Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Day 5 of TEFL study
Yesterday one of my students excitedly thrust this in my face:
"Teacher! What is it??"
"...eugh!...uhhh....ehhhh, I have no idea?"
You biology nerds out there are probably nodding in understanding right now, but it took me the greater part of an hour on google to discover that the stinky, slimy object wasn't a practical joke, but a sac full of salamander eggs. (This search was mostly fueled by guilt over not having known the answer right off the bat. I'm the science teacher, for pete's sake! No matter that I hold a degree in fine arts....Wait. Why AM I teaching science again? ...Ah yes. My employers are paying me to do so, and don't seem to care that my degree mainly consists of knowing Tom Stoppard plays and how to apply stage makeup and use my diaphragm.)
In the true spirit of carpe diem, I cut science class short and told my students their assignment for the rest of the period was to research salamanders and figure out how to keep them alive long enough to watch them hatch.
I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.
(And I'm trying my hardest to hold on to that pride and ignore the growing apprehension that I might soon become a baby salamander murderer.)
Our new class motto -- "Science: weird and wonderful!"
p.s. I should probably stop posting completely this week. My "ONE PICTURE ONLY" posts keep turning into normal-length blog posts. But yesterday was special, because Adam is special and it was his BD. Today, however, is not particularly special, and I really had no right to spend so much time explaining these photos. garargraggraagrrga!
.............
(it's in a clear, plastic bowl)
"Teacher! What is it??"
"...eugh!...uhhh....ehhhh, I have no idea?"
You biology nerds out there are probably nodding in understanding right now, but it took me the greater part of an hour on google to discover that the stinky, slimy object wasn't a practical joke, but a sac full of salamander eggs. (This search was mostly fueled by guilt over not having known the answer right off the bat. I'm the science teacher, for pete's sake! No matter that I hold a degree in fine arts....Wait. Why AM I teaching science again? ...Ah yes. My employers are paying me to do so, and don't seem to care that my degree mainly consists of knowing Tom Stoppard plays and how to apply stage makeup and use my diaphragm.)
In the true spirit of carpe diem, I cut science class short and told my students their assignment for the rest of the period was to research salamanders and figure out how to keep them alive long enough to watch them hatch.
I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.
(And I'm trying my hardest to hold on to that pride and ignore the growing apprehension that I might soon become a baby salamander murderer.)
Our new class motto -- "Science: weird and wonderful!"
p.s. I should probably stop posting completely this week. My "ONE PICTURE ONLY" posts keep turning into normal-length blog posts. But yesterday was special, because Adam is special and it was his BD. Today, however, is not particularly special, and I really had no right to spend so much time explaining these photos. garargraggraagrrga!
.............
...and a post for today!
This is my husband:
As you can see, he is the epitome of awesome.
The above photo shows him playing Quiddler at Pizza Hut with me. Quiddler is a word-game like Scrabble (only billions of times better: for one thing, it's portable and compact and travels well. Have you ever tried whipping out that Scrabble board on an airplane?) and I always win it. Adam doesn't like Quiddler, probably partly because he always loses.
Yet... he asks me to play it with him ALL THE TIME. If I didn't love the game so much, I would be tired of it by now. (I'm not. Sorry Adam - maybe that's been your goal all along?)
Why is he always pestering me to play this game he doesn't really enjoy? He says, and I quote, "Because I love watching you play, and seeing how happy it makes you."
*I should probably note here, in case anyone doesn't know, that Quiddler is one of the very very very few things I am fanatical about. I get a little crazy and hyper-competitive when I have Quiddler cards in my hand. Those small, rectangular, purple-and-white pieces of plasticized paper trigger a part of my psyche that otherwise lies dormant and peaceful. For example: normally when playing games, I am more likely to comfort a non-winner than to crow in ecstasy over their defeat. Not so with Quiddler. I want you to go down - IN. FLAMES. *
My husband doesn't seem to care that I get verbally abusive or have the annoying habit of pumping my fists every time he is dealt a bad hand, or slips farther behind in the scores. Nope! In fact, he is enjoying my triumph, and gets a huge kick out of seeing my excitement and occasionally creepy passion for the game.
!
I have no idea how he suppresses his natural sentiments of shame and frustration, but I know it has to do with how much he loves me.
And speaking of love, that's why I'm writing this post in the first place: Today is Adam's 27th birthday, and I wrote this to talk about how much I love him and why.
Let us consider the facts:
He randomly buys me flowers - either Red Roses of Romantic love, or lilies (my faves)....
He is an effective, fascinating and well-loved teacher...
He is a pirate...
He talks to animals and plants as if they can understand everything he says... (why is this so endearing? I don't know. But I feel all crumbly with love every time it happens)
He has approximately 2 vices, both of which are completely forgivable and easily droppable, should he ever get the inclination...
He can iron his own shirts...
He can cook his own food...
He still says he loves me, even though I try to push him out of bed every night (in my sleep - I contend that I'm just subconsciously trying to get closer to him). It's probably lucky for me that he's a lot heavier than I am.
<-- what Adam thinks happens
what I think happens -->
And I love him MORE than Quiddler.
...
As you can see, he is the epitome of awesome.
The above photo shows him playing Quiddler at Pizza Hut with me. Quiddler is a word-game like Scrabble (only billions of times better: for one thing, it's portable and compact and travels well. Have you ever tried whipping out that Scrabble board on an airplane?) and I always win it. Adam doesn't like Quiddler, probably partly because he always loses.
Yet... he asks me to play it with him ALL THE TIME. If I didn't love the game so much, I would be tired of it by now. (I'm not. Sorry Adam - maybe that's been your goal all along?)
Why is he always pestering me to play this game he doesn't really enjoy? He says, and I quote, "Because I love watching you play, and seeing how happy it makes you."
*I should probably note here, in case anyone doesn't know, that Quiddler is one of the very very very few things I am fanatical about. I get a little crazy and hyper-competitive when I have Quiddler cards in my hand. Those small, rectangular, purple-and-white pieces of plasticized paper trigger a part of my psyche that otherwise lies dormant and peaceful. For example: normally when playing games, I am more likely to comfort a non-winner than to crow in ecstasy over their defeat. Not so with Quiddler. I want you to go down - IN. FLAMES. *
My husband doesn't seem to care that I get verbally abusive or have the annoying habit of pumping my fists every time he is dealt a bad hand, or slips farther behind in the scores. Nope! In fact, he is enjoying my triumph, and gets a huge kick out of seeing my excitement and occasionally creepy passion for the game.
!
I have no idea how he suppresses his natural sentiments of shame and frustration, but I know it has to do with how much he loves me.
And speaking of love, that's why I'm writing this post in the first place: Today is Adam's 27th birthday, and I wrote this to talk about how much I love him and why.
Let us consider the facts:
He randomly buys me flowers - either Red Roses of Romantic love, or lilies (my faves)....
He is an effective, fascinating and well-loved teacher...
He is a pirate...
He talks to animals and plants as if they can understand everything he says... (why is this so endearing? I don't know. But I feel all crumbly with love every time it happens)
He has approximately 2 vices, both of which are completely forgivable and easily droppable, should he ever get the inclination...
Kentucky Fried chicken...
...and Coca-Cola
He can iron his own shirts...
He can cook his own food...
He still says he loves me, even though I try to push him out of bed every night (in my sleep - I contend that I'm just subconsciously trying to get closer to him). It's probably lucky for me that he's a lot heavier than I am.
<-- what Adam thinks happens
what I think happens -->
He is a wild and crazy dancing fool!...
He does a killer Louis Armstrong impersonation on Karaoke nights...
And I love him MORE than Quiddler.
...
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Day 2 of TEFL study: Pink Snow
Delicate carpet of cherry blossom petals - they didn't stay long, but they were gorgeous while they lasted.
....
TEFL = Temporary dEath oF bLog
One week from today, I am taking the TEFL - the "Teaching English as a Foreign Language" test. It will give me a certificate that says that I know how to teach English to non-English speakers.
Why do I need such a certificate when I'm already teaching English to non-English speakers, you might ask?
Lemme 'splain: Korea lets me teach because I am a native English speaker with a college degree. However, most other countries in the world are a little more strict and require either a degree in English (Adam scored that one), or a CELTA, TEFL, TESOL certificate to prove that you know what you're doing.
So if we ever decide to wander off to another foreign country, I could only teach and earn money while there if I have one of the afore-mentioned certificates. It will also potentially give me a pay raise here in Korea.
:)
However, to achieve this mini-goal of passing the TEFL, I have to study. I bought this TEFL course in December, thinking "I'm really good at studying, so I totally won't need 6 months to actually finish the course. I'll be done in 1 month, tops."
...But I'm apparently only good at studying when I am in a structured class, with teachers to please and classmates to compete with. ("With whom to compete" is grammatically correct, but sounds lame.) Now, I have a mere 7 days to cram the rest of the unlearned material into my lazy, out-of-practice brain cells.
So I am abstaining from blogging until the test is over.
Be back in one week...!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(I will, however, post one photo a day starting now!)
Why do I need such a certificate when I'm already teaching English to non-English speakers, you might ask?
Lemme 'splain: Korea lets me teach because I am a native English speaker with a college degree. However, most other countries in the world are a little more strict and require either a degree in English (Adam scored that one), or a CELTA, TEFL, TESOL certificate to prove that you know what you're doing.
So if we ever decide to wander off to another foreign country, I could only teach and earn money while there if I have one of the afore-mentioned certificates. It will also potentially give me a pay raise here in Korea.
:)
However, to achieve this mini-goal of passing the TEFL, I have to study. I bought this TEFL course in December, thinking "I'm really good at studying, so I totally won't need 6 months to actually finish the course. I'll be done in 1 month, tops."
...But I'm apparently only good at studying when I am in a structured class, with teachers to please and classmates to compete with. ("With whom to compete" is grammatically correct, but sounds lame.) Now, I have a mere 7 days to cram the rest of the unlearned material into my lazy, out-of-practice brain cells.
So I am abstaining from blogging until the test is over.
Be back in one week...!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(I will, however, post one photo a day starting now!)
The most taste-bud-popping meal I have had since arriving in Korea: A full-fledged American-style breakfast at a restaurant with a French theme, OMG: waffles, french toast, sausage, eggs and hash browns. And believe it or not, waaaaaay better than Waffle House!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Best childhood ever?
I really really really really loved being homeschooled.
However, if Gwinnett county had an elementary school like the one we pass every day on our way to work, there would have been a revolt.
Look closely at the following picture:
Do you see those colorful tube-things? For the first month or so, I thought they were aesthetically pleasing trash chutes (you know, like at construction sites?).
Look closer at the following photo:
and if you're still straining your eyes:
THERE IS A FREAKIN' SLIDE ATTACHED TO TWO OF THE WINDOWS.
!
I really can't think of a more appropriate way to end one's school day:
Teacher: "Class dismissed, see you tomorrow--"
Kids : "WHEEEEEEEE!"
In fact, I can't think of a more appropriate way to end a day at work, either.
Future goal 1 minute ago: Become a professional interpreter
Future goal now: Get a job in a building with a spiral slide exit window for employees.
Hold on...Adam has just pointed out that such a job/building probably does not exist, so I might want to consider going into business for myself.
This is infinitely more brilliant. If I owned a company that manufactured multi-colored, spiral slide exit windows, I would become very rich very quickly, because everyone would want one.
Future goal 1 minute ago: Get a job in a building with a spiral slide exit window for employees.
Future goal now: Build my own spiral slide exit window company and make millions!
However, if Gwinnett county had an elementary school like the one we pass every day on our way to work, there would have been a revolt.
Look closely at the following picture:
Do you see those colorful tube-things? For the first month or so, I thought they were aesthetically pleasing trash chutes (you know, like at construction sites?).
Look closer at the following photo:
and if you're still straining your eyes:
THERE IS A FREAKIN' SLIDE ATTACHED TO TWO OF THE WINDOWS.
!
I really can't think of a more appropriate way to end one's school day:
Teacher: "Class dismissed, see you tomorrow--"
Kids : "WHEEEEEEEE!"
In fact, I can't think of a more appropriate way to end a day at work, either.
Future goal 1 minute ago: Become a professional interpreter
Future goal now: Get a job in a building with a spiral slide exit window for employees.
Hold on...Adam has just pointed out that such a job/building probably does not exist, so I might want to consider going into business for myself.
This is infinitely more brilliant. If I owned a company that manufactured multi-colored, spiral slide exit windows, I would become very rich very quickly, because everyone would want one.
Future goal 1 minute ago: Get a job in a building with a spiral slide exit window for employees.
Future goal now: Build my own spiral slide exit window company and make millions!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Korea Quirk # 2: Paper products
You may think you know the fundamental purpose and specific uses of toilet paper, paper towels and facial tissues...
...but in Korea, these assumptions would be challenged on a regular basis.
Like when you visit a restaurant, and instead of napkins, there is a box of facial tissues on the table. (But feel free to use them when blowing your nose, too!)
Or when you find a toilet paper dispenser attached to the coffee shop counter in place of a napkin dispenser.
Or when you notice an economy-sized roll of hand-drying paper towels (those nasty, useless brown ones) on the wall of a nice restaurant.
Or, you could always just visit the school where I work. In our lobby, there is a little coffee/tea table, with mugs, tea bags, stirrers, sugar, etc. To complete the necessary beverage-making items, we also have a roll of T.P. housed in an awesome robot-head dispenser:
Ours is red. :| (<-- robot smile)
Mostly, I find these differences in paper product placement hilarious. However, if I ever enter a bathroom stall to find those nasty, brown paper towels in place of regular t.p., I will probably change my tune.
.....
...but in Korea, these assumptions would be challenged on a regular basis.
Like when you visit a restaurant, and instead of napkins, there is a box of facial tissues on the table. (But feel free to use them when blowing your nose, too!)
Or when you find a toilet paper dispenser attached to the coffee shop counter in place of a napkin dispenser.
Or when you notice an economy-sized roll of hand-drying paper towels (those nasty, useless brown ones) on the wall of a nice restaurant.
Or, you could always just visit the school where I work. In our lobby, there is a little coffee/tea table, with mugs, tea bags, stirrers, sugar, etc. To complete the necessary beverage-making items, we also have a roll of T.P. housed in an awesome robot-head dispenser:
Ours is red. :| (<-- robot smile)
Mostly, I find these differences in paper product placement hilarious. However, if I ever enter a bathroom stall to find those nasty, brown paper towels in place of regular t.p., I will probably change my tune.
.....
Friday, May 14, 2010
Disasters happen
I had a heart-attack moment last night : walking home, I saw smoke billowing in the sky in the approximate direction of our apartment, where Adam was supposed to be writing his little heart out on his laptop.
It turned out to be a massive fire 2 buildings away, and still burning merrily. Relief gave way to curiosity, and I joined the droves of Koreans, rubber-necking as hard as we could and getting far too close to the destruction. Adam visited the site about 1.5 hours before I, and we both marveled at how close the fire and police control let civilians get before shooing us away. We would NEVER have gotten that close in the USA.
I know it was terrible, and it's possible people were hurt or even killed, but I was mesmerized in horror and intense curiosity. How did the fire start? Where and when did it start? How could it have been prevented? What needed to be done next? Could I be of help? It made me want to join a volunteer fire brigade on the spot. *I* wanted to crawl around on the rubble, searching for clues, cleaning up, spraying hoses... But I know that I fantasize. I have at least 2 friends who actually DO fight fires, and I know they'd tell me that there is nothing glamorous about it.
...
Here's hoping with all my heart that no one was hurt, and that every single owner (of car, shop, building) has extensive fire insurance coverage.
It turned out to be a massive fire 2 buildings away, and still burning merrily. Relief gave way to curiosity, and I joined the droves of Koreans, rubber-necking as hard as we could and getting far too close to the destruction. Adam visited the site about 1.5 hours before I, and we both marveled at how close the fire and police control let civilians get before shooing us away. We would NEVER have gotten that close in the USA.
I know it was terrible, and it's possible people were hurt or even killed, but I was mesmerized in horror and intense curiosity. How did the fire start? Where and when did it start? How could it have been prevented? What needed to be done next? Could I be of help? It made me want to join a volunteer fire brigade on the spot. *I* wanted to crawl around on the rubble, searching for clues, cleaning up, spraying hoses... But I know that I fantasize. I have at least 2 friends who actually DO fight fires, and I know they'd tell me that there is nothing glamorous about it.
...
Burnt and twisted store mannequins
All the cars that were too close to the inferno looked like this
Here's hoping with all my heart that no one was hurt, and that every single owner (of car, shop, building) has extensive fire insurance coverage.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Korea Quirk #1: Public restrooms **
Interactions with public restrooms in South Korea are not unlike those of Europe: you have to have the alertness and observational powers of a ninja-assassin to have a successful trip to the loo.
Normal concerns include:
- Is there a public restroom, or are the proprietors of this restaurant going to invite me to use their family bathroom?
- Is there a lock on the door of my stall?
- Is there a hook to hang my purse/jacket/bag on so I don't have to set it/them down on the smarmy, muddy, germ-laden floor?
- Is there enough or any toilet paper? (Always carry tissues...)
- Is there soap with which to wash my hands after? (Always carry hand sanitizer...)
- Are there any hand-drying apparatuses available, or will I be using my pants?
In Europe, there was an additional concern:
- Am I going to be charged for using this facility? [And follow-up: Do I have any cash or coins in the correct currency to pay for my right to pee? Is there a bathroom attendant who will expect to be tipped for pointing me to an empty stall? Do I have enough coins to tip her and keep her from being insulted by a paltry amount and retaliate by spitting on my shoes?] (always carry a couple dollars/pounds/euros/francs in change...)
In Korea, there are several additional concerns:
- Is there a toilet? If the "toilet" is just a hole in the ground, better to hold it and wait, because if you go for it anyways, you will end up peeing on your shoes (trust me).
- Did the jerks who made this restroom put the toilet paper OUTSIDE the bathroom stalls or inside? I am not kidding - they actually do this. Your ninja-like observational skills come in very handy at this point: If you notice the TP placement BEFORE entering the stall to relieve yourself, you can snag some TP and have a successful visit. If, however, you have a vague memory of successfully visiting a certain restroom before, but you fail to remember the necessary step of retrieving TP before entering your stall, you will not have a successful visit. (unless of course, you always carry tissues with you...)
- Are you in the correct restroom for your gender? Just because there is a urinal does not mean you are in the men's room. Go back and check the little bathroom pictures carefully:
...If you are still confused as to which image is male or female, or why this seems to be a restroom for chubby children, wait : and with your ninja-assassin powers of observation, note whether the next person entering/exiting the restroom in question is of the same sex as you. If not, use the other restroom.
If it is so late at night that no-one enters or exits either restroom after 5 minutes of waiting, then it doesn't matter which room you choose. Pick the one with toilet paper and soap.
Luckily for all of you, I have gone through enough restroom mishaps to safely advise you through the process should you ever be in Europe or South Korea.
You're welcome!
** I would like to clarify that the title of this series of posts is not, in fact, politically incorrect. I am perfectly aware that many of these Anna-labeled "quirks" are only regarded as quirky by me (and other foreigners) because they are different from what I (we) are used to. The title of this post series is really "Cultural difference awareness #__". However, I don't think that's as catchy as "Korea Quirk # ___", which might sound to some like I am assuming that anything different from my idea of normal is strange and quirky in and of itself. But that's not at all the meaning I was going for, thus the existence of this disclaimer to set anyone straight who was condemning me for my cultural insensitivity. I promise that I am very culturally sensitive, and that the phrase "Korea Quirk" is merely an expression of poetic license. Thank you for your understanding.
Normal concerns include:
- Is there a public restroom, or are the proprietors of this restaurant going to invite me to use their family bathroom?
- Is there a lock on the door of my stall?
- Is there a hook to hang my purse/jacket/bag on so I don't have to set it/them down on the smarmy, muddy, germ-laden floor?
- Is there enough or any toilet paper? (Always carry tissues...)
- Is there soap with which to wash my hands after? (Always carry hand sanitizer...)
- Are there any hand-drying apparatuses available, or will I be using my pants?
In Europe, there was an additional concern:
- Am I going to be charged for using this facility? [And follow-up: Do I have any cash or coins in the correct currency to pay for my right to pee? Is there a bathroom attendant who will expect to be tipped for pointing me to an empty stall? Do I have enough coins to tip her and keep her from being insulted by a paltry amount and retaliate by spitting on my shoes?] (always carry a couple dollars/pounds/euros/francs in change...)
In Korea, there are several additional concerns:
- Is there a toilet? If the "toilet" is just a hole in the ground, better to hold it and wait, because if you go for it anyways, you will end up peeing on your shoes (trust me).
- Did the jerks who made this restroom put the toilet paper OUTSIDE the bathroom stalls or inside? I am not kidding - they actually do this. Your ninja-like observational skills come in very handy at this point: If you notice the TP placement BEFORE entering the stall to relieve yourself, you can snag some TP and have a successful visit. If, however, you have a vague memory of successfully visiting a certain restroom before, but you fail to remember the necessary step of retrieving TP before entering your stall, you will not have a successful visit. (unless of course, you always carry tissues with you...)
- Are you in the correct restroom for your gender? Just because there is a urinal does not mean you are in the men's room. Go back and check the little bathroom pictures carefully:
...If you are still confused as to which image is male or female, or why this seems to be a restroom for chubby children, wait : and with your ninja-assassin powers of observation, note whether the next person entering/exiting the restroom in question is of the same sex as you. If not, use the other restroom.
If it is so late at night that no-one enters or exits either restroom after 5 minutes of waiting, then it doesn't matter which room you choose. Pick the one with toilet paper and soap.
Luckily for all of you, I have gone through enough restroom mishaps to safely advise you through the process should you ever be in Europe or South Korea.
You're welcome!
** I would like to clarify that the title of this series of posts is not, in fact, politically incorrect. I am perfectly aware that many of these Anna-labeled "quirks" are only regarded as quirky by me (and other foreigners) because they are different from what I (we) are used to. The title of this post series is really "Cultural difference awareness #__". However, I don't think that's as catchy as "Korea Quirk # ___", which might sound to some like I am assuming that anything different from my idea of normal is strange and quirky in and of itself. But that's not at all the meaning I was going for, thus the existence of this disclaimer to set anyone straight who was condemning me for my cultural insensitivity. I promise that I am very culturally sensitive, and that the phrase "Korea Quirk" is merely an expression of poetic license. Thank you for your understanding.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Would you like pretzels, cookies or peanuts?
When I visited my friend Hyo Jeong a couple weeks ago, amidst laughter and frivolous talk and serious talk, I asked her where I could purchase a cheap set of rollers for curling my hair. She just stared at me. "For YOU?" she finally asked, eyebrows high and eyes wide.
She was surprised, because the Anna she met in New Zealand 5 years ago didn't give a fig about hair rollers, and spent her $ on really cool things, like traveling and authentic Italian pizza and theatre.
And I still like all those things! (A lot.)
But... Now I also give a fig about hair rollers. Something happened to me upon arriving in Korea. I suddenly realized that it was imperatively important to me that I dress the part of Professional Teacher. And not in a "dejected-because-I-have-to-fit-the-mold-but-don't-wanna-because-I-am-a-rebel-at-heart" way, either; no, I felt eagerness and excitement over this drive to fit the working-woman mold.
Hose and high heels! Dress pants and blazers! Neat hair and dress shirts! Bring it on!
(No make-up, though - that's a personal line I only cross for special occasions.)
What? Why is this so exciting to me? Or, to most of me. Part of me feels uneasily like a traitor - Mary G, do you still love me? - and is baffled as to why I am embracing these dress code conventions so enthusiastically.
But the answer is really simple: I've never had a job that required nice clothes before (set-building, rock climbing instructor, nanny, pre-K teacher - grubbies only), so it's a novelty, a persona I've never tried on before. I think my inner actress believes that my job is just a play and Professional Teacher is my character, and just loves wearing a costume every day.
Plus, my Husband's eyes get really wide and happy when I look fabulous (which he says is always), so I'm frequently guilty of going out of my way to dress sharp for him. And now I dress nice every day.
Some days are more miss than hit, though. Like yesterday.
I got dressed, realized I only had black and white in my outfit, and threw a scarf around my neck for color. Then I looked in the mirror.
"Adam!" I wailed, panicking because we were late and I didn't have time to change clothes. "I look like a flight attendant!"
He looked at me, smiled widely, and said, "That's not a bad thing." He really is no help sometimes.
But it was a bad thing. See photo below.
How are students supposed to take me seriously when they have to fight the impulse to request beverages and peanuts whenever they're hungry/thirsty?
And how is my inner actress supposed to take this?
I have a minimal flight attendant phobia. Despite knowing and loving some beautiful and fabulous flight attendants (yes, you, Marnell and Lily), I have never had the aforementioned 2 women as my flight attendants on any flight I've ever taken. Instead, my absolute most embarrassing moment in my whole life came about because of nasty, uncaring flight attendants. And no, I'm not telling that story in this post, so if you were getting excited and hoping to hear it, "get used to disappointment." (I just posted a photo of me posing as a flight attendant, so that's quite enough embarrassment for today.) Also, you get 10 points if you're the first person to guess correctly who said the above quote.
Anyways, I'm sure my students struggled mightily against their impulses, but the day passed without a single peanut-packet-demanding incident. And I drank the tea in that mug in the picture myself.
Adam must really have liked the outfit, though, because this is what I found on the blackboard after he finished teaching English:
:)
In retrospect, I probably could have just taken off the scarf, and I would have shed the entire flight attendant persona. But instead, I wore it all day long, because I didn't want to wear only black and white, which is what I usually do.
She was surprised, because the Anna she met in New Zealand 5 years ago didn't give a fig about hair rollers, and spent her $ on really cool things, like traveling and authentic Italian pizza and theatre.
And I still like all those things! (A lot.)
But... Now I also give a fig about hair rollers. Something happened to me upon arriving in Korea. I suddenly realized that it was imperatively important to me that I dress the part of Professional Teacher. And not in a "dejected-because-I-have-to-fit-the-mold-but-don't-wanna-because-I-am-a-rebel-at-heart" way, either; no, I felt eagerness and excitement over this drive to fit the working-woman mold.
Hose and high heels! Dress pants and blazers! Neat hair and dress shirts! Bring it on!
(No make-up, though - that's a personal line I only cross for special occasions.)
What? Why is this so exciting to me? Or, to most of me. Part of me feels uneasily like a traitor - Mary G, do you still love me? - and is baffled as to why I am embracing these dress code conventions so enthusiastically.
But the answer is really simple: I've never had a job that required nice clothes before (set-building, rock climbing instructor, nanny, pre-K teacher - grubbies only), so it's a novelty, a persona I've never tried on before. I think my inner actress believes that my job is just a play and Professional Teacher is my character, and just loves wearing a costume every day.
Plus, my Husband's eyes get really wide and happy when I look fabulous (which he says is always), so I'm frequently guilty of going out of my way to dress sharp for him. And now I dress nice every day.
Some days are more miss than hit, though. Like yesterday.
I got dressed, realized I only had black and white in my outfit, and threw a scarf around my neck for color. Then I looked in the mirror.
"Adam!" I wailed, panicking because we were late and I didn't have time to change clothes. "I look like a flight attendant!"
He looked at me, smiled widely, and said, "That's not a bad thing." He really is no help sometimes.
But it was a bad thing. See photo below.
How are students supposed to take me seriously when they have to fight the impulse to request beverages and peanuts whenever they're hungry/thirsty?
And how is my inner actress supposed to take this?
I have a minimal flight attendant phobia. Despite knowing and loving some beautiful and fabulous flight attendants (yes, you, Marnell and Lily), I have never had the aforementioned 2 women as my flight attendants on any flight I've ever taken. Instead, my absolute most embarrassing moment in my whole life came about because of nasty, uncaring flight attendants. And no, I'm not telling that story in this post, so if you were getting excited and hoping to hear it, "get used to disappointment." (I just posted a photo of me posing as a flight attendant, so that's quite enough embarrassment for today.) Also, you get 10 points if you're the first person to guess correctly who said the above quote.
Anyways, I'm sure my students struggled mightily against their impulses, but the day passed without a single peanut-packet-demanding incident. And I drank the tea in that mug in the picture myself.
Adam must really have liked the outfit, though, because this is what I found on the blackboard after he finished teaching English:
:)
In retrospect, I probably could have just taken off the scarf, and I would have shed the entire flight attendant persona. But instead, I wore it all day long, because I didn't want to wear only black and white, which is what I usually do.
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