Why I Love My Job (most days)

Why I Love My Job from danielle buckley on Vimeo.

Please disregard my purple underwear that make an appearance in this video. Because those are my fat jeans. And although I'm getting ChubbO again, the fat jeans still fall down (so I feel like there's hope left. Maybe?)

And yes, all choreography is original. Thank you. I know I'm talented and someone should pay me to make up dances for kindergartners. Actually, the "wooooaahh, wooooaahhhh"  bits are inspired by childhood ski trips in which Holly (The Sisda) used to cabbage patch it down the bunny hill all wrapped up in her snowsuit. So, thank you for your inspiration, Hols.

Plus also, aren't my kids adorable??

In Preparation

I mentioned before that I have secured a job teaching in Wonju, a city an hour and some change outside of Seoul. What I didn't tell you is that I'm teaching a seriously weird schedule and a serious spectrum of ages. I teach Monday thru Friday from 2:30 pm-9:00 pm. And I will be teaching (if I am remembering right) fifth graders through adults. At first, I was disappointed about the schedule, but did some thinking. Really, this works better for me as I am in a much better mood generally after the noon hour! This gives me my mornings at home with the husband. We've already been looking at some races to run when we return to Korea and we'll be able to get up early together and train together. We'll also have lunch together, which we're planning on making our "big" meal, instead of the usual big dinner. Kenny will be looking for a teaching job as well, one that has similar hours (keep your fingers crossed and those emergency prayer lines open!). So, despite my hardwired distaste for regimens and discipline in general, I am actually looking forward to a schedule and a new and interesting one at that.

However, I am also completely scared out of my mind. I am NOT a teacher. Something that the Korean English-worshipping population does not take seriously. At all. I mean, I have a year's teaching experience under my belt (which has substantially widened! I think I've gained all my weight back to be the size I was at the wedding!! AHHH! I hate America! Or myself and my lack of self-discipline and inability to delay gratification. But hating America is easier. So, yes. I hate America!!). But that year was spent barely surviving 3, 5, and 6 year olds who inspired many What the Crap Wednesday posts back in the day. I constantly felt I was letting my kids down and yeah, maybe they can read now, but I just don't feel that was my doing. That was more like a kids being kids and getting smarter by being alive kind of thing. So, I'm completely intimidated by the idea of stepping into a classroom again, as a teacher. To temper this intimidation, I decided to do some reading.

I found a book called Teach Like Your Hair's On Fire by an amazing man named Rafe Esquith. It's kind of his teaching manifesto and method in a short, well-written, and brilliantly inspiring book. He teaches in Los Angeles and every one of his students speaks English as a second language. But they do Shakespeare plays put to music that they play themselves and they make huge awesome art projects and they watch films and write about them and how they relate to their lives and they read novels and they have a classroom economic system that teaches them about how to earn, save, and spend money and THEY'RE IN THE FIFTH GRADE. They're like, 10, people. I haven't even gotten the hang of the whole earn, save, and spend thing yet! This book is serious. And it makes me wish I was a real teacher here, teaching all the subjects. But I'm not. I'm going to be a pseudo-teacher in Korea, teaching English.

This year should be better than last. I am at a serious school, Yonsei ELP, a partner with the Yonsei University in Wonju. They have a real curriculum that I will teach from, which I'm excited about. I always wondered how much better I could have done had I had sufficient teaching materials last year. And I'm not teaching spoiled, sometimes lovely, most of the time riotous small monsters called children. I mean, I guess fifth graders are still children, but you know what I mean. I'm not teaching preschool and kindergarten anymore. I read the book. Finished tonight actually. But I'm still not feeling super-duper prepared. And of course, why should I? I read one book.

But this was a good book, and I am walking away with more of a teaching ethic than actual material to teach with, which hopefully I won't need to get on my own. And there was one part that really confronted me with my own behavior lately. Esquith talks about the Six Levels of Morality and lists each level. In the sixth level, "I Have a Personal Code of Behavior and I Follow It" Level, the kids behave not for reward, not to please someone else, and not even just because they are considerate of other people. They behave because they know what the expect of themselves and they just do it. And I realized sometimes I'm not even coming close to functioning at Level VI. And it hit me here where Esquith discusses characters from Arthur Miller's play The Death of a Salesman:

Later in the play, as Willy desperately tries to understand his failures and those of his own children, Bernard shows up but is in a hurry. He is a lawyer and has a case. As he rushes off, Bernard's father mentions that the case will be tried in front of the United States Supreme Court. When Willy marvels that Bernard didn't mention this astonishing fact, Bernard's father tells Willy, "He doesn't have to. He's doing it."

And I thought of how many things I'm mentioning, but not doing. I want to shut up and just do it. And with that ladies and gents, I'm shutting up. I'm going to do.

But I'm still scared as all get out about teaching.

On the Other Hand

...there are these lovely children who have not yet become enamored with their own bodily functions. 

What the Crap Wednesday: School Days Edition

Today Jesse simply couldn't help himself. His lanky limbs constantly set to electric shock mode cannot stay still. He stood up behind his desk, turned around and stuck his butt out as far as it would go. He then waved it back and forth hitting each butt cheek with the corresponding hand as it went in that directions. After doing this while yelling something incomprehensible he put the thumb and forefinger of his left hand behind him, made the motion of grabbing a small walnut from his behind, said "Fart" in Korean and then moved the invisible fart held so carefully between thumb and finger in slow motion across his body. As he moved the offensive gaseous mixture out in front of him he made small mechanical noises as if his imaginary fart were being maneuvered by a tiny invisible engine instead of his long, thin arm. Then, he slowly got closer and closer to James' face and finally made contact with James' left eye, making a small exploding sound with his mouth. James doubled over with laughter and Jesse turned back around showing me his butt and smacking it once more while wagging it from side to side.  

Andrew carefully observed this magical classroom moment. He then proceeded to squat in his chair and pretended to poop into his cupped hands held underneath his behind. He then made a motion as if he were shoving this recent production into his mouth. He swallowed loudly. And then, he drew many deep breaths as if he were the Big Bad Wolf. He proceeded to blow this breath over all of his classmates. 

What the crap. No question mark. No incredulity. Just, what the crap. Because I am resigned to it now. I just sat there and watched the whole thing go down, my head in my hands and elbows on the desk. They have reduced me to a shell of a teacher who mostly screams, sighs, and then watches in helpless surrender as they act out their latest gross-fest. Four days left...

How To Make Koreans Smile Before Noon

Or,

How to Make Koreans Smile On the Subway:

Yep, I'm doing it. I'm rocking the polar bear hat. I have a better picture of the polar bear hat rockingness on the subway, but that picture is on our new camera. And our new camera's memory chip does not work with my memory chip thingy, even though my memory chip thingy says it does. So, when I figure that out, I'll put up the better, more appropriate picture. And perhaps I should be a more self-conscious blogger (as if that's humanly possible) and just wait for the right picture to write this, but whatev. I'm tired and I have a bajillion tons of gooey yuck in my sinuses that make my head hurt when I bend down to help my students write the letter A. So, sub-par picture it is. You get the idea, right? Adult-size white girl with huge eyes gets on the train and wears this hat with all the seriousness of a Louis Vuitton headpiece. They love it! I mean, everyone on the train is either pretending to be asleep so that they don't have to give up their seat to the older person standing in front of them, or they're staring at the foreigner. So, I decided to spice up the second option. I got close to 10 smiles on the way to work this morning, made Angie choke on her breakfast 김밥 when I walked into school, and even got a 귀 여워 (Korean equivalent of cute) from the Hyundai lady who bagged my kimchi and lone potato this afternoon. 

My kids LOVED it. They all squealed with glee as they exited the elevator this morning, reminding me of the plagues in the Old Testament that came in waves. I was giving out Polar Bear High Fives all day because the sides of the hat run long like a scarf and turn into little paw mittens. Today, as I rock and rolled it down the hall, celebrity style as only the foreign teacher can do, every child called out, "Polar Bear Teacher! Polar Bear Teacher!" Yep. I wore it all day long. And it was fabulous. And the guy at Tom n' Tom's who makes my tall iced caramel macchiato everyday (yes, iced even in the winter because I'm drinking it inside where there is heat!) gave me a huge smile. And normally he's so somber. I want to talk to him, have a real conversation besides just ordering, saying thanking, and telling him it was delicious. He is one of the reasons I am getting back into my seriously focused Korean studies. That and because all my expat friends are shaming me whenever we go out in public. And because one time, in March of 2007 to be exact, Kenny said, "When you speak Korean, it's like eating chocolate." 

It's one of those things where people think it's a joke and they're completely thrown off when  you see that you're wearing your ridiculous hat in all seriousness as if it were not a ridiculous hat. Although I know that my hat is ridiculous, I appreciate it and I will continue to wear the hat so that everyone on my morning commute will start calling me The White Polar Bear Hat Girl instead of just The Weird Girl when they think about me in their heads. Which is quite often, I'm sure. So, if you see a Polar-Bear-topped white girl bobbing around Seoul, give me a shout, yeah?

What the Crap Wednesday (The Friday Edition)

What the crap have I been up to? My absence here has caused my mother to doubt my existence, setting all sorts of horror scenarios into frenzied motion. She is worrying as only a mother can. The truth is boring.

What the Crap I've Been Up To:

1. I have spent time carefully planning my menu and schedule of eating out for the few days I'm at home. I am craving several particular things and plan on hitting all of my favorite restaurants, despite all obstacles. I am daydreaming about sweet tea, especially.

2. I am reading The Geography of Thought: How Asians and Westerners Think Differently...and Why by one Richard E. Nisbett who desperately needs to read William Zinsser's take on the exclamation mark. 

Dear Mr. Nisbett, 

I like your book. It makes the stops on the subway go by much quicker and also lends insight into the reasons why the crazies around me are behaving the way they do. But your exclamation points are ineffective and annoying. "Don't use it unless you must to achieve a certain effect...We have all suffered more than our fair share of these sentences in which an exclamation point knocks us over the head with how cute or wonderful something is. Instead, construct your sentence so that the order of the words will put the emphasis where you want it." 

Thank you very much.

3. Dexter has been eating hours of my time. I caught an episode on TV here from the first season and was compelled to view the entire season in order. It's a bit of an addiction, but one that is far less embarrassing than say, admitting you lost an entire week of your life to the Twilight series close to 2 months ago. 

4. I have been learning to cook and enjoy tofu using this tasty recipe from THE Pajeon Princess. I never liked tofu before, but apparently my tastes are still changing. I find that if I give the food a chance, take a few deep breaths before digging in, and remember the work it took to prepare it (although with this tofu dish the work is negligible), it usually tastes good. I've continued to cook for myself almost every night of the week. I now dub my attempts in the kitchen as part of WifeO Training. Lord, I have such a long way to go!

5. I am reading James Finley and I am numb to the ever recurring words, "interior, meditative states of awareness" and "arise, endure, and pass away." Finley is sometimes exhausting, but the gems I've found far outweigh those phrases heavy with repetition. 

6. I am still spending most of my day yelling and laughing at small monsters called children. A few phrases my 7 year olds have finally picked up on:

My words: "Stop picking your nose." Stated matter of factly about 6 times every 40 minutes.

Kid version: "Teacher! Teeeeeeeacher! Steve picking your nose! Picking your nose! Stop!" 

My words: "I. Don't. Care." 

Former Kid Response, "Teacher, what?"

Current Kid Response: A look of defeat, usually accompanied by a lowering and shaking of the head. 

My words: "Go away." 

Kid version: "Go awaaaaaaaaay!" screamed as they are passing through the doorway at the end of class.

7. Wasting time; going to the bathroom; bothering my fiance about quitting his job; not cleaning my bathroom; laundry; drinking caramel macchiato; drawing a large blue X across another day on the calendar before I go to bed. 

8. I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at my ring.

9. Wondering why more Americans don't look up the term socialism. Being frustrated with America's willingness to be distracted from the actual issues by emotional propaganda espoused on both sides of the political system. 

10. Missing my friends and family and counting down the days until I get on an airplane to come see them! And praying that my period does not coincide with any time spent in a cramped aircraft with inconvenient bathrooms. Praying in general. 

That about does it. Oh, and thinking about writing. Obviously I'm just thinking about it. I'm not doing it. Or you would be well aware of that, wouldn't you? Also, if I stay around constantly, I can't ever have these mini-comebacks, now can I? If you never know war, you cannot understand peace. So, if you never miss me, you cannot appreciate the ChubbO. 

Appreciate away. 

Teacher, Teacher

Kevin: "Teacher."

Danielle Teacher: "See, Andrew, this one is subtraction, minus, so the number gets smaller."

Kevin: "Teacher."

Danielle Teacher: "Yep. Good job, Andrew. That's how you do it. Exactly."

Kevin: "Teacher. Teacher."

Danielle Teacher: "Hold on Kevin, I'm helping Andrew." 

Kevin: " Teacher. Teacher. Teacher. Teacher. Teacher. Teacher. Teacher. Teacher."

Danielle Teacher: "OH MY GOSH, KEVIN! What do you want?

Kevin: "I eat this." (Holding up tiny scrolls of used eraser.)

Danielle Teacher: "What?"

Kevin: "I eat this." 

Danielle Teacher: "You eat that?"

Kevin: "Yes. I. Eat. This." (Slowly and deliberately as if English was not my first language.)

Danielle Teacher: "Eew. You eat that? Gross." 

Kevin: (Big grin).

Yep. This is my life. I was totally proud of his sentence, "I eat this." He's the smartest kid in the class. Too bad he's busy digesting bits of eraser. 

What the Crap Wednesday

So, I'm not one for discipline, as you can tell from the random posting here, despite all my sincere intentions to post 8 days a week. And I'm not promising a new weekly "themed" post. Unless I feel like it. End preamble. Which was one of the answers on Jeopardy today in the category Crossword "P".

I also knew the questions/answers, "What is Carbon-14?" and "Who is Matthew Perry?" Why I knew that Carbon-14 was used to date fossils surprised me, for I am stringently opposed to all things math and chemistry related. Anyway... what the crap?

I started my day rolling out of bed at 8:20, the time I'm usually getting dressed and about to head out the door. I'm seriously sleep-deprived, and for some reason I just couldn't muster any sense of actually caring about my job in order to propel me to my feet at a decent time. I'm not sleeping. What the crap?

One of my 6 year old kids came up to me today while I was sitting on the floor, looked down my shirt, double fisted my breasts, and then turned around to his classmates rubbing his own chest vigorously and shouting something in Korean. What the crap?

Jun, one of my 6 year olds passed me in the hallway, tilted his head to the side, gave me a very cool look and said, "What's out, Danielle Teacher?" It took me a minute to realize that he was trying to say, "What's up?" I've been trying to teach my kids the whole "What's up/ Nothin' much" dialogue. Not so much for educational purposes as for my own personal entertainment. I also taught them the "Back it up/ back it up/ You got it/ You got it" bridge from the Gwen Stefani song Crash off her Love, Angel, Music, Baby album, using it whenever I want them to scoot back or move in that direction. Just for kicks. "What out, Danielle Teacher?" Awwwwwwww.... I mean...What the crap?

While we're on the topic of the short people, there is a boy in the 4 year old class who is now calling me Thank You Teacher. Usually at the end of every class, the Korean teachers make all the kids say, "Thank you Teacher!" And I'm not ever this kid's teacher because I keep my distance from the wee ones, but I do co-teach a special after-school class that he's in. So, instead of calling me Danielle Teacher, he calls me Thank You Teacher. "Thank You Teacher, look!" No matter how many times I tell him my name is Danielle, not Thank You, he insists on calling me that. What the crap? (Even though it's kind of cute. I'm becoming more and more immune to the cute. Call me insensitive if you want to. I call myself a teacher of small monsters. It happens.)

In other educational news, half the air-conditioners aren't working again. Specifically the one in the teacher's office, where I spend most of my day. Despite the fact that it's hot outside and I've already soaked the armpits of my shirt with pancake syrup (see previous post in order to insert inside joke type of snort here) by the time I've reached school, there is no hope for them to dry or for me to cool off when I am forced to spend half my time in The Oven. (Meghan, I'm making a sign tomorrow if it's not fixed and putting it on the door. It will read, Welcome to The Oven. Burn, Baby, Burn.) Also, this whole sweating all day thing totally makes my wearing-that-shirt-about-three-more-times-this-week-before-I-wash-it practice obsolete. Thus, costing me more time and money doing laundry. And I smell like deodorant all day. What the crap, Seoul Summer? What the crap?

Not a Wednesday incident, but still WTCW worthy. I was sitting next to Cuddle Ajumma the other day. Her friend was obviously lacking in her seat-stealing skills because she was standing in front of Cuddle Ajumma. It was almost my stop, so I thought I'd get up a little early and keep someone else from being attacked by this Less-Than-Expert Ajumma. I began to stand up, and before I had stood up all the way, Cuddle Ajumma scoots over INTO my seat, UP UNDERNEATH ME. I was basically sitting in her lap. Everybody say it with me now.... WHAT. THE. CRAP.

Anyone else out there having a What the Crap Wednesday?

All Day Rage

Yep, you read that right. ALL. DAY.
Do you know why, dear readers? No, why Danielle, and where the heck have you been??
Oh, thanks for asking. Well, I was sick and then I was lazy, and then I hiked in the mountains to a waterfall, and then I was lazy some more. Anyway, so rage. My absence here sadly does not signify the absence of my daily rage. (Although, my Seoul Metro-specific rage was reduced incredibly as I read Leslie Marmon Silko's novel Ceremony. I almost missed my transfers and stops the week I read it. It was amazing. I was oblivious to the uninhibited squishing and toe-stomping and elbow-boobing taking place during my morning commute. I'm now copying the book by hand in order to know what it feels like to write the perfect sentence, string a bunch of those together into a perfect paragraph, culminating in the most wonderful and moving novel I've read to date. And people, I've read a lot of good novels.)

No, no, rage is here and rampant. Yeah, you said that before, Chubster, get to the point.
Yes, the point: Air conditioner.
Oh, we have them. However, we're not supposed to be using them. I'm sorry, what? Why? What is the point of an air conditioner that you can't use? Hello? "But it's not good for the kids." That's the largest load of crap I've ever heard in a Korean accent before. I'm sure the kids are sweatin' out the summer months in their penthouse apartments in Gangnam with no air con. Sure. I believe that. And: THE A.C. IN THE OFFICE DOESN'T REALLY WORK. It comes on. The vents open and it makes this comforting whirring that assures you cool air will soon be circulating in our tiny square foot of office space. But no. Lies. All deception and deceit. The cool air never makes an appearance. The humidity rises and rises until I have those greasy strands of hair falling across my forehead that are so oily from my sweat it makes me want to vomit every time I catch one out of the corner of my eye. Also, then I smell like deodorant. Which is better than smelling like B.O. but it's still not pleasant. Especially when you're inhabiting a country where the women refuse to perspire and when the do squirt a few beads, it smells like... nothing. Yeah, medical phenomenon. They. Don't. Smell. Well, sometimes the old people smell like kimchi, but that's more their breath and clothing than their armpits. Anyway, I'm hot. All day.

Keun Ha calls me a baby sometimes. And I'm never offended because he doesn't mean it like I'm immature or can't take a joke. He means it like I'm one of the most simple people walking on this earth. When I'm hungry, I'm grumpy. Feed me, I'm happy. End of story. When I'm hot, I'm grumpy. Air condition me, I'm happy. End of story.

Oh, and the kids. My poor kids. They are sweating like we're in a sauna. Want your kids to learn English while they sweat like boxers steaming in trash bags before the weigh-in? Send 'em on over to Haba. We'll roast 'em for no extra charge. And in fact, we'll throw in a heavily perspiring teacher with large round pit stains and oily hair to get them to understand the difference between pot and pots. ("The s is magic, see! It makes MORE!" Blank stares abound.) We'll get them to stand up and sing that stupid rainbow song (pink is NOT in the rainbow people) to keep their rather large and round heads from hitting the small desks in front of them. We'll say "Yes you may," every time a child summons enough energy to creep out of the dense fog that rises from melting kindergartners to whisper, "CanIhavesomewater, please?" Got a chubbo on your hands, parents? One of those weird medical miracles of a Korean whose body fat registers above 1%? Forget Richard Simmons and those Jazzercise For Toddlers videos! Send them to Haba! Sweating profusely throughout the day is sure to banish that childish pudge forever. (We'll stop before they lose the cheeks though. Until I came to Korea, I never understood people pinching cheeks. Oh. My. Gosh. I am a Korean-kid-cheek-pincher.)

Okay, end facetious ranting. To sum up, a lovely list for your reading enjoyment:

Recent Rage Inducers:
Lack of air con at school ALL DAY.
Oily piece of hair touching my face.
Being hot. Walking by manager's office to see his little personal desk fan keeping him cool.
My penchant for Ice White Mocha, the most calorific drink in the joint.
Not having enough stuff to teach with and fumbling for materials constantly.
When 5 people get in the elevator with me and they all live below floor 9.
Everyone on the Metro the same time as me this afternoon.

Recent Rage Reducers:
The teacher who hunts the A.C. remote and turns it on high for me.
Really tacky hair clips from Kenny's mom that are gold and sparkle, clash with my jogging pants, and keep oily pieces of hair out of my face for most of the day.
Ice White Mocha.
Food.
Food.
Food.
Boyfriend.
Food.
Air conditioning.

Just a Glimpse

I'd like to give you just a glimpse into the nature of the Korean kids I teach. Some of them are lovely and some of them just need to be smacked in the face. For example, last Friday I was wearing a band aid on my thumb because of aforementioned Shopping Incident (see previous post). My thumb wasn't all bloody or anything, but it still wasn't nice to look at because of the bruising and the black crust around my cuticle. And it hurt. So I was protecting it from the environment. Friday is my day to stand at the door and greet the kids (the biggest time-suck the school has come up with yet! I stand around for close to half an hour just to say "Good Morning! How are you today?" Really stupid, but whatever). So, Friday morning comes and Min Jae climbs off the elevator and runs to hug me. Min Jae is 2. He sees my thumb and points and says, "Ouch?" I say, "Yeah. Ouch." Then he proceeds to grab my thumb and squeeze as hard as he can, asking again, "Ouch?" I jerk my hand away from him and say, "Yes! Ouch!" He really hurt me and do you know what the little snot did? Can you guess what he did? Instead of saying, "Sorry teacher" or being sad about hurting me, he just looks up at me and laughs. Yep. He laughs at my pain. Giggles, actually. Is really pleased with himself.

That's all I have to say about that.