[note: this was originally an email from the time before blogs. Well, before Roblog anyway. I originally sent it out in December of 2002, and I present it to you with no changes or editing, other than a snappier title than "December 2002". Enjoy. ]
Dear Friends and family: This is not quite a Christmas Card email, but it might be the best you get from me! Enjoy!
One thing that I love about this job is the people I come in contact with the most: my students. I am leaving this job for a new one, and the students are the aspect of Kosin University that I will miss the most. I would like to introduce you to one of them. Not my best student. Not one I've grown very close to, either. I do, however, consider her to be one of my more visible successes.
Hei-Jin (pronounced hay-`jean) showed up in the third week of a 16 week semester. She was a very quiet, mousy girl. Glasses, hair with a tight wave, big shoes that went out of style a couple of years ago. She wouldn't look directly at me, and hardly spoke. She came in late, so she had to sit in the first seat made available in our circle of twelve students and me. As it turned out, that was next to me, because I was the first to move a bit and pull a desk in. I gave her a syllabus, and told her to talk to the other students about what was necessary to do in my class, including the journal.
She didn't talk to anyone. She didn't get it. She didn't do the work, and we were approaching midterms. One day I dragged her into my office and insisted that she do a journal. As usual, she didn't look at me, muttered something, and ran away like a nervous horse escaping a corral. I thought that would be the end of that, but the next week she came to me in my office and gave me her journal! She put it on my table and left without saying anything, but I thought it was pretty impressive that she had done that much.
When I looked at it, I found something amazing. Instead of just writing about her day-to-day activities like most of my students, she wrote about her feelings! Her spelling was pretty bad, and her grammar was out to lunch, but her feelings came through, sometimes very clearly.
I talked with one of my coworkers who has been here a long time, and he remembered HeiJin. He said that she dropped out a couple of years ago. She had been a shy student, but not a complete basket case. My department head told me that she had had some mental problems. And from reading her journal and homework assignments, I gather that she doesn't have the best family life in this country of dysfunctional families.
She slowly responded to me, more and more. At the beginning, she was reluctant to sit next to me in class, but by the end it was her expected seat, and she always moved towards it, even if she arrived before I did. She also became capable of talking to me, and even glancing at my face as I talked to her. I found that she has a pretty smile, though it is usually fleeting. Her speaking and listening skills (in English, of course) are still very low. But she wrote a Christmas card for me, one of only two cards I've received from my students.
She wrote the following in her daily English journal. The only instructions for the journal are to write down what you think and feel. This is the only thing I've seen in my three semesters of teaching composition that looked like a poem. It was inscribed in a large smiley face with a very small, but friendly smile. I believe that she is a tortured soul. Tortured by her family, her surroundings, and herself. I am honored that she opened up to me.
Bench-------------
There is bench. Anybody isn't in there. But the bench is alone.
It can loneliness. I can go sometimes.
Some day. Sky is higher and higher. Day is warm
Sun is blinding. Anybody was no I sat there
Now. it is not lonely
Bench many tell. Merely is quietly.
From what time, like it. I want to be
alone. It is state empty. It's not busy.
It's garden of mind. If need easy, look
for there. comfortable. Look for there, comfor-
table. How are you (getting on)?
-Moon Hei Jin
I never see her talking to other students. As far as I know she comes to school, studies, and goes home. When asked to write about a funny or scary experience, she wrote a scary experience. It involved explaining to her mother why she had a textbook that she couldn't afford. I don't believe she misunderstood scary, I do believe that her life at home is not at all pleasant.
If you believe in prayer, I ask you to pray for her. She will, in all likelihood, fail every class this semester except mine. For ethical reasons, I cannot consider giving her a better grade than a "D". I don't believe she will be able to study at Kosin University next semester. I don't know what she will do. I'm sure she doesn't know, either.
Pray that God will bless her, watch over her, and protect her.
I miss all of you, especially around Christmas. Be thankful for what you have.
Peace,
Rob
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On three consecutive days I was asked for the same story by three friends, each from further back than the last. The first made me happy, th...
Tuesday, December 24, 2002
Friday, April 19, 2002
The Shoe Being on Both Feet
[Once again, another archive edition Roblog from before Blogging. This one from April of 2002, though it covers events from almost a year previously. Please don't mind the crazy formating.]
Dear Loved Ones:
Well, at 8:15 this morning I finished my first assignment as a grad student. I know, some of you didn't even know that I had been accepted to grad school, but fear not, all questions will be answered, though hopefully not in such a rambling, dark, foreboding way, with sentences that strained to reach their goals, like nursing puppies separated from their mother.
Sorry. Did I mention that I didn't get any sleep last night? I have had a 3 hour nap, but I don't think I'm caught up yet.
Horyon is not too happy with me. I said that I would not let this happen again, and she seemed somewhat relieved. She said she had never worked all night like this when she was in university. She would have just given up. I told her that I had done it more times than I could count. That was a mistake. She said, "So this is a habit, and you will probably do it again, right?" What could I say? "No, honey! This time I've learned my lesson! I'm too old for this crap! I swear, never again!"
I have another paper due in 2 months. We'll see.
Along the way, I have had to deal with a few other things. Allow me to touch on the highlights:
Pepsi-holic
For Lent I gave up Pepsi, and all similar carbonated, sweet beverages. For those of you who have known me for a long time, Pepsi is one of my biggest vices. Next to knocking over liquor stores and stealing candy from babies, of course. Anyway, this year I decided to give it up, making up my mind to pray every time I wanted a drink of Pepsi.
I certainly didn't manage to pray every time I felt the craving, but I did pray more often in the last 40 days, that's for sure. Feel free to bring it up with my coworkers. They now refer to me as a recovering Pepsi-holic. It doesn't matter to me, because I am now firmly back on the wagon, wearing my seat-belt now, thank you very much. I now understand that Pepsi is not essential to my well-being, but I still like it lots. And it's cheaper than buying juice, too.
I think I'll do it again next year. You know why? It's like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer: It sucks while you're doing it, but feels soooo good when you stop.
And let me tell you, that first drink was good. I swear I could taste each individual chemical.
Easter Sunday
Our church has no full-time minister, so three of us take turns preaching. This year, I had a good idea for Easter, based on some interactive sermons my parents were participating in back home: A talk-show format. I would be the host, and I would interview three special guests, maybe Peter, Mary Magdelene and Pilate. Or Barabas. Or someone else involved in the story. I asked three of my coworkers if they would like to do this, and they agreed. I suggested that they choose their own characters, and they came up with Mary, Cleopas (on the road to Amaeus), and Joseph of Arimathea. They researched their characters, gave me their info a couple of days before Sunday, and I asked questions in line with their stories. My part was definitely the easiest, but it was a teeny bit stressful, especially with a 4,000 (plus or minus 500) word paper due the next day.
Incidentally, 3,700 words looks like about 8 pages on my WordPerfect. Not including the complete transcript of a 2 hour class, which looks more like 11 pages, with really tight margins.
Even though today is Monday, it still feels like Easter to me. I've really only had a nap. It's a darn good thing I have no classes on Mondays. And this Friday is a holiday! All right!
Computer Mayhem
As I mentioned in the last email, we bought a new computer. After dallying with Linux (a do-it-yourself operating system, completely free, but with no guarantees), I broke down and bought Windows XP. I'm afraid that my particular flavor of geekiness is not computer-oriented enough to use Linux. But there were definitely some good things about it, compared to Windows. For starters, it's small and efficient. It flies on the PC.
Windows XP, however, has been, well, how can I put this delicately? It's... I've... I give up. There's no delicate way to say that it pisses me off. Saturday and last night, the two nights before my paper was due, I had to reinstall Windows 3 times.
Still Doing the Job Thang
Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm teaching two writing classes this semester, and I decided to make my students write an almost-daily journal: 6 days per week. I collect them once a week and check ‘em over. It works wonders on them. They become more comfortable writing, they learn some basic formatting, they learn to not be afraid of writing. It's great.
But I have fifty students divided between those two classes. It now takes me about five minutes to read and write a response to one journal. Total time, 250 minutes. More than four hours. And you can bet that I am incapable of sitting and reading these things for a full hour at a time. They are tough to read sometimes.
It's worth noting that I have basically inflicted all of these things on myself. Maybe it's time I stopped being so darn nice to other people.
All right, all of you who were reading this and thinking "Wow, I should ask Rob to do something for me, cause he'll do anything!" can just forget it! I'm not doin' nothin' for nobody!
Okay, I've had a day to think about that, and I'm sorry. You are welcome to ask me to do something, I will smile, nod, say "yes," then put it off until you want to strangle me.
Yeah, I feel much better.
Movin' and Groovin'
This coming Saturday (the 20th), we will be moving to a new apartment. My university provides an apartment for us, and though they never come right out and say it, money drives the whole thing. (You see, it's a Christian university, so they can't talk about money, except to tell us that we shouldn't complain about it so much.) (No bitterness there, eh?) So we are preparing to move.
Okay, you dragged the truth out of me, Horyon is preparing to move. I have packed a box and moved a few things around, at her prodding. Those of you who have seen me move will be nodding your heads right now and feeling sorry for my wife. Pray for her. Pray for her sanity. Even if you believe that God ignores all prayers, even if you believe that God doesn't exist, pray for her. This will be another test of our love.
Summertime Greens
I chose "Greens" because of Kermit the Frog's song about being green. He says it's cool and friendly-like, big like an ocean, important like a mountain, or tall like a tree. Horyon told me just yesterday that she missed Kansas. It is a good place to call home.
My Mom considers herself to be quite fortunate, in some respects. Despite having been blessed with two sons, she was still given the opportunity to plan two weddings. (Okay, mine was a vow renewal service, but it sure looked a lot like a wedding.) Now, when I hear the words "wedding" and "plan" in the same sentence, I start to get nervous, but that is Mom's cup of tea. She loves organizing big events, she loves seeing it all come together, and I think on some masochistic level she even likes the stress involved.
It was very nice. Our former minister, Rev. Bill Nowlan, came out of semi-retirement to co-officiate with Rev. Jim Bell. My Uncle Tom sang a song that his wife, Debbie, chose–John Lennon's "Grow Old With Me." Absolutely beautiful. (Well, the singing was beautiful, Tom looked like Tom.) Many friends attended, including some from quite far away (thanks Jerry and Michele!).
We had wedding cake. Oh my oh my it was good. Let me tell you something: Koreans like cake, and you can buy cakes everywhere. They look beautiful, with fruit on top, or chocolate. But when you taste it, something is wrong: Korean cake isn't sweet. They think American style cakes are too sweet, so they make theirs really bland, especially the icing. Some people adjust to this, and I used to think it was okay, but after having old-fashioned American wedding cake, I can no longer eat Korean cake.
Our wedding cake was yummy.
And we had an outdoor cookout after the vow renewal ceremony. We had hamburgers and hotdogs and potato salad and all of my relatives brought food. The heat finally broke and it was only in the 80's that day, so everyone felt cool and comfortable. We tossed a frisbee around, ate food, and socialized. A truly good time.
Saying goodbye the following Monday was pretty rough. Poor Horyon felt like she was just getting to know my parents, and I almost felt the same. I know they're my parents, but when you go so long without being with someone, it takes some time to get back into the comfort zone.
Who am I kidding? Our comfort zone has so far proven to be wide enough to encompass Korea and Kansas at the same time. It may one day prove big enough to encompass other planets. For the record, I would like to tell all of you that my parents are the best people you could hope to meet, and I would have no other parents. We are friends, and Horyon quickly adjusted to that pattern. It was hard for both of us to leave because we like them, as well as loving them.
Well, Horyon was worried that I would leave you with the impression that we did very little in Kansas this summer. While it is true that it was our vacation, and we did spend some time doing nothing, we did do a lot of thing. I'm just not going to tell you about all of them right now.
Except for Uncle Don's barbecue. Let me tell you, my Uncle Don can cook. We managed to have a disproportionate number of meals at Becky and Don's house considering that they are a 45 minute drive from home. We also ate a disproportionate amount of food, too. Mmm, barbecue. Nothing in Korea comes close.
And there you have a slice of the recent present as well as last summer. Our home computer will probably be down from Thursday thru Saturday, but my work computer will still be working. I'm always happy to hear from anyone who receives my messages. Just let me know you're alive and kicking.
Peace,
Rob
p.s. The shoe being on the other foot just means that I used to be a university student, and then a professor, and now I'm both. And I couldn't think of a good idiom for that.
Dear Loved Ones:
Well, at 8:15 this morning I finished my first assignment as a grad student. I know, some of you didn't even know that I had been accepted to grad school, but fear not, all questions will be answered, though hopefully not in such a rambling, dark, foreboding way, with sentences that strained to reach their goals, like nursing puppies separated from their mother.
Sorry. Did I mention that I didn't get any sleep last night? I have had a 3 hour nap, but I don't think I'm caught up yet.
Horyon is not too happy with me. I said that I would not let this happen again, and she seemed somewhat relieved. She said she had never worked all night like this when she was in university. She would have just given up. I told her that I had done it more times than I could count. That was a mistake. She said, "So this is a habit, and you will probably do it again, right?" What could I say? "No, honey! This time I've learned my lesson! I'm too old for this crap! I swear, never again!"
I have another paper due in 2 months. We'll see.
Along the way, I have had to deal with a few other things. Allow me to touch on the highlights:
Pepsi-holic
For Lent I gave up Pepsi, and all similar carbonated, sweet beverages. For those of you who have known me for a long time, Pepsi is one of my biggest vices. Next to knocking over liquor stores and stealing candy from babies, of course. Anyway, this year I decided to give it up, making up my mind to pray every time I wanted a drink of Pepsi.
I certainly didn't manage to pray every time I felt the craving, but I did pray more often in the last 40 days, that's for sure. Feel free to bring it up with my coworkers. They now refer to me as a recovering Pepsi-holic. It doesn't matter to me, because I am now firmly back on the wagon, wearing my seat-belt now, thank you very much. I now understand that Pepsi is not essential to my well-being, but I still like it lots. And it's cheaper than buying juice, too.
I think I'll do it again next year. You know why? It's like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer: It sucks while you're doing it, but feels soooo good when you stop.
And let me tell you, that first drink was good. I swear I could taste each individual chemical.
Easter Sunday
Our church has no full-time minister, so three of us take turns preaching. This year, I had a good idea for Easter, based on some interactive sermons my parents were participating in back home: A talk-show format. I would be the host, and I would interview three special guests, maybe Peter, Mary Magdelene and Pilate. Or Barabas. Or someone else involved in the story. I asked three of my coworkers if they would like to do this, and they agreed. I suggested that they choose their own characters, and they came up with Mary, Cleopas (on the road to Amaeus), and Joseph of Arimathea. They researched their characters, gave me their info a couple of days before Sunday, and I asked questions in line with their stories. My part was definitely the easiest, but it was a teeny bit stressful, especially with a 4,000 (plus or minus 500) word paper due the next day.
Incidentally, 3,700 words looks like about 8 pages on my WordPerfect. Not including the complete transcript of a 2 hour class, which looks more like 11 pages, with really tight margins.
Even though today is Monday, it still feels like Easter to me. I've really only had a nap. It's a darn good thing I have no classes on Mondays. And this Friday is a holiday! All right!
Computer Mayhem
As I mentioned in the last email, we bought a new computer. After dallying with Linux (a do-it-yourself operating system, completely free, but with no guarantees), I broke down and bought Windows XP. I'm afraid that my particular flavor of geekiness is not computer-oriented enough to use Linux. But there were definitely some good things about it, compared to Windows. For starters, it's small and efficient. It flies on the PC.
Windows XP, however, has been, well, how can I put this delicately? It's... I've... I give up. There's no delicate way to say that it pisses me off. Saturday and last night, the two nights before my paper was due, I had to reinstall Windows 3 times.
Still Doing the Job Thang
Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm teaching two writing classes this semester, and I decided to make my students write an almost-daily journal: 6 days per week. I collect them once a week and check ‘em over. It works wonders on them. They become more comfortable writing, they learn some basic formatting, they learn to not be afraid of writing. It's great.
But I have fifty students divided between those two classes. It now takes me about five minutes to read and write a response to one journal. Total time, 250 minutes. More than four hours. And you can bet that I am incapable of sitting and reading these things for a full hour at a time. They are tough to read sometimes.
It's worth noting that I have basically inflicted all of these things on myself. Maybe it's time I stopped being so darn nice to other people.
All right, all of you who were reading this and thinking "Wow, I should ask Rob to do something for me, cause he'll do anything!" can just forget it! I'm not doin' nothin' for nobody!
Okay, I've had a day to think about that, and I'm sorry. You are welcome to ask me to do something, I will smile, nod, say "yes," then put it off until you want to strangle me.
Yeah, I feel much better.
Movin' and Groovin'
This coming Saturday (the 20th), we will be moving to a new apartment. My university provides an apartment for us, and though they never come right out and say it, money drives the whole thing. (You see, it's a Christian university, so they can't talk about money, except to tell us that we shouldn't complain about it so much.) (No bitterness there, eh?) So we are preparing to move.
Okay, you dragged the truth out of me, Horyon is preparing to move. I have packed a box and moved a few things around, at her prodding. Those of you who have seen me move will be nodding your heads right now and feeling sorry for my wife. Pray for her. Pray for her sanity. Even if you believe that God ignores all prayers, even if you believe that God doesn't exist, pray for her. This will be another test of our love.
Summertime Greens
I chose "Greens" because of Kermit the Frog's song about being green. He says it's cool and friendly-like, big like an ocean, important like a mountain, or tall like a tree. Horyon told me just yesterday that she missed Kansas. It is a good place to call home.
My Mom considers herself to be quite fortunate, in some respects. Despite having been blessed with two sons, she was still given the opportunity to plan two weddings. (Okay, mine was a vow renewal service, but it sure looked a lot like a wedding.) Now, when I hear the words "wedding" and "plan" in the same sentence, I start to get nervous, but that is Mom's cup of tea. She loves organizing big events, she loves seeing it all come together, and I think on some masochistic level she even likes the stress involved.
It was very nice. Our former minister, Rev. Bill Nowlan, came out of semi-retirement to co-officiate with Rev. Jim Bell. My Uncle Tom sang a song that his wife, Debbie, chose–John Lennon's "Grow Old With Me." Absolutely beautiful. (Well, the singing was beautiful, Tom looked like Tom.) Many friends attended, including some from quite far away (thanks Jerry and Michele!).
We had wedding cake. Oh my oh my it was good. Let me tell you something: Koreans like cake, and you can buy cakes everywhere. They look beautiful, with fruit on top, or chocolate. But when you taste it, something is wrong: Korean cake isn't sweet. They think American style cakes are too sweet, so they make theirs really bland, especially the icing. Some people adjust to this, and I used to think it was okay, but after having old-fashioned American wedding cake, I can no longer eat Korean cake.
Our wedding cake was yummy.
And we had an outdoor cookout after the vow renewal ceremony. We had hamburgers and hotdogs and potato salad and all of my relatives brought food. The heat finally broke and it was only in the 80's that day, so everyone felt cool and comfortable. We tossed a frisbee around, ate food, and socialized. A truly good time.
Saying goodbye the following Monday was pretty rough. Poor Horyon felt like she was just getting to know my parents, and I almost felt the same. I know they're my parents, but when you go so long without being with someone, it takes some time to get back into the comfort zone.
Who am I kidding? Our comfort zone has so far proven to be wide enough to encompass Korea and Kansas at the same time. It may one day prove big enough to encompass other planets. For the record, I would like to tell all of you that my parents are the best people you could hope to meet, and I would have no other parents. We are friends, and Horyon quickly adjusted to that pattern. It was hard for both of us to leave because we like them, as well as loving them.
Well, Horyon was worried that I would leave you with the impression that we did very little in Kansas this summer. While it is true that it was our vacation, and we did spend some time doing nothing, we did do a lot of thing. I'm just not going to tell you about all of them right now.
Except for Uncle Don's barbecue. Let me tell you, my Uncle Don can cook. We managed to have a disproportionate number of meals at Becky and Don's house considering that they are a 45 minute drive from home. We also ate a disproportionate amount of food, too. Mmm, barbecue. Nothing in Korea comes close.
And there you have a slice of the recent present as well as last summer. Our home computer will probably be down from Thursday thru Saturday, but my work computer will still be working. I'm always happy to hear from anyone who receives my messages. Just let me know you're alive and kicking.
Peace,
Rob
p.s. The shoe being on the other foot just means that I used to be a university student, and then a professor, and now I'm both. And I couldn't think of a good idiom for that.
Thursday, July 26, 2001
Peter's Broken Leg
[Another archived mass email, this one originally entitled "Full Circle." Though it was sent around July 26, 2001, the events covered take place in the fall of 2000, and center around Peter Hart's close encounter with a cinderblock wall and the Korean health care system.]
Dear Friends, Family and Loved Ones:
Well, I really dropped the ball on getting back to you. Rest assured that I did not move to a cave and go primitive. It has felt like that from time to time, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't. I just got married, that's all. And at times it feels like moving to a cave would be a smaller change, in part because a cave would not come with in-laws.
Also rest assured that the broken leg in question was not my own. Though the story of the broken leg, and the man attached to it, is intertwined with my own story, and brings me about full circle in part of my own life story.
Flashback, anyone?
In September 1998 I came to work at ELS in Somyon, Pusan. On September 17th I broke my leg. I stayed in a Korean hospital, had a miserable time, and got over it. End of flashback. If you want the detailed version, ask me and I'll email it to you.
By September 2000, Peter Hart, originally from London, England, had been in Korea for eight months, and was enjoying himself, even when the wind was blowing. Until September 16th, when the wind blew just a bit too hard and blew over a cinder block wall, part of which landed on Peter's right leg, not just breaking it, but breaking his shin bone into three distinct pieces.
I was in the middle of class when an ELS staff person came in looking very confused and asked me to take the phone. It was Peter, in an ambulance, sounding absolutely terrified and tortured. Some of my high-level students, one of whom was a doctor, gave me a ride to the hospital. It was a terrible, gut-wrenching experience. Once we got there, it was like reliving the whole thing, the pain, the humiliation, the anger. Seeing it happen to someone else did not make it easier.
The students who came along told me later that they were surprised at my behavior. Specifically, I think, when I asked a gentleman in the elevator if it was so *%&!!#ing hard to hold the *%&!!#ing elevator door open for a guy with a broken leg? Oh yes, I was definitely not at my best. And in the X-ray room, when the technician casually picked up Petey's broken leg by the heel, I felt it in my gut and damn near fainted myself.
I remembered my time in the hospital, surrounded by people I didn't know, comforted rarely by people I barely knew, and under the complete control of people I couldn't understand. I refused to leave Pete's side until he went into surgery about four hours later. While he was in surgery, my manager and I went back to ELS and made a quick game plan to cover Peter's classes for the rest of the month. We also arranged for his roommate, Dave, to bring some of Pete's stuff to the hospital. And I made it back to the hospital before he came to. I stayed with him until his girlfriend, Juyoung, arrived. I spent the next night in the hospital with him, though.
The next month was somewhat like reliving my own life. Well, actually, it was more like watching someone else relive my life! I quickly became one of Peter's best friends, because I was one of the few people who completely understood what he was going through. (To be fair, though, Petey and I were on pretty good footing before. At one point he said to me that I was the most non-typical-American American he had ever met, and I told him that he was the least British Brit I had ever met. (Go back and double-check the hyphens on that. Go on, I dare ya!)
And so once again I have gotten caught up in details that you are not particularly interested in. So allow me to conclude the Peter Portion of the Story by adding that for a while Petey had the coolest contraption on his leg. No cast. Instead it was this collection of aluminum rods, arcs, and weird stuff. Some of the rods went *through* his leg, looking like something out of one of those Hellraiser movies. Disgusting, but fascinating at the same time. He had continuing problems with infection, probably related to staying on his feet too much and drinking beverages that people in his condition shouldn't drink.
At one point in his recovery, he asked me to give him a full schedule. Against my better judgement, I did. He couldn't do it all, so I picked up two hours of his classes. It was a looong month for Rob, with a total of 3 hr/day of overtime. Made good money though, which came in handy, because . . .
A Korean wedding is expensive.
To be continued...
So which would you rather have, a cliff hangar or more delays?
Dear Friends, Family and Loved Ones:
Well, I really dropped the ball on getting back to you. Rest assured that I did not move to a cave and go primitive. It has felt like that from time to time, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't. I just got married, that's all. And at times it feels like moving to a cave would be a smaller change, in part because a cave would not come with in-laws.
Also rest assured that the broken leg in question was not my own. Though the story of the broken leg, and the man attached to it, is intertwined with my own story, and brings me about full circle in part of my own life story.
Flashback, anyone?
In September 1998 I came to work at ELS in Somyon, Pusan. On September 17th I broke my leg. I stayed in a Korean hospital, had a miserable time, and got over it. End of flashback. If you want the detailed version, ask me and I'll email it to you.
By September 2000, Peter Hart, originally from London, England, had been in Korea for eight months, and was enjoying himself, even when the wind was blowing. Until September 16th, when the wind blew just a bit too hard and blew over a cinder block wall, part of which landed on Peter's right leg, not just breaking it, but breaking his shin bone into three distinct pieces.
I was in the middle of class when an ELS staff person came in looking very confused and asked me to take the phone. It was Peter, in an ambulance, sounding absolutely terrified and tortured. Some of my high-level students, one of whom was a doctor, gave me a ride to the hospital. It was a terrible, gut-wrenching experience. Once we got there, it was like reliving the whole thing, the pain, the humiliation, the anger. Seeing it happen to someone else did not make it easier.
The students who came along told me later that they were surprised at my behavior. Specifically, I think, when I asked a gentleman in the elevator if it was so *%&!!#ing hard to hold the *%&!!#ing elevator door open for a guy with a broken leg? Oh yes, I was definitely not at my best. And in the X-ray room, when the technician casually picked up Petey's broken leg by the heel, I felt it in my gut and damn near fainted myself.
I remembered my time in the hospital, surrounded by people I didn't know, comforted rarely by people I barely knew, and under the complete control of people I couldn't understand. I refused to leave Pete's side until he went into surgery about four hours later. While he was in surgery, my manager and I went back to ELS and made a quick game plan to cover Peter's classes for the rest of the month. We also arranged for his roommate, Dave, to bring some of Pete's stuff to the hospital. And I made it back to the hospital before he came to. I stayed with him until his girlfriend, Juyoung, arrived. I spent the next night in the hospital with him, though.
The next month was somewhat like reliving my own life. Well, actually, it was more like watching someone else relive my life! I quickly became one of Peter's best friends, because I was one of the few people who completely understood what he was going through. (To be fair, though, Petey and I were on pretty good footing before. At one point he said to me that I was the most non-typical-American American he had ever met, and I told him that he was the least British Brit I had ever met. (Go back and double-check the hyphens on that. Go on, I dare ya!)
And so once again I have gotten caught up in details that you are not particularly interested in. So allow me to conclude the Peter Portion of the Story by adding that for a while Petey had the coolest contraption on his leg. No cast. Instead it was this collection of aluminum rods, arcs, and weird stuff. Some of the rods went *through* his leg, looking like something out of one of those Hellraiser movies. Disgusting, but fascinating at the same time. He had continuing problems with infection, probably related to staying on his feet too much and drinking beverages that people in his condition shouldn't drink.
At one point in his recovery, he asked me to give him a full schedule. Against my better judgement, I did. He couldn't do it all, so I picked up two hours of his classes. It was a looong month for Rob, with a total of 3 hr/day of overtime. Made good money though, which came in handy, because . . .
A Korean wedding is expensive.
To be continued...
So which would you rather have, a cliff hangar or more delays?
[Yes, I used the wrong hangar. Jon VanHoose commented that it gave him an amazing vision of a home for planes clinging to a cliff, from which they could take off by just falling. It's tempting to go back and edit these pieces, but that's a slippery slope I do not wish to approach. If I ever write a memoir, I'll consider it.]
Wednesday, October 04, 2000
How I Met Your Mother... (June 2000)
[This post is another from the archive of mass emails I am retrieving from deep in my PCs guts. Copied from hard drive to hard drive by zealous, microscopic scribes. My original title for this was "Horyon," but this strikes me as being a bit more legend... wait for it... dairy. This is an early account of how I met Horyon. Spoiler alert: we ended up getting married.]
Well, it's the letter that some of you have been waiting for a long time. But first, allow me to complete some Nepal ideas: I want to say thank you to all of you who responded in such a supportive way to my Nepal experience. It will always be tough to deal with some of those issues, but a good friend reminded me that everyone has things to deal with in life, and mine are only different in that they are more visible. I don't know if it does you any good to see my struggles to coexist with poverty in the world, but sharing helps me to deal with it. And the responses I've gotten also remind me that I'm not entirely in the habit of building a wall around my past, I'm just lazy. I've gotten replies from people I've known all my life, people I've known since university, people I've met in the last year, and people who've known me since I was a little tyke. No replies from any Nepalis, because none of them have email access. Writing an actual letter feels something like pulling off of a freeway into a school zone–an uncomfortable shift in speed.
In actuality, a Nepal 3 letter would probably be a good idea; escaping from the Eastern hills of Nepal was quite an adventure, with a few pleasant surprises and many tests of patience. But I'm not going to. At least not now. And so, on with the letter.
A funny thing has happened to me recently: my house has been feeling empty. I've done a quick stuff count and found that everything is here, but it still feels empty. After living in this apartment for a year, why does it suddenly feel like something is missing? Well...
I got back to Korea at the end of January and taught in February. In the evenings I had one class, a high level class with very few students. Our average attendance was three or four students, and sometimes there were only one or two. One of those students was Horyon. She was the most enthusiastic student in the class, as well as being very talented in learning English. And pretty. But a teacher isn't supposed to notice things like being pretty, so I'm not bringing it up again.
I must apologize for neglecting the other students in this class. I didn't neglect them at the time, but my tendency now is to push them into the background, even Sunyoung, who had been my student a few months earlier.
Anyway, in the first week of class, we found out that Horyon was engaged to be married sometime in the fall to a Korean guy studying in Ohio. And so, despite the fact that she was fascinating to me, as well as attractive, I wrote her off. I make it a point not to get involved with women who are in relationships, and "engaged" is definitely "in a relationship".
Again, this was a small, high level class, so the format was usually just free conversation. I would bring a topic or idea, and we would just talk. Sometimes I would clarify grammar points, or nail down new vocabulary, but usually we all just sat around talking. Informal and friendly.
Then, about a week and a half before the end of class, I had invited Jason and Sora, a couple who are friends of mine, over for dinner on a Saturday. I had intended to ask someone else over, to avoid being the third wheel, but it was a busy week and it slipped my mind until that Friday. I asked a couple of people, but everyone had plans. Then, after class on Friday night, Horyon needed a copy of something, so she came to the office with me. We chatted, and I gave her her copy, and she headed out. As she was going through the door, I asked her if she wanted to join me and a couple of friends for dinner the next night. I knew she would be a good conversationalist, and that she had been around foreigners a lot, and so I just asked. And maybe I was starting to feel the potential for something. Later she told me that she had felt the potential much earlier than this, and that when I invited her to dinner, she was very nervous and excited. I have to admit, I was, too.
She came over, and we all had a good time. Jason and Sora knew nothing about her, and were quite surprised to find out that she was engaged. Sora, being a somewhat straight-forward person, told Horyon that it sounded like a bad relationship. No matter that Jason and I agreed, that was an awkward moment for us.
Now Sora tells me that I owe her. Sora, I'm not sure about that. I think Horyon and I would have gotten together anyway, but thank you for being so honest and caring.
Jason's verdict, after Horyon left, was "Wow, Rob. You finally got a sane girlfriend. To bad about the fiancé thing." At the time she wasn't my girlfriend, but I've since then more than fixed that. Ditto on the fiancé thing.
During the last week of class, our class went out for dinner and a beer. During dinner, she said the nicest thing that any student has ever said to me. It went something like this:
"If you ask me to describe Rob, first I say he is a nice guy, then funny, and a good teacher, and later that he is a foreigner. With all of the other foreigners I know, even the family I lived with in England for three months, I think of them as foreigners first. It's very unusual, and I think quite good."
Later she told me that she consciously left out that she liked me, which is a big, and sometimes embarrassing statement for Korean students to make about their foreign teachers. Nevertheless, at the time I was almost moved to tears. Over the last year and a half, students have said nice things to me and about me, but the issue of being a foreigner was always there, even if it wasn't spoken. I was always aware of it, sometimes in a critical way, sometimes not. Having that overcome was a big shock, especially so because she did it first.
You see, I sometimes slip into being completely myself in class, but usually I also maintain a small barrier of nationality and formality. I do this because when you don't, you get hurt. People say things and do things that hurt. If I think of them as "Korean students" rather than "friends", then I'm not offended when they don't show for appointments, or comment about my weight, or ask why I'm not married. Yes, it's a kind of stereotype, but one that has had a practical use in my life.
Horyon's knocked a big hole in it. Left it behind. Reminded me that whatever the basis for our stereotypes, sometimes they're wrong.
That Friday I came to ELS about 45 minutes early, and found Horyon waiting out in the hall. I already knew what I was doing for class, so I asked if she wanted to talk for a while and record the conversation. We did, and I still have the tape. (I haven't listened to it yet. I think that some day it will be very interesting for us both.) A few minutes before class time, she went up to the class room, and then I joined her. We sat and talked for about 15 minutes before realizing that no one else was coming to class. Upon realizing this, we continued talking until the end of class.
Then I asked if she wanted to go have a beer. We went and had a two-hour beer, and talked. While we were talking, I reached across the table and started playing with her fingers a bit, stroking them, picking them up, and finally settling into a little digital dance. The conversation continued as before, with neither of us pointing out that our hands were being a bit more casual than we were.
It didn't take us long to catch up with our hands.
Horyon had invited me to dinner at her house that Sunday. Actually, her parents invited me. This is before they formed the conception that I'm the devil and ordered her to...
Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. Horyon came to church with me that day, and my church friends all asked me if she was my girlfriend. I said, "No, but I hope that will change!" We had a lovely dinner with her parents and some of their friends who were excited to meet a foreigner. Everyone had a good time, and we all expressed the hope that this would be repeated in the future. Hasn't happened yet, but as soon as my status changes to something less demonic, I'm sure it will.
Her father gave me a ride home that night, and Horyon sat in the back seat with me. I held her hand, and she seemed to like it. Keep in mind, at this point we still hadn't talked about this holding hands business.
We had two more days of class, and I think we fooled everyone into thinking that nothing was going on. Not difficult. Both of us are professional teachers, and therefore used to lying to our students.
That Wednesday, March 1st, was Independence Movement Day. We both had the day off, and we agreed to meet. We ended up coming to my house and talking. We sat and talked for a long time, then I delivered one of the most pitiful lines in the world: "Do you like to be surprised by a kiss, or would you rather be asked first?" She didn't say anything, she just kissed me. And we talked. We talked about the troubles mixed nationality couples have in this country. We talked about our plans for the future. And we talked about her relationship.
Two days later she came to my office five minutes before I had to teach. She was confused about what she should do, and I told her that she had to make up her mind about what she wanted. I spent the rest of the evening teaching with my mind elsewhere. And while I was walking home that evening, halfway across the bridge over the railroad tracks, I had a moment of clarity. Suddenly I KNEW that I wanted Horyon, wanted her more than anything I've ever wanted. I could picture my life if I lost her (without even *having* her!), and it seemed lonely and boring. I could also picture my life with her, and it seemed full, and happy, and interesting, and colorful, and exciting, and worthwhile. It was like being on a path that splits in two directions, and I knew that I couldn't delay this decision; it was essential to reach out to her before she could slip away. It was a moment that will be etched into my memory forever, a feeling so intense that it was physical, I had to laugh out loud, throw my arms in the air, and say out loud, "Oh God, is this real?" Feelings like this are for movies and books and songs, not *people*, like me!
And so when I got home I called her, and poured my heart out over the phone.
And that began the first relationship I've ever been in that hasn't felt like a roller coaster ride. It's felt more like coming back to a home I never knew I had.
Next time I'll tell you about how I proposed....
Peace,
Rob
Well, it's the letter that some of you have been waiting for a long time. But first, allow me to complete some Nepal ideas: I want to say thank you to all of you who responded in such a supportive way to my Nepal experience. It will always be tough to deal with some of those issues, but a good friend reminded me that everyone has things to deal with in life, and mine are only different in that they are more visible. I don't know if it does you any good to see my struggles to coexist with poverty in the world, but sharing helps me to deal with it. And the responses I've gotten also remind me that I'm not entirely in the habit of building a wall around my past, I'm just lazy. I've gotten replies from people I've known all my life, people I've known since university, people I've met in the last year, and people who've known me since I was a little tyke. No replies from any Nepalis, because none of them have email access. Writing an actual letter feels something like pulling off of a freeway into a school zone–an uncomfortable shift in speed.
In actuality, a Nepal 3 letter would probably be a good idea; escaping from the Eastern hills of Nepal was quite an adventure, with a few pleasant surprises and many tests of patience. But I'm not going to. At least not now. And so, on with the letter.
A funny thing has happened to me recently: my house has been feeling empty. I've done a quick stuff count and found that everything is here, but it still feels empty. After living in this apartment for a year, why does it suddenly feel like something is missing? Well...
I got back to Korea at the end of January and taught in February. In the evenings I had one class, a high level class with very few students. Our average attendance was three or four students, and sometimes there were only one or two. One of those students was Horyon. She was the most enthusiastic student in the class, as well as being very talented in learning English. And pretty. But a teacher isn't supposed to notice things like being pretty, so I'm not bringing it up again.
I must apologize for neglecting the other students in this class. I didn't neglect them at the time, but my tendency now is to push them into the background, even Sunyoung, who had been my student a few months earlier.
Anyway, in the first week of class, we found out that Horyon was engaged to be married sometime in the fall to a Korean guy studying in Ohio. And so, despite the fact that she was fascinating to me, as well as attractive, I wrote her off. I make it a point not to get involved with women who are in relationships, and "engaged" is definitely "in a relationship".
Again, this was a small, high level class, so the format was usually just free conversation. I would bring a topic or idea, and we would just talk. Sometimes I would clarify grammar points, or nail down new vocabulary, but usually we all just sat around talking. Informal and friendly.
Then, about a week and a half before the end of class, I had invited Jason and Sora, a couple who are friends of mine, over for dinner on a Saturday. I had intended to ask someone else over, to avoid being the third wheel, but it was a busy week and it slipped my mind until that Friday. I asked a couple of people, but everyone had plans. Then, after class on Friday night, Horyon needed a copy of something, so she came to the office with me. We chatted, and I gave her her copy, and she headed out. As she was going through the door, I asked her if she wanted to join me and a couple of friends for dinner the next night. I knew she would be a good conversationalist, and that she had been around foreigners a lot, and so I just asked. And maybe I was starting to feel the potential for something. Later she told me that she had felt the potential much earlier than this, and that when I invited her to dinner, she was very nervous and excited. I have to admit, I was, too.
She came over, and we all had a good time. Jason and Sora knew nothing about her, and were quite surprised to find out that she was engaged. Sora, being a somewhat straight-forward person, told Horyon that it sounded like a bad relationship. No matter that Jason and I agreed, that was an awkward moment for us.
Now Sora tells me that I owe her. Sora, I'm not sure about that. I think Horyon and I would have gotten together anyway, but thank you for being so honest and caring.
Jason's verdict, after Horyon left, was "Wow, Rob. You finally got a sane girlfriend. To bad about the fiancé thing." At the time she wasn't my girlfriend, but I've since then more than fixed that. Ditto on the fiancé thing.
During the last week of class, our class went out for dinner and a beer. During dinner, she said the nicest thing that any student has ever said to me. It went something like this:
"If you ask me to describe Rob, first I say he is a nice guy, then funny, and a good teacher, and later that he is a foreigner. With all of the other foreigners I know, even the family I lived with in England for three months, I think of them as foreigners first. It's very unusual, and I think quite good."
Later she told me that she consciously left out that she liked me, which is a big, and sometimes embarrassing statement for Korean students to make about their foreign teachers. Nevertheless, at the time I was almost moved to tears. Over the last year and a half, students have said nice things to me and about me, but the issue of being a foreigner was always there, even if it wasn't spoken. I was always aware of it, sometimes in a critical way, sometimes not. Having that overcome was a big shock, especially so because she did it first.
You see, I sometimes slip into being completely myself in class, but usually I also maintain a small barrier of nationality and formality. I do this because when you don't, you get hurt. People say things and do things that hurt. If I think of them as "Korean students" rather than "friends", then I'm not offended when they don't show for appointments, or comment about my weight, or ask why I'm not married. Yes, it's a kind of stereotype, but one that has had a practical use in my life.
Horyon's knocked a big hole in it. Left it behind. Reminded me that whatever the basis for our stereotypes, sometimes they're wrong.
That Friday I came to ELS about 45 minutes early, and found Horyon waiting out in the hall. I already knew what I was doing for class, so I asked if she wanted to talk for a while and record the conversation. We did, and I still have the tape. (I haven't listened to it yet. I think that some day it will be very interesting for us both.) A few minutes before class time, she went up to the class room, and then I joined her. We sat and talked for about 15 minutes before realizing that no one else was coming to class. Upon realizing this, we continued talking until the end of class.
Then I asked if she wanted to go have a beer. We went and had a two-hour beer, and talked. While we were talking, I reached across the table and started playing with her fingers a bit, stroking them, picking them up, and finally settling into a little digital dance. The conversation continued as before, with neither of us pointing out that our hands were being a bit more casual than we were.
It didn't take us long to catch up with our hands.
Horyon had invited me to dinner at her house that Sunday. Actually, her parents invited me. This is before they formed the conception that I'm the devil and ordered her to...
Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. Horyon came to church with me that day, and my church friends all asked me if she was my girlfriend. I said, "No, but I hope that will change!" We had a lovely dinner with her parents and some of their friends who were excited to meet a foreigner. Everyone had a good time, and we all expressed the hope that this would be repeated in the future. Hasn't happened yet, but as soon as my status changes to something less demonic, I'm sure it will.
Her father gave me a ride home that night, and Horyon sat in the back seat with me. I held her hand, and she seemed to like it. Keep in mind, at this point we still hadn't talked about this holding hands business.
We had two more days of class, and I think we fooled everyone into thinking that nothing was going on. Not difficult. Both of us are professional teachers, and therefore used to lying to our students.
That Wednesday, March 1st, was Independence Movement Day. We both had the day off, and we agreed to meet. We ended up coming to my house and talking. We sat and talked for a long time, then I delivered one of the most pitiful lines in the world: "Do you like to be surprised by a kiss, or would you rather be asked first?" She didn't say anything, she just kissed me. And we talked. We talked about the troubles mixed nationality couples have in this country. We talked about our plans for the future. And we talked about her relationship.
Two days later she came to my office five minutes before I had to teach. She was confused about what she should do, and I told her that she had to make up her mind about what she wanted. I spent the rest of the evening teaching with my mind elsewhere. And while I was walking home that evening, halfway across the bridge over the railroad tracks, I had a moment of clarity. Suddenly I KNEW that I wanted Horyon, wanted her more than anything I've ever wanted. I could picture my life if I lost her (without even *having* her!), and it seemed lonely and boring. I could also picture my life with her, and it seemed full, and happy, and interesting, and colorful, and exciting, and worthwhile. It was like being on a path that splits in two directions, and I knew that I couldn't delay this decision; it was essential to reach out to her before she could slip away. It was a moment that will be etched into my memory forever, a feeling so intense that it was physical, I had to laugh out loud, throw my arms in the air, and say out loud, "Oh God, is this real?" Feelings like this are for movies and books and songs, not *people*, like me!
And so when I got home I called her, and poured my heart out over the phone.
And that began the first relationship I've ever been in that hasn't felt like a roller coaster ride. It's felt more like coming back to a home I never knew I had.
Next time I'll tell you about how I proposed....
Peace,
Rob
Tuesday, November 30, 1999
Chris' Wedding, First Date
[I am in the process of going through back-ups of back-up files, deep in the digital archives of my writings. Before the Roblog I used to send mass emails to anyone who was interested. This one includes my brother's wedding and the lead-up to the Nepal trip the month before I met Horyon. It was sent in November of 1999.]
To all of you separated from me by time and distance, Hey! Howya doin'?
First of all, I would like to (again) apologize for taking so long to write. Many things have happened since the last time I wrote, most of which I'll be doing really well to remember. So forgive me if I wander off on some Garrison Keilor sounding rant.
To assist in keeping order, I shall work in reverse chronological order, with frequent breaks to go to the bathroom.
I recently heard on the radio (I get NPR here) that letter writing is quickly becoming a forgotten skill; who saves actual hard copies of email? Plus, we all tend to dash off quick, meaningless-out-of-context messages that aren't worth saving. True, I do it myself. But I wouldn't trade it back, no siree. Take it from someone who had to do it all with pen and paper, it's a pain in the tush. (Color me surprised! The spell checker took it!) Anyway, perhaps my handwriting is becoming endangered, but I don't care. I'm trying to keep my idea flow working.
So to start, I will go all the way back to an afternoon not too long ago. A nice, cool day in Pusan. One could almost forget that just a couple of months ago the standard attire was clothing soaked in sweat. Anyway, JP and I were eating lunch together–JP is my coworker and sort of supervisor–when one of our students came into the same restaurant. Tubby is one of those people who is incredibly lacking in social skills, I'm sure he has some sort of learning disability. He studies as much or more than any student I know, but his speech does not get any faster or smoother. One example of his lack of social prowess is that he chose his nickname from the Telle-Tubbies, and he seems quite proud of it. Tubby is in my class this month, and it's my third time to have him. He's a nice guy, but he insists on talking with me at any opportunity, to the extent of ignoring his group or partner. And due to a logistical/sympathetic screw-up, he's in a higher level class than he should be in. His classmates are kind and patient, and I think they're learning that his grammar skills and enthusiasm far outstrip his speaking ability.
When he started class last Monday by asking what I had done that weekend, I told him about the party I went to on Saturday. It was a birthday party for a man I don't know. Sora, a Korean friend of mine, invited her boyfriend Jason and I to her boss' birthday party. As soon as we got there, I was separated from them. I found myself sitting with some nice people who spoke very little English. We muddled along as best as we could, and one man made do with the universal language: sharing booze. Twenty minutes into it, I was relocated closer to Jason and Sora. Where I was seated next to a young woman who spoke a bit of English, highly augmented by that booze language I mentioned earlier.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the food: Bulgogi is the premier feed-it-to foreigners food in Korea. It starts with a little barbecue grill set up in the middle of the table, and gets even more entertaining. You use the grill to cook strips of marinated beef or pork to perfection, then prepare for eating. Some folks like to just eat it. I like to go all the way: The beef is placed on a lettuce leaf, then a slice of raw garlic, then some red pepper paste, a bit of rice, and some green onion salad. The lettuce leaf is folded up, and the neat little (or big) package is shoved into one's mouth. From this point on, standard chewing and swallowing procedures are followed. To me, this meal is not quite complete without soju, the Korean equivalent of White Lightening, or homemade paint thinner. The first couple of shots are a little rough going down, but then you don't notice so much.
Anyway, knowing my audience the way I do, you all want to know more about the young woman, right? Her nickname was Amy, and she was nice in a drunken sort of way. She was very flirtatious with me, though Sora told me that she's like that with everyone. Just so you understand what I mean by "flirtatious," I mean that she talked directly to me, even touching my arm or knee from time to time. Sora also told me that everyone was jealous that I just sort of showed up and monopolized her like that. Very early into her explanation I laughed, and Sora asked why. I said, "Do you know what it means that she's acting like this?" "No," was her reply. Jason and I then said in unison, "Absolutely nothing," and laughed like loons.
After singing "Happy Birthday", we went to a Norae Bang (singing room, pronounced "no-ray-bahng"). Seems like it would have been a good idea to save the birthday singing for here, but no one asked me. Anyway, at the norae bang, there was beer and fruit (a favorite combination here), and lots of singing and silly behavior. Amy sat nowhere near me and practically ignored me. I've been in Korea long enough to not be surprised by that. Jason and I got up in front of everyone and sang "We are the Champions." Big fun. But some of Sora's coworkers were starting to get to the point where they were having trouble holding their alcohol. Yes, some was dropped on the floor, but that's not what I meant. One guy kept hitting on Jason, which always puts him in a bad mood. When the guy actually touched Jason's . . . private area, we decided it was time to go.
In direct contrast, this past Saturday I had some students come to my home. It was partly a gesture of friendship, partly the urge to do something different, and partly self-motivation to clean my house. It worked, to some extent. It was a unique event in that it was an evening, weekend meeting at which no one drank any alcoholic beverages. I'm sure that some of you are thinking, "So, what's the big deal?" Trust me. With a group of twenty-somethings, getting together almost always means drinking. Instead, we ate some food, drank some juice, and talked. We shared our past screwed-up love stories (everybody's got one). It was really interesting to hear some of the reasons they break up. They have an interesting combination of traditional Eastern and Western values. Unlike previous generations, they believe that love is important. Some of them think it is *most* important. But class still figures in
I met four of them in Nampodong, the "downtown" of Pusan, with the highest concentration of movie theaters, restaurants, bars, stores, hotels, fish markets, and weird people. We saw the movie "Cube." About half of them liked it, the other half were annoyed with it. I was annoyed at first, but then decided that I wasn't being fair. What I was really feeling was the need for the movie to continue, when continuing would have been a mistake. It was a bit disgusting in a couple of places, perhaps excessively so, but it seemed necessary to give the feeling that the director wanted.
The six students who ended up at my house were actually my students in October. The class was one of my all time favorites, even though we only had 3/4 of the usual amount of class time. I was only working a 6 hour schedule (six teaching hours per day), but I had to miss five of the 20 teaching days because of a minor trip to America. I was really in the mood for some barbecue, and my brother was getting married. So I started my stopwatch and left my home at about 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday, October 20. Twenty-six hours later I had no idea what time it was, was only slightly more sure of the day, and having incoherent conversation with my parents. I tell you, no matter how many times I come home from overseas, I will never get over the leap my heart makes when I see them waiting for me.
I spent the next afternoon and evening with Chris and Allison. Chris and I finished it off with a late night tailgate chat that was exactly the sort of thing you should avoid if you want to minimize jet lag. I'm pretty good at this when I make the effort, but this time I decided it wasn't worth it. Four days and four nights is enough time to get mostly over jet lag, which means adjusted to the time zone you're in. Which means that you've got another set of jet lag upon return to your origin. So I didn't even try. As a result, my four days and five nights in America felt like a bizarre blend of time, something between 36 hours and a month and a half. The return trip was even longer, as my arrival in Seoul was after the last flight for Pusan. I had to work the next day, so I took the night train. I got home at about 3:30 a.m., with nothing to do until my class at 8:00. So I unpacked, ate some food, and went to the public bath near my home. In the next three days I taught classes, made student evaluations, and tried to go on as though nothing had happened.
I was a week and a half getting over the worst double jet lag I hope to ever have. But it was worth it. I had personal contact with most of my family, and a fair amount of contact with friends. Not enough time, not by a long shot, but I made the most of it.
Still, all in all October was a relaxing follow-up to July, August and September. My apologies to any fans of these months, but they weren't pleasant for me this year. As you may recall, my parents visited me here in June. It was my first time to have a place of my own that my parents visited. It was, of course, hell. But much more pleasant than I expected hell to be. But I covered that in some previous letter, I'm sure, so back to the more immediate past.
In July, I took on an 8 hour schedule, partly to make up for lost time and money, partly to pick up some slack at the office. July and August are busy months at ELS, and although June isn't, with one teacher gone it is. So I wanted to make things a bit easier on the other teachers. It was also my turn to teach the middle school students for four hours on Saturdays. I was working 34 teaching hour weeks, but I had just come off of a (for lack of a better word) vacation, so I was ready for it. Oh, by the way, my classes were all level one. Low levels. My English was becomed more and more worser. I also teached middle school students in the Saturday. They not so much good. Verbs wrong using.
Shudder. Yikes. Fortunately, I gotted over it.
In August, I cut back to 7 hours, and volunteered to share the Saturday classes with another teacher. I had a mix of levels, and I still had a pretty good energy reserve. I also had one of the most interesting classes of my ELS career: the "Tank and Bon-Bon class." Tank is a guy whose nick-name comes from his soccer playing ability, and Bon-Bon is his girl-friend who puts the cutest little pauses and head-tilts in her speech. Fun people. Tank's sense of humor is sarcastic and very dry, and Bon-Bon is the Gracie to his George. They changed class times the following month, and so they were with me again.
In September my teaching prowess with the middle-schoolers was acknowledged and duly rewarded. In other words, they made me teach all the Saturdays in September. Along with another 7 hour schedule, making for 39 hours a week. Again. This is when I started to run out of energy. By the end of September, I was ready for a break.
October and November were six-hour schedules, very nice. Now December's schedule has started, and I am again teaching eight hours. Being most senior at ELS, I have the best schedule with the fewest breaks. I start at 7:00 a.m., finish at 10:00 p.m., and have off from noon to six. I can't complain, as four of the teachers have to teach at three in the afternoon. Yikes.
But the end is in sight. By the end of December, my contract will be finished. January 6, I am going back to Nepal! I will stay for three weeks. Not enough, I know, but I plan to be back working in February. Hopefully only part time. Details will be sent as they become available. Again, sorry about the long delay. I hope that this letter finds all of you in good health and happy spirits. Don't let Christmas get you down!
Peace,
Rob
To all of you separated from me by time and distance, Hey! Howya doin'?
First of all, I would like to (again) apologize for taking so long to write. Many things have happened since the last time I wrote, most of which I'll be doing really well to remember. So forgive me if I wander off on some Garrison Keilor sounding rant.
To assist in keeping order, I shall work in reverse chronological order, with frequent breaks to go to the bathroom.
I recently heard on the radio (I get NPR here) that letter writing is quickly becoming a forgotten skill; who saves actual hard copies of email? Plus, we all tend to dash off quick, meaningless-out-of-context messages that aren't worth saving. True, I do it myself. But I wouldn't trade it back, no siree. Take it from someone who had to do it all with pen and paper, it's a pain in the tush. (Color me surprised! The spell checker took it!) Anyway, perhaps my handwriting is becoming endangered, but I don't care. I'm trying to keep my idea flow working.
So to start, I will go all the way back to an afternoon not too long ago. A nice, cool day in Pusan. One could almost forget that just a couple of months ago the standard attire was clothing soaked in sweat. Anyway, JP and I were eating lunch together–JP is my coworker and sort of supervisor–when one of our students came into the same restaurant. Tubby is one of those people who is incredibly lacking in social skills, I'm sure he has some sort of learning disability. He studies as much or more than any student I know, but his speech does not get any faster or smoother. One example of his lack of social prowess is that he chose his nickname from the Telle-Tubbies, and he seems quite proud of it. Tubby is in my class this month, and it's my third time to have him. He's a nice guy, but he insists on talking with me at any opportunity, to the extent of ignoring his group or partner. And due to a logistical/sympathetic screw-up, he's in a higher level class than he should be in. His classmates are kind and patient, and I think they're learning that his grammar skills and enthusiasm far outstrip his speaking ability.
When he started class last Monday by asking what I had done that weekend, I told him about the party I went to on Saturday. It was a birthday party for a man I don't know. Sora, a Korean friend of mine, invited her boyfriend Jason and I to her boss' birthday party. As soon as we got there, I was separated from them. I found myself sitting with some nice people who spoke very little English. We muddled along as best as we could, and one man made do with the universal language: sharing booze. Twenty minutes into it, I was relocated closer to Jason and Sora. Where I was seated next to a young woman who spoke a bit of English, highly augmented by that booze language I mentioned earlier.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the food: Bulgogi is the premier feed-it-to foreigners food in Korea. It starts with a little barbecue grill set up in the middle of the table, and gets even more entertaining. You use the grill to cook strips of marinated beef or pork to perfection, then prepare for eating. Some folks like to just eat it. I like to go all the way: The beef is placed on a lettuce leaf, then a slice of raw garlic, then some red pepper paste, a bit of rice, and some green onion salad. The lettuce leaf is folded up, and the neat little (or big) package is shoved into one's mouth. From this point on, standard chewing and swallowing procedures are followed. To me, this meal is not quite complete without soju, the Korean equivalent of White Lightening, or homemade paint thinner. The first couple of shots are a little rough going down, but then you don't notice so much.
Anyway, knowing my audience the way I do, you all want to know more about the young woman, right? Her nickname was Amy, and she was nice in a drunken sort of way. She was very flirtatious with me, though Sora told me that she's like that with everyone. Just so you understand what I mean by "flirtatious," I mean that she talked directly to me, even touching my arm or knee from time to time. Sora also told me that everyone was jealous that I just sort of showed up and monopolized her like that. Very early into her explanation I laughed, and Sora asked why. I said, "Do you know what it means that she's acting like this?" "No," was her reply. Jason and I then said in unison, "Absolutely nothing," and laughed like loons.
After singing "Happy Birthday", we went to a Norae Bang (singing room, pronounced "no-ray-bahng"). Seems like it would have been a good idea to save the birthday singing for here, but no one asked me. Anyway, at the norae bang, there was beer and fruit (a favorite combination here), and lots of singing and silly behavior. Amy sat nowhere near me and practically ignored me. I've been in Korea long enough to not be surprised by that. Jason and I got up in front of everyone and sang "We are the Champions." Big fun. But some of Sora's coworkers were starting to get to the point where they were having trouble holding their alcohol. Yes, some was dropped on the floor, but that's not what I meant. One guy kept hitting on Jason, which always puts him in a bad mood. When the guy actually touched Jason's . . . private area, we decided it was time to go.
In direct contrast, this past Saturday I had some students come to my home. It was partly a gesture of friendship, partly the urge to do something different, and partly self-motivation to clean my house. It worked, to some extent. It was a unique event in that it was an evening, weekend meeting at which no one drank any alcoholic beverages. I'm sure that some of you are thinking, "So, what's the big deal?" Trust me. With a group of twenty-somethings, getting together almost always means drinking. Instead, we ate some food, drank some juice, and talked. We shared our past screwed-up love stories (everybody's got one). It was really interesting to hear some of the reasons they break up. They have an interesting combination of traditional Eastern and Western values. Unlike previous generations, they believe that love is important. Some of them think it is *most* important. But class still figures in
I met four of them in Nampodong, the "downtown" of Pusan, with the highest concentration of movie theaters, restaurants, bars, stores, hotels, fish markets, and weird people. We saw the movie "Cube." About half of them liked it, the other half were annoyed with it. I was annoyed at first, but then decided that I wasn't being fair. What I was really feeling was the need for the movie to continue, when continuing would have been a mistake. It was a bit disgusting in a couple of places, perhaps excessively so, but it seemed necessary to give the feeling that the director wanted.
The six students who ended up at my house were actually my students in October. The class was one of my all time favorites, even though we only had 3/4 of the usual amount of class time. I was only working a 6 hour schedule (six teaching hours per day), but I had to miss five of the 20 teaching days because of a minor trip to America. I was really in the mood for some barbecue, and my brother was getting married. So I started my stopwatch and left my home at about 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday, October 20. Twenty-six hours later I had no idea what time it was, was only slightly more sure of the day, and having incoherent conversation with my parents. I tell you, no matter how many times I come home from overseas, I will never get over the leap my heart makes when I see them waiting for me.
I spent the next afternoon and evening with Chris and Allison. Chris and I finished it off with a late night tailgate chat that was exactly the sort of thing you should avoid if you want to minimize jet lag. I'm pretty good at this when I make the effort, but this time I decided it wasn't worth it. Four days and four nights is enough time to get mostly over jet lag, which means adjusted to the time zone you're in. Which means that you've got another set of jet lag upon return to your origin. So I didn't even try. As a result, my four days and five nights in America felt like a bizarre blend of time, something between 36 hours and a month and a half. The return trip was even longer, as my arrival in Seoul was after the last flight for Pusan. I had to work the next day, so I took the night train. I got home at about 3:30 a.m., with nothing to do until my class at 8:00. So I unpacked, ate some food, and went to the public bath near my home. In the next three days I taught classes, made student evaluations, and tried to go on as though nothing had happened.
I was a week and a half getting over the worst double jet lag I hope to ever have. But it was worth it. I had personal contact with most of my family, and a fair amount of contact with friends. Not enough time, not by a long shot, but I made the most of it.
Still, all in all October was a relaxing follow-up to July, August and September. My apologies to any fans of these months, but they weren't pleasant for me this year. As you may recall, my parents visited me here in June. It was my first time to have a place of my own that my parents visited. It was, of course, hell. But much more pleasant than I expected hell to be. But I covered that in some previous letter, I'm sure, so back to the more immediate past.
In July, I took on an 8 hour schedule, partly to make up for lost time and money, partly to pick up some slack at the office. July and August are busy months at ELS, and although June isn't, with one teacher gone it is. So I wanted to make things a bit easier on the other teachers. It was also my turn to teach the middle school students for four hours on Saturdays. I was working 34 teaching hour weeks, but I had just come off of a (for lack of a better word) vacation, so I was ready for it. Oh, by the way, my classes were all level one. Low levels. My English was becomed more and more worser. I also teached middle school students in the Saturday. They not so much good. Verbs wrong using.
Shudder. Yikes. Fortunately, I gotted over it.
In August, I cut back to 7 hours, and volunteered to share the Saturday classes with another teacher. I had a mix of levels, and I still had a pretty good energy reserve. I also had one of the most interesting classes of my ELS career: the "Tank and Bon-Bon class." Tank is a guy whose nick-name comes from his soccer playing ability, and Bon-Bon is his girl-friend who puts the cutest little pauses and head-tilts in her speech. Fun people. Tank's sense of humor is sarcastic and very dry, and Bon-Bon is the Gracie to his George. They changed class times the following month, and so they were with me again.
In September my teaching prowess with the middle-schoolers was acknowledged and duly rewarded. In other words, they made me teach all the Saturdays in September. Along with another 7 hour schedule, making for 39 hours a week. Again. This is when I started to run out of energy. By the end of September, I was ready for a break.
October and November were six-hour schedules, very nice. Now December's schedule has started, and I am again teaching eight hours. Being most senior at ELS, I have the best schedule with the fewest breaks. I start at 7:00 a.m., finish at 10:00 p.m., and have off from noon to six. I can't complain, as four of the teachers have to teach at three in the afternoon. Yikes.
But the end is in sight. By the end of December, my contract will be finished. January 6, I am going back to Nepal! I will stay for three weeks. Not enough, I know, but I plan to be back working in February. Hopefully only part time. Details will be sent as they become available. Again, sorry about the long delay. I hope that this letter finds all of you in good health and happy spirits. Don't let Christmas get you down!
Peace,
Rob
Saturday, March 28, 1970
History Post
Of course, March 28th, 1970 is the day I was born. So I didn't actually write anything on this day. Plus there wasn't any internet on which to post. I apologize for any confusion.
And just in case you were wondering, Blogger won't let you post anything before 1970. Seems kind of arbitrary, but it does let me retro-blog my life, in case anyone wants to read about a young nerd.
And just in case you were wondering, Blogger won't let you post anything before 1970. Seems kind of arbitrary, but it does let me retro-blog my life, in case anyone wants to read about a young nerd.
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