In praise of children's music that doesn't make me want to claw out my eardrums.

Every entry I've tried to write has begun with some kind of apology or excuse of self-flagellation for being too busy or too lazy or too overwhelmed to write.  (The unpublished entires in my "Drafts" folder attest to this).

But, I've noticed that there is far too much pressure on parents (mothers, particularly) to achieve every ungodly standard for how Pinterest thinks raising a child should look, and I'm not going to feed into that cycle by apologizing for my lack of blogging. It is what it is.

Unapologetic attitude notwithstanding, I do miss writing.  My life these days focuses mainly on the small human being I made.  Six months after giving birth (a story I fully intend to tell), I have escaped the fog of postpartum depression and self-doubt with sanity intact.  In other words, it gets better.  I swear to all of you struggling new parents, it gets so much better than those first months of sleepless nights and hazy days when you question every thought you've ever had or decision you've ever made leading up to that point.

I am in the unique situation of raising my first and only child in a country in which I don't speak the language, I am 6000 miles away from my blood relatives, 5 hours away from my mother-in-law, and my husband is gone for 12 hours on weekdays.  I am also blessed with a wonderfully chilled out baby boy, who is both happy and low-maintenance, and who has rapidly become the center of my world.  It took some time to get to know the creature to whom I gave life, and the bricks of guilt for not feeling the feelings I thought a mother should feel about her baby weighed heavily on me for some time.  In retrospect, I was far too hard on myself--just because you don't feel "in love" all the time doesn't mean you don't love your child; quite the contrary.  In those early days, love is a verb: it's what you do for your child and it's instinctual.  The feelings will come eventually.

Parenting became far easier and enjoyable once Baby started smiling and became more interactive.  Now he's almost sitting up on his own, he has two teeth, he enjoys jumping, and he loves people (me, most of all, which is a powerful, amazing feeling).  He loves music too, especially when he's in his jump-up, and this brings me to the purpose of this post: quality music for babies and kids.  I've come across some excellent resources and I'm happy to share them with all the parents who want an alternative to painfully annoying cacophonies marketed to children.

Really Rosie by Carole King

My mom is a big fan of Carole King and I grew up listening to her music.  Written and performed by King, Really Rosie accompanies a book and cartoon special animated by Maurice Sendak.  My siblings grew up singing along to the cartoon. According to a review from NPR, the album is "ostensibly educational, with its core songs serving as lessons about counting ('One Was Johnny'), the alphabet ('Alligators All Around'), good manners ('Pierre') and the calendar ('Chicken Soup With Rice')."  I remembered this album after my mom sang one of the songs over Facetime for Baby and have put it on for him several times over the past week.

Putumayo Kids

I stumbled upon Putumayo World Music years ago in my local library.  I vaguely remember checking out a disc of Asian lullabies as a high school student. Years later, I'm glad I kept that memory as Putumayo has become a wonderful resource for Baby and me.  Putumayo puts together anthologies of lullabies as well as more lively selections of music with various geographic themes.  Baby particularly loves jumping to Putumayo's Sesame Street CD which "features songs and Muppets from Sesame Streets in every corner of the world... [and] promotes cultures across the globe."  As someone who loves travel, I appreciate having Putumayo music as a resource to introduce world cultures to my son.  

I have a smorgasbord of ideas for blog posts and products that have made parenting more enjoyable, but I'll save those for another entry.  I hope I'll be back sooner rather than later, but I make no promises and bear no guilt for that.  Ciao!

I'm back!

I'm back.

Back in Korea after a hiatus of five months.

Back to this blog after a longer hiatus.  I stopped blogging for a while because I didn't want to publicly announce my plans to end my contract.  I'd made the decision to come home for a semester and reapply to EPIK for the February intake.

But then, more changed.  This happened.

And this happened.

And suddenly it was just too much to blog about, especially as I was only in Minnesota for a matter of months (away from my husband and in this very new, exciting, terrifying, and wonderful phase of life) so I've let this blog fall to the wayside.

But now that I'm back in Korea, living in the home Jun has prepared for me and our baby, nesting to the fullest and jobless, I think I'll have more time to blog.  The forgetfulness of "pregnancy brain" is very, very real, but I'm going to do my best.

Stay tuned, Readers.

It's more than just a rock.

Artist's rendition of Dokdo

My job comes with its perks.  A week and a half ago, I received an email from my program about "an all-expenses paid trip to Dokdo Island... offered through a joint partnership between the North Gyeongsand Provincial Office and the University of Daegu [as] an opportunity for foreigners to learn about and explore the controversial islands."  My co-teacher assured me that, if selected, I would be able to have the three days for the trip off from work (though I'd have to push my vacation time back a few days to make up the difference).  I wrote the application essay and was informed that I've been selected to attend!  Needless to say, I'm excited.  

I arrived at Incheon International Airport two years ago with only the barest knowledge of Korea’s culture and history.  In the weeks and months that followed, I found myself rapidly immersed in the vibrancy of Korea: I tasted kimchi for the first time, discovered K-pop and K-dramas, and marveled at the juxtaposition of modern neon and ancient temples upon my first visit to Seoul.  While I found that these components of Korean culture were easy for me, a foreigner, to identify, it became apparent that I was only scratching the surface.  It took me longer to notice the darker, deep-rooted memory of Japanese Imperialism in Korea but, once identified, I saw how this traumatic history continues to seep into the relationship between Korea and Japan.  I have since been drawn to learning more about it.

The legacy of wartime Japanese military sexual slavery remains a deep wound in Korea.  I read all that I could find on the victims of this atrocity, the euphemistically named “comfort women.”  I also traveled to Seoul to visit two museums dedicated to the issue, the Women’s War and Human Rights Museum (전쟁과여성인권박물관) and The House of Sharing (나눔의집).  Frankly, what I discovered through these experiences was shocking, horrific, and indescribably sad.  I eventually put together a lesson on “comfort women” for my advanced extracurricular class.  My teenaged students were eager to discuss the current struggle for survivors’ recognition by the government of Japan.  Learning about the scars of the past, the ongoing pain of the surviving victims, and the personal reflections of my students gave me new insight into the modern Korean psyche.

Furthermore, in my two years in the classroom, I’ve witnessed students speak passionately about Japan’s recent, controversial claim on Dokdo.  Because my Korean language skills are so rudimentary, the opportunities for me to learn about Dokdo are limited and I want to understand the passion that I see in the young people I teach.  My students are deeply concerned with how the past influences the present and, in turn, how the present might shape the future.  I believe that visiting Dokdo would allow me a valuable glimpse into an issue that weighs strongly in the hearts of Korean people.  I hope to remedy my ignorance on contentious issues and gain a solid foundation of knowledge and experience to better understand the people I interact with each day.   

Korea has been my home for the past two years; I believe that it is my responsibility to learn as much as I can about it.  Thank you for considering my application to visit Dokdo.

I'll write a follow-up post once I've returned from my trip.  It's also been a while since I've posted about day-to-day life in Ulsan; in brief, it's good but busy.  (Oh, we had an earthquake a few days ago... that might merit its own post).  Until next time, cheers!

In praise of spring and books and life.

Spring has injected new life into my veins.  My outlook is brighter with the flowers that seem to multiply whenever I blink.

I've been thinking about the direction my life has taken over the past several years.  Three years ago, I was crossing the finish line to earn my Bachelor's degree and looking forward to traveling and teaching in Eastern Europe over the summer.  Two years ago, I was in the thick of my application for EPIK, desperately trying to break free from my post-graduate existential crisis and underemployment.  Last year, I'd begun to feel at home in my newly-forged Korean life but I was emphatically greenhorn.

Lately, I'm experiencing something of an expat second honeymoon.  I've grown increasingly excited to be in Korea.  This land and its people fascinate me.  There's so much here in the way of history, architecture, pop culture, cuisine, religion, landscapes.  I've found myself wanting to learn about everything: watch the latest serial drama that my students are raving about, visit temples off the beaten path, and connect with more people in the community.  It feels so good to just be, here and now.

That being said, teaching is not always rosy and I can't pretend that I'm never disappointed, discouraged, or unsatisfied.  Even in my extracurricular Book Reading class, a few students regularly leave me wondering why they bother to show up.  Yet, what I've learned is that attitude is the defining component of most experiences.  I may be assailed with apathetic eye-rolls from one corner, but that doesn't dim the joy I experience when I work with those teenaged humans who have been entrusted to me in that classroom.  I have four second-grade girls who eagerly and enthusiastically volunteer to read for the class.  I have a handful of quieter students who soak in the lesson; even if they rarely speak, I notice that they listen.  I have one boy whose English level is too low to comprehend most of the books, but whose sense of humor and charisma regularly make me laugh.

The Korean Cinderella by Shirley Climo

Furthermore, I was pleasantly surprised with the recognition my co-teachers have given my extracurricular class.  They're so impressed with my efforts they've created a budget for me to buy more picture books for the students!  My co-teachers were surprised by how easily I compiled a list of beautifully illustrated books and asked me how I know so many titles: simply put, it's because of my parents.  My parents, who are both elementary school teachers, read to my five siblings and me all the time growing up.  We made regular trips to the public library.  My favorite part of elementary school was story time.  And--all of my siblings can attest to this--my memory has an annoying knack for detail.  Literature has probably defined more of my life than I'm capable of noticing, so the assignment to teach a Book Reading class feels like kismet.

Books are a medium for growth, whether it's inside or outside of the classroom.  Earlier this month, I had the privilege of visiting The House of Sharing outside of Seoul, a museum and residence related to the victims of Imperial Japan's systematic sexual slavery during World War II.  I'd known a little about the "comfort women," (a euphemistic term the Halmeoni or Grandmothers, as they prefer to be called, resent) before moving to Korea, but the atrocities of Imperial Japan are not common knowledge in the West.  What I learned at The House of Sharing sickened and angered me, but ultimately inspired me.  In spite of heavy stigma, insulting backlash, flagrant denial and, now, old age, survivors of sexual slavery are demanding recognition and pushing for reparation and education in Asia.  The strongest message I took away from The House of Sharing was that these stories need to be shared.  I bought the English version of a children's book about the Halmeoni and have since read it with my students.  While it is a painful and uncomfortable topic, my students reacted were eager to broach the subject.

Dace fish swimming upstream in the Taehwa River

I love teaching because it allows me to share life.  To me, books mean life.  Spring means life.  Korea means life.  This spring, the life that I've built seems more abundant than ever.  This weekend I'm going with a handful of other women to a retreat in the mountains.  I'll happily share about that experience in a future entry.  Peace to you, my beloved readers.

In which Korea magically transforms into heaven.

Winter is no longer in Ulsan.  Spring has most definitely sprung, and I couldn't be more thrilled about it.

Kitchen Window

This year, I'm teaching two sections of after-school "Book Reading Class" twice a week.  As the holder of a degree in Literature, I'm ecstatic at the prospect of introducing my students to treasures of the written word.  When it comes to after-school clubs, I have free reign about what and how to teach, so long as it fulfills the promise of "book reading."  I thought back to what I had read as a middle school student and recalled Ray Bradbury's short story "All Summer in a Day."  Unfortunately, it was too advanced and difficult to comprehend for even my most advanced students.  Taking that into consideration, I went further back to other stories I remember from elementary school.  The second week of class, I opted to use picture books with simpler words alongside vivid illustrations.  This method succeeded in piquing the curiosity of most of the class, so I've adopted it indefinitely.

During the harsh winter, when the days dragged on relentlessly, teaching felt like a chore.  Students affect teachers more than they probably realize, when it comes to attitude; I wasn't excited to go to work and looked at the clock more than I care to admit.  However, the spring and the new school year have burst in with energy and passion.  I'm remembering what I love about this job and I'm more than happy to put in more work and effort to give my students the best lessons I have to offer.

Yeh-Shen by Ai-Ling Louie and Ed Young

When it comes to picture books, the content available online is limited.  I got lucky and found some titles formatted for PowerPoint, but it didn't take long to exhaust those resources.  Thankfully, Korea's English-language bookstore has just about everything I could ask for, so on Friday I put together a lesson using Yeh-Shen: A Cinderella Story from China.  I realized that the language in the text was a little archaic; I simplified the text for easier reading aloud, photographed each page and compiled it into a PowerPoint so we could read it together.  (I might be bragging, but I'm proud of my efforts!).

Anyway, my after-school kids responded well to Yeh-Shen; even the few who emanate apathy most of the time showed a little interest in the illustrations.  To my surprise, though, the class best enjoyed If You Give a Moose a Muffin.  I'd initially thought that that book would be too childish for the teenagers in my Friday class, but even two of the girls who usually ignore what I'm saying and text under their desks when they think I can't see them volunteered to read a few pages!  

A Chair for My Mother by Vera B. Williams

This is what I love about teaching.  I love when my students surprise me.  I love when my students ask questions or answer questions or react to something we're reading.  I love to hear their voices in English.  I love to see their faces light up with comprehension or interest.  One of my favorite things about teaching in Korea is Korean paralanguage; when I explain something and it clicks, and the students say, in unison and with enthusiasm: "Aaahh!"  (And this isn't just students.  My colleagues, the ajummani in my dance class, even Jun; everyone does it).

This renewed passion I feel for teaching is accompanied by more energy and enthusiasm for other aspects of my life.  The most immediate and obvious example I can offer is this blog post.  I can't remember the last time I felt like blogging without having guilt about how much I had neglected to write and a sense of urgency to "catch up."  That mindset sucked the joy out of blogging for me--yet, now I find myself excited to share the good things that are happening right now in a blog entry, and that sense of obligation is happily absent.  I hope this feeling bleeds over into my other writing.  I've missed the satisfaction of writing poetry and mapping out stories for the sheer fun of it.

It's hard not to love being alive when there's so much beauty everywhere.  I love my neighborhood: the cherry blossom and magnolia trees, the Taehwa River, the walking trails.  I love running into my students and their parents and the people whose faces I recognize.  I love that my church is a five minute walk away from me, and that the cafe I frequent has the best chocolate in Ulsan and that the owner who knows me by name and gave me a piece of cake on my birthday.  I love that Jun and I can sit up on the roof of my building and stare at the sky.  I love that buses and public transportation are safe, frequent, and inexpensive.  I realize that, like the spring, this part of my life won't always exist in this way, but I love that I have what I have right now.

In which I abandon the Korean winter for summer in Australia.

I feel the world around me waking up.  The cherry blossoms are already starting to bloom in Ulsan.  Spring is ushering in a new kind of energy for an active new school year.  I'm dividing my teaching duties between two middle schools which splits up the week nicely, and now that I'm once again regularly attending my exercise class in the evenings, the days fly by.

One of the best perks of teaching English in Korea is the opportunity to travel.  Granted, the job doesn't allow much travel during the school year; even a weekend trip to Seoul can seem hurried when long hours of bus travel are involved.  But thanks to my renewal bonus, I was able to add a third week onto my two-week winter vacation.

I had known that, unfortunately, Jun wouldn't be able to travel with me.  He'd already used his allotted vacation time visiting my family with me last summer.  Going home to Minnesota again and in January was out of the question: it's winter there.  (Minnesota winters are not to be trifled with).  Additionally, most of my family wouldn't even be home if I had decided to visit.  Instead of freezing my ass off  on my parents' couch and eating leftover Christmas cookies whilst shivering under a blanket, I opted to visit two of my siblings in Australia.

Of course, having my penchant for maximizing travel, I opted to spend a few days in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia en route to Australia's Gold Coast.  The flight to KL was the first I'd taken solo since my move to Korea in 2014.  I happily rediscovered my fondness for solo travel and was fortunate to make new friends in fellow travelers and friendly locals.  Though blistering heat and thick humidity factored into the experience, it was worth climbing the steps into the Batu Caves, marveling at the skyscraper-studded skyline, being pulled from the audience to the stage of Mud: The Musical, and savoring coconut milk ice cream.

After a few well-spent days in KL, I flew to Gold Coast.  My sister had just started her semester abroad at Bond Uni in Gold Coast and I caught a bus from the airport to her campus.  Anthony has been in nearby Brisbane for over a year, so the three of us got to celebrate Annie's birthday together that first weekend.  Since she had classes and Anthony was still on break, I got to stay at his house and explore Brisbane during the week.

Anthony and I flew to Victoria for a long weekend which consisted of a road trip along the Great Ocean Road and a visit to Melbourne--both of which were laced with bizarre vignettes that facilitated a whole new chapter in our collective memory of inside jokes.  (A word of advice: Do your homework before you book a room.  I made the mistake of reserving a cheap room in a central location--not a pleasant experience!  I was lucky to have Anthony to laugh it through with me, but I don't miss the flickering florescent lighting, the stale smoke smell, the broken lock on the door, or the filthy facilities.  Please, read the reviews!).

Anthony had to be back in Brisbane for class, so I booked an overnight bus ride to Sydney.  Unlike the frightening hostel Anthony and I had stayed at in Melbourne, Mad Monkey Backpackers on Broadway was awesome--they let me check in early and take a shower.  (After 12+ hours on a bus, I deeply appreciated that! If you're looking for a clean, fun place in Sydney, check it out).  In KL, I met someone on his way back to Sydney after volunteering in Nepal, and he showed me around Darling Harbour and Circular Quay in the afternoon.  

Back at the hostel, I made fast friends with two girls from France and Korea--but residents of Sydney--and they brought me out with them for pancakes.  The next day, we visited an art gallery, Luna Park, the Royal Botanical Gardens and--best of all--the doughnut shop where they both work.  (I love Korea, but the art of doughnutry hasn't yet been perfected in my adopted country).

I returned to Brisbane to spend my final weekend Down Under with my siblings.  Traveling back to Korea was a grueling, exhausting experience, but a small and inevitable price to pay for an unforgettable trip--besides, after I slept off the jetlag I got to see Jun and tell him all about it.

So, that sums up my trip to Australia.  In retrospect, I've become even more interested in the literature of the country--a surprisingly undercirculated body of some distinct works, several of which I had time to read during the subsequent weeks of mandatory"deskwarming" while my students continued their recess from school.

As far as life in Korea, it's good, I'm happy, and after writing this blog post I can't think of much to say.  When something blog-worthy happens, I'll write another entry.  Peace!

크리스마스

Best wishes for a belated Christmas and New Year!

I promised this post a long time ago and I'm sorry that I failed to publish until now.

The month after Anthony's visit was a whirlwind.  I had my last round of classes with my graduating third graders.  I started teaching at another middle school twice a week.  The temperature in Ulsan has grown progressively colder, but no semblance of icy white dust has stuck.  I celebrated Christmas, the New Year, and my birthday, and I have absolutely no idea how it flew by so fast.

Last Christmas was my first without my family, and as someone who places importance not only on tradition and holidays, but especially on that magical feeling evoked by the holiday season, it was hard for me to be in a country that doesn't "do" Christmas.  Despite December 25th being Jun's birthday, the day came and went without the kind of pomp and circumstance that I craved.

This year, I was proactive.  I acquired a Christmas tree back in August from an expat who was trying to rid herself of possessions before returning to her home country.  I invited Jun's mom to celebrate with us in Ulsan.  I volunteered to read poetry and play the violin at the church Christmas concert.  I signed up to volunteer at the local orphanage.  In some ways, I spread myself too thin.

Between the Christmas Eve vigil mass and Christmas morning, I did my best to clean my apartment and bake as much food as possible (I don't think my bathroom has ever been as spotless as it was after I went over the tile with a toothbrush).  Jun and his mom arrived in the morning and I was thrilled to find that she'd bought me 2 dozen red roses.  My darling engineer gave me an electric toothbrush, which was less exciting but admittedly practical (especially because I had to get a cavity filled this fall and I'm eager to repeat the experience never!).

Jun and his mom and I got to exchange our gifts, eat the food I'd prepared, and sing happy birthday to Jun, but I quickly had to get to the orphanage.  Su and I met my friend Soyoung and we spent the next several hours with various children, some of which liked us, one of which insisted that we eat her imaginary food, and two very little boys who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.  (My Korean skills are perfunctory but I definitely comprehend when I'm being ordered to go away).  We ended the afternoon with some Christmas carols and a visit from Santa, which appeared to thrill the kids.

Me and Soyoung

Back in Ulsan, I performed two songs in a musical duet with my friend George, playing borrowed violin that made me realize how much I miss playing.  (I broke my elbow three years ago, putting a necessary stop to the musical career that began when I was in first grade, and there was no way I was going to check my precious instrument as baggage to bring with me to Korea.  Sadly, it's collecting dust at my parents' house now).  By the time Jun, his mom, and I were all back home, I was thoroughly exhausted but it had been a happy Christmas; I hardly had time to feel homesick.  The following day, I was able to open my Christmas gifts from my family over Skype and watch them open their gifts from me.  Technology is a significant comfort in the wake of the holidays.

The following week, Gloria and I had a girls' night on New Year's Eve.  She's not going to be teaching with me next year, which is sad.  But we had a good time ringing in the new year.  In the morning, I woke up early and climbed up to the roof to watch the first sunrise of 2016.  As my fingers steadily lost feeling, I nearly gave up on patience and went back inside, but thankfully the view was worth the effort.

Welcoming 2016 from my rooftop

Jun and I celebrated the New Year and my 25th birthday in Gyeongju.  For my readers who don't know, Gyeongju was the center of life during the Silla era, which lasted from the first until the tenth centuries.  Gyeongju is quietly brimming with history.  Despite the cold weather, it was gorgeous.

My real birthday is January 9th, and unfortunately Jun had to work all day (hence our early celebration in Gyeongju).  Su took me out to Seongnamdong for lunch, shopping, and cake.  Later, I got to meet and drink chocolate with Emily, a new Ulsanite and the former roommates of one of my best friends from Minnesota.  Small world!  

Su lighting the candles

It's weird being 25 (er, 26 by Korea's age system).  On the one hand, I still feel like I have no idea what being an adult means, and sometimes I worry that everyone will realize that I'm just a fraud who will never be a grown up.  On the one hand, I think I've grown and stretched and become more of myself acutely in the past year.

Cheers to 2016!