Random conversations

Teaching children everyday, for those of you who don't know, is always a fresh experience. There are a billion conversations in a day that are hysterical or touching or just plain cute.

Example number one: Paul, everyday that I have lunch with my Apricot class - which is everyday except Fridays - asks me, 'teacher, no avocado today?' which is a complex sentence for a four year old who doesn't really speak English. He seems so sincere when he asks it, too. Every time it sounds like he is truly concerned. I tried to explain to him that avocados are out of season but that really strained his English vocabulary. So, everyday I just say, 'no avocado today!'

Example Number two: tilting far more towards the hilarious side is Sally - the student - who is Christina-Teacher's daughter. Everyday, she bothers William (who, I don't know if I mentioned this, is half African American) about what he is eating and always tries to snag some. One day he was eating a chicken sandwich and she tried to sneak some of it. William turned to her all stern and was like, 'Sally, what have I told you?' She sighed and parrots: 'never touch a black man's chicken'.

I nearly choked on my lunch.

The same girl, Sally, on another day, wanted a cracker from William but he ate it too fast for her to grab it. So she sighs and says something in Korean along the lines 'awww, that was my cracker'. Later that day, she breezes into the faculty room, pats William on the stomach and goes 'whats up, cracker?' and breezes out. The crack up that followed lasted a good ten minutes.

Kris is another case. He can get kind of annoying sometimes. He'll follow me around all day going 'Airplane! Airplane! Airplane! Airplane!' because he wants me to make him a paper airplane. But sometimes he just wants attention, so he'll follow me around shouting anything. Here is a sample conversation:

Kris: Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!

Me: WHAT?

Kris: . . . . . . power rangers.

this last is said as if he were truly rejoicing in the mere fact of their existence.

An afternoon kid named Paul (no relation to kindergarten Paul) goes around shouting 'I'm a prodigy! I'm a prodigy!' because his English is very good. He has gotten so full of himself that now he refuses to respond to 'Paul' and instead demands that I address him as 'English', which he claims is his new English name. This was after a discussion we had in the class about weird English nicknames. I had been talking to a friend who was telling me all of the funky names the mothers of her ridiculously expensive private school named their children. This included one girl named 'Apostrophe' and another named 'Abcd' (pronounced: 'Ahbicity').

Left out of here is the discussion I had with my co-workers about what nicknames little kids have for genitalia in English. That one you just had to be there for.

Duck, Duck, Goose!

If you are a grown up - and I am assuming most of you are - you may have forgotten the joys of childhood games. Games like duck, duck, goose for instance. Duck, duck, goose has hidden depths that, though you appreciate them as a child, your grown-up mind discards this appreciation for more grown up things like golf or driving over the speed limit.

The game appeals to the trickster in us all. Here everyone is, sitting in an orderly circle and someone comes along with their anti-social behavior and creates lawlessness and disorder. Screaming, running, kicking, and pulling spread like an epidemic through the once peaceful circle. And just when you think that things will never be the same it all snaps back into place. Social norms are restored. The only memory of the complete and total anarchy that took hold a moment before is the maniacal gleam in everyone's eye and the person circling around the outside of all that organization ready to start the cycle all over again. It reminds us that civilization is always just waiting for its cue to become chaos.

Duck, duck, goose has recently become one of my very favorite games.

When I was in India, my friend Amanda and I introduced duck duck goose to the girls at All Bengal and you have never seen a group of girls more excited. It didn't last because the older girls soon figured out that it was more fun when you get caught and have to play another round then if you actually succeed in out running the person you 'goosed'.

In Korea, it’s a game commonly played in school yards. Yesterday, I was playing it with the kindergarteners who still have that enthusiasm for winning that surpasses all planes of logic.

We went to a pine forest near our school so that the kindergarteners could get some fresh air. At first I was in charge of Kiwi class but Apricot would not stop following me around so they had to switch it up so I was once more responsible for the three musketeers - Kevin, Kris and Min. Or actually, its Paul now. Min inexplicably changed his name to Paul.

When it was time to get in a circle for duck duck goose, we started out sitting properly but within three minutes I had all three of them on my lap while they played with dirt and threw rocks like four year old boys everywhere.

Min - or Paul or whatever name he's operating under these days - was one of the first to be chosen and I had to gesture wildly to make him understand that he was supposed to chase the person who 'goosed' him. When he didn't catch him, he came back to me looking heartbroken. I had to reassure him that catching the person who 'goosed' you was not really the point of the game. It was all about the chase. He didn't understand me, of course, so I moved on.

He didn't know how to play so I just told him to go up to William Teacher and yell 'goose!' then start running around the circle. He understood me but kept on looking back at me, like he wasn't sure he was supposed to be yelling anything at teachers and this was some kind of test.

He walked over to William and stood behind him for a good minute, staring intently like a psycho, the wheels in his little brain turning while William tried to pretend he wasn't there. Finally, he managed to shout 'goose!' and took off around the circle.

After falling several times (I chose William because I knew he would slow down and let Min win) he had made it halfway around the circle and back to where I was. He promptly dove into my lap like I was his own personal home base. I tried to tell him to keep running but he was so pleased with himself that he wasn't listening. Eventually, we just let it go.

But for the rest of the game whenever Kris, Kevin or Min were picked, they would only run right back to me instead of around the circle like they were supposed to. It was pretty cute.

Don't Stand So Close to Me

Living in a foreign country holds unexpected surprises around every corner. Things that you think are pretty standard turn out to be outlandish ideas. Like personal space.

Koreans don't do personal space.

In anthropological terms, we call this proxemics (technically defined as the study of set measurable distances between people as they interact). In different cultures people keep different spaces between them. There are different spaces, for example, between people of authority and their underlings, between teachers and students, between members of the opposite sex and members of the same sex.

My co-teachers are always, to use an Americanism, all up in each other's grills. They pet each other when bored; when they stand, they stand about two inches apart and when they offer food to you they expect you to just take a big bite of whatever it is from their hands or, in some cases, let them feed you.

It has taken me a while to adjust and not be startled when I end up in one of Rachel's vice-like embraces for no apparent reason. Even when Mrs. Kim took me to the immigration office yesterday, she sat way closer to me than I thought was humanly possible.

It has made me realize how little Americans touch each other on a daily basis. Back home, my close friends and I are pretty physical with each other (to the point where, in high school, a substitute teacher asked me and my friend Chauna if we were lesbians) but I would never go up to a co-worker I just met four months ago and demand that they eat from my hand. Its kind of sad, in a way, because humans are social creatures and flourish when they are reminded of their connections with others.

It’s not just in my office, either (I actually suspected this for a while). I’ve seen Koreans on the street holding hands with their friends and sitting on top of one another. This, however, only happens with members of the same sex. Like in India, members of the same sex are very physical with each other.

Though, thanks to India, my instinctual reaction to getting slapped on the butt is to turn around and swing for someone's nose, I appreciate that I'm being included.

This is interesting not only for the sake of my witty commentary but also because Japan, a country that, despite their hostility, is very similar to Korea (except that they can't play soccer. GO KOREA!), and has a very different perspective. In Japan, proxemics are serious business. I have been told that when offered a piece of food, you are not expected to pick it up with your hand or even let them place it in your hand. You are to put a paper towel on a nearby table and let the other person place it there.

I was trying to remind myself about cultural differences in Kindergarten today when one of my Apricot class, Min, kept on grabbing for my boobs. Now, this is a favorite past time of little children in Korea - grabbing for my boobs - because I'm pretty sure they think I’m smuggling oranges or something. Little kids have skewed proxemics to begin with, but add to it the Korean touchy-feely thing (which they have not figured out is only for members of the same sex) and you have a recipe for uncomfortableness.

But then again, I tend to agree with Ralph Emerson: "Children are all foreigners".

Update: A friend suggested a solution to people who get too close to you.

Picture courtesy of Hyberole and a Half

Pictures!

Today we had a cooking day which is basically an excuse for the kids to get covered in sugar. Its in honor of Children's Day, which is Wednesday and which we get off! I had a great time even if by the end of it I felt like I could use a shower. There were some great pictures taken that I thought I'd share with you so you can put some faces to the names I've been spouting.

Here is a picture of me and Min who is being adorable as usual.

This is Kevin. though his face is a little blurry I thought this picture captured the pure Kevin-ness of him - Dumbo ears and all - better than the other one.

And of course, to complete the set, here is the ringleader, Kris, the last musketeer.

Group Shot

Here is just a picture to demonstrate the pure cuteness of Korean children. Here is Melon class, whose homeroom teacher is William (also pictured).

Notice how every kid has a cute little apron and, on occasion, matching head gear. I am totally getting myself an apron for next cooking day. We were making cakes, which really just involved everyone smearing their neighbors with icing and then piling fruit onto ready made little cakes.

Phone Teaching

At our school we have to do this thing called phone teaching. Basically, we call our older kids on the phone and talk to them for a minimum for five minutes on a subject of our choosing. Since they aren't about to wax eloquent about Korea's multilateral relations with the world or the test band treaty, I stick to things more concrete. Such as the weather. But even this can prove a challenge for some of my kids. Allow me to give you an example of one of the more painful conversations I had tonight.

Student: Hello, Teacher!

Me: Hello, Daniel, how are you today?

Silence.

Me: Are you happy? Are you sad?

Student: Yes.

Me: which one?
Silence.

Me: Happy?

Student: Yes!

Me: Well, thats great. What are you happy about?
Silence.

Me: Why are you happy?

Silence.

Me (moving on): What have you done today?

Student: teacher?

Me: Did you go to piano lessons?

Student: No.

Me: Did you go to baseball practice?

Student: No.

Me: Did you go home?

Student: No.

Me: Did you go to the moon?

Silence.

Me (moving on): Its spring now in Korea, isn't it? What's your favorite season?

Silence.

Me: Do you like fall? Winter? Spring? Summer?

Student: Yes.

and so on. Don't get me wrong, some of the kids are fun to talk to. I had quite a few this time around that just went off chatting about something, half of which I couldn't make out. I have wised up since my first encounter with this particular form of excruciatingly painful teaching and I now conduct my conversations while playing old school Donkey Kong Country on my DS. This makes the whole experience a lot more enjoyable as I can defeat an entire level during the awkward pauses.

One boy, Antonio, is brothers with one of my kindergarten students, Min. After I asked him all the questions I had prepared I started asking them about his brother. Min is one of my favorite students because he is just the sweetest little guy ever. So, I told his brother to tell Min I would see him tomorrow. Five minutes after I hang up the phone, it starts ringing. I pick it up and its little Min shouting into the receiver: EMILY TEACHER! EMILY TEACHER! I can hear his brother in the background trying to explain that Min wanted to talk to me. I got the impression that he couldn't get near the receiver. That's how I ended up talking to a four year old Korean boy for about five minutes on the phone. Which really just consisted of my repeating phrases I knew he knew like "Oh my gosh-e!" and "Humpty Dumpty!" and the "Clean Up Song" which I had taught them.

I was just wondering how I was going to get off the phone without hanging up on the kid when I remembered another phrase they had recently learned:

"Bye bye!"

"Okay, bye bye, teacher!"

Humpty Dumpty

Slowly, I think its occurring to my kindergarten students that I don't, in fact, speak Korean. I don't know what they were thinking up until this point - maybe that I was just pretending not to speak it so they would learn English? But it finally hit one of the kids today that no matter how many times he repeats the same words over and over in Korean, I will not understand. Its not that I'm purposefully being dumb. Its not like he can call a time out on me not speaking Korean just so he can clarify something. There is no turning the non-Korean speaking off. Its permanent.

The younger kids got it first. Kris, Min and Kevin, the four year olds in Apricot,(I have taken to calling them the three musketeers) got it about a week ago and so have taken to speaking as much English as possible. And I was really astonished at how much they learned. Just soaking it up like sponges.

Now, whenever I drop something they shout "Oh my Goshey!" and I managed to teach them the clean up song. Which, to be fair, is very simple, but I feel kind of proud that they can almost sing all the words in English.

These three also LOVE Humpty Dumpty. I'm not really sure why, but I think it has something to do with there being knights and horses in it. But everyday I have to read them a story from this story book, they will not listen to ANY story unless we listen to Humpty Dumpty first.

At which point they will divide the roles in the story. Min will be all the King's Men (this came about when he demonstrated to me that he knew the difference between his own name, Min, and 'Men' but wanted to disregard it anyway). And Kris is all the King's Horses because thats what he decided. The conversation - which is in 4 year old boy Korea so its not like I could follow it anyway - always stalls around what Kevin will be. This is because he is somewhat of a whiner and wets his pants in class every other day. He gets angry easily and is all around unpleasant most of the time.

Thus, the conversation deteriorates into what can be interpreted as name calling; at which point Kevin rolls his eyes up in the back of his head - which honestly is a little creepy - and starts screaming; charging at the other two, meaning to hit them.

What follows is a general breakdown of social order and the three of them end up either running down the halls screaming or, if I manage to catch them and impose TeacherLaw, crying in a corner.

Despite this, or maybe because of it, (who knows how the minds of little boys work?) they are always thrilled to see the story book when I bring it out and start shouting "Humpty Dumpty! Humpty Dumpty!"

Today, however, I saw that they no longer have the same story book. I wonder how they're going to react when they figure it out.

Min and theTattle Tales

So I'm kind of getting the hang of living in Seoul. Or at least teaching in it.

The kindergardeners are easy, even if they don't understand you. For the most part they give it their best shot. The worst thing that could possibly happen to them is getting a star taken away. There is a little chart on all the boards and if you erase a star next to their name dramatically enough they will start crying. One of my co-teachers, Jonathan, went all Space Odyssey 2001 on some poor kid's star yesterday and I'm pretty sure he's still bawling.

The littlest kids are getting better and learning what they are supposed to do but one of them (Kris) still lives in his own little world where everything is built to suit him. Soon, with any luck, this illusion will disappear completely. Another kid in that class (Min) is my absolute favorite student so far. He is adorable (natch), light years ahead of the others in the English-understanding department and is sweet as taro pie.

To demonstrate this theory, I will give you a example. we were in PE class, which had deteriorated into Running-and-Screaming Time and Kris was kicking kids left and right. Naturally, he got kicked himself and started crying like it was his job. I had zero sympathy for the little munchkin and gave him a look that told him so and walked away. My feeling is you reap what you sow. Also, by this time I was well and truly sick of Kris and his shenanigans. I walk away to another part of the play room and when I look back, there is Min - who, himself, had been kicked by the little drama queen - crouched down next to Kris with this concerned look on his face. It was so cute I had to go back and comfort the little miscreant if only for Min's sake.

The older the kids get, the less afraid they are of loosing stars, although this is a surprisingly effective method for a lot of kids. When the kids get to be about 10 or 11, they realize there is more to life than stars and will sacrifice a star or two for a good joke or a break in studies. This is when you have to get creative. A colleague suggested I make them stand in the lobby of the school pointing at the clock for five minutes which is, let me tell you, the ultimate in cruel and unusual punishment. Not only is it tiring but everyone who passes by asks them why they are there and they have to tell them. I've never done this myself but I did threaten a kid with it today and even hearing it described was enough for her to be good the entire class.

In Korea, if a kid does something he's not supposed to (I use 'he' here because it is, with only one exception, ALWAYS the boys) the other kids will tell on him immediately. In America, theres always this idea that we shouldn't be 'tattle tales' - not in Korea. It seems like every five seconds one of the kids is going 'Teacher!' and telling me about how another kid did something that offends them on a personal level which could be nothing more than sticking out their tongue.

On a unrelated note, 'Min and the Tattle Tales' is a great name for a band.