7:12 PM
Sho
Typhoon Bolaven is expected to hit Paju around 2:00 pm today. No problem, said my school, our teachers are hearty, they shall still come in even though the students have the day off.
Yes. Come in during a typhoon to sit in an empty classroom.
This morning I woke up and texted my co-teacher. Koreans are big on the word "maybe." They generally use it to mean "absolutely" or "no way," depending on context. I'm not sure if there's a direct translation of a similar Korean word, or simply the favored English expression for avoiding conflict. "Maybe you shouldn't do that" sounds a lot nicer than "That is completely against the rules and you can never do it ever again."
I decided using the Korean "maybe" on my co-teacher this morning would be the politest way to tell her that maybe I didn't want to risk my life for desk warming.
My text: Do we still have to come in? It might not be safe. Maybe I will not come to school.
SH: I think you have to come to school although you are late. (I wasn't.) When it is worse and worse, ask principal to go home.
Maybe maybe doesn't always work.
When I arrived at school, we sat and stared at the bursts of leaves tossed by rising, moaning winds. I mentioned that it might be dangerous to take a bus when the storm hit. Which led to this conversation:
SH: Teachers are hired by government. We are government officials. But not you. So maybe you can go home. But you are teacher too! Do you understand?
Me: I can go?
SH: Maybe after morning. Maybe at 12. Vice Principal thinks you do not understand what Korean culture.
Me: ?
SH: We are government officials. All government officials work in emergency.
Me: But there's nothing to do.
SH: It's difficult to explain. It's complex.
Me: OK.
And then, at 10:20, we were notified that all teachers were allowed to leave at their leisure. SH decided to finish up a few plans, but I headed out. Downstairs I ran into one of the admin staff, a woman with short, dark hair in her early 40's with limited English. As we walked out together, she looked at me and then her car: "Bongilcheon?"
I nodded and followed her. She silently drove me home. It was pleasant.
**
In other news, my principal gave me a large shoebox full of weed for my birthday. Seaweed, that is - not that the translation of the gift included the "sea." I'm pretty excited because I really like seaweed, but I have no idea how I'm going to consume the amount he gave me.
**
My windows are flexing in the wind.
Yes. Come in during a typhoon to sit in an empty classroom.
This morning I woke up and texted my co-teacher. Koreans are big on the word "maybe." They generally use it to mean "absolutely" or "no way," depending on context. I'm not sure if there's a direct translation of a similar Korean word, or simply the favored English expression for avoiding conflict. "Maybe you shouldn't do that" sounds a lot nicer than "That is completely against the rules and you can never do it ever again."
I decided using the Korean "maybe" on my co-teacher this morning would be the politest way to tell her that maybe I didn't want to risk my life for desk warming.
My text: Do we still have to come in? It might not be safe. Maybe I will not come to school.
SH: I think you have to come to school although you are late. (I wasn't.) When it is worse and worse, ask principal to go home.
Maybe maybe doesn't always work.
When I arrived at school, we sat and stared at the bursts of leaves tossed by rising, moaning winds. I mentioned that it might be dangerous to take a bus when the storm hit. Which led to this conversation:
SH: Teachers are hired by government. We are government officials. But not you. So maybe you can go home. But you are teacher too! Do you understand?
Me: I can go?
SH: Maybe after morning. Maybe at 12. Vice Principal thinks you do not understand what Korean culture.
Me: ?
SH: We are government officials. All government officials work in emergency.
Me: But there's nothing to do.
SH: It's difficult to explain. It's complex.
Me: OK.
And then, at 10:20, we were notified that all teachers were allowed to leave at their leisure. SH decided to finish up a few plans, but I headed out. Downstairs I ran into one of the admin staff, a woman with short, dark hair in her early 40's with limited English. As we walked out together, she looked at me and then her car: "Bongilcheon?"
I nodded and followed her. She silently drove me home. It was pleasant.
**
In other news, my principal gave me a large shoebox full of weed for my birthday. Seaweed, that is - not that the translation of the gift included the "sea." I'm pretty excited because I really like seaweed, but I have no idea how I'm going to consume the amount he gave me.
**
My windows are flexing in the wind.
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