A Small Army

          The school year may be over here, but my work isn’t done yet.  That’s because I’ve still got winter camp to teach.  In the US, a short summer course for kids is pretty common, and it’s kinda the same idea here.  Parents can’t really be expected to spend that much time with their children. Now, you might think that camp would be a more laidback version of regular class, all movies and games and fun.  For some people, that’s probably true.  But not for me.

          I was told I’d be teaching for two weeks- a dozen 3^rd and 4^th graders the first week and a dozen 5^th and 6^th graders the second week.  In the past, I’ve never really had the same kids for more than forty minutes at a time.  In camp, I was going to have the same kids for 4 straight hours in the morning.  To top it off, the head teacher decided he wanted to sit in on the lessons, because he’s got nothing else going on.  In some ways, I felt like the school year had all been practice for this, and camp was my final exam.  I was prepared to fail.

          The first day of camp came on Monday. I’d actually made a week’s worth of lessons in advance for the 3^rd and 4^th graders, and I planned on covering the same material next week with my 5th and 6th.  The English level is pretty much the same across the board, so I thought it made sense.  Anyway, my “3^rd and 4th” graders started coming in, but I recognized some older kids.  OK, I figured they’d switched the weeks around.  I’d be teaching my 5 and 6 first and the younger ones later.  Last second changes happen all the time, and I’ve gotten used to them for the most part.

          Once ten kids were there, I started my lesson.  But as things got going, kids continued to show up.  The class grew from 10 to 12 to 15…and didn’t stop until it got to 22.  I had to go get extra chairs and tables just so everyone would have a place to sit.  And that’s when it finally dawned on me: they’d combined the classes. 

          I’ve never actually taught a class that was bigger than 10 people before, so this was a new and horrifying sight.  I can barely keep five kids in line but twenty-two?!  No way.  I expected mass chaos.  Broken supplies and broken bones.  Screaming and shouting and crying.  But over these past few days, honestly, none of that’s happened much.

          Strangely enough, I can probably thank my head teacher for that.  It’s true- since he’s here, I have to generally teach stuff, at least for a couple hours.  But when he’s in the room, the kids are complete angels.  Full attention and cooperation.  They’re almost militant in their behavior.  (He’s even had them line up in formation when they misbehaved.)  Of course, when he turns his back, they start dancing.  They are kids, after all.

          Another double-edged sword- the class size.  Sure, smaller classes are generally more fun and interactive, but big classes have benefits, too.  The main one: doing any kind of project takes forever.  Oh, we’re making snowflakes today?  Hmmm….that should be about two hours.  And what do you know, the day’s almost over.  It’s kind of great.

This is how 3D snowflakes are supposed to look.  Big surprise, our snowflakes did  not look like this.

Make your own animal puzzle!  I'd like to congratulate myself on coming up with such a time-consuming activity.

          At times, camp has had its drawbacks.  One day, the head teacher didn’t want us to take a break, so I basically taught for four straight hours.  Not to mention, my “plan” for the next week has been completely thrown out the window.  I’ll have the same 22 kids again, so I’ll have to come up with hours and hours of new material.  But really, at this point I’m comfortable with teaching, so it doesn’t worry me too much.  What’re we gonna do tomorrow?  Maybe we’ll learn about prepositions.  Or we could discuss the cultural differences between America and Korea.

          Then again, maybe we’ll have a paper airplane contest.  Yeah, that sounds more like it.      

Escape From Jeju Island

         Recently, I took a ferry to Jeju island, which is a couple hours south of Korea.  It was a great weekend- the scenery was beautiful, the weather was warm, and I got to hang out with an old friend.  But sometimes, the real story doesn't happen when you're on vacation in an exotic, far-away place.  The real story happens when you try to come home.

This place is kinda pretty.

Down by a beach.

On a walk through the park.

At the trick art museum.  So many tricks.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?
It's me, right?  It's totally me. 

Classic.

         On the way to Jeju, I'd left from a port that was maybe ten minutes from my house.  But when I got to Jeju, I found out I was on the opposite side of the island from my friend.  It had resulted in a long and pricey taxi ride.  So for the way back, I came up with a great idea.  I'd take a ferry that left from a port closer to my friend.  Unfortunately, it wouldn't be able to go directly to my town, but it could take me to Mokpo.  That was fine- Mokpo is only an hour bus ride away from me, and public transportation is great in Korea.  I figured I'd hop on a bus and be home in time for dinner Sunday night.  This turned out to be a terrible plan.

       So after a fun weekend, I showed up at the harbor right around 4:30 on Sunday afternoon.  As I came up to the ticket counter, I heard the ERRR ERRR of a foghorn in the background.

       "One for Mokpo," I said.  

       The lady at the desk pointed in the direction of the foghorn.  "Mokpo goodbye," she said.

       "But there's one at 5:20, right?" I said.  "I checked on the Internet."

       She shook her head sadly.  "Sunday, no."

       Well great.  Mokpo was out.  I thought about heading back to the port that I'd come in at, but it was an hour away, and probably done for the day, too.  So I did what any reasonable person would do: I started throwing out random Korean cities and hoping there'd be a ferry somewhere.

       "Wando?  Haenam?  Anything?"

       "Hmmm..." said the lady.  She got on her cell and had a quick conversation with someone.  After she hung up, she looked at me, smiled, and said, "Nokdong."

       Nokdong?  What the hell is Nokdong?  I know most of the cities and towns in my area, and I'd never heard of this place.  If I ended up too far from my region, I'd be in for a day of bus rides.  And there was just one small problem with that:  I had to work tomorrow.

       "Nokdong where?  Odi?" I said.  I made a circle with my hands.  "Korea," I said, holding out my hand-map.  "Nokdong where?"

       The lady looked at me like I was insane.  Honestly, I can't blame her.

       "OK, fine.  One for Nokdong," I said, handing her my card.  I figured, what's the worst that could happen?

       The ticket actually turned out to be cheaper than my one to Jeju, so I was pretty happy.  On my first ferry ride, I'd been on this fancy double decker ship that had huge TVs everywhere and rows and rows of airplane style seating.  So maybe this one wouldn't be quite as luxurious, no big deal.  But when I boarded, I noticed that my ticket didn't have a seat number.  Weird.  I showed it to one of the staff, and she smiled and motioned for me to head down a hallway.    

       At the end of the path, I came to an open door that led into a massive room.  Inside, there were no seats.  There were no big screen TVs.  There were just hundreds and hundreds of Koreans crammed into this one room, sprawled out all over the floor.  Oh Jesus.

       My first thought:  I must be on some kind of immigrant ship.  This is what my great-grandparents endured on their way to Ellis Island.  Bodies were huddled into corners, one crossed over another.  There was one small path which cut through the room, and I started slowly walking down that.  I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going.  After a minute, I realized the Koreans were separated into these square sections, and inside of each section seemed to be a group of people that knew each other.  Was I just supposed to crash one of these parties?  I stopped walking to survey my options.  Needless to say, I was the only white person in the room, and I'd already begun drawing a lot of attention.

       "Eh!"  I spun around to see some Korean dude looking at me.  He reeled off a couple sentences in Korean, of which I understood very little.  Then he waved me over.  Alright, what the heck.  I've got nowhere else to go.  So I kicked off my shoes and joined him and his friends.  About half a second later, beer, soju, and a plate of fried chicken were shoved in front of me.  Things were looking up.

Madness.

Dinner time!

       "Thank you.  Camsamnida,"  I said.  He tried to talk to me in Korean for a bit, but I explained that I only knew a little bit.  

       "English!  English!" he called out.  He dragged some fifty-year-old lady over to me.  "English speak," he said proudly.

       "Hello," she said.  "You go Nokdong?"

       "No, no," I said.  "I live in Jangheung."

       They all gasped.  Then they started whispering to each other in worried voices.  Jangheung?  Jangheung?!?  Even though they couldn't put it into English, it was pretty obvious what they were thinking:  What in the world is this guy doing here?

       The woman started to speak again.  "There is Jangheung ferry.  Why not?"

       I wasn't really in the mood to explain my idiotic plan, so I just pointed at her watch and said, "Time, no.  I was too late."

      "Ahhh," they all said.  

      "So..." I said.  "Nokdong bus to Jangheung?" I asked.

      "No no no," someone said.

      "What?"  I admit, I was starting to get a bit anxious.

      "One bus, Nokdong to Beolgeyo.  Two bus, Beolgeyo to Jangheung."

      OK, so I could get back, it would just take a few bus transfers.  But I had never heard of this Beolgeyo place, either, so it seemed like I might be pretty far from home.  Still, I figured I'd get into Nokdong around 7 and set out for home.

      "Tonight, bus no," said the man.  "Time out."

      "Bus terminal closed?" I said.

      "Yes," he said.  "Sleep where?"

       My day just kept getting better and better.  It looked like I'd be spending the evening in Nokdong, and then I'd leave the next morning.  Would I make it to work?  Who knew.  And as the man had so kindly pointed out, I was homeless for the night.  But when in doubt, I always stay at Korean bath houses, or jjimjilbang.  You have to sleep on the floor with a bunch of people, but it's really cheap.  I think it evens out.  

      "Jjimjilbang?" I asked.

      "Ah OK, OK." the man said.  He pointed at himself and mimicked driving.
      "You'll drive me there?"

      He nodded and smiled.  All joking aside, Korean people have got to be the kindest, most generous people I've ever encountered.     

      After we finished eating, a couple women brought out cups full of small wooden sticks.  Again, I had no idea what was going on.  Was this another strange Korean delicacy I'd yet to try?  Because I really wasn't looking forward to chewing on splinters.  Another guy came over to sit by me, and it turned out he was a doctor who spoke pretty good English.  He explained that they were about to play a Korean gambling game called yutnori.  Once I saw the piles of cash start to mount, I knew he was serious.  Gambling in Korea is illegal, which I think has turned Koreans into a bunch of repressed addicts.  I looked around and saw cards and sticks in every corner of the room.  They didn't stop betting until the ship arrived two hours later.

It's business time.

       Once we got to the port, I said my goodbyes, and the first guy drove me to the jjimjilbang.  I spent the night, woke up the next morning, and got on a bus to Beolgeyo.  I still wasn't sure if I'd make it back in time for work, but I knew it was gonna be close.  I took a bit of a nap on the bus, and when I woke up I saw that I had about ten missed calls and messages from my school.  They seemed pretty frantic, saying things like, "Where are you?  We are so worried about you."  Someone from the school must have gone by my house and realized I wasn't there.  Just as I started to type out a response, my phone died.  Of course it did.  But at this point, I didn't care- I was only focused on getting back. I transferred from bus to bus, my first class drawing nearer, until I eventually got to a town I recognized.  A half hour later, and I was finally home.
       First things first, I went in to find my assistant.  She still looked uneasy, even though I was right there in front of her.
       "Where were you?" she asked.
       "Umm..."  I said.  "I don't really know."
       "A doctor call the principal and tell us about your ferry problem."
       "What?!"  Once I got over the shock, I realized that was how everyone had found out.  The doctor had actually looked up my school's number, and called them to make sure I was OK.  It's kinda hard to believe how concerned people are about me, but I have to admit, it's heartwarming, too.
       Anyway, I went back to my house for a minute, changed clothes, and grabbed my lesson plans.  When I made it to my classroom, I basically just collapsed into my chair.  The clock said 2:00 pm, and my class started in twenty minutes.  I couldn't help but smile.  Just another day of teaching English in Korea.

The Danger Zone

        If you know me, you know that I've always lived on the edge.  Where'd I grow up?  Saint Louis, one of the most dangerous cities in America.  Then it was off to Phoenix for university, a hotbed of drugs, gangs, and kidnappings. So while I've enjoyed the safety and seclusion of my little town in South Korea, I can't say I've ever been concerned for my life.  And that's just not acceptable.  But lucky for me, I heard about a magical, treacherous place that's only a few hours away by bus.  That's right.  I went to North Korea.      

        One fateful weekend, a few friends and I drove up to Seoul, and then took the two hour bus ride to the border.  You can't really get access to the area unless you're with the military or a tour group, and we went with the latter.  The area we were headed to is called the DMZ, or demilitarized zone. Basically, on each side of the border there's a one mile buffer zone for extra protection, I guess.  Our bus pulled into a little town outside right outside the DMZ so we could register with the military.  We were greeted by soldiers and barbed wire and signs warning of land mines.  At certain random points, we were told not to take pictures.  Apparently, South Korea is afraid the pics will end up on Facebook, North Korea will see them, they'll get a strategic advantage, and then the nukes will come out.  Or something.  Anyway, the most interesting thing we saw at this stop was the exchange bridge.  After the Korean war, 50,000 POWs were traded on this bridge, crossing the border by train.  Across the way, there was an abandoned amusement park/carnival.  Because it's Korea, of course.

The POW bridge...

...and the carnival to its right.

       Next, we headed closer to enemy territory and down into the tunnels.  Even after there was a truce and the war ended, North Korea started digging tunnels under the DMZ, presumably preparing for the next attack.  South Korea found a couple and naturally asked, "Umm...what are you doing?"  North's response:  "We're digging for coal."  Then they painted the walls black to make it more convincing.    Pretty sure they weren't fooling anyone.  According to our tour guide,  30,000 men could get through the tunnels and cross the border in an hour.  And so far, only four tunnels have been found.  They think there are more than twenty out there.
       My own experience in the tunnel wasn't bad, but it wasn't great, either.  They're pretty utilitarian, so there's not much more room than necessary.  In most places, it's about five or six feet wide and six feet tall, which meant I got to repeatedly hit my head on the rocky roof.  Thankfully, they gave us all hard hats, and I did try to hunch my back to avoid getting too many concussions.  Still, every few steps there'd be a THUNK CRACK THUNK, my head against the ceiling.  But I was alright with it.  If you're not in some physical pain, you're not getting the full North Korean experience.

At the end of the tunnel. 

       After the tunnels, we headed up to an observatory where we could get more of a bird's eye view of the border.  It was a nice clear day, and from our vantage point, we could see everything in the area.  The coolest part was the North Korean ghost town.  Right on the edge of their territory, the North built up this fancy prop town, trying to convince Southerners to defect.  But all the buildings are uninhabited, and without windows or interior rooms.  They're essentially empty shells.  I looked through a pair of binoculars for a few minutes, and I didn't see a single person over there, and it was three in the afternoon.  Who knows?  Maybe they were taking siestas.       

The view

North Korean prop town.

   

  

North Korea on the left, South Korean on the right.

       Along the way to our next stop, we got the chance to shop at a few touristy places.  We were given more cryptic orders about not taking pictures while crossing bridges or when a soldier came on the bus.  At the tourist shop, we figured we needed to experience some more North Korean culture, and we decided the best way to do that was through their alcohol.  What kind of alcohol does the North make, you ask?  The kind with deer antlers shaved into it.  At the beginning of the bottle, it actually wasn't that bad.  But by the end of it, it started to taste a little bit musty and toxic.  Overall, I'd say it was kinda awful.
      Our last stop on the tour was the train station which connects the South to Pyongyang.  Needless to say, this place doesn't get much traffic.  But it did gave us a great chance to use our imaginations.  We bought tickets, and then walked through the gates (past armed soldiers, of course) and out onto the platform.  After a few minutes of waiting for a train that was never coming, we got bored and went onto the tracks.  Then we started posing in boy band photos.  Some soldiers yelled at us after a while, but I think they enjoyed the show.

Getting ready for the big trip to Pyongyang!     

The road to North Korea.  I think this sign says "stop."

The newest Kpop sensation, the Kimchi Bad Men.

        In the end, we headed away from the border and back towards Seoul.  No bombs had gone off, nobody was attacked, and there were no murders.  It wasn't quite the adrenaline rush I had hoped for, but I guess I have to take what I can get.  So was there ever a point that I feared for my life?  Only after drinking that North Korean alcohol.  Shit was terrible.

The Candy Man

        Parties are supposed to be fun.  You eat some food, grab a few drinks, and usually it's a pretty good time.  Of course, school parties are gonna be a little different than the ones you’d throw in your own home, but the general rules should still apply.  So this Halloween, I decided to give my classes a little taste of American culture (and a lot of candy) by hosting one of my own. I figured it’d be a harmless, semi-educational way to spend the day. What I failed to realize, though, is that going to a party and creating a party are two very different things.
        First, I had to plan the whole event.  I wanted to play a few games and I needed materials, which led to the most insanely complicated approval process ever.  I had to write out a lesson plan, which I showed to my assistant, which we then brought to the head teacher, who gave it to the administrative dept., who approved it and gave it back to the head teacher, who finally took me shopping.  Jesus.  I mentioned it to the kids about a week beforehand, and they seemed really excited, so that was good.  But on the day of the party, I realized they might’ve been too excited.  My first graders rushed through the door, but instead of the usual five or six, there were sixteen.  Word had gotten out about my plans, and the other kids wanted in.  Can’t blame them, I guess.
        Our school had some costumes in a supply cabinet, so we passed those out and let the kids get dressed up.  Since we couldn’t do trick or treating the traditional way, we had to get a little creative.  I had them line up at my desk, knock on it, and say the magic words.  And then I gave them a bunch of candy.  I have to say, they seemed pretty happy about the whole deal.  We ended up spending the better part of the next twenty minutes “trick or treating.”

        After that, I had them play the old “guess how many pieces of candy are in the jar?” game.  If there had been five or six kids, the game might’ve worked.  But with sixteen, it was a mess.  The first few kids wrote down their guesses, and then started running around the room wreaking havoc and stealing candy.  I went over to try to corral them, but that only caused more problems.  Back at the guessing jar, I saw that kids were writing down their guesses, and then pulling out handfuls of candy for the road.  By the time the last person got up to guess, they could’ve easily counted the remaining pieces.  Mostly because there were two left.

        Next, I brought them back to their desks for snacks and drinks.  Of course, they immediately swarmed me and started shouting out what flavor of juice they wanted.  By the time I’d filled a few glasses, the first kid would finish his drink and be begging for more.  Eventually, I convinced them all to sit down, and that made it a little less chaotic.  For the rest of the time, though, I basically ended up going around the class like a waiter, refilling glasses and handing out food.  I put on a classic short film— Mickey Mouse and the Sorceror’s Apprentice—and they all screamed like I’d just put Teletubbies on or something.  They absolutely hated it, which I still can’t believe.  MICKEY MOUSE IS TIMELESS, YOU LITTLE BRATS.

        The fifth and six graders were next, and big surprise, there were quite a few more students than usual.  We did the costume and candy thing again, as well a toilet paper mummy contest.  I thought it was pretty fun, if only because it kept them standing still for a little while. 

Everybody likes toilet paper.

Harry Potter teacher.  Wand: chopstick, 9 inches.

Some Halloween decorations we made for class.  These are my drawings...

And these are from the kids.  Some really talented artists.  

        By the time my last class rolled around (3^rd and 4^th), I was exhausted.  We went through the whole thing one more time, and by the end, I was just giving out handfuls of candy to the kids.  But I think it’s justifiable.  After all, it’s my job to introduce them to American concepts like "excess."  See, I’m teaching them culture.

        Once it was all over, I picked up the last few candy wrappers and scraps of toilet paper that littered the floor, and then I headed home. I walked through the door, collapsed on my bed, and went to sleep.   It had been a long day of work, although I have to admit that I managed to have a little bit of fun, too.  But at the moment, I just needed some time to recover.  Like after any good party, really.

Pilgrimage To Busan

        I’ve been working pretty hard these days.  Lesson planning, teaching, and finding edible food have combined to take up most of my time.  Sure, I’ve gone out of town almost every weekend, and maybe I’ve only worked a total of sixty hours so far…anyway, the point is that I’ve been feeling worn down.  Stressed.  Exhausted.  Basically, I needed a vacation.  And wouldn’t you know it, my prayers were answered in the form of Chuseok, or Korean Thanksgiving.  As a result of that, I got six straight days off school.  I’m telling you, life is rough out here.

        But before I could set out on another adventure, one of the other teachers came by my house and surprised me with a Chuseok gift on behalf of the school.  I wasn’t expecting anything at all, so I felt really grateful and honored.  The gift came in this nice briefcase-looking thing, and it was heavy.  I had no idea what was inside, but it looked pretty nice.  After I thanked the teacher, I went back into my room to open it.  Inside, I found…a dozen cans of tuna and a couple more cases of spam.  Umm…OK.  Apparently, my friends received such gifts as socks and a “lifetime supply of seaweed.”  I’m not even gonna pretend to understand Korean culture.

        Anyway, after I put the gift away, I headed out to meet some of the guys in Busan.  Busan is the 2^nd biggest city in Korea, so it’s kind of metropolitan.  But it also has beaches, and that gives it more of a laid-back vibe than somewhere like Seoul.  As the great philosopher M. Cyrus pointed out, you get the best of both worlds.  It definitely seemed like my kind of place.  Once we all got there and met up, we headed to the beach to find a hotel close by.  In total, there were 7 guys in our group.  Here’s how the conversation went:

        “You think we can fit seven people in a hotel room?”

        “Of course.”

        And so we all crammed into a single hotel room, which had one queen sized bed and a bunch of sleeping mats covering the floor.  It went about as well as you would expect.  We dragged sand back from the beach every day.  We made a mess.  There was lots of snoring.  The bathroom…oh god, the bathroom.  I would say the place smelled like a locker room, but that would be an insult to locker rooms everywhere.  The best part is, over the course of the four days we were there, the cleaning lady never set foot in the room.  She must’ve just taken one look in there and thought, “Nope.  I’d rather quit.”  We were abandoned, left to wallow in our own filth.  It was pretty great.

View from the hotel room.  Trust me, you don't want to see the inside.

At the beach

        Anyway, what’d we do with all our free time?  Most days we hung out at the beach for a while and went swimming in the sea.  One day, we went hiking up a hill to get a view of Busan, and I have to say, this was the one view that was absolutely worth it (you can’t really tell in pictures, though).  On the way back down, we ran into some older Korean ladies, who immediately took a liking to me.  My friends (being the nice guys that they are) sped up, leaving me stranded with a trio of grandmas.

        “English-ee?” they asked me.

        “Yeah, English teacher.  English san-sang-neem.”

        “Ahhh!” they all screamed happily.  “How old?”

        “Umm…23,” I said.  They didn’t really get it, so I showed them on my hands. 

        “Oh, good!” said one of them.  Then she pointed at herself.

        “How old are you?” I said.

        She nodded.

        Honestly, she looked about sixty, but I knew how to handle this situation.  I went ahead and said, “35?” and held up the fingers to show them.

        All three of them cracked up.  They thought I was hilarious.  Then suddenly, the “35” year-old one started smacking me on the butt.  What the hell?!  I slid off to the side and tried to speed up. 

        “Englishee teacher!  Englishee teacher!” they all shouted.  They were waving for me to come back, too.

        “Sorry,” I said.  I pointed ahead.  “Have to go with friends.”

        Luckily, I was able to break away from them without any further groping.  I guess the lesson in all that is don’t give out compliments unless you really mean them.  Also, stay in large groups around older Korean women.

Busan from above.  I couldn't even fit the whole city in a single shot. 

        The next day, we ended up going to this rocky cliff/beach area, and that last lesson was strongly reinforced.  Along the beach, there was a giant row of these colorful little tent structures.  Out in front of them, there were a bunch of tubs filled with live seafood, which old women were trying to sell us.  They shouted and motioned for us to come closer, but we all said no thanks.  That is, except for one brave soul: my friend James.

        James is a hilarious British guy with a pretty vulgar sense of humor.  As he approached one of the ladies, he noticed that she had a bin full of some…phallically-shaped fish. 

        “How much for a penis fish?” he asked her.

        The lady just went on speaking in rapid-fire Korean. 

        “What if I buy two penis fishes?” he asked.  “Buy one, get one free?”

        Then, for just a moment, James turned to look back at us.  That ended up being his nearly-fatal mistake.  I have no idea what the old woman was thinking.  Maybe she was worried that she had lost his attention.  Maybe she wanted to mess with the foreigner.  Whatever the case was, for some reason she decided to pull out a live octopus from one of the tubs.  And then she held it right up to James’ face.  Judging by James’ reaction, she might as well have held up a hornet’s nest.  He booked it out of there.  He’s a pretty big guy, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a person move that fast.  It was priceless.  Thankfully, I had my camera out to capture the moment: 

Perfect.

        After we spent some time climbing around the rocks, we started getting hungry.  Inside the tents they had these mini-restaurants, so we decided to check one of those out.  Of course, after the earlier incident, we knew we had to go back and have dinner at that very same tent.  The guys all decided that they were gonna try the “live” octopus (more like very freshly murdered).  I chose not to, and I don’t really feel like I missed out.  The woman brought out a plate of tiny pieces of chopped-up octopus that were still squirming.  It looked pretty sick, but the guys all ate it.  The consensus: chewy and tasteless.  I’m not sure if the lady gave us the same octopus as before, but in the end, I feel like James got his revenge on the species.  

        Once they finished with the octopus, we all split a giant plate of scallops and mussels.  We got to bake the food in shells in the center of the table, and honestly, it was the best seafood I’ve ever had.  Fresh, tender, and it tasted delicious.  Even though there wasn’t a turkey or potatoes, I felt like this was a pretty reasonable substitute for a Thanksgiving feast, and I was lucky enough to be able to share it with some awesome people I’ve met in my time here.  It’s true- my home is thousands of miles away, and so are the people I’ve spent most of my life with.  But sitting around a table on the beach in Busan, watching the night fall…I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  I know what I’m thankful for.

Fantastic meal.

Back on the beach!

Busan at night.

       

Meet The Folks

        I used to have this dream where I was standing in front of a crowd and everyone was laughing at me.  I didn’t have any idea who the people were or what was so funny, but I knew it had something to do with me.  Before I could ever make sense of things, though, I’d always wake up.  At the time, I brushed it off as meaningless and unimportant.  Now, I’m starting to think it was a prophecy.
        A few days ago, we had parent-teacher conferences at our school.  I was kinda concerned about this because 1. I had no idea what to expect and 2. I knew almost nobody in my town spoke English.  So I went into the meeting room that night, and about thirty or forty parents were there, along with all the teachers.  The principal and VP started in on this giant lecture (all in Korean, of course), which meant I got to zone out for an hour.  But out of the blue, somebody started calling my name.  “No-AH.  No-AH.”  The head teacher motioned me up to the front.  I walked up to the little stage and stood right next to the VP.  She said something, and the entire crowd cracked up.  I stood there smiling and (I’m sure) looking incredibly uncomfortable.
        “No-AH.  Introduction,” said the head teacher.
        “Umm…” I said.  “My name’s Noah Pearlstone.  I am from America….I mean…USA.  This is my first time in Korea.  I’m very happy to be here.”  Everyone applauded, and then the VP said one more thing, and the whole crowd was laughing again.  I went back to my seat feeling pretty embarrassed.  Only later did I find out that she’d said, “We like Noah because he is tall and handsome.”
        The rest of the conference was a little on the uncomfortable side, too.  Some of the parents had students in my classes, so it was nice to meet them.  But the thing was, they'd always introduce themselves and then say their child's Korean name.  I had given all the kids English names on the first day (and never learned their Korean ones) so I had no idea who they were talking about.  Sample conversation:
        Other teacher: “This is Min Soo Kim’s parent.”
        Parent:  *smiles, waits*
        Me:  “Oh wow!  Very good student!  Very good!”
        And that scene repeated itself for the rest of the night.

        But what are the students actually like?  They’re wild and full of energy and they have two-second attention spans.  Basically, they’re just normal kids.  Teaching them has been challenging at times, but it’s always a lot of fun, too.  I have three classes: 1st and 2nd grade, 3rd and 4th, and 5th and 6th.  1st and 2nd know the alphabet and that’s pretty much it.  3-6th are all on about the same level- they have decent vocabularies, but they have no idea how to string sentences together.  I have a classroom assistant to help with the younger kids, but for the older ones I’m on my own.  At the beginning of the term, I also got to design my own curriculum and I make all my own lesson plans, so I can do whatever I want, more or less.  It’s actually a little bit more work, but it’s nice to have that freedom.
        I’ve also gotten to know some of the other people at my school outside of my classes.  There’s one other younger teacher here who can speak English, and he’s become my pretty good friend- we’ve gone out for dinner a bunch of times (often for pizza), and I’ll stop and talk to him when I see him at school.  Well, I guess his 3rd graders saw us talking and got curious about me, so they started asking him questions.  At some point, he must’ve mentioned that we ate pizza together, because the next day twenty-five 3rd graders swarmed me.  They had this crazed look in their eyes, too.
        “YOU LIKE PI-JA?!!” they all screamed.
        “Yes, yes, I like pizza.”
        “PI-JA!!!!!!!”
        “Yeah, pizza’s good.”
        “PI-JAAAAAAAA!!!”
        And then they ran away laughing and yelling.

My grade 1 and 2 students.   They're adorable.

My grades 5 and 6.  It's a little blurry because they're never standing still.

     
        After a month of teaching here, I still have only good things to say about my school, the people I've met, and my experience in general.  Like I told everyone at the conference, I’m just happy to be here.  It’s been like a dream come…
        Oh, give me a break.  I’m not that corny.

Easy On The Eyes

        Reading is hard.  You have to decode a language, process the information, and then (hopefully) find some meaning in it.  Honestly, it sounds terrible.  I'm getting a headache just thinking about it.  Now looking at pictures...that's a little bit easier.  So anyway, here are some of my favorite pictures from these past couple months that haven't made it into my other posts.  Of course, there'll be more words (and headaches!) coming soon.

This is Boseong, the land of green tea.

And here are the green tea fields.  No kidding, that's the first umbrella I've ever had.  

Watching from the woods.  Not creepy at all...

An old lady working the fields.

An old tractor working the fields.

I guess the point is there are lots of fields.

My classroom.  Smile, everybody!

You don't really see this in American schools.

In Jangheung, the closest city-ish place to me (forty minutes by bus).  Around fifty thousand people live here.

At the Jangheung market.  It was like three square blocks full of this.  I had no idea what I was doing there, and neither did this little girl.

The river that divides Jangheung.

And now we're in Seoul.  I think I was supposed to cross this street.  I chose to take a picture instead.

Seoul ice cream tower?

This is Wando, a small beach town in the south.  Met up with a bunch of my orientation group for a relaxing weekend.

We found a jellyfish!  Jellyfish look surprisingly disgusting.

Climbing a hill in Wando, on our way to a tower.

And here's the tower.  Fun fact: It's the 9th biggest building in the world.  OK, fine, it's actually only four stories tall.