Charpie's Travels

There was a rash of kinder students walking around on the sides of their feet today. My student started it. She hobbled over to me yesterday and said in her raspy voice, "Teacher, I am broken leg." And how did I know that her left leg was her "broken" leg? Well, she wore a normal shoe on her right foot and her inside slipper on her left foot. She also worked up a decent limp by walking on the side of her left foot. Yesterday, Maro had one broken leg. Today, she grabbed my arm with both hands, quit standing so I was suddenly holding her weight, and informed me, "Teacher I am TWO broken legs!" She stuck with one normal shoe and one inside shoe, but now she walked on the outsides of both feet. On the way to bathroom break, I noticed Annabelle trying out the new walking technique. I spotted a couple others and, by lunchtime, some teachers were puzzling over why kindergarteners were walking on the sides of their feet. Way to inspire, Maro.

Between my house and the subway station, there is a small bakery. I stop there sometimes...mainly for mocha bread. When I went in a couple weekends ago, a new girl was working. "Helloooo!!" I rarely am greeted in English and, with the exception of a few pre-kinder kids, no one sounds that excited when they see me. She asked the usual questions about where I'm from, informed me that English is very hard, and picked out an extra pastry for me.  "Service-uh," she said as she stuffed it in my purse. That's Korean for "this one is free."  Sunday morning I stopped again for mocha bread and a coffee. Same worker, same enthusiastic greeting. Well, possibly more enthusiastic. She even remembered my name! I realize I don't exactly blend in here, but I still thought it impressive that she remembered my name. Among other things, she established that she is my "big sister." In Korea, you are friends with people who are the same age a...

Should you ever decide to teach elementary children in Korea, there are two questions you must be prepared to answer. Some students will confront you right away. Others must warm up to you for a few days or weeks. But they will ask. And they will do so mid-lecture, or mid-sentence, or pretty much anytime they like. 1. Are you married? 2. How old are you? (best guess so far: 36 years old)

The couple sitting beside me is perfectly stereotypical. She uses her baby voice and whines. They each ordered a coffee and waffle, but he still feeds her his food. Partway through, they break for a cute cellphone photo op. It occurs to me that, of all the solo patrons here, I am the only female. And while the others appear to be doing important things on their laptops and cellphones, I bet you a latte at least half of them are just putting on a good show. Like me. The guy in the corner quit pretending a while back and settled in for a nap. A group of women occupies a few tables in front of me. Their conversation is animated but incredibly quiet. As they sign back and forth, they pause occasionally to pass stacks of Won across the table. If I ever write a mystery novel, they'll be in it.

I am no longer a Pre-Kinder teacher. The semester (for my school) ended Friday, and I've been assigned to a Kindergarten class for the new school year. I'll have a couple of my Pre-K students again, but the rest will be new faces. Considering that I haven't even been here three full months, I didn't anticipate saying many goodbyes already. Starting next week, we all have different afternoon (elementary) teaching schedules, so I have no idea which kids I'll see again. The last couple days were rough for some of my youngest kids. Rebecca sobbed through the entire last class, and Andrew hid in a corner. When my co-teacher congratulated the class for moving up to kindergarten, Grace snapped. "Stop saying kindergarten! I do not want to go!"  The foreign teachers are all paired with different Korean teachers for the new semester. So, while we do still work for the same school, it felt like I was saying goodbye to my co-teacher. She was super. Also, Friday was ...

For Valentine's Day, my fabulous parents sent me a box of chocolate-covered potato chips. Someone brought me the package during class (my mail is sent to work), and my pre-kinders were beyond excited about it. Grace ran around shaking the box as hard as she possibly could. I promised them that, if they finished their work quickly, we'd open my mail. Maybe this just shows how little I know about Korean kids, but I really expected them to be grossed out by potato chips dipped in chocolate. Even after they begged to try them, I still expected someone to spit out their chip. Not the case. The first word they uttered after tasting the chips was "delicious!" I walked into class after a three-day weekend and my kids were still bitter that I hadn't given them each more than one chip. "Teacher, you are not good," Diana announced. "You do not share your chips." I promised to bring these kids a treat for some class-wide accomplishment. I made the...

Here's another album two months late. I spent the day with Amy around where she lives.  Suraksan