Thursday, December 14, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
P*ngsan High School Festival (part 2)
Look closely at this photo. This is a Korean high school boy in drag.
I kid you not.
I kid you not.
Monday, December 11, 2006
P*ngsan High School Festival (part 1)
As far as I know, every high school in Korea has an annual festival....and, as far as I can tell, this festival primarily serves as a day of sanctioned cross-dressing and public humiliation (all in good fun of course). P*ngsan's festival was spread over Friday and Saturday and provided me with a lifetime of blackmail material.
The structure was simple:
morning: games and food
lunch: food
afternoon: talent show and food
night: more awesome talent show and rock concert
An assembly kicked off the event. The principal gave a rousing speech in Korea, of which I could only understand "teacher" and "teacher's room." One teacher was snickering a little while the principal went on, and on. I figured he was giving a spiel on how hard the kids have worked all year and how much they deserved the day of fun, or was just warning the kids about poking their eyes out. I asked the teacher for a translation. I guessed wrong. The principal was scolding the students for starting the assembly 9 minutes late. He also criticized the student organizers for not giving schedules to the teachers before that day. When I learned this, I had to stifle a laugh, although none of the other teachers even tried to hide theirs. It was a 5 minute lecture. After he had covered all of the things that could've been better, the principal smiled and wished everyone happiness and fun. The students bolted out of the auditorium with such enthusiasm that I sometimes wonder if the principal purposefully set up the school-fun dichotomy to ensure the day's success.
To join the festivities in the morning, I had to pay 1000 won, which was annoying at first, but then I remembered how little money I've invested into the students all year and felt more like a charitable donation. One dollar to kick a soccer ball. How generous I am! ;) Students and teachers
I, myself, was lucky enough to have participated in the hilarity. As you all know, I'm a competitive person. When I enter a contest, I wanna win. So, when the school president asked me if I would participate in a "drinking contest," I didn't hesitate to acquiesce. "I'll wow them with my chugging skills," I thought. Two details he failed to mention: we were drinking newly opened Pepsi...from bowls. Now, this is a whole different ball game than chugging a glass of water (or beer for that matter). Pepsi is sugary and very fizzy out of the bottle, and the bowl was quite large. News spread that I was competing and a crowd gathered. I was so nervous of losing that I forgot to take a deep breath.
That was my downfall.
I am thoroughly convinced that if I had taken that breath, I would've won with flying colors. Ummm, that didn't happen. Instead, halfway through the bowl I realized that I needed some oxygen. Well, I opened my lungs and all that entered was the CO2 being released from my stomach. Shit. Meanwhile, I was painfully aware of all the eyes staring at my progress. Also, the Pepsi bubbles were now tickling my throat and making their way up my nasal passage. I came to the realization that I was gonna have to cough, give up, or pass out. These choices were totally unacceptable to me. Like I said, I'm slightly competitive. I still wanted to win! So, I told my body to shut up and obey. I opened my throat and downed the last inch of Pepsi in a painful gulp.
It didn't feel good. Looking around, I saw the girl who had barely finished before me. She was a seasoned pro at this. The look of inevitable triumph glistened in her eyes. My other opponent didn't fair as well. He was coughing up Pepsi left and right, gasping for air. And this was the kid who's pretty damn athletic and wants to be a PE teacher. Well, at least I kept a little of my dignity...I thought I made it through OK...until students kept asking me, "Are you OK?" My facial expression must have betrayed my stomach's absolute misery. "Uh yeah. That's way harder than it looks."
The top photo is of one of the relay races. The second photo is my co-teacher, Mr. Lee, pillow fighting another student. That's right. Festival Day is the only day where the teachers are allowed to hit the students (unlike other schools in Korea). I may not have mentioned this, but Mr. Lee is a formidable guy. He kicked the student's ass.
Left: My principal throwing water balloons at the school president
Right: Byeong-yong, the school president, is a soon-to-be-wet target.
*Notice the English written on the cutout. hahaha
The structure was simple:
morning: games and food
lunch: food
afternoon: talent show and food
night: more awesome talent show and rock concert
An assembly kicked off the event. The principal gave a rousing speech in Korea, of which I could only understand "teacher" and "teacher's room." One teacher was snickering a little while the principal went on, and on. I figured he was giving a spiel on how hard the kids have worked all year and how much they deserved the day of fun, or was just warning the kids about poking their eyes out. I asked the teacher for a translation. I guessed wrong. The principal was scolding the students for starting the assembly 9 minutes late. He also criticized the student organizers for not giving schedules to the teachers before that day. When I learned this, I had to stifle a laugh, although none of the other teachers even tried to hide theirs. It was a 5 minute lecture. After he had covered all of the things that could've been better, the principal smiled and wished everyone happiness and fun. The students bolted out of the auditorium with such enthusiasm that I sometimes wonder if the principal purposefully set up the school-fun dichotomy to ensure the day's success.To join the festivities in the morning, I had to pay 1000 won, which was annoying at first, but then I remembered how little money I've invested into the students all year and felt more like a charitable donation. One dollar to kick a soccer ball. How generous I am! ;) Students and teachers
I, myself, was lucky enough to have participated in the hilarity. As you all know, I'm a competitive person. When I enter a contest, I wanna win. So, when the school president asked me if I would participate in a "drinking contest," I didn't hesitate to acquiesce. "I'll wow them with my chugging skills," I thought. Two details he failed to mention: we were drinking newly opened Pepsi...from bowls. Now, this is a whole different ball game than chugging a glass of water (or beer for that matter). Pepsi is sugary and very fizzy out of the bottle, and the bowl was quite large. News spread that I was competing and a crowd gathered. I was so nervous of losing that I forgot to take a deep breath. That was my downfall.
I am thoroughly convinced that if I had taken that breath, I would've won with flying colors. Ummm, that didn't happen. Instead, halfway through the bowl I realized that I needed some oxygen. Well, I opened my lungs and all that entered was the CO2 being released from my stomach. Shit. Meanwhile, I was painfully aware of all the eyes staring at my progress. Also, the Pepsi bubbles were now tickling my throat and making their way up my nasal passage. I came to the realization that I was gonna have to cough, give up, or pass out. These choices were totally unacceptable to me. Like I said, I'm slightly competitive. I still wanted to win! So, I told my body to shut up and obey. I opened my throat and downed the last inch of Pepsi in a painful gulp.
It didn't feel good. Looking around, I saw the girl who had barely finished before me. She was a seasoned pro at this. The look of inevitable triumph glistened in her eyes. My other opponent didn't fair as well. He was coughing up Pepsi left and right, gasping for air. And this was the kid who's pretty damn athletic and wants to be a PE teacher. Well, at least I kept a little of my dignity...I thought I made it through OK...until students kept asking me, "Are you OK?" My facial expression must have betrayed my stomach's absolute misery. "Uh yeah. That's way harder than it looks."
The top photo is of one of the relay races. The second photo is my co-teacher, Mr. Lee, pillow fighting another student. That's right. Festival Day is the only day where the teachers are allowed to hit the students (unlike other schools in Korea). I may not have mentioned this, but Mr. Lee is a formidable guy. He kicked the student's ass.
Left: My principal throwing water balloons at the school presidentRight: Byeong-yong, the school president, is a soon-to-be-wet target.
*Notice the English written on the cutout. hahaha
Sunday, December 10, 2006
English Club Hamburgers
I cost $90 and two trips to the butcher, but my students have finally made (and eaten) "real" hamburgers.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Dear Korea #1
Dear Korea,
First, I'd like to say that you're wonderfully hospitable. Also, I love your citron tea. Are you the only one who makes it? There are so many good things I can say about you and so much more I have to learn from you. That said, I'm curious about something.
Why do you refuse to heat the school hallways? It seems to me that the most logical way to heat a building is to close it up and keep all the heat inside at a moderate level. Granted, some locations are sure to be drafty, but, on the whole, the school's temperature will rise. However, you prefer your hallways to be frigid and your classrooms to be saunas in an effort to shake off the effects of said frigid hallways. This vexes me.
Many a day have I hastily shuffled through the mini-walk-in freezers (I am usually hunched over to minimize surface area so as to conserve as much body warmth as possible) only to be nearly blown over by the intense wall of heat blasted out of classroom doorways in quick Mario Brothers-like bursts. It's ok, Korea, I know the intention is not to topple over your foreign teachers with invisible waves of energy, and I refuse to believe this is simply an extension of your prevalent gaming culture. I am just confused at the situation in general.
When students enter the school in the morning, are the doors left wide open to remind them of where they're headed? Did those long hours of mandatory studying in the library push out more practical information such as directional memory? Are you afraid your students will be injured in the action of either the opening or closing the doors? Was there an "incident" in the past of which I'm not aware? Or, are they open as a metaphorical gesture of welcome, greeting bleary-eyed youngsters with freezing, gaping black holes leading to where the next 8 hours of their lives will slowly tick away?
I understand that you do things differently, Korea, and I would be more than happy to hear your reasoning behind this situation. Fulbright sent me here as a cultural ambassador, and I feel it is my duty to more fully understand your unique hallway experience. Until then, I will make better use of my long underwear and gloves outside of the classroom and will work to increase my coordination so as to not be blown off-course on my way to molding impressionable young minds.
Sincerely,
F*lbright Grantee Noelle
First, I'd like to say that you're wonderfully hospitable. Also, I love your citron tea. Are you the only one who makes it? There are so many good things I can say about you and so much more I have to learn from you. That said, I'm curious about something.
Why do you refuse to heat the school hallways? It seems to me that the most logical way to heat a building is to close it up and keep all the heat inside at a moderate level. Granted, some locations are sure to be drafty, but, on the whole, the school's temperature will rise. However, you prefer your hallways to be frigid and your classrooms to be saunas in an effort to shake off the effects of said frigid hallways. This vexes me.
Many a day have I hastily shuffled through the mini-walk-in freezers (I am usually hunched over to minimize surface area so as to conserve as much body warmth as possible) only to be nearly blown over by the intense wall of heat blasted out of classroom doorways in quick Mario Brothers-like bursts. It's ok, Korea, I know the intention is not to topple over your foreign teachers with invisible waves of energy, and I refuse to believe this is simply an extension of your prevalent gaming culture. I am just confused at the situation in general.
When students enter the school in the morning, are the doors left wide open to remind them of where they're headed? Did those long hours of mandatory studying in the library push out more practical information such as directional memory? Are you afraid your students will be injured in the action of either the opening or closing the doors? Was there an "incident" in the past of which I'm not aware? Or, are they open as a metaphorical gesture of welcome, greeting bleary-eyed youngsters with freezing, gaping black holes leading to where the next 8 hours of their lives will slowly tick away?
I understand that you do things differently, Korea, and I would be more than happy to hear your reasoning behind this situation. Fulbright sent me here as a cultural ambassador, and I feel it is my duty to more fully understand your unique hallway experience. Until then, I will make better use of my long underwear and gloves outside of the classroom and will work to increase my coordination so as to not be blown off-course on my way to molding impressionable young minds.
Sincerely,
F*lbright Grantee Noelle
Friday, December 08, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Things are looking up!
Things are looking up!
In the last two weeks I've received strawberry milk, coffee, a cracker, and a skittle from my students! Woot! I must either look particularly pathetic or my students are liking me more. I hope it's the latter, but if not, I still get free stuff.
In the last two weeks I've received strawberry milk, coffee, a cracker, and a skittle from my students! Woot! I must either look particularly pathetic or my students are liking me more. I hope it's the latter, but if not, I still get free stuff.
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