'Korea' Moments, and Smiling More

I was walking down the street today after work through a bar district. I came across a group of bikers gathered around their Harleys, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, swigging soju and probably gruffly cursing in Korean (I don't know enough to say one way or the other). I guess I was a little intimidated, and I didn't make eye contact or anything. The idea of Korean bikers might seem a little funny to you, reader, and it seems a little funny to me, too, but let me assure you these guys were the real deal. At least, they were as real as bikers can get over here.

Anyway, after taking in the scene for a second or two and getting past that first impression, I looked up to read the name on the bar where they'd decided to gather. It read: "Kenny G Bar."

This is what is called by me and many other expats over here a 'Korea Moment.' It's a point in time where expectations get confounded by Western perceptions, to put a dictionary.com spin on it. It's when 1+1=3. It's usually the highlight of my day.

Today was otherwise highlight-less. Joanne and I had the first of two Open House Days, in which the kindies' mommies come to SLP and meet with the directors and such, and then spend 45 minutes sitting in our class while we coteach. Everything went fine, though Joanne was upset because one kid burst into tears when we asked him to answer a question he's been given everyday for the past four months ("Sung Pil, how are you today?" answer: Crying) and another yawned a few times. I thought she was getting a bit too wrapped up in the whole thing, but of course I don't have to talk to these mommies, they're just 10 more expressionless ajummas like the ones I pass on the street everyday...I don't have to interact with them...she's the one who has to field their pointless phone calls about Yoo Jin not getting enough rice at lunch or Myung Bin having trouble reading my handwriting.

To be honest the whole exercise is so bizarre and pointless that, as I so often do, I just insulated myself from worry with a nice fuzzy blanket of not-giving-a-shit. In that way it's like so many other things here in Korea... But what I mean is that at SLP we ALREADY have cameras in every classroom and a special room set up for the mommies to come watch the classes whenever they want, but on top of that we want to set aside a special day for them to all crowd into our little classroom where we know the kids will be distracted and/or disturbed by their presence (see: Sung Pil) and as such the viewers will get (probably) an inaccurate impression of how much their son/daughter has learned, and to make matters worse instead of having a normal teaching day where there is one teacher and 10 students, we make the co-teachers teach together in front of the class so that they can stumble over each other as they try to adhere to what they normally do with a lesson, and then after we've warped the system and fucked everything up we have to listen to these mommies complain about things going wrong that would've been right on a normal fucking day when there was one teacher and 10 students in the class and pale faced permed up ajumma was sitting alone sipping overhot green tea in the observation room in front of a bunch of monitors.

As I said there's no point getting too wrapped up in this shit. And there were few complaints, and, if my boss can be trusted (which is quite a big if) none of them had anything to do with our teaching style, but were about institutional problems at SLP.

Honestly the most trying thing about the day was having to remember to smile. A few weeks ago my boss observed my class and his biggest complaint was that I didn't smile enough. No shit. Not a smiler, here. I mean I like to laugh as much as the next person but I'm not someone who normally walks around with a big grin on my face, and when I try to pretend I always come off looking like a deranged escaped mental patient. With the kindies I've just been being myself, and I get along fine with them, but apparently that's not good enough for the mommies so the word was passed down that I had to up my grinning by a good 25%. That was a fun adjustment.

What else, what else. I got my first Korean haircut the other day and it went really smoothly, which was a tremendous surprise, and it only cost owe-cheon (5,000). I've started to get a pretty good grip on the number system, and I actually understand what someone is saying when they tell me the price. This has made things a lot better.

Oh, here's a pop quiz for the rare reader who's made it this far. I mentioned a few Korean names in this post, Sung Pil, Myung Bin, and Yoo Jin. Try to guess which of them are boys, and which are girls. I'll post the answer next time. Until then,