I only had one class today, so that helped my mood a little. Also, since my class was at the end of the day, I could spend most of the day catching up on email and talking with friends on AIM. By the end of the day, I was getting pretty bored though, so I decided to start a couple conversation strings on ATEB and see what happened. In one, I posted my lesson plan for next week as a possible way to teach English conversation to kids who can’t even form the sounds, much less recognize them. It’s been downloaded a few times already, so that felt good too.
But then came the victories. First off, my last class of the week went swimmingly. I had them laughing and nodding their heads and repeating and sometimes even spontaneously talking. One girl in particular (I think she’s one of the many Kim’s (김) I see everywhere in Korea…) was overzealous to show how much she wanted to speak English, and thus kept repeating things by accident when I didn’t want her to repeat them. She was good natured about it though. Oh, and for the record, when I showed my students a family picture, about 25% of my students thought my mom was my sister, 50% thought my sister was older than me (which is fair, as she is bigger), and one particularly embarrassed chap thought my sister was my girlfriend, and another even more embarrassed chap thought my sister was my boyfriend, though I think he just got his genders confused. Korean language doesn’t have them, you know.
The second victory came when I asked some of the 선생님 who were leaving the school if they could give me directions to the Post Office. These 선생님I know cannot speak English. At any rate, they offered to drive me to the Post Office instead. Unfortunately, there was construction, so they just said, some in Korean, some in English, “Get out. Turn right. Post Office on right.” Got it. So, I got to go to the post office by myself and fire off a couple of letters to America. (Mom, Dad, Rach – This means keep an eye out for a letter in an orange envelope. There’s a present inside for you. And, yes, Rach, I sent it to your school address. ^^) Money speaks volumes in a foreign country. If you can say, “How much is it?” you can get by with a lot of things survival wise.
The third victory actually came twice (just like I wish Christmas would, or at least Thanksgiving). I decided that since I had such a long walk home from the Post Office anyway, I would try to find a dojang (도장), a Taekwondo school. Actually, there was one in particular I wanted to find—the one that Dana C., the ATE assigned to the hamlet last year, went to. I figured that they would be used to having a foreigner around, and thus more patient with me when I didn’t understand. (This despite the fact that one of the P.E. teacher’s t-shirts at my school proclaims, “Sport—The Universal Language”. All I have to say to that is, “What the snarf does 앞차기 mean? … What? … Front kick? … Front kick. Oh, ok.) So, as I wandered aimlessly, I ran into one of my host sister's friends riding on her moped, which she proudly announced was an “autobai” (autobike or motorcycle). Oh, Konglish! What would I do without you? Anyway, she asked me where I was going, obviously a little surprised to see me so far from the H.S. or home.
“I’m looking for a dojang.”
“A dojang?! Whiche? Whiche?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I know it’s by a blue church.” Blank stare. “A church with a blue roof.”
“Oh!”
She firmly pointed the opposite direction she was going, and I thanked her.
Well, I followed her firm direction to the other end of town, where I noticed there was no blue church, but there was a dojang. Well, I thought to myself, might as well try this one. I walk in and talk to the instructor who is very excited to see me. I proceed to tell him in a very strange form of Korean that I want to learn TKD. I point to a yellowbelt. Find out what days of the week and at what time TKD meets using a calendar and a lot of repetition of hours on the clock. Tell him that’s too early because I have class then. Okay, a later time will do. Ask how much it is. 70,000 won. Check. Wait! For the month. Yes. Ok, check. By the way, did you know Dana? No. No? No. I see. Thank you.
Well, it’s not Dana’s dojang, but it will do, I think to myself. And begin to walk back towards my homestay. And there it is. The blue church. And there it is. The apartment complex where Dana’s dojang is. I walk in and talk to the assistant instructor. Again, in broken Korean:
“I’m the English teacher at the H.S. Did you know Dana?” Yes. “Oh…” So I go through the whole rigmarole again, and even get across that Dana asked me about when he was going to receive the physical belt from his black belt test. So, now I’m signed up for TKD at two dojang, though hopefully the first will get the message that I’m not doing TKD there. I did leave my phone number though, so maybe I’ll get a phone call in Korean saying, “Why aren’t you coming for classes?!” “I’m sorry, I, uh… don’t speak Korean?”
At any rate, TKD meets five days a week, M-F from 6:00-8:00 pm. I always wondered how Dana got his black belt in a year. Two hours a night will do it for you!
Finally, when I came home, I was able, after about 10 minutes of number recitation in both English and Korean, to tell my host father that I signed up for TKD and when it met. This will actually be better for me as far as my homestay situation is concerned. Previously, I’ve had to eat dinner alone because the family does not make it home until 9:15 pm. Mom is working at the store. Baby brother W. is with her. Middle sister R. is at a language institute. Now that I’ll have TKD until 8:00, the father has asked me to come meet the rest of the family in town when I am finished. “But W. abeoji, I sweat very much!” I indicate with hand motions. Oh, well come to the house, take a shower, then come eat with us. “Okay. I understand.” I get to eat with family again. Can I just say, “Joy!”?
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