The Unpopular Teacher

It has been hard to come to terms with it. Maybe my first clue was when I sashayed into a classroom full of 3-year-olds for the first time, smiled and said “Good morning!” A little girl looked up at me and screamed with what can only be described as pure horror. And that was just the beginning. Over the last three weeks it has been made clear to me that I am the most unpopular teacher.

When other teachers walk into the school in the morning, the children run up to them to hug them and greet them. When I come in, the kids by the door struggle to put on their school shoes faster to avoid any interaction whatsoever. Children seem to wander somewhat freely from room to room, with the exception of the English Room. The bravest kids will run to my window, scream “Hello!” and run away. This is a sign of daring behavior, a devil-may-care attitude that causes the rest of the class to giggle nervously every time the feat is performed.

There is an outgoing and somewhat oblivious 3-year-old that comes in on occasion and chats to herself in Korean while smearing her spit all over everything. “Yes, that’s a lion! Please don’t lick, hajima….jinja….okay, it’s yummy? Okay, yummy lion! L-l-lion!” I look forward to these visits.

I know I’m scary. I speak almost only English in class, and I’m strange looking. Compared to a bunch of beautiful Korean girls speaking to the kids in their native language, it’s no wonder there’s a stigma attached to my presence.

I didn’t care much, until I saw the TaeKwonDo teacher. He was in the gym with my favorite class, playing some kind of parachute game with the kids. Their faces were literally aglow with excitement and sheer happiness. Kids, why don’t you smile that way when you’re conjugating ‘to have’? Was my ‘who has the red marker’ game not equally great?

They’re talking and joking with him in the hallway. They’re fighting each other for his attention. Hey, there’s an adult down the hall who will listen to your jokes! And if you ask me if I’ll eat a dragon, I’ll say “yes!” That cracks you up, remember? Marina Teacher is cool, too!

As memories of popularity from my old job wear off, so does my enthusiasm for extracurricular interaction. I don’t bother the kids with simple questions or comments outside of class. If a kid screams at my door, I just offer a (condescending) smile and half-wave. I march into classrooms prepared to talk about ‘was’ and ‘is’, and I will take no nonsense. Including answering the favorite silly question of the five-year-olds, “Do you like hammer?” That’s. Not. Funny. We are here to learn the English. Now settle down and listen up. The unpopular teacher is talking.

“Welcome to HPS Playschool. You will be paid in Promotional Eye Cream.”

After putting in a year at Banana Kids, I managed to escape unscathed and land a new contract at HPS Playschool. This is very different from my other jobs, since the entire staff actively refuses to speak English. Which is not necessarily a bad thing; I’m automatically excused from all staff meetings.

On the first day, I went in to prep. The kids were coming the next day, so it was staff only in the building. The woman who I thought was my supervisor had texted me a few days before asking me to come in at 11:00 AM. At 10:50 AM, I got a phone call from her:

Diane: Hi, this is Diane, where are you?
Me: I’m a stop away!
Diane: We want you are coming at 12:00.
Me: Well, I’m already basically there, I guess I could wait nearby…
Diane: No, 2:00!
Me: Uhh, okay, maybe I could go eat lunch…
Diane: You are coming one hour before!
Me: Your text said 11:00, anyway, I’m almost there?

And THEN when I got to the school, Diane wasn’t there! There was no mention of Diane, ever again. I feel like I’m in one of those movies where I hallucinated a person and a job interview and I’ll never find out until I’m in a strait jacket.

Anyway, as per Korean culture, instead of being directly accused of being an hour late, cryptic questions were posed to me, like “Is your home far from this work?” “Is the subway difficult to navigate?” Having no graceful way to say ‘Diane told me the wrong time! Look at this text I have here to prove it!!!’ I was cornered into smiling and acting oblivious. (At the time, I thought covering for my supervisor’s error would pay off in the long run. Unfortunately, it appears my supervisor no longer exists.)

After an hour or two of looking over class plans and materials, I was ushered into another classroom for lunch. A man with a computer showing a Powerpoint presentation stood at the front. I thought he was the owner presenting something about the school, so I was super-obsequious. He gave me a tray of meats that I don’t eat and offered me a seat. I tried to look like I was eating by pushing rice around on my plate, and my co-worker mistook my dissimulation for a difficulty with chopsticks and brought me a fork.

While agonizing over the potential fall-out of not accepting food from the boss, I tried to create the appearance of listening politely to his speech. I understood nothing, but after he began clicking through slides I realized that he was not the boss, but an alternative weight loss and skin treatment salesman.

The vast majority of his speech was lost on me, but occasionally he would ask questions like “who here would like to have better skin? Raise your hand if you want to turn back the clock!” and some girls would raise their hands. Then in the middle he stopped and asked me (in Korean) “Do you understand this?” and I was like, (in Korean) “I understand eye cream.” I really got the crowd laughing with that one.

Then he said something, and everyone was going around the table saying numbers. I have no idea what the context was, but I said a number (155) and I won an eye cream tube! I imagine it was some sort of guessing game. I like to pretend that I guessed the value of the product, but honestly I doubt anyone would pay 155 Won for that stuff.

It was all downhill from there. The salesman sprayed something really painful into our noses that was supposed to make us not hungry. Then he made us chew on some horrible capsules for the same reason. By the end of the lunch, it was readily apparent that no one was eating it.

Now I have a coupon for a limited-time offer to buy a big package of whatever he’s selling for 550 Won (about 500 USD). Also, everyone got a free face mask. I don’t want to use it, but I feel bad throwing it out when I consider the physical pain I endured to obtain it.

I’m comforted by the fact that if my new job ever becomes too much, we’re housed in the same building as the Seoul Dementia Center. I hope I don’t need it.

I Don't Condone this Condom Bag

There's an old woman on my street who uses the back of a truck as a rotisserie to cook chickens. It's 4,000 Won (about $4USD) for a whole rotisserie chicken.

I gave it a try the other day. It's stuffed with rice, garlic, and raisins. Yum! It also comes in a large bag originally used for condoms. The writing was all in English, so I guess she had no idea.

I was a little grossed out, and also perplexed about how she got this bag? Why does she have access to a bag intended for people buying condoms in bulk?

Anyway, I still ate the whole thing. In one sitting. I consoled myself with the fact that these condoms were both "Elite" AND "Superior".

Hilarious Typos

Yesterday, I went to Home Plus. I was in the cleaning section. There was a mop. It had a label. The label read, "Moping for Room." AHAHAHA!

Yellow Dust

The weather forecast currently reads, 41 degress with haze. That "haze" is yellow dust from China. I didn't think the pollution here would be an issue, but over the past two weeks I have had all of the symptoms of a cold (sore throat, stuffy nose, hacking cough) without being sick. I need my glasses more than before, because it's hard to see through the haze. My co-workers can't wear their contacts anymore. It is disgusting. I'm thinking of buying a mask to wear on bad days. Also, what am I supposed to do when I want to let fresh air in? Is opening the window still better than letting the air get stale in my apt?

This sucks.

The Glory of the Wholesale

On Friday after work I wanted to walk around an unexplored part of Seoul, so I of course went to a place I've been dozens of times, Dongdaemun! I usually go to district one, which is full of beautiful, trendy clothes and people. Also, there are lots of outdoor performances in district one, usually by teenage boys dancing to pop songs. On Friday, I ventured into District Two.

Never have I ever been allowed into wholesale stores before. The showrooms in France would let me in sometimes, but would never tell me a price, let alone allow me to buy something! In the States, I'm not even sure how I would go about finding a wholesale warehouse that would let me in to nose around. So after toujours hearing "non", there was something really exciting about being able to just walk in, no questions asked.

I've been really curious about the facade that goes into selling clothes. My Economics professor insisted that all prices are exactly equal to their worth, but after working retail I think that's ridiculous. After watching Calvin Klein underwear go down from $12/pair to $4/pair, and seeing people pay both prices, I think it's all about luck. After all, fashion doesn't change so quickly that those basic pink briefs could be outmoded by 66% in two months. Somebody got ripped off, but because not enough people fell for it, the rest of us got the price we deserved (excess supply!) Anyway, every time I buy clothes and accessories, I get caught up in the same question: what is this actually worth? Straight from the distributor, what did the shop-owner pay?

The answer is, from a brief survey in Konglish, that clothes tend to be marked up about 300%, and bags maybe 200%. Of course, with clothes, you're paying for the convenience of a dressing room, something not available from wholesalers. In fact, at the wholesalers market, you can't even try on button-up sweaters. However, after visiting the "French Bag Market", I'm really glad that I never bought a pricey bag a block away in District One. In District Two, I found a high-quality, trendy leather bag for under $60.00. The price tag says $140.00, a price that I would have found completely reasonable (even on the low side) in District One.

Directions to Gwanghee Fashion Mall, where wholesale leather goods are sold: From Dongdaemun Stadium Station, walk down the street towards the N. side of the stadium (Migliore, Doosan Tower on your left.) Follow the stadium around, there will be a Coffee Bean on your right and an Art Gallery, keep going. The Gwanghee Fashion Mall is on your left. It doesn't open until about 9:00 PM, though, so don't show up early and then overstay your single beverage at a busy coffee shop! (Whoops.)

Chance

An average subway ride for me consists of brief stares from adults, long stares from children, and silence. Or maybe once a week the jovial "hello! where prum?", and an occasional Jehovah's Witness trying to save my wayward soul. So Sunday night was really unusual in that I was approached by not one, but two old men, who were apparently unrelated.

The first old man was yelling at an old woman walking away from him when I came onto the car, insisting that she sit in the special seats restricted to the elderly, disabled, and pregnant. She was by no standards good-looking, it was clearly a friendly invitation. She refused, and hobbled away alone. Because he was yelling in my general direction, standing up and seeming crazy, at first I didn't even turn around but instead presumed he was yelling at me. So both of us were actually protesting the invitation violently for about a minute. Then once I realized he wasn't talking to me I sat down, and after about ten seconds he noticed me and began to actually invite me over. I said no, and he got off the train two stops later. I looked at the guy across from me like 'what was that all about?' and he asked a question to the younger Korean guy next to him, I think he asked him how to say "I'm sorry" in English. I think this because after he asked him the question, the guy said "I"m sorry" in English. But he never said "I'm sorry" to me, he just got off the train.

Then, about two stops later, a couple with a little girl boarded, and so did another old man in hiking gear. Hiking gear is a staple of the elderly Korean's wardrobe. The family stood in front of me, and the old man stood separate. There was no apparent relation. This didn't stop him, though, from walking up to the little girl and yelling at her in Korean to practice her English, and repeatedly putting her hand into mine. Her parents were laughing indulgently, and she was turning bright red. I went along with it and said some basic stuff really slowly in between the old guy yelling at her. If she knew any English, no one was going to get it out of her. Then he asked me "where prum?" and exited. The family left a few stops later, re-enforcing my notion that there was no relation.

The coincidence of these two events happening on one subway ride, when I can go twenty or thirty in a row being left alone, reminds me of the danger of drawing a portrait of a place based on brief experience. Maybe I should stop calling Vienna seedy, or Switzerland happy. How long will it take before I have a really complete picture of the odds of any bizarre situation arising, as I do at home? I have seen many people throw up and pass out on the train, but last weekend was the first time I saw a police officer come onto the train because of it. Just when I thought I knew what was going on, the plot thickens.

In other news, I lost my camera, probably at a bar that I can't call because the number isn't listed. This is totally typical of Korea. I realized this when I reached in my bag to take a picture of "Chung's Pizza, A Delicious Concept for the Whole Family."