School's out...forever!

I would go so far as to say that today has been fun. Behold the day's events:

1. Every month the school holds a birthday party for each child whose birthday it is that month. Since the school is closing, er, tomorrow, we celebrated all those children who have birthdays in December, January and February. This was about half the kids. It was a half an hour affair involving present exchanging between friends, blowing out candles, and taking photos of each child individually - where possible with a kiss from a classmate of the opposite sex. The teachers were chanting "뽀뽀해, 뽀뽀해!" ("Kiss, kiss!"), probably rather inappropriately, but witnessing a six year old boy going in for the snog on the prettiest girl in school was priceless.
   


2. The aforementioned party meant that my first lesson of the day was only ten minutes long. This was just enough time to introduce the lesson, sing a few songs, and ease my guilt that I'd not planned anything to do anyway. Second lesson was "Screen English" - where the kids just watch DVDs. I enjoyed that too - today the protagonist of the series played with the cat because his baby sister was asleep. Most amusing.
   


3. During third period Lauren and I were informed that it would be up to us whether or not the school went ahead with the deal with this other school that is interested in buying it out. "But no pressure!" We were told the school was nice and that we should probably go for the new job, "But don't let them pressurise you into making a decision".
   
   We had lunch with extra 야쿠르트 (yoghurt) and 케익 (cake) that had been provided for the birthday party from parents, before heading off to visit the potential new school. [An aside: each character represents one syllable. Note how yoghurt now has four syllables - that's ya-go-re-te - and cake now has two syllables - ce-ik. My world has turned into one where the power of the vowel prevails...]



4. Straight after lunch Lauren and I went with one of the Korean teachers to visit the other school. It seemed nice when we got in - with colourful displays and large classrooms. But once we got into the nitty gritty, we both knew we would not be working there.
   
   The principal of the school did not speak particularly good English, and perhaps there were some strong cultural differences, but the impression we got from her was less than negative. She asked us about our GCSEs, as if scraping the barrel for questions to ask in the interview; she questioned our abilities to communicate with the children because we don't have American accents; she was very wary of the fact that we didn't have any formal teaching qualifications; she dismissed any questions we asked as unimportant, though we were doubtful as to whether she understood them anyway. It felt as though she wanted to make us feel as inadequate as possible, and yet in her head she was going to employ us anyway to expand her school.
   


5. We got back to school where we bitched about this principal, making it very clear that we didn't want to go ahead with the deal. I think everyone was relieved to hear this - it means the school can just close tomorrow and everyone can forget about it. There'll still be issues of December pay and entitlements, but at least we can all take a break.
   
   After we got back and relayed our news, the black cloud above the staff room just disappeared. The afternoon became a free-for-all, with teachers going through their belongings and clearing out their desks. Lesson plans were thrown out of the window and classes consisted of art and DVDs. I drew a beautiful picture of the Eiffel Tower but my co-workers were unimpressed, and rudely expressed their opinions of my artistic abilities :P


6. This evening I was reluctant to go home. I was feeling quite hyper active, and hanging out at school going through all the stuff I could potentially nick seemed more exciting than facing the clogged drain in my bathroom. I asked the other foreign teacher about this (he lives in the same building and I use him as my apartment guru) and he told me how to take apart my pipes. At home, I released all my excess energy into my first plumbing experience, which, with all the adrenalin running through me, wasn't as disgusting as I'd hoped ^^ Mmmmm to lumps of hair coughing out of my plughole...

So now I am jobless and fancy free *^^* My drain drains like a dream, I have as much origami paper and as many notebooks that I could get my hands on, and all I need to worry about now is what I'm going to have for dinner...

...and finding a new job, but don't spit on my fire, thank you :P

Updates are subject to change

This school has 'language deliveries': slogans that the children learn each week, go home to their parents and relay, which the parents then write down - resulting in some interesting variations on the intention. This week it is "If you can dream it, you can do it"; last week it was "Good manners make you nice"; the week before was "The sun rises in the east, and sets in the west".

However, given the nature of the school at the moment I think the real motto of the week should not only be "Take each day as it comes", but "Take each minute as it comes". It seems every time we turn around we find new developments or plans.

During second period today I had a knock on my window, where a teacher came in and said, "Everyone stand up and go to the Fun House". There wasn't any explanation, just a sudden halt to the lesson. I left the classroom to go to a meeting room, where there was a crowd of Korean mothers seated expectantly as all the teachers took their place at the front of the room. We were as much in the dark as they were.

I'm not 100% sure of what actually happened since the meeting was all in Korean, but it seemed that the boss was asking for more money than necessary from the new school that is considering buying our one out. For this reason, all the mothers and Korean teachers started signing a piece of paper, but for what is unclear.

There's talk of suing the boss, there's talk of the new school buying the floor of our building, there's talk of more than one school being interested in our school. The vice principle of one of these prospective schools came in to interview all the teachers, but whether they'll take us on or not I don't know. Not all the parents are on board the idea of the transition, so the money the school can take from them won't necessarily cover all the teachers' salaries. Regardless, it seemed one of the schools is only looking for new teachers anyway and aren't interested in the students.

All in all, we don't know what's going on. The vice principle has told Lauren and me that if we find a new job we should take it; we should feel no obligation towards this school. But of course now we know the children, we've met several of the parents, and we're friends with our co-workers. How could we not feel guilty to abandon all of them? But rationally, we came to Korea to be in Korea - not to work at this particular school. If we can find a job with better working hours, better pay and no drama...well, which option would you take?

The Bunny Seller

All the parents came in to hear the bad news in person today. Many of the kindergarten parents were especially angry for the following reasons:

1. They've put money into the school only for it to close down three months before graduation (yes, kindergarten students "graduate" - with a ceremony and mortar boards and everything);
   
   
2. To find a new school now would mean that the children would go in at the wrong level because they've not completed the year;
   
   
3. They worry that if the teachers are in the knowledge that the school is going to close then they won't do their jobs as effectively (true story - evaluation cards have been scrapped this month along with those extra meetings where we discuss all the kids individually, we've been going to lessons late and ignoring the bells...); and worst of all,
   
   
4. If the school does stay open in December, they don't want to pay! Not pay?! That would totally defeat the object of keeping the school open!
   

Anyway, there have been some negotiations going on today with another school in the area which have put a ray of hope into everyone's teaching lives. They've agreed to take on both the teachers and the kindergarten students on the current curriculum until January when the school year ends, then the students will continue on that school's curriculum in the new year. If it goes through it sounds like a good idea, for then there will be less disruption for both the teachers and the children, but we shall have to see if either a) the deal goes through, or b) they offer us a good contract.

School aside, I went to Nowon this evening (a district just a short distance from where I'm currently living) primarily to get some contact lenses as I've managed to split the only two pairs that I brought with me. Going to Nowon especially for this reason was a bit unnecessary since there are glasses shops all over Seoul (in fact there were three in sight of the one that I went to), but I went with a couple of Korean teachers at school who acted as interpreters which was very helpful, not knowing the words for "prescription" or "soft/hard lenses" or "glasses" myself.

But anyway, it looks like a really cool place with a big Lotte department store with a big cinema in, and lots of bars/clubs/shops around with sparkly lights and neon signs around.

Ate dinner in Lotte; had some kind of steamed pork dish (보쌈) which was delicious, along with all the compulsory sides (Lauren wouldn't think so not liking fat on her meat, see left)


But the real highlight of my trip out was seeing this: a bleach blonde Korean dude selling scrawny straggly looking rabbit-kittens. I picked one up that was running away, but accidentally dropped it. I won't tell the kids that...and I think Lauren will be appalled (not at me, the guy selling, obviously... ^^)

Meeting the boss

It's been quite a mixed up day today. Knowing things were in a state of unknown, I was very confused when only half of my class turned up for homeroom this morning. I think this was actually just a coincidence to the ongoings at school, and that one of the buses was late, but it was the start of a day out of the ordinary.

First lesson took place as usual. But then came a knock at my classroom window signalling all children to go to the Fun House (that's the room where they play/watch DVDs/have whole school meetings) where all the children were sat down in lines and a Disney film was put on. We then all went to a meeting room where we met the big boss.

The meeting went on for about an hour. Not understanding any of what was going on - the vice principle had intended to translate after every point but found this wasn't feasible - all that Lauren and I felt was a room full of anxiety and high emotions. We didn't know what they were talking about and we didn't even know what the outcome of the school status was until one of the Korean teachers wrote Lauren a note saying that the boss was hoping to close the school by the end of November.

The Korean teachers all brought up various points regarding money that he'd just not considered. For instance, by law he has to give a month's notice before making us redundant, so whether we work or not we will have to be paid for December as well to give us time to find new jobs. On top of that, anybody who has worked there for longer than a year is entitled to one month's severance pay, of which he'd not considered either. Moreover, the kindergarten students have paid a graduation deposit, of which contractually they are owed back if they don't graduate. Again, he'd not thought about that. With all these extra financial obligations, it isn't feasible that the school should close down at the end of the week. He claims that he has November's pay packets in his hands, but beyond that, there is no money.

The vice principle has suggested keeping the kindergarten students on for December to get extra money in from their fees. This would work out quite nicely as then we'd only be working mornings for the next three weeks (since the school takes a week off for Christmas anyway) and getting paid a full month's salary. Having said this, once the parents understand the situation, it's touch and go whether or not they will keep their children at the school for the extra time, knowing that the school is going to close.

Either way, we are entitled to December's pay whether or not we receive it. Lauren and I have also been told that we'd be allowed to stay in our apartments until we have found new jobs, which is very convenient. The vice principle feels really bad about our situation and is trying as hard as she can to make sure that we get everything that we are owed.

We met up with our recruiter this evening and she's going to do her best to find us a new placement, but since the school year starts in March most openings aren't until February. But perhaps this is a blessing and will give us a chance to travel in off-peak season and get to know the country a bit better.

Talent show

Today was the long awaited day of the annual talent show. After the apparent shambles of last year's performance, there has been extra pressure to put on a particularly sparkling show -- and, as far as small children playing the violin in supposed unison goes, it was. The kids remembered their lines and their dance steps, and any mistakes they made just made it more entertaining for the parents.

It was a rather long affair - working on a Saturday, unpaid, to dress and undress dozens of children for approximately four hours is more tiring than you might imagine. But the proud-parent/teacher feeling shone out as all the little-uns lived up to expectations and beyond as they continued to perform even despite some hiccoughs in costumes/scenery/etc.

It is such a shame that the show had to land at the time of such turmoil, but since the parents are uninformed of the news so far, they must have only felt confusion as several teachers wept at the sound of the final speech of the vice principle - that we will only continue to do better next year. But since the fate of the school is still unknown, perhaps that is what we will be doing, but with baited breath as each day brings with it new rumours and doubt.

More photos

Job hunting

It turns out the school doesn't own the floor, and they are struggling to make ends meet paying the extortionate monthly interest on their mortgage. This is so tight that the teachers have been informed that it is likely the school will close down at the beginning of December. Yes, that's in a week's time.

So I made claims about being able to find another job "just like that" - and I'm about to put that to the test. There are new visa laws now though which might mean that I may have to go back to England to get a new visa (the working visa is attached to the job) and it also makes my one week trip back home for Christmas rather pointless when I could be staying for longer, since my dates are no longer fixed.

It's come as a shock to everyone, and it's a total hassle. The vice principle feels awful about the situation and really wants to make sure that everyone gets paid what they are owed, and has suggested we'll be able to keep our flats until we've got new jobs sorted. But having said this, she doesn't control the money - we just have to hope that her power is strong enough not to screw us over.

It's just irritating that we've finally settled into our apartments, started to get to know the area, and it's starting to feel like home. But it seems likely we'll have to move out ASAP and start all over again, probably in another area of Seoul.

I complain a lot about the school, but really this is just my dislike of whining children. But I don't like anybody who whines (and I'm not sure I know anybody who really loves it). But I like the job in general and it just seems a shame we have to pack it in when we've only been here a month.

And the job hunting process is a hassle...and I'm just starting to recall the efforts we went to the first time around. I suppose at least this way we can easily see the place we might work and meet the staff without relying on photos across the internet...

School politics

And here we arrive at Thursday once again. The day that is filled with DVD watching and Delta Sand. No, we don't know what that is either, but we just consider it a break for us. Any activity where small children get shipped off to another enterprise is looked upon favourably - we don't care what happens down there in the depths of the second floor.

It should be noted that what is to follow is not complaining, whinging, or ranting. It is merely a comment on the corrupt nature of Korean hagwons - or at least the one that I work for. But I've heard stories of far worse than I am experiencing so I can only assume the set up at my school is pretty standard. Anyhow, as a foreign teacher - and therefore a sought after employee - I get paid a disproportionate amount of money for what is generally an easy job, so what do I have to complain about? But perhaps this is a part of the problem.

Our school is located on the fourth floor of the building. The school owns the floor so there isn't any concern of the school not being able to pay their rent. And this is an issue, for there are alleged financial problems going on at the school at the moment, resulting in the Korean teachers being paid late for the sixth month in a row. This certainly causes some tensions in the staff room. The foreign teachers are all getting paid on time, but without us, there is no school. So maybe we're not suffering the financial problems since it's in their interests to keep us on side. They would be stupid to turn a blind eye to the fact that Korea is begging for foreign teachers, and that we can all get other jobs at the click of a finger (or button on worknplay.com). The sufferings we bear are those that we encounter in the Teacher's Room.

Now I say "alleged financial problems", because in the short amount of time that I've worked here I've been - what I thought was reliably - informed several times by the vice principle that the drama is over and all money problems have been sorted. But we, the foreign teachers, were paid on the 10th this month, and nearly two weeks on, the Korean teachers remain unpaid. The number of murmers of "I've had enough" that I've heard going round is far too many, especially considering that there are only five Korean teachers. In actual fact, one of them is leaving in December, and at least one other is seriously looking for another job.

The school has had several other issues in the last twelve months, with management changing several times and scandals going on at the top (I've heard rumours of drunkenness at work...affairs...) This has unsurprisingly had a detrimental effect on the school: last year they had an intake of 80; this year only 30. For those of you with poor mental arithmetic capabilities, that's over a 50% drop in numbers. Despite this being a particularly expensive school, half of the classrooms are being rented out and many of my classes have just two or three students in them.

The new vice principle has come in and seemingly turned a school with a bad name around, and is certainly hoping for an increase in intake come the start of the next school year in March. But in order to do this, she has had to suck up big style to parents, cater to their every whim, and make life more difficult for the teachers. Parents are now given 'weekly plans', where every class is planned out in advance, supposedly to the minute, and homework is clearly stated so that they know exactly what is going on. There are special homework books where the elementary students are supposed to blindly write out a dialogue from their text book, memorise it, and get tested on it at school the next day. As pointless an exercise as this is, this is just another measure to ensure that the parents know exactly what happens in the classroom and what their little angels have to do at home.

Maybe this doesn't sound too unreasonable. But once we add in the fact that there are hidden cameras in every classroom that parents are able to watch on at home, we start to believe we're getting in the realms of extreme. In every staff meeting we're told that we have to give up our breaks in order to check on the children, to at least give the impression we're taking an active interest in their well-being. Of course we don't want children fighting each other to the death, and we want to make sure they're ok when they've fallen down the stairs and gouged their eye out. But we need to take breaks, or we'd go crazy -- if we haven't done so already. In the last two weeks extra meetings have even been scheduled for our post-lunch break where the foreign teachers and Korean teachers all get together for a 'coffee break' where we talk about every student invidually. Everything that gets mentioned gets written down in a log book which then goes home to the parents.

With such controlling mothers overshadowing school policies (and several of these opinionated women often come into school to voice let the school know of their power tripping dispositions), it is no wonder that I work in a school full of spoilt children. The kind that don't understand the concept of 'waiting their turn', or the kind that take other people's things without asking, or the kind that sulk when things don't go their way - or worse - whinge. But when you have mixed ability classes just because the children are cousins, but they don't even like each other in the first place and spend the whole lesson fighting with one another, you wonder if the children are there to learn English, or to adhere to the ignorance of the parents. Of course, the latter.

The art of paper folding

Stationery shops are rife. They are each filled with more pink and sky-blue (a term that is unavoidable among kindergarten children) than Mothercare and more broken-English slogans than you can so much as put two fingers to your throat. (Right: Happiness seems far but sometimes it is at your doorstep)

Admittedly much of the stock is Made in China - as the majority of goods around the world is - but there are still a fair amount of these cutesy office supplies that are genuine Korean merchandise. A particular favourite brand of stationery to be found across the country/city/your local street is Morning Glory: all your pencil case fillers to be found with excessive numbers of cartoon characters and delightful scripts littered upon them.

But wander into Paperchase back at home and you are bound to find much the same products, albeit slightly more tasteful and for a seemingly older audience. What you don't find are rows upon rows of origami paper, in a multitude of different sizes, a plethora of different colours, shades and textures, and an abundance of different paper folding instructions depending on the pack you decide to buy. It is thus that I am now able to relive my misspent childhood years, spending hours cramping my fingers as they dwindle into a realm where everything is made from paper...

Popular culture

Last class on a Monday, Wednesday, and most irritatingly, Friday, is a group of nine boys ranging from 11 to 13 years old (Korean age). They are an absolute nightmare to teach: they tip their chairs and tables over by the minute; I'll glance away for one second, look back and find half the class have hidden round the corner, under the piano, in the shelves or behind the whiteboard (I ask them, "How old are you?" They reply, "I'm three years old"); they're constantly leaving the classroom to get water; they shout, they sing, and I have one boy who insists on rapping everything he says with the speed cranked up x1000. As amusing as this is, to exercise any control over them whatsoever is proving somewhat of a challenge, not to mention the fact that the range of their English levels is so vast that it is almost impossible to keep all of them occupied at the same time, give anyone attention without having the others throwing each other out of the windows, and actually give them any kind of education.

However there is one positive side to this group of raucous boys: I do get to keep up with all the latest Korean pop songs. Whether or not this is a blessing (highly debatable as you will see), I certainly cannot escape the tunes of "Tell me, tell me, t-t-t-t-t-tell me" (complete with dance routine), and "I'm so sorry but I love you, blah blah blah blah..." that fill my classroom with untuneful pre-pubescent voices.

Tell Me - Wondergirls


Lies - Big Bang

Migliore: a shopper's paradise

Brrrr it's cold! And we certainly felt it as we walked the streets of Dongdaemun, or Eastgate market in the evening of -5°C -- by far the coldest it has been so far.

The streets are lined with a multitude of neon signs inviting us into their well-lit, heated department stores, with market stalls stocked with high street fashion clothes, accessories and shoes all at equally as inviting - negotiable - prices. Though advised towards other, cheaper, options, we chose to step into Migliore: 11 stories of pure fashion without having to dip a toe outside. That's three stories of women's clothes, one measly floor for men, two floors of accessories, a floor devoted to shoes, a floor advertising itself as "wedding stuff", two basement floors which I've not even got around to peering down into, and all the way to the top to the final floor to replenish your stomach after a hard nights shopping.

And night is right, for the shops don't close until 4.30am, allowing for a peaceful, hassle free shop out of the freezing night air -- though if you're after a peaceful, hassle free subway ride home, perhaps it's better to brace the crowds and shop by day.

Sugar Sugar Rune

I split my class up into two teams of four to encourage some friendly competition between them. On asking them their team names, I was presented with 'Drago' - "No Mary Teacher, not Dragon, Drago!" - and the other with something along the lines of 'shoogashoogaroo'. Their spelling of basic words is little to be desired and thus attempting to get them to tell me how to write this bizarre word on the board accurately was far from realistic. Needless to say, I made them choose another name, though whether they really wanted 'Felix' or 'Phoenix', I'm not sure.

The 'friendly' competition was great: they cheered on their teammates as each competitor was called up , and they sighed at them when they ineptly allowed the other team to gain points. This was as planned, but just until I got scowls from the losing team as the winners were rewarded with the sought after sticker prizes. The sense of hatred filling the room was so strong I felt obliged to win the other half of the class over later by pretending their artwork was so amazing it deserved a reward. But then when I suggested some art was better than others I was faced with whinging from the original winners (some of them just painted their whole sheet of paper black; hardly the beautiful underwater scene I'd asked for) which to save my ears I felt it easier to just give out stickers to everyone. This in turn was met with puzzled sounds of "Why Elika sticker?" To which I replied, "To keep her from whining and giving me a headache". I know they don't always understand what I say, but this is really for my own amusement. I think they get the gist from my tone of voice and look of disdain. But oh, the politics of small children...

To get back to the topic at hand, I had ten minutes remaining of the lesson after my art class, in which I allowed them to fill with their own games. The boys got out their toy monster trucks and proceeded to battle them across the table, while the girls got out pink filofax organisers and started to plaster stickers over them, write lists of names, or other such meaningless activities. Keen to show me, it was at this point that I learnt the true meaning of 'shoogashoogaroo': "Sugar Sugar Rune" as it is to be spelled and pronounced, turned out to be the trademark of these organisers. They had timetables for the day, the week and the month, along with pictures of girls in their underwear with peelable stickers for dressing them up. As far as they are encouraging the young ladies of this country to become organised OCD patients, more importantly they are ingraining a fashion conscience in early.

Well, at least now I knew how to spell it, I was sure they could use this crazy phrase as their team name next lesson.

This evening Lauren and I wandered into our local stationery store, and what did I find? Nothing other than several Sugar Sugar Rune filofaxes, along with separate sticker inserts that you can buy to replenish/add to your dress-up images. Of course I had to buy one - at 4000 won I felt this was a small price to pay to fit in with my new playmates. I now have my own Sugar Sugar Rune filofax to put all my daily activities into, but best of all I can play dress up in sticker form, creating my best outfit and my street outfit and my love outfit, all complete with shoes, bags and accessories.

By scouring the internet I quickly learned that Sugar Sugar Rune is a Japanese animé comic/TV series starring two witches who have to conceal their identities (and so obviously dress in as fashionable human clothes as possible) in order to compete in a contest to become Queen of the Magical World (see here for more info). This sounds just too exciting, so no doubt I'll also be searching for the DVD at some point during my next shopping trip, though if anyone wants to bother to search for a download let me know *^^*

NB. The term 'Mary Teacher' comes from the fact that everybody at school has an English name - kids and teachers alike - so for a so-called English teacher to waltz in with a Korean name is unheard of and frowned upon by parents. It is thus that I've had to get used to this new name, but with the 'Teacher' appendage it doesn't seem so strange. "Not so strange?" you ask? But I ignore you and suggest that school politics is a topic for another day.

And if any of you girls are feeling jealous at my super cool filofax, here's a fun website to fulfil all your fashion needs ^^

I ♥ Thursdays,

for this is the only day of the week that I get some time off - 6 lessons opposed to the regular 7 or invariably 8 that I have to teach in the other weekdays. But the real blessing is only teaching 3 kindergarten classes rather than 4 - keeping a smile on your face while all you really want to do is scream, shout and tantrum in tune with the children is more of a challenge than actually teaching them any English. For I find that if you raise your voice enough and put enough sad faces on the board, they soon realise that they've done something wrong. A likely story! They dig the sticker rewards and understand that sitting still and singing well and colouring within the lines gives them happy faces, but there are just a few trouble makers that don't seem to understand why I've rubbed out their happy face when they insist on beating up their fellow playmates! "Justin, you don't hit!" "Annie, you know you don't take other people's things without asking." "Dean: will you PLEASE be quiet!" "Oh Jude...what's wrong? Elika, did you hit Jude? Oh Elika..."

Sigh...

Admittedly I've only been here, what? Three weeks? Or is it four? In some ways it feels as though I've only just moved in, and in others a day at school can feel like a lifetime. But either way, my perceptions of teaching children has changed dramatically. I initially thought that the really small kids - that's 5 and 6 year old Korean age (take the age that you will turn this year and add 1 - yep, that's right - you're already a year old when you're born) - were horrendously cute, well behaved, and practically fluent English speakers. They were quiet when they were colouring in, enthusiastic when playing games, and polite to the teacher. Oh how things have changed. Or how wrong I was. I realise now this first impression was a combination of my rose tinted specs and the children's fear/wariness of a new teacher.

Now that they are confident enough to jump on my back, sit on my lap, and openly tell on their friends to me at any opportunity just for their own satisfaction of seeing others being punished, crowd control is proving a lot more taxing. And suddenly, their angelic faces are not looking quite so cute. The six year olds at least have a firm understanding of the term 'tell-tale' and use this one against each constantly, to the extent that they themselves become tell-tales by reporting other tell-tale behaviour. But what were seemingly good English speakers in the five year olds are becoming increasingly less so as they continue to run around and are oblivious to the shouting, the coaxing, the threats, the promise of reward if they sit down, the group punishment...

But to an extent, I can deal with the naughty children. They're boisterous and excitable and they don't recognise their own strength when they 'accidently' run into their friends. A good "Jason, what do you say to Arthur?" in an overtly patronising voice tends to do the trick. It's the lack of developed motor and/or organisational skills that makes them believe it is essential to run to and from their seat several times because they forgot to get out their pencils. "Don't worry, I can give you a pencil!" Or they forgot to get both the workbook and activity book out. "Don't worry, you can get it later." Or they got out two books by mistake and they only needed one, so it is highly necessary to put the other one back. "Really, you can leave that one on the table, it's ok." Or so-and-so can't find their crayons so they need to get up to help them find them. "I'm sure so-and-so can find their own crayons." And the list continues. Admittedly, patience has never been my forte so what I'm doing teaching such small children is beyond me.

No, wait, it's not; I'm not a qualified teacher, I don't have any teaching experience, anyone with a real passion for teaching quickly realises all of the above, and thus: this is the job I'm allowed to do.

Greetings,

my readers, who are yet few and far between. I introduce to you now what I hope will become a rich and delightful (and imminently less pretentious) collection of my experiences here in the Republic of Korea.

I am currently residing in a small studio apartment of which when I walk in through my front door (admittedly there are only 2 doors - the other of which leads to the bathroom - so to specify front is rather unnecessary) I am greeted by the unpleasant smell of must, appeased only so far by the act of maintaining both the small window and the door open. This is in turn an invitation for the cold air - occasionally icy air, of which I've been informed will only get icier - that flows through the corridor outside to waft into my otherwise heated room, not to mention any curious neighbours in need of an escape from their own cosy abodes, or the occasional door-to-door seller excited by the prospect of saving the energy from knocking. Still, by regularly doing my washing up and airing the airlocked bathroom this is not so much a problem as an inconvenience that I am getting used to. And regarding washing up - I only have one set of cutlery so in order to eat this is a necessary chore anyway.

Now it's not all bad. There is a small supermarket just a thirty second walk down the road outside, and a regular street seller just downstairs with his inviting smells of 호떡 (honey-filled pancake). I say there is a small supermarket, but it holds the majority of one's food needs - especially when one is not one would describe oneself as a foody. It is certainly bigger than your average Tesco Metro. But I realise that I write as though this is my only food source! There are, in fact, dozens of cornershop-esque shops all the way down the small stretch of road that I live on all selling apparently the same produce; one does walk by wondering how they all stay alive/why they all exist when all one's basic needs are covered by the aforementioned grocery store. Nevertheless, they do, and with friendly old people often sleeping inside until they hear your rustle at the door, eager to practice their limited English and help you with your poor grasp of the Korean numbering system.

I doubt this is a sufficient introduction to my new life, but my chosen current occupation does force me to "conk out" - as it were - rather sooner than my regular bedtime. My initial dreams of lessons filled with colouring in and singing songs have been shattered by a replacement image of energetic small children insisting on running/jumping/spinning/sitting anywhere but their designated seat in the classroom. And as far as they look cute on the outside -- they're little devils inside.

About Me

About Me
Name: Chi-Hé
Description: To the horror of myself I woke up one day and said "I don't want to travel like a parading monkey any longer!" Not quite to the horror of any person who has vaguely conversed with me, I also realised that it was not my current desire to hold down a 9-5 office job. With no work experience behind me and no driving ambition towards anything but hedonistic pursuits, I have come to settle in my cosy studio apartment across land and sea from my loved ones where I hold a 9-6 job as a foreign monkey instead.

Dear readers, please forgive my ramblings as I endeavour to enlighten you into my world as a teacher - the one occupation most would laugh in my face at holding...

Location
City/Town: Seoul
Country/Territory: South Korea