And the days keep rolling by. I wake up, I read and drink tea, I eat breakfast, I walk to school, I drink more tea and play on the internet (though sometimes I do teach), I eat rice and kimchi (because everything else is invariably squiddy), I pray for afternoon classes to be canceled, I squander my day. I’m bored. I hope it’s hormone-induced dissatisfaction…I still have 14-17 weeks to limp through.
Yesterday, unfortunately, there was great enthusiasm for English class. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with these folks. This year, the English level is not bad—guess it’s because we suddenly have so much young blood. So what am I supposed to teach them??? All I’m equipped for is ABCs! It’s a nightmare.
And on top of that, the teachers’ class leads right into volleyball, so I have no way to escape gracefully. I do like volleyball under normal, American, conditions, but I absolutely loathe the Korean teacher form—specifically, the sexism that governs every single movement. It’s assumed women cannot play, so even though they are on the court, they might as well not be there as they’re only permitted the very corners and back row and if the ball even ventures near them a sturdy male with knock them over in their enthusiasm for play. If they’re going to make me play, then let me do it! But as much as I hate the men for their unconscious assumptions about female athleticism, I think I despise the women more for playing right into their designated roles. I HATE HELPLESS FEMALES. I hate that I am considered one when I’m certain I’m the most athletic person at my school. I hate that I receive applause and praise when I even make a move toward the ball—whoa, she’s a girl and she’s not running away! So I stand and fume on the court, watching the men jump circles around me in their intricate plot to ensure I never gain volleyball skill. I prefer boredom.
And then to make yesterday even more spectacular, we went out for dinner and it was lousy. Everyone else feasted on ten trillion pounds of beef soup and I had kimchi and spinach and rice. I guess I was full, but not happily. A strict kimchi diet is not healthy, no matter what these doctor reports concerning the miraculous health benefits of our national food say. Seriously…would it kill them to give me an egg? At least, surprisingly, they thought of me at lunch yesterday—I had a special bibimbap!
Tonight we have to go out to dinner again and I’m not looking forward to it. I prefer being alone, responsible to no one, to solitude in a crowd, when I’m forced to listen to people talk excitedly in a language I still don’t understand for hours at a time while simultaneously trying to avoid encounters with drunken co-workers. Hopefully I’ll at least have good food to divert me this time. We’re going out for duck and I think it might be the same restaurant where they roasted sweet potatoes last time.
The fifth grade teacher just walked into my room to talk to me. I have yet to hear him use one word of English. At first I thought this was a testament to my Korean ability. Now I know it’s because he hates it—says he can’t speak it. Which is curious, because he’s not that old (though I guess he’s older than I thought…evidence from last night suggests he might actually have a baby!). From what I could gather, we didn’t have English today because his students were being naughty, which does not surprise me in the least. They are a challenging group. I hope he cracks the whip.