Today I still felt really terrible, but I knew there was no avoiding work. I always hope that my constant sniffles and coughs will invoke some sympathy and outright pity, but to no avail. The best-case scenario is that I’m forced to drink a foully sweet and utterly useless vitamin drink and strong-armed to the hospital.
But even on the verge of a snot-induced death, today turned out okay. I had the usual kindergarten disaster—they never ever ever listen to me or do what they’re supposed to—but at least that ended with the usual dose of hugs, which sustains me until the next week. They actually hugged me as I came in today, too. The hugs were a little out of control today—for a minute there, I think I was being embraced by ten little children simultaneously, and no one was about to let go. Not good for a claustrophobic teacher. And then I literally had to make a running escape to rid myself of their clever claws. Oh, but I like it. Can’t complain about love and appreciation, now can I?
And everything else today was at least as good as usual. I got rice and two kinds of kimchi for lunch (I often only get one), the other lessons are at least over, and I only have eight more to teach this week! Yayer. I also found out that there are 21 Fulbright recipients this year from Pomona, simply shattering our record last year of 15, and four of those will be teaching in South Korea again. I was a little disappointed I didn’t know any of the Korea people, but then again, how could I expect to, when I hardly knew who the Fulbrighters from my own year were? That makes six of us Pomona kids in Korea next year, which is not too shabby at all.
Tonight I got to take a long walk (I skipped it this morning in observation of my sickness) and on the way back, I ran into two of my students, brothers, in their father’s truck. There had been a birthday party for one of my second-grade students there and I think the younger brother was being picked up from that. As two of my more outgoing students, they naturally opened the door and we had a rather lengthy conversation: “Hi Jen! How are you? Do you like…..chicken? Pizza? Cola? Ok, goodbye!” Meanwhile, the adult conversation next to the truck ceased. I’m sure they were all listening in and were highly amused at hearing me communicate with the little tykes. This is why parents love me.
Back to the hugging question. I really wish these kids didn’t grow out of hugs so quickly. I don’t know if it’s the formal school atmosphere or just a stage of growing up, but once my kids hit first grade, they don’t touch me unless it’s to hit my hand black and blue, poke at my stomach, or stroke my seemingly numerous hairs (Koreans, for the most part, are nearly hairless. Last week, one of my second-graders was stroking my arm, apparently fascinated, and whispered, “Wonsungi” (monkey). Then he remembered my presence, looked up, smiled, and shouted “Monkey!” and then ran away.). I don’t get nearly enough hugs a day. I blame my illness on this emotional lacking in my life. I need more near-death suffocation experiences. Far more.