Wild, Wild East

"A man's got to do what a man's got to do."
- John Wayne -

I was headed upstairs to my classroom when I spotted a student standing at the end of the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw me. He sprinted upstairs shouting "Sun seng nim! Sun seng nim!" which means teacher in Korean. From above I heard shuffling and muffled whispers from the students. I knew what was going on, so I just smirked and continued up the stairs. The student that spotted me was the look out. The Paul Revere, if you will, shouting the foretelling arrival of a redcoat that is the teacher. As I made my way up on the fifth floor a group of students in front of the bathroom shuffled into a neat row and greeted me: "Hello, teacher!" "Hi, Paolo" "Anyeonghaseyo, sun seng nim!"

The theme song from Matlock played in my head.

If it wasn't the stupid guilt I saw on their faces that gave away their crime, surely it was the telltale smell of cigarette smoke that wafted in the hallway. "You guys, I'm not stupid," I said trying hard not to laugh. It's against school policy for students to bring cigarettes on campus much less smoke them. Yet, they try to sneak in a few puffs in the bathrooms while the teachers are at lunch. When the cats away, the mice will smoke a bogey, I guess is the saying. Getting caught is punishable by suspension or expulsion.

"Flush it down the toilet and go back to class," I demanded. Three nervous students bolted out of my sight for reasons unknown. The rest of the students went into the bathroom and proceeded to make sweet symphony with the crappers as they dumped the remaining cigarettes. One student poked his head out the bathroom and asked "Teacher, me no trouble?" I could have easily scolded them and reported them to the Vice Principal, but I didn't. I don't smoke, so it's not like I sympathized with smokers. I think being a teacher has shown me the importance of patience and forgiveness. I remember I made a lot of mistakes when I first started my very first job right after high school, and I think what stood out about learning from my mistakes was the value of virtue shown by my boss. Moments when I thought I'd get fired on the spot, I'd find myself getting a second chance. "That's how you learn," I was told.

It's part of growing up, I figure.

"Thank you, teacher," one of them said to me.

"Eh, shut up," I said. In my head.

Patience. It's one of those things you don't learn in a classroom.

Onward to pictures. These pictures are from Jagalchi Market, THE biggest fish market in South Korea. Jongkeun and I moseyed around to sample food, gawk at the live octopus, and bargain the hell out of these little shops.

Street near Jagalchi Market.

My friend Jongkeun. Hard to believe he used to be a sniper for the Korean army.
Fresh octopus looking as appetizing as the time I opened a body bag filled with a 4-day rotted corpse.

Art work depicting Busan's future generation in keeping this port city competitive in decades ahead. However, it's just a constant reminder of the diabolical stage they go through called being 15 and being an asshole.
Sad turtle is sad. It's about to be made into a stew. I didn't eat it. I couldn't eat it. I already named it Donatello before Jongkeun told me his name was actually dinner.
Speaking of food that makes me sad... I'm often open to Korean cuisine, but sometimes the food is so spicy that it actually hinders my life. "Wait, clear the path to the bathroom...my stomach's trying to figure out if it likes this or not..."

I've been thinking about what I'm going to be doing after my gig in Korea is up. I actually haven't decided yet if I'll be staying with my job here, but my school seems to be making that decision for me. They're making me another English classroom and this time it's totally pimped to the max. The principal has also said that if I wanted a better apartment then he'd provide me with the goods. This is all assuming that I'm renewing my contract. Which I don't even know for sure.

My options thus far are definitely focused on going back to school. Graduate school has been looming in the back of my mind. Like a tumor, if you please. I also would like to put a foot in the State Department door. If I could get a clerical job in (at this point) ANY U.S. Embassy then I'd take it. But, I hear you'd have to kick a lot of kittens to get to that point.

Anyway, I have to iron my clothes. I don't want to walk around looking like I'm wearing Governor Jan Brewer's face.

Until next blog.