I was wrong. I'm exhausted. Whether it is from Chinese or something else I'm not sure. Haven't written much lately.
But we're back on a schedule over at printculture... my latest post on Seoul's Car Free Day.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
a new hakwon student
I started taking Chinese at hakwon this week. When I went to sign up last week I originally tested to get into a MWF class, but after I took the written exam they told me they didn’t have a teacher around to interview me, so would I mind doing the interview over the phone? I jokingly said, “But the phone is so much harder!” Long story short, I did the phone interview the next day and bombed; they put me in beginning Chinese. But then there weren’t enough students so the class was cancelled and I had to do the process all over again at another hakwon. This time I did the interview in person and was placed in level 3. (I would have put myself in level 2...)
I’ve been watching myself go through this process and trying to observe what I can about the process of learning a language. I know from experience in Korea how much harder it is to understand a language over the phone. When I can, I do things in person, especially if it is something I’m doing for the first time: I go to the bank in person, go to the dentist to make an appointment in person. Once I know the people and have a feel for the kinds of questions I’ll need to ask or answer I can do it over the phone, but on the first try it is really hard. In person, I get all sorts of bodily clues, the person can see my expressions (and the fact that I’m a foreigner), I can make use of other tools if I need to. And although it may seem obvious it should be said that when listening to a foreign language one needs to be able to hear very clearly. Background noise, local dialects, mumbling, and idiosyncratic pacing (you know those people who suddenly speed up at the end of a sentence) are all things that can really mess me up in conversation.
So I was really proud of myself for going through the process of registering for a Chinese class in Korean. The test directions were all in Korean, I had to translate from Korean, etc. It wasn’t a big deal (I don’t often have problems with my Korean these days) but I realized as a froze during the test that I had been learning Chinese with an English book, and having to go from Korean to Chinese rather than English to Chinese was messing me up. Chinese and English are more similar grammatically, and when I read Korean the Korean kind of takes over. I found myself translating back into Korean without thinking.
The textbook we’re using in class is also, naturally, a book written for Korean speakers, and some of the vocabulary is hard enough that I don’t understand the Korean translations either, so I had to recharge the batteries for my Korean-English dictionary and carry it around along with my Chinese-English dictionary. There’s a lot of definitional triangulation going on!
The class is hard (I think I really should have been in level 2) but I don’t mind; I’ll learn a lot more if its on the hard side, and I really like the teacher, who is Chinese. She speaks about 95% in Chinese, which I really like just for the sake of learning but also because occasionally when she’ll clarify something in Korean it jars me. Her Korean accent is not that great and it takes me a moment to figure out which language she was speaking and then figure out her accent and usually by that time I’ve lost track of the conversation. I think I follow about 50% of what she says during an average class, though I have good and bad listening days.
This experience reminds me of the classes I took when we moved here, when good amounts of the dialogue would pass through my ears without me understanding what they were about. But I learned a lot of Korean that way, and most of all I learned how to listen. There’s a certain kind of state of mind you have to be in, I think, a sort of receptive, open state of mind, letting everything into your brain and not trying to too-actively tangle with it. If you start trying to consciously pick apart this word or that one you lose track of the flow of the conversation and then you lose the thread of meaning. It is hard to describe how this works exactly, but when I was sitting in class this week I kept thinking, with amazement and pride, that I can get into that state of mind very easily now, and whether it is Korean or Chinese I’m listening to, achieving that kind of receptive state doesn’t exhaust me the way it used to. I can see why they say that people who speak 3 languages tend to pick up new languages more easily -- your mind has been trained to absorb language and no longer gets so disarrayed by waves of input. I don’t feel overwhelmed, I don’t feel like I need to understand one word to get to the next. If I don’t understand something I just let it go and wait for the next one and make inferences. I don’t know my Chinese skills have improved much in the last few days, but the Chinese seems to come out of my mouth with less effort than it did a week ago. But I still don’t speak very well... it’ll take some time, and just as it happened with Korean, there will probably be times when I feel like I’m learning a lot, very quickly, and times when I feel like I’m stuck and not really improving. But I’m excited about the class and just fascinated with the process of learning, with observing the way my brain works.
But more importantly, I need to stop watching Prison Break, or watch season 2 really quickly, because its impeding my studying. We began watching while in the States and were quickly addicted. We’ve finished season 1, but there were several days this past week when we went to bed really late because of that show. Other than our Battlestar Galactica phase I haven’t really watched any TV in the past year or so and I had forgotten what a pleasurable experience it can be. And -- I have to say it, since I ranted about the disappointing kiss in Surgeon BongDarHee -- the kiss between Michael and Sara towards the end of season 1 was really, really good. What can I say? I’m American. I like a good onscreen kiss.
Kid updates:
- Aiden holds my hand until we get near the middle school (which is across the street from his elementary school) then suddenly he drops back about 10 feet and pretends he doesn’t know me. He’s suddenly very aware of these bigger kids; he’s fascinated with the way they get punished every morning. Actually, I find it fascinating too. As they enter the school gate they get checked for all sorts of stuff: the length of their hair, their skirts, the state of their uniforms, etc. If something isn’t right they get punished; first they sit in lines near the gate and later they either get hit or their heads or shaved or they have to do push ups or some other similar physical exercise (standing with arms out?). I haven’t stuck around to watch the whole process but it is kind of funny and grotesquely strange at the same time. Middle school kids here are like a different species. I was walking by the school one day and streams of girls were coming out crying; it turns out they had had an exam. Exams are a serious business.
- on the trip back to SF we were in Minneapolis for a layover and Aiden asked me if the population of Minneapolis was small. I didn’t quite know where that question was coming from, and started into this explanation about the relative populations of cities... and then he said, “Because it’s ‘mini,’ Mommy!” Aha. Got it.
- And then while we were boarding the plane he asked, “Mommy, why do men like women? When they’re adults, I mean?” Good question, little boy, good question.
I’ve been watching myself go through this process and trying to observe what I can about the process of learning a language. I know from experience in Korea how much harder it is to understand a language over the phone. When I can, I do things in person, especially if it is something I’m doing for the first time: I go to the bank in person, go to the dentist to make an appointment in person. Once I know the people and have a feel for the kinds of questions I’ll need to ask or answer I can do it over the phone, but on the first try it is really hard. In person, I get all sorts of bodily clues, the person can see my expressions (and the fact that I’m a foreigner), I can make use of other tools if I need to. And although it may seem obvious it should be said that when listening to a foreign language one needs to be able to hear very clearly. Background noise, local dialects, mumbling, and idiosyncratic pacing (you know those people who suddenly speed up at the end of a sentence) are all things that can really mess me up in conversation.
So I was really proud of myself for going through the process of registering for a Chinese class in Korean. The test directions were all in Korean, I had to translate from Korean, etc. It wasn’t a big deal (I don’t often have problems with my Korean these days) but I realized as a froze during the test that I had been learning Chinese with an English book, and having to go from Korean to Chinese rather than English to Chinese was messing me up. Chinese and English are more similar grammatically, and when I read Korean the Korean kind of takes over. I found myself translating back into Korean without thinking.
The textbook we’re using in class is also, naturally, a book written for Korean speakers, and some of the vocabulary is hard enough that I don’t understand the Korean translations either, so I had to recharge the batteries for my Korean-English dictionary and carry it around along with my Chinese-English dictionary. There’s a lot of definitional triangulation going on!
The class is hard (I think I really should have been in level 2) but I don’t mind; I’ll learn a lot more if its on the hard side, and I really like the teacher, who is Chinese. She speaks about 95% in Chinese, which I really like just for the sake of learning but also because occasionally when she’ll clarify something in Korean it jars me. Her Korean accent is not that great and it takes me a moment to figure out which language she was speaking and then figure out her accent and usually by that time I’ve lost track of the conversation. I think I follow about 50% of what she says during an average class, though I have good and bad listening days.
This experience reminds me of the classes I took when we moved here, when good amounts of the dialogue would pass through my ears without me understanding what they were about. But I learned a lot of Korean that way, and most of all I learned how to listen. There’s a certain kind of state of mind you have to be in, I think, a sort of receptive, open state of mind, letting everything into your brain and not trying to too-actively tangle with it. If you start trying to consciously pick apart this word or that one you lose track of the flow of the conversation and then you lose the thread of meaning. It is hard to describe how this works exactly, but when I was sitting in class this week I kept thinking, with amazement and pride, that I can get into that state of mind very easily now, and whether it is Korean or Chinese I’m listening to, achieving that kind of receptive state doesn’t exhaust me the way it used to. I can see why they say that people who speak 3 languages tend to pick up new languages more easily -- your mind has been trained to absorb language and no longer gets so disarrayed by waves of input. I don’t feel overwhelmed, I don’t feel like I need to understand one word to get to the next. If I don’t understand something I just let it go and wait for the next one and make inferences. I don’t know my Chinese skills have improved much in the last few days, but the Chinese seems to come out of my mouth with less effort than it did a week ago. But I still don’t speak very well... it’ll take some time, and just as it happened with Korean, there will probably be times when I feel like I’m learning a lot, very quickly, and times when I feel like I’m stuck and not really improving. But I’m excited about the class and just fascinated with the process of learning, with observing the way my brain works.
But more importantly, I need to stop watching Prison Break, or watch season 2 really quickly, because its impeding my studying. We began watching while in the States and were quickly addicted. We’ve finished season 1, but there were several days this past week when we went to bed really late because of that show. Other than our Battlestar Galactica phase I haven’t really watched any TV in the past year or so and I had forgotten what a pleasurable experience it can be. And -- I have to say it, since I ranted about the disappointing kiss in Surgeon BongDarHee -- the kiss between Michael and Sara towards the end of season 1 was really, really good. What can I say? I’m American. I like a good onscreen kiss.
Kid updates:
- Aiden holds my hand until we get near the middle school (which is across the street from his elementary school) then suddenly he drops back about 10 feet and pretends he doesn’t know me. He’s suddenly very aware of these bigger kids; he’s fascinated with the way they get punished every morning. Actually, I find it fascinating too. As they enter the school gate they get checked for all sorts of stuff: the length of their hair, their skirts, the state of their uniforms, etc. If something isn’t right they get punished; first they sit in lines near the gate and later they either get hit or their heads or shaved or they have to do push ups or some other similar physical exercise (standing with arms out?). I haven’t stuck around to watch the whole process but it is kind of funny and grotesquely strange at the same time. Middle school kids here are like a different species. I was walking by the school one day and streams of girls were coming out crying; it turns out they had had an exam. Exams are a serious business.
- on the trip back to SF we were in Minneapolis for a layover and Aiden asked me if the population of Minneapolis was small. I didn’t quite know where that question was coming from, and started into this explanation about the relative populations of cities... and then he said, “Because it’s ‘mini,’ Mommy!” Aha. Got it.
- And then while we were boarding the plane he asked, “Mommy, why do men like women? When they’re adults, I mean?” Good question, little boy, good question.
Monday, August 06, 2007
travel through the printculture archives
I actually posted this a little while ago, but forgot to link to it here...
Monday, July 30, 2007
Fortified Kids
We’re about ten days into our U.S. trip, in the second city. Aiden’s into his second week of camp (soccer camp for one week and now general sports camp for a week) and Max just started his first week of camp (gymnastics). Finally getting through the jet lag and beginning to be able to make sense of the world again.
Aiden has been incredibly observant this trip. There’s some kind of budding of consciousness that happens at first grade; suddenly he is acutely aware of difference and able to (sometimes) articulate it. Some of his questions/observations:
1. “Mommy, why do people in the U.S. live in houses while people in Korea live in apartments?”
2. “Mommy, how come there are no sidewalks in the U.S.?”
3. “Why can’t I ride my scooter to the store?” (he’s not used to having to get into the car for every little errand)
4. “Why are all the signs green, on the highway and on the street?”
5. “Wow, stuff in the U.S. is so cheap!”
6. (from the last trip, at the airport, upon being told that he had to stay in the women’s bathroom with me and Max until we were finished because the “rules” are different here) “Mommy, the U.S. is terrible!”
Language that he’s learned:
1. “What the heck?” (Now Max knows it too) I asked, “Where did you learn that?” From the kids at camp. He delights in the expression (perhaps because it rattles us) though he often uses the malapropism “What a heck?”
One day after I picked him up from soccer camp he told me how he saw an older boy pour some water on his face and then wipe himself with a towel, so he did the same thing. He told me how some people wear shin guards and some don’t, even though they’re all supposed to. I’m so impressed with his observations; I feel like, somehow, all this traveling back and forth invites him to notice and articulate difference. He very consciously studies and mimics the behavior he observes in other kids. I am fairly sure that at that age I was also acutely aware of my differences and did a lot of mimicking, but I don’t think I could articulate it the way that he can. Part of that may be the difference in the way we were trained to see the world; I attributed difference to some failure of understanding on my part; he has learned to distinguish language and rules (and name then as different) since he was a small child. He’s also mimicking the way KC and I talk as we move through these spaces and observe the people, the landscape, and the systems.
His observation of difference was occurring back in Korea as well. First grade has been a real challenge; as I noted in an earlier post, this year he’s started to become more self-consciously aware of the way that he himself is different (physically, culturally, linguistically, etc.). First grade has been challenging, not because of the work or the new school, necessarily, but because first-graders are so much aware of difference, so much more self-conscious, and so much more articulate. They hear what the older kids say and repeat, appreciating the power of the words but not understanding their effect. We’ve been having problems with teasing, with Aiden’s desk partner and his friends saying things like, “You write so slowly and your handwriting is so bad, you should go back to kindergarten!” Add that to his growing awareness that he is different (physically, linguistically, etc.) and he’s had a bit of a rocky time. He’s pretty even-tempered and he bounces back quickly, and in general he’s a social kid who gets along with everybody, but he is really hurt by the teasing. I had to have some discussions with some of his friends’ moms which felt like training for the diplomatic corps. I told them that I didn’t think (and I do believe this) that no ill-will was meant by the other kids; first-graders don’t seem to have much understanding of point-of-view, or much empathy. Aiden’s own way of communicating that he likes someone and wants to play is to go over and shove that person. He’s such a physical kid. I told him, “Not everybody likes that, they think you’re trying to be mean. I know that’s not what you intended, but that’s how your friends might feel.” So I think the teasing is something like that. His desk partner’s mom said that she tells her daughter, “Your writing is so bad” so that’s probably why her daughter repeats it to Aiden.
But that points to another problem; first-graders in Korea are beginning to feel the academic stress which will shadow them until they enter college. Part of the reason that Aiden gets teased, I think, is because he’s good at English and he can opt out of the system. And the way parents transmit their worries over their children’s academic abilities gets parroted by the kids and gives the kids reasons to channel stress through teasing. I was talking to a mom friend of mine about the teasing and she suggested that I assign Aiden more workbooks to work on his writing. If your kid is falling behind, time to make him practice more, to throw more stuff at him, so that he can be the best -- that’s the attitude. I told her, “No, I won’t do that -- that’s not the point. The point isn’t that he has to be the best at everything, or that he should do more work. He already does his regular homework, his math workbook, his English homework, and his Chinese every day. His writing has improved a lot, and that’s the important thing. I’m not going to add to his stress, or teach him that he can’t be less than perfect at something. I want him to play. I want him to spend time with his brother. I want him to understand that family and friendships are more important than schoolwork. I want him to learn that being a good brother or friend is a skill, and that you have to practice that every day too, just like reading and writing, and that that skills is more important than the others.”
That kid’s mom, my friend (who suggested more workbooks) has 3 boys and I suspect that the second son is stressed out because this year (he’s the same age, same class as Aiden) he’s taking (in addition to school) 6 hours of English a week (not including homework), piano, violin, art, soccer, and various other little things that I don’t know much about (workbooks where the teacher comes and does them or checks them at one’s home). I told my friend, “Don’t you think it’s too much? When does he have time to play?” But she said that even though she knows its hard on him, he can’t fall behind now, and that because they’re going to keep living in Korea she has no choice. I know where she’s coming from, and I can’t really disagree with what she’s saying, but I think it really sucks for the kids and I think in the end its going to have consequences. People think they can throw kids into this and that, adding skills to the kid like fortifying bread. That’s what we’re trying to make here -- fortified kids.
Aiden has been incredibly observant this trip. There’s some kind of budding of consciousness that happens at first grade; suddenly he is acutely aware of difference and able to (sometimes) articulate it. Some of his questions/observations:
1. “Mommy, why do people in the U.S. live in houses while people in Korea live in apartments?”
2. “Mommy, how come there are no sidewalks in the U.S.?”
3. “Why can’t I ride my scooter to the store?” (he’s not used to having to get into the car for every little errand)
4. “Why are all the signs green, on the highway and on the street?”
5. “Wow, stuff in the U.S. is so cheap!”
6. (from the last trip, at the airport, upon being told that he had to stay in the women’s bathroom with me and Max until we were finished because the “rules” are different here) “Mommy, the U.S. is terrible!”
Language that he’s learned:
1. “What the heck?” (Now Max knows it too) I asked, “Where did you learn that?” From the kids at camp. He delights in the expression (perhaps because it rattles us) though he often uses the malapropism “What a heck?”
One day after I picked him up from soccer camp he told me how he saw an older boy pour some water on his face and then wipe himself with a towel, so he did the same thing. He told me how some people wear shin guards and some don’t, even though they’re all supposed to. I’m so impressed with his observations; I feel like, somehow, all this traveling back and forth invites him to notice and articulate difference. He very consciously studies and mimics the behavior he observes in other kids. I am fairly sure that at that age I was also acutely aware of my differences and did a lot of mimicking, but I don’t think I could articulate it the way that he can. Part of that may be the difference in the way we were trained to see the world; I attributed difference to some failure of understanding on my part; he has learned to distinguish language and rules (and name then as different) since he was a small child. He’s also mimicking the way KC and I talk as we move through these spaces and observe the people, the landscape, and the systems.
His observation of difference was occurring back in Korea as well. First grade has been a real challenge; as I noted in an earlier post, this year he’s started to become more self-consciously aware of the way that he himself is different (physically, culturally, linguistically, etc.). First grade has been challenging, not because of the work or the new school, necessarily, but because first-graders are so much aware of difference, so much more self-conscious, and so much more articulate. They hear what the older kids say and repeat, appreciating the power of the words but not understanding their effect. We’ve been having problems with teasing, with Aiden’s desk partner and his friends saying things like, “You write so slowly and your handwriting is so bad, you should go back to kindergarten!” Add that to his growing awareness that he is different (physically, linguistically, etc.) and he’s had a bit of a rocky time. He’s pretty even-tempered and he bounces back quickly, and in general he’s a social kid who gets along with everybody, but he is really hurt by the teasing. I had to have some discussions with some of his friends’ moms which felt like training for the diplomatic corps. I told them that I didn’t think (and I do believe this) that no ill-will was meant by the other kids; first-graders don’t seem to have much understanding of point-of-view, or much empathy. Aiden’s own way of communicating that he likes someone and wants to play is to go over and shove that person. He’s such a physical kid. I told him, “Not everybody likes that, they think you’re trying to be mean. I know that’s not what you intended, but that’s how your friends might feel.” So I think the teasing is something like that. His desk partner’s mom said that she tells her daughter, “Your writing is so bad” so that’s probably why her daughter repeats it to Aiden.
But that points to another problem; first-graders in Korea are beginning to feel the academic stress which will shadow them until they enter college. Part of the reason that Aiden gets teased, I think, is because he’s good at English and he can opt out of the system. And the way parents transmit their worries over their children’s academic abilities gets parroted by the kids and gives the kids reasons to channel stress through teasing. I was talking to a mom friend of mine about the teasing and she suggested that I assign Aiden more workbooks to work on his writing. If your kid is falling behind, time to make him practice more, to throw more stuff at him, so that he can be the best -- that’s the attitude. I told her, “No, I won’t do that -- that’s not the point. The point isn’t that he has to be the best at everything, or that he should do more work. He already does his regular homework, his math workbook, his English homework, and his Chinese every day. His writing has improved a lot, and that’s the important thing. I’m not going to add to his stress, or teach him that he can’t be less than perfect at something. I want him to play. I want him to spend time with his brother. I want him to understand that family and friendships are more important than schoolwork. I want him to learn that being a good brother or friend is a skill, and that you have to practice that every day too, just like reading and writing, and that that skills is more important than the others.”
That kid’s mom, my friend (who suggested more workbooks) has 3 boys and I suspect that the second son is stressed out because this year (he’s the same age, same class as Aiden) he’s taking (in addition to school) 6 hours of English a week (not including homework), piano, violin, art, soccer, and various other little things that I don’t know much about (workbooks where the teacher comes and does them or checks them at one’s home). I told my friend, “Don’t you think it’s too much? When does he have time to play?” But she said that even though she knows its hard on him, he can’t fall behind now, and that because they’re going to keep living in Korea she has no choice. I know where she’s coming from, and I can’t really disagree with what she’s saying, but I think it really sucks for the kids and I think in the end its going to have consequences. People think they can throw kids into this and that, adding skills to the kid like fortifying bread. That’s what we’re trying to make here -- fortified kids.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Frak
You know you've been watching too much Battlestar Galactica when...
1. You have dreams in which there are multiple copies of people you know in real life.
2. You spend time wondering if Kara Thrace is a cylon (I haven't gotten to the end of season 3 yet so please, so spoilers)
3. You find yourself saying things like, "Do you have a frakking problem with that?"
4. You neglect your blog.
Speaking of TV shows, I mentioned a while back that I was into that drama "Surgeon BongDarHee." Apparently it is based on Grey's Anatomy, which I haven't seen. My Chinese teacher who got me into BongDarHee was going through withdrawal and started watching Grey's Anatomy, only to be shocked by all the sex. Her description went something like, "So in the first episode, one of the blonde doctors and the brown haired main doctor sleep together, and then they find out that they're working at the same hospital. And then later some other doctors sleep together and spread a venereal disease. And then that doctor sleeps with someone else at the hospital... Jennifer, do doctors in the U.S. really have that much sex?"
Meanwhile, I'm watching BongDarHee and thinking, "Do people in Korea really wait this long before kissing? That might explain the popularity of the cold pool at the public bath..."
Our various cultural expectations of the role and prominence of physical affection are quite different.
Monsoon season has begun in Korea. The floor of our apartment is vaguely sticky, and I'm not sure if that's because of the humidity or something one of the kids spilled. Laundry doesn't dry properly. I find myself wanting to take multiple showers a day. The boys have all sorts of guck accumulating underneath their chins, in their underarms, and in other chubby spots. All of our umbrellas are somewhat dysfunctional, since they also serve as swords, canes, missiles, etc. Aiden's shoes emit a strange and unpleasant odor.
Anyway, my class is finally over and printculture is on a break so I thought I would have lots of time to get stuff done but it hasn't worked out that way. I did submit something for the next issue of Multicultural Living, so if you haven't subscribed, get on it! It is a great magazine. I'm in the midst of a bunch of other projects and trying to prepare for our next U.S. trip (involves getting us all up-to-date on our vaccinations, cavities, haircuts, etc. and preparing all the gifts). So sorry for the dearth of posts lately, but one of these days I'll get on it.
And more importantly, I need to get caught up on Baltar's frakking trial.
1. You have dreams in which there are multiple copies of people you know in real life.
2. You spend time wondering if Kara Thrace is a cylon (I haven't gotten to the end of season 3 yet so please, so spoilers)
3. You find yourself saying things like, "Do you have a frakking problem with that?"
4. You neglect your blog.
Speaking of TV shows, I mentioned a while back that I was into that drama "Surgeon BongDarHee." Apparently it is based on Grey's Anatomy, which I haven't seen. My Chinese teacher who got me into BongDarHee was going through withdrawal and started watching Grey's Anatomy, only to be shocked by all the sex. Her description went something like, "So in the first episode, one of the blonde doctors and the brown haired main doctor sleep together, and then they find out that they're working at the same hospital. And then later some other doctors sleep together and spread a venereal disease. And then that doctor sleeps with someone else at the hospital... Jennifer, do doctors in the U.S. really have that much sex?"
Meanwhile, I'm watching BongDarHee and thinking, "Do people in Korea really wait this long before kissing? That might explain the popularity of the cold pool at the public bath..."
Our various cultural expectations of the role and prominence of physical affection are quite different.
Monsoon season has begun in Korea. The floor of our apartment is vaguely sticky, and I'm not sure if that's because of the humidity or something one of the kids spilled. Laundry doesn't dry properly. I find myself wanting to take multiple showers a day. The boys have all sorts of guck accumulating underneath their chins, in their underarms, and in other chubby spots. All of our umbrellas are somewhat dysfunctional, since they also serve as swords, canes, missiles, etc. Aiden's shoes emit a strange and unpleasant odor.
Anyway, my class is finally over and printculture is on a break so I thought I would have lots of time to get stuff done but it hasn't worked out that way. I did submit something for the next issue of Multicultural Living, so if you haven't subscribed, get on it! It is a great magazine. I'm in the midst of a bunch of other projects and trying to prepare for our next U.S. trip (involves getting us all up-to-date on our vaccinations, cavities, haircuts, etc. and preparing all the gifts). So sorry for the dearth of posts lately, but one of these days I'll get on it.
And more importantly, I need to get caught up on Baltar's frakking trial.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
city spaces and spacing out
I feel like May has been one long, panting sprint to some moving finish line. Deadlines, commitments, birthdays, read this write that plan this fix that. The weather has been warm for a month and I haven't taken out the summer clothes yet -- I know it will be a whole day project, involving complete upheaval of our already-messy apartment, much dust, more lego pieces missing, and agonizing over what to throw away. I need to keep throwing away, paring down our lives and our selves before moving again. A little every month. So my kids have been running around in clothes that are way too tight and short, and I'm sweating through the weather in jeans and long-sleeve shirts. We're on the cusp of the mass migration of ex-pats back to the U.S. as well, so I need to fit in all my social engagements -- just as important as all the others.
Me: Can you watch the kids on thursday? We're having mom's night out.
KC: Didn't you just have mom's night out last week?
Me: That was a different set of moms.
KC: geez, how many sets are there?
Me: How many rounds of golf have you played lately?
KC: ...OK, I'll watch the kids.
But... I'm really enjoying my life right now. People to meet, stacks of things to read, articles to write, kids growing like weeds, sword-fighting right and left.
I've been writing/thinking a lot about space lately, though not to any sense of completion. I am discovering that I am a very very slow writer. As usual, I went through a bunch of drafts on themes related to city spaces, trying to find some central tie to pull them all together. Short for time, I posted something short on printculture, intending to come back to the topic. But we've decided to take a breather over there, which will allow me to catch up a little on my other commitments...
Anyway, here are some discarded parts of a post on reading space that I haven't pulled together... but I like these paragraphs.
My apartment door slams behind me and I hear the beep of the automatic lock as my feet find their rhythm along the stained tile floor of the hall. I sidle past my neighbor’s open door, inhaling the steam from cooking rice. Open on one side, the hall is actually a long balcony framed by trees (and attracting mosquitos) which do not block out the shrieks of traffic and excitement from the playground below. Down I go through the shaded stairwell, my body dispersing the lingering cigarette smoke, past ads for private lessons and a public service notice advising people not to send their kids to buy cigarettes for them. I cut through the playground to get to the main road, saying “hi,” to the children there -- I’ve taught many of them at one point or another. Stepping over the short fence I pause to shake the sand out of my shoes. Before crossing over the entrance to the parking lot I peer around all the illegally parked cars, half on and half off the sidewalk, leaning into the street as if listening for some secret tale only pavement can tell. A scooter zips by me; the driver carries a metal box full of take-out Chinese in one hand (probably jajangmyun), weaving through pedestrians and traffic with his cellphone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.
I enter the streams of people along the main sidewalk. Although my size, shape, dress, and coloring don’t set me apart from anyone else, my walk marks me as an American -- long stride, fast pace, ain’t nothin’ gonna slow me down. Being aware of one’s space is a skill city dwellers need to have, but some never acquire it -- a kind of spatial tone deafness. Those are the people clogging up the sidewalk or weaving so it is impossible to pass. But movement in Seoul has a vocabulary of its own -- a gentle push or nudge to one side is a perfectly acceptable way of regulating space hogs. Even while seeming oblivious to others’ spatial needs (some people, I suspect, hog the sidewalk on purpose) one must be vigilant for sudden scooters and other threats.
Scooter drivers are the grand masters of city space: able to find holes in the crowded sidewalks and having an intimate knowledge of the fastest flight plan through apartment blocks, heavy traffic, rivers, and other obstacles. They seem to obey no laws -- man-made or physical. Having mastered the timing of traffic signals, they fly across the intersection between the time one light turns red and the next turns green, balancing delicate cargo, cellphone, and umbrella, leaving the street to take to the sidewalk, sand, or other rideable space. If they are the grand masters, though, I am a grasshopper, still learning how to read city spaces, overwhelmed by the signeage, stumbling over cracks in the pavement, distracted by the bombardment of light, color, sound, and smell.
I look down at my feet. The pavement is a palimpsest of city life, mottled by different shades of asphalt patches, small puddles of spit, vomit decomposing in the sun, a discarded ice cream wrapper, and police markings from the last scooter accident: “head,” “legs,” “motorcycle.” In a walking city, the quality of curbs marks the status of the neighborhood -- the more uneven and weedy, the poorer the district.
and more:
It took me two years to get used to living in Seoul, to reach the state where small parts of daily life become invisible, to relax my grip and my constant apprehension. Two years to feel like I wasn’t drowning in the overwhelming unfamiliarity of the city. And now I find myself at the point where I take things for granted to the extent that I forget that they are unusual; or I know that they are unusual but can’t explain why. But some switch has been thrown in my mind as I think about leaving, and I can stand back and try to catalogue my life here while I still have the opportunity.
There’s something about the way we navigate and read city spaces here which I can’t quite get at. Part of it is the grammar of movement -- the way you have to visually parse the space differently as you drive, walk, and park. You anticipate and plot the trajectories of other objects (cars, scooters, pedestrians) as you move; you communicate your presence through honks, blinking hazard lights, gentle pushes. The hazard light is its own little genre here. Cut in front of someone and use it to say, “hey, thanks for letting me in and sorry about that.” -- like the wave of a hand in the U.S. If the traffic slows suddenly it means, “look out! Slow down immediately! Something’s going on up ahead!” In the garages of big department stores, blinking hazards mean “trying to park” rather than “trying to exit,” aiding the legions of parking lot assistants to direct the cars properly. Pulled over on the side of the road it means, “Yes I know I am parked illegally but I don’t really give a damn, just get over it and go around.”
Me: Can you watch the kids on thursday? We're having mom's night out.
KC: Didn't you just have mom's night out last week?
Me: That was a different set of moms.
KC: geez, how many sets are there?
Me: How many rounds of golf have you played lately?
KC: ...OK, I'll watch the kids.
But... I'm really enjoying my life right now. People to meet, stacks of things to read, articles to write, kids growing like weeds, sword-fighting right and left.
I've been writing/thinking a lot about space lately, though not to any sense of completion. I am discovering that I am a very very slow writer. As usual, I went through a bunch of drafts on themes related to city spaces, trying to find some central tie to pull them all together. Short for time, I posted something short on printculture, intending to come back to the topic. But we've decided to take a breather over there, which will allow me to catch up a little on my other commitments...
Anyway, here are some discarded parts of a post on reading space that I haven't pulled together... but I like these paragraphs.
My apartment door slams behind me and I hear the beep of the automatic lock as my feet find their rhythm along the stained tile floor of the hall. I sidle past my neighbor’s open door, inhaling the steam from cooking rice. Open on one side, the hall is actually a long balcony framed by trees (and attracting mosquitos) which do not block out the shrieks of traffic and excitement from the playground below. Down I go through the shaded stairwell, my body dispersing the lingering cigarette smoke, past ads for private lessons and a public service notice advising people not to send their kids to buy cigarettes for them. I cut through the playground to get to the main road, saying “hi,” to the children there -- I’ve taught many of them at one point or another. Stepping over the short fence I pause to shake the sand out of my shoes. Before crossing over the entrance to the parking lot I peer around all the illegally parked cars, half on and half off the sidewalk, leaning into the street as if listening for some secret tale only pavement can tell. A scooter zips by me; the driver carries a metal box full of take-out Chinese in one hand (probably jajangmyun), weaving through pedestrians and traffic with his cellphone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.
I enter the streams of people along the main sidewalk. Although my size, shape, dress, and coloring don’t set me apart from anyone else, my walk marks me as an American -- long stride, fast pace, ain’t nothin’ gonna slow me down. Being aware of one’s space is a skill city dwellers need to have, but some never acquire it -- a kind of spatial tone deafness. Those are the people clogging up the sidewalk or weaving so it is impossible to pass. But movement in Seoul has a vocabulary of its own -- a gentle push or nudge to one side is a perfectly acceptable way of regulating space hogs. Even while seeming oblivious to others’ spatial needs (some people, I suspect, hog the sidewalk on purpose) one must be vigilant for sudden scooters and other threats.
Scooter drivers are the grand masters of city space: able to find holes in the crowded sidewalks and having an intimate knowledge of the fastest flight plan through apartment blocks, heavy traffic, rivers, and other obstacles. They seem to obey no laws -- man-made or physical. Having mastered the timing of traffic signals, they fly across the intersection between the time one light turns red and the next turns green, balancing delicate cargo, cellphone, and umbrella, leaving the street to take to the sidewalk, sand, or other rideable space. If they are the grand masters, though, I am a grasshopper, still learning how to read city spaces, overwhelmed by the signeage, stumbling over cracks in the pavement, distracted by the bombardment of light, color, sound, and smell.
I look down at my feet. The pavement is a palimpsest of city life, mottled by different shades of asphalt patches, small puddles of spit, vomit decomposing in the sun, a discarded ice cream wrapper, and police markings from the last scooter accident: “head,” “legs,” “motorcycle.” In a walking city, the quality of curbs marks the status of the neighborhood -- the more uneven and weedy, the poorer the district.
and more:
It took me two years to get used to living in Seoul, to reach the state where small parts of daily life become invisible, to relax my grip and my constant apprehension. Two years to feel like I wasn’t drowning in the overwhelming unfamiliarity of the city. And now I find myself at the point where I take things for granted to the extent that I forget that they are unusual; or I know that they are unusual but can’t explain why. But some switch has been thrown in my mind as I think about leaving, and I can stand back and try to catalogue my life here while I still have the opportunity.
There’s something about the way we navigate and read city spaces here which I can’t quite get at. Part of it is the grammar of movement -- the way you have to visually parse the space differently as you drive, walk, and park. You anticipate and plot the trajectories of other objects (cars, scooters, pedestrians) as you move; you communicate your presence through honks, blinking hazard lights, gentle pushes. The hazard light is its own little genre here. Cut in front of someone and use it to say, “hey, thanks for letting me in and sorry about that.” -- like the wave of a hand in the U.S. If the traffic slows suddenly it means, “look out! Slow down immediately! Something’s going on up ahead!” In the garages of big department stores, blinking hazards mean “trying to park” rather than “trying to exit,” aiding the legions of parking lot assistants to direct the cars properly. Pulled over on the side of the road it means, “Yes I know I am parked illegally but I don’t really give a damn, just get over it and go around.”
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
character sketch
We had to write a character sketch in 500 words for that class I'm taking... here is mine.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
identity crisis
First I have to say that I am aware I have been tagged by Corey... and I have not yet come up with my list of 5 blogs. I have to think about that for a while... stay tuned...
I feel like I have so many updates. We got back from our trip to Shanghi last week. I was writing something about visiting schools and then the Virginia Tech shooting happened, and I was busy reading about the reactions both here and in the U.S. Over at Printculture we had an interesting discussion, started by S L Kim, and I tried to provide some context from here. That was difficult for many reasons -- partly because I have lived here for long enough that many things about this place have become invisible or just, somehow, logical to me. And it is always difficult to talk about race/ethnicity.
Anyway... Shanghai. We looked at two schools, one bilingual English/Chinese and one Korean. The Korean school was much cheaper (because it is a real Korean school funded by the Korean government, using the same standard textbooks, etc.) and similar to Aiden's current school in terms of curriculum and protocol, plus they do an hour of Chinese and an hour of English each day. The Korean school, Singaporean school, Taiwanese school, American school, and British school are all basically in the same place, near Hongqiao airport, which (I didn't realize) is quite far -- a good 40 minute bus ride. So he'd be spending a lot of time on the bus. The other school we looked at is Yew Cheng (I have to check the spelling but its close) which, location-wise, is much better. The facility is very nice. The teachers seem good and the kids are very international -- each class has quite a mix. Quite expensive. Each class has an English-speaking teacher and a Chinese-speaking teacher and they have something like 30% of the day doing Chinese.
Anyway, I was debating the pros and cons of these schools and my better half said, "If we're going to send him to Korean school we might as well stay in Korea and send him to Chinese lessons, or just come to Shanghai for the summer. What's the point of moving then?" He was right. Our goal is a linguistic and cultural one. So, to make a long story short, we decided to send him to local school. Perhaps a private local school, but a local school nonetheless. Shanghai actually has several local international schools -- these are Chinese schools with an international class, so the kids go into the international class first (like an ESL class), until they can join the regular class. I need to research more about which school, but basically the big decision is made. Local school. Chinese. (If anyone reading this has experience sending kids to school in Shanghai, or knows of a good Shanghai blogger, let me know!)
In the midst of this decision and all the cleaning, etc. at Aiden's school I'm writing a post for printculture about the ways in which sending Aiden to local school here has tied us into the social system in unexpected ways. At least -- I think that's what it is about. Still working on it. Even though all this cleaning stuff is a little annoying and more than a little amusing, I really have learned a lot from participating in the local school at that level, getting to know the moms, and being tied into the infrastructure of education here. I think I've learned more than Aiden has. Now I'm going to have to do it again....
Last week, though, something interesting happened. I was walking Aiden home from school along the river and trying to explain to him about "point of view." (The long story around this is I was doing some behavioral engineering, trying to prepare him for our move and for making new friends, by complimenting the way he is so good at making friends because he is good at seeing other people's points of view...anyway.) All the sudden he said, "Shh Mommy! Be quiet!" A man had been walking near us. As soon as the man was out of earshot Aiden said, "OK, you can talk now."
I was confused. What was that all about? He was already back into his game of not getting electrocuted by jumping over all the cracks and bumps in the sidewalk. I pressed him. "Why did you ask me to be quiet?" "Because you're speaking ENGLISH, Mommy. This is Korea!" I pressed him some more and got "It's embarrassing." But why is it embarrassing? He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to talk about Darth Vader. I kept at him. "Because then they ask me, 'Are you American or are you Korean?"
Then I understood. I had created myself -- a kid who didn't fit in and was conscious of his difference. I didn't react that well. I tried to convince him he was special and tell him how envious other people are that he can speak English so well. I reminded him that his friends spend two hours a day in English hakwon while he plays. I told him that I would keep speaking English to him because that is my gift to him -- the languages that he is learning as a child, and that if you don't keep practicing a language you will forget it and have to painfully relearn it. I told him that his grandmother was born in Japan and no longer can speak Japanese, isn't that sad? He agreed that it was. I reminded him that people will ask him the same questions even if he doesn't speak English, just because of the way he looks. I made quite a sales pitch. I was more than a little upset about the whole thing. I wanted him to see the world the way I see it, conveniently forgetting how long it took me to get to this point.
Then I was talking to Emily later about the whole thing and she suggested that if I validated his feelings instead of trying to argue them away he would still, hopefully, keep telling me how he feels.
A few days later the same scene of being shushed happened again. The day after that Aiden was playing with his grandfather in the playground and some older kid kept saying, "Hey, aren't you American? Speak English! Say something in English!" I guess he was following Aiden around and pestering him. Aiden's kind of shy, he doesn't like being put on the spot like that, and his grandfather berated the kid. I told him later, "They are interested in you because you can speak two languages so easily. But you don't have to speak if you don't want to. Just tell him you don't want to and that's fine." Aiden's come up with his own tactic. When people ask him if he's American or Korean he says, "You don't need to know (몰라도돼)."
I have to think more clearly about how to handle this... I'm not ready for him to be embarrassed by me!
I feel like I have so many updates. We got back from our trip to Shanghi last week. I was writing something about visiting schools and then the Virginia Tech shooting happened, and I was busy reading about the reactions both here and in the U.S. Over at Printculture we had an interesting discussion, started by S L Kim, and I tried to provide some context from here. That was difficult for many reasons -- partly because I have lived here for long enough that many things about this place have become invisible or just, somehow, logical to me. And it is always difficult to talk about race/ethnicity.
Anyway... Shanghai. We looked at two schools, one bilingual English/Chinese and one Korean. The Korean school was much cheaper (because it is a real Korean school funded by the Korean government, using the same standard textbooks, etc.) and similar to Aiden's current school in terms of curriculum and protocol, plus they do an hour of Chinese and an hour of English each day. The Korean school, Singaporean school, Taiwanese school, American school, and British school are all basically in the same place, near Hongqiao airport, which (I didn't realize) is quite far -- a good 40 minute bus ride. So he'd be spending a lot of time on the bus. The other school we looked at is Yew Cheng (I have to check the spelling but its close) which, location-wise, is much better. The facility is very nice. The teachers seem good and the kids are very international -- each class has quite a mix. Quite expensive. Each class has an English-speaking teacher and a Chinese-speaking teacher and they have something like 30% of the day doing Chinese.
Anyway, I was debating the pros and cons of these schools and my better half said, "If we're going to send him to Korean school we might as well stay in Korea and send him to Chinese lessons, or just come to Shanghai for the summer. What's the point of moving then?" He was right. Our goal is a linguistic and cultural one. So, to make a long story short, we decided to send him to local school. Perhaps a private local school, but a local school nonetheless. Shanghai actually has several local international schools -- these are Chinese schools with an international class, so the kids go into the international class first (like an ESL class), until they can join the regular class. I need to research more about which school, but basically the big decision is made. Local school. Chinese. (If anyone reading this has experience sending kids to school in Shanghai, or knows of a good Shanghai blogger, let me know!)
In the midst of this decision and all the cleaning, etc. at Aiden's school I'm writing a post for printculture about the ways in which sending Aiden to local school here has tied us into the social system in unexpected ways. At least -- I think that's what it is about. Still working on it. Even though all this cleaning stuff is a little annoying and more than a little amusing, I really have learned a lot from participating in the local school at that level, getting to know the moms, and being tied into the infrastructure of education here. I think I've learned more than Aiden has. Now I'm going to have to do it again....
Last week, though, something interesting happened. I was walking Aiden home from school along the river and trying to explain to him about "point of view." (The long story around this is I was doing some behavioral engineering, trying to prepare him for our move and for making new friends, by complimenting the way he is so good at making friends because he is good at seeing other people's points of view...anyway.) All the sudden he said, "Shh Mommy! Be quiet!" A man had been walking near us. As soon as the man was out of earshot Aiden said, "OK, you can talk now."
I was confused. What was that all about? He was already back into his game of not getting electrocuted by jumping over all the cracks and bumps in the sidewalk. I pressed him. "Why did you ask me to be quiet?" "Because you're speaking ENGLISH, Mommy. This is Korea!" I pressed him some more and got "It's embarrassing." But why is it embarrassing? He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to talk about Darth Vader. I kept at him. "Because then they ask me, 'Are you American or are you Korean?"
Then I understood. I had created myself -- a kid who didn't fit in and was conscious of his difference. I didn't react that well. I tried to convince him he was special and tell him how envious other people are that he can speak English so well. I reminded him that his friends spend two hours a day in English hakwon while he plays. I told him that I would keep speaking English to him because that is my gift to him -- the languages that he is learning as a child, and that if you don't keep practicing a language you will forget it and have to painfully relearn it. I told him that his grandmother was born in Japan and no longer can speak Japanese, isn't that sad? He agreed that it was. I reminded him that people will ask him the same questions even if he doesn't speak English, just because of the way he looks. I made quite a sales pitch. I was more than a little upset about the whole thing. I wanted him to see the world the way I see it, conveniently forgetting how long it took me to get to this point.
Then I was talking to Emily later about the whole thing and she suggested that if I validated his feelings instead of trying to argue them away he would still, hopefully, keep telling me how he feels.
A few days later the same scene of being shushed happened again. The day after that Aiden was playing with his grandfather in the playground and some older kid kept saying, "Hey, aren't you American? Speak English! Say something in English!" I guess he was following Aiden around and pestering him. Aiden's kind of shy, he doesn't like being put on the spot like that, and his grandfather berated the kid. I told him later, "They are interested in you because you can speak two languages so easily. But you don't have to speak if you don't want to. Just tell him you don't want to and that's fine." Aiden's come up with his own tactic. When people ask him if he's American or Korean he says, "You don't need to know (몰라도돼)."
I have to think more clearly about how to handle this... I'm not ready for him to be embarrassed by me!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
photograph
It has been a busy week. We're back from Shanghai and I will have updates soon about the school situation.
I had here an essay I wrote about this photograph for my writing class, but I have deleted it... after all the good comments I thought I should submit it somewhere. Sorry about that. If you want to read it, send me an e-mail or write me a comment. Thanks -- Jennifer
I had here an essay I wrote about this photograph for my writing class, but I have deleted it... after all the good comments I thought I should submit it somewhere. Sorry about that. If you want to read it, send me an e-mail or write me a comment. Thanks -- Jennifer
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Defensive walking, consumerism, schools
I got this from Cat over at Seoullife.net. I don't know if people who haven't been to Seoul with think this is funny but it made me laugh to watch. The frustrating thing about walking with a child is that children have no sense of space, they don't anticipate the movements of others and move accordingly. But then again, I often think that other people are the same way, especially groups of people walking together. My pet peeve is people walking in a group who take up the whole sidewalk. Since I tend to walk faster than pretty much everyone else, getting stuck behind a pack of slow walkers drives me nuts. Luckily I have grown accustomed to pushing people out of the way. I wonder if there's a YouTube video of that.
I've been sick for the past few days and holed up at home and finally ventured out this morning to run some errands before going to Shanghai tomorrow. When you've been cooped up for a while, your body is still fuzzy from illness, and you haven't been to a shopping mall for several months, it is very surreal and strange to be out and about again. I found myself getting that itch to buy things, looking at plates and pillows and clothes. Good thing I cannot buy housewares because I know we will move again and I don't want any extra stuff. That consumerist bug lives inside me like a parasite and even when I think I've trained it out of my system it surprises me by manifesting its symptoms of greed and desire for shiny things again.
We had our "big cleaning" over the weekend. I meant to take a camera, but on the way out I realized I had left it at home and didn't want to walk back. While I was balanced on the window ledge cleaning the panes of glass with 2 other moms I mentioned that I had wanted to take pictures and the mom next to me looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to explain that my friends in the US think that this whole moms cleaning thing is strange and I wanted to capture what it was like. She didn't say much but it occurred to me that what I find interesting to record may just be a little embarrassing for them.
So... the big cleaning. We met at 12:10, after school finished (on Saturday they don't have lunch at school so they finish earlier). I had already eaten, it didn't occur to me that we would eat together. One mom brought a huge amount of kimpap, some green tea-type drinks, and instant coffee. We sat and ate and talked for a while and I tried to remember who is who (in Korea, you mostly call people by title or affiliation rather than name, so I call Aiden's classmates' moms "so-and-so's mom" rather than by name. That would actually be easier if I knew the names of the kids in Aiden's class but even he doesn't know them, aside from his few close buddies. He must take after me in that respect.) Anyway, they all know me. Everyone had come with rags, cleaning fluid, rubber gloves, etc. except me because I didn't realize I would need to bring those things... but there was enough to go around. We cleaned the heck out of that classroom. We took apart the fans and cleaned the blades. We dismantled the curtains and sent them to the dry cleaners. The windows, which I spent the most time on (because I figured it would occupy a long time and were fairly self-explanatory) spanned the length of the classroom, 3 panes of glass thick. They took a long time. We dusted everything, washed the walls and doors in the hall outside the class, rearranged the books... It took about 2, 2.5 hours. There was a lot of dust, it did need to be cleaned. The other moms were saying they hadn't even done such a thorough cleaning in their own homes. Ha.
Tuesday was my turn at lunch and daily cleaning duty but I was so sick I had to switch with someone else (really, I was really sick!). So I'll have to save that story for Monday. Sandra sent me this article about moms doing this kind of work in Korea. I can definitely relate. For me, this is a temporary thing, and I attend as much from compulsion as from curiosity. I don't know how I would feel if I knew I would be doing this for the next 12 years. Though as far as I can see, in the upper grades the kids clean the classrooms themselves... when I come to the school in the afternoon the older kids are mopping the floors and washing the blackboards.
While we are in Shanghai this trip we will check out the Korean International School there. It is cheaper than the other international schools and I think it may be easier for Aiden to adjust if I keep him in the same kind of system. Plus I want him to maintain his Korean after we move. They do 4 hours of English a week and 3 hours of Chinese at that school, which I like very much (it is very important to me that he learn Chinese). So perhaps I will be cleaning classrooms for a few more years yet...
I've been sick for the past few days and holed up at home and finally ventured out this morning to run some errands before going to Shanghai tomorrow. When you've been cooped up for a while, your body is still fuzzy from illness, and you haven't been to a shopping mall for several months, it is very surreal and strange to be out and about again. I found myself getting that itch to buy things, looking at plates and pillows and clothes. Good thing I cannot buy housewares because I know we will move again and I don't want any extra stuff. That consumerist bug lives inside me like a parasite and even when I think I've trained it out of my system it surprises me by manifesting its symptoms of greed and desire for shiny things again.
We had our "big cleaning" over the weekend. I meant to take a camera, but on the way out I realized I had left it at home and didn't want to walk back. While I was balanced on the window ledge cleaning the panes of glass with 2 other moms I mentioned that I had wanted to take pictures and the mom next to me looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to explain that my friends in the US think that this whole moms cleaning thing is strange and I wanted to capture what it was like. She didn't say much but it occurred to me that what I find interesting to record may just be a little embarrassing for them.
So... the big cleaning. We met at 12:10, after school finished (on Saturday they don't have lunch at school so they finish earlier). I had already eaten, it didn't occur to me that we would eat together. One mom brought a huge amount of kimpap, some green tea-type drinks, and instant coffee. We sat and ate and talked for a while and I tried to remember who is who (in Korea, you mostly call people by title or affiliation rather than name, so I call Aiden's classmates' moms "so-and-so's mom" rather than by name. That would actually be easier if I knew the names of the kids in Aiden's class but even he doesn't know them, aside from his few close buddies. He must take after me in that respect.) Anyway, they all know me. Everyone had come with rags, cleaning fluid, rubber gloves, etc. except me because I didn't realize I would need to bring those things... but there was enough to go around. We cleaned the heck out of that classroom. We took apart the fans and cleaned the blades. We dismantled the curtains and sent them to the dry cleaners. The windows, which I spent the most time on (because I figured it would occupy a long time and were fairly self-explanatory) spanned the length of the classroom, 3 panes of glass thick. They took a long time. We dusted everything, washed the walls and doors in the hall outside the class, rearranged the books... It took about 2, 2.5 hours. There was a lot of dust, it did need to be cleaned. The other moms were saying they hadn't even done such a thorough cleaning in their own homes. Ha.
Tuesday was my turn at lunch and daily cleaning duty but I was so sick I had to switch with someone else (really, I was really sick!). So I'll have to save that story for Monday. Sandra sent me this article about moms doing this kind of work in Korea. I can definitely relate. For me, this is a temporary thing, and I attend as much from compulsion as from curiosity. I don't know how I would feel if I knew I would be doing this for the next 12 years. Though as far as I can see, in the upper grades the kids clean the classrooms themselves... when I come to the school in the afternoon the older kids are mopping the floors and washing the blackboards.
While we are in Shanghai this trip we will check out the Korean International School there. It is cheaper than the other international schools and I think it may be easier for Aiden to adjust if I keep him in the same kind of system. Plus I want him to maintain his Korean after we move. They do 4 hours of English a week and 3 hours of Chinese at that school, which I like very much (it is very important to me that he learn Chinese). So perhaps I will be cleaning classrooms for a few more years yet...
Thursday, April 05, 2007
elementary ecosystems
See Jennifer cut out strips of paper and paste them in a notebook.
See Jennifer clean the classroom.
See Jennifer serve lunch to hungry 1st graders.
Run, Jennifer, run!
Ah, yes, welcome to school in Korea. Each class here is, as my friend Becky says, its own "ecosystem," self-contained and self-supporting. Which means, in practice, that the moms do everything. The last few weeks have been full of stressful meetings to determine who will be the class leader (mom, not child), who will serve in the crossing guard corps, who will serve as a volunteer teacher (that's me), who will make the rotation delegating lunch-serving and daily classroom-cleaning duties, etc. As we gather each afternoon (they're finally having lunch at school now, whahoo!) to wait for our children to emerge, the moms from each class huddle together to reveal that classes 1, 2, and 3 have already done their "big cleaning" of the class, and we're looking bad because we haven't done one yet. This is followed by a flurry of pronouncements and text messages to the effect that everyone better show up on Saturday after class (because we have class on Saturday) for the "big cleaning," and someone needs to bring equipment. I haven't done any cleaning yet so I'm not sure what this entails, but since it is supposed to take at least an hour and utilize all the moms who come (of 29 in a class, how many will that be?), we must be cleaning every nook and cranny of that classroom. I will try to take some pictures.
I had my first volunteer teaching class today. You can choose what you want to teach, so naturally I am teaching English conversation. I have 18 6th graders; some of them speak quite well and have lived abroad and some are less comfortable with English. I'm used to teaching little kids (between 2 and 8) so this was a nice change. I asked them what kinds of topics they wanted to talk about, and got everything from euthanasia and the death penalty to computer games and whether they should be required to go to school on Saturdays. For the first class we played "two truths and a lie," and then I broke them into two sides and had them debate why one should or shouldn't learn another language. It seems like a silly question here where everyone takes as a given that learning a language, especially English, is important and useful. But in the U.S. it is not so obvious. I asked them to pretend they were trying to convince me to learn Korean (or not to bother). I wanted them to think about the various costs, benefits, and motivations to learning a language, and to consider all the different kinds of ways and in what environments one might use a language. It was a lively and interesting discussion. Then I asked them to talk about what were the most useful methods for learning a language. I'll be teaching them twice a month for a year.
Between all these new little tasks and duties I have I feel a little frazzled each day. Aiden comes home from school with his assignment book in which he has painstakingly recorded all his homework assignments, the items he needs to prepare for class, and any other messages from the teacher, all of which are completely illegible. I then spend an hour or so calling other moms from his class, trying to collectively decipher our children's handwriting and figure out exactly what the teacher wants. (I have learned to call the parents of the girls in the class; they tend to have better handwriting.) The other day not only did I not understand what he had written, but then once I found out what the assignment was I found that he had brought home the wrong book. He was supposed to look at the pictures in some book and make up a story to go with them. Aiden's friend's mom was kind enough to explain each picture to me, and then she took photos of the pictures with her cellphone camera and e-mailed them to me. Quite a bit of mommy ingenuity. Luckily my husband came home early so I could make a last-minute dash to the 문방구 (kind of like a office supply/stationary store) to buy Aiden a P.E. outfit. There are always things on his assignment sheet that I need to acquire before class the next day which I find quite annoying. But now I understand why these stores open so early in the morning.
Things are only going to get crazier. I just posted my response to Mallon's silly questions for the discussion we've been having over at printculture, not as well-edited as usual, and I couldn't come up with a good title. A few of the really cool bloggers (I won't say who they are because I haven't asked them if its ok) and I have formed a writing group, which I'm really excited about, and my online class starts next week. And it just occurred to me that we only have about a year before moving to Shanghai, so I'd better get off my ass and start planning the move. Or at least put Aiden on a waiting list for school. Any Shanghai ex-pat bloggers out there who want to give me some advice?
See Jennifer clean the classroom.
See Jennifer serve lunch to hungry 1st graders.
Run, Jennifer, run!
Ah, yes, welcome to school in Korea. Each class here is, as my friend Becky says, its own "ecosystem," self-contained and self-supporting. Which means, in practice, that the moms do everything. The last few weeks have been full of stressful meetings to determine who will be the class leader (mom, not child), who will serve in the crossing guard corps, who will serve as a volunteer teacher (that's me), who will make the rotation delegating lunch-serving and daily classroom-cleaning duties, etc. As we gather each afternoon (they're finally having lunch at school now, whahoo!) to wait for our children to emerge, the moms from each class huddle together to reveal that classes 1, 2, and 3 have already done their "big cleaning" of the class, and we're looking bad because we haven't done one yet. This is followed by a flurry of pronouncements and text messages to the effect that everyone better show up on Saturday after class (because we have class on Saturday) for the "big cleaning," and someone needs to bring equipment. I haven't done any cleaning yet so I'm not sure what this entails, but since it is supposed to take at least an hour and utilize all the moms who come (of 29 in a class, how many will that be?), we must be cleaning every nook and cranny of that classroom. I will try to take some pictures.
I had my first volunteer teaching class today. You can choose what you want to teach, so naturally I am teaching English conversation. I have 18 6th graders; some of them speak quite well and have lived abroad and some are less comfortable with English. I'm used to teaching little kids (between 2 and 8) so this was a nice change. I asked them what kinds of topics they wanted to talk about, and got everything from euthanasia and the death penalty to computer games and whether they should be required to go to school on Saturdays. For the first class we played "two truths and a lie," and then I broke them into two sides and had them debate why one should or shouldn't learn another language. It seems like a silly question here where everyone takes as a given that learning a language, especially English, is important and useful. But in the U.S. it is not so obvious. I asked them to pretend they were trying to convince me to learn Korean (or not to bother). I wanted them to think about the various costs, benefits, and motivations to learning a language, and to consider all the different kinds of ways and in what environments one might use a language. It was a lively and interesting discussion. Then I asked them to talk about what were the most useful methods for learning a language. I'll be teaching them twice a month for a year.
Between all these new little tasks and duties I have I feel a little frazzled each day. Aiden comes home from school with his assignment book in which he has painstakingly recorded all his homework assignments, the items he needs to prepare for class, and any other messages from the teacher, all of which are completely illegible. I then spend an hour or so calling other moms from his class, trying to collectively decipher our children's handwriting and figure out exactly what the teacher wants. (I have learned to call the parents of the girls in the class; they tend to have better handwriting.) The other day not only did I not understand what he had written, but then once I found out what the assignment was I found that he had brought home the wrong book. He was supposed to look at the pictures in some book and make up a story to go with them. Aiden's friend's mom was kind enough to explain each picture to me, and then she took photos of the pictures with her cellphone camera and e-mailed them to me. Quite a bit of mommy ingenuity. Luckily my husband came home early so I could make a last-minute dash to the 문방구 (kind of like a office supply/stationary store) to buy Aiden a P.E. outfit. There are always things on his assignment sheet that I need to acquire before class the next day which I find quite annoying. But now I understand why these stores open so early in the morning.
Things are only going to get crazier. I just posted my response to Mallon's silly questions for the discussion we've been having over at printculture, not as well-edited as usual, and I couldn't come up with a good title. A few of the really cool bloggers (I won't say who they are because I haven't asked them if its ok) and I have formed a writing group, which I'm really excited about, and my online class starts next week. And it just occurred to me that we only have about a year before moving to Shanghai, so I'd better get off my ass and start planning the move. Or at least put Aiden on a waiting list for school. Any Shanghai ex-pat bloggers out there who want to give me some advice?
Friday, March 30, 2007
In which I upload the pictures on my camera
Spring has arrived, the winter clothes are sitting in a pile near the door because I can't find a box and don't want to mess with the pile of suitcases in our one closet...In honor of the idea of spring cleaning I'm finally uploading some pictures.First, here's the kind of homework the kids do in first grade here:I took this shot because I was telling people how the main difference I saw in preschool here and in the U.S. was much more emphasis on developing muscles for writing here. When Aiden entered preschool they did a lot of tracing, cutting out shapes, etc. -- and told me his arm muscles were much weaker than the other kids (which I have no doubt is true, even now, because he doesn't like to draw).
Now these are pictures of Yellow Dust: on the car and in the sky. The sky was really hazy for the last few days, and you could see the dust on the cars. I had pretty bad headaches for those few days too, not sure if that was related to the dust. Many people wore masks. 
Here's another shot of the river near where we live, and the hazy sky above it. 
The next shot is of the chickens, rabbits, and guinea fowl they keep at Aiden's school. It didn't come out very well. 
Then a shot of the school itself.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Bunco Party
Well, I've been trying to write something about the bunco party I attended -- whoa-- almost 2 months ago. As some of you who read multiple Korea blogs, I met fellow blogger Sandra there. Browsing through the blogs written by people attending bunco parties, it seems that these all start with a disclaimer along the lines of "I thought these parties were for losers but went and had fun!" I wanted to write about isolation and its countermeasures, about the ways in which people hold the world together through little acts. So I went through a bunch of drafts in essay form and it was... shitty. I happened to be reading Mrs. Dalloway at the same time, and somehow this turned into fiction. So here's my disclaimer: this is my first piece of fiction, and all the characters are at least partially made up, or they are amalgams of several people. I'd appreciate any feedback! The Bunco Party
And THANKS to Becky, Nicki, Sandra, and Emily for their comments and help with this!
And THANKS to Becky, Nicki, Sandra, and Emily for their comments and help with this!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Korean dramas and titles
We've been here almost four years now and I'm finally getting into one of those dramas. I usually only watch them with my mother-in-law because I can't stand those 김하늘 같은 징그러운 여자들... those women who simper and act frail and weak. Can't. stand. them. But my Chinese teacher is obsessed with the drama 외과선생님봉달희 (Surgeon Bong Dar Hee). It is sort of an ER type drama about doctors and various love triangles and complications. It has some moments which drive me a little crazy, like when one husband and wife unite the husband takes his wife back by talking about the things he wants to eat... I guess I'm conditioned by American TV and film to expect passionate embraces and falling into bed. At least some kissing! Come on! Anyway, I've only been watching for a few weeks. But the scene I just watched was hysterical; the main characters finally went out on a date (to the movies) but in them middle of the movie they are all paged back to the hospital. Leaving the theater they run into two residents who are also dating. Then the resident couple make the female of the main couple buy their silence through coffee, beer, and a lot of food. It is a very funny scene. I am not doing it justice here.
This is just the last in a line of things that make people exclaim (including myself) "You are becoming Korean!" I didn't used to like naengmyun, for instance. Now I still don't like mul naengmyun, but I like bibimnaengmyun. Another time I was asking the principal of FYKO about a new English teacher and caught myself asking, "How old is she? Is she married?"
Labels interest me. Sometime last year KC called me "fluent." I was surprised. I imagine fluency as ease and complete understanding somehow. I still have problems with certain kinds of language, and still have a lot to learn. But I get around just fine and can pick up on most nuance. I share Corey's discomfort with the label "bilingual" or "fluent." But I hold onto it as well; I'm proud of how much I have learned, as an adult, in a language that is so different from English.
The label "writer" is also one I have encountered recently. I don't feel that I can really inhabit that label, since I know zilch about writing, and as of yet no one has been willing to actually pay me to write anything, but I do spend most of my free time writing. The other day my friend Emily tacked on a "I shouldn't tell you this because it might end up in one of your essays" and I thought, hmmm... that actually makes me feel like a writer!
I enrolled in an online writing course given by my alma mater. I'm excited but a little nervous about that.
OK, another reason I don't watch these dramas is that someone always dies. In this case I'm worried the main female character is going to die. She has heart trouble... uh oh.
This is just the last in a line of things that make people exclaim (including myself) "You are becoming Korean!" I didn't used to like naengmyun, for instance. Now I still don't like mul naengmyun, but I like bibimnaengmyun. Another time I was asking the principal of FYKO about a new English teacher and caught myself asking, "How old is she? Is she married?"
Labels interest me. Sometime last year KC called me "fluent." I was surprised. I imagine fluency as ease and complete understanding somehow. I still have problems with certain kinds of language, and still have a lot to learn. But I get around just fine and can pick up on most nuance. I share Corey's discomfort with the label "bilingual" or "fluent." But I hold onto it as well; I'm proud of how much I have learned, as an adult, in a language that is so different from English.
The label "writer" is also one I have encountered recently. I don't feel that I can really inhabit that label, since I know zilch about writing, and as of yet no one has been willing to actually pay me to write anything, but I do spend most of my free time writing. The other day my friend Emily tacked on a "I shouldn't tell you this because it might end up in one of your essays" and I thought, hmmm... that actually makes me feel like a writer!
I enrolled in an online writing course given by my alma mater. I'm excited but a little nervous about that.
OK, another reason I don't watch these dramas is that someone always dies. In this case I'm worried the main female character is going to die. She has heart trouble... uh oh.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
toilet humor
Aiden has reached the age at which he delights in the word “fart.” I remember boys being like that when I was young, playing pull-my-finger in the bus. Max does whatever his brother does, so our day is full of conversations like this:
me: What did you do in school today?
A: Fart. [dissolves into giggles]
me: What’s the name of the girl you sit with? [in Korea, kids are paired with a partner (짝) in school, usually of the opposite sex.]
A: Her name is “Fart.” [more giggling. very pleased with himself]
Max: [singing] Do you know the farting man, the farting man, the farting man? Do you know the farting man who lives on drury lane?
I give up. Right now I’d settle for him recognizing that at certain times the fart talk is not appropriate. Like in front of guests, or to his grandparents. But he’s so taken by the word that he loses sight of everything else in his pleasure of being provocative. Choose your battles, right?
Max is pretty much toilet trained now. He hasn’t had an accident in a while, though he still wears a diaper to sleep. This has something to do with the use of M&Ms as bribery -- I mean reward -- and a lot to do with the persistence of his teachers at school. I can’t say enough about how much I love the school he goes to, FYKO. It is a bilingual school, a bit pricey, but I get a discount for teaching there and it is really worth every penny. I can’t imagine teachers in the U.S. teaching kids to potty train the way they have here, dealing with all the messy accidents (I used to have to send him to school with a bag full of extra clothes, and he’d still come back home wearing someone else’s pink socks.
me: What did you do in school today?
A: Fart. [dissolves into giggles]
me: What’s the name of the girl you sit with? [in Korea, kids are paired with a partner (짝) in school, usually of the opposite sex.]
A: Her name is “Fart.” [more giggling. very pleased with himself]
Max: [singing] Do you know the farting man, the farting man, the farting man? Do you know the farting man who lives on drury lane?
I give up. Right now I’d settle for him recognizing that at certain times the fart talk is not appropriate. Like in front of guests, or to his grandparents. But he’s so taken by the word that he loses sight of everything else in his pleasure of being provocative. Choose your battles, right?
Max is pretty much toilet trained now. He hasn’t had an accident in a while, though he still wears a diaper to sleep. This has something to do with the use of M&Ms as bribery -- I mean reward -- and a lot to do with the persistence of his teachers at school. I can’t say enough about how much I love the school he goes to, FYKO. It is a bilingual school, a bit pricey, but I get a discount for teaching there and it is really worth every penny. I can’t imagine teachers in the U.S. teaching kids to potty train the way they have here, dealing with all the messy accidents (I used to have to send him to school with a bag full of extra clothes, and he’d still come back home wearing someone else’s pink socks.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Moving on
I have been a negligent blogger lately. Some scattered things I meant to write about:
Seoul Man, who took the Korea-blogging world by storm last year, is leaving Korea. That’s the problem with being an ex-pat -- people are always leaving. You finally meet someone, you invest in a relationship, and a year later they move on, hopefully to some exotic location so you can plan to visit them. Last year saw the departure of at least 3 friends; this year will see a few more. In some ways I think that ex-pat friendships can become very strong very fast because there’s a sense of being in a special situation that not many people can relate too. But sometimes I think these friendships never get past the acquaintance stage because you know the person (or yourself) isn’t going to be around very long.
So Aiden is in elementary school now. We’ve spent the last two weeks or so preparing. We had to get all his school stuff (backpack, new indoor shoes, new outdoor shoes which are -- holey moley -- the same size as my mother-in-law’s shoes, a desk, crayons, etc.) We had to clean out a room for him to use to study, which took a REALLY long time, and now our “office” is full of discarded toys that I need to donate. But his room is really nice now. He doesn’t sleep in there, just studies. I knew all this was coming, and I knew it would be busy and tedious, but I had trouble getting up the motivation to do all of it. It is March! I can’t get used to associating March with the start of school. It is funny how the seasons trigger such strong memories and associations. No matter where I am or how old I am, the fall reminds me of starting school, makes me want to go out and buy new notebooks, and run in the crisp fall weather (memories of running cross country). With great difficulty and much avoidance and griping we managed to get Aiden set to go to school.
People have been telling me, with a slightly maniacal gleam of the eye, that once your kid goes to elementary school life becomes really difficult and busy for the mom. Moms are expected to help out a lot at the school, cleaning the classroom or serving meals or standing on the street making sure the kids don’t get run over. They also have to run around preparing all the things the kid needs for school each day. Some teachers discriminate based on how much the mom helps or how much money the mom has given the teacher, so there’s a great deal of anxiety about finding out which teacher your kid is assigned to. Plus, so much of future social life depends upon the kids in the class -- elementary school kids bond here in a way that doesn’t happen much in the States. KC still regularly meets his elementary school friends, they have reunions and stuff. Aiden’s friend’s mom (Carol) and I requested that our kids be in the same class, which usually they won’t do, but we argued that because I’m a foreigner and unfamiliar with the school system I would need someone to show me the ropes so that Aiden wouldn’t be a burden on the teacher. They granted our request, and now our kids are in grade 1 class 4 together, with a 50-something female teacher who has a reputation for military-style teaching, low tolerance for troublemakers, and discrimination based on how much the moms help (but not based on money, that’s good). The parents got scolded twice already -- first for hovering around the classroom windows and distracting the kids on the first few days, then for not having sent all the necessary materials on the second day. But watching her talk to the kids, so far I have to say that she seems like a good teacher. She is authoritative and firm but not mean, and the kids seem to like her. She’s one of those very solid looking women you don’t want to mess with -- no lace and coy smiles from her. She wears practical shoes, not heels, and she has a commanding gaze. When the kids came unprepared, she didn’t scold them, she scolded us. That’s fair. It explains why Carol called me in a panic the second morning and warned me: “Don’t forget this and this and this! OK see you later!” Teachers are taken seriously here.
Another strange thing about school here is the graduated start. The first day of school only lasted an hour or so. The second day (which was a Saturday -- another strange thing is that they go to school 2-3 Saturdays a month) was also only an hour (10am to 11am). The next three weeks they only go from 9am to 11am, then after that they finish at noon. So first grade here starts off pretty easy, to let the kids get used to it, I guess. Nevermind that most of these kids have been in school for 3 or more years. Max, for instance, now goes every day even though he’s not quite 3, and his day lasts from 9:30 to 2:20 -- far longer than Aiden. I feel hesitant and ambivalent about sending him so long at such a young age. So far he’s doing well and seems to really like it, and frankly, I enjoy having some time to myself each day, catching up on all my crap.
People move on, kids grow up. Lately Max has been really into playing with Daddy. He walks around the apartment with a toy gun tucked into his pants (and often falling into his pants, since the gun as almost as big as he is) and a blanket tied around his neck (his cape), saying “Daddy! Let’s sword fight!” But then a few minutes later the gun will fall into his pants again and he’ll cry, because he’s still that touchy kid who loses it sometimes. Then will retreat together to cuddle in the bed, him nursing and holding onto me with his chubby finger. He’s still my baby, though if I call him that he corrects me: “No Mommy, I’m a BIG BOY.”
Seoul Man, who took the Korea-blogging world by storm last year, is leaving Korea. That’s the problem with being an ex-pat -- people are always leaving. You finally meet someone, you invest in a relationship, and a year later they move on, hopefully to some exotic location so you can plan to visit them. Last year saw the departure of at least 3 friends; this year will see a few more. In some ways I think that ex-pat friendships can become very strong very fast because there’s a sense of being in a special situation that not many people can relate too. But sometimes I think these friendships never get past the acquaintance stage because you know the person (or yourself) isn’t going to be around very long.
So Aiden is in elementary school now. We’ve spent the last two weeks or so preparing. We had to get all his school stuff (backpack, new indoor shoes, new outdoor shoes which are -- holey moley -- the same size as my mother-in-law’s shoes, a desk, crayons, etc.) We had to clean out a room for him to use to study, which took a REALLY long time, and now our “office” is full of discarded toys that I need to donate. But his room is really nice now. He doesn’t sleep in there, just studies. I knew all this was coming, and I knew it would be busy and tedious, but I had trouble getting up the motivation to do all of it. It is March! I can’t get used to associating March with the start of school. It is funny how the seasons trigger such strong memories and associations. No matter where I am or how old I am, the fall reminds me of starting school, makes me want to go out and buy new notebooks, and run in the crisp fall weather (memories of running cross country). With great difficulty and much avoidance and griping we managed to get Aiden set to go to school.
People have been telling me, with a slightly maniacal gleam of the eye, that once your kid goes to elementary school life becomes really difficult and busy for the mom. Moms are expected to help out a lot at the school, cleaning the classroom or serving meals or standing on the street making sure the kids don’t get run over. They also have to run around preparing all the things the kid needs for school each day. Some teachers discriminate based on how much the mom helps or how much money the mom has given the teacher, so there’s a great deal of anxiety about finding out which teacher your kid is assigned to. Plus, so much of future social life depends upon the kids in the class -- elementary school kids bond here in a way that doesn’t happen much in the States. KC still regularly meets his elementary school friends, they have reunions and stuff. Aiden’s friend’s mom (Carol) and I requested that our kids be in the same class, which usually they won’t do, but we argued that because I’m a foreigner and unfamiliar with the school system I would need someone to show me the ropes so that Aiden wouldn’t be a burden on the teacher. They granted our request, and now our kids are in grade 1 class 4 together, with a 50-something female teacher who has a reputation for military-style teaching, low tolerance for troublemakers, and discrimination based on how much the moms help (but not based on money, that’s good). The parents got scolded twice already -- first for hovering around the classroom windows and distracting the kids on the first few days, then for not having sent all the necessary materials on the second day. But watching her talk to the kids, so far I have to say that she seems like a good teacher. She is authoritative and firm but not mean, and the kids seem to like her. She’s one of those very solid looking women you don’t want to mess with -- no lace and coy smiles from her. She wears practical shoes, not heels, and she has a commanding gaze. When the kids came unprepared, she didn’t scold them, she scolded us. That’s fair. It explains why Carol called me in a panic the second morning and warned me: “Don’t forget this and this and this! OK see you later!” Teachers are taken seriously here.
Another strange thing about school here is the graduated start. The first day of school only lasted an hour or so. The second day (which was a Saturday -- another strange thing is that they go to school 2-3 Saturdays a month) was also only an hour (10am to 11am). The next three weeks they only go from 9am to 11am, then after that they finish at noon. So first grade here starts off pretty easy, to let the kids get used to it, I guess. Nevermind that most of these kids have been in school for 3 or more years. Max, for instance, now goes every day even though he’s not quite 3, and his day lasts from 9:30 to 2:20 -- far longer than Aiden. I feel hesitant and ambivalent about sending him so long at such a young age. So far he’s doing well and seems to really like it, and frankly, I enjoy having some time to myself each day, catching up on all my crap.
People move on, kids grow up. Lately Max has been really into playing with Daddy. He walks around the apartment with a toy gun tucked into his pants (and often falling into his pants, since the gun as almost as big as he is) and a blanket tied around his neck (his cape), saying “Daddy! Let’s sword fight!” But then a few minutes later the gun will fall into his pants again and he’ll cry, because he’s still that touchy kid who loses it sometimes. Then will retreat together to cuddle in the bed, him nursing and holding onto me with his chubby finger. He’s still my baby, though if I call him that he corrects me: “No Mommy, I’m a BIG BOY.”
In medias res
I know, I've been a terrible blogger lately. The kids were on vacation and then Aiden started elementary school. I hit a patch of exhaustion. But they will both be gone for a few hours today so I will post some more. Until then, here is "In medias res."
Monday, February 26, 2007
Liveblogging the Oscars
We're liveblogging the oscars over at Printculture...
snarking and comments welcome!
snarking and comments welcome!
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