Teacher Planning Period

I am sitting in my mandatory teacher-planning period. We are in the 'special subject teacher room.' From what I can tell, teachers are watching videos, shopping online and, in my case, blogging.

I just finished my first day of teaching. Victorious! The classes went well, the students were very interested, and I didn't do anything offensive or unforgivable. It was, in fact, very gratifying to see the students singing my "can-do kids" song. My biggest concern is the amount of energy I gave them. They seemed to suck it right out of me like a sponge and spill it all over the halls and cafeteria. I'm not sure if I can sustain this everyday for a week.

I'm banking on the fact that third graders aren't going to take as much energy. They are rumored to be much calmer, more cooperative and lower maintenence even though they are younger. Plus, they're cute as hell. I'm going to take a picture of all the little asian kids so you guys can see how much cuter this race is when they're small. (Just kidding...I'm allowed to say this kind of thing because I'm two races)

My immune system is currently completely overwhelmed. I've developd a stye in my eye, a ridiculous sore throat and today I've been fatigued. I may be getting the swine flu (in which case I would be relieved of my teaching duties for a few blissful days). But, more likely, my immune system is just bruised by less-than-stringent health codes for street food, my general lack of grace (running into things), and Soju.

Cultural oddity #1:
Yesterday, I presented a powerpoint for my first lesson to introduce myself. The picture on the first slide was something I thought was a nice, neutral picture of me. I had my hair up in a bun and was wearing a black tanktop. Mi-Jung called me over to her desk and said, "I'm going to be frank. You are showing too much of your body in this picture." I felt like she was calling me a red-light district whore. I was embarassed, but I wasn't sure why. On my way home, I paid close attention to the women walking around Seoul. None of them had on spaghetti straps and I counted only two who had 'sleeveless' shirts on. When I got back to my apartment, I sorted through my wardrobe and discovered that half of my clothes consisted of some degree of sleeveless shirt, dress or sweater. I have nothing to wear in Seoul.

Other facts of relevence:

The picture of my dad at the beach without a shirt on was allowed to stay in the power point, although I changed it of my own accord later just to be fair.

Korean women often wear high high heels just to leave the house, and very short skirts.

Palm up or down?

Sign at my subway Station (Hoegi station) in east Dongdaemun, Seoul

I've been at my school now for a few days and it has been a much easier adjustment than I expected. All of the things I feared--unaccepting teachers, overwhelming workload, miscommunication--has not only been avoided, but seems to have been addressed and tackled by my co-teacher, Mi Jung, before I even got there. I heard horror stories about native speaking teachers being thrown into a teaching environment without any explanation of schedule, expectations or even a syllabus. 

Mi-jung was having none of that. She had a whole schedule made out for me. She explained that it was subject to change because she was trying to talk the principal into letting me teach third graders instead of sixth because the sixth graders were so rude. And was that what I wanted? She told me she was very sorry about the changes in plan at the last minute. (I wish I could present Mi-Jung to SMOE as a role model) I only had ot ask her about my settlement allowance once and she had the school accountant depositing it into my bank account this week. She gave me a specific time to plan out our lessons together. She reserved a classroom so we could have our own space to talk amongst ourselves. I love Mi Jung. 

I love her because she is all the things that I was afraid she wouldn't be. Don't get me wrong, she doesnt take me out to dinner like some of the other co-teachers. and she didn't buy a thing for my apartment. But she means well, and she's good in all the ways that really count. Jeeze, all my emotions are so raw I'm sounding corny.

Funny Story:

I sat down with my principal on the first day I came to school. It was very formal. We all had to wait to sit until he sat. A short, bobbing girl came in to serve us tea. No one said thank you. He spoke to Mi-jung in Korean and she interpreted for me. I kept my answers short. My tea was amazing, but I only sipped it twice because for some reason I thought that would be more polite. He dismissed us at the end with a nod of his head. We waited until he rose out of his chair before Mi-jung, the two vice principals Kim and I got up. 

But before that, he asked me, through Mi Jung, if I stuck my hand out the window palm up or palm down to see if it was raining. You see, I am only half Korean, and he wanted to see which half was dominant. This would be an indicator of how well I could adapt to the working culture at Myeon Mok Elementary School. I had no idea which answer was right. I answered truthfully, thinking that my truer half was American. "Palm up," I said, indicating with my hand what I meant. The Kims went "oohhhh" and the principal nodded. Mi Jung said, "That's what he thinks the Koreans do" with just the tiniest hint of exasperation. I'm more Korean than I thought.

In other news, I ran into a metal sign today. I was hiking back to my apartment because I had missed my bus stop by two. (It had to do with some confusion over what the 'stop' button meant and thinking, stupidly, that the bus doors would open to let people off at every stop). I was making the best of it, listening to my best cheerful music (Paul Simon) and taking in as much of Seoul as possible. I was absorbed in a type of miniature slum in which the houses, sitting far below street level next to the train tracks, were smushed closely together with trash and broken things on the rooftops. The day before I had passed the slum and witnessed a family perched in the narrow alleyway between two houses. They were all clean, and eating neatly with chopsticks from food spread out on a bright yellow blanket. My mind could not comprehend why the scene struck me as so interesting, so unusual. I was trying to figure it out when I slammed temple first into a metal sign. The sound was so loud, a young Korean male with headphones a few feet in front of me turned around to see what all the metal ringing was about. As I staggered backward I watched him turn back around so as not to witness my embarrassment. At first I was grateful, but as I walked I wondered if he would have helped me if I had fallen from the blow. 

Anyway, the blow did it. It cracked the careful wall I had built to hold in all my overwhelmedness. All my inflexible Americanness. Not since the first day when I saw how my bathroom resembled a prison and I would have to sit bare-assed on the sink to wash my hair had I cried. And only then a very little bit.

I guess I have more american in me than my principal thought. 

My address is: (1004) 319-12 Wooyong O.S. Vill 

    Hwi Kyung Dong, Dongdaemun0gu

    Seoul, Korea 130-876

Orientation Summation

Quarantined until further notice. 

Yep, that's what we were. Confined to lecture halls in the chemistry building, a dirt soccer field and three meals a day in the cafeteria. 

  

It was not unheard of to stand outside the dorms, 

(a gathering place between the boys' side and the girls' side)

slouching down with our purses and sandals. Not dressed up too much. Gathering up the nerve to walk outside into the city to quickly buy Soju at the market, scurrying it away in our bags to drink in our dorm room like the college freshmen we all were over four years ago. 

Apparently, foreigners, the other white meat, are notorious carriers of the swine flu.

Meanwhile, our SMOE guardians lorded over us in green basketball jerseys that sported fake American names like Claudia or Chuck, keeping information locked up in the COORDINATOR'S OFFICE at the end of the hall in the boys' dorm. 

(Funny story. Claudia, the notoriously uppity and self-righteous SMOE coordinator, told Adam Kostecki that his last name sounded like sonofabitch in Korean.)

We ate our Kimchee, but it was all we could do no to stab each other with chopsticks as we grew gaunt from lack of information and last minute changes of plan. On the morning of our departure, there was a list posted of last minute changes in teacher placements. One girl cried. It was a mess.

We did manage a good drunk though. 

 

Lisbeth and andrew and I played cards with Adam (the sonofabitch), Richard (from Richmond), and Philip (Who looks like the Canadian version of Chris King). They drank a liter and a half of Hite and I tried to drink some kind of sweet Soju that tasted like cough syrup. 

And here I am now in Dongdaemun at the Hoegi subway station. An hour and a half away from Lisbeth in Gangseo, forty five minutes away from Andrew in the south, and an hour away from my family in Mok Dong.

I guess I better get to learning how to navigate the subway.

Nerves

The longer I am kooked up at this university in Suwon the more anticipatory and anxious I get. There are several reasons SMOE gives us for our imprisonment. THey include:

1. quarantine for Swine Flu

2. To make sure nothing happens to us until our health insurance kicks in

3. because we are getting paid and we have to do what they say

Swine Flu here inspires near manic-like fear in the masses. We have to take our temperature twice a day. Our trip into Seoul to observe classes in action got canceled because of the Swine Flu (Because we might have it? Because the schools are closed?) Word on the street is that some of our schools haven't opened back up for the school year because of Swine Flu. 

But its not like people are dying. Or even getting sick. But there sure are plenty of people wearing masks.

But we are busting out tonight! We have company and we might break the rules. :-) More on nervousness later...

JETLAGGED

I have arrived in Seoul somewhat triumphantly.

I woke up this morning at 6:30 ready to start the day. (I also woke up at three thirty and five thirty, feeling as if I should have been awake long ago, although I only went to bed at ten).

Early this morning I was glowing: taking a walk around campus, meeting new people, eating breakfast, playing soccer on a dreadful dirt field, showering, TLC with Andrew etc. I started to wane around lunchtime and flagged considerably during the three hours that our whole crew sat through lectures on KOrean history, English teaching in Seoul, and Living in Seoul. By the time they dismissed us for dinner (with an alotment of about 20 minutes to eat) I was ready to pass out. I felt headachy, bodyachy and soul-tired.

LIsbeth and I took a much-needed two hour nap. When that alarm went off, I had to claw my way to the surface of consciousness and shuck the covers with tons of regret. We're hitting up the dominoes across from the cafeteria.

(Side Note: After failing to find the button to allow us entry through a sliding glass door into the dominoes restaurant, we had an interesting conversation with the dominoes guy who told us they didn't have the 'original pepperoni' but that they still had pepperoni. Needless to say, we got cheese)

Now we're waiting for pizza, and I'm thinking about going to find Andrew Dillon who is most likely asleep in his room.

I have been assigned as an Elementary School teacher which is great. I wanted little kids whose respect I didn't have to go through the trouble of earning. After today we will be divided according to our classroom levels to attend lectures. Lisbeth is Middle School. Andrew is highschool. Oh well, at least we'll be forced to make new friends.

Already I've made friends with canadians, a giant south african man and some Tories.

More on the information they gave us during lectures to come. I"ll post some pictures too at some point, as soon as I get this ethernet cable back.

Oh yeah and one more thing. SMOE would never fly in the states. It is one of the most disorganized and communication challenged organizations I have ever encountered. Different students have different information at different times. (Today, Jon Pak, program director, told a group of us to follow him outside and then left us to stand there wondering what to do next until we gradually dispersed.)

The frustrating part is, they had all the information originally and hardly gave the students any. We are still being withheld from information. For example, Jon Pak won't let us have a Q&A session until Friday. LIsbeth and I have deduced that this is so we foreigners can't make demands (such as changing schools/location/etc.) until it is too late.

I hope Lisbeth and Andrew and I get the same district.

I'm going to wander down to dominoes to see if my 'original cheese' pizza is ready yet.

Too excited to sleep straight

Tomorrow I'm leaving!

And I have mixed up feelings. 

I'm half teeth-falling-out anticipation, worried that I have packed too many bags to be reasonable, but left my socks behind lying peacefully in a plastic cubby in my closet.

I'm half wild anticipation, stuffing my soccer cleats in my 70lb. bag in case there's a pick-up soccer game at orientation. (Soccer with some hot Aussies?)

So I'm torn. what else is new?

Pre-plane jitters

I leave for Korea in four days. 

And I have that sort of nervous feeling I imagine a dog has when he's found the perfect spot to go to the bathroom, but realizes other dogs are in the vicinity and he is, therefore, far too vulnerable to allow himself to let go, to release that which he was just moments before preparing to expel. 

It's a light feeling in my gut that leaves me not-so-securely rooted to the ground-floating. I don't know if that's because my body is helping me out, un-attaching itself from the sticky Tennessee clay, or if its the universe or God telling me that I'm making a huge mistake. 

Malia, Go back for the following reasons:

your Grandma is from Cocke co.

you went to college forty-five minutes down the road

you drink the same whiskey every football game

you sing Dolly Parton at Karaoke Night

Those pictures of Jesus in Renaissance paintings have him soft-featured, mouse-haired, and palepalepale. He'd wouldn't mind if I failed to hop on my plane at McGhee Tyson, failed to bounce through Hotlanta and out the other side to bow down to SMOE affiliates with an Anyonghaseo! But my Grandparents at Korean Church worship that white God. He beat out Buddha in Korea after America beat out China---at least partly. So it would appear that God/universe might care about my Korean soul search. 

God and the Universe aside, the bottom line is: when people meet me for the first time they ask, "Where are you from?"

And I say, "Here"

But that's not entirely true, is it? 

I know where I'm from. I know where my home is, I'm just not clear on how to live in it. No wait, I'm clear on how to live in it, (and I do, happily) but I'm not sure that it can't be better living. 

I better finish packing.