“Woohahh?! No advanced class today?”
“Not until 3:50.”
“But no class?!?!”
“I do have the class, but it starts at 3:50.”

She looks at me as though I am very stupid and am purposely making her life difficult. She heaves a melodramatic sigh. I can almost see the thought bubble above her head: “Grin . . . bear it . . . do whatever you have to do to find-out a way to get this boyfriendless foreigner to understand my simple question.”

“What I am asking is, you do not teach advanced class today?”
“I do teach the class–at 3:50.”

She shakes her head–I get the feeling she still has no idea what we are talking about, but she has decided it is obviously not worth her valuable cotton-pickin’, flute-playin’ time to continue her line of questioning with someone who so clearly does not understand–and sits down at her desk, all the while keeping a nosy eye on me. I can’t wait to see what happens when I leave for class at 3:48.

UPDATE:
Class has been cancelled for the day. It’s 3:34 as I type . . . 16 minutes is really a lot of notice for Korea.

Knowing the school year is drawing to a close, I took my camera into this afternoon’s kindergarten classes in order to get some candid photos of the wee ones. I thought I was being sneaky, but . . .

Mauled

We are ending the year by studying Christmas–learning the names of various decorations, reading “The Night Before Christmas,” watching the original Grinch cartoon, etc. This girl is one of my favorite students:

She’s quite adept at English for her age–better, I must say, than some of my regular 5th and 6th graders–and always eager to say hello.

These two are smarties too–it’s always hard NOT to call on them to answer a question, because they seem to take it so personally.

Here everyone is watching the Grinch tie a branch onto his dog Max’s head to turn him into a reindeer.

When I’ve finished the first half-hour class, I pack up my things and dart next door for the second class. They’re wilder and less willing to listen (and more likely to bite) than the first class, but I have several little darlings there too:

No pictures of The Biter (I call him “Lonnie,” after Lon Chaney Jr.) since he’s spent the last two weeks in continuous time-out–no word on whether this is for his safety or mine.

A boy at the back of the classroom raised his hand to interrupt.
“Teacher–did you go with them?”

So hypothesized (incorrectly) one of my 5th grade students.  I am keeping a safe distance from Hongdae and all the expected Halloween drunken disorderliness; while hiding from the crowds, I’ve been working on the video of my school’s English skit contest.  (We came in “second.”  As it was explained to me, out of nine entries, there was one “winner” and no further differentiation.  So you either took home the gold or were SOL.)

You can see the video here.  It was cooler before YouTube notified me that the soundtrack originally playing over the opening credits qualified as copyright infringement.

the cast of "Ali Baba and the 4 Thieves"

Here be Thespians.

From left to right, back row, they are: Nate “Green”  as “Reconnaissance Thief;” Charles as “Servant” (and also our roadie;) Daniel as “Thieves’ Captain;” Chris as “Fashion Thief;” Johnny Appleseed as “Ali Baba;” and our Korean adviser, Buan.  Front row: Alice as “Laughing Thief,” Rosa as “Food Thief,” and Joanne as “Morgiana.”  Whatever the outcome of the competition may turn out to be, I’m very proud of the work the kids have done over the last few months.  Video coming as soon as I can format and upload it.

You know how 11-year-old boys are little wonders of perpetual motion?  And how all that running around keeps them well-heated?  One of my favorite kids, to whom I gave the English nickname “Johnny Appleseed” within my first few weeks here, showed up for class carrying an oversized sweatshirt and fanning himself.  I quickly approached him.

“Can you stand up for a minute?”  He did.  He’s a lot slighter but not too much shorter than me.  Arms of reasonably close to the same length.
“Is that your sweatshirt?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to wear it today?”
“No.  Today, I am too warm.”
“In that case . . . can I wear it?”

Now, I eschewed casual Friday this week and opted for a semi-sophisticated outfit; both the effect and the neutral color scheme were totally ruined by the addition of a bright red Super Mario hoodie.  Then Johnny suggested I zip the thing up for increased warmth, and I had to explain to him that I am a lot bigger around than he is, so it wouldn’t work.  The kids couldn’t stop laughing; their teacher walked up behind me and mistook me for a student, and it’s a pity I didn’t have an opportunity to get a photo . . . but I was warm and cozy all day.  I guess it’s time to start stashing a sweater somewhere in the classroom.

Bad day to wear this sweater (which I did without even thinking about the ramifications):

As I stood up to teach the hand motions that go with the song, several students burst into laughter, and I didn’t understand why until one rather advanced boy explained, “Color blue [pointing to the TV] and color blue [pointing to me]; color white and color white!”  After that the entire class got the giggles.  Re: my future wardrobe choices: a mental note has been made.

“To: Noëlle teacher…
Hi! … Just to say …
Thank you so much for thinking about me.  I really like the advanced English words you gave me . . . they seem really helpful.
I am so happy to be your student and get to be taught by you … Plus I ♥♥♥ English class having to study with you and always excited!
Thank You!”

All together now: “Awwww.”

It is possible to renew an unexpired US passport via the American Embassy in Seoul without ever having to physically go there.  You call a Korean courier service (only two are approved for this purpose) and have them pick up your application; at the same time, you arrange for the service to deliver your new passport once it’s ready.  Painless enough, except for one thing–you have to be able to speak Korean to contact the couriers, whether you talk to them on the phone or fill out a form on their websites.

Yesterday, I asked my co-teacher (whose job it is to help me with things like this) to call the courier on my behalf.  She said she would do it in the afternoon.  Then she disappeared until five minutes before quitting time.  So I asked her about it again this morning.  Her first question:
“Do you have application finish?  Show me.”

Now, I don’t really think it’s her business to see the particulars of my application, but I also don’t feel that my full name and e-mail address are things I need to hide.  So I showed her.  One of the things you have to send when applying for a new passport is (duh) your old passport.  She said,
“It is not safe.  I think maybe it is better and you should send copy only, keep passport in you bag.”
“I have to send the real one.”  (All my lines are in blue.)
“Really?  You call.  Ask.”
“No, I’m sure.  I have to send the real one.”
“But it is too dangerous.”
“Well, that’s why I have to use one of the two approved companies [that you still haven't called yet].  They know how to take care of things like this.”
“I think you will call and ask them.”
“I have to send the real passport.”
“Really?”
“I have to send the real passport.”

I’m one of those people who always gets annoyed when the stereotypical ugly American is trying to communicate with a non-English-speaker and thinks doing one of two things will magically make the person understand:
1) TALK REALLY LOUDLY!
2) repeat the same thing over, and over, and over, and over . . . I mean, if I told you “Ndiyo, mimi kusema Kiswahili” one time or fifty times, would it really make a difference?  I wouldn’t think so.  But after I’d said “real passport” so many times that the phrase was starting to lose all meaning, it was like a light bulb went on in my co-teacher’s head.  She very obligingly sat down to call the first courier company.  Were my troubles almost over?  Ha ha ha ha.

[after a few minutes] “That’s why it is almost holiday, so I think they are not answer and office is close.”  (Keep in mind that this is someone who is an English teacher by trade.)  “Maybe I can doing and look on the site.”  [opens a browser window]

[after a few more minutes] “I think they are not come to Haengshin District [where our school is] for the pick up.  So, it is better you should go to there [presumably meaning the embassy] next week.”
“Then I’ll need to make an appointment online.”
“Why?”
“I have to make an appointment to see someone.  I can’t just go there and give them my application.”
“Why?”
“They just changed the rules in June.”
“Why?  Very strange-ee.”
“I don’t know why.  Before I do that, though, did you try the second courier company?  Maybe they do pickups in a different area.”
“What?”
“I’ll send you the link to their website.”
“Did you send it yet?”
“I’m sending it now.”
“I did not received.”
“I just sent it.”
“But I asked you send me.”
“I just sent it.”

[looking at the second company's website] “What is embassy address?” [I give her a piece of paper with the address written on it.]
“There is no -dong [neighborhood] like Haengshin-dong.  And there is no phone.  Without phone number I can’t doing it online.  I think you should call this number [again, presumably the embassy's number?] and ask them.”
“I can get you the number. [quick online search]  I just sent it to you.”
“OK.  But there is no -dong like Haengshin-dong, can you understand?” [I double-check the embassy website.]
“They don’t list one in their address.  But . . . [quick online search] . . . it looks like it’s in Susong-dong.”
“OK.  I cannot doing it online without phone number.  I think next week you should call again after holiday.”
“I could make an appointment and go in person–that might be easier.”
“Did you calling them?”
“No, I make the appointment online.”
“Are you sure?  I think you should calling them.”
“I’ll just do it online.”
“Maybe you call, then they will telling you about the appointment.  Or send the mail to e-mail address to ask.”
“I’ve made an appointment online for next Thursday, the 15th at 2:00.  I should be able to go there after my last morning class and get back in time for my late afternoon class.”
“Do you teach an afternoon class on Thursday?”
“Yes.  It’s at 3:50.”
“What time?”
“3:50.”
“Do you know Toh-dahng Elementary School, in our city?  Next to that school is mail company’s office.  You can go there next week and say ‘예약 되요?’  Meaning is ‘Can I make a reservation?’  And maybe then they will come to our school and pick up you things.”  [We are, of course, back to the company that we already established doesn't make pickups in Haengshin-dong.]
“I don’t want to call them so late–my passport expires on the 20th, so hoping to get a pickup scheduled after the 15th is too close to the deadline.”
“So you will calling them?”
“I have an appointment to go to the embassy on Thursday.  And I may have to go back to pick up the passport when it’s done, since the couriers don’t deliver to Haengshin-dong.”
“OK.  I think that is working.”

GAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!  If it weren’t for the fact that I’m two hours away from a five-day holiday (during which, if a certain co-teacher calls, I may just put my phone through an industrial-grade mincer,) I think I’d have had a nervous breakdown by now . . .

Scene: the local E-Mart.
나는 얼음을 만들고싶어, 그리고 아주 아주 냉 냉장에 주세요.

“I want to make ice, and giving to the very very cold refrigerator.”
(What I wanted to say: “I want to buy an ice cube tray [for the freezer].”)