For ever and for ever when I move

I love this springtime weather, the air thick and humid, alive with the blossoms on the trees, the smell of the outdoors drifting softly in through the windows, the soft and seemingly distant sound of the birds as they chirp, a spirited chorus in a world still free, the green leaves of the freshly budded trees vibrant and lush against the dark hues of the sky.

Inside the classroom, the tan of the students’ uniforms is mild against the soft wood color of the desks, forty black heads of hair, over half in bangs, thick big lenses the mode of style, orderly arranged and seated in eight rows of five desks that obediently face the front.

Due to a schedule change, this is the second time I teach this class today, and consequently my entrance was calm, the students a little more tired than the morning, the air warm and comfortable enough to softly slip into sleep.

I stand in the front as their heads are bent over crossword puzzles, occasionally they look up thoughtfully, make eye contact with me and hold it for a moment before the corner of my mouth smiles and they giggle and look away.

As I walk around the room, the students working at their journals, the breeze from the window pulls at my senses. Conversation rises and falls around the room, there is a quiet echo of the math teacher’s voice from the hallway, the doors at the front and back of the classroom are both open, the room is peaceful and calm, a secluded space with full awareness of the school activity down the hall and the tops of the trees in the world outside the third floor windows.

The spring breeze is incredibly moving to me. It is fragrant, thick, full of memory, heavy with longing, with the present, with the past, of Taiwan, of California, of greenhouses tucked warmly away in cold spring days of the Midwest, of puddle jumping in the streets as the rain beats down on our heads, laughter and study and friendship and family, so full of new life, peaceful and warm, everything connected, we are old and we are young and this is life: a spring breeze that softly passes through the classroom window.

Flowers and people.

Cherry Blossoms in South Korea.

Korean grandfather, Yeoju, South Korea.

Little pink blossoms, Yeoju, South Korea.

Basket bike and a sunny day, Yeouido, South Korea.

Magnolia flowers, Yeoju, South Korea.

Jinhae Cherry blossom festival, South Korea.

I tell you, not understanding the language of the country you’re in can play with your emotions like nothing else. For example, let’s take a simple scenario: volleyball.

Say you’re playing a game of volleyball with your fellow teachers. Actually, for unbeknownst reasons, you’ve started playing volleyball every single day. Sometimes, you play twice a day. Occasionally, they make you serve for an hour straight, so your wrist varies between bruised, swollen, painful, or after the weekend’s rest, back to normal.

You try to keep up your spirits. You wish somebody would tell you the reasoning behind the sudden vigorous devotion to the game of volleyball. You continue to go to practice, even though your notification of practice usually goes something like this:

(Time: roughly anywhere between 8am and 2pm. Scene: You are sitting at your desk, lesson planning. Or maybe you’re walking to a lesson. Or maybe you’re packing up your books at 4:55, ready to go home for the day.)

“Excuse me, Amanda.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, today… (volleyball hand motion) today… six o’clock… (hand motion numbers) game.”

“Volleyball, today? Again?”

“Yes, today.”

“But… we played volleyball yesterday. And the day before that.”

“Yes. But you have to go today.”

“But I have plans tonight.”

“I’m sorry, you must go. Principal says you have to be there.”

So you go. And turns out, it’s a game! So you get a little excited, okay, this can be fun. I mean, you’re here, you’re in Korea, you’re the only white person for miles around, you’re playing with a bunch of teachers as they hoo- and haa- and scream, “Fighting!” and “Powaa'” and “TEAM A TEAM A” and “OOUUUUUTAAA'” and it’s entertaining, right? Sieze the day. Look at the bright side. If you have to be here, you have to be here. Try all that positive brainwashing stuff until you decide you’re going to have a good time. Just take it for what it’s worth and go home afterwards.

But then you start to play.

The Principal is in the back row, the PE Teacher is in the center, and the other girl on the team is shoved in the back corner where she can serve and be invisible. You were put in the back corner, but then switched with this other teacher who is not as good as you. There is a really bashful player in front of you, but he never really gets a chance to touch the ball because the PE Teacher is a ball hog who runs all around the court, stealing people’s glory and putting the ball in the middle where the front- center guy will hit it up before the PE Teacher can spike it down to the other court.

This is pretty much how it goes every time. PE Teacher steals it, Principal screams in a high voice, front- center guy batts it into the air, PE Teacher spikes it. You’re irritated but you go along with the show.

However, scenario change. The ball enters your area and you start to hit it but the PE Teacher is running at you, you stand your ground and are about to hit it when he runs into you, you both biff it and the ball is lost. The Principal starts screaming at you, pointing and yelling, the same thing over and over, angry at you for messing up the play. All you want to do is defend yourself, or tell her to back off, or tell the PE Teacher to quit being such a ball hog, but you can’t.

You just have to listen to this woman scream at you in a foreign tongue, which is terrifying, and then continue to play this stupid game until it’s over.

The game goes from fun and entertaining, to a nightmare. You’re on the brink of tears. Everyone is screaming words you can’t understand and everything sounds angry and the whistle is never ending and you feel frazzled and irritated and angry.

The whistles go and you severly warn yourself that you are not to cry during this game, and it goes and goes and goes.

However, for no matter how bad it gets, you still have Moon: the best, most amazing, most happy and excited office administrator ever, who gives you a salute in the hallway every time he sees you, who cheers the loudest and for every point the team makes, he jumps up on his feet, throws his arms in the air and shouts “OOOHHHHH!!!!!” at the top of his lungs.

You decide that you’ll continue to play, for Moon.

***

What makes it all worse is that I don’t like volleyball. Really, I don’t. Unless I’m on a beach or sand court, drinking a delicious IPA and possibly running back and forth from the food table to the court, summer sun and the boombox beating, enjoying time with friends, joking and laughing, what’s the point of volleyball? Unless it’s a game where you don’t care who wins or loses, because everyone will go home happy either way, what is the point!?

I like soccer. But my Principal doesn’t believe that we, the teachers, should have the liberty to play soccer: instead, we have to play volleyball, under her severe direction, every single day. Apparently when she’s there screaming at us, we won’t feel we have the liberty to talk about her behind her back.

Furthermore, despite our having a game this afternoon, which I angrily walked out of afterwards, Mr. Choi sprinted after me to say, “Amanda, where are you going?”

“Mr. Choi, I’m going to my desk.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Well, the Principal wants me to tell you that we have volleyball practice tonight.”

“But… Mr. Choi… we just finished a game.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. 6pm tonight. You have to be there.”

Volleyball, you have become my mortal enemy.

Well, I reckon it’s time for a new post.

Things have been really crazy lately. We’ve got midterms next week and I had to prepare questions for those. I had extra classes start last Friday, and had to impromptu provide full lesson plans for those. And then, to put the icing on the busy school cake, or so I thought at the time, I had to prepare for an open class within one week.

An open class is when you open up your classroom, line the back of the room with chairs to be filled by the other teachers in your department and by the Principal, provide very solid and foolproof lesson plans, spend evey hour of free time the week before planning for the perfect lesson that demonstrates your incredible ability to introduce a topic, flawlessly exhibit practice and student understanding, and conclude with meaningful interaction and supplementary material after the lesson.

The story continues, but I think we’ll end it here.

I spent last weekend on a tour trip down to Tongyoung, proceeded by a seven-hour hike around the island of Saryang-do. The hike was lovely, intense, intimidating, the full day of bus rides back to Seoul on Sunday was awful.

A handful of pictures from the weekend.

Waiting for the sun to rise at Yi Soon Shin Admiral Park, Tongyeong, South Korea.

Sun rise at Yi Soon Shin Admiral Park, Tongyeong, South Korea.

One of the peaks on Saryang-do, a small island off the coast of Tongyeong, South Korea.

Halfway through while we're thinking that we're almost done, hiking the island of Saryang-do, South Korea...

Picnic at the top, delicious. Hiking Saryang-do, South Korea

Scattered purple blossoms suggest that Spring is on its way.... Saryang-do, South Korea

The colors of all the seasons together, at one of the peaks on Saryang-do, South Korea.

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.”