That was short lived.
On my way to class today, I asked the teacher who shares No Name Student's class with me if she knew what No Name's name was. Sally Teacher told me that No Name Student hadn't felt inclined to share her name, so she didn't really know. Suzy Student, a member of No Name Student's class, walked by at this time. Sally Teacher consulted with Suzy Student, who also had no idea what No Name's name was. Sally Teacher apologized and then walked off. Suzy Student explained to me that Sally Teacher had been calling No Name Student "No Name" as well. This was awesome, but not helpful.
As much as I felt that No Name Student had earned her moniker, every now and then I feel like a bit of an asshole openly mocking a 12 year old in front of other 12 year olds. It's like I remember the time that I became way to old for that shit, back when I was 15, and it stops being quite as much as fun. Then I remember how irritating I find said 12 year old, and do it anyways. It looked like another name of calling out No Name Student was in store.
At the beginning of most of my classes, I write all the tike's names on the board. I remind them that if they speak Korean without asking my permission first, they'll get a big scary check mark! Because check marks are scary. I can't believe that this works. Depending on the level of the class, they get between 1 and 3 chances. I don't forbid Korean in my classroom; I just don't want to hear it, unless it's being used to discuss the lesson. The more mature students don't require this, primarily because they are not 10 and can actually stay on topic with me. I suspect that they may still be afraid of check marks.
I usually write the names in alphabetic order, because I'm anal like that. Just this once, I wrote the names in order of seating, to give No Name Student a chance to redeem herself. It made me feel a bit queasy, not going alphabetically. Thankfully, this was not in vain. Just before writing "No Name Student" on the board, I looked at her and placed the marker on the board. "Teacher, Min Ju!", she yelled. I told her that I was happy to learn that she had a name.
And with that, No Name Student was no more.
Showing posts with label ESL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ESL. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Birth of No Name Student
Here is reason 37 why I don’t bother to prepare for my classes: After spending 10 minutes of my life preparing the lesson plan and accompanying game or activity, the odds of me arriving to class and finding faces that I’ve never seen before is about one in ten. The odds of somebody informing me prior to class that I might find new faces that day is precisely one in one hundred. Hence, after having spent ten minutes determining how much of the lesson we should cover that day, and how many copies of everything is needed for the activity, a huge chunk of class is spent initiating the new student. The 10 minutes of my life spent planning ahead for a lesson that we wouldn’t have time for, could have been used planning an activity that accounted for the new face. But, no. That would make way too much sense.
Last week I found yet another random face in one of my elementary level classes. I decided to start the ball rolling from the most obvious point: did this random face have a name? No. As it turns out, she did not. Every now and then I get a new student that refuses to speak to me. They speak English perfectly fine and they understand what I'm saying - they just see no reason to respond to basic questions like: What is your name? This is a problem. After two minutes of torture, trying to get the new student to stop giggling and provide me with her name, I resolved this the only way I knew how: I assigned her a name.
I don’t generally like to name my students. I would much rather learn their Korean name than assign them an English one. My efforts are usually undermined by one of the Korean teachers, who end up giving them an English name anyways. They often forget to inform me of this point, and I’ll spend another month horribly mispronouncing some kid’s name, until the class decides to let me in on the joke. If I do get stuck having to name a student, I have the class brainstorm some names on the board and have the student pick the one that they like best. Given the new student’s refusal to use her words to communicate with me, I was going to just have to pull a name out of a hat. I had two bits of information about this student to go on: she apparently had no name, evidenced by her refusal to provide me with one, and she giggled a lot. No Name seemed more descript and less creepy than Giggles, so No Name Student was born.
The other students thought that No Name Student was a hilarious moniker, and broke into fits of laughter every time I called on her. The rest of the class, with the exception of her cousin, clearly thought No Name Student was a moron. See, No Name Student knew perfectly well that I was asking her name, and she even understood when I specified that I’d like to know her real (Korean) name. Any doubt of this was removed when Loud Student asked to speak Korean so that he could clarify whether or not she was shy, or just an idiot. Given that she spent the rest of the week after this shouting Hello at me and giggling, when she’s about three years too old for this to still be acceptable behaviour, it’s clearly the latter case.
Any guilt or sense of shame felt over having named a 12 year old “No Name Student” has been eased by her continued asshattery throughout the week. Someday, she might get the memo that foreigners are only funny the first time that you meet them - after that, they almost become like Real People. Until then, her moniker of No Name Student sticks.
Last week I found yet another random face in one of my elementary level classes. I decided to start the ball rolling from the most obvious point: did this random face have a name? No. As it turns out, she did not. Every now and then I get a new student that refuses to speak to me. They speak English perfectly fine and they understand what I'm saying - they just see no reason to respond to basic questions like: What is your name? This is a problem. After two minutes of torture, trying to get the new student to stop giggling and provide me with her name, I resolved this the only way I knew how: I assigned her a name.
I don’t generally like to name my students. I would much rather learn their Korean name than assign them an English one. My efforts are usually undermined by one of the Korean teachers, who end up giving them an English name anyways. They often forget to inform me of this point, and I’ll spend another month horribly mispronouncing some kid’s name, until the class decides to let me in on the joke. If I do get stuck having to name a student, I have the class brainstorm some names on the board and have the student pick the one that they like best. Given the new student’s refusal to use her words to communicate with me, I was going to just have to pull a name out of a hat. I had two bits of information about this student to go on: she apparently had no name, evidenced by her refusal to provide me with one, and she giggled a lot. No Name seemed more descript and less creepy than Giggles, so No Name Student was born.
The other students thought that No Name Student was a hilarious moniker, and broke into fits of laughter every time I called on her. The rest of the class, with the exception of her cousin, clearly thought No Name Student was a moron. See, No Name Student knew perfectly well that I was asking her name, and she even understood when I specified that I’d like to know her real (Korean) name. Any doubt of this was removed when Loud Student asked to speak Korean so that he could clarify whether or not she was shy, or just an idiot. Given that she spent the rest of the week after this shouting Hello at me and giggling, when she’s about three years too old for this to still be acceptable behaviour, it’s clearly the latter case.
Any guilt or sense of shame felt over having named a 12 year old “No Name Student” has been eased by her continued asshattery throughout the week. Someday, she might get the memo that foreigners are only funny the first time that you meet them - after that, they almost become like Real People. Until then, her moniker of No Name Student sticks.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Some Bitches Start Young
Remember those little bitches that I ranted about a while back? Yes, the ones who are 5 and 7 years old. Or something like that. It was brought to my attention, privately, that I might be a bad person for labeling children as bitches. Whatever. I fail to see how my taking note of the fact that some people get an early start on a lifetime of super bitchdom, makes me a bad person. It’s not my fault that a lot of people who should never have children decide to pollute the gene pool with their spawn. My referring to these children as monster bitches puts a label on their behaviour; it doesn’t point the finger of blame at the children. It’s not The Princess Bitches fault that either their parents raised them poorly, or merely unleashed upon the world a potent a cocktail of their most unfortunate traits.
The Princess Bitches are most likely to exhibit human-like behaviour when forced to share their space with other children. When I started at Barbie Hagwon, neither of the girls caused me any problems. I knew Bitch, The Younger as the smallest student in the school, and I hardly even knew that Bitch, The Elder existed. They were that well behaved – when in separate classrooms. Only when they were placed in their own private class, together, did shit hit the fan. This month, The Boss Man placed the girls in the other class of the same level, and canceled their private session. I wish that I could say that The Boss Man spoke with The Bitches mother and that they came to the agreement that putting the girls in a mixed classroom was the best remedy to their intolerable brattery. In reality, there was probably a scheduling complication which made it impossible to fit their private class into everybody’s timetables. Whatever the reason, The Bitches have been far less of a problem this month.
Bitch, The Elder, is the root of the issue. Bitch, The Younger, is probably not even a year out of the bed wetting stage; that she spends upwards of 10 hours of her day in various institutions is appalling. She’s forgiven for her tendency to follow big sis wherever she takes her. As I learned recently, Bitch, The Elder, is not just rude to me and the other Korean teachers, she’s also rude to The Boss Man. Who’s rude to The Boss Man? I probably ought to rename them at this point, at the very least removing the plural from their moniker. The Younger has been an absolute gem this month. She hasn’t fallen asleep in class; she hasn’t pointed and laughed or refused to do her work. When surrounded by other, more positive influences, The Younger is just like any other student. Unfortunately, there has been no change in the behaviour of Bitch, The Elder.
It’s been a couple of months since I last bothered getting upset that nothing I do will result in Bitch, The Elder, acting like a respectable human being. I’ve more or less acceptable that some people are just bad at life. And that sometimes they start young. Some of the more precocious manage to make a statement at just 7. That’s just how it is. Pointing this out is not what makes me a bad person.
The Princess Bitches are most likely to exhibit human-like behaviour when forced to share their space with other children. When I started at Barbie Hagwon, neither of the girls caused me any problems. I knew Bitch, The Younger as the smallest student in the school, and I hardly even knew that Bitch, The Elder existed. They were that well behaved – when in separate classrooms. Only when they were placed in their own private class, together, did shit hit the fan. This month, The Boss Man placed the girls in the other class of the same level, and canceled their private session. I wish that I could say that The Boss Man spoke with The Bitches mother and that they came to the agreement that putting the girls in a mixed classroom was the best remedy to their intolerable brattery. In reality, there was probably a scheduling complication which made it impossible to fit their private class into everybody’s timetables. Whatever the reason, The Bitches have been far less of a problem this month.
Bitch, The Elder, is the root of the issue. Bitch, The Younger, is probably not even a year out of the bed wetting stage; that she spends upwards of 10 hours of her day in various institutions is appalling. She’s forgiven for her tendency to follow big sis wherever she takes her. As I learned recently, Bitch, The Elder, is not just rude to me and the other Korean teachers, she’s also rude to The Boss Man. Who’s rude to The Boss Man? I probably ought to rename them at this point, at the very least removing the plural from their moniker. The Younger has been an absolute gem this month. She hasn’t fallen asleep in class; she hasn’t pointed and laughed or refused to do her work. When surrounded by other, more positive influences, The Younger is just like any other student. Unfortunately, there has been no change in the behaviour of Bitch, The Elder.
It’s been a couple of months since I last bothered getting upset that nothing I do will result in Bitch, The Elder, acting like a respectable human being. I’ve more or less acceptable that some people are just bad at life. And that sometimes they start young. Some of the more precocious manage to make a statement at just 7. That’s just how it is. Pointing this out is not what makes me a bad person.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Quite Possibly the Worst Student Nickname Ever
It is common for Korean students at hagwons to adopt English nicknames. There may be several really fantastic reasons for this, but so far I’ve uncovered just two. First of all, every single one of my Korean co teachers has told me that they adopt English nicknames so that the foreign teacher has an easier time learning the student’s names. I’ve always thought this was a terrible reason, as it discourages us from learning the student’s real names; while I don’t necessarily link names to identities, I do consider them important. It also effectively eliminates what would otherwise be an excellent chance to improve our Korean. Korean names are, to simplify, composed of Korean sounds. Being forced to verbalize them on a daily basis would improve both our accent and our ear for the language. It’s from this frustration that I’ve deduced a second reason for the adoption of English nicknames: English nicknames are composed of English sounds. Any venture that requires English students to practice English sounds is a worthy one. Even if it results in unintentional hilarity that really ought to be embarrassing for everybody involved.
It’s not uncommon for the students, or their Korean English Teacher, to select an English nickname that nobody in the English speaking world would ever assign to a human being. For example, just the other day one of my students stopped short of begging me to switch his nickname from “Howard” to “Genesis”. I looked at him quizzically and asked, “The beginning of what, exactly?” Howard Student looked confused. After explaining to him what his desired name meant, he agreed that this was less than awesome. As further illustration, one of my students has been assigned the name Gate. Apparently his mother insisted that he be named after Bill Gates and somebody dropped the ball on either naming him “Bill” or “Gates”. While even “Gates” would be adequately stupid to suffice a mention here, seriously: why drop the “s”? Now, instead of carrying the name of a millionaire dweeb, he’s represented by the word for a movable barrier which covers an opening. We may as well just rename him Hymen.
It’s also not unheard of for the students, or their Korean English teacher, to select an English nickname that nobody in the English speaking world would assign to another human being. That is to say, that they may select the name of an individual who happens to be infamous rather than famous. And this unfortunate hopefully-not-a-growing-trend brings us to what I intend to be a weekly supplement, but probably won’t on account of Total Laziness: Student Name of The Week. I informally polled a number of my friends, and while I should probably save the best for last, I simply can’t sleep another night knowing that I’m withholding this level of Absolute Awesome from the world. Of course, by "the world", I mean the 5 of you who actually read this far. So, without further adieu, I share with you the best English nickname ever; and by "best", I do mean worst: R. Kelly Student.
No, seriously.
R. Kelly Student.
Yeah, that R. Kelly.
Take a few moments to digest that, if need be. It really doesn’t get any better. There is absolutely no reasonable explanation for this. Somewhere along the line, somebody dropped the ball. Huge. And the end result is that some prepubescent kid in Korea has named himself after a suspected pedophile. Yes, R. Kelly was recently acquitted on all counts of diddling. That doesn’t make this okay.
Thankfully, R. Kelly Student is not one of my own. If he were, I would spend my days in class with him wondering if he had any idea that R. Kelly was suspected of diddling. It would dawn on me that perhaps the kid knew and thought he was pulling a hilarious prank. Or worse, he knew and felt that R. Kelly was a real man’s man; a role model, even. Here, I start to feel queasy. But it gets worse. Much worse. I realize eventually that it’s quite likely that neither the student nor his Korean Teachers have any idea that R. Kelly is a suspected diddler; that R. Kelly Student simply fell in love with the “music” of R. Kelly and decided to honour his idol. The idea that somebody might feel that moved by R. Kelly’s “musical works” might actually be more upsetting than the possibility that we have a future diddler on our hands.
When I get to about this point in this line of thought, I start to convulse and try to forget that this ever happened.
But it did.
It’s not uncommon for the students, or their Korean English Teacher, to select an English nickname that nobody in the English speaking world would ever assign to a human being. For example, just the other day one of my students stopped short of begging me to switch his nickname from “Howard” to “Genesis”. I looked at him quizzically and asked, “The beginning of what, exactly?” Howard Student looked confused. After explaining to him what his desired name meant, he agreed that this was less than awesome. As further illustration, one of my students has been assigned the name Gate. Apparently his mother insisted that he be named after Bill Gates and somebody dropped the ball on either naming him “Bill” or “Gates”. While even “Gates” would be adequately stupid to suffice a mention here, seriously: why drop the “s”? Now, instead of carrying the name of a millionaire dweeb, he’s represented by the word for a movable barrier which covers an opening. We may as well just rename him Hymen.
It’s also not unheard of for the students, or their Korean English teacher, to select an English nickname that nobody in the English speaking world would assign to another human being. That is to say, that they may select the name of an individual who happens to be infamous rather than famous. And this unfortunate hopefully-not-a-growing-trend brings us to what I intend to be a weekly supplement, but probably won’t on account of Total Laziness: Student Name of The Week. I informally polled a number of my friends, and while I should probably save the best for last, I simply can’t sleep another night knowing that I’m withholding this level of Absolute Awesome from the world. Of course, by "the world", I mean the 5 of you who actually read this far. So, without further adieu, I share with you the best English nickname ever; and by "best", I do mean worst: R. Kelly Student.
No, seriously.
R. Kelly Student.
Yeah, that R. Kelly.
Take a few moments to digest that, if need be. It really doesn’t get any better. There is absolutely no reasonable explanation for this. Somewhere along the line, somebody dropped the ball. Huge. And the end result is that some prepubescent kid in Korea has named himself after a suspected pedophile. Yes, R. Kelly was recently acquitted on all counts of diddling. That doesn’t make this okay.
Thankfully, R. Kelly Student is not one of my own. If he were, I would spend my days in class with him wondering if he had any idea that R. Kelly was suspected of diddling. It would dawn on me that perhaps the kid knew and thought he was pulling a hilarious prank. Or worse, he knew and felt that R. Kelly was a real man’s man; a role model, even. Here, I start to feel queasy. But it gets worse. Much worse. I realize eventually that it’s quite likely that neither the student nor his Korean Teachers have any idea that R. Kelly is a suspected diddler; that R. Kelly Student simply fell in love with the “music” of R. Kelly and decided to honour his idol. The idea that somebody might feel that moved by R. Kelly’s “musical works” might actually be more upsetting than the possibility that we have a future diddler on our hands.
When I get to about this point in this line of thought, I start to convulse and try to forget that this ever happened.
But it did.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Cane My Bottom, Please.
One of my co teachers stopped me in between classes last week to ask permission to ask me a question. Every now and then I like to respond to this silliness by telling him that he can’t, and it’s totally lost on him that I’m just kidding. After yanking his chain, I eventually field his questions because that’s what they pay me for. I tell him as much, and he fails to be as amused by me as I am. This particular teacher tends to ask lots of questions, which is fantastic. I spend many an hour at work in disbelief that I’m getting paid to do next to nothing; helping my coworkers teach English makes me feel like I actually have utility.
This is what they pay me for:
Tony Teacher: Rebecca, can I ask question of you? What is ‘cane bottoms’?
Barbie Teacher: Errrr?
Tony Teacher: Cane bottoms.
Barbie Teacher: Come again?
Tony Teacher: Cane bottoms!
Either because I’m slow or because I’m still not accustomed to deciphering the awkward language that litters our hagwon’s texts, I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was going on about.
Barbie Teacher: You mean… the bottom of a cane? *makes gesture as if holding a cane*
Yes, I actually responded like that. To be fair, his English is somewhat broken. It was entirely possible that he was speaking of the parts of a cane. That’s honestly the first place that my mind went on this one. I might be at least part idiot.
Tony Teacher: No, no, no. *makes a gesture as if to hit somebody in the ass with a stick* Cane bottoms!
Barbie Teacher: *horrified face, quickly wiped away by denial* Errr… can you show me the phrase in context?
I was at a loss as to 1) why he was asking me about caning and 2) why he was wording it as “cane bottoms”. More so, I was still hanging on to the hope that he was looking for a word for the bottom of a cane.
Tony Teacher: *opens his book to a lesson about rewards and punishments*
I realized at this point that I had no choice but to accept what most people would have deduced several minutes earlier: that “cane bottoms” was, in fact, being used to refer to the act of caning. Given that caning isn’t something that I’ve been exposed to in my lifetime, I prefer to think of my delayed understanding as naivety rather than stupidity.
I’m probably wrong.
This is what they pay me for:
Tony Teacher: Rebecca, can I ask question of you? What is ‘cane bottoms’?
Barbie Teacher: Errrr?
Tony Teacher: Cane bottoms.
Barbie Teacher: Come again?
Tony Teacher: Cane bottoms!
Either because I’m slow or because I’m still not accustomed to deciphering the awkward language that litters our hagwon’s texts, I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was going on about.
Barbie Teacher: You mean… the bottom of a cane? *makes gesture as if holding a cane*
Yes, I actually responded like that. To be fair, his English is somewhat broken. It was entirely possible that he was speaking of the parts of a cane. That’s honestly the first place that my mind went on this one. I might be at least part idiot.
Tony Teacher: No, no, no. *makes a gesture as if to hit somebody in the ass with a stick* Cane bottoms!
Barbie Teacher: *horrified face, quickly wiped away by denial* Errr… can you show me the phrase in context?
I was at a loss as to 1) why he was asking me about caning and 2) why he was wording it as “cane bottoms”. More so, I was still hanging on to the hope that he was looking for a word for the bottom of a cane.
Tony Teacher: *opens his book to a lesson about rewards and punishments*
I realized at this point that I had no choice but to accept what most people would have deduced several minutes earlier: that “cane bottoms” was, in fact, being used to refer to the act of caning. Given that caning isn’t something that I’ve been exposed to in my lifetime, I prefer to think of my delayed understanding as naivety rather than stupidity.
I’m probably wrong.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Bob Student is Trashy
My students regularly provide me with material via their unintentionally hilarious utterances. Broken English is expected; without it, they’d have no use for me here. I like to think that mocking my students for their broken English is below me; I also like to think that I have unshakable self belief. Denial, denial, denial. Should one of my older students make a seriously unfortunate English blunder, I refrain from smirking and make a point of explaining the difference between what they meant to say and what they actually said. Given my inability to have emotions without wearing them on my face, this is harder than it ought to be. When one of my younger students makes a grossly inappropriate blunder I simply correct them and hope for the best. There really isn’t good way to tell an 8 year old why they shouldn’t replace the “Tell” in the “Tell Me” song with “Finger”, is there? A truly horrifying two minutes of my life that was. Thankfully, Bob Student’s English blunder last week wasn’t quite that awkward.
While in Itaewon last weekend, I bought an inordinate amount of Real Gum; that is, mint flavoured American gum. Korean gum isn’t awful; it’s just not as minty as what I prefer to snap. My students went completely gaga last time I brought in Real Gum for them. Their excitement was soon quashed by sour faces upon tasting a mint much stronger than what they’re used to. They would wave their hands in front of their mouths and say “teacher, hot!” I would smile, nod, and agree. There are few things that I enjoy watching more than other people making foul faces in response to things that I give them, so I decided to share the Real Gum love and pass some around in one of my evening classes. After humouring them throughout their chorus of, “ooh, teacher! So hot!” I tried to proceed with the lesson plan. Failure ensued.
As I was beginning to discuss the objectives for that day’s lesson, Bob Student decided that it would be a good time for him to speak. He was wrong. My response to this is usually to make a face at him then put a check mark beside his name on the board and threaten to remove him from class if he doesn’t learn how to be quiet when I’m speaking. Barbie Teacher hates to repeat herself! Sometimes I’m too tired to go through all the motions and resort to blowing a whistle at him instead. I returned from lunch break one day a few weeks back with the best 20 cent purchase of my life: a beautiful, blue whistle. My coworkers were extremely confused when I ran into the staff room to blow it at them; they had thus far failed to notice that my immaturity is off the charts. Blowing the whistle more or less has the same effect as putting a check beside their name, but is significantly more amusing for me. On this day I opted for the face-and-check method, largely because I was too lazy to sift through my purse for my whistle.
Before I could properly scold him for interrupting me, Bob Student waved his hand at me to indicate that he had garbage to dispose of. In other words, I had provided the entire class with gum and then went to scold one of them when they wished to get rid of their garbage in an orderly fashion. This never happens. Bob Student should have received a reward for the most unlikely behaviour by a Barbie Student. Ever. The children generally take whatever candy I give them, immediately pop it in their mouths and then throw their wrapper on the desk or the floor behind them. Manners; they’re a lost art.
Bob Student looked at me innocuously with his ball of gum wrapper and said, “Teacher, I’m trashy”. Double take. “Bob Student, you’re what?” “Teacher, I’m trashy”, he repeated, waving his garbage. I was tempted to have fun with this like I did with the Short Bus conversation from last week, but for once, professionalism won out. I spent the next 30 seconds explaining the correct way to ask me where the garbage is, and another 5 after that explaining why Bob Student shouldn’t run around in circles telling people that he’s trashy. If it’s true, they’ll already know.
While in Itaewon last weekend, I bought an inordinate amount of Real Gum; that is, mint flavoured American gum. Korean gum isn’t awful; it’s just not as minty as what I prefer to snap. My students went completely gaga last time I brought in Real Gum for them. Their excitement was soon quashed by sour faces upon tasting a mint much stronger than what they’re used to. They would wave their hands in front of their mouths and say “teacher, hot!” I would smile, nod, and agree. There are few things that I enjoy watching more than other people making foul faces in response to things that I give them, so I decided to share the Real Gum love and pass some around in one of my evening classes. After humouring them throughout their chorus of, “ooh, teacher! So hot!” I tried to proceed with the lesson plan. Failure ensued.
As I was beginning to discuss the objectives for that day’s lesson, Bob Student decided that it would be a good time for him to speak. He was wrong. My response to this is usually to make a face at him then put a check mark beside his name on the board and threaten to remove him from class if he doesn’t learn how to be quiet when I’m speaking. Barbie Teacher hates to repeat herself! Sometimes I’m too tired to go through all the motions and resort to blowing a whistle at him instead. I returned from lunch break one day a few weeks back with the best 20 cent purchase of my life: a beautiful, blue whistle. My coworkers were extremely confused when I ran into the staff room to blow it at them; they had thus far failed to notice that my immaturity is off the charts. Blowing the whistle more or less has the same effect as putting a check beside their name, but is significantly more amusing for me. On this day I opted for the face-and-check method, largely because I was too lazy to sift through my purse for my whistle.
Before I could properly scold him for interrupting me, Bob Student waved his hand at me to indicate that he had garbage to dispose of. In other words, I had provided the entire class with gum and then went to scold one of them when they wished to get rid of their garbage in an orderly fashion. This never happens. Bob Student should have received a reward for the most unlikely behaviour by a Barbie Student. Ever. The children generally take whatever candy I give them, immediately pop it in their mouths and then throw their wrapper on the desk or the floor behind them. Manners; they’re a lost art.
Bob Student looked at me innocuously with his ball of gum wrapper and said, “Teacher, I’m trashy”. Double take. “Bob Student, you’re what?” “Teacher, I’m trashy”, he repeated, waving his garbage. I was tempted to have fun with this like I did with the Short Bus conversation from last week, but for once, professionalism won out. I spent the next 30 seconds explaining the correct way to ask me where the garbage is, and another 5 after that explaining why Bob Student shouldn’t run around in circles telling people that he’s trashy. If it’s true, they’ll already know.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Barbie Teacher and the Short Bus Chronicles
You really shouldn’t need a reason to be happy. And if you insist on being sad, there really ought to be a damn good reason for it. My own default is such that it’s painfully easy to wallow in self pity; it’s a lot harder to put on my happy hat and sing a happy tune. The truth is I used to be completely unable to do so. Reality, should we chose to accept it, changes everything. Knowing that the world has lost somebody who never needed a reason to smile or put others before him makes me want to be more like my friend; I’ll never do it quite as well as he did, but a little bit of effort goes a long way. Or so I keep telling myself. In my last week I may have swallowed bottle after bottle in search of the end to my own insecurities, and I’m probably going to follow this up with more of the same. Yet, rather than write about my struggle towards self love, I’m going to ramble about something amusing that happened in class a while back, if for no other reason than the hope that it might make somebody else smile.
Tuesdays and Thursday end with one of my most advanced classes. Given that my most advanced class can almost have conversations with me, this isn't exactly saying a whole lot. That being said, from time to time I have rather enjoyable banters with these students. The load of suck is that I have to stay an extra hour to do it. I regularly debate whether or not this is worth it, with mixed results. On this particular Thursday, Rhea Student decided to be cute and show up 20 minutes late. I love it when they do that. In the same way that I love Fran Drescher’s laugh. Or rough anal sex. In other words, call me a prude, but I’d really rather that they not show up at all at that point. In spite of my annoyance, as it turns out, the ridiculous banter that was about to hand wrapped for me could not have happened had Rhea Student not stumbled in late.
Rhea Student has a penchant for punctuality, so her tardiness drew the attention of Kevin Student. After allowing 30 seconds of what sounded like light hearted Korean mockery, Rhea Student threw her book at Kevin Student. Confused, I asked Kevin Student what he had just told her. He calmly explains to me that Rhea Student was late because she “took the short bus to school”. Rhea Student promptly throws another book at him. At this juncture I had two options: I could either tell Kevin Student that he’s not being nice and to cut it out, or I could play dumb and ask what this whole “short bus” deal was all about. Consummate professional that I am, I chose the latter. Frankly, I was so surprised to hear that “short bus” as a euphemism for retard might translate similarly to Korean, that the former option didn’t even cross my mind. I had to get to the bottom of this. The result was more or less as follows:
Barbie Teacher: Kevin Student, what does “short bus” mean?
Kevin Student: *naïve face* Rhea took a taxi to school! Short bus is taxi!
Rhea Student: *throws pencil at Kevin Student* No! NO! That’s not what it means!
Barbie Teacher: *innocent face* Is it a bad thing? Is he insulting you?
Kevin Student: No! Taxi man!
Rhea Student: Yes! *looks sad that she has run out of items to throw*
Barbie Teacher: Well, how is it an insult? What does it mean?
Kevin Teacher: No, not an isult! *smirk* *insert three minute conversation, complete with illustrations, about how some busses just happen to be shorter than others*
Rhea Student: Teacher! He lies! He's calling me... like stupid!
Barbie Teacher: *chortling* Kevin Student, tell Rhea you’re sorry.
Kevin Student: Rhea Student… I’m sorry that you rode the short bus.
Rhea Student: *pouty face*
In other words, 5 minutes of awesome later and neither of them definitively confirmed my assumption that “short bus” serves a similar purpose in Korean as it does English. Later, I naively asked my boss what “short bus” meant. For a split second he appeared to be thoroughly embarrassed for me, before concealing his pity with a puzzled look and shrug of the shoulders. Either way, I walked away happy.
Tuesdays and Thursday end with one of my most advanced classes. Given that my most advanced class can almost have conversations with me, this isn't exactly saying a whole lot. That being said, from time to time I have rather enjoyable banters with these students. The load of suck is that I have to stay an extra hour to do it. I regularly debate whether or not this is worth it, with mixed results. On this particular Thursday, Rhea Student decided to be cute and show up 20 minutes late. I love it when they do that. In the same way that I love Fran Drescher’s laugh. Or rough anal sex. In other words, call me a prude, but I’d really rather that they not show up at all at that point. In spite of my annoyance, as it turns out, the ridiculous banter that was about to hand wrapped for me could not have happened had Rhea Student not stumbled in late.
Rhea Student has a penchant for punctuality, so her tardiness drew the attention of Kevin Student. After allowing 30 seconds of what sounded like light hearted Korean mockery, Rhea Student threw her book at Kevin Student. Confused, I asked Kevin Student what he had just told her. He calmly explains to me that Rhea Student was late because she “took the short bus to school”. Rhea Student promptly throws another book at him. At this juncture I had two options: I could either tell Kevin Student that he’s not being nice and to cut it out, or I could play dumb and ask what this whole “short bus” deal was all about. Consummate professional that I am, I chose the latter. Frankly, I was so surprised to hear that “short bus” as a euphemism for retard might translate similarly to Korean, that the former option didn’t even cross my mind. I had to get to the bottom of this. The result was more or less as follows:
Barbie Teacher: Kevin Student, what does “short bus” mean?
Kevin Student: *naïve face* Rhea took a taxi to school! Short bus is taxi!
Rhea Student: *throws pencil at Kevin Student* No! NO! That’s not what it means!
Barbie Teacher: *innocent face* Is it a bad thing? Is he insulting you?
Kevin Student: No! Taxi man!
Rhea Student: Yes! *looks sad that she has run out of items to throw*
Barbie Teacher: Well, how is it an insult? What does it mean?
Kevin Teacher: No, not an isult! *smirk* *insert three minute conversation, complete with illustrations, about how some busses just happen to be shorter than others*
Rhea Student: Teacher! He lies! He's calling me... like stupid!
Barbie Teacher: *chortling* Kevin Student, tell Rhea you’re sorry.
Kevin Student: Rhea Student… I’m sorry that you rode the short bus.
Rhea Student: *pouty face*
In other words, 5 minutes of awesome later and neither of them definitively confirmed my assumption that “short bus” serves a similar purpose in Korean as it does English. Later, I naively asked my boss what “short bus” meant. For a split second he appeared to be thoroughly embarrassed for me, before concealing his pity with a puzzled look and shrug of the shoulders. Either way, I walked away happy.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Barbie Teacher is Monkey!
I am a fairly compensated Talking Monkey. Even my students think so.
I’ll be the first to admit that my job entails very little in the way of skill. If my occasional peak at message boards frequented by other English teachers in Korea is anything to go by, one doesn’t even need a working knowledge of the English language. The check list of qualifications required to teach English at your typical hagwon in Korea is looks something like this:
1 - Are you from Korea? No? Fantastic.
2 - Are you whiter than white? No? Look into purchasing some whitening cream and you’re temporarily forgiven. Good news! In Korea, there is whitening cream in everything, from your facial moisturizer to the dye in your clothing.
3 - Can you speak something that at least sounds somewhat like English? Oui? Fabulous!
4 - Do you have a university degree, or at least a shiny piece of paper that kind of looks like it could be? Yes? Super!
5 - Do you have any interest in teaching? Not particularly, but you’re awfully fond of money? Sold!
Higher paying jobs and those which offer more vacation time tend to be a little pickier than your typical hagwon. They may actually be interested in knowing that you can spell, too. I’ve heard of some institutes that are interested in learning whether or not you’re a qualified educator, but they’re few and far between. The reality for most foreigners teaching English in Korea is that we really are Talking Monkeys. Our job is to provide a foreign presence. If one decides to go above and beyond that and actually take their role as an educator seriously, that’s fantastic. If one thinks that this is lame and would rather stumble into their 8am classes only two hours removed from a serious drinking binge, the sad reality is that they’re probably not going to get fired. As long as they show up on time, they may not even get criticized.
I know my place here. I know that while I chose to arrive at the hagwon half an hour before class, to not drink during the week, and to prepare each lesson, that the vast majority of the time my efforts will go unnoticed. I don’t take my job seriously because I’m vainly searching for praise; I do it because I wouldn’t respect myself otherwise.
Each Wednesday, I begin the day with eight screaming six year olds. They’re just darling. It’s an introductory class, so I spend a good deal of time miming as I speak. The Talking Monkey becomes the Dancing Monkey. It’s a good deal of fun, so I don’t really mind.
On this particular Wednesday, the children weren’t too keen on listening. The activity that we were working through required them to repeat what I said, and nothing more. They so weren’t feeling it, and blabbered at one another in Korean. Dancing Monkey time! I ordered the class to be quiet, and announced that it was time to listen, while grabbing at my ear. Body language excellence! Belle Student either misunderstood my message, or hates me a whole lot. Seeing me grab at my ear resulted in her breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. The giggling subsided shortly after, because breathing is important. After taking a moment to get some air, she grabbed both of her ears, screwed up her face and said: “Teacher Monkey! Ooo! Woo!” For her efforts, Belle Student won herself a free date in the hallway with Captain Nobody.
While Belle Student wasn’t exactly incorrect in her mockery, Barbie Teacher really doesn’t need six year olds to put her in her place. Even though I found Belle Student’s mockery of my actions rather amusing, I had to put on an Angry Face and feign indignation.
I’ll be the first to admit that my job entails very little in the way of skill. If my occasional peak at message boards frequented by other English teachers in Korea is anything to go by, one doesn’t even need a working knowledge of the English language. The check list of qualifications required to teach English at your typical hagwon in Korea is looks something like this:
1 - Are you from Korea? No? Fantastic.
2 - Are you whiter than white? No? Look into purchasing some whitening cream and you’re temporarily forgiven. Good news! In Korea, there is whitening cream in everything, from your facial moisturizer to the dye in your clothing.
3 - Can you speak something that at least sounds somewhat like English? Oui? Fabulous!
4 - Do you have a university degree, or at least a shiny piece of paper that kind of looks like it could be? Yes? Super!
5 - Do you have any interest in teaching? Not particularly, but you’re awfully fond of money? Sold!
Higher paying jobs and those which offer more vacation time tend to be a little pickier than your typical hagwon. They may actually be interested in knowing that you can spell, too. I’ve heard of some institutes that are interested in learning whether or not you’re a qualified educator, but they’re few and far between. The reality for most foreigners teaching English in Korea is that we really are Talking Monkeys. Our job is to provide a foreign presence. If one decides to go above and beyond that and actually take their role as an educator seriously, that’s fantastic. If one thinks that this is lame and would rather stumble into their 8am classes only two hours removed from a serious drinking binge, the sad reality is that they’re probably not going to get fired. As long as they show up on time, they may not even get criticized.
I know my place here. I know that while I chose to arrive at the hagwon half an hour before class, to not drink during the week, and to prepare each lesson, that the vast majority of the time my efforts will go unnoticed. I don’t take my job seriously because I’m vainly searching for praise; I do it because I wouldn’t respect myself otherwise.
Each Wednesday, I begin the day with eight screaming six year olds. They’re just darling. It’s an introductory class, so I spend a good deal of time miming as I speak. The Talking Monkey becomes the Dancing Monkey. It’s a good deal of fun, so I don’t really mind.
On this particular Wednesday, the children weren’t too keen on listening. The activity that we were working through required them to repeat what I said, and nothing more. They so weren’t feeling it, and blabbered at one another in Korean. Dancing Monkey time! I ordered the class to be quiet, and announced that it was time to listen, while grabbing at my ear. Body language excellence! Belle Student either misunderstood my message, or hates me a whole lot. Seeing me grab at my ear resulted in her breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. The giggling subsided shortly after, because breathing is important. After taking a moment to get some air, she grabbed both of her ears, screwed up her face and said: “Teacher Monkey! Ooo! Woo!” For her efforts, Belle Student won herself a free date in the hallway with Captain Nobody.
While Belle Student wasn’t exactly incorrect in her mockery, Barbie Teacher really doesn’t need six year olds to put her in her place. Even though I found Belle Student’s mockery of my actions rather amusing, I had to put on an Angry Face and feign indignation.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Chase Student and The Assembly of Brats
In the midst of an otherwise breezy Friday schedule awaits The Assembly of Brats. These seven poorly disciplined, overactive seven year olds with a penchant for mischief are inexplicably charming. On the worst of days, they’re almost likable. Each class begins with an epic, one sided battle of hide-and-seek; they hide, nobody cares enough to go find them. Eventually short attention spans signal boredom, and the lesson begins five minutes later than scheduled. Should the teacher need to exit the classroom at any point, an impromptu game of hide-and-go-seek is sure to follow.
What is generally a routine day at the office with The Assembly of Brats has been known to turn ugly on those rare occasions that Barbie Teacher is experiencing the unpleasantries of dysmenorrhea. On this particular Friday, Andy Student and Tony Student thought that it would be cute to giggle uncontrollably after Barbie Teacher returned from her brief date with the photocopier. They were wrong. While Barbie Teacher was perfectly aware that The Brat Pack had chased closely behind and kept detailed surveillance of her date, she preferred to ignore this fact of Hagwon Life and get on with the lesson. This incessant giggling interfered with her plans immensely.
Neither Andy Student nor Tony Student was interested in discussing their shenanigans with Barbie Teacher. Instead, they preferred to continue giggling. Barbie Teacher was grossly unimpressed. This meant that she had to pretend to care what it was they had done wrong by inviting them to a lecture in the hallway. Neither Andy Student nor Tony Student gave a lick what Barbie Teacher had to say. Fortunately for Barbie Teacher, Oldest Male Korean Teacher (OMKT) happened to be in the hallway scolding Chase Student. Its one thing to disrespect Barbie Teacher; she’s a silly foreigner who has been designed specifically for the student body’s amusement. OMKT actually has a place in Korean society which garners a certain degree of respect, if not fear from The Munchkins. After abruptly finishing with Chase Student, OMKY barked about 5 words at Andy Student and Tony Student before returning to his own classroom.
The previously mum Andy Student and Tony Student suddenly felt inspired to stop giggling like school children and respond to Barbie Teacher like adults. Chase Student, who had apparently been instructed to remain in the hallway with his hands in Kidstreet Overhead Clapping position, had no choice but to eavesdrop on the lecture. Tony Student, who struggles to string together sentences in English, nominated Andy Student to do the talking. Barbie Teacher, who was quite bored at this point, hoped that they stop hemming and hawing soon. She was quickly running out of the patience required to keep up this inane charade of Actually Giving a Damn.
When Andy Student finally began with, “Teacher, we was …” Chase Student saw his opening. Chase Student cleared his throat loudly enough that the Party of Three turned in unison to look his way. With all eyes on him, he declared: “We were! We were! We were!” Andy Student, clearly startled to discover that Chase Student is such a grammar stickler, corrected himself and continued with his boring explanation of how he and Tony Student thought it was hilarious that they followed Barbie Teacher to her photocopying date, but golly, they were really sorry! Barbie Teacher, holding back a yawn and the door to the classroom, advised them to return to their seats without a peep. Following closely behind, Barbie Teacher cast a glance over her shoulder to Chase Student, who hadn’t budged from his Kidstreet Overhead Clapping pose. “Thank you, Chase Student”.
While The Assembly of Brats would continue their shenanigans in the future, Barbie Teacher found consolation in having learned that Chase Student is a pedantic smart ass.
What is generally a routine day at the office with The Assembly of Brats has been known to turn ugly on those rare occasions that Barbie Teacher is experiencing the unpleasantries of dysmenorrhea. On this particular Friday, Andy Student and Tony Student thought that it would be cute to giggle uncontrollably after Barbie Teacher returned from her brief date with the photocopier. They were wrong. While Barbie Teacher was perfectly aware that The Brat Pack had chased closely behind and kept detailed surveillance of her date, she preferred to ignore this fact of Hagwon Life and get on with the lesson. This incessant giggling interfered with her plans immensely.
Neither Andy Student nor Tony Student was interested in discussing their shenanigans with Barbie Teacher. Instead, they preferred to continue giggling. Barbie Teacher was grossly unimpressed. This meant that she had to pretend to care what it was they had done wrong by inviting them to a lecture in the hallway. Neither Andy Student nor Tony Student gave a lick what Barbie Teacher had to say. Fortunately for Barbie Teacher, Oldest Male Korean Teacher (OMKT) happened to be in the hallway scolding Chase Student. Its one thing to disrespect Barbie Teacher; she’s a silly foreigner who has been designed specifically for the student body’s amusement. OMKT actually has a place in Korean society which garners a certain degree of respect, if not fear from The Munchkins. After abruptly finishing with Chase Student, OMKY barked about 5 words at Andy Student and Tony Student before returning to his own classroom.
The previously mum Andy Student and Tony Student suddenly felt inspired to stop giggling like school children and respond to Barbie Teacher like adults. Chase Student, who had apparently been instructed to remain in the hallway with his hands in Kidstreet Overhead Clapping position, had no choice but to eavesdrop on the lecture. Tony Student, who struggles to string together sentences in English, nominated Andy Student to do the talking. Barbie Teacher, who was quite bored at this point, hoped that they stop hemming and hawing soon. She was quickly running out of the patience required to keep up this inane charade of Actually Giving a Damn.
When Andy Student finally began with, “Teacher, we was …” Chase Student saw his opening. Chase Student cleared his throat loudly enough that the Party of Three turned in unison to look his way. With all eyes on him, he declared: “We were! We were! We were!” Andy Student, clearly startled to discover that Chase Student is such a grammar stickler, corrected himself and continued with his boring explanation of how he and Tony Student thought it was hilarious that they followed Barbie Teacher to her photocopying date, but golly, they were really sorry! Barbie Teacher, holding back a yawn and the door to the classroom, advised them to return to their seats without a peep. Following closely behind, Barbie Teacher cast a glance over her shoulder to Chase Student, who hadn’t budged from his Kidstreet Overhead Clapping pose. “Thank you, Chase Student”.
While The Assembly of Brats would continue their shenanigans in the future, Barbie Teacher found consolation in having learned that Chase Student is a pedantic smart ass.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Chase Student Face Plants
At Barbie Hagwon last week, I needed some photocopies taken care of while I was in class with Chase Student and Friends (you may remember Chase Student from such special moments as: “Sometimes I create stupid nicknames for myself. Then, when people call me by said nicknames, I cry”). I like to nominate Chase Student to do anything that requires movement, whenever the opportunity arises. I’ve found that giving him the chance to expend some excess energy is really the only way that he’ll later be able to focus his attention on something (namely, me) for more than 30 seconds. As expected, Chase Student jumped at the chance to get off his ass. I advised him to be no longer than five minutes.
Ten minutes goes by.
Leo Student points out to me that Chase Student has been gone for a while. Given that I know how to keep track of time too, I had taken note of Chase Student’s tardiness five minutes earlier. I had been giving him the benefit of the doubt and wasn’t particularly concerned at that point. Ten minutes was pushing it, so I asked Leo Student to stick his head out the door and see if Chase Student had been eaten by wolves. Leo Student was very prompt in his search; less than a minute later he returns to inform me that Chase Student was very sad. Very, very sad! Just in case that didn't get the message across, Leo Student began wiping fake tears away from his cheeks. This warmed my heart (I like to think that he learned that from me).
After recovering from the awesomeness that was Leo Student parroting my condescending gesture, I was troubled to hear that Chase Student was having special problems. Then I remembered that last time Chase Student was very, very sad, it was because other people were calling him a stupid name that he had created for himself. Suspecting shenanigans, I excused myself from the class so that I could go clean up whatever mess it was that he had caused for himself.
I found Chase Student bawling in the main office. One of the other teachers and The Boss Man were attending to him. One look at the right side of Chase Student's face and it was clear why. Chase Student had apparently decided that scraping your knee isn’t particularly bad ass; face planting and scraping half of the skin off your cheek is clearly the more impressive battle scar.
I kid now, but I felt awful and largely responsible for Chase Student’s accident. If I hadn’t sent him to photocopy alone, he might not have fallen. I apologized profusely to my coworkers. In response, they assured me that this wasn’t my fault, not to worry, go back to class and they would patch him up. I returned to class not feeling even a bit relieved. Chase Student followed a few minutes later sporting a brand spanking new bandage and a serious case of the sniffles. The teacher who had helped patch him up followed shortly behind to inform me that Chase Student had completed the photocopying that I had asked him to do without any issue. Instead of coming back to class immediately afterwards as instructed, he decided to jump outside and run in circles with a friend of his. Somehow this led to him tripping over his own feet and landing splat on his face. “See? Not your fault”, my coworker advised me.
Chase Student’s face healed up quite nicely within the week, but he’s never again allowed to go photocopying alone. Next time, when he gets distracted by headlights and runs into traffic, he might not heal up quite as nicely. At that point, "See? Not your fault", really isn't going to cut it.
Ten minutes goes by.
Leo Student points out to me that Chase Student has been gone for a while. Given that I know how to keep track of time too, I had taken note of Chase Student’s tardiness five minutes earlier. I had been giving him the benefit of the doubt and wasn’t particularly concerned at that point. Ten minutes was pushing it, so I asked Leo Student to stick his head out the door and see if Chase Student had been eaten by wolves. Leo Student was very prompt in his search; less than a minute later he returns to inform me that Chase Student was very sad. Very, very sad! Just in case that didn't get the message across, Leo Student began wiping fake tears away from his cheeks. This warmed my heart (I like to think that he learned that from me).
After recovering from the awesomeness that was Leo Student parroting my condescending gesture, I was troubled to hear that Chase Student was having special problems. Then I remembered that last time Chase Student was very, very sad, it was because other people were calling him a stupid name that he had created for himself. Suspecting shenanigans, I excused myself from the class so that I could go clean up whatever mess it was that he had caused for himself.
I found Chase Student bawling in the main office. One of the other teachers and The Boss Man were attending to him. One look at the right side of Chase Student's face and it was clear why. Chase Student had apparently decided that scraping your knee isn’t particularly bad ass; face planting and scraping half of the skin off your cheek is clearly the more impressive battle scar.
I kid now, but I felt awful and largely responsible for Chase Student’s accident. If I hadn’t sent him to photocopy alone, he might not have fallen. I apologized profusely to my coworkers. In response, they assured me that this wasn’t my fault, not to worry, go back to class and they would patch him up. I returned to class not feeling even a bit relieved. Chase Student followed a few minutes later sporting a brand spanking new bandage and a serious case of the sniffles. The teacher who had helped patch him up followed shortly behind to inform me that Chase Student had completed the photocopying that I had asked him to do without any issue. Instead of coming back to class immediately afterwards as instructed, he decided to jump outside and run in circles with a friend of his. Somehow this led to him tripping over his own feet and landing splat on his face. “See? Not your fault”, my coworker advised me.
Chase Student’s face healed up quite nicely within the week, but he’s never again allowed to go photocopying alone. Next time, when he gets distracted by headlights and runs into traffic, he might not heal up quite as nicely. At that point, "See? Not your fault", really isn't going to cut it.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Barbie Teacher Makes Elephant Student Cry
Children.
Do they make sense to anybody but themselves? Do they even make sense to themselves? Do they actually differ from us so-called-grownups in this regard?
I have a student in one of my intermediate courses who almost certainly has undiagnosed ADHD. Despite being a massive pain in the ass, he’s actually one of my favourite students. Chase Student is smart as Hell and has never been directly rude to me; he just can’t sit still and STFU when his work is finished. Over the past few months I’ve developed strategies that help keep him busy, and thus quiet. Yet sometimes, in spite of my efforts, he still manages to get himself into trouble.
On Friday, Chase Student decided that it would be a fantastic idea to adorn his workbook with a ridiculous moniker; he proudly wrote “Chase(lephant)” on the cover at the beginning of class. As you might expect, the other students began referring to him as “Chase elephant”. After about 5 minutes of this atrociously inaccurate reading of what was clearly meant to be a one-word moniker, I advised the children that they were going about it all wrong! He hadn’t written “Chase elephant”; he had written “Chaselephant”! One word! Not two! This created a very slight, yet distinct change in pronunciation. It would have been irresponsible of Barbie Teacher not to teach this.
After enduring five minutes of the students stressing the correct syllables in “Chaselephant”, Chase Student started to get a little bit upset. He pouted. He refused to do his work when Barbie Teacher asked him to do so. Something had to be done! I took Chase Student’s book and calmly asked him to join me in the hallway. I advised the other children to work on their assignment and stop calling him “Chaselephant”. In the hallway, out of the eyes of the other children, Chase Student leaned against the wall and sobbed. “Teacher, I’m just so angry!”
I hate it when people cry. Especially children. Even children who are crying because other people are calling them by a moniker which only exists because they wrote it o their own workbook. This kid was actually expressing sorrow over the fact that a moniker, which he had created for himself and purposefully drawn attention to, had caught on. Who does that? I'm not even sure that "but Rebecca, he's 10!" passes as an an adequate explanation here. Regardless, as I'm still a human being with empathy and a job to do, I patted Chase Student on the back (because you’re totally allowed to do that in this country), promised him that I’d make sure the other children would cease calling him “Chaselephant”, and told him that he could have 5 minutes to go get some water and settle down.
Chase Student returned to class as chipper as can be, showing no signs of having broken down earlier. He promptly erased the “(lephant)” from his workbook, so that just “Chase” remained. Mercifully, the other children actually listened to Barbie Teacher and did not once utter “Chaselephant” for the rest of the period. This was perhaps in part because Barbie Teacher had warned them that the second somebody let the moniker slip, Game Time was over.
Chase Student, putting the S back in Special.
Barbie Teacher, the consummate professional.
Do they make sense to anybody but themselves? Do they even make sense to themselves? Do they actually differ from us so-called-grownups in this regard?
I have a student in one of my intermediate courses who almost certainly has undiagnosed ADHD. Despite being a massive pain in the ass, he’s actually one of my favourite students. Chase Student is smart as Hell and has never been directly rude to me; he just can’t sit still and STFU when his work is finished. Over the past few months I’ve developed strategies that help keep him busy, and thus quiet. Yet sometimes, in spite of my efforts, he still manages to get himself into trouble.
On Friday, Chase Student decided that it would be a fantastic idea to adorn his workbook with a ridiculous moniker; he proudly wrote “Chase(lephant)” on the cover at the beginning of class. As you might expect, the other students began referring to him as “Chase elephant”. After about 5 minutes of this atrociously inaccurate reading of what was clearly meant to be a one-word moniker, I advised the children that they were going about it all wrong! He hadn’t written “Chase elephant”; he had written “Chaselephant”! One word! Not two! This created a very slight, yet distinct change in pronunciation. It would have been irresponsible of Barbie Teacher not to teach this.
After enduring five minutes of the students stressing the correct syllables in “Chaselephant”, Chase Student started to get a little bit upset. He pouted. He refused to do his work when Barbie Teacher asked him to do so. Something had to be done! I took Chase Student’s book and calmly asked him to join me in the hallway. I advised the other children to work on their assignment and stop calling him “Chaselephant”. In the hallway, out of the eyes of the other children, Chase Student leaned against the wall and sobbed. “Teacher, I’m just so angry!”
I hate it when people cry. Especially children. Even children who are crying because other people are calling them by a moniker which only exists because they wrote it o their own workbook. This kid was actually expressing sorrow over the fact that a moniker, which he had created for himself and purposefully drawn attention to, had caught on. Who does that? I'm not even sure that "but Rebecca, he's 10!" passes as an an adequate explanation here. Regardless, as I'm still a human being with empathy and a job to do, I patted Chase Student on the back (because you’re totally allowed to do that in this country), promised him that I’d make sure the other children would cease calling him “Chaselephant”, and told him that he could have 5 minutes to go get some water and settle down.
Chase Student returned to class as chipper as can be, showing no signs of having broken down earlier. He promptly erased the “(lephant)” from his workbook, so that just “Chase” remained. Mercifully, the other children actually listened to Barbie Teacher and did not once utter “Chaselephant” for the rest of the period. This was perhaps in part because Barbie Teacher had warned them that the second somebody let the moniker slip, Game Time was over.
Chase Student, putting the S back in Special.
Barbie Teacher, the consummate professional.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Barbie Teacher Brings the Lisp to Korea
Anybody who has ever taken the time to actually listen to the words that fly out of my mouth will have noticed that I have a slight lisp. This has always been the case. I received speech therapy for it when I was younger but, like most things with me (college majors, careers, men), it simply didn't stick. I can speak without a lisp, but this would be akin to you intentionally speaking with a lisp at all times. It would be forced. It's not natural, so I don't do it. I stopped having any interest in what I sounded like to other people quite some time ago. There is no known physiological excuse for my lisp. As far as I'm aware, I don't have an enlarged tongue or unfortunate jaw properties. This is just how I happen to roll. Barbie has a lisp, and unlike almost everything else in my life, the lisp sticks.
A few of my friends still get a kick out of hearing me say "physics" or "sixth", words which are like poison to me, but I expect my friends to mock my quirks. You haven't truly been initiated as a Friend of Barbie until you've spotted and mocked The Crazy. Some do this within 5 minutes of meeting me; others never quite make it.
One of my more darling friends brought it to my attention prior to departure for Korea that I was going to create a population of Koreans who speak English with a lisp. I advised them that I would do my best to bastardize the English language while in Korea.
I had more or less forgotten about all of this until today. As one of my obligations for an evening class I am required to go through an activity called "pronunciation clinic". This redundant, yet necessary activity entails that I ensure that the students can recognize the difference between similar sounds. Today we discussed "s" and "z". While my lisp doesn't prevent me from differentiating between "Sue" and "zoo", this activity did require my rhyming off a long list of S-words. I quickly recalled my conversation with friends from home and saw The Funny in this. It's really only a matter of time before I'm going to be sucked into discussing TH-words versus S-words. And that? Is going to be a whole lot of Funny.
All of this said, it's unlikely that my students are going to pick up my lisp-ery pronunciation of the English language. Even if they did, their accents are such that you wouldn't really notice anyways. Hence, my plan to infiltrate Korea with Canadian accents and lisps is half defeated; back to getting my students to use "eh".
A few of my friends still get a kick out of hearing me say "physics" or "sixth", words which are like poison to me, but I expect my friends to mock my quirks. You haven't truly been initiated as a Friend of Barbie until you've spotted and mocked The Crazy. Some do this within 5 minutes of meeting me; others never quite make it.
One of my more darling friends brought it to my attention prior to departure for Korea that I was going to create a population of Koreans who speak English with a lisp. I advised them that I would do my best to bastardize the English language while in Korea.
I had more or less forgotten about all of this until today. As one of my obligations for an evening class I am required to go through an activity called "pronunciation clinic". This redundant, yet necessary activity entails that I ensure that the students can recognize the difference between similar sounds. Today we discussed "s" and "z". While my lisp doesn't prevent me from differentiating between "Sue" and "zoo", this activity did require my rhyming off a long list of S-words. I quickly recalled my conversation with friends from home and saw The Funny in this. It's really only a matter of time before I'm going to be sucked into discussing TH-words versus S-words. And that? Is going to be a whole lot of Funny.
All of this said, it's unlikely that my students are going to pick up my lisp-ery pronunciation of the English language. Even if they did, their accents are such that you wouldn't really notice anyways. Hence, my plan to infiltrate Korea with Canadian accents and lisps is half defeated; back to getting my students to use "eh".
Monday, December 3, 2007
Barbie Teacher is Angry Teacher
I like my job. I don't have a real job. I've covered this, but I'll reiterate: I sit on my ass, try to look pretty, and talk sometimes. That said, I take it seriously. Some of the kids really like me. In turn, I really like some of my students. I learn a lot about Korea through them, and hope that I make them feel positively about Canadians in return. Yet, with the good comes the bad. Today I got to start my day off with a taste of The Bad.
My first class on Mondays is an introductory level course. I have 4 students, 3 of whom sort of suck. By "sort of suck", I mean are pains in my ass. The student that I like in that class is actually the least skilled with English; but he's respectful and listens. Frankly, that's all I ask for. The other three speak out of turn, speak Korean (which is a no-no during English class), point at me and laugh... basically, they do whatever they feel like doing. I'd sort oflike to tape them to the wall, but that would probably make me a bad teacher. And maybe result in my getting arrested. This would actually make for a good enough story that it's almost worth doing it. Hmmm. I'll ponder the idea.
I was walking into the building for my 3pm class when my group of little brats comes running at me, yelling "teacher! teacher!" Two of them have food in their hands, which they promptly wave at me, asking "you want?!?!" I'm about to respond to this when they put the food in their mouths, suck on it, and pass it back my way, screaming "you want?! you want?!" again. I was a little annoyed at their idiocy, but was willing to let it pass with a simple "don't do that, it's rude", presuming they followed me to class and shut the fuck up. Two of them have some concept of what is good for them and did just that.
And then there was "Kevin". "Kevin" decided that it would be fun to continue waving food in my face, sucking on it, and then waving it back in my face. I advised him to come towards the door where I was standing so that I could lecture him on not being a pain in my ass. He looked at me, held his arms in front of his body and crossed them, and yelled "noooooooo!" This went on for about another 15 seconds before he finally got up, turned his back to me, and wiggled his butt. Yes, this actually happened. One of my students shook their ass at me when I was attempting to gain control. I had two choices at this point. Snap that little brat in half, or slam the door on the entire class and go find a Korean teacher to deal with this. I chose the latter option.
After slamming the door in front of the brat pack, I storm back to the office in search of a Korean coworker who can crush this little bitch's soul for me. Thankfully, I have really awesome coteachers, who don't think it's even remotely cool when the kids are rude to me. The woman who works the office was the only one available. When I made her aware of what was going on, she marched to my classroom before I could even finish the story. By the time I made it in behind her, she was giving the entire class a tongue lashing to remember. At least it would have been memorable had I any clue what on earth she was saying. Whatever it was, it worked. The little brat was afraid to speak for a good half hour after she left. I even started calling on him more often because I liked watching him squirm. Twerp.
Being a foreign teacher here is a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand, you're super fucking special. So beautiful! So handsome! On the other hand, some people here don't respect you as much because you are a foreigner. These are often the same people that get plastic surgery in order to look more like you. Nobody ever said that ignorance made sense. Regardless, there are idiots everywhere, so I don't let it bother me most days. Just leave it outside of my fucking classroom and you're golden.
My work day could have had a better beginning. Perhaps this was punishment for having a wee bit too much fun on the weekend? Nah. My day rebounded quite nicely from this only a few minutes after that class. One of my favourite students ran up to me in the hall and made some gesture with his hands, smacked his thigh, then walked off. I called him back to inquire as to what the heck he had just done. Given the treatment I had received an hour earlier, I was skeptical of any child that happened to look in my general direction. He repeated his hand signal and said "hip hop!", pumped his fist in the air, then danced down the hallway. And with that, an 8 year old totally made my day.
My first class on Mondays is an introductory level course. I have 4 students, 3 of whom sort of suck. By "sort of suck", I mean are pains in my ass. The student that I like in that class is actually the least skilled with English; but he's respectful and listens. Frankly, that's all I ask for. The other three speak out of turn, speak Korean (which is a no-no during English class), point at me and laugh... basically, they do whatever they feel like doing. I'd sort oflike to tape them to the wall, but that would probably make me a bad teacher. And maybe result in my getting arrested. This would actually make for a good enough story that it's almost worth doing it. Hmmm. I'll ponder the idea.
I was walking into the building for my 3pm class when my group of little brats comes running at me, yelling "teacher! teacher!" Two of them have food in their hands, which they promptly wave at me, asking "you want?!?!" I'm about to respond to this when they put the food in their mouths, suck on it, and pass it back my way, screaming "you want?! you want?!" again. I was a little annoyed at their idiocy, but was willing to let it pass with a simple "don't do that, it's rude", presuming they followed me to class and shut the fuck up. Two of them have some concept of what is good for them and did just that.
And then there was "Kevin". "Kevin" decided that it would be fun to continue waving food in my face, sucking on it, and then waving it back in my face. I advised him to come towards the door where I was standing so that I could lecture him on not being a pain in my ass. He looked at me, held his arms in front of his body and crossed them, and yelled "noooooooo!" This went on for about another 15 seconds before he finally got up, turned his back to me, and wiggled his butt. Yes, this actually happened. One of my students shook their ass at me when I was attempting to gain control. I had two choices at this point. Snap that little brat in half, or slam the door on the entire class and go find a Korean teacher to deal with this. I chose the latter option.
After slamming the door in front of the brat pack, I storm back to the office in search of a Korean coworker who can crush this little bitch's soul for me. Thankfully, I have really awesome coteachers, who don't think it's even remotely cool when the kids are rude to me. The woman who works the office was the only one available. When I made her aware of what was going on, she marched to my classroom before I could even finish the story. By the time I made it in behind her, she was giving the entire class a tongue lashing to remember. At least it would have been memorable had I any clue what on earth she was saying. Whatever it was, it worked. The little brat was afraid to speak for a good half hour after she left. I even started calling on him more often because I liked watching him squirm. Twerp.
Being a foreign teacher here is a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand, you're super fucking special. So beautiful! So handsome! On the other hand, some people here don't respect you as much because you are a foreigner. These are often the same people that get plastic surgery in order to look more like you. Nobody ever said that ignorance made sense. Regardless, there are idiots everywhere, so I don't let it bother me most days. Just leave it outside of my fucking classroom and you're golden.
My work day could have had a better beginning. Perhaps this was punishment for having a wee bit too much fun on the weekend? Nah. My day rebounded quite nicely from this only a few minutes after that class. One of my favourite students ran up to me in the hall and made some gesture with his hands, smacked his thigh, then walked off. I called him back to inquire as to what the heck he had just done. Given the treatment I had received an hour earlier, I was skeptical of any child that happened to look in my general direction. He repeated his hand signal and said "hip hop!", pumped his fist in the air, then danced down the hallway. And with that, an 8 year old totally made my day.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Big White Barbie Teaches Values
During class today, I took the liberty of copying down the text from one of the dialogues that my students are required to study at the opening of a new lesson. I was stunned to discover that while the curriculum may be rife with errors (I correct the textbooks on an almost daily basis), that it redeems itself by teaching this generation of Koreans some very important life lessons. Below is an excerpt of the dialogue:
Katie: Blah blah blah. I'm not as smart as you! Sad face!
Freddy: Your marks are better than Chloe's, you're not the worst student in class!
Katie: It's alright for you. You're the brightest student in the class. More sad face!
Freddy: That's not true. You're the most popular student in the class. You always help others. Everybody likes you. That's more important.
Katie: You really think so?
Freddy: Yes. You are my best friend.
Noting the important lessons that my students could take away from this short passage, I ensured that each student had a chance to read each part. It simply wouldn't have been right had my students failed to miss any of the following points:
1) When in doubt about your own abilities, comparing yourself to somebody slightly less fortunate is a totally appropriate way to restore your pride.
2) People who don't have the exact same problems as you will never be able to properly understand the difficulties that you have to endure.
3) It's okay if you're a fucking moron, so long as you somehow still manage to get everybody to like you. Popularity is the most important thing in life.
4) The fact that everybody likes you somehow refutes the assertion that you're a fucking moron.
While you may think that I'm kidding, I take my role as Life Advisor very seriously.
Katie: Blah blah blah. I'm not as smart as you! Sad face!
Freddy: Your marks are better than Chloe's, you're not the worst student in class!
Katie: It's alright for you. You're the brightest student in the class. More sad face!
Freddy: That's not true. You're the most popular student in the class. You always help others. Everybody likes you. That's more important.
Katie: You really think so?
Freddy: Yes. You are my best friend.
Noting the important lessons that my students could take away from this short passage, I ensured that each student had a chance to read each part. It simply wouldn't have been right had my students failed to miss any of the following points:
1) When in doubt about your own abilities, comparing yourself to somebody slightly less fortunate is a totally appropriate way to restore your pride.
2) People who don't have the exact same problems as you will never be able to properly understand the difficulties that you have to endure.
3) It's okay if you're a fucking moron, so long as you somehow still manage to get everybody to like you. Popularity is the most important thing in life.
4) The fact that everybody likes you somehow refutes the assertion that you're a fucking moron.
While you may think that I'm kidding, I take my role as Life Advisor very seriously.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Big White Barbie Goes to Work
Rumour has it that I actually have a job. Given my state of affairs prior to departing for South Korea, this likely was met with a good deal of shock from some of you. Before I leave my beloved internet cafe this evening with my reputation as a lazy pain in the ass completely in shambles, I'd like to dispel this speculation before things really get out of hand. Big White Barbie does, in fact, have a job. Given how much time she has to spend at internet cafes writing about herself in the third person, exactly how serious a position she holds is entirely yours to judge.
I teach English as a Foreign Language (EFL) at a small private institute in Busan, South Korea. Such institutes are known as hagwons. My loosely worded one-year contract calls for 30 teaching hours per week, which I'm fairly compensated for. The rent for my apartment is paid for by my boss, as is the airfare to and from Toronto. Hence, my actually pay check is essentially a hefty spending allowance, given the cost of living here.
Based on the stipulations of my contract and the expectations set by my recruiter, I arrived in Korea expecting to work 8 hours per day, 6 of which would be spent in a classroom with a Korean coteacher. I learned quickly that that in Korea, contracts aren't meant to be taken literally and recruiters are never to be trusted. Fortunately in my case, this worked to my advantage. One teaching "hour" is, in reality, 45 minutes. I "teach" 4.5 hours per day. I spend 6-7 hours at the institute. The time not spent teaching is spent talking to coworkers, preparing for class, and generally just sitting around with my thumb up my ass.
I teach students at all degrees of fluency and ages. My youngest student is 5 and my oldest is in her 40's. Some of my students can carry on entire conversations with me. Others, I lose at Hello. Some are wonderfully kind. Others are intollerable brats. I will detail the benefits and drawbacks of my different classes in subsequent posts.
When I'm sitting in a classroom with my students, I take my role seriously. How I define my role is quite different from how I would define the role of a teacher back home. I am not paid to be an educator. I'm paid to be a native speaking English face. While my being white and female is a bonus and certainly prefered, it's not a necessity to finding work here. University educated native English speakers are in high demand here; there are more jobs available than can possibly be filled. Some of these jobs are a scam, but others are quite good. I have been fortunate enough to find the latter. Yet, I'm still not truly and educator. The students don't respect me as they would respect their Korean teachers. Given that my Korean coteachers seemingly put in far more work than I do, perhaps it would be wrong of me to expect the same respect. My unofficial job description is merely to show up on time, go to class, look presentable, and be the Canadian English Speaking Puppet for 4.5 hours a day.
This is how the moniker Big White Barbie came to be. It rolls of the tongue a little better than the former.
So, those of you fearing that I've become a mature, responsible adult need not worry. I'm still a lazy, entitled prick. And I've actually found a place willing to pay fulltime wages for partime work which asks nothing more of me than what comes naturally.
I teach English as a Foreign Language (EFL) at a small private institute in Busan, South Korea. Such institutes are known as hagwons. My loosely worded one-year contract calls for 30 teaching hours per week, which I'm fairly compensated for. The rent for my apartment is paid for by my boss, as is the airfare to and from Toronto. Hence, my actually pay check is essentially a hefty spending allowance, given the cost of living here.
Based on the stipulations of my contract and the expectations set by my recruiter, I arrived in Korea expecting to work 8 hours per day, 6 of which would be spent in a classroom with a Korean coteacher. I learned quickly that that in Korea, contracts aren't meant to be taken literally and recruiters are never to be trusted. Fortunately in my case, this worked to my advantage. One teaching "hour" is, in reality, 45 minutes. I "teach" 4.5 hours per day. I spend 6-7 hours at the institute. The time not spent teaching is spent talking to coworkers, preparing for class, and generally just sitting around with my thumb up my ass.
I teach students at all degrees of fluency and ages. My youngest student is 5 and my oldest is in her 40's. Some of my students can carry on entire conversations with me. Others, I lose at Hello. Some are wonderfully kind. Others are intollerable brats. I will detail the benefits and drawbacks of my different classes in subsequent posts.
When I'm sitting in a classroom with my students, I take my role seriously. How I define my role is quite different from how I would define the role of a teacher back home. I am not paid to be an educator. I'm paid to be a native speaking English face. While my being white and female is a bonus and certainly prefered, it's not a necessity to finding work here. University educated native English speakers are in high demand here; there are more jobs available than can possibly be filled. Some of these jobs are a scam, but others are quite good. I have been fortunate enough to find the latter. Yet, I'm still not truly and educator. The students don't respect me as they would respect their Korean teachers. Given that my Korean coteachers seemingly put in far more work than I do, perhaps it would be wrong of me to expect the same respect. My unofficial job description is merely to show up on time, go to class, look presentable, and be the Canadian English Speaking Puppet for 4.5 hours a day.
This is how the moniker Big White Barbie came to be. It rolls of the tongue a little better than the former.
So, those of you fearing that I've become a mature, responsible adult need not worry. I'm still a lazy, entitled prick. And I've actually found a place willing to pay fulltime wages for partime work which asks nothing more of me than what comes naturally.
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