Chapter 25: "It's Where I Keep My Brains"

Well, my computer and internet are FINALLY working. There has been a lot of pain and heartache and deleted programs which I shall dearly miss....But I shall recover, I think.

There's not a whole lot that's gone on on the school front. Same old, same old. I have a wretched cough, but the doctor seems to think that it's just allergies and it'll go away. Meanwhile I think I'm frightening the students. I've got the black lung, Pop.

Today one of my students, probably about 11-12 years old, told me I had a big head. Not really out of the mouths of babes, but there's no use being offended. I told the class that it was because I was really smart. Then I looked pointedly at the boy and said, "You have a very small head."

It's fun to toy with students who aren't very good with English. They can tell you just insulted them, but they're not quite sure how....

Chapter 24: "A Wig for His Chest"

I would've updated several times since the last time I updated, but my computer ate itself last Monday, and I refuse to update from school.

This past week we had level tests, which we administer once in the middle of the term, and again at the very end. It made for an interesting change of pace, although I literally administered the same listening section for four different classes, and after the second one, I had the answers to all 30 questions memorized (they were multiple choice) so I spent the spare time amazing and distracting my students with my uncanny ability to write my name in Korean and draw various Naruto characters.

One of my older students, probably about 12 or 13 years old, actually spent all of last summer at her uncle's house in Texas, so we've bonded. The spirit of the great southern state called out to mine the moment when I said, "I'm from Texas." and she said, "Texas?!?! Teacher, you know HEB??" *wipes away tear* We also both know Dillard's, the UT Longhorns, and the ridiculous summer weather. Yes. It is very hot in Texas. She was near Houston, she knows it -_-

My class of the 7-8-year-old boys discovered that I speak Chinese. I don't really speak Chinese, but most fortunately, the only word they know in Chinese, "Nihao," is the only word I know in Chinese. That, and the word for "thank you" and "Ranma, I love you" (thanks Shampoo).

And finally, the explanation for the title of this chapter. Today I was eating with one of the other foreign teachers at a Korean restaurant. It was the style where there are long rows of low tables, and you sit on the floor and eat. Anyways, an old man (apparently drunk off his rocker) sat a few feet down from us, ordered his udon or whatever, and started talking to us in Korean. Having just returned from Korean lessons, we knew exactly what he was saying, and were able to converse with him fluently. Not.

No, we just sat there and watched him talk and make hand motions, and shrugged. But he wouldn't accept the fact that we couldn't understand. Apparently our round eyes, fair skin, and half-witted expressions were not clue enough that we were non-fluent Foreigners. He made more and more hand motions, and truly, it was impossible to tell what he wanted. He ordered another bowl, forked over some of his noodles, and handed it to us so we could try some. We did, out of politeness. But the more he motioned, the more confused we got. So the other teacher started trying to translate what he was saying. He was motioning around his head and his chest, and pointing to me, so she said that he wanted to take my hair to make a wig for his chest. I cracked up right then and there so hard I started crying. I didn't mean to laugh at the strange old man, but I couldn't help it. I personally thought he was trying to tell me I looked like one of the Asian horror film characters (my hair was straight and down again).

As I've started doing when strange men try to interact with me, we fled soon after.

Chapter 23: "Don't Follow that American Girl. She'll Just Take You to Church."

OK. Guys of other nationalities, some wisdom for you, from an American female, and your key to great English and your own green card:


Hopeful Foreign Guy never won the heart of Skittish American Girl by following her off the subway.


This is not an okay thing to do. Pleeeeaaaassseeeee don't follow me. You can talk to me, but don't touch me, don't stalk me, don't ask for a date if I won't even tell you my last name.


Ok, that's all I got.

Chapter 22: "The Self-Inflicted Stick"

I've probably already mentioned the "stick" that Korean teachers use to punish the children who misbehave. It looks kind of painful. Fortunately (and sometimes unfortunately) foreign teachers aren't allowed to use it. But today I've realized I don't need to, because I can give them the Stick with my mind.


Well, not really. But apparently if I glare at a misbehaving student long enough, he will actually hit himself.

Today I had one of my worst classes, a class of kids probably about 12 years old. The girls behave well, but the boys are insane. And the bad part is, half the time I'm laughing so hard at their antics that I can't make them do anything. I know, it encourages them. I mean, what do you do when you ask them to say a word that begins with the letter "d" and they all yell out "DONG!!!" (Korean word for sh*t)

Anyways, they were flinging imaginary poo, eating imaginary strings of snot, and barfing imaginary barf all over themselves in class, and I just needed their attention. So I yelled their names and glared at them....didn't know how long I'd be able to hold it, but I guess I glared long enough, because they all grew quiet, bowed, said "sorry, teacher" and hit themselves over the head.




Eh, whatever works, right?


I should mention one boy in particular though. They had managed to somewhat settle down, but one boy at the end of the table was still playing with his imaginary poo, reaching under himself and pulling out handfuls of whatever. So I wrote his name on the board. He protested of course, although his line of defense was my downfall: "NO TEACHER NO!!! (you'd think I was going to tell his parents or something) I wasn't throwing, I was putting it in!!!" His comrades in arms, the other boys, agreed. "Yes Teacher!! He wasn't throwing, he was putting it back in!!!"


I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.
I will not laugh at my students and their imaginary excrement.

Chapter 21: "She Died"

Just a couple of quirks from school:

In my classes whenever a student is absent, it is customary for his or her classmates to explain her absence as "death."

Teacher: "Where is Harry today?"
Fellow students: "He died."
Teacher: "Oh." *commences with class*

Occasionally they'll explain the cause of death, and usually it's fairly macabre, such as, the student jumped out the window (we're on the 5th floor), or was hit by a car. I don't know what'll happen if it's ever actually true.

Also, not a day goes by that some student tips over backwards in their chair. This happens in American schools also, but for some reason I remember chair-tipping being fairly traumatic. Tears, teacher stress-out, disruption of class.....

Here, none of that. The student falls over, there's a loud crash and some Korean words which won't be repeated here, and the student pops right back up and class continues. Some of the other students don't even look to see who fell over.