After lunch, I walk up to a group of boys hanging out outside the cafeteria. They stand up when they see me, eager, I suppose, to talk. One of them gestures excitedly to the student beside him.
"Teacher, teacher, roommate!"
"Oh, he's your roommate?" I say. "Cool!"
"Yes!"
"So..." (How do I continue this conversation?) "Do you share clothes?"
"Yes! We share clothes," he declares proudly. "Everything. Even... what is 속옷? ... Underwear! We share!"
He suddenly makes a grab at his friend's pants.
"This is mine!"
Ah, high school. They continued to joke about who was wearing whose clothes, including one student who was apparently wearing nothing that was originally his. Furthermore, it seems, to the socialist's delight, as if this collapse of the traditional ideas of ownership is perfectly ordinary. (Hm, I do suck the fun out of everything, don't I?) Anyway, these were some of my second-years, whom I already miss. On the other hand, four new students were added to my college prep class today, and tomorrow I will begin reading Louis Sachar's Holes with all of them. It should be fun!
Monday, November 12, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Kiddie Convertible
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| I saw this on the streets of Changwon the other day... |
Korea, you outdo yourself sometimes.
Too cute! 귀엽다!
P.S. Oh! It was Pepero Day today. November 11th (11/11) is the day when huge conglomerates in the food industry want everyone to buy Pepero (chocolate covered pretzel stick snacks, similar to Japanese Pocky) and other expensive chocolaty things for their significant others. Yeah, whatever, commercial nonsense. I spent the day watching Glee and studying for the GRE, and I also cranked out 3,000 words for Nanowrimo. Hooray for productivity!
Friday, November 9, 2012
Konglish and Cold Weather
Female Student 1: Wowwwww!
Me: What!
Female Student 1: You are wearing short sleeves.
Me: Oh, yeah.
Female Student 2: It's cold!
Me: I'm not that cold. I have lots of body heat.
Female Student 2: Can you give me some?
Me: UH... no, haha.
That funny little lunchtime conversation happened on the last day I wore a polo shirt to school. Since then, it's been noticeably colder, and I've taken out the scarves from where they were hiding in the back of my dresser drawer. The day I first wore my favorite scarf, a long gray knit thing that can wrap around my neck at least four times, to school, the other teachers noticed. (They all drive to school, while I walk, so they don't have to bundle up like I do.)
One of them made a point to ask me if I was wearing a scarf, and then chuckled when I replied in the affirmative. Why? Because of Konglish -- English words borrowed into Korean, often resulting in arbitrary changes in meaning. Some examples include:
fighting (화이팅/hwa-i-ting) for "You can do it!"
cider (사이더/sa-i-duh) for plain soda, like Sprite
meeting (미팅/mi-ting) for "blind date"
service (서비스/suh-bi-seu) to mean "on the house"
hand phone (핸드폰/haen-deu-pone) for cell phone
So there are two Konglish words you must understand. The first is muffler (머플러/muh-peul-luh), which we in the US know as the thing motorcyclists take off their motorcycles so they can annoy the heck out of everyone in the neighborhood. In the UK, however, a muffler is a scarf.
Speaking of which, scarf has also been reappropriated by Konglish (스카프/seu-ka-peu), but it has changed in meaning, from any piece of cloth you wrap around your neck, to specifically small silk scarves, the kind that women tend to wear more often than men.
That said, when I told the other teacher that what I was wearing was a big scarf, he laughed and said no, no, it's a muh-peul-luh. But my English co-teacher knew that there was some Konglish at play there, so she had me explain the differences between the English understanding of words and the altered meanings they sometimes acquired on their way into general usage in Korea.
There's another word for scarf in Korean, one that isn't borrowed: 목도리 (mokdoli), which to me sounds like "neck girder/support". A quick Google Images search indicates that 목도리 and 머플러 are basically the same, although the results page for the Konglish word appears to have more white people on it.
Here is a link to an "Ultimate Konglish List", very extensive but probably incomplete, as language change happens more quickly than you can say "sociolinguistic phenomena". Fun to browse!
Me: What!
Female Student 1: You are wearing short sleeves.
Me: Oh, yeah.
Female Student 2: It's cold!
Me: I'm not that cold. I have lots of body heat.
Female Student 2: Can you give me some?
Me: UH... no, haha.
That funny little lunchtime conversation happened on the last day I wore a polo shirt to school. Since then, it's been noticeably colder, and I've taken out the scarves from where they were hiding in the back of my dresser drawer. The day I first wore my favorite scarf, a long gray knit thing that can wrap around my neck at least four times, to school, the other teachers noticed. (They all drive to school, while I walk, so they don't have to bundle up like I do.)
One of them made a point to ask me if I was wearing a scarf, and then chuckled when I replied in the affirmative. Why? Because of Konglish -- English words borrowed into Korean, often resulting in arbitrary changes in meaning. Some examples include:
fighting (화이팅/hwa-i-ting) for "You can do it!"
cider (사이더/sa-i-duh) for plain soda, like Sprite
meeting (미팅/mi-ting) for "blind date"
service (서비스/suh-bi-seu) to mean "on the house"
hand phone (핸드폰/haen-deu-pone) for cell phone
So there are two Konglish words you must understand. The first is muffler (머플러/muh-peul-luh), which we in the US know as the thing motorcyclists take off their motorcycles so they can annoy the heck out of everyone in the neighborhood. In the UK, however, a muffler is a scarf.
Speaking of which, scarf has also been reappropriated by Konglish (스카프/seu-ka-peu), but it has changed in meaning, from any piece of cloth you wrap around your neck, to specifically small silk scarves, the kind that women tend to wear more often than men.
That said, when I told the other teacher that what I was wearing was a big scarf, he laughed and said no, no, it's a muh-peul-luh. But my English co-teacher knew that there was some Konglish at play there, so she had me explain the differences between the English understanding of words and the altered meanings they sometimes acquired on their way into general usage in Korea.
There's another word for scarf in Korean, one that isn't borrowed: 목도리 (mokdoli), which to me sounds like "neck girder/support". A quick Google Images search indicates that 목도리 and 머플러 are basically the same, although the results page for the Konglish word appears to have more white people on it.
Here is a link to an "Ultimate Konglish List", very extensive but probably incomplete, as language change happens more quickly than you can say "sociolinguistic phenomena". Fun to browse!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
수능 - The Sooneung
Today, the second Thursday of November, millions of Korean high school students have just finished taking a nine-hour college entrance exam, called the 수능 (sooneung). This beast of an exam blows the American SAT Reasoning Test and all APs out of the water in terms of difficulty, importance, and the crazed culture of high scores that surrounds it. The scores students receive on these exams can literally change their lives, more than the years spent in preparation for it already have.
The documentary ExamiNation, by Judy Suh, takes a close look at the 수능 and how it really affects the entire country. Most of the documentary follows a day in the life of an average high school student named Bitna, a day that is spent entirely in school, then in cram school, then in a tiny study carrel until 2am. There is one breather, a frank and moving scene shot on a rooftop where Bitna catches a dragonfly and then releases it, jealous that it doesn't have to study twenty-four-seven the way she does.
The twenty-minute documentary was very well done, and I highly recommend that you watch it. In fact, I've embedded it below, so you can watch it now and get a glimpse into the lives of the students I teach.
Well... not exactly the students that I teach. You see, less than 1% of my high school students took the 수능 today. Remember me saying that my high school is very new? I don't have any third-years (seniors) yet, only first- and second-years. Regardless, the 수능 also happens to be not very important to any of my students. At my science high school, the only subjects that matter are science and math. They don't need to study English, social science, or even Korean, for that matter, in order to be accepted into the top science universities in Korea. During their second year, they will take specialized entrance exams for specific universities, and do not even bother with the 수능.
As I've discovered very recently, however, the students who don't get accepted into university early are now faced with the prospect of a third year of high school very similar to that of the rest of their peers, and they have already begun studying for the 수능 that they will take in exactly twelve months. I'm already wishing them good luck.
Here is the documentary ExamiNation.
ExamiNation is a short documentary film about the notorious South Korean college entrance exam, Sooneung (수능). Can one exam dictate a culture and lifestyle in a country?
P.S. On a different note, I did teach class today, since it wasn't canceled at my school for the national exam. My nine-person college prep class -- the second-year students who have been accepted into university and need to practice college-level spoken English -- absolutely wowed me today by shifting the debate we'd been having on American political issues to the hot-button topic of same-sex marriage and successfully debating with each other in English for nearly ten minutes at the end of class. And they started off the period not knowing anything about American politics aside from who the US president is. So proud.
The documentary ExamiNation, by Judy Suh, takes a close look at the 수능 and how it really affects the entire country. Most of the documentary follows a day in the life of an average high school student named Bitna, a day that is spent entirely in school, then in cram school, then in a tiny study carrel until 2am. There is one breather, a frank and moving scene shot on a rooftop where Bitna catches a dragonfly and then releases it, jealous that it doesn't have to study twenty-four-seven the way she does.
The twenty-minute documentary was very well done, and I highly recommend that you watch it. In fact, I've embedded it below, so you can watch it now and get a glimpse into the lives of the students I teach.
Well... not exactly the students that I teach. You see, less than 1% of my high school students took the 수능 today. Remember me saying that my high school is very new? I don't have any third-years (seniors) yet, only first- and second-years. Regardless, the 수능 also happens to be not very important to any of my students. At my science high school, the only subjects that matter are science and math. They don't need to study English, social science, or even Korean, for that matter, in order to be accepted into the top science universities in Korea. During their second year, they will take specialized entrance exams for specific universities, and do not even bother with the 수능.
As I've discovered very recently, however, the students who don't get accepted into university early are now faced with the prospect of a third year of high school very similar to that of the rest of their peers, and they have already begun studying for the 수능 that they will take in exactly twelve months. I'm already wishing them good luck.
Here is the documentary ExamiNation.
ExamiNation is a short documentary film about the notorious South Korean college entrance exam, Sooneung (수능). Can one exam dictate a culture and lifestyle in a country?
P.S. On a different note, I did teach class today, since it wasn't canceled at my school for the national exam. My nine-person college prep class -- the second-year students who have been accepted into university and need to practice college-level spoken English -- absolutely wowed me today by shifting the debate we'd been having on American political issues to the hot-button topic of same-sex marriage and successfully debating with each other in English for nearly ten minutes at the end of class. And they started off the period not knowing anything about American politics aside from who the US president is. So proud.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
President Obama Won!
오바마는 이겼어요! Obama won!
This morning, I had only one class scheduled, but it was canceled without my knowing because my students had to assist in a mock-수능 (Korean SAT) examination. While bummed that I did not get to do my Election Day lesson, at least this left me free to watch Election Day unfold on my own. I hooked up the smart screen in an empty classroom to the Huffington Post's awesome live-updated Election Results webpage. It was intense and thrilling to watch electoral votes get picked up by the dozens by Romney at first, but when the West Coast brought it back for Obama, I cheered. I was also glued to Time's live blog, CNN's minute-by-minute updates, and my Facebook feed, and I couldn't really get any work done.
After lunch, I came straight back to my classroom to watch the swing states (Ohio, Virginia, Florida, Colorado) battle it out on the smart screen, and some of my students came by to watch. Even though I didn't teach any classes today, I was able to teach a dozen or so interested first-years, as well as my English co-teachers, about the electoral college and other interesting tidbits about the election, such as voter disenfranchisement, the bicameral legislature, and "flip-flopping".
When California went to Obama, I cheered. When Oregon brought him over 200, I cheered. When Ohio and Pennsylvania turned definitely blue, I cheered! And my students were also in on it. I'm so glad that they showed some interest; arguably Korea's future relationship with the United States hinges on the re-election of a man who has better foreign policy experience (despite questionable educational ideologies).
In the end, I'm very proud of my president and pleased that he gets a second term. Obama is imperfect, of course. Who isn't? He was hesitant and obstructed in the past four years, but I'm confident that we will all look past the messy politics and that real change is on its way.
Here is a video of his victory speech in Chicago, from the Associated Press:
Korea will also hold a presidential election this year. They occur every five years in the democratic South, and presidents have only one term. Thus, Lee Myung-Bak is on his way out (thankfully), and one of three contenders will take his place: Park Geun-hye (박근혜, right-wing), Moon Jae-in (문재인, left-wing), or Ahn Cheol-soo (안철수, left-leaning independent). The election will take place on December 19th, just a few days before I leave Korea to go home to the States for Christmas.
This morning, I had only one class scheduled, but it was canceled without my knowing because my students had to assist in a mock-수능 (Korean SAT) examination. While bummed that I did not get to do my Election Day lesson, at least this left me free to watch Election Day unfold on my own. I hooked up the smart screen in an empty classroom to the Huffington Post's awesome live-updated Election Results webpage. It was intense and thrilling to watch electoral votes get picked up by the dozens by Romney at first, but when the West Coast brought it back for Obama, I cheered. I was also glued to Time's live blog, CNN's minute-by-minute updates, and my Facebook feed, and I couldn't really get any work done.
After lunch, I came straight back to my classroom to watch the swing states (Ohio, Virginia, Florida, Colorado) battle it out on the smart screen, and some of my students came by to watch. Even though I didn't teach any classes today, I was able to teach a dozen or so interested first-years, as well as my English co-teachers, about the electoral college and other interesting tidbits about the election, such as voter disenfranchisement, the bicameral legislature, and "flip-flopping".
When California went to Obama, I cheered. When Oregon brought him over 200, I cheered. When Ohio and Pennsylvania turned definitely blue, I cheered! And my students were also in on it. I'm so glad that they showed some interest; arguably Korea's future relationship with the United States hinges on the re-election of a man who has better foreign policy experience (despite questionable educational ideologies).
In the end, I'm very proud of my president and pleased that he gets a second term. Obama is imperfect, of course. Who isn't? He was hesitant and obstructed in the past four years, but I'm confident that we will all look past the messy politics and that real change is on its way.
Here is a video of his victory speech in Chicago, from the Associated Press:
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
I Have No Words
In other news, my host brother is playing a game whose title translates into Dung Nourishment Simulation. It's a virtual pet that lives on his smartphone. And by pet, I mean a piece of poo. You feed it vegetables, fruits, and candy, and it gets bigger and does tricks, like grow and shrink or jump up and down. Watch the video below:
Later, he said, "My poo is 331 grams. 400 grams, it can stretching."
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| You can find some strange things on the Internet. |
Monday, November 5, 2012
Teaching Politics
I made a mistake today. Well, the mistake was yesterday, actually. Yesterday, I assumed that I would have enough time in the morning -- because I normally have no classes on Mondays before lunch -- to cobble together a quick lesson on American politics and the upcoming election for my first-years.
In Korea, never assume.
As soon as first period had started, one of my co-teachers came by my office and told me that the schedule for the second-years' college prep English conversation course had been finalized. Oh, yes, I forgot: November has been ushered in with a complete reshuffling of my second-year classes. Now, I had known this, but I forgot how soon the change would occur. To my dismay, the new schedule had bumped one of my first-year classes up to Mondays. Mondays at third period, to be exact. Which would begin in less than two hours.
I definitely had to scramble to get the lesson done, and it wasn't great. I essentially talked at my students for half an hour and then had them watch a snippet of Obama's acceptance speech at this year's Democratic National Convention. It was boring, some of them fell asleep, and the fault is entirely mine.
My co-teacher, always supportive, told me she thought it was a great lesson and that my timing was perfect. I thanked her for the compliment, but I completely disagree; it was a crappy lesson, and I should have begun planning it last week. I sat right back down at my desk after third period, and worked on it during fourth, fifth, and sixth, as well, to fix it for the next class. I did some quick research. I made a ballot box out of an empty box of chocopie (always useful; I'd like more). And I went to seventh period armed and ready!
Fortunately, version 2.0 of the Election Day lesson went wonderfully. I began the class with hangman, which, I have discovered this late in the game, all of my students love unconditionally. "Exercise your right to vote!" And then I had them brainstorm types of government. This was hilarious, as I got some of the usual, "democracy", "kingdom", "socialism"... and then some more creative answers: "non-government" (anarchy), "priest-government" (theocracy), and "dictation" (dictatorship). And then a poor student tried to say "vassalage", and I have no idea where he learned that word -- even I couldn't decipher what he was trying to say (or spell; he tried V-A-S-S-L-L-G-E) for several minutes. So, yes, today I went on a tangent and told my students about feudalism.
After introducing the current candidates for tomorrow's election, with some awesome coincidental mnemonics (Democrat, Donkey, Obama, Biden, Blue, Left-wing vs. Republican, Elephant, Romney, Ryan, Red, Right-wing), I actually had my students vote! I presented Obama's and Romney's stances -- extremely simplified, and non-partisan -- on education, the environment, the economy, healthcare, and same-sex marriage (information grabbed hastily and gratefully from aljazeera), and then passed out mock ballots for the "state" of Changwon Science High School. Our constituents were voting on President and also the passage of a certain Proposition 31, which would continue funding for English classes at our school even though "we suddenly have no more money".
I am happy to report that in Class 1-3, Obama won and Proposition 31 was passed, both by a landslide. Here's hoping for the best come November 6th! (My absentee ballot still hasn't been received by Delaware County...)
In Korea, never assume.
As soon as first period had started, one of my co-teachers came by my office and told me that the schedule for the second-years' college prep English conversation course had been finalized. Oh, yes, I forgot: November has been ushered in with a complete reshuffling of my second-year classes. Now, I had known this, but I forgot how soon the change would occur. To my dismay, the new schedule had bumped one of my first-year classes up to Mondays. Mondays at third period, to be exact. Which would begin in less than two hours.
I definitely had to scramble to get the lesson done, and it wasn't great. I essentially talked at my students for half an hour and then had them watch a snippet of Obama's acceptance speech at this year's Democratic National Convention. It was boring, some of them fell asleep, and the fault is entirely mine.
My co-teacher, always supportive, told me she thought it was a great lesson and that my timing was perfect. I thanked her for the compliment, but I completely disagree; it was a crappy lesson, and I should have begun planning it last week. I sat right back down at my desk after third period, and worked on it during fourth, fifth, and sixth, as well, to fix it for the next class. I did some quick research. I made a ballot box out of an empty box of chocopie (always useful; I'd like more). And I went to seventh period armed and ready!
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| My MacGyvered ballot box, made from an empty chocopie box, plus ballots. |
After introducing the current candidates for tomorrow's election, with some awesome coincidental mnemonics (Democrat, Donkey, Obama, Biden, Blue, Left-wing vs. Republican, Elephant, Romney, Ryan, Red, Right-wing), I actually had my students vote! I presented Obama's and Romney's stances -- extremely simplified, and non-partisan -- on education, the environment, the economy, healthcare, and same-sex marriage (information grabbed hastily and gratefully from aljazeera), and then passed out mock ballots for the "state" of Changwon Science High School. Our constituents were voting on President and also the passage of a certain Proposition 31, which would continue funding for English classes at our school even though "we suddenly have no more money".
I am happy to report that in Class 1-3, Obama won and Proposition 31 was passed, both by a landslide. Here's hoping for the best come November 6th! (My absentee ballot still hasn't been received by Delaware County...)
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| Look, this voter wrote "I like gay~!" Warms my heart, especially since the average Korean high school classroom is fairly homophobic. When I introduced Obama's and Romney's stances on same-sex marriage -- actually, as soon as I said "same-sex marriage", the whole class went, "Ooooohhhhhhh!!!!1!!1!11" as if I had said a dirty word. |
Sunday, November 4, 2012
A Swattie Reunion in Busan
The Swatties strike again! I had the pleasure of meeting up with Kevin ('11) and Natalia ('12) this weekend in Busan. Kevin is teaching English at a rural elementary school on a TALK (Teach And Learn in Korea) scholarship, and Natalia is studying Mandarin Chinese in Beijing. Because Natalia has a week-long break following the end of her first semester, she flew over the East China Sea to Korea to visit some of the dozens of Swatties who are here. (To fly from Beijing to Busan takes about two hours.)
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| Galmaegisal (skirtmeat) barbecue at Seolae. |
On the first evening, we met up at Gwangan (neighborhood of the famous Gwangalli Bridge) and got dinner at a great barbecue chain restaurant called 서래 (Seolae). The place was busy and the space inside was pretty cramped for our group of five, but we got some delicious barbecue. The specialty of this restaurant chain is 갈매기살 (galmaegisal), which is called "skirtmeat" in English. This is the meat around the diaphragm and liver, and it's the kind often used in fajitas. Our meat that night had been marinated in something special that made it very tender and very spicy. 억수로 맛있다! Seoul Food has a more comprehensive review here. The price came out to about 10,000₩ (<$10) per person, including drinks (소주 and 맥주, which gave me some embarrassing Asian glow). Great restaurant, right by the beach!
That was our next destination, chilling on Gwangalli Beach just to see the lights on the bridge and cool off after a spicy meal. It was nice to catch up with Natalia and Kevin, chatting about Swat news, of course, among other things.
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| Swatties at Gwangalli Beach! Me, Natalia, and Kevin. (taken by Jamie) |
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| Natalia and Monica at noraebang. |
Later, when Kevin and some others in our group left, Monica, a Fulbrighter in Busan, joined us and we went to a 노래방 (noraebang) for everyone's favorite: karaoke! This 노래방 was right on the beach; I forget its name, but it was just 15,000₩ for an hour, no drink purchase necessary. In fact, we got some free apple juice just for the heck of it. (서비스, or service, is a Konglish word that means "complimentary stuff".) I totally sang Starships. And Mrs. Robinson (Swatsick...). And Beyonce. And I even tried a G-Dragon song and butchered it. It was a blast!
It was around midnight when we finished, and I had already missed the last regular bus back to Busan by several hours. Fortunately, Natalia's couchsurfing host was incredibly gracious and said that I could crash the night at her place, as well, on a spare air mattress she had. I was extremely thankful for this. We talked all night about Korea, weddings, and Glee. I slept well, and we left at noon the next morning.
People have been talking up couchsurfing like nothing else recently (especially my globe-trotting friend Miyuki, and my first experience with it was so generous that I've decided to sign up for it and see where else I can travel. I would gladly host anyone coming through Changwon if only I lived in my own apartment, but unfortunately, that's not really the case right now.
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| Street food: 호떡 (hotteok), which is so incredibly nommable. Deep-friend pancakes filled with melted cinnamon sugar, pine nuts, and peanuts. This particular vendor had a long line of people waiting, which doesn't mean slow service but instead top-notch quality. |
Sunday was a laid-back, drizzly day. Natalia and I took the subway to Seomyeon, the downtown area. At the subway station, we had a "stupid foreigners" moment and I accidentally made Natalia buy a multiple-trip card instead of a one-trip ticket. To our surprise and amazement, we were very quickly and efficiently helped out by some of the workers at the information office, who 1) gave Natalia a refund on the card that she shouldn't have bought and 2) walked us through how to use the correct ticketing machines (which we had not noticed before going to the wrong machines). Three cheers for patient, polite, and helpful Korean public service workers!
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| Woojung's Bibimbap in Seomyeon. |
At Seomyeon, we met up with Kevin again and had lunch at Woojung's Bibimbap, and then chilled the afternoon away at an adorable cafe called Tokyoloose. Perks of the bibimbap restaurant included the cheapest 돌솥 비빔밥 (dolsot bibimbap, or stone bowl mixed rice) that I've had in Korea, at 4,000₩, as well as good service, its plain interior and staff of irritable ajummas notwithstanding.
Tokyoloose, on the other hand, is the very paragon of Korea-cute. Stuffed animals, lacy place mats, decor that looked like we landed in France in the '40s... As Kevin described it, "Like Japan's interpretation of an antique French country house." Really, all you need are some photos in order to understand what I mean. Oh, and the drinks and desserts were just great, with almost everything on the menu in the 4-6,000₩ range.
Tokyoloose, on the other hand, is the very paragon of Korea-cute. Stuffed animals, lacy place mats, decor that looked like we landed in France in the '40s... As Kevin described it, "Like Japan's interpretation of an antique French country house." Really, all you need are some photos in order to understand what I mean. Oh, and the drinks and desserts were just great, with almost everything on the menu in the 4-6,000₩ range.
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| Cafe Tokyoloose, located on the second floor of a building somewhat far from the main bustling streets of Seomyeon. |
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| The surprisingly large and spacious interior, well-lit and overwhelmingly cute. Light jazz playing on the radio. |
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| Natalia and Kevin at Tokyoloose. Note the lacy place mats, the antique clock, large windows, and the enormous stuffed giraffe. |
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| So there was a "Dress Shop" inside the cafe with clothes that you could try on... but they weren't for sale... And there was a mirror, so I guess the whole point was just to try on cute clothes and silly hats while you waited for your green tea latte? |
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| Oh, yes, and there was also food. A lemon tart presented to us with instructions on how to properly eat it (squeeze the lemon slice over it first, and then alternate small bites of pie and ice cream). |
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| Banana chocolate roll, with truffles and almonds! |
I'm planning to write reviews of both of these places on Fulbright Infusion's city guide soon, as they were both fantastic and deserve a bit more attention. As you can probably tell from all the photos I took at Tokyoloose, I really loved it and would definitely go back again. Besides the cafe itself, though, it was a wonderful afternoon spent with friends. As I've said before and will say again, I really enjoy getting together with Swatties in a place that is not Swarthmore. The farther away from Swarthmore, actually, the more fun it seems to be.
Friday, November 2, 2012
The Vanguard
SY comes to find me as I finish lunch in the cafeteria. I'm always one of the last to finish; most of the other teachers have left, so I'm easy to spot.
"Hi, SY! What's up?"
"Um... nothing much! You?" He's catching on to the slang that I taught my students a few weeks ago.
"I'm good. Do you have any entrance exams this weekend?"
"Oh, no..." He grimaces, but I don't catch it.
"Well, that's great! Aren't you happy?"
"No, I'm very bad," he says, putting his head in his hands and sighing.
I get him to explain, with the help of my co-teacher, who is sitting with us. The majority of the second-years at my school have been stressed out about science university entrance examinations, which have been taking place on the weekends of September and October. They are short oral interviews that test applicants on anything ever covered in their science and math curricula. For students who want to get into the likes of KAIST, UNIST, and POSTECH, acceptance hinges on their results on these very difficult exams.
As it turns out, SY doesn't have any more exams, because he already sat for all those of the schools to which he'd applied. And he was not accepted to any of them.
My heart sinks at this news. I forget about my lunch and look across the table at the high school student sitting there, processing the fact that he will not be going to college next year.
But then I remember something: SY is a second-year. (He's only at the equivalence of junior year of high school.) I wonder to myself, did he really expect to be accepted into some of the most competitive institutions in the country one year ahead of the rest of his peers?
I guess SY's entire class of eighty had high hopes. They're the vanguard, after all. The first graduating class of Changwon Science High. They need to prove that this city's enormous investment into their education at this shiny new school was worth the millions. Everyone -- teachers, principals, parents, peers -- has been pushing them nonstop for two years, equipping them for the controversial early application process that many science high school students pursue. They cram as much physics, chemistry, and biology into their heads as humanly possible in two years and then take the entrance exams at the same time as the third-year students at other high schools. Are the odds stacked against them? Incredibly so. But the extremely confident -- and I would add starry-eyed -- faculty here project a minimum yield of thirty accepted students. This would catapult CSHS to a high spot in the science high school rankings. Everyone has high hopes.
"Next year, can you go Yongji Lake?"
I tell SY to let me know whenever he goes downtown to jam at the lake. It doesn't matter if it's in the dead of winter. I'll be there.
"Hi, SY! What's up?"
"Um... nothing much! You?" He's catching on to the slang that I taught my students a few weeks ago.
"I'm good. Do you have any entrance exams this weekend?"
"Oh, no..." He grimaces, but I don't catch it.
"Well, that's great! Aren't you happy?"
"No, I'm very bad," he says, putting his head in his hands and sighing.
I get him to explain, with the help of my co-teacher, who is sitting with us. The majority of the second-years at my school have been stressed out about science university entrance examinations, which have been taking place on the weekends of September and October. They are short oral interviews that test applicants on anything ever covered in their science and math curricula. For students who want to get into the likes of KAIST, UNIST, and POSTECH, acceptance hinges on their results on these very difficult exams.
As it turns out, SY doesn't have any more exams, because he already sat for all those of the schools to which he'd applied. And he was not accepted to any of them.
My heart sinks at this news. I forget about my lunch and look across the table at the high school student sitting there, processing the fact that he will not be going to college next year.
But then I remember something: SY is a second-year. (He's only at the equivalence of junior year of high school.) I wonder to myself, did he really expect to be accepted into some of the most competitive institutions in the country one year ahead of the rest of his peers?
I guess SY's entire class of eighty had high hopes. They're the vanguard, after all. The first graduating class of Changwon Science High. They need to prove that this city's enormous investment into their education at this shiny new school was worth the millions. Everyone -- teachers, principals, parents, peers -- has been pushing them nonstop for two years, equipping them for the controversial early application process that many science high school students pursue. They cram as much physics, chemistry, and biology into their heads as humanly possible in two years and then take the entrance exams at the same time as the third-year students at other high schools. Are the odds stacked against them? Incredibly so. But the extremely confident -- and I would add starry-eyed -- faculty here project a minimum yield of thirty accepted students. This would catapult CSHS to a high spot in the science high school rankings. Everyone has high hopes.
But late October and November are times of anxiety and despair for many as they receive negative results. Some of my students have been accepted; I don't know who, because they seem to keep this information private. But the rest of them are now preparing for year three and a second chance.
"Hey, you know what? On the bright side, I can teach you for one more year now!"
Back to lunch, where I smile as hard as I can and try to steer the conversation away from the depressing topic of college rejection letters. Actually, SY remains optimistic despite his huge disappointment, because, he tells me with a small grin, his sore throat is finally getting better. He wants to begin practicing his gig for the school festival in December: lead vocals in the student band. He also wants to perform at Yongji Lake alongside the other buskers next summer. (Now that it's autumn, the weather is too cold.) But he's worried that I'll have already gone back to the U.S. by the time school lets out next July. He already knows that I have to go home for Christmas before the school festival takes place.
"Hey, you know what? On the bright side, I can teach you for one more year now!"
Back to lunch, where I smile as hard as I can and try to steer the conversation away from the depressing topic of college rejection letters. Actually, SY remains optimistic despite his huge disappointment, because, he tells me with a small grin, his sore throat is finally getting better. He wants to begin practicing his gig for the school festival in December: lead vocals in the student band. He also wants to perform at Yongji Lake alongside the other buskers next summer. (Now that it's autumn, the weather is too cold.) But he's worried that I'll have already gone back to the U.S. by the time school lets out next July. He already knows that I have to go home for Christmas before the school festival takes place.
"Next year, can you go Yongji Lake?"
I tell SY to let me know whenever he goes downtown to jam at the lake. It doesn't matter if it's in the dead of winter. I'll be there.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
NaNoWriMo
National Novel Writing Month has arrived once again, and this time, I am determined to conquer it. My previous two tries, one during sophomore year of high school and the other during college, were met with abject failure due to poor scheduling and general time constraints.
I realized during college that I would never have enough time during the month of November to write a novel, what with exams, papers, and life all getting in the way. (This did not stop several of my fellow Swatties from winning NaNoWriMo, however. Just me. Because I'm weak.) So, I decided that I would put the endeavor off until the year after college, when I would presumably not have to write any more papers and be free to write nothing but 50,000 words of fiction and fantasy for thirty days.
But then Fulbright happened, and I now have a full-time job that has me correcting hundreds of really poorly written essays until the wee hours of the morning. And then I signed up to take the GRE on the 25th. So I realized another thing: I still probably can't do NaNoWriMo. At least not on my own.
And then a wonderful thing happened. I teamed up with my friend Sara, who writes a lot, and we hatched a brilliant ploy to win NaNoWriMo together by co-authoring a story about recent college grads figuring out post-graduate life in an unspecified city on the East Coast of the United States. We will write alternating chapters told from different characters' points of view, and they may or may not meet at some point in the story. Not everything is planned out yet (in fact, almost nothing is planned out yet), but it will be interesting to watch the story and characters grow along the way. NaNoWriMo is supposed to be a reckless writing frenzy, anyway, and bringing a friend along for the ride is an awesome choice, in my opinion.
Is it even allowed? I don't know, but that's beside the point. This will be a fun project for November. In fact, I've already started: I had a blast with my first 2,000 words, and I even conjured up a rudimentary plan of the unspecified city. NaNoWriMo will be a good way to fill in random free hours between classes when I don't have to lesson plan. Plus, I'm justifying the time I'll spend on writing as practice for the GRE. Yes, GRE vocab will be sprinkled throughout my writing, like chocolate chips in a loaf of banana bread. Mmm, delicious vocabulary.
If you're doing NaNoWriMo, please let me know! Sara and I will need accountability buddies and friends off of whom to bounce ideas!
Here we go!
I realized during college that I would never have enough time during the month of November to write a novel, what with exams, papers, and life all getting in the way. (This did not stop several of my fellow Swatties from winning NaNoWriMo, however. Just me. Because I'm weak.) So, I decided that I would put the endeavor off until the year after college, when I would presumably not have to write any more papers and be free to write nothing but 50,000 words of fiction and fantasy for thirty days.
But then Fulbright happened, and I now have a full-time job that has me correcting hundreds of really poorly written essays until the wee hours of the morning. And then I signed up to take the GRE on the 25th. So I realized another thing: I still probably can't do NaNoWriMo. At least not on my own.
And then a wonderful thing happened. I teamed up with my friend Sara, who writes a lot, and we hatched a brilliant ploy to win NaNoWriMo together by co-authoring a story about recent college grads figuring out post-graduate life in an unspecified city on the East Coast of the United States. We will write alternating chapters told from different characters' points of view, and they may or may not meet at some point in the story. Not everything is planned out yet (in fact, almost nothing is planned out yet), but it will be interesting to watch the story and characters grow along the way. NaNoWriMo is supposed to be a reckless writing frenzy, anyway, and bringing a friend along for the ride is an awesome choice, in my opinion.
Is it even allowed? I don't know, but that's beside the point. This will be a fun project for November. In fact, I've already started: I had a blast with my first 2,000 words, and I even conjured up a rudimentary plan of the unspecified city. NaNoWriMo will be a good way to fill in random free hours between classes when I don't have to lesson plan. Plus, I'm justifying the time I'll spend on writing as practice for the GRE. Yes, GRE vocab will be sprinkled throughout my writing, like chocolate chips in a loaf of banana bread. Mmm, delicious vocabulary.
If you're doing NaNoWriMo, please let me know! Sara and I will need accountability buddies and friends off of whom to bounce ideas!
Here we go!
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