I am so tired. I have been on the go for weeks and weeks now. The last month of activity has taken its toll on me. But life will not slow down. Well, it could if I wanted it to, but I refuse to give in to fatigue. I’m too young for that, and there’s too much to do to act like an old lady. I realized tonight that I haven’t really been home since last Wednesday, and anyway, I only spend significant time here two days a week. The rest of the time I’m too busy traveling and hiking and walking and generally avoiding sedentary activity. Except on those really really lengthy and taxing (on my patience) bus rides…I hope my host family is not resentful. I don’t think they would be, though…it’s become clear that they are not pushing for any close relationship with me. We’re all too busy, and also very shy.
Anyway…I am home late today because of a surprise conference and dinner party. I arrived at school today—flustered, because I haven’t been there in what feels like so long and I had to teach right away that morning—to find my co-teacher writing a new schedule for the day on my desk. All the teachers were supposed to attend some sort of workshop in Nonsan that afternoon, so they had to move the schedule up. This left me without a co-teacher and with only ten minutes (instead of twenty) to prepare for my first class, the first graders. I found today that although I may not agree with how authoritarian he is with his students, Mr. Lee is effective. As in, they usually don’t stand on chairs and scream when he’s in the room. They were okay, though, considering how many of them they are and the freedom they must have felt without him. I’ve definitely had many a worse class. I also forgot to prepare a lesson for my sixth-graders—it must have felt too far away last week, and I guess I thought I could wing it anyway—and I had to make a last-minute Jeopardy game. It was so crude, but worked pretty well. Good thing I only had half of the regular class, though. So it was a hectic morning, but I enjoyed my students, as I always do on Mondays and Tuesdays. These first days of the week are always so glorious and I often already feel sad that we’ll have to say goodbye to each other soon. Until I get to Wednesdays, that is…
But I still had no clue what was happening this afternoon, and I was also a little resentful that my free afternoon was being snatched from me. Better than a teachers’ workshop, which I still haven’t taught and never want to, but still…I was in need of some catch-up time. I still haven’t finished my Taiwan journal, and it’s been three weeks! So to Nonsan we went (forty minutes away). I was surprised to see some of my students there, dressed for samulnori. There was one mystery solved—why many of my students had missed class and had been parading around in their samulnori clothes. But why….I was curious, but I employed my usual tactic of trying to figure things out for myself. It was unsuccessful, because I lacked the Korean, but eventually my co-teacher told me it was a conference on after-school programs. I don’t know what the point was, really—how is the conference going to change our programs, or help us teach better, or offer more to our students, when it consisted of only a performance from each school and a lengthy PowerPoint?—but this is the way things are done in Korea. Conferences aren’t revolutionary—they’re just reports. Nothing productive comes out of them. And I evidently wasn’t the only one bored, either. I suppose the bigger mystery is why we have conferences at ALL, but it seems that no one questions them. And for teachers who are required to spend the day at school, I suppose it’s more fun to sit and eat ddok (of which there was plenty!) and mingle with other teachers than to be stuck in Hongsan.
The first part of the afternoon consisted of performances from each of the schools. Luckily, my school chose samulnori, which is classy and my personal favorite. I really like to watch them play, too…one of my sixth-graders, Jae Cheol, is sooo funny when he plays. He’s a head-banger…to traditional music. Too cute. The other schools chose less interesting, even disturbing acts. The first one, from the Gyeryong school, was okay—a choir performance. Kyoung Hee Sam’s daughter was one of the singers, too. They were a cute group of girls, but nothing too special. The other two schools…I am not sure what they were thinking when they chose infant prostitutes and pimps to represent their schools. This is a trend I’ve noticed in other performances, too…they seem to think it’s cute to see little children skimpily clad and shaking for all they’re worth. I find it repulsive to see such overt sexuality to wee ones and think it’s especially odd in a conservative culture, where adults are always completely covered up. I guess Korean culture is still beyond my understanding. The first act featured girls in bikini-like halter tops and cheerleader skirts, and boys in tight-fitting suits. Both costumes were made of shimmery velour-looking material. I am not kidding when I say that they looked like cheap prostitutes. But everyone around me was cheering and crying “Cute!” when they saw them. I felt bad for the chubby girl and boy, who had no choice but to put it all on display. And the second act was even worse. The skirts weren’t too bad this time—at least they were ankle-length—but now they had all sorts of jangly chains attached to the brassiere tops and the hips of their skirts, which they shook with all their might in very provocative ways for the entirety of the ten minute performance. I was horrified. Am I a prude, or is this really strange? Who in their right mind would teach elementary students belly-dancing, and then choose that one thing to represent their school at what appeared to be a major and important conference?
The second part of the afternoon was just boring. Two hours of speeches, all in Korean, and all very boring, even if I could understand, because they were about schools and percent enrollment and such. I tried to pay attention for a while—figured I could work on my listening skills—but it was numbing. And frustrating to be locked in there. I seriously contemplated escape, but figured I would be noticed. I did solve another mystery, though…why my favorite teacher, Kim In Gyu, has been hard at work on his computer for the last month, instead of teaching gym. And why he made a book last week with my face on it. He was in charge of this presentation! I did pay attention to his portion—figured I owed it to him, after how nice he is every day. Too bad he chose the most unflattering photos of me EVER. Also, they were all of regular class, not the club class, which I think absolutely no one has visited.
Then it was dinnertime. Sort of. It was not even five, but we always eat really early when we’re together as a school, because everyone lives so far away from each other. We went to my favorite Nonsan restaurant, the one I went to last spring with In Gyu and my co-teacher and Kyoung Hee Sam and the fifth grade teacher. It has great dolsot bap. Tonight it was so good…if only I hadn’t been full of ddok! (I still have eight pieces the female teachers forcibly stuffed in my pockets. I think they’re on a mission to fatten me up again.) I ate way too much anyway—In Gyu kept ordering refills of my favorite side dishes, again and again and again, and I kept eating them, even though each time I was full. Who can say no to mushrooms and tofu and mountain vegetables? Not me! And now here I am, home at 8 and tired beyond belief. How am I going to get through this week? How am I going to find the time to pack for North Korea? Aigo, himduro!