12:23 AM
Sho
My co-teacher has decided to extend her duties to include acting as my personal PR rep. - her latest mission has been cultivating an aura of mystery around me. Allow me to explain.
I'm at school for 40 hours a week, from 8:30-4:30. I teach 23 lessons a week (40 minutes each). This means that over half of my time is free for lesson planning and, more often, desk-warming -- a term we use for being paid to sit at our desks and - you know - look pretty. (Or dishevelled as the case may be.)
20+ hours of free time has provided me with excellent opportunities to chat with friends/family, read articles, blog, and generally allow my soul to be sucked online. In spite of the enormous productivity of this spare time, I welcome any break from the glowing portal of information. Which means when my kids come to socialize with me after school, I'm always receptive to their goofy attempts at interaction.
For example: yesterday I was perfectly willing to let them "interview me." Which, as it turns out, means recording a minute and a half of my reaction to a tinny version Gangnam Style on one of their cell phones. Even if I still liked Gangnam Style (and indeed I still wonder about how it would feel to be one of the yoga girls on that video...like what are they eating for breakfast now? Is it a point of pride to have been in that scene? Do they hide it from their conservative grandparents?), a cell phone is not the ideal medium to share it. Being the culturally sensitive person that I am, I smiled swayed my shoulders a bit as Psy shared his thoughts.
A word on Gangnam Style: Yes, I've heard it. Thank you, American friends, for sharing it with me, emailing it to me, posting it on my wall. I understand your concern that it might not be popular in Korea and that I am somehow missing out on America's obsession with my faux hometown. Trust me, I've heard it. And thank you, Korean students, for your concern that after threemonthsofithasbeenplayingnonstopeverywhere I might have somehow missed Psy or his charming horse dance. I have, in fact, not missed these things.
Proof? Here:
Scheduling appointments with Stewart Teacher
Yesterday, as I sat blogging during my freetime, two fifth grade girls came to the classroom door. SH went to the door and spoke with them quietly, and then called to me across the classroom.
"They want to talk to you."
I straightened up and adjusted my hair for the possibility of a third cellphone video interview. Actually, that's not true. I was zoned in on my typing, and nodded or mumbled something affirmative, until SH said "I don't want for them to come in."
Deciding not to mess with her power play, I headed to the door.
"$#%#$ee #$%#$%uh %$*ee," the students said excitedly. I smiled and shrugged.
"They want to play with you," SH translated.
I looked at her, a bit confused. They generally just came in and struck up stunted conversations and games with hand movements.
She read the question in my eyes. "I told them they cannot come without an appointment. Do you want to play with them?"
Cool. I'm important. "Sure." I said.
"When?"
"Any time."
This statement did not aid the aura of mystery that she was trying to cultivate. She looked at me, and her eyeballs told me to try again.
"Uh. How about Wednesday?" I have no classes this Wednesday. SH knows this.
"What time?"
"Any time." Eyeballs.
"How about 3:30?"
"That's great."
"$#*&&ee *#$&uh #$%ee!" the students were jabbering again.
"What game will you play?" SH asked. "I don't want you to play running game." (Last week we played dodgeball in the classroom. Fair enough."
The kids butted in. "#$%*(ee $%*uh $^*ee Mario!"
"They want to play Mario," she translated. Give me some credit SH.
"You do?" I asked.
They squealed.
I thought about it. All of the Mario games were full of English vocab questions.
"You want to play an English game?"
"#@(*! Yonga (*$#?" she translated.
"NE! NE!" (this means "yes" in Korean, and it actually sounds like "nay" but I can't bring myself to type it like that.)
"OK. We will play Mario game." This was me talking. My English abilities tend to try to meet SH in the middle.
As we walked back to our desks, SH mentioned again that we are very busy. "I have a lot of free time," I replied. Which is probably not something I should admit, but she has yet to give me busywork. "Yes. But I am very busy."
So, yes. I am now available by appointment only. Also, apparently some of my kids want to learn English in their free time.
**
SH sometimes talks to herself in English, which is about the most confusing thing she could possibly do.
It seems pretty natural for me to assume that the things she subconciously mutters would be in her language, and the things she wants to share would be in ours. Ours. We're a beautiful couple.
I'm at school for 40 hours a week, from 8:30-4:30. I teach 23 lessons a week (40 minutes each). This means that over half of my time is free for lesson planning and, more often, desk-warming -- a term we use for being paid to sit at our desks and - you know - look pretty. (Or dishevelled as the case may be.)
20+ hours of free time has provided me with excellent opportunities to chat with friends/family, read articles, blog, and generally allow my soul to be sucked online. In spite of the enormous productivity of this spare time, I welcome any break from the glowing portal of information. Which means when my kids come to socialize with me after school, I'm always receptive to their goofy attempts at interaction.
For example: yesterday I was perfectly willing to let them "interview me." Which, as it turns out, means recording a minute and a half of my reaction to a tinny version Gangnam Style on one of their cell phones. Even if I still liked Gangnam Style (and indeed I still wonder about how it would feel to be one of the yoga girls on that video...like what are they eating for breakfast now? Is it a point of pride to have been in that scene? Do they hide it from their conservative grandparents?), a cell phone is not the ideal medium to share it. Being the culturally sensitive person that I am, I smiled swayed my shoulders a bit as Psy shared his thoughts.
A word on Gangnam Style: Yes, I've heard it. Thank you, American friends, for sharing it with me, emailing it to me, posting it on my wall. I understand your concern that it might not be popular in Korea and that I am somehow missing out on America's obsession with my faux hometown. Trust me, I've heard it. And thank you, Korean students, for your concern that after threemonthsofithasbeenplayingnonstopeverywhere I might have somehow missed Psy or his charming horse dance. I have, in fact, not missed these things.
Proof? Here:
Scheduling appointments with Stewart Teacher
Yesterday, as I sat blogging during my freetime, two fifth grade girls came to the classroom door. SH went to the door and spoke with them quietly, and then called to me across the classroom.
"They want to talk to you."
I straightened up and adjusted my hair for the possibility of a third cellphone video interview. Actually, that's not true. I was zoned in on my typing, and nodded or mumbled something affirmative, until SH said "I don't want for them to come in."
Deciding not to mess with her power play, I headed to the door.
"$#%#$ee #$%#$%uh %$*ee," the students said excitedly. I smiled and shrugged.
"They want to play with you," SH translated.
I looked at her, a bit confused. They generally just came in and struck up stunted conversations and games with hand movements.
She read the question in my eyes. "I told them they cannot come without an appointment. Do you want to play with them?"
Cool. I'm important. "Sure." I said.
"When?"
"Any time."
This statement did not aid the aura of mystery that she was trying to cultivate. She looked at me, and her eyeballs told me to try again.
"Uh. How about Wednesday?" I have no classes this Wednesday. SH knows this.
 |
| Some of my 5th graders |
"What time?"
"Any time." Eyeballs.
"How about 3:30?"
"That's great."
"$#*&&ee *#$&uh #$%ee!" the students were jabbering again.
"What game will you play?" SH asked. "I don't want you to play running game." (Last week we played dodgeball in the classroom. Fair enough."
The kids butted in. "#$%*(ee $%*uh $^*ee Mario!"
"They want to play Mario," she translated. Give me some credit SH.
"You do?" I asked.
They squealed.
I thought about it. All of the Mario games were full of English vocab questions.
"You want to play an English game?"
"#@(*! Yonga (*$#?" she translated.
"NE! NE!" (this means "yes" in Korean, and it actually sounds like "nay" but I can't bring myself to type it like that.)
"OK. We will play Mario game." This was me talking. My English abilities tend to try to meet SH in the middle.
As we walked back to our desks, SH mentioned again that we are very busy. "I have a lot of free time," I replied. Which is probably not something I should admit, but she has yet to give me busywork. "Yes. But I am very busy."
So, yes. I am now available by appointment only. Also, apparently some of my kids want to learn English in their free time.
**
SH sometimes talks to herself in English, which is about the most confusing thing she could possibly do.
It seems pretty natural for me to assume that the things she subconciously mutters would be in her language, and the things she wants to share would be in ours. Ours. We're a beautiful couple.
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