oh, teacher, oh. Teacher. Teacher, could I, you, paper? Pleasemumblemumblestickynotemumble.” I listen patiently and expectantly before I laugh and respond with, “A sticky note? Of course,” as I rip off a small sticky note and hand it to one student.

“One, or two?” I rip off another and hand it to the other student. Both stand giggling, a pink sticky note now stuck on each of their hands. They look so surprised and happy. “Oh, teacher, one, oh, thank you, thank you for your kindness!” and they quickly, still giggling, still holding hands, walk away.

“Thank you for your kindness.” How sweet. That kind of phrase just melts your heart and makes you smile.

Earlier today, a student didn’t understand the instructions I gave in class, and looked at me with such a confused look that I walked over to her and asked if she understood. She shook her head, and I slowly explained what she should do. When she understood, she looked up at me, very cheerfully, and said, “Oh! Teacher! Thank you for your kindness!” Makes me laugh and melts my heart.

After all, how could you not fall for the students when they respond with a soft, super sweet, “Pardon?” upon not understanding, or greet you when you walk in the room, still, ten months later, with, “Oh! Teacher! Beautiful!” or write notes to me in their notebooks, of, “Amanda- teacher, fighting! Good luck!” or written in very large, special bubble letters at the end of a tough week for me, “Amanda teacher, are you okay? You look so tired! Cheer up! I love you!”

I honestly love these girls. It’s almost as though I have inherited six hundred younger sisters, some of them michevious trouble makers in class, caught wearing short skirts and walking with boys outside of school, others of them sweet and gentle and shy, some loud, class clowns that are fun to tease in class, others artistic, their notebooks full of sketches and drawings they did in class, their journal entries scribbled in around the drawings, completed on their own time outside of my class… and when I ask to see their uncompleted journals as they sit chatting during work time in class, they say, “Oh, teacher, I’m so sorry, but I love you.”

“I’m so sorry but I love you!” Impossible to be angry.

I feel that what is most important for these girls, the reason behind their having to write journals, is that I want them to feel comfortable with English. Language is something foreign and challenging up to the point when you are able to successfully manipulate those confusing symbols into something meaningful, something about yourself and your own, individual thoughts, something only you are thinking that you have painstakingly coded into what others can understand. When they manage to write a sentence that makes sense to me, that I can understand and respond to… that’s something cool. That’s something really unique. That’s something Korean education doesn’t do enough of, in making English something real, something more than bi- weekly intensive vocabulary tests, more than standardized essays the students must crank through, more than fill- in bubble questions that have intense consequences in their day to day life, whether it be in the public announcement of their grades, the constant shifting of classes according to test scores, or the serious and heavy burden of needing exemplary grades for University.

Think. What do you want to say? Write it. Say it. Write it again. Say it again. I will stand here and patiently wait as you try to figure out what you want to say. I don’t understand. Explain this to me. All together, all of you, help her and explain this to me. Write it down. Speak it. Practice speaking it together. Say it again. Again. Write it. You can do it. Speak it. Write it.

You did it, I’m proud of you. Cheer. Lead the whole class in a clap. Smile. Tell jokes. Be myself, a more patient and genuine version of my self than I ever knew before coming to Korea. My dear students, you really cannot know how proud I am of you.

It’s hard. I make them work hard. I have to work hard to grade their journals, harder than most foreign teachers I know, putting in extra hours on top of the extra classes I teach. But it is worth it. When they complain, “Teacher, difficult!” I make a huge heavy sigh and pretend to melt on my desk in front of the classroom… and after a long dramatic moment, I look up and smile at them, “You can do it. I know you can do it! You’re so smart!” and then they laugh and stop complaining and write.

It’s not uncommon for students to be amazed by certain parts of my physical appearance. The high bridge of my nose, my wide eyes, the color of my eyes, the dirty blonde color of my hair, generously called golden, as in, “Golden- hair teacher! Question!”, my ‘small face’, which is endlessly and continually commented on… all the way down to the color of the hair on my arms.

“Teacher! This!” As a student pinches the hair on her own arm and swoops in close to inspect the hair on my arms… “Wooooaaaa… Teacher! White!” Last week, a student was so fascinated with my arm hairs that she asked if she could have one. I, currently being in such an endearing, nostalgic state for my students, willingly obliged and held out my arm. She pinched and pulled, and I laughed and walked away.

One moment later, she gasped, “Oh! Teacher! Lost!” and I walked back to her desk and held out my arm again as she dug in her pencil pouch, pulled out a tweezers and proceeded to pluck out one arm hair and hold it out for all her nearby desk buddies to see.

“Don’t lose that one!” I told her as I continued to walk around and monitor the students’ journal writing. Another student on the opposite side of the classroom waved me over and asked what happened, to which I pinched some of my arm hair, and she nodded in a half- surprised, half- knowledgeable manner.

Curiosity and honesty.

“I’m so sorry, but I love you.”

My heart swells bigger than my chest, bigger than my self, and it takes the whole world in with this nostalgic, beautiful, bittersweet, giddy, innocent love.


Jun 23 2011

Agitating Chemicals.

A few friends of mine here in Korea have an excellent film hobby, and occasionally they allow me to play along with them. Taken with an old metal clunk of camera, an old Pentax belonging to a friend, I walked around and shot in my neighborhood. It’s fun to look at the world through the lens of a film camera. Select, focus, adjust meter, focus and refocus, click.

I developed the film, not the photos, mind you, in my chemistry buddy’s makeshift photography development studio in his bathroom. Mix chemicals, agitate solution. Timing is important, select songs with appropriate time, agitate and shake, rest, shake, rest, mix new chemicals, shake, wash, shake. Interesting stuff.

It’s nice to have friends with interesting hobbies to learn from.

Here are a few of my pictures. I’ve got another roll we’ll develop later this week, and if any are good I’ll put them up.

Textures on my school campus, Yeoju, South Korea.

Mr. Choi, with the tie on the left, is one of my favorite teachers here. He is great. To the right is the Chinese characters and history teacher. Yeoju Girls' High School, South Korea.

This street is greatly responsible for the absolute lack of silence in my apartment. Thanks, traffic. Can't wait to leave you. Yeoju, South Korea.

The windshield shop down the block from my apartment. Here is where a pack of dogs continually give me low, terrifying guttural warnings when I pass. Yeoju, South Korea..

Carved singing guy in the park near my apartment. Yeoju, South Korea.

Honeybee fluttering near the honeysuckle tree, Yeoju, South Korea.

Pavilion on top of the hill near my apartment. To one side is the South Han River, to the opposite side is the cityscape buried in mountains. Yeoju, South Korea.


Jun 20 2011

American Impressions 1502

Lesson warmup:

Write what you have heard about American High School Life.

Student 1502:

1. Very Free

2. Dance with men! Every year dance party

3. Big ground playing US soccer (football)

4. Men sweat and Adam’s Apple

Student 1502 pen pal letter:

“Dear American pen pal friend.

Hello! American pen pal friend! How about your school life? Korean school life is very hard, bad, sad, upset, angry and cry! But little fun. Korean school have school uniform. Very comfortable. Korean school finish late. For dinner and night self study 2 hour. Very sad. American school students have a driving licence? It’s wonderful! My dream is have a driving licence. You American school life what? Fun? Boring? I wonder your school life. Bye bye.”


Jun 10 2011

A Weekend in Jeollanam-do

Letting pictures speak louder than words: my weekend in review.

Hyang Temple at Sunrise on Turtle Island, Jeollanam-do, South Korea

Breakfast after the 6am hike: seafood fermented bean curd soup. My favorite. Amazing. Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boats at Yeosu Harbor, Jeollnam-do, South Korea.

Geomundo Island, a two hour boat ride from Yeosu: mid-morning hike to the lighthouse. Jeollnam-do, South Korea.

Fresh fish breakfast after our morning hike on Geomundo Island, Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Nangan Folk Village- Traditional houses where we slept one night. Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boseong Tea Fields, Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boseong Tea Fields, Jeollanam-do, South Korea..

Green tea infused with particles of gold. Jeollnam-do, South Korea.


Jun 3 2011

Mixed Signals: Stomach, meet Brain.

For the past few weeks in Korea, I have been insatiably hungry. I wake up hungry, I go to sleep hungry, throughout the day I feel a hunger digging inside of me.

That’s not to say I haven’t been eating. I eat regularly. Every day at school I stuff myself with rice, kimchi, spicy vegetables, soup, and some odd meat dish at lunch. Fairly often, I go out with friends for dinner, and we eat galbi (barbequed ribs), or samgaetang (chicken ginseng soup) or nangmyeon (iced noodles) or bibimbap (rice and fresh vegetables and spicy sauce, mixed) or samgyeupsal (pork, think really thick slabs of bacon) or occasionally we’ll get pizza (always with corn on it… why, Korea? Why the corn on pizza?)…. and I fill myself. In Korea, the method is generally eat until stuffed, and yet… I still feel hungry.

Granted, my meals at home are fairly piecemeal and undesirable, odd snacks, rice and dried seaweed, bowls of ramen, hard boiled eggs, cookies, bananas, milk…. but still, this hunger is there.

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s quieter than hunger. It’s as though my torso has been filled with a soft resonant ache that reminds me of hunger. It’s almost as though my hunger receptors had been replaced by desire receptors, and my system is confused.

I’ll admit it, I’ve been having some cravings lately. Take, for instance, a grilled turkey sandwich, like the ones from Panera. The mere thought of it has me drooling.

Grilled. Turkey. Sandwich. Commence drool.

I have vivid daydreams about food. Sometimes, during lunch, as I’m arranging a pile of spicy sweet bean sprouts on top of my rice, I daydream about taking a bite of a turkey sandwich, the alfalfa sprouts squishing into the guacamole, the thick center of grilled turkey and hot melted cheese squishing between my teeth… and as my chopsticks reach for a bite of kimchi, I imagine red slices of tomato sliding out from the sandwich as I taste that sweet, seedy inside mixing with that earthy bread flavor… and as I hold one chopstick steady and pull the other along the spine to separate the meaty portion of my breaded fish from the stomach cross section portion, I imagine lasagna, hot from the oven, layers and layers of melted cheese, fresh parmesan, goopy unsweetened tomato sauce….

and as I wrap up my meal, scoop the uneaten spine and somach of the fish in with the last few pieces of turnip kimchi I didn’t finish, I feel insatiably hungry.

I can’t describe it. I’m hungry, in so many ways I can’t describe, in a manner I’ve vaguely felt before, but never for so long, and never so strong as this.

I daydream of basil omelets, french toast, blueberry flaxseed oatmeal pancakes, oatmeal with sliced apples, bananas and cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top, Malt-O-Meal with a dash of brown sugar and sweet cream, thick slabs of homemade wheat bread, hot from the oven with a dab of butter melting on top, cheesy scrambled eggs on the side, fresh blackberry jelly from the Famer’s Market, a pot of fresh coffee on the countertop, summer breezes through the window, the Current drifting lazily on the radio…

Every day I eat, but…. oh brother, how I hunger.


May 24 2011

Journal Entry 1323: English

“I think about English is like a maze
because it is confusing but not.
good… or bad I’m very confusing… hahaha : (
so, I think about English maze.
but, I love English
so, more and more love English!!”

From my first grade student, Lee Su-hee, English name Grace.
Very honest and unique response on her opinion of English.


May 24 2011

Journal Entry 1322: Introduce Yourself

“Dear, new friend.

Hello, I Glad meet you!

Umm… You don’t know me. So I introduce myself of face & body.

I have a little mole under my nose.
It is a complex. but my mother say “it comes for luck.”
I think “oh, I love it very much.”

I have black hair, short hair.
I wish long hair and more black hair.

oh, I have glasses. maybe big glasses!

my friends say “You charm is legs!”
Yes. My legs turn on the charm.

That’s it for now. I waiting you letter!
good bye! 🙂

From,
Sophia”

From one of my first grade students, Korean name Lee So-Jin.


May 13 2011

Journal Excerpt 1531: Journal One

“My name is HyeBin Lee.
I hope character very very kind.
My favorite singer TVXQ.
My dream is to be a doctor but people say, “You can’t do it.”
Ha…ha… I will be a doctor!!!
I love to play the piano.
It makes my soul clean.”

From one of my first grade high school students.


May 12 2011

Buddha’s Birthday: Insadong

I spent the weekend with my Korean friend, Sojung, and she let me stay the weekend in her apartment. We started the evening on Friday by feasting freely at her mother’s ddukbokki stand, after which we biked around a quiet park. We parked the bikes and sat on a park bench to drink one beer while listening to the frogs’ voices echo loudly through a drainage pipe. After some great conversation with each other, we biked happily back to her apartment.

The next night, after a rather frantic night in which I missed my bus home, we took advantage of another evening together and ate green tea and choco ice cream, watched an old Marilyn Monroe movie, “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes”, and happily accepted a plate of cold spicy noodles around 2 am when her mom came home and joined us.

After my weekend with Sojung, I went on Sunday to Insadong, the neighborhood of Seoul most famous for art and traditional teahouses. Tuesday, May 10th is Buddha’s Birthday, and Insadong is where the biggest celebrations take place.

What I found was an incredibly happy day, light, full of sunshine, beautifully diverse with people from all over Asia, including, off the top of my head, Thailand, Cambodia, China, Vietnam, Tibet, Nepal, Laos, and on and on. Everyone had a smile on their face, there were lotus lanterns all around, bubbles, incense, music and traditional costumes.

It was really something lovely to see, so many colors and smells.

Concrete Jungles of Korea, Dongbae, South Korea

Folding paper into lotus lanterns, Insadong, South Korea.

Korean Buddhist Monks in traditional clothes, Insadong, South Korea.

Bubbles and traditional Korean drummers, Insadong, South Korea.

Small Korean butterfly child, Insadong, South Korea.

Painting station, Insadong, South Korea.

Line of lanterns, Insadong, South Korea.


May 9 2011

Stop watch, watch notch.

My watch broke and even after I flick it hard on the back of its face, the most it will do is click the second hand forward, backward, forward, backward.

I’ve never seen a clock click one second over and over and over again, refusing to acknowledge passing time. It just moves, one second at a time, forward, backward, time going nowhere, just forward, backward, forward, backward.

Nowhere to go but here.

Maybe it’s a sign that I need to shift my attention from the blur of the past as it slides slowly into the blur of the future, re-calibrate my system to slide sharply into focus on the present. Time is short and moves so quickly. I won’t be in Korea forever, and someday I’m really gonna miss it.

Or maybe it’s just a sign that I shouldn’t have bought a vintage watch.