Remembering Papa Sam

In my grandparent's colonial, yellow Connecticut home, there is a room -- the living room -- which is essentially a time capsule from the 1970's.  It is a striking place, with shag carpeting, shiny-rimmed mirrors with geometric patterns, and psychedelic black and white curtains.  At one end of the room is a bar, complete with barstools and a dwindling stock of hard alcohol.  Next to the bar, glass shelves contain my grandmother's extensive collection of Waterford crystal, which only she is allowed to wash. Grandpa said he was going to take the room with him when he died.  Every Saturday, company or not, he would sit on a stool -- or eventually, his walker -- and have a glass of beer or watered whiskey, while...

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The Final Days

I'm composing this from Connecticut, where I have spent the past few weeks staring at all the non-Koreans, eating processed snacks, and trying not to bow when I say thank you.  But this will not be a post about transitioning back to America (which is kind of a disturbing place, as it turns out), but about my final days in Korea which I was too busy/tired to chronicle at the time.  And lazy.  That too. So here are some belated glimpses of my Korean finale:   December: SH hands me around nine resumes of young females from North America, and asks me to read through them and choose a few to interview.  School is in session, but we've finished the textbooks, and have embarked on a Home Alone marathon...

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Late

I've never had insomnia.  Not real, stay up all night, tossing and turning, mind whirring, insomnia.  The closest I've come is an hour or two falling asleep or upon waking in the middle of the night -- and these are extremely rare instances.  I get this trait from my father, who falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow.  There should be a word for that -- upon pillow-hit.  He says his deep sleeping is the sign of a clear conscience.  I'm not sure what that says about my mother. Tonight, I have decided to pull an all-nighter.  Or rather, the all-nighter was decided for me when I realized I had three hours of sleep left.  Actually, it was decided when I -- according to custom -- grossly underestimated the amount of time I would need to pack...

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Day 357 - What I will miss about Korea

I'm not exactly sure what day I'm on, but it must be around the 357 range, because my contract is a year, and I'm leaving in five days, a bit before it officially ends. I am sometimes very bad at creating closure with people, places, ages, etc., but my goodbye to Korea has been slow and long, so I thought I'd take a moment to write out some of the things I will miss. Things I will miss about living/teaching in Korea: - Walking around by myself past midnight and feeling completely safe.  I have never felt as safe in a country as I do here.  (Which is ironic, as I'm on the border of a crazy-eyed, nuke-happy dictator).  -  Low crime in general.  I haven't had to think about pickpockets.  My friends have had...

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The one about Valentine's Day

When I was eight, my classmates drew names for Valentine's and then decorated a cupcake and made an acrostic out of the person's name.  A kid called Justin (I think?) got me and used the "I" in my name to write "I like her a lot," which we both got teased about.  Korea is the mother of cute.  Really.  Everything is ribbons, pink, hellokitty, skirts, dresses, heels, kpop, cursive all-year-long.  Couples wear matching outfits -- shirts, pants, shoes, coats, hats, all-year-long.  (As my friend Lauren asked: When/how do they have that talk?  Is it around the three month mark?  Are the guys into it?)  My wardrobe has not been immune to the cute.  Pink is now all over my...

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The Deal with Winter Camp and Desk Warming

Winter Camp Winter English Camp is a camp during winter vacation that most public school teachers are required to teach.  Depending on your school, it can range from a few days to a few weeks.  During the rest of the school holiday, English public school teachers are still required to come in, even though there are no classes and no other teachers.  We affectionately call this time "Desk Warming." Winter Camp is entirely in the hands of the English teacher.  (Or, most are.)  I was the one who planned it and taught it.  It runs from 8:30-12:30, with the afternoons free for planning.  Mine was set up so that 9:00-9:40 was 1st/2nd grade for two weeks, and 9:50-12:10 was 3/4th grade for the first...

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Adaptibility, the good, the bad, and the pretty

Throughout high school, my class was told -- as every class should be -- that we were bright, capable, full of potential, and the future was not simply in our hands; it was us.  We were also told that we were special because we had grown up overseas and had a sense of the changing world, of cultural interactions, of adaptability.  Highly adaptable, they told us.  Highly adaptable from the moving, the transitioning, the juggling of culture and language and family and streams of friends passing through.  I've been thinking about adaptability lately, or rather, I've been thinking about what it often comes hand-in-hand with -- getting used to situations. "Man is a creature who can get used to anything, and I believe...

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