Merry Christmas!! It's Christmas Eve here and I just got back from a nice dinner with some friends. Tomorrow will be a nice lunch with one group of coworkers and then dinner with another set. This year, like all other years in Asia, I received some pretty entertaining Christmas cards and presents from my students (a jar of vitamins).
I thought I'd share a few from my kindergarten students (ages 5-6). None have been edited for spelling or punctuation.
"To Matt Teacher. You are the funniest teacher in the whole wide world. Merry Christmas. From, Christine." Christine is an angel from Heaven who could do no wrong. Surprisingly, she is not friends with Sally J.
"To Matt. Silly man! why do you call names! Then your Cat Matt. From Irene." Irene is referring to the fact that I have silly nicknames for most of the students. Chris for Christine, E.K. for Erika K, Sarah-Berra, etc. The kids claim they hate the names, but it's obvious they dig the attention.
"Dear Matt Merry Christmas December 24 2007 From Junho." This card is actually the best English I've ever seen Junho use. The boy has the attention span of a squirrel. He also has the widest, flattest head I've ever seen.
"Dear Matt teacher, Please marry me. I will be a good wife. I will cook breakfast. I can't cook breakfast but I will give you toast. If you are ready please call me. I wish you have a nice Christmas. Love, Amy." Toast? Hmm, it's tempting. She's the cutest little kid and isn't afraid to tell me how she feels. For Halloween, she told me she was dressing up as a bride and I should dress as the groom. When all the kindergarten students were telling me not to call them nicknames, Amy asked for the extreme opposite. She put her fists under her chin, gazed up at me, and said, "Teacher, you can call me Baby."
"Dear Matt teacher. Everybody says You are the funnyest Teacher that they ever saw. Merry Christmas and happy new year. I hope you have a nice Christmas. From: Holly." I promise she's saying I make the class laugh, not that I'm ugly.
"Dear Matt teacher, Merry Christmas and Happy New year. Thank you for teaching me hard things. I love you very much and you are very nice and kind. from: Andy." Andy was the lead in my Christmas play. He's tops.
That's it for now. Have a great and safe holiday. Happy Holidays!
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Devil Child
I write this to you hunched over a computer, warning you an impending threat. Evil is here, but it's moving to America. I've seen it in the flesh. It wraps itself in the guise of youth and innocence. Do not be fooled.
This evil has a name. It is Sally J. (not to be confused with her classmate, Sally A., who is the only kindergartner currently taking horse tranquilizers). She is smart, wiley, attention-hungry, and demands you celebrate her birthday...when it's not even her birthday.
For the first month of my time here, I was impressed by young Sally. At 6 years old, she demonstrated a fluency beyond many of my adult Korean friends. She was outgoing and eager to participate. She was the ideal student. This is the kind of student most teachers start teaching for. A student who is receptive to learning, who raises her hand not to spout some silly nonsense about poopoo, but to to say the correct answer. Sally J. could do no wrong. While Sally A. was busy doped out on tranquilizers, Sally J. was learning the ins and outs of advanced English grammar. She was my golden child and I loved her as if she were my own.
As the summer months faded to fall, the city around me changed. The summer typhoons ceased and the sky turned clear and blue. The humid air turned cool and pleasant as the leaves changed to beautiful reds, yellows, and golds. This great physical metamorphosis wasn't confined to the weather. There was a troubling change brewing in the heart of Sally J.--poisoning her young heart, pulsing with life and love and twisting it into a tar black mass pumping evil through her veins.
She became a mini-terrorist, taking out her targets with the over-the-top destructive tactics of someone schooled by Rambo. I would see Sally J. pick a fight with the student next to her, get hit, and then cry for justice from me. Eventually, I would tell Sally J. "Don't even think about it" as soon as soon as the first tear fell. It would stop immediately.
I raised my game and so did Sally J. She stopped raising her hand and began shouting out answers. If other students said something incorrect, she would make fun of them. If I wanted Sally J. as my own before, the only thing I crave now is to give her up for adoption. Every month we have a big birthday party for all the kids who have a birthday that month. Sally J's birthday is in March, but she demanded we celebrate it in December. She's moving to America (watch out!) at the end of the month and cried for an early party. Management caved and decided, what harm could it do? If only they knew.
At the birthday party, as I watched Sally J. and the other December birthday kids blow out their candles, I confided my feelings in "John", another teacher. I felt I made an incredibly strong case. John told me, in a not too nice way, that I needed to relax. He said, "Why do you let her get under your skin like that? She's just a kid, for God's sake." John left me alone with my thoughts. I was overwhelmed with guilt. I had failed as a teacher. I had stooped so incredibly low--hating a child for wanting attention. What had I become? I wasn't a man, but a silly little boy whose dream was to get revenge on a 6-year old.
At that point, I did what every sensible, emotionally stable person would do. My hatred would no longer be directed at Sally J, but at John AND Sally J. It was a kindergarten teacher just like John who let Mussolini get away with beating others and brush it off by saying, "He's just a kid, let it slide." I have a duty to this world and as long as I'm alive, Sally J. will never find safe haven. You can run to America, Sally J, but you can't hide. I'm coming...and I'm bringing Rambo.
This evil has a name. It is Sally J. (not to be confused with her classmate, Sally A., who is the only kindergartner currently taking horse tranquilizers). She is smart, wiley, attention-hungry, and demands you celebrate her birthday...when it's not even her birthday.
For the first month of my time here, I was impressed by young Sally. At 6 years old, she demonstrated a fluency beyond many of my adult Korean friends. She was outgoing and eager to participate. She was the ideal student. This is the kind of student most teachers start teaching for. A student who is receptive to learning, who raises her hand not to spout some silly nonsense about poopoo, but to to say the correct answer. Sally J. could do no wrong. While Sally A. was busy doped out on tranquilizers, Sally J. was learning the ins and outs of advanced English grammar. She was my golden child and I loved her as if she were my own.
As the summer months faded to fall, the city around me changed. The summer typhoons ceased and the sky turned clear and blue. The humid air turned cool and pleasant as the leaves changed to beautiful reds, yellows, and golds. This great physical metamorphosis wasn't confined to the weather. There was a troubling change brewing in the heart of Sally J.--poisoning her young heart, pulsing with life and love and twisting it into a tar black mass pumping evil through her veins.
She became a mini-terrorist, taking out her targets with the over-the-top destructive tactics of someone schooled by Rambo. I would see Sally J. pick a fight with the student next to her, get hit, and then cry for justice from me. Eventually, I would tell Sally J. "Don't even think about it" as soon as soon as the first tear fell. It would stop immediately.
I raised my game and so did Sally J. She stopped raising her hand and began shouting out answers. If other students said something incorrect, she would make fun of them. If I wanted Sally J. as my own before, the only thing I crave now is to give her up for adoption. Every month we have a big birthday party for all the kids who have a birthday that month. Sally J's birthday is in March, but she demanded we celebrate it in December. She's moving to America (watch out!) at the end of the month and cried for an early party. Management caved and decided, what harm could it do? If only they knew.
At the birthday party, as I watched Sally J. and the other December birthday kids blow out their candles, I confided my feelings in "John", another teacher. I felt I made an incredibly strong case. John told me, in a not too nice way, that I needed to relax. He said, "Why do you let her get under your skin like that? She's just a kid, for God's sake." John left me alone with my thoughts. I was overwhelmed with guilt. I had failed as a teacher. I had stooped so incredibly low--hating a child for wanting attention. What had I become? I wasn't a man, but a silly little boy whose dream was to get revenge on a 6-year old.
At that point, I did what every sensible, emotionally stable person would do. My hatred would no longer be directed at Sally J, but at John AND Sally J. It was a kindergarten teacher just like John who let Mussolini get away with beating others and brush it off by saying, "He's just a kid, let it slide." I have a duty to this world and as long as I'm alive, Sally J. will never find safe haven. You can run to America, Sally J, but you can't hide. I'm coming...and I'm bringing Rambo.
The Cast of Characters
When you travel and live overseas, you're bound to meet an assortment of odd people. They include, but are not limited to, the manic depressive, the hyperactive, and the socially repulsive. Some can be fun and interesting and others need long intensive therapy sessions with strong antidepressents they can suck on like Tic Tacs.
I've been back in Seoul for three weeks and the 20 foreign teachers at my school can be seperated into three categories: the assholes (the largest constituency), the downtrodden, and the morbidly obese. At my previous school in Korea, there were 6 foreign teachers and we were inseperable. We not only worked together, we played together. When one person went out on the weekend, we all went out. It was a close-knit group and I was expecting a similar environment for my second tour of duty. Alas, I was destined for disappointment. Just like my love life, it appears my professional life is to be filled with the insecure, the mentally unstable, and the rude. Fantastic. Not only am I fortunate enough to date women who have conference calls with teams of therapists, I am also doomed to work with them.
Let's not forget the men. They are far from innocent. From day one, I have been labeled as an outsider, not cool enough to be one of them. They refer to me jeeringly as 'Ken Doll' behind my back. Ken is tall, attractive, well-built, and is dating the hottest woman on the plantet, Barbie. I'm a short goof ball who spews forth humorous vomit on a regular basis and I have man boobs. I'd also like to point out that I've never spoken to any of them for longer than 15 seconds at a time. One of my few work friends, Linda, says to take it as a compliment. They see me as competition. Competition for what, I'm not sure since the only game they seem to play is Who Is The Biggest Prick.
That gives you a pretty general idea of who I'm working with, now here are a few specifics:
"Kim" and "Susie", or 'The Beef Chiefs' as I affectionately call them, ooze butter from their pores and could create their own wig company using their facial hair. Kim, despite being best friends with the Devil-spawn Susie, is a very nice person who is more than happy to share food recipes with me which make use of the indiginous produce. These recipes require massive amounts of pure butter and should be consumed with heart medication.
Susie was sent here straight from Lucifer's cabinet of senior advisors and top aides. Her satchel-like stomach swings below her private parts like a floppy pendulum. At any moment, I expect a baby kangaroo to pull itself out of this massive pouch, stretch its legs, and hop away. Her demeanor is as pleasant as her appearance. She possesses an Elementary Education degree, but lectures her 4-year old preschool students as if they were in high school. She makes it well-known that she has no respect for teachers without Ed degrees. A new teacher named "Frank" started work on Wednesday. He has an Ed degree and Susie decided to take him under her giant blubberous wing. She introduced Frank to other Ed degree holding teachers like this, 'This is Frank. He has an Education degree.' She said it in a way implying Frank was as divine as Jesus. Frank's a socially awkward midget who takes 5 minutes to say a simple sentence and likes to tell you about his dreams where he's a famous video game character.
Susie is also allergic to everything except water. The faculty room is a boiling inferno because Susie has to have the windows open because the odors of everyone's shampoos and soaps make her physically ill. I silently recommened purchasing a bubble to live in and perhaps they'd even make a documentary about her, 'She was incredibly brave AND she dedicated her life to children. It's so tragic the way she died, killed by Victoria's Secret's new Body Wash for Sensitive Skin. I don't think I'm alone when I ask, was it REALLY for sensitive skin? We'll never know.'
I have seven bosses, because one's not enough. Four are foreigners, three are Koreans. One is a beautiful Korean woman who I thought to be in her mid to late 30's. Her skin is perfect and she dresses like a fashion model from the runways of Milan. Despite a perfect face and a mostly great body, I found it odd that she has the buttocks of a 65-year old woman. I recently found out that she gets extensive plastic surgery on a regular basis and she's actually 55 years old.
One of the foreign bosses is a nice enough guy. The other three are bitter, angry people who, despite having Education degrees and extensive experience, have never learned the term 'team work.' They prescribe to the management style of 'Divide and Conqour.' They speak poorly of other teachers behind their backs, not just to other managers, but to other staff and teachers.
So that's what I deal with on a daily basis. If you've ever wanted an ulcer or perhaps a migraine headache, I can put in a good word and maybe you can get a job here.
There are a few diamonds in the rough. I already mentioned Linda, a nice young woman from Michigan. The other is Isaac. He's a tall, skinny, balding 25-year old with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Despite that, I'm pretty sure he would get his ass kicked by a strong gust of wind. Isaac has a sarcastic, politically incorrect sense of humor that 95% of the world's population would find offensive. I liked him instantly.
I've been back in Seoul for three weeks and the 20 foreign teachers at my school can be seperated into three categories: the assholes (the largest constituency), the downtrodden, and the morbidly obese. At my previous school in Korea, there were 6 foreign teachers and we were inseperable. We not only worked together, we played together. When one person went out on the weekend, we all went out. It was a close-knit group and I was expecting a similar environment for my second tour of duty. Alas, I was destined for disappointment. Just like my love life, it appears my professional life is to be filled with the insecure, the mentally unstable, and the rude. Fantastic. Not only am I fortunate enough to date women who have conference calls with teams of therapists, I am also doomed to work with them.
Let's not forget the men. They are far from innocent. From day one, I have been labeled as an outsider, not cool enough to be one of them. They refer to me jeeringly as 'Ken Doll' behind my back. Ken is tall, attractive, well-built, and is dating the hottest woman on the plantet, Barbie. I'm a short goof ball who spews forth humorous vomit on a regular basis and I have man boobs. I'd also like to point out that I've never spoken to any of them for longer than 15 seconds at a time. One of my few work friends, Linda, says to take it as a compliment. They see me as competition. Competition for what, I'm not sure since the only game they seem to play is Who Is The Biggest Prick.
That gives you a pretty general idea of who I'm working with, now here are a few specifics:
"Kim" and "Susie", or 'The Beef Chiefs' as I affectionately call them, ooze butter from their pores and could create their own wig company using their facial hair. Kim, despite being best friends with the Devil-spawn Susie, is a very nice person who is more than happy to share food recipes with me which make use of the indiginous produce. These recipes require massive amounts of pure butter and should be consumed with heart medication.
Susie was sent here straight from Lucifer's cabinet of senior advisors and top aides. Her satchel-like stomach swings below her private parts like a floppy pendulum. At any moment, I expect a baby kangaroo to pull itself out of this massive pouch, stretch its legs, and hop away. Her demeanor is as pleasant as her appearance. She possesses an Elementary Education degree, but lectures her 4-year old preschool students as if they were in high school. She makes it well-known that she has no respect for teachers without Ed degrees. A new teacher named "Frank" started work on Wednesday. He has an Ed degree and Susie decided to take him under her giant blubberous wing. She introduced Frank to other Ed degree holding teachers like this, 'This is Frank. He has an Education degree.' She said it in a way implying Frank was as divine as Jesus. Frank's a socially awkward midget who takes 5 minutes to say a simple sentence and likes to tell you about his dreams where he's a famous video game character.
Susie is also allergic to everything except water. The faculty room is a boiling inferno because Susie has to have the windows open because the odors of everyone's shampoos and soaps make her physically ill. I silently recommened purchasing a bubble to live in and perhaps they'd even make a documentary about her, 'She was incredibly brave AND she dedicated her life to children. It's so tragic the way she died, killed by Victoria's Secret's new Body Wash for Sensitive Skin. I don't think I'm alone when I ask, was it REALLY for sensitive skin? We'll never know.'
I have seven bosses, because one's not enough. Four are foreigners, three are Koreans. One is a beautiful Korean woman who I thought to be in her mid to late 30's. Her skin is perfect and she dresses like a fashion model from the runways of Milan. Despite a perfect face and a mostly great body, I found it odd that she has the buttocks of a 65-year old woman. I recently found out that she gets extensive plastic surgery on a regular basis and she's actually 55 years old.
One of the foreign bosses is a nice enough guy. The other three are bitter, angry people who, despite having Education degrees and extensive experience, have never learned the term 'team work.' They prescribe to the management style of 'Divide and Conqour.' They speak poorly of other teachers behind their backs, not just to other managers, but to other staff and teachers.
So that's what I deal with on a daily basis. If you've ever wanted an ulcer or perhaps a migraine headache, I can put in a good word and maybe you can get a job here.
There are a few diamonds in the rough. I already mentioned Linda, a nice young woman from Michigan. The other is Isaac. He's a tall, skinny, balding 25-year old with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Despite that, I'm pretty sure he would get his ass kicked by a strong gust of wind. Isaac has a sarcastic, politically incorrect sense of humor that 95% of the world's population would find offensive. I liked him instantly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
