A Teacher's Diary

I have not been very present on this blog, but I've written quite a bit about my life as a teacher elsewhere.  I've put together some snippets of my experience as a middle school teacher in Ulsan.  I am sorely in need of a break but I'm very content to be working with teenagers.  I'm rarely bored!

September

That awkward moment when you hear a group of 14-year-old boys standing outside of your office rehearsing their English conversations with you, and the vocabulary includes "Hello, I love you, teacher..."

Just to prove that Korean students can be as naughty as children anywhere else: During a particularly terrible class session I had to write "NO HITTING" on the white board. I left it up for the rest of the afternoon. After my cleaners left the classroom upon dismissal, I found the "NO" had been erased and replaced with "Yes," so my board stated "Yes HITTING."  In spite of their talent at being pains in my ass, I love those little monsters.

October

Today I learned an important lesson: that I am not above bribery, and neither are my students. I brought candy as an incentive for participation, and I soon had students literally standing on their desks, holding up signs saying: "Teacher I don't have candy. You are beautiful woman. Please choose me. I love you" and "You are pretty girl. I'm Jeff. Choose me please" and "I love you. I'm Billy. You are beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful girl."

Yes, they were sucking up, but I'm a sucker for flattery. Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?

Yesterday, I had a terrible class that made me cry out of frustration. Today, I had a class that clapped, "wow"ed, and said "I love you, Teacher." Teaching is a package deal, and I love it.

Yelling "야" in class to get my students' attention certainly worked, although I wasn't expecting them to laugh so hard at my attempt to speak Korean. Also: I had a student make the S-line gesture at me and give me a thumbs up saying, "Very sexy, Teacher!"

Never a dull moment at 다우중학교!

The class activity today is conversation and students are encouraged to ask me questions. I just had a student look me in the face and ask, "Teacher. How babies make?"  

Oh, adolescence.

I was just asked for my phone number twice, and once for my hand in marriage.

My student Amanda asked me "Which boy in this class is the most handsome?"  I declined to answer.  The fact that I'm only 8 years older than the third graders has seemed to blur the lines of propriety in many of the boys' minds.  I don't want to encourage that.

I may have just permanently damaged my reputation by answering, "Teacher, when was your first kiss?"  

Do middle-schoolers ever think about anything else?

One of my students discarded the English name I gave him and renamed himself "Sexyboy."  Umm... sorry, kid, but I'm not calling you that.

Apple, Kristin, Kelly, me

Kelly, me, Judy, Apple

Daun-dong may have been branded "the sketchiest neighborhood" in Ulsan and, admittedly, I'm not thrilled to live in a moldy apartment... but I do love my neighborhood. On my way home from school this evening I ran into two of my students (who are very cute and very in love) on a date. I also ran into a group of four of my third grade boys, all of whom wished me a good weekend and one (who has given me plenty of headaches in class) made a heart with his arms and said, "Teacher, I love you!"

Sketchiness is a small price to pay for these moments.

November

So "William" (my student I named after the Bard and any number of English Romantic Poets) returned to my class after being suspended with a bigger crush on me than before. When I asked my students what they thought of a music video we watched together, he raised his hand. I called on him and he said, "Teacher." "Yes, William?" "Teacher. Beautiful. I love you."

"Thanks William, but what did you think of the music video?"

"Teacher is very, very beautiful." He proceeded to clap at this idea

I also overheard him ask my coteacher something in English, to which she responded, "It's 'Do you want to go on a date with me?'"

Oh dear...

This afternoon, my colleague informed me of the magical teachers' lounge with couches and beds for sleeping. How could I have worked at 다운중학교 for two and a half months without knowing about this?

Of course, this magical room is where I spent my sixth period.

Today, students were supposed to ask or answer a question.  William had a too-big grin on his face when I called on him: "Teacher!"  All the boys in his cluster were laughing.  

"Yes, William?"  "Teacher, do you have a boyfriend?"

I sighed.  I could either lie to placate him, inadvertently encouraging his crush on me, or I could inform the entire class of my recent news.  I chose the latter.  "Yes, William.  I do have a boyfriend."  William looked up with his sad, wide eyes before dropping his head onto his desk and exclaiming, "Teacher, I cry!"

"I'm sorry, William!  미안해.  But I'm too old for you!  I'm an ajumma to you.

At this point the whole class (who had been loudly reacting to their newly acquired information about my personal life) protested, "Oh no, no, Teacher!  You are not ajumma, you are girl!"

December

It's really sweet to see the schoolyard romances of my students. I have to stop myself from enveloping them into group hugs and exclaiming my happiness for their happiness... Somehow I don't think that would be a professional course of action. But they sure are adorable!

Teaching a lesson on Self-Esteem is really fun when your students feel good about themselves, but it's heartbreaking when your student turns in the "I Like Myself" worksheet you made and answered every question with "nothing.

That awkward moment when your student has a massive crush on you and you accidentally touch his butt...  Oh, dear.

I'm experiencing my first proper snowfall in Ulsan with my students. Life is simply beautiful.

"Dear Santa, my name is Roy.  This year I have been a little naughty.  Please give me a girlfriend because I'm lonely.  I will leave you my love on Christmas Eve!  Merry Christmas."

Love, Sweat, and Beer

It's been awhile since I last wrote, and a lot has transpired in that time.  I am stuck in my apartment for the time being, but the landlord did fix the water problem as well as the stove.  (Not that I'm letting him off the hook... the mold is as bad as ever, and when we came over to look at the water leak he was his rude, creeptastic self.  At one point, he hacked up a chunk of phlegm, spit it into his hand, and proceeded to just hold it there.  I was appalled).  Actually, the fact that he had my stove and water problem fixed was dampened by the fact that, when I returned home from work after giving the landlord my door code, I discovered that someone, repairman or landlord, had been all over my place.  I had wrapped some fairy lights around my banister railing, but whoever had been at my place had unwrapped all 20 meters of lights and taken them down.  My trash can was full of strange things, including a pair of shoes I'd never before laid eyes on.  I was disturbed that someone had been in my place.  I felt mildly violated, and very wary that my door code was no longer exclusively known to me.  (The code has since been changed, and I do feel safe now).

About a month ago, Kaela and her coworker Connie and I went to the Onggi festival.  I spent both Friday and Saturday evening at Kaela's place, and we had a nice time, indulging in makkeli and girl talk.  After the festival, the three of us travelled to Busan for, what I had been told, was the most epic firework show in Korea.  Since the crowds at this event tend to be horrific, Kaela suggested that we view the show from the top of a mountain.  In theory, this plan was great.  In reality, the physical exertion was painful (four hours of mountain climbing will make anyone's ass hurt) but we didn't even get to where we needed to go.  (And the normal soreness of climbing was amplified by the fact that I was on my period).  We kept climbing and climbing, then suddenly we saw this:

 We kept climbing.  The barbed wire thickened.  The signs grew more ominous.

 Still, we were determined to reach our destination; we had come this far, how could we give up?  The trees were thick and the path was steep when we heard a booming Korean voice, magnified by some unseen speaker located somewhere above our path.  Since none of us understand Korean, we tentatively continued our trek.  Suddenly, the announcement changed into English, warning us that "This is a minefield!  Do not approach the area."

We hightailed it back the way we came.

Climbing down a mountain is much less exhausting than climbing up; climbing a down a mountain in the dark, though, can be mildly frightening.  By the time we reached sea level, night had officially fallen and it was nearly impossible to find a taxi to the underground station.  After the taxi took us to the train and the train took us to our stop, we emerged from the underground to find that the crowds were so congested that the police formed a seemingly endless human chain to keep more people from going to the beach.

We had no choice but to return to the underground.  We ended up near the water, but this beach was too far away from the firework show to offer any kind of view.  We opted to buy snacks and alcohol from the nearest convenience store and embraced the Korean freedom to drink in public.  We sat on the sandy beach, seeing approximately one firework from the distance. It had truly been an excursion of blood, sweat, and beer.  And the real entertainment turned out not to be the fireworks (which we all but missed) but the romantic antics of a young, college-aged Korean couple down the beach from us.  Yes, I felt like a pervert, but 1) they were doing it openly 2) nothing got past the level of chaste Korean drama (PG rating, tops) and 3) My acute awareness of my own singleness would not allow me to look away.

Couples culture in Korea is tangible.  It's normal to see people paired up, linking arms, holding hands, wearing matching outfits.  A few weeks ago I was waiting at a crosswalk in Samsan-dong and I noticed this young couple, probably just post-high school.  They were clearly in love with each other and when I saw them I was overwhelmed with a pure, empathetic happiness.  (It was the same kind of "happy for" I felt during one of my last weekends in Minnesota with my sister Greta.  We were driving down to Minneapolis and the night skyline was just coming into view.  The song "Boom Clap" was blaring on our radio and there was a couple, tattooed and decked out in leather, riding a motorcycle next to our car.  She had her arms around his waist but she spread and lifted her arms like she was flying...  Greta and I were just like, "You go!  Be happy!"  And honestly, it probably wasn't safe for me to be crying so many tears whilst operating a car on a freeway... but I was deeply happy for them and thankfully no accidents were caused on account of my sincerity).

I'm happy in Korea.  I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face.  I ardently believe that being in Korea is a gift, a true blessing, and I am infinitely thankful for my life.  Also, I have news of a more personal level that I can't not address here:

The day that the landlord and repairman came into my apartment was Halloween, and it was that evening, while I was wearing white, feathery angel wings, that I met my boyfriend.  He's Korean but he lived in my home state of Minnesota for a year as an exchange student.  (What are the odds of that?  Seriously).  Everything clicked, and my life in Korea somehow became even brighter.

Sometimes the best parts of life are the most unexpected.

On apartment woes and the absence of flying ducks

I want to move out of my apartment.

In addition to two-thirds of my stove not working and the prolifically advancing mold spores, I've had water coming out of my floor for the past several days.  At first, I threw a towel down on the spot, assuming I'd come out of the shower and my hair dripped on the floor.  But it didn't go away and yesterday I spent a good hour mopping it up.  I thought I'd soaked up the bulk of it and I put a towel over the area to collect the excess.  When I woke up this morning, not only was that towel soaked through, but it was sitting in a massive puddle.  Aish.

On my walk to school, I dreaded telling Mentor Teacher about the water.  I've felt that our working relationship and potential friendship has been strained as a result to the issues I've had with my landlord and apartment.  To elaborate:

The weekend before last, I stayed the night at my friend Ashley's place.  Like me, Ashley is a public middle school teacher through the EPIK program.  Unlike me, Ashley lives in a functional apartment that wouldn't fail a health inspector's scrutiny.  After bitching over these observations to Ashley and later, to Kaela and Rudy, I texted MT about my ongoing mold problem as well as the absence of hot water in my shower.  MT replied, apologizing about the hot water and assuring me we could talk about it at school the next day.  As far as the mold, she relayed to me the landlord's solution: "He says to leave windows open for breezing to clear mold."  Sound advice.  (Not).  I insisted that the problem had only grown but that we could talk about it in the morning.  Pissed off as I was at the situation, I didn't want to blame MT for the landlord's mental incompetence or for the problems with my home.

The following day, MT set up an appointment for a repair man to fix my boiler.  I had to let my after-school students out of class 10 minutes early in order to arrive home in time for the appointment.  I'd mentioned to Math Unni and History Unni that I felt a little weird about having a repair guy come to my messy apartment.  "Oh, he won't care about that.  He's just there to fix the boiler," they assured me.  Fair enough.

However, when I reached the fourth floor of my building, I noticed that the landlord was waiting for me.  Why is he here?  I begrudgingly let him in.  Like I said, I hadn't expected company so my place wasn't at its best.  (My tendency for messiness is exacerbated because 1) I don't spend much time at home due to the mold 2) I don't make an effort to clean because I don't like being at home).  What followed was an incredibly awkward hour of standing around, staring at the wall as the repairman fixed my boiler and the landlord muttered in Korean.  He acted particularly pissy when he saw that I had closed the windows.  Well, genius, it rained this morning and I didn't want more water making more mold on my walls.  He made several calls on his phone; at one point I think he spoke with MT.

At any rate, I was happy to be rid of my uninvited guests once they both left.  I took the bus into Samsan-dong for the rest of the evening, once again avoiding my moldy home (which had lost what little comfort it had after being invaded by that freak).

The next morning MT pulled me into the teacher's lounge on account of something "serious."  She told me that my landlord had angrily called her complaining about the "mess" in my place.  To make matters worse, he had tried reaching her during her after-school class; she didn't answer her phone, so he'd called the school.  Who the hell does this guy think he is?  I felt awful, both embarrassed and angry.  And also worried.  I've been nurturing my relationship with MT very carefully since I started this job.  I understand that I started out as a kind of nuisance to her and I have done my best to rise above the helpless waygook persona into someone worth knowing.  Up until this point, MT and I had been bonding periodically... Who is this ajusshi with his mythic beliefs about mold to mess with my professional life?  I have tried to be patient but I'm really starting to hate him for coming between MT and me.

After that uncomfortable conversation I went to my classes and didn't see MT for a couple of hours.  When I returned to the Teachers' Room she was laughing (good sign) and called me over.  She even took both my hands (skinship is also good; she must not be mad) and said, "He called me again!"  I was glad that she was finding humor in the situation instead of anger, but I felt angry.  Apparently, she had left her phone at her desk during lunch.  He had called three times in a matter of thirty minutes.  "Aigoo, when this is all fixed, let's drink alcohol together," MT suggested.  YES, please.  I need a drink after this bullshit.  I would love to invite MT and Gloria and Math, History, and HomeEc unnies to my home, and I promised MT of this girls' night once everything is sorted.

Flash-forward to this morning: I relayed my water problem to MT and specifically asked her not to tell the landlord about it until tomorrow when I have more time to clean.  In what I've found to be typical Korean fasion, MT arranged for him to come over tonight at 7:00.  This leaves me exactly one hour to get my place ready for his scrutiny.

I've decided that, yes, I will clean.  But for MT's sake, not for his cheap ass.  Frankly, it's none of his business whether or not my place is clean.  As far as his opinion of me, I don't give a flying... duck. 

Flying duck I don't give

Most importantly, ajusshi, let's not be distracted from the real issue at hand here, namely your cheapness, incompetence, and utter failure to fix the stove and the mold in your slum-like establishment.

Wish me luck.  Pray for my situation.  I think that I'll have no choice but to go to the Office of Education and ask to be moved to a new apartment... but I worry about how this will affect my relationship with MT.  I hope this apartment nightmare will end soon so I can get on to writing about the better, more interesting aspects of my Korean life.

Peace.

In which I cry at school, am told that my head looks like an egg, and feel that I'm exactly where I should be.

Well, I finally have internet in my apartment... woo-hoo!  Unfortunately, I still don't have wireless, so my battle with technology has yet to be won.  My laptop is slow, old, and has a screen with the annoying tendency to flicker for no apparent reason; this is the device I can use at home.  My tablet is brand new and has an app to mask my location, thus allowing me to watch as much Hulu as my heart desires.  (Hulu has a multitude of subtitled Korean dramas available for streaming... this is one of the main reasons I have wanted internet at home with such an intensity).

Life in Korea is good, but I am a little overwhelmed by the prospect of blogging all I have failed to write about in the recent past. 

Korea has done strange things to me.  In two months, I have morphed from someone whose knowledge of Korean pop culture was limited to the Gangnam Style music video, into a Hallyu enthusiast.  For those of you wondering what "Hallyu" is, I will save your fingers a trip to Wikipedia by pasting their definition here: "Hallyu is a neologism referring to the increase in the popularity of South Korean culture since the late 1990s."  In other words, Hallyu encompasses the massive wave of pop culture originating in South Korea and spreading its addictive coolness to other parts of Asia and beyond.  This trend is quite visible in music, films, television, and fashion but it is so much more than just that.  Hallyu is a way of life and a living, breathing entity.  Like I said, I will devote a separate post to my new and ardent love for Hallyu because it's just that significant.  (So stay tuned, please!).

Two weeks ago, I rode the KTX express train for the first time to visit Seoul for the first time.  At EPIK orientation, almost every other teacher I became close to was placed in Seoul.  Because of this, I had an open invitation to stay with my friend Alison which I happily took up during my four-day weekend.  Seoul is an exciting place and I will be back soon; there wasn't nearly enough time to see or do all I wanted!  I found the subway system to be one of the most convenient to navigate (which is saying something, considering how many metro systems I've experienced in the past 18 months).  The best part of my trip to Seoul was reconnecting with friends from orientation; even though I am on the other side of the country, the gloriously fast KTX train makes my distance from these lovely people seem much smaller.

At Gyeongbokgung Palace

This past weekend, I went with Kaela, Rudy, and a few other people from the International Church to the Jinju Lantern festival.  Jinju is several hours away from Ulsan so we made a day of it.  We had a good time among the floating lights and lanterns.  My camera isn't designed for low light but I managed to get a handful of pictures in the dark.  I think between the six of us at the festival, there are plenty of good photos (although they haven't been uploaded yet, as far as I know).

The river before the lanterns are lit.



Besides my trips to Seoul and Jinju and my obsessive love of Hallyu, most of my life lately has revolved around teaching and my community at school.  As much as I enjoyed visiting Seoul, I wouldn't want to change anything about my location because I love my school.  I am about 10 years older than my students and about 10 years younger than most of the teachers, but I've been graciously adopted by several teachers.  (Particularly the three who brought me to the seaside).  The weekend before I traveled to Seoul, "Math Unni" ("unni" means older sister) took me to the hair salon to get my hair cut.  My bangs have grown too long for me to wear without pinning them back, so I hoped to get my split ends trimmed and my bangs restyled.  In my American way of thinking, this would be a simple procedure and I would walk out of the salon with freshly cut bangs.  My American way of thinking forgot to consider the ever-present reality of the Korean Surprise.  The stylist didn't speak English but Unni explained to me that the stylist thought my face was better without bangs.  "Forehead is too pretty; keep hair growing."  I confusedly sat in the chair, remembering that History Unni had remarked on more than one occasion, "I like your head, it's like an egg!"  (Being told you have a "small face" or a head "shaped like egg" is a compliment in Korea).  I resigned myself to waiting for my bangs to grow out as the stylist trimmed my split ends and left my bangs untouched.

Teaching has been frustrating and rewarding.  The ringleader of troublemaking in my third grade "demon class" was completely out of control this week.  It was bound to happen sooner or later: I was so angry and overwhelmed that I cried.  Thankfully, that was my last class of the day and I held it in until the bell rang.  But two of my room cleaners, Hareton (after Hareton Earnshaw in Wuthering Heights) and Donnie (after Donnie Darko) noticed before I had a chance to flee to the Teachers' Room.  Teacher Song, Math Unni, and Mentor Teacher were all very sympathetic, especially when I explained which student was particularly bad.  Apparently, he's a hellion to every teacher at school.  I also heard that his psychiatrist quit on him and his home life is pretty bad; I really hate having so many disruptions in class but more than anything I feel sorry for him.  I've worked with a lot of traumatized and behaviorally challenged children since high school and I love every single one of them.  But I found that the best way to reach the kids I've worked with was through one-on-one time and open communication.  I don't speak Korean so I am incredibly limited in the interaction I can have with this student... I'd like to simply explain to him that I am not his enemy and I want my class to be rewarding for all my students, including him.  But in light of my incompetance in the Korean language I'm stuck.

Anyway, the crying incident happened on Tuesday.  Wednesday was much, much better.  My first class of the day (with Gloria) had shown some pretty bad behavior before midterms.  I don't know what she told them in Korean at the beginning of class, but they were incredibly sweet and endearing.  Some of the boys in that class are fairly low-level English speakers so I don't know how much they actually understood.  However, when I would finish a sentence during my presentation, several of them would "wow" in awe.  I laughed about that and assured them it really wasn't necessary to "wow" (or clap, as some of them had) at everything I said, but I can't pretend I didn't enjoy it.  I also had one of the students who had given me (and apparently everyone else) a lot of trouble before midterms raise his arms over his head in a heart shape and say "Teacher, I love you!"

I teach after-school conversation classes every day until 5:30.  I have a handful of third graders Monday through Wednesday and second graders on Thursday and Friday.  One of my brightest and most respectful students, Patrick, told me that he doesn't enjoy school because there are far too many pressures on students; the only aspect he looks forward to, he said, is my class.  It is moments like these that ground me in my new reality and make all the difficult class periods completely worth my time.

My stream of consciousness is losing momentum and it's almost time for me to teach my penultimate class of the week.  I still have many things to write about (including a creeptastic language tutoring experience) so check back soon.  Peace!



Why my landlord kind of sucks (in my opinion).

Obtaining wifi in Korea has proven to be an evasive and seemingly impossible task.  In order to even apply for internet, I first had to receive my ARC card.  (In the meantime, I've either used my office computer at school or invested in the iced tea and muffins at Paris Baguette in order to use their signal... they're probably getting sick of my presence). 

It's been about two weeks since I received my ARC and yesterday MT finally pulled up the online application for internet.  It took me less than 5 minutes to fill out (which makes me wonder why she couldn't have shown it to me sooner... but I know she is a lot busier than I am so I will try to withhold judgement).  Anyway, I had to deliver my bank account information, my ARC numbers, and my address over the phone when a company representative called me.  This only worked out because I didn't have students during their midterm exams; I was available to set up a time for installation today for the same reason. 

Today, the installation team (two guys) came to my building at the agreed upon time.  They didn't speak English but they spent a few minutes on the phone when they got there.  Through his smartphone, one of the guys told me "the landlord is refusal."  ...Huh?  The other guy called an interpreter who explained to me that the installation team called the landlord but the landlord wouldn't let them install the necessary equipment in my apartment.  At this point, I was righteously pissed off.

The only time I've ever met my landlord was when he came over to fix the stove and left after an awkward hour of fixing nothing.  Only one of the three burners turns on; same as before he came over.  While he was there, I pointed out the copious moldy spots on the wallpaper.  He doesn't speak English so he didn't directly say he wouldn't deal with it, but he seemed to brush it off and since he hasn't done anything yet I don't think he ever will.  After this incident, I am confident that he completely sucks as a landlord. 

I'm sick of spending my money on muffins that I don't even like to eat.  I called MT and she says she'll talk to my landlord tomorrow to work something out...  I certainly hope it happens soon.  I have gone to extremes for the sake of wifi (including one instance a few weeks back in which I sat on the street corner outside of Paris Baguette at 4:00AM in order to Skype into my book club meeting.  If that's not a testament to my deep love for that book club, I don't know what is).

I hope that my next post will be written from the comfort of my own moldy apartment.  Keep your fingers crossed for me!

School Daze

I have many, many things I could write about.  I've had good intentions to blog but, seeing as I'm still without wifi in my home, I can either blog during my office hours at school or while I'm using the signal at Paris Baguette.  I'm far too busy streaming Korean Dramas at Paris Baguette to blog, so I write this entry from my desk at school.

Third Graders gathered at the entrance of Ulsan Grand Park

Two of my students sharing a bicycle

My mentor teacher and students

My mentor teacher and me

I love teaching.  I'm surprised at how quickly I've fallen in love with my new life situation; surprised, but deeply happy.  In spite of being hired as a Guest English Teacher through the EPIK program, I was apprehensive about my ability to handle teaching middle school students in a language that is not their first.  When I began teaching, I wondered whether or not the Korean English teachers even approved of my methods.  All this uncertainty changed for me, though, the day of the third grade picnic at Ulsan Grand Park.  I found myself sitting with Gloria.  Out of all of my co-teachers, I had found Gloria to be the most reserved; I had no idea what she thought of me or my teaching abilities.  At any rate, she shocked me by delivering the best compliment I could have hoped for regarding my teaching: "I think you were born to be a teacher.  Maybe you... what's the word... inherited the DNA for teaching from your teacher parents.  I know it's your first year but you seem like you have 6 or 7 years of classroom experience.  It usually takes a whole year for a foreign teacher to learn the students' level, but I think you know it already."

I was very, very touched by those words.  Gloria went on to explain that I am the third foreign teacher in her two years at 다운 Middle School.  If I feel some distance from the other teachers, it's likely because they had been close to the preceeding waygook teachers and are reluctant to open up to someone else who will most likely exit through the revolving door of foreign teachers.  Or, at least this is what she feels is the case.  While I haven't felt particularly blown off my anyone, I appreciated Gloria's sensitivity in telling me this.  And I felt exponentially more confident about my role as a teacher.

Since my school doesn't have a curriculum for me to follow, I have unlimited freedom in what I teach.  I also only need to design and write two lessons every week; I have the time and resources to devote a lot of effort into each lesson.  The lessons I've taught include: describing food, landmarks in the USA, the American Civil Rights movement, the 4th of July, sports culture in Minnesota, and a literary analysis to the lyrics of Green Day's song "Wake Me Up When September Ends."  (I used the song analysis for my "open class," a semi-annual event in which parents observe classes).  

I said I love teaching, and I do.  However, it's not always a picnic in Ulsan Grand Park with these students.  The success of a lesson largely depends upon the class dynamic.  I have engaged and forthcoming students, passive and bored students, and I have some real pains in my ass.  I've had problems with students hitting each other (it's hard to tell what's friendly from what's not... they will slap and hit but hold hands and hug the next minute), problems with students sleeping and, above all, problems with students speaking loudly in Korean while I'm speaking.  My co-teachers have helped to curb many of these problems in most classes, but I have major behavioral problems in one section of first grade and one section of third grade.  In all fondness, I sometimes privately refer to these classes as "my little demon monsters from Hell."  It's most unfortunate for the students in these classes who are distracted and interrupted by the loud, rude, and disruptive few who make both teaching and learning very difficult.  I have one third grader who I can't even refer by name because he never brings his English nametag to class.  He sits right next to my desk and is apparently immune to my frequent threatening looks because he shamelessly blurts out (what I assume to be) snarky comments in Korean while I am teaching.  After several warnings last week, I sent him out into the hallway for part of class.  Yesterday he was expelled to the hallway again and, after his return, took a lengthy nap on his desk (along with his entire section of the classroom).  He's certainly caused me headaches as a teacher and yet...

My most notorious trouble-maker takes a nap alongside several of his classmates.

The class leader poses for the camera as I snap a picture of one student using his friend's back as a pillow. The paper is falling off his face in this picture, but just a minute before he was using the reading assignment I handed out to shield his eyes from the light as he slept. Resourceful.

...I can't bring myself to dislike him.  That goes for all of my trouble-makers.  I've always had a soft spot for children with behavioral or emotional problems.  And I've noticed that my colleagues are the same way with the notorious students.  We might yell at them or send them into the hallway to hold a chair while kneeling or make them do squats in the back of the classroom (for the record, I've only ever sent students to the hallway; I haven't made them to any physical punishment... yet) but when these students show up in the Teacher's Room or see us in the cafeteria or walking in or out of the school building, they bow, say hello, and smile.  And we smile back.  It's kind of beautiful.

There have been silver linings to even the worst days in class.  Towards the end of the most appalling, frustrating class session in my admittedly short tenure here, I loudly expressed to my students that I did not leave my home and relocate 6000 miles away for that.  A few minutes after dismissal, about eight girls from the class came back with sincere, repentant eyes: "I'm sorry, Teacher!"

Most of my classes are a breeze compared to the difficult ones, and several are consistently fulfilling.  I taught my third graders about the American Civil Rights movement last week and was impressed with the maturity and respect they displayed as I gave my presentation.  After showing a video clip of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech, I gave each student a worksheet to facilitate their own speech.  Some students were apathetic towards the activity but I noticed many making an effort to complete the worksheet.  Two students read their speeches for the class, making me very teary and proud in the process.

The first student wrote about being free from school.  I haven't been in Korea long, but the terrible pressures forced on students through the Korean school system are already evident.  Suicide among teenagers in Korea is often fueled by school-related stress. 

I have a dream that one day this nation will have freedom for students.  

I have a dream that one day students won't have to go to school.   

I have a dream that one day students don't have to test.   

I have a dream that we have a freedom.  I have a dream today.   

I have a dream that one day study doesn't needed anymore.  I have a dream today.   

I have a dream that one day we can play all day.   

This is my hope and faith.  With this faith we will be able to change everything!  

This will be the day when we change it!

The second student to share his speech wrote about the reunification of North and South Korea, a sentiment echoed often during this assignment.

I have a dream that one day this nation will be reunited.   

I have a dream that one day North Korean[s] will travel [to] South Korea.   

I have a dream that one day we can go and travel to North Korea.   

I have a dream that our children will play with North Korea's children.  I have a dream today.    

I have a dream that one day I can go to Pyongyang and eat cold noodles.  I have a dream today.  I have a dream that one day I can go to Geumgang Mountain.  

This is my hope and faith.  With this faith we will be able to [be] reunited again peacefully.   

This will be the day when we gather our hope and power.

Most other classes responded well to this activity; I had students with a dream to be married and have children, a dream to be a doctor in a developing country, a dream to study abroad.  (I even had one girl who wrote "I have a dream that one day I will lose my virginity," though I didn't make her share that with the class!)

Even a year ago, I would not have believed that I would be in a classroom, listening to a teenager read his dream for his country's unification to me and his classmates.  I couldn't have planned for my life to be where it is today, but I'm so happy that I'm here.  Class of little demon monsters and all.

In which I visit the sea, have a pointless night out, and reflect upon my place in this world.

I have loads to say about teaching and being a waygook in a Korean middle school but for the sake of keeping this blog current, I will save those thoughts for another post.

I haven't seen Soo since Chuseok because of her work schedule.  I have, however, become close with a few of my colleagues.  Three of the other teachers, (Math, Economics, and History), have reached out to me; I now have people to sit with at lunch and brush teeth with afterwards.  On Saturday, the three of them brought me to the seaside for the day. 

M and H both brought their sons along for the trip so I got some quality time with two very adorable Korean children.  (These toddlers can speak better English than I can speak Korean!).  E drove and we bonded over our shared eclectic taste in English-language music. 

When we reached the seaside, E bought everyone something to drink at a little cafe before we started our long walk to find a playground for the boys, and then to the most scenic spot on the water.

Later in the afternoon, we went out for 샤브샤브 (shabu-shabu, a heavenly food medley cooked over a boiling pot right at the table) and indulged in a  copious amount of girl talk as we ate.  Although age hierarchy is important in Korea and I am 10-15 years younger than M, H, and E, I don't at all feel judged by my age.  It's refreshing.

That evening I felt restless.  It had been a perfect day out but I didn't want to while away the evening at home in Daun-dong, especially because I had already finished the K-Drama 풀하우스 (Full House) and still don't have TV or internet access in my flat.  It was Saturday night, after all.  I decided to take a bus to Samsan-dong and hope fate would bring me somewhere interesting (or that I'd at least be able to find one of the bars Kaela mentioned to me).  Unfortunately, my whim didn't pan out the way I anticipated.  I ended up wandering the streets by UpSquare, feeling conspicuous as the only waygook in sight and feeling incredibly sorry for myself.  Then I felt guilty for being bored and unhappy which just made me more unhappy and more sorry for myself.  Quite a vicious cycle.  It was late enough in the evening to call home so I vented my sad little tale for 15¢/minute, all the while hoping something, anything would happen to bring me somewhere worth being.  (Where are the "It's-nice-to-meet-you" conversation starting guys when you actually want to have a conversation?!).

Eventually, I wound up buying orange juice and using the wifi in a cafe before calling it a night.  When I went to catch a bus back to Daun-dong, I discovered that buses stop running before midnight and I was compelled to pay for a 12,000 won taxi-ride home... *sigh*   

If I learned anything from my otherwise pointless night out, I learned that I am very much still finding my place in the new world I have chosen to make my home.  There will be moments of loneliness and moments of feeling clueless and existential crises when I doubt my choice to relocate my life 6000 miles away from where I was born and raised.  But what I do know in the core of my being, even in momentary unhappiness, is that I am happier and freer in Korea than I have been in years, and this knowledge makes every struggle I experience here worth experiencing. 

I woke up on Sunday feeling a little better than I had the night before.  I had a text from Kaela saying she'd be at the International Church service at noon and inviting me to come.  It's a very friendly, diverse environment and located conveniently close to my flat.  After church I went out with Kaela, Rudy, and their friend C to Mugeo-dong for food and much-needed waygook camraderie.  I haven't been able to laugh like that since EPIK orientation; I was completely healed of my melancholy spell from the previous evening. 

Spending time with both Korean and waygook friends this weekend showed me that I am not alone in Ulsan and reinforced my conviction that this is where I should be.  After all, where else in the world can I feel no shame for wearing a giant pink bow on my head?