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I have an awesome girlfriend.
My student
I wanted to blog this before I forgot all the weird little details.
So I have this student. He roams around the school, and my class, looking perpetually pissed off. His eyebrows are furrowed, he doesn't smile, he hates talking to the other students. His hair is buzzed-short. He never takes his coat off in class, and he doesn't participate (he didn't even want to go trick-or-treating, so my coteacher sat in the classroom with him).
The other teachers talk about him as a problem student. The other students avoid him.
But he's a good kid. He loves to come into the classroom when I'm lesson planning, and listen to my mp3 player. He tries to fit the wrap-around earphone on the wrong ear, every day, stands around and pokes at my player for 10-15 seconds, and then runs off.
Yesterday, he came in with another one of my students. I showed them my new player, and he grabbed the earphones off my desk and slapped them onto the wrong ears. The song turned over from the indie music it was playing, and into Take the Power Back by Rage Against the Machines (courtesy of KP). The kid stopped. His head started bobbing, little hands went up around the earphones, and he vibed until his friend got bored and pulled him away.
Today, he came in alone. He pulled the headphones on, and I showed him how to change songs (yay good UI), and off he went. He listened to The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars, and I showed him where the player displayed the title and artist; he practiced writing it on the board.
It's just so terminally stupid how this kid is labeled a 'bad' kid by the other teachers and the other students. He's not bad. He's an audiophile.
So I have this student. He roams around the school, and my class, looking perpetually pissed off. His eyebrows are furrowed, he doesn't smile, he hates talking to the other students. His hair is buzzed-short. He never takes his coat off in class, and he doesn't participate (he didn't even want to go trick-or-treating, so my coteacher sat in the classroom with him).
The other teachers talk about him as a problem student. The other students avoid him.
But he's a good kid. He loves to come into the classroom when I'm lesson planning, and listen to my mp3 player. He tries to fit the wrap-around earphone on the wrong ear, every day, stands around and pokes at my player for 10-15 seconds, and then runs off.
Yesterday, he came in with another one of my students. I showed them my new player, and he grabbed the earphones off my desk and slapped them onto the wrong ears. The song turned over from the indie music it was playing, and into Take the Power Back by Rage Against the Machines (courtesy of KP). The kid stopped. His head started bobbing, little hands went up around the earphones, and he vibed until his friend got bored and pulled him away.
Today, he came in alone. He pulled the headphones on, and I showed him how to change songs (yay good UI), and off he went. He listened to The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars, and I showed him where the player displayed the title and artist; he practiced writing it on the board.
It's just so terminally stupid how this kid is labeled a 'bad' kid by the other teachers and the other students. He's not bad. He's an audiophile.
Highlights aka I'm A Bearded White Guy in South Korea-- FEAR ME, PUNY MORTALS
Here are some things that have happened to me recently:
While walking into Seogwipo, I passed by a gaggle of middle school-to-early high school girls. I had my head down and was thinking, as you do, so at first, I didn't really notice how tightly they clung to each other.
Then, one of them-- the one in the middle with the sky blue Flu Paranoia mask said, "Hi!" Such bravado! Such boldness! She dares to speak to the bearded white guy, the breather of fire and the consumer of souls!
Her friends screamed, and clung harder. The one closest to me started slapping her shoulder, and screaming something-- "Why would you do that? I can't believe you did that! You're crazy, Soo Eun! You're crazy!" etc. etc, I imagine.
So, I said, "Hi there!" and their screams got louder.
As soon as we passed each other, her friends started pushing Fearless sky blue Flu Paranoia masked girl down the street (her, being fearless, leaned back, willing to remain in my presence a little longer).
#
About half (no hyperbole there. HALF) the people living in rural Seogwipo own tangerine groves. At school the other day, a couple of the teachers said, "Orangee?"
"Oh, no. Someone already gave me 3 of them," I say, and then I round the corner.
There are two massive crates of tangerines, stacked on top of each other.
I don't think you understand when I say massive crates. I mean MASSIVE. 4 feet x 2 feet x 1.5 feet massive. Two of them. Completely full.
My shoulder ached when I got home, from where the strap cut in.
#
I ate 23 tangerines the next day. The day after that, I had horrible acid in the back of my throat, all day long.
But it was so good while it lasted!
#
I want to do bobbing for apples with my students.
I bought 2 decently sized basins (as I am not sure the school has any clean enough to eat out of, of that size), and a whole bunch of apples.
This is just to say-- APPLES ARE DAMNED EXPENSIVE HERE.
Not that I won't be reimbursed by my school, but STILL.
#
There's an old farmer-man who drives a tractor at a crawl through the streets of my town. This evening, as I was going out to get plastic bags (for the clothes-protecting during the apple-dunking), and I saw him drive by.
In the back of the tractor-- in the trailer portion-- there were about 7 other old people, all scowling and looking generally fed up with the world.
Ahh yes! The Jungmun Disapproving Old People harvest! It comes but once a year!
#
The man who runs (and perhaps owns?) Espresso and Yogurt (the best Jungmun coffee shop) is very nice. His lattes are pretty damn good, and the chairs are comfortable.
Alas, I've gotten into this funk where I can't write in my apartment-- only when I'm elsewhere. Needless to say, I've been drinking a lot of lattes in comfortable chairs, around nice men.
There are worse restrictions on when/where I can write...
#
I'm trying to figure out a way to play a Zombie-tag variant with my students (FOR HALLOWEEN... WHAT!! It's THEMATIC and thus, APPROPRIATE).
#
Throat aches in that "You're gonna be sick in a weekish" way. Voice may be going away. I may be Very Sick for the language festival (where I am meant to be serving chili).
Which will be bad...
#
I was trying to find the post office in Jungmun, and had NO IDEA where it was. So I stopped into a bank.
The teller I talked to spoke no English (doh). I tried to mimic mailing a letter. I had a sheet of paper, which I folded in 3. I stuffed an imaginary envelope. I licked said imaginary envelope, and put it in an imaginary mailbox. The woman looked at me like I was a moron.
Gah...
That's okay-- the bank teller next to her, looked at her as if she were a moron for not understanding, and after a minute of moron-glances, Bank Teller 2 said, "Post office?" and pointed the way out to me.
So, I went to the post office, and was in the process of mailing my things, when Bank Teller 2 walks in, carrying my phone.
I had left it there, and he had chased me down the street to give it back.
This is in no way an isolated incident-- Koreans are very staggeringly nice people when they're not cowering in fear from my awesome bearded Caucasian might.
#
Another story of Korea's awesomely helpful people/policies.
So I went in to the local pharmacist (strike that, one of the 10 local pharmacists). The guy there is very kind, and speaks English fairly well to boot.
There's a basket of the tangerines out, free to take, which is nice.
As I pay for my medication, the guy says, "Drink?"
I, thinking he means, 'You should take these pills with something to drink, to make swallowing their giant form possible' say, "Yes."
He turns round to the little gas station fridge behind him, and flips back with a two-shot bottle of Concentrated Vitamin Beverage, and hands it to me free of charge.
Which is very cool-- the pharmacies here don't just get you what you pay for, and send you on your way. They see their jobs as keeping people healthy. So they try to.
I dig it.
While walking into Seogwipo, I passed by a gaggle of middle school-to-early high school girls. I had my head down and was thinking, as you do, so at first, I didn't really notice how tightly they clung to each other.
Then, one of them-- the one in the middle with the sky blue Flu Paranoia mask said, "Hi!" Such bravado! Such boldness! She dares to speak to the bearded white guy, the breather of fire and the consumer of souls!
Her friends screamed, and clung harder. The one closest to me started slapping her shoulder, and screaming something-- "Why would you do that? I can't believe you did that! You're crazy, Soo Eun! You're crazy!" etc. etc, I imagine.
So, I said, "Hi there!" and their screams got louder.
As soon as we passed each other, her friends started pushing Fearless sky blue Flu Paranoia masked girl down the street (her, being fearless, leaned back, willing to remain in my presence a little longer).
#
About half (no hyperbole there. HALF) the people living in rural Seogwipo own tangerine groves. At school the other day, a couple of the teachers said, "Orangee?"
"Oh, no. Someone already gave me 3 of them," I say, and then I round the corner.
There are two massive crates of tangerines, stacked on top of each other.
I don't think you understand when I say massive crates. I mean MASSIVE. 4 feet x 2 feet x 1.5 feet massive. Two of them. Completely full.
My shoulder ached when I got home, from where the strap cut in.
#
I ate 23 tangerines the next day. The day after that, I had horrible acid in the back of my throat, all day long.
But it was so good while it lasted!
#
I want to do bobbing for apples with my students.
I bought 2 decently sized basins (as I am not sure the school has any clean enough to eat out of, of that size), and a whole bunch of apples.
This is just to say-- APPLES ARE DAMNED EXPENSIVE HERE.
Not that I won't be reimbursed by my school, but STILL.
#
There's an old farmer-man who drives a tractor at a crawl through the streets of my town. This evening, as I was going out to get plastic bags (for the clothes-protecting during the apple-dunking), and I saw him drive by.
In the back of the tractor-- in the trailer portion-- there were about 7 other old people, all scowling and looking generally fed up with the world.
Ahh yes! The Jungmun Disapproving Old People harvest! It comes but once a year!
#
The man who runs (and perhaps owns?) Espresso and Yogurt (the best Jungmun coffee shop) is very nice. His lattes are pretty damn good, and the chairs are comfortable.
Alas, I've gotten into this funk where I can't write in my apartment-- only when I'm elsewhere. Needless to say, I've been drinking a lot of lattes in comfortable chairs, around nice men.
There are worse restrictions on when/where I can write...
#
I'm trying to figure out a way to play a Zombie-tag variant with my students (FOR HALLOWEEN... WHAT!! It's THEMATIC and thus, APPROPRIATE).
#
Throat aches in that "You're gonna be sick in a weekish" way. Voice may be going away. I may be Very Sick for the language festival (where I am meant to be serving chili).
Which will be bad...
#
I was trying to find the post office in Jungmun, and had NO IDEA where it was. So I stopped into a bank.
The teller I talked to spoke no English (doh). I tried to mimic mailing a letter. I had a sheet of paper, which I folded in 3. I stuffed an imaginary envelope. I licked said imaginary envelope, and put it in an imaginary mailbox. The woman looked at me like I was a moron.
Gah...
That's okay-- the bank teller next to her, looked at her as if she were a moron for not understanding, and after a minute of moron-glances, Bank Teller 2 said, "Post office?" and pointed the way out to me.
So, I went to the post office, and was in the process of mailing my things, when Bank Teller 2 walks in, carrying my phone.
I had left it there, and he had chased me down the street to give it back.
This is in no way an isolated incident-- Koreans are very staggeringly nice people when they're not cowering in fear from my awesome bearded Caucasian might.
#
Another story of Korea's awesomely helpful people/policies.
So I went in to the local pharmacist (strike that, one of the 10 local pharmacists). The guy there is very kind, and speaks English fairly well to boot.
There's a basket of the tangerines out, free to take, which is nice.
As I pay for my medication, the guy says, "Drink?"
I, thinking he means, 'You should take these pills with something to drink, to make swallowing their giant form possible' say, "Yes."
He turns round to the little gas station fridge behind him, and flips back with a two-shot bottle of Concentrated Vitamin Beverage, and hands it to me free of charge.
Which is very cool-- the pharmacies here don't just get you what you pay for, and send you on your way. They see their jobs as keeping people healthy. So they try to.
I dig it.
Mayor Forever!
So, on Thursday, I have to miss teaching my class because of a work-related mandatory meeting on the other side of the island. The meeting is to plan for a Language and Culture Festival next Saturday.
My coteacher is supposed to go to the meeting too, so she doesn't have to cover the class by herself (like she will do on Friday, when Jei, Tom, and myself fly to Seoul. She, however, won't be able to attend the language festival, so I said,
"You could just play hookey."
"Play hookey?" She asked.
"Do you know what playing hookey is? Oh man! Playing hookey has a long and illustrious career in American culture. It's what we do," I said. I started to write 'Play Hookey' on the board.
"Ah! Aah! Play Hookey! Yes, I know this!" Then a pause as the thought turned over in her mind. "You mean skip? I could skip?"
I shrugged. "Sure, why not? You can't go to the festival anyway."
What followed, I can only describe as a laugh of pure revelation and joy. It was more than a little goofy, and given the circumstances, adorable. It came out of her like, "Ahoohoohohaha!"
It is very strange to me, that skipping out on a meaningless activity could be seen as a novel idea. Even stranger that I think she sees it as a rebel activity. A harmless rebellion, like dying your hair purple at age 12 or listening to rap music in the 90s-- trivial in its risk, and yet bold and exciting.
It reminded me--indulge this nerdiness for a moment-- of when my parents and I had a theoretical discussion on the corruption of Hobbits by The One Ring (Yes, this post got that nerdy that fast-- you've met me before. You should have seen this coming).
"The One Ring could have corrupted any of the Hobbits, but they could only have been as powerful as their wisdom allowed them to be," my Dad said.
"Why? That doesn't make sense," I'd said.
"Look," my mom entered the conversation, strange in that she rarely indulges in arguments of this genre. "Sure, they would have been corrupted, but if all a Hobbit knows is Hobbiton, then he or she would think, 'You mean, with this ring, I can have unlimited power? You mean like... I can be Mayor? FOREVER?!'"
I know someone who got teargassed and peppersprayed when she charged a blockade in DC, during an anti-war protest. My coteacher gets excited over not attending a meeting that has no bearing on her.
Mayor forever indeed!
My coteacher is supposed to go to the meeting too, so she doesn't have to cover the class by herself (like she will do on Friday, when Jei, Tom, and myself fly to Seoul. She, however, won't be able to attend the language festival, so I said,
"You could just play hookey."
"Play hookey?" She asked.
"Do you know what playing hookey is? Oh man! Playing hookey has a long and illustrious career in American culture. It's what we do," I said. I started to write 'Play Hookey' on the board.
"Ah! Aah! Play Hookey! Yes, I know this!" Then a pause as the thought turned over in her mind. "You mean skip? I could skip?"
I shrugged. "Sure, why not? You can't go to the festival anyway."
What followed, I can only describe as a laugh of pure revelation and joy. It was more than a little goofy, and given the circumstances, adorable. It came out of her like, "Ahoohoohohaha!"
It is very strange to me, that skipping out on a meaningless activity could be seen as a novel idea. Even stranger that I think she sees it as a rebel activity. A harmless rebellion, like dying your hair purple at age 12 or listening to rap music in the 90s-- trivial in its risk, and yet bold and exciting.
It reminded me--indulge this nerdiness for a moment-- of when my parents and I had a theoretical discussion on the corruption of Hobbits by The One Ring (Yes, this post got that nerdy that fast-- you've met me before. You should have seen this coming).
"The One Ring could have corrupted any of the Hobbits, but they could only have been as powerful as their wisdom allowed them to be," my Dad said.
"Why? That doesn't make sense," I'd said.
"Look," my mom entered the conversation, strange in that she rarely indulges in arguments of this genre. "Sure, they would have been corrupted, but if all a Hobbit knows is Hobbiton, then he or she would think, 'You mean, with this ring, I can have unlimited power? You mean like... I can be Mayor? FOREVER?!'"
I know someone who got teargassed and peppersprayed when she charged a blockade in DC, during an anti-war protest. My coteacher gets excited over not attending a meeting that has no bearing on her.
Mayor forever indeed!
The following is simulcast on Livejournal and Blogger.
Brought to you by Copy and Paste.
Copy and Paste: Making Computers Cool since 1968.
Writing time today was cool. We hung out in the neato privately owned (being non-chain is a big deal here for cafes) coffee shop in my town. The music I don't dig so much, but the guy is Started a new project in a completely different style than I normally operate in, which is cool. Hoping to finish it tonight, actually.
Afterwards, Jei and I went to Mangdu Heaven. I got Bulgogi soup (which was awesome-- I will be experiencing it again upon our next visit to Mangdu heaven (mangdu being 'dumpling', though I'm not sure I'm transliterating it right). Jei just got massive amounts of mangdu, which was also a very good choice.
Hung out with Jei, waiting for the bus, then walked home.
On the way home, this happened:
Walking across the street where The Bar (a very chill expat hangout) and the PCBang where I lived for my first few weeks are, a 40 year old man (exact age) with a stark white shirt and glasses came running across the street, grinning with his hand held high.
"Hello! Hello!" he said, gripping my hand and shaking warmly, with a bow.
"Anyonghaseio," I said and bowed back.
Still shaking my hand, he gently held my forearm with his other hand, and guided me backwards to the edge of the street.
"Have you heard Jesus Christ? Heard, Jesus Christ?" He echoed his words, as if trying to if he'd pronounced them correctly.
"Yes. I've heard of Jesus Christ. He and I have the same birthday." Which, of course isn't true, but whatever. He was a weird guy on the street-- I don't think specifics of changed-calenders really matter to the conversation.
"Birthday?"
"Yes. December 25th? Christmas?"
"Christmas..? Ah! Christmas!"
"Yeah."
"Have you heard Jesus Christ?"
"Yes."
"You believe-- you believe-- go to heaven. You no believe-- no believe-- you go... You go to hell."
Now, I'm not the sort of guy to blow off a good theology discussion, or run away because the guy's fundamentalism (who actually wasn't drunk, believe it or not) puts me off. I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'll play ball.
So I said, "Tell me. Are things good because God says they're good, or are things good, and God just follows the rules?"
I guess no one had ever brought the Euthyphro dilemma to a streetside preaching. Especially not in English.
"No. Earlier. Earlier, there was Adam and Eve. Adam sin? He sin. Then, the bad."
Doh. Philosophical dilemma, meet language barrier. Language barrier? Philosophical dilemma.
"That's not what I... Okay," I said.
"How old? How old are you?"
"I am 24."
"Ohhh! 24! American age?"
"No. Korean Age."
"Ah! I ammm... 40. I am 40. In America? 39."
"Nice."
It occurred to me, at this moment, that he had positioned me to be facing a rather specific direction. Not that I don't trust strange 40 year old men who accost me in the middle of the night, but... I pulled my bag round to the front of me, dropped my iPod (which is ancient and broken in 4 different ways, any one of which would have most people replace it) into a zippered compartment, zipped it shut, and put my hands in my pockets.
"So you? What is your name?"
"My name is Christian."
Hey, if he can't find the one white guy in Jungmun...
"You... Oh! Your name is Christian?"
"Yes."
"Okay! Okay! I believe in Jesus! And you believe in Jesus! And we go to heaven!"
"Um. Uh huh."
And with that, he shook my hand again, and tottered away.
So... THAT was weird.
(and no, I didn't have anything stolen. Which is cool too).
Brought to you by Copy and Paste.
Copy and Paste: Making Computers Cool since 1968.
Writing time today was cool. We hung out in the neato privately owned (being non-chain is a big deal here for cafes) coffee shop in my town. The music I don't dig so much, but the guy is Started a new project in a completely different style than I normally operate in, which is cool. Hoping to finish it tonight, actually.
Afterwards, Jei and I went to Mangdu Heaven. I got Bulgogi soup (which was awesome-- I will be experiencing it again upon our next visit to Mangdu heaven (mangdu being 'dumpling', though I'm not sure I'm transliterating it right). Jei just got massive amounts of mangdu, which was also a very good choice.
Hung out with Jei, waiting for the bus, then walked home.
On the way home, this happened:
Walking across the street where The Bar (a very chill expat hangout) and the PCBang where I lived for my first few weeks are, a 40 year old man (exact age) with a stark white shirt and glasses came running across the street, grinning with his hand held high.
"Hello! Hello!" he said, gripping my hand and shaking warmly, with a bow.
"Anyonghaseio," I said and bowed back.
Still shaking my hand, he gently held my forearm with his other hand, and guided me backwards to the edge of the street.
"Have you heard Jesus Christ? Heard, Jesus Christ?" He echoed his words, as if trying to if he'd pronounced them correctly.
"Yes. I've heard of Jesus Christ. He and I have the same birthday." Which, of course isn't true, but whatever. He was a weird guy on the street-- I don't think specifics of changed-calenders really matter to the conversation.
"Birthday?"
"Yes. December 25th? Christmas?"
"Christmas..? Ah! Christmas!"
"Yeah."
"Have you heard Jesus Christ?"
"Yes."
"You believe-- you believe-- go to heaven. You no believe-- no believe-- you go... You go to hell."
Now, I'm not the sort of guy to blow off a good theology discussion, or run away because the guy's fundamentalism (who actually wasn't drunk, believe it or not) puts me off. I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'll play ball.
So I said, "Tell me. Are things good because God says they're good, or are things good, and God just follows the rules?"
I guess no one had ever brought the Euthyphro dilemma to a streetside preaching. Especially not in English.
"No. Earlier. Earlier, there was Adam and Eve. Adam sin? He sin. Then, the bad."
Doh. Philosophical dilemma, meet language barrier. Language barrier? Philosophical dilemma.
"That's not what I... Okay," I said.
"How old? How old are you?"
"I am 24."
"Ohhh! 24! American age?"
"No. Korean Age."
"Ah! I ammm... 40. I am 40. In America? 39."
"Nice."
It occurred to me, at this moment, that he had positioned me to be facing a rather specific direction. Not that I don't trust strange 40 year old men who accost me in the middle of the night, but... I pulled my bag round to the front of me, dropped my iPod (which is ancient and broken in 4 different ways, any one of which would have most people replace it) into a zippered compartment, zipped it shut, and put my hands in my pockets.
"So you? What is your name?"
"My name is Christian."
Hey, if he can't find the one white guy in Jungmun...
"You... Oh! Your name is Christian?"
"Yes."
"Okay! Okay! I believe in Jesus! And you believe in Jesus! And we go to heaven!"
"Um. Uh huh."
And with that, he shook my hand again, and tottered away.
So... THAT was weird.
(and no, I didn't have anything stolen. Which is cool too).
