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.