tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51837825476452010202024-03-05T15:41:36.052+09:00Lori Teacheronce upon a time, a girl decided to move to Seoul to impart knowledge on young Korean minds. she became known as Lori Teacher. this is the story of that girl.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-80985933442916285722009-07-10T13:36:00.003+09:002009-07-10T13:43:35.842+09:00A snake got loose in COEX!I asked some of my second-grade students to write a story about a snake getting loose in COEX, the giant underground mall near our neighborhood. This is what Luna came up with for the second part of her story--with all the cute mistakes intact, of course!<div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I am glad to see you again. Now I am anaconda! I still live in COEX.COEX is good place. But still everyone run away from me. Thousands of people tried to catch me, but their fear is more bigger then thinking of catching me. So, I am, living behind cloths store. Soon, someone see me. He was frozn like ice. After four hour, he called 119. [119 is the emergency police number in Korea, like 911 in the US.] After all, many people was frozn like ice. So I slithered and wiggled slowly. I went to the aquarium. One crazy shark (the biggest shark) came out from the aqurium. I was 12mt, so I ate it. [I have no idea what "12mt" is--maybe 12 meters long?] It was very tasty. I want to be free. I will be free!</div><div><br /></div><div>I have been free! My wish is cometrue! Someone gave me a house like jungle. I love this place. Because everyone likes me. Execpt, one person. He is police. Every day police chase me. He chase me because when he catch me, he hate snake. So I went to the theater. Movie was starting now. The name of the movie is 'The little mermaid.' I was looking for Lori. Soon, I saw Christine [another student in the class]. The next person I see, he was Jimmy! But Jimmy couldn't seeme because there was a lot of people. I found Justin to! I went to justin. Soon, he numbed and scream like frog. He said, "It is boa constrictor!" Justin knows I'm boa constrictor. But true is I'm anaconda! Ha,Ha,Ha!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-13260162942530159322009-05-29T16:32:00.002+09:002009-05-29T16:34:46.591+09:00One more time: "awww!" (But for another reason...)Title: My grandfather died<div>(a picture diary)</div><div>by Dannypants [once again, the last part was appended by me!]</div><div><br /></div><div>Today my grandfather died. So we went to a funeral hall. This is how grandfather died. First, he is 95 years old. Second, he is sick. Third, he is died. I'm so sad. That mean I can't meet him anymore. I thought in sky country My grandfather will be okay. And he is very old. (Not that Julian's grandmother. She is 97 years old!) Do you think my grandfather will be okay in sky country?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-45564406140613451052009-05-29T16:20:00.004+09:002009-05-29T16:22:20.497+09:00All together now: "awwww!"Title: Baseball<div>(a picture diary)</div><div>by Steve-o [the latter two characters were appended by his teacher; he has since adopted them. Score!]</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I played baseball with my father. My father great played the baseball. My father hit the ball and ball is homerun. I thought he is power ful. me too. ^.^ He helped me when I studied. He is very kind. I love him. I love baseball.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-45404357961686547982009-05-15T14:14:00.002+09:002009-05-15T14:16:02.286+09:00Mexico peoples is bad.Title: I look Mexico peoples<div>(a picture diary)</div><div>by Alex</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I look Mexico people. They play mexico instrument. This is very bad. Because sing is very big and bad. trumpet is very big voice And Mexico peoples has pig influenza. I don't like mexico an annual tide</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-15541722090005598632009-04-29T13:51:00.002+09:002009-04-29T13:59:16.671+09:00"These kids today," declares kidI have a hunch that Ann has been listening to lots of grumbling adults lately. What do you think? Submitted into evidence: her picture diary from this past weekend. :c)<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Title: About Leonardo da vinci</div><div><br /></div><div>Leo borned in 1452. He lived in Italy. He was an artist, an inventor, a mathematician, a scientist, and a psychologist. He drew 'MonaLisa' and 'the Last supper.' And he invented an airplane, a helicopter and lots of farming muchines and weapons. why aren't a person like Leo today? Long time ago, there wasn't computer and internet games. But, today lots of students play computer games or internet. I want students don't play and study hard and become a famous person like Leo.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Incidentally, I'm super-impressed by Ann's writing. To show you the contrast, here's the picture diary of one of her classmates:</div><div><br /></div><div>Title: Today teacher give test paper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today teacher give test paper. The test is very difficult. I hundred is math and Korean. I don't like souial studies. Because It is very difficult. But science is commonness. In my class everyone didn't had a hundred.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-44005356387533274922009-01-13T22:57:00.001+09:002009-01-13T23:01:11.479+09:00Yay, human rights.I'm glad to see that <a href="http://www.iht.com/articles/2009/01/11/asia/korea.php">freedom of speech is alive and well</a> in South Korea....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-73400724392761925202009-01-05T13:07:00.006+09:002009-01-05T13:16:40.615+09:00My Irish eyes are smilin'!<div>I'm an Irish citizen!!!!<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWkHK1m3Yz3SKBRiydRAEMAKJEQb8ITiCJwJXXkj7uomKtCOoM5KbPADHQr80tIVoBlm2qYvq7Toe2xcPC1EzT80swThMD6p9QyuOr8rOd9OA8KFXDTRtw1GL2Zme0TKY2V7YaOPkaNFE/s1600-h/irish-flag.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWkHK1m3Yz3SKBRiydRAEMAKJEQb8ITiCJwJXXkj7uomKtCOoM5KbPADHQr80tIVoBlm2qYvq7Toe2xcPC1EzT80swThMD6p9QyuOr8rOd9OA8KFXDTRtw1GL2Zme0TKY2V7YaOPkaNFE/s400/irish-flag.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287657379531579714" /></a><br />A little backstory.<br /><br />Both of my paternal grandparents were born in Ireland--one in modern-day Northern Ireland, and one in the modern-day Republic of Ireland (although both were born before the split). They both <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">emigrated to New York as adults, </span>where they met and got married. My dad was born there.*<br /><br />Two and a half years ago, I mentioned to a co-worker of mine that two of my grandparents were Irish. He told me that I could apply for Irish citizenship through them, but it seemed improbable. Then, about a year ago, I was bored (okay, FINE...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I was procrastinating</span>) so I googled it. Turns out he was right! According to Irish law, my dad's already considered a citizen because he was born to Ireland-born citizens; he just wasn't on the books as such. I, being born to an Irish citizen (albeit one born in the States), was eligible to apply for citizenship. Which would then give me EU citizenship. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Hot DANG.</span><br /><br />Starting this past March, I began assembling the documents required for my application. Basically, they included birth, marriage, and death certificates (as applicable) for me, my dad, and whichever of his parents I chose; I had to prove that my grandparent was born in Ireland, that my dad was his/her son, and that I'm his daughter. I also assembled official copies for my sister and for my dad's Irish passport application. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">The process probably cost me over a hundred hours worth of work,</span> mainly due to my grandparents' elusive marriage record. Also employed in the effort were my dad's fabulous cousin Dorothy, who hunted down my grandmother's 1910 birth certificate for me in Ireland (thanks, Dorfee!), and my sister and father, who dutifully copied and notarized and mailed whatever I required. And my dad financed all that document-gathering. Because he is wonderful and generous, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">not to mention handsome and charming!</span><br /><br />Fast forward to about a month ago. Finally, eight months after I began the whole effort, we had a complete little army of stamped and watermarked certificates. I asked my dad, who was back in Atlanta, to photocopy the whole shebang and send it off to the New York consulate, where it would take up to a year to process--and once I had my citizenship, I could apply for a passport. That time frame was less than ideal, since I'd ideally like to teach in Germany once my contract in Korea runs out in July, and it's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">approximately 34,927 times easier</span> to get a job in Europe if you're a European than if you're an American. (Thus, most of the basis of the appeal for me of Irish citizenship.)<br /><br />Then, my dad had a brilliant idea: I live in Seoul now, so couldn't I send the application to the Irish embassy in Seoul? Surely they received far fewer citizenship and passport applications than the New York consulate did; maybe Seoul could process it more quickly than New York could. I e-mailed the embassy and told them about New York's up-to-one-year waiting time. The response was even better than I had hoped: not only was I allowed to apply through the Seoul embassy, but I could do my citizenship and passport at the same time--and it would take eight or nine weeks for both. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">My dad mailed me all my documents the next day.</span><br /><br />Before I left Seoul for Christmas vacation, I subwayed over to the embassy and delivered all my documents. They told me the website where I could check on the progress of my passport application, and I wrote down my application number. Today, two weeks after that, I got home from vacation and saw the note with my application number. I went online to see if the passport office in Dublin had received my application yet, and this is what I saw.<br /><br />Application Number Entered: 10126664624<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">S</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">tatus: Application approved</span> on 02/01/2009. Passport will issue to your Local Office within 10 days.<br />Issue Date: 05/01/2009<br />Last Updated: 02/01/2009<br /><br />Not only have they received my application, but it's been approved! That means that my citizenship application has already been approved, too!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> After all that work, I'm finally an Irish citizen!!!!!</span><br /><br /><br /><br />This is great news, and not only because of the employment opportunities it opens up for me for next year. My grandfather died before I was born, but my grandmother lived close to us almost my whole life and was a constant presence in it. She died two and a half years ago--actually, it was the same summer that I learned that I could apply for citizenship. (She was almost 96 years old!) Since she died, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I feel like I've really been getting in touch with my Irish roots</span>, as hackneyed as that sounds. First there was her memorial service in Atlanta; then, four months later, we drove her ashes up to New Jersey to bury them next to my grandfather, which included another little memorial service with lots of extended family and live Irish music. And eight months after that, my dad took my sister and stepmother and I to Ireland, where we spent time with tons of extended family and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">even got to see the houses where both of my grandparents were born! </span> Pictures can be found <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030792&l=173bf&id=28300070">here</a>.<br /><br />That trip was really great for me. Finally, I felt like I understood a bit about the context from which my grandparents came, and I felt so much more in touch with my Irish roots. That was June of 2007; the following March, I began the citizenship process. And today, I found out that my citizenship was granted. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I couldn't be prouder to say that I'm Irish.</span><br /><br /><br />To commemorate the occasion, here's one last picture. My sister and dad and I are standing in front of my grandmother's one-room schoolhouse--did I mention that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">she was born in 1910</span>?! The schoolhouse is still there!--reenacting an old-timey class photo, complete with serious expressions and painfully upright posture.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxxgBvcK4tfREanR2QfDKrqd8HnrdYfOR9BKD3Q0oO17Q3cafn2QtIAUMKeyZpd3B0jhbDf0hG4mYuS-ZIkOIkkvU5POCA4og94t649oLeVBxOV0d00_RunR1dmjv98LtHY8NdNAGZGYp/s1600-h/schoolhouse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxxgBvcK4tfREanR2QfDKrqd8HnrdYfOR9BKD3Q0oO17Q3cafn2QtIAUMKeyZpd3B0jhbDf0hG4mYuS-ZIkOIkkvU5POCA4og94t649oLeVBxOV0d00_RunR1dmjv98LtHY8NdNAGZGYp/s400/schoolhouse.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287657118219280770" /></a><br />This year's Saint Patrick's Day is going to be a fun one FOR SURE. :c)<br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />*Over the course of my research, I noticed that my grandparents got married in July of 1952, and my dad--their only child, born when they were both in their forties--was born in January of 1953. When I realized the brevity of that interval, I asked my dad if he knew what that meant. And he, ever the witty one (he learned it from me), acknowledged it. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">"I was a premie,"</span> he said with a sideways smile.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-41796187375713664872008-12-17T14:06:00.002+09:002008-12-17T14:10:34.365+09:00Teacher's pet or domestic slave?Dear, sweet Andy--one of the kids in my <a href="http://loriteacher.blogspot.com/2008/12/stupid-snot-faced-kids.html">Monday/Wednesday/Friday first grade class</a>--once wrote his weekly "picture diary" about helping his mom clear the table and wash dishes after dinner. I told him <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">it was really nice of him</span> to help out his mom like that.<div><br /></div><div>That was about two months ago. Since then, all of Andy's picture diaries have involved manual labor and the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">sheer glee</span> it brings him. I figure either he's kissing up to me because of my erstwhile praise....or he's a modern-day Cinderella. Or Cinderfeller.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Picture Diary</div><div>Andy, 12/12/08</div><div><br /></div><div>After I finished my homework I fold the laundry. I fold the towel, underwear and panties. It was very fun.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>No laundry-folding until you finish your homework, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">and I MEAN IT!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-13179209735463836682008-12-17T13:39:00.004+09:002008-12-17T14:05:20.553+09:00Stupid snot-faced kids.I forget if I mentioned this on my blog, but a couple months ago my boss was really riding me for about three or four weeks. One of my classes happened to have a high concentration of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">parents who Really Care A Lot About Their Children's Supplementary English Education</span>....and observed classes and commented ALL the time. I only started teaching these wee-wahs in September, but apparently they've nitpicked every teacher they've had at my school, asking for little tweaks and complaining about curriculum changes until the counselor--the Korean who serves as an ambassador between the teachers and parents--quits. Seriously, there have been three or four counselors who have quit in recent months, and they've all had this one class. The kids are totally fine; it's just the parents who are.....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">involved</span>. Ahem.<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, for a while there my boss was talking to me every single day about little things she wanted me to change. She started observing my classes, requesting changes in my syllabi, and all that. It all ended okay; after a while, she was satisfied and moved on to some other poor teacher. She has a habit of doing this; <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">she'll focus on one foreign teacher at a time, heap criticism on them until they're drowning, and then move on.</span> The majority of her advice and requests are legitimate and helpful; it's just the quantity and frequency--and often, the style of delivery--that can make being in her hotseat so unpleasant. Poor Roommate Kyle is currently in the hotseat. I make him <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">lots of cups of sympathy tea</span> when we get home.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the heat is off of me for now, and I haven't heard a peep from the parents of this one class in weeks. Woohoo! I'm writing about them now because I just graded a spelling and vocabulary test I gave them. For being in first grade, they're pretty advanced in their English ability. They're certainly nowhere close to native speakers, but they do pretty well. Plus, they actually <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">do their homework</span>. I can't tell you how much easier that makes my job.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For their weekly spelling-and-vocab tests, they have twenty words they have to spell, and they have to match definitions with eight of those words. Plus, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I'm a complete stickler</span> for capitalization and punctuation; if there's a dash missing or a lowercase letter where there should be an uppercase letter, I take off half a point. On this particular test, they had words like leather, brighter, Indian reservation, the Rocky Mountains, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">and--the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">piece de resistance</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">--the Mississippi River.</span> (It was mentioned in one of our textbooks.)</div><div><br /></div><div>And do you know what? Out of seven first-graders, ONE missed that word. She forgot one of the "iss"es. The rest of them nailed it--capitalization and all. In fact, with two bonus words,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> my little rockstars had an average grade of 100</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>WHO ARE THESE MUTANT CHILDREN???</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-61891018043447010792008-12-13T01:51:00.002+09:002008-12-13T01:53:10.760+09:00New pictures (with stories!) on facebook!Go <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046436&l=5614a&id=28300070">look</a>! You don't need to have a facebook account.<div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-69110740011138721062008-11-20T01:49:00.002+09:002008-11-20T01:52:21.869+09:00BILLY JOEL CONCERT AAAAAH!!!!!!!On Saturday, I went to see Billy Joel in Seoul. It was EPIC. And I really should type out the whole story for y'all, but honestly, I don't feel like it. Sorry! HOWEVER, I put up pictures on facebook and captioned them copiously, so you should <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045466&l=11cf1&id=28300070">check out that album</a>. You can look at the pictures even if you don't have a facebook account. I hope you'll go check them out! It truly was an amazing experience, and I have some really fun pictures from it.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-45898218807824715532008-11-19T01:13:00.003+09:002008-11-19T01:16:50.363+09:00Adventures in Grading: part epic punishment.Picture Diary<div>by Polly</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Today my family sat on the sofa. We watched on TV. It was very fun. I was looking for it many hours. I watched and watched. Then my father came with my younger brother. I said that I had to watch on TV. My mother was angry to me. "Polly, you must be nice to your father!" I was so scared. I had to go out of the house. I walked slowly outside. Tac... Tac... Tac... I cried and thought, 'I don't know how to do.' 2 minutes went by. I jumped 5 times on the ground. My nose was cold, and my ears were cold too. I wanted to go in. Soon the door was opened and my mother said that I could come in to the house. I was so sad in that time.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-60478492400506511932008-11-13T12:57:00.002+09:002008-11-13T13:02:34.726+09:00Sympathy for Korea's high school seniors.Today is the college entrance exam. High school seniors all around the country take this exam, which determines which college they will get into, which determines what jobs they'll get, which <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">determines their quality of life</span> for the next....oh, seventy years. Korea puts a LOT of stock in credentials, and this test is one of the most pivotal things that a Korean citizen does in his or her entire life.<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://roboseyo.blogspot.com/2008/11/peak-of-suicide-season-prayer-for.html">An excellent post on Roboseyo</a> details the exam and its impact on society. There's also an embedded video by <a href="http://www.seoulglow.com/">SeoulGlow</a>, wherein Michael Hurt, a celebrity blogger in Seoul, interviews high schoolers about their feelings on the exam. The post and the video are quite compelling; I hope you'll take a look and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> let me know what you think in the comments</span>.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-47453610846972669762008-11-10T21:48:00.003+09:002008-11-10T22:03:10.589+09:00Korea is trying to kill me.A few weeks ago I had pinkeye. A little over a week ago I caught a cold that made me hoarse and hack-y and snotty, and I'm STILL coughing so much at night that it keeps me awake for an hour. Then, on Friday, I ate some pizza at Costco and got a wicked case of food poisoning. I'll spare you the details, except to say that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">my body turned itself inside out</span> trying to get rid of whatever was in that pizza. I spent almost the whole weekend shuttling back and forth between the couch and the bathroom.<div><br /></div><div>I'm pretty sure Korea's trying to kill me.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's a good thing my immune system is so committed to its job, because I have Big Things coming up. Well, one Big Thing in particular: BILLY JOEL. I'm going to a Billy Joel concert (in Seoul!!!) on Saturday! I forget how much I've told you all about that whole situation, so in case I'm being redundant, here's the short(ish) summary.</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Tickets were kind of expensive.</div><div>2) I couldn't find anyone who liked Billy Joel enough to pay 88,000 won for the cheap seats.</div><div>3) I did a search for people who like Billy Joel on facebook.</div><div>4) I sent a bunch of people messages, asking if they were interested in going to the concert.</div><div>5) Several of them replied ecstatically and wired me 88,000 won.</div><div>6) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I now hold tickets for me and 12 strangers to go see Billy Joel on Saturday.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>How awesome is that??? It's a bit of a social experiment; I hope these people turn out to be as cool as they seem from their facebook messages. :c)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-70253621275357064062008-11-03T23:48:00.002+09:002008-11-03T23:54:23.662+09:00Adventures in Grading, part Creep-tastic<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Picture Diary</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">by Polly</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Today I washed my mother's feet.First I'd like to wash my younger brother's feet, but my mom said "Polly, please wash my feet." I didn't want to do it but I did it. My mother's feet feet were beautiful but too big. I want to have big and beautiful feet as my mother. I will drink milk and do exercise to be like my mother's feet. I want to go to the park after my feet are changed.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I also want to swim in the river after my feet are big!</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What the poo?! I showed this to Kyle, who was seriously disturbed by it. I pointed out that this was probably part of a foot-washing ceremony at church, but then Kyle noted that the picture that goes with the journal is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> definitely of a bathroom, complete with toothbrushes and a shower.</span> So Polly indeed seems to have been required to wash her mother and brother's feet. But hey....if she's lucky, at least she'll end up with giant flipper feet when she's grown up!</div><div><br /></div><div>....?!?!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-12659823494072199812008-10-29T11:57:00.002+09:002008-10-29T12:00:39.261+09:00Willpower: 1. Creeping obesity: 0.I consider it a personal triumph that for the past month and a half I have walked past Paris Baguette, our local bakery, on my walk to and from school but didn't give in until today.<div><br /></div><div>I win!</div><div><br /></div><div>Incidentally, the chocolate croissant was delicious.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-17949078210933776862008-10-26T21:42:00.004+09:002008-10-26T22:15:37.371+09:00Korean marketing gimmicks are brilliant.Last night, several of the teachers at my school went out for an wine buffet. For 15,000 won (which, right now, is $10.78), we drank as much wine as we liked. It was EXCELLENT. It was an evening of sparkling conversation, quality people, and copious amounts of the loveyness that red wine always brings.<div><br /></div><div>On our way there, we passed a dancing coffee cup. It was dancing to the Wonder Girls song <a href="http://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=VF-AtIugofs">"Nobody,"</a> which is popular here to an unholy degree. Not to say that I don't enjoy it, because I totally do. (I can't help it! It's INFECTIOUS.) The video I linked to takes two minutes to get to the actual song, but the backstory is kind of cute, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway! Dancing coffee cup: check. Naturally, I stopped to take a picture and a video.</div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-MeHudRsKv70A01iwFySdTQeShaUVEEsqRMDia9RvVkhD3T3wk128ds3sNZEaRvwrdgzGkrRX2qiwYY5xqw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>The best part is, I didn't know that Jess and Eric were going to start dancing with the coffee cup! And they didn't know I was taking a video! Perfect serendipity, no? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">And when the coffee cup starts air-humping Eric (I mean, who can blame it?): simply priceless.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Then, we drank some wine!</div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnEWwIuL-Sm7NY3Drn51e-9ONcZeATodLU9dyriFQedV9sn2IOTSCxKTFbr_1nIfFQGH5byR03-cngYwePc_lr_77GYVA2SAbrkSbP0yp25zuHb7l7Rm72L_NBOnYDZmvtykc-5oalgoW/s400/CIMG5467.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261447483392959586" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lUeHRNtqgKfjeMnJu9okLKKBeR7NPqTG61yDYZUHYfQLstS_NYBONp4o1OOoXLiqL3O21fTQZuk6qeL0pe6qu_AIyB8zmMeutGaniOJZiAiB9fsA2Y7dEJUNnTiQb2s6K0g69uSFYDxp/s1600-h/CIMG5480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lUeHRNtqgKfjeMnJu9okLKKBeR7NPqTG61yDYZUHYfQLstS_NYBONp4o1OOoXLiqL3O21fTQZuk6qeL0pe6qu_AIyB8zmMeutGaniOJZiAiB9fsA2Y7dEJUNnTiQb2s6K0g69uSFYDxp/s400/CIMG5480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261447515237519554" /></a><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAJsxKHiBGSuoxPgG_CrHMGtx4NX0S0QCMIgCcuRtHXyKvs-oyq68HS9apz8wXOFBt2QmRZ2XvZdPnENveCfB-ft8CZXGyUP5KQeoJhbyr48QW_-397kYmBYVAPFzIGsLoff2CD5xHwAy/s400/CIMG5478.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261447496913859442" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGIETXsm_WW0hppukfvQ3CgQkTgkX4NbkpgkraYzCeLUcyZszW_F39b1Um1UwvGV4p2oKMZv8y2hVcwh14Gq6J6BXYoG980ZrX5HL0mb6f3j3nVyn6J2pSmYhu1xBOP7AEKew49UbSk2x/s1600-h/CIMG5485.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGIETXsm_WW0hppukfvQ3CgQkTgkX4NbkpgkraYzCeLUcyZszW_F39b1Um1UwvGV4p2oKMZv8y2hVcwh14Gq6J6BXYoG980ZrX5HL0mb6f3j3nVyn6J2pSmYhu1xBOP7AEKew49UbSk2x/s400/CIMG5485.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261447506986648098" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was lovely. If you'd like to see more pictures--and there are lots of great ones--you can see them <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2044458&l=681da&id=28300070">here</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After that, we went to a noraebang! A noraebang is an establishment with private karaoke rooms, and it's a staple in Korean entertainment. You pay 15,000 won (or so) for an hour, choose your songs, and make a fool of yourself in front of your friends. It's really quite brilliant.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Jess and I did most of the heavy lifting when it came to singing. Kyle mostly spectated, occasionally rolling around on the floor or pretending to sing (then getting angry when we changed the song). Fun was had by all! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I'd post a video of Jess and I singing ABBA, but I like Jess too much to do that.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I WILL show you pictures, though!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTRvT5lymixUvmaaRqz_l8jZcJEbtBrZDFWRH8xbckjb9P0bwm4aWt2k4wljl6RBgBMoLe0zM0uFmc88t0MUQuWW3H_kij6XqGbEeMT5nLqnmuiPnTN40zWrPRarJtiL643dLFbPZr8iI/s1600-h/CIMG5490.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTRvT5lymixUvmaaRqz_l8jZcJEbtBrZDFWRH8xbckjb9P0bwm4aWt2k4wljl6RBgBMoLe0zM0uFmc88t0MUQuWW3H_kij6XqGbEeMT5nLqnmuiPnTN40zWrPRarJtiL643dLFbPZr8iI/s400/CIMG5490.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261450368288401058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggwnfIu-01E_4_T715VgzrOtbBQbRgG4UVptwzD3X47-i2N5D79_I43J9UeU3NslINJkT7ih0VPh5J3YpdqPBZLAIwaLzyd7FbEPsItqHfDuUHfuhFyulglBt_ses22OM0nejxkQa5HVys/s1600-h/CIMG5493.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggwnfIu-01E_4_T715VgzrOtbBQbRgG4UVptwzD3X47-i2N5D79_I43J9UeU3NslINJkT7ih0VPh5J3YpdqPBZLAIwaLzyd7FbEPsItqHfDuUHfuhFyulglBt_ses22OM0nejxkQa5HVys/s400/CIMG5493.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261450360165403026" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zFTysnQP0eszZp3ybQBvx8a5VYq-X_8mCBbG3e-6WjMX1QnfpxysYeIlnvEu1Wh-F1yb7_wVh3__8cNiXYhMJMef1WL-azB22E7YVp1j58KTY92jtB1m-6OQDC34MWGoQGEKmxxOsNdD/s1600-h/CIMG5494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zFTysnQP0eszZp3ybQBvx8a5VYq-X_8mCBbG3e-6WjMX1QnfpxysYeIlnvEu1Wh-F1yb7_wVh3__8cNiXYhMJMef1WL-azB22E7YVp1j58KTY92jtB1m-6OQDC34MWGoQGEKmxxOsNdD/s400/CIMG5494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261450351492663362" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-8541791608128156792008-10-26T19:52:00.004+09:002008-10-26T20:45:25.798+09:00Strangely wonderful.<div>A couple weeks ago, I had an interesting adventure. Carla, the then-newest teacher, and I volunteered to have our pictures taken on a Saturday. One of the Korean teachers knew someone who was a photographer and wanted a couple foreigners for a day trip photo shoot, so we woke up bright and early to get in a car with strangers for a couple hours. :c) The lady who arranged it turned out to be the grandmother of one of my students, <a href="http://loriteacher.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-am-so-butter-up-able.html">the lovely and adorable Lilly</a>. (Incidentally, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Lilly's grandmother escaped from North Korea</span> at the beginning of the Korean War, when she was four years old. Crazy!) There were about six people, including the teacher, whose day job involves intelligence with the Seoul police force. (How cool!) They took us down to Daejeon, and we visited a military (and police and firefighter) cemetary; it's similar to Arlington Cemetary in the States.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Most of the pictures involved Carla and I standing solemnly in front of graves with or without the teacher, in his dress police uniform, pointing out various things on the graves. After a couple hours of that, we went to a grassy area and set up a little picnic with milk and cookies, then another one with vitamin C-and-ginseng energy drinks. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">We smiled and laughed gaily while the Koreans took pictures. </span>It was....strange. We found out halfway through the energy drink picnic that the pictures were for two photo contests; the milk company and energy drink companies were looking for pictures for a new ad campaign, and the prize is a lifetime supply of that product. (Sweet!) So Carla and I just might be appearing in an ad...haha. Unlikely, but who knows!</div><div><br /></div><div>All the photographers were between the ages of 50ish and 75ish, which provided Carla and I with an interesting and informative experience. I've been reading a lot about traditional Korean values and ways of thinking, but since all the Koreans we know are either kids or twentysomething teachers who've spent time abroad, I hadn't interacted heavily with anyone who carries the old-school Korean mindset. This group of photographers, though, finally gave me some exposure to that. For instance, Carla and I were treated like royalty. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">We were honored guests, and the whole day they treated us with deference and respect. </span> It was a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">really</span> long day; we woke up at 7:30 and didn't get home until about 8pm, and it was quite exhausting and strange to have our pictures taken and be so formal for that long. But despite that, it was really edifying to have the opportunity to interact with an older generation of Koreans in such a meaningful way. They were extremely gracious hosts, and I came away feeling like they considered us to be dear friends. In fact, Lilly's grandmother called me today and invited us to her house for lunch next Saturday.</div><div><br /></div><div>The experience was really...well, strange. Nothing quite compares to being asked to drink things and emote exuberantly while several people clamber around snapping pictures. It was also quite a mental exercise to stay alert for cues about how to conduct myself with propriety. But being brought into these people's world with such candidness made the experience really special. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">That day was bizarre, fulfilling, taxing, and edifying; in short, it was exactly what I came to Korea to experience.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-66499803095527756702008-10-21T22:54:00.004+09:002008-10-21T23:19:47.159+09:00I PROMISE I'm not bribing them to write this stuff.I got another complimentary writing assignment today. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> I realize that I look completely vain by posting TWO of these on my blog,</span> but they kind of crack me up, so I don't care. :c) The assignment was to choose a topic, write a topic sentence, then write detail sentences.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lori teacher is beautiful. She is beautifull because she have golden hair. She has preety eyes. She has long hair. I like her very much. She has white skin. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She looks likea butterfly.</span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I must admit that I'm kind of enjoying my boost in perceived attractiveness in Korea. Because I have very fair skin, light-ish European-shaped eyes, and light-ish hair (well...in comparison to Asian black hair), I'm already at an advantage in the looks department. I'm not gonna lie: it's a nice little ego boost that a couple strangers I've interacted with--cashiers, et al.--have commented that I am <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">"very peautiful."</span> Again, I emphasize that 90% of that is because of my European features and coloring...but hey, a compliment is a compliment! I'll take it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Luna's laudatory writing assignment brought up one other interesting phenomenon in the life of Lori Teacher. Several Koreans have mentioned my "blond," "yellow," or "gold" hair! My hair is red. If anything, it gets mistaken for brown hair, but definitely not blond. But in the same way that it's often hard for a Westerner to tell different Asian ethnicities apart, I think it's just harder for Korean eyes to see the differences between blond, brown, and red hair. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">And I'm sure it doesn't help that "red" hair looks nothing like a "red" crayon.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I tell you what, though. I feel somehow vindicated that my extreme paleness is actually an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">attractive</span> thing in Korea. Score! "She looks like a butterfly," "she have golden hair," <a href="http://loriteacher.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-am-so-butter-up-able.html">"she is sweety smell"</a>....hey, I'll take it all.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-48182305161238178842008-10-15T22:10:00.005+09:002008-10-21T23:21:20.073+09:00I am SO butter-up-able.My second-least-favorite class is really small. It had six students, but the best student switched hagwons two weeks ago, so now there are just five. Unlike <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">my first-least-favorite class, who I dislike because they're dreadfully lazy and never do their homework,</span> my second-least-favorite class actually has pleasant students. But with them, the trouble is that they're very shy, they have very quiet voices, and they're much lower-level than they should be. I think these kids must have started out in bigger classes where they could shut their mouths and skate by because the teacher never heard how little they were capable of saying. Of course, now that all the silent low-level kids are in my class together, I'm forced to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">cheerlead and play charades</span> until they understand. And once they understand, getting them to speak audibly is a whole other mountain to scale. It's EXHAUSTING.<div><br /></div><div>The most redeeming part of that class is one tiny, lovely first-grader named Lilly. Lilly just joined the class in September, and she's the sweetest creature you'll ever meet. Plus, she's one of those kids who adores school and adores her teachers, so her presence in my class definitely massages my ego.</div><div><br /></div><div>To wit: Lilly's "first day of school" diary, which I just graded. The assignment was to write about the first day of school, but Lilly seems not to have understood that. I don't care, though. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">She's a card-carrying member of the Lori Teacher Fan Club, so she can write about whatever she wants.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The First Day of School</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I like favorite game.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I like my Lori teacher.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Because I give to special sticker.</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">[She meant "because she gives me special stickers."]</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I like special sticker.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And I am on the strainacontest.</span> [That was supposed to be "I'm in the speech contest."]</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Because the story long.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I can do it. ^.^</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am very on the stainacontest.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am very love Lori teacher.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Because Lori teacher is sweety smell.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">good buy</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">~</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">~<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">- from -<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">- Lilly -</span></span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She followed me home.....can I keep her?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-52581801973918827192008-10-15T13:15:00.008+09:002008-10-15T14:06:08.073+09:00The line between solidarity and jingoism.I just watched <a href="http://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=8VzDqbMUlrU">a really interesting documentary produced by Al-Jazeera about everyday life in North Korea</a>. I applaud Al-Jazeera for taking such an objective approach to the subject--at least, inasmuch as one can be objective. I thought it was great how the documentary had no narration, but showed only snapshots of people and allowed the viewers to draw their own conclusions. There's footage from a government boardroom, a factory fighting to make quota despite the frequent nationwide blackouts, and one family's apartment. The most quietly shocking part, I thought, was in the last couple minutes, where an old man describes American bomb raids on his house and school...and the "kill the American dogs" sentiment he's taught his tiny granddaughter because of it.<div><br /></div><div>Honestly, I can't really blame him. He's had little to no outside news during the sixty years since the Korean War, and the government has fed him a steady diet of propaganda. And...well, the Americans <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">did</span> kill his father, brother, and classmates. <span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">In his situation, what would you believe? And what would you teach your grandchildren?</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*</div><div><br /></div><div>That documentary got me thinking about a class I had a few weeks ago. Somehow, Kim Jong Il came up. A few kids said that he was a really bad man, but one girl was sympathetic to him. "But he's still Korean," she said. <span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">"He's still one of my people."</span></span> Despite his horrible actions, she couldn't completely condemn him; he shared the same blood and the same heritage.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I told Margaret about that conversation, she made an obvious (and completely cogent) point: "Charles Manson was American, but does that earn him any sympathy in my mind? Of course not!" That disparity--between how Margaret thought of her evildoing countryman and how my student thought of hers--highlighted for me a unique quality of the Korean mindset.</div><div><br /></div><div>In traditional Korea, family is of the utmost importance. Following from that, loyalty to one's in-group is highly valued and expected; each person sticks by his or her family members, schoolmates, co-workers, and countrymen with all the Confucian fervor he or she can muster. (I should, of course, offer the very large caveat that Korea is westernizing at a dizzying rate, and that the old Confucian values are followed to greater or lesser degrees from person to person. What used to be quite universal is now anything but.)</div><div><br /></div><div>As I discussed with Margaret, my student saw Kim Jong Il similarly to how a mother would see her son who had killed someone. "I hate what he did," she might say. "But he's still the son I raised, and I'll still go see him in prison. You don't turn against your own family, no matter what they do." From what I've read about the traditional Korean mindset, I have the impression that fellow Koreans are seen as extended family in a way that doesn't exist--or rarely exists--in the American mindset.</div><div><br /></div><div>Korea has a long history of being conquered, oppressed, and abused. <span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Surrounded by China and Japan, Koreans call their country a shrimp among whales..."and when the whales play," they aphorize, "the shrimp gets its back broken." </span></span>Understandably, the economic and political boom South Korea experienced in the second half of the 20th century brought about a tidal wave of national pride. As longtime victims who finally gained true autonomy, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">of cours</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">e</span> Koreans are proud, and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">of course</span> they feel solidarity toward each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>But is there a line? Is my student's reticence to condemn Kim Jong Il too forgiving? Granted, she's in third grade; at that age, probably 90% of her political opinions come from her parents. Perhaps this particular example is not the best discussion point for the appropriateness of ethnic solidarity, given her age and the immaturity of her critical thinking skills. Still, the broader question has gotten me thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Like so many viewpoints I've experienced in Korea, I find myself questioning whether my distaste for the viewpoint is valid (and supported by ideals such as critical thinking and human equality), or whether my distaste is ethnocentric--and merely a product of my American-enculturated brain encountering something different (yet still "correct" and "valid"). </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">Was my student showing an acceptable level of solidarity, or was she being jingoistic?</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What do you all think? Where's the line?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-85296969112786215702008-10-14T22:24:00.003+09:002008-10-26T22:26:44.064+09:00Adventures in grading, part 4ish.I wish I had a scanner....I really do.<div><br /></div><div>I was just grading some summaries for my third grade science class--the one I've written about a million times. And Aiden, who's one of the two smartest (in a class full of smart cookies), had quite a bit of fun with his summary.</div><div><br /></div><div>He wrote it on tiny paper; it's from a little spiral-bound pocket notebook. I hate that, because the paper is so easy to lose. But this time, he had two pieces of paper stapled together, and the top one had a little button drawn on it. The button said "summary now start," and little arrows informed me that I should press the button to see his summary. Sure enough, after I pressed the button (....and turned the page), his summary was there waiting for me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I adore this class, as I've already said a million times. A lot of it is because they're so high-level, which makes it easier to talk to them, as well as making things like humor possible. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">(Joking around with first-graders who have been learning English for a year is a completely futile endeavor.) </span> But more than that, they actually enjoy being there. They're friends with each other, and they approach the class like it's a fun part of their day. That attitude means that they do their homework, they're in a good mood, and they actually get creative and have fun with their homework.</div><div><br /></div><div>What a spiffy bunch of kids. :c)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-89289847036362428742008-10-09T21:57:00.004+09:002008-10-26T22:22:20.965+09:00Bathroom demons and televisual bliss.I've been living in my new apartment for a week now.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The highlights:</span></div><div>--Living with Kyle. Kyle is awesome.</div><div>--Not living with a school administrator. Kevin was a very courteous roommate, and he was super-helpful with the language and cultural barrier while I adjusted...but being roommates with one of the higher-ups at your job is a bit awkward. Not that it kept me from being comfortable or anything; I just always had a slight feeling of "I need to be on my best behavior." It's nice to be completely at ease when I'm at home.</div><div>--HAVING A TV WITH MORE THAN TWO CHANNELS. AND A COUCH IN FRONT OF SAID TV. Oh my lord...I mean, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">everyone knows I'm a TVaholic</span>, but I didn't realize the extent of it until I moved into an apartment with, like, 70 channels after a long dry spell. I've hardly been able to pry myself away. It is glorious. More on that in a minute.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The lowlight (only one):</span></div><div>--OUR BATHROOM. It is......blargh. Something inside me dies every time I think about it. First of all, you must understand something about many Korean bathrooms: there is no specific shower or tub area. There is only a shower head and a drain in the middle of the floor. You shower in the whole bathroom. And in the case of our own bathroom, the shower head is attached to the sink, and you turn a little dial to switch the water back and forth between the shower head and the faucet. (An added bonus to this system: if someone uses the shower and forgets to switch the water back to the faucet, the next person comes along to use the sink and gets blasted in the chest by the shower head. SWEET!) Also, like many Korean bathrooms, ours contains the washing machine. And again, as is the case with most Korean households, the washing machine drains out onto the floor instead of from a pipe directly into the sewer system.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, to recap: our bathroom has a sink, a toilet, a washing machine, a shower head attached to the sink and hanging on the wall at stomach-height, and a drain in the middle of the floor. When you take a shower or run the washing machine, the whole floor gets flooded, which means that walking in afterward (to go to the bathroom or hang up your wet laundry) gets your feet all wet, so you track muddy footprints into the rest of the apartment. We have some designated bathroom flip-flops to help with the situation, but it's still disgusting. And I'm someone with a high tolerance for filth. Oh--and the height of the shower head holster-thingy means that you always have to hold the shower head while you're taking a shower. Awesome!</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite all the obnoxious qualities I've already mentioned, the worst one is still unspoken.</div><div><br /></div><div>Y'all. There's something screwy with the way our drain pipe is set up; Kyle says there's no S-curve (or whatever those things are called). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Because of that, the stank sewer gas below floats up into our bathroom, and there is a permanent stench. </span> It's hoooorrible. Our two lines of defense against the smell are both flawed; we leave the window open--which makes the bathroom cold in the morning when you want to take a shower--and we leave the door closed--which means you never know for sure if someone is in there. I know I'm being all Whiny McWhinypants about this, but if you had to use a similarly crappy bathroom, I'm sure you'd be cranky too. :c)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This concludes my bathroom-related whining. But I'm not finished! The aforementioned televisual bliss must be shared!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Because I am feeling particularly list-y today, here is a rundown <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">of the wonders I have discovered on Korean TV</span> in the past three days. All of them filled me with glee. I may have squealed once or twice. (Okay....maybe thrice.)<br /></div><div>--CSI: Miami (this just in: David Caruso is still a terrible actor)</div><div>--Law & Order (YES YES YES YES. Even though it's usually my least-favorite L&O flavor: the one with the dude from Sex and the City. You know the one.)</div><div>--Mythbusters</div><div>--the movie Two Weeks Notice (one of my all-time favorites!)</div><div>--a Korean TV show named Franceska, whose titular character is disturbingly Morticia Addams-like and is involved in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">a complicated web of unrequited love (also involving her fake-husband, her daughter, and a schizophrenic pop star)</span>. Oh, and she happens to be a vampire. Of course.</div><div>--a commercial that informed me that BILLY JOEL WILL BE PLAYING IN SEOUL ON NOVEMBER 15TH. OH MY LORD OH MY LORD OH MY LORD. And may I repeat: OH. MY. LORD.</div><div>--America's Next Top Model!!!! (Thankfully, no marathons; I love me some ANTM marathons, but they have swallowed entire weekends of my life.)</div><div>--The Office. DUBBED OVER IN KOREAN. When I stumbled upon that last night, I sprinted across the apartment, grabbed my laptop, frantically skyped Margaret (who, thank goodness, was online), and showed her about 5 minutes' worth with my webcam. It was amazing. And hilarious. And a testimony to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">why best friends exist (clearly, it's so that you have someone to watch crazy TV with over a webcam)</span>.</div><div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-22765405099556327032008-10-08T00:51:00.003+09:002008-10-26T22:28:57.984+09:00My own little economic crisis.I just read a friend's facebook status, and it mentioned the plummeting value of the Korean won. Curious, I looked up the exchange rate....and received the first of many, many pieces of bad news.<div><br /></div><div>When I left for Korea less than three months ago, one dollar was worth 1008 won. Today, one dollar is worth 1269 won. My first reaction upon reading this was frustration that the easy "lop off three zeroes and stick a dollar sign on it" price conversion no longer worked. ("So, this movie ticket is 7,500 won. That's....not $7.50 anymore. It's....um. Less than that. Or more. Definitely either less or more than $7.50.")</div><div><br /></div><div>My second thought ran to my salary. "Hey self," I said to myself, "we should pull out some math wizardry--<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">cross-multiplying and solving for </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">x</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">, what-whaaaat</span>!--and figure out how much our salary has changed. In fact, just out of curiosity, let's see how much our current salary is worth today as compared to one year ago." And Y'ALL. I now make SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS AND THREE CENTS LESS EVERY MONTH THAN I WOULD HAVE MADE ONE YEAR AGO TODAY. LET ME REPEAT: $600.03 LESS EVVVVERY MOOOOONTH. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH CAPS LOCK KEYS IN THE WORLD TO CONVEY MY SHOCK AND DISMAY.</div><div><br /></div><div>My poor, poor salary. And here I'd been, all "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">ha HA, you dastardly Wall Street crash, you! You can't get me over here in Korea! </span>Not <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">too</span> badly, anyway! Nanny nanny boo boo!" Meanwhile, the won was in the throes of sympathy pains, determined to suffer just as much as its American buddy. Such <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">compassion</span> it has! It's inspiring, really. Someone buy the rights to that movie, STAT.</div><div><br /></div><div>Would you like a visual aid? No problem! I am nothing if not accommodating. (Also: aid-y.)</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="webkit-fake-url://E52B4E5F-3661-4B07-8DBE-507C614AC2A7/image.tiff" /><br /></div><div>This lil ski slope represents the value of the won against the dollar over the past four months. Just look at it, soaring to new heights! Being all it can be! Climbing Ev'ry Mountain! [Incidentally: why did the writers of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Sound of Music</span> feel the need to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Climb_Ev'ry_Mountain">apostrophize the word "every"?</a> It was already two syllables! No apostrophe necessary! Anyway.]</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Even compared to the day I left for Korea--and again, that was </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">less than three months ago</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">--my salary is now worth $405.79 less each month</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Clearly, the won has been listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=726Zf-zin-s">far too much Tom Petty</a> lately.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183782547645201020.post-43907554014977989662008-10-06T13:02:00.002+09:002008-10-06T13:06:01.120+09:00A resourceful little bugger.Sorry for all the "kids say the darndest things" grading-related posts lately, but....well, grading has kind of been my life. :c) That said, here's another one.<div><br /></div><div>In one of my classes, where the kids are in first grade, I've been having them write sentences with the vocabulary words for homework. I just got to Andy's sentences, and I have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">slight</span> hunch he's been using an English phrasebook or something for help. What do you think?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">false</span>: Be false in word and deed.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">welcome</span>: I welcome your criticism.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">hero</span>: No man is a hero to his valet.</div><div><br /></div><div>I mean, he TOTALLY could have come up with those sentences on his own! Maybe I'm just not giving him enough credit.... :c)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1