Monthly Archives: April 2011

“ANIYO!!!”

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I had the privilege and pleasure to be able to skype with my dad last night. His face showed up on my computer screen with a big smile and hair sticking out everywhere (he was so excited to talk to me he didn’t even bother to brush it… or so I like to think). He then informed me he had just gotten back from dropping off my youngest brother at school, high school, man I am so glad that phase of life is behind me!

My dad worked in a factory for 30 years before he retired, however many years ago (4? 5? crap… dad how old are you?), and now he owns his own business. Meaning he is the boss. Meaning he can get up whenever he wants. And yet he still wakes up early every morning to take my lil bro to school because none of us eight other kids had to ride the bus. What a COOL DAD!

In other news… (how is that for a transition Zach?) for those who have already forgotten, we celebrated Easter this past weekend! I know, it feels like it was a really long time ago. Well, let me tell you, getting Good Friday off last week was one of the greatest ways for me to celebrate the resurrection of my Jesus. I took a trip to Jeju Island for the long weekend and couldn’t believe I was still in Korea!

But before that happened we had to celebrate Easter at school right? Thursday afternoon rolls around, and after I take my students to a nearby playground to gather cherry blossoms I can see the kindergarten and first graders out in the field finding eggs they decorated for an Easter egg hunt. Little did I know… (the tale as I interpreted it* from Ms. Wheat,  friend and k4 teacher at my school):

Ms. N (a kindergarten assistant teacher) rushes up to Ms. Wheat right before they are supposed to head to the field. Ms. Wheat had just finished informing her four-year-olds that while they were in P.E. the Easter Bunny came and took their eggs (“Why would he do that?!” little shouts proclaim) and all he left behind was this giant carrot, which she produced from behind her back, for their class pet Ashes (a guinea pig). She then explained that he left them, “out there!” and dramatically pointed to the field, “So we have to go find them!”

“I don’t know what happened in the ten minutes that we placed all the eggs on the field and then came back inside,” Ms. N begins to explain to Ms. Wheat. “But an old ajhussi started picking up all the eggs, taking the youngest kids eggs out of their plastic bags (they had two eggs they painted in a bag to make it easier for them to find) and smashing them. When I got out there he had about 15 eggs in his arms and he wouldn’t give them back to me! I had to get a translator to come outside and make him give them up. So… some of your kids eggs got smashed…”

A slightly disheartened Ms. Wheat took her students out onto our private soccer field to find the eggs, smashed and unsmashed alike. When they got out there she saw two adjumas come onto our field, look down, and see some of the colorful decorated eggs. They looked delighted and started to PICK THEM UP.

“ANIYO!” Ms. Wheat yells NO in Korean and begins to wave her arms at them. They think she means for them to get off the school’s field so they begin to walk away, eggs still in their hands. Exasperated, Ms. Wheat has her teacher assistant (who thankfully, is Korean)  run after them and explain that “No, they cannot take obviously decorated eggs just because they are Korean in Korea and everyone is one big family.” Well… she might not have said those exact words to the two ladies, but she did get the eggs back.

*I made up the dialogue from what I heard from Ms. Wheat

“I want quiet subway ride.”

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Perspectives. It’s all about perspectives. And culture.

A had some really good-looking friends/co-workers show up to her bday dins.

I was heading home last night from a fantastic birthday bash (happy birthday again A!) with a group of friends who live in my area (that area being the area of Seoul no one goes to because we are practically in North Korea). I am being my normal self, talking and laughing, but not TOO loud. Believe it or not, Korea has decreased my volume from REALLY LOUD to LOUD. I just can’t help it that my voice carries okay?

Anyway, someone says something funny (probably me) I laugh, and then some Ahjussi* looks at me through the legs of people (it is not a desolate subway train, meaning other people are making noise too) and says, “I want quiet subway ride.” I smile politely and laugh no more and also tell him that his English is really good (I may have whispered that last part because he scared me). I only did this though because I was with six other friends, normally I let the ‘melody-rag-at-koreans-because-she-speaks-English-at-the-same-volume-as-everyone-else-who-is- speaking-korean-but-gets-shh’ed-all-the-time-because-her-language-isn’t-cared-for-on-public-transportation-and-therefore-people-constantly-try-to-kick-her-off-the-subway’ (okay only once has someone tried to kick me off) show because I just don’t think it’s far that korean girls can scream in their phone -through their hand of course- or old ahjussis and adjumas can yell loudly at each other, but as soon as I say one sentence in English I get “shh’ed!”. The previous rage mentioned usually just involves me saying, “No, I will not stop speaking English just because you don’t like my language or understand what I am saying and you feel the need to stare at me 24/7.” By the time I am in the middle of my rant, which I have maybe give twice (the other times I actually just stop talking) the “shh’ers” are trying to ignore ME.

Back to the story. After the ahjussi sternly stares at me…

BK then wants the others to hear how good this old ahjussi’s English is and offers up chan won (a buck, not really sure if that is how you spell chan won) to whoever can make me laugh. I ask him if I can have the money if I make myself laugh, he denied me. Psshhh, well I am not about to laugh for anyone else then.

About ten minutes later (I am not even TALKING at this point, maybe…?) I see the ahjussi coming towards me, on a mission to correct my devilish ways of making his subway ride noisy, when as fast as Mr. Incredible himself (who is so much cooler than Superman) BK is standing in front of me, blocking him. “You don’t need to talk to her. Just leave her alone.”

“I just want to tell her, that I like quiet subway ride.” Really, this ahjussi’s English was pretty good. He then tries to explain to BK that he has a right to a quiet subway ride, while I apologize in Korean (where did all of my sass go?) and my other friends tell him he is more than welcome to change subway cars…you see in our minds we felt that we have the right to speak in a public place and since there are so many of us it would just be easier for him to step into another car.

At one point BK tells the old man that if we were screaming in Korean he wouldn’t have even noticed us (so true). The ahjussi is trying to get over the fact that BK looks Korean but is speaking English, “You are Korean American?” He seems so surprised. After establishing the fact that yes, BK, was indeed born and raised in America he continues to press upon us his right to a quiet journey on the sub.

And then he got off at the next stop.

No one wants to sit by the foreigners on the subway (no really there were actually people opting to stand...)

*Term for older man/uncle type figure/bus driver/that guy laying on the side of the street with a bottle of Soju in his hand.

I should just title this blog: “Posts about how my students want me to get married. RIGHT NOW.”

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Walking up the stairs coming in from recess my line leader grabs my hand and looks up at me, “Ms. Welton, do you have a boyfriend?” I shake my head (we all know this isn’t an abnormal conversation with my second graders).

“But… why?” she asks in disbelief. Then she pauses for two seconds and continues, “Is it because there aren’t enough Americans here?”

I smiled. “That could have something to do with it.”

“Hmmm… you should go back to Michigan, get married and then come back here,” she decided.

Ooooh. That sounds simple enough!

I finally bought new air fresheners for my classroom. It smells so good in here.

Jerusalem Ministry Presents…

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It’s no secret. Hair has its own personality. REALLY. I would say my hair is almost bipolar. Or it has massive mood swings. Whatever the case may be I really hope it curls nicely today since I have a very limited time to get ready. You see, I have to look gooood tonight, it’s for the children.

Hope to see you there. I will be by the donations, hoping to see you happily give lots of money!!!!!

Mondays are my BEST days.

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Almost every Monday I inwardly groan at the thought of having to drag myself down to Myeong Dong and climb up the steep hill to Namsonwon Children’s Home. I mean, it’s Monday. I just started my week with my almost 3rd graders (as they are now acting) and I just want to sleep since I most likely had a weekend full of graduate school and church activities and NO ROOM for sleeping in.

But. Yes, there is a beautiful but. I go. I get to Namsanwon and I am greeted by the most hilarious, most adorable, 13-year-old boy who can barely say “Hi, how are you?”, but can light up my life with a mischievous grin. I LOVE HARRY (as is his new English name picked out by him, did you know that it means mighty warrior? I didn’t…).

Hanging out with him is literally the highlight of my week. And this past Monday was the MOST fun we have ever had. Normally he comes out of his room forgetting his pencil or English homework he needs to work on and then jokes with me (through his actions) that he doesn’t really need his pencil or homework. Yesterday, however, he came flying out of his room, and slid across the floor with his socks causing him to almost fall, carrying his “English Toolkit” (as we shall call it; folder with worksheets, notebook, and a pencil) and answering, “I am GREAT!” when I asked, “How are you?”.

This is what the beginning of our tutoring session looked like:

he found some masks in the room we were working in...so naturally we all had to get pictures with the masks before we could study any English! Only the other two pictures arent showing up, they keep getting deleted? I had one of me and Jee Young and Hailey... WEIRD.

After the novelty of the masks wore off Harry and I sat down to work. We were going to be playing Pictionary with the other two teachers (who volunteer on Monday nights as well) and their students and I wanted Harry to be prepared (what? just because I had the game and tend to get a bit competitive… nothing wrong with being PREPARED).

Harry was ALL FOR IT, I have never seen him so pumped up and just plain HAPPY.

Here is what our study sess looked like:

Harry was all about practicing his pictionary skills so we could kick everyone elses butt... (what? I am NOT competitve)

a SWEET looking crocodile!

Game time. We all get together, eat yummy snacks, and start playing the MOST SENSATIONAL game of Pictionary EVER! During one point Harry (who has a habit of… bending the rules to his advantage *also known as cheating) was trying to look at Nikki’s (fellow Jerusalem Ministry Volunteer) card, she called him out on it and he spoke rapid Korean while shrugging his shoulders and grinning. Jee Young translated, “It’s okay I can’t read English!”.

During another part of the game Nikki’s tutee, Chester, was drawing a picture of a ‘boy’. Harry thought he was drawing a picture of David Beckham (he loves soccer) so he kept saying “Beckham! Beckham!” I looked at him and said, “English Han Wool, you have to say it in English!” He stared at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world and said… “Beckham!”

I laughed for at least an hour afterwards.

Yep… I love Mondays!

A public apology… I must actually check my so called “spam” comments?!

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It is Monday morning and though I should be preparing for the day (okay… the week if I was super productive), I must take the time to write a formal apology to my dear friend Patrick Pho over at dmbosstone who is a faithful reader of Spit On The Street. He has probably read and commented on every post (who does that? COOL GUY) and though I was receiving his delightfully witty and encouraging comments (okay,  now I may just be adding on the sweeeet sugar cause I feel bad) at the beginning of my blogging journey… as of the past couple months I wondered where he went.

Turns out, WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE, dmbosstone headed over to my spam folder. Oops. I need to actually check that folder and make sure the comments really ARE spam?

Well that is annoying.

SORRY PHO!

procrastination…

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why write a four page paper reflecting a book you read a couple months ago (and can’t really remember, because you have read about ten books since) that is due tomorrow… when one can write a blog post about absolutely nothing?

I just read my oldest seeester’s blog which she mainly writes for me and me alone (as I like to think) about my adorable niece and nephew and I was just hit with the desire to have children. If you know me well, you know that I plan on adopting… as in, not birthing my children (but I will HAVE children), but loving them in the exact same way because they will be mine.

My niece and nephew. I mean if my sister can make these two adorable creatures, imagined what my mixed (*husband still being determined but hoping he is of a different ethnicity) babies will look like. RIGHT?

I have felt this way for as long as I can remember, not needing to create a child that looks like me but accepting one into my life and being the mother to those who don’t have one. But all of a sudden (maybe it has been happening over the past couple months) as my friends (ALL of them) get pregnant and have babies I have been thinking, “maybe that could be me one day”. WHAT? God… are you saying I have to go through pregnancy? Okay, so maybe a little of my reasoning for adopting is selfish, pregnant woman weird me OUT.

But anyway, God could be changing my heart to have a child of my own. Or He could be preparing me for a true mother’s heart to adopt a child that will become my own.

Did I mention that I am procrastinating from writing a paper?

pizza school! my dinner that I walked to get in the rain because I was craving it and didn't want to come home to write my paper, hahahaha!

I could adopt a Korean, they are SO CUTE! (these kids actually don't need adopting, they are my students and this is them playing for indoor recess, don't want to go out in that dangerous rain you know)

why do I blog?

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Two weeks ago I attended a teaching conference where over 1,000 professionals gathered from all over Asia (and North America, wait… and Europe?! but mostly Asia) to share and learn more about how to do what we love to do: teach.

Last weekend I attended a retreat where the two separate campuses of my church (an English church located in two different parts of Seoul) got together for the first time and we’re ministered too by Pastors Benjamin and Sunhee Robinson (as I mentioned in my previous post). Again I was at a conference where people came together from all over the world to share and learn about how to do what we love to do: have faith in God!

On Monday my sister sent me a couple pics (via WhatsApp on my spankin’ new iPhone) of her moving into her new apartment and yesterday I sent her pics of me getting my brown belt (yes after 3 months absence I finally went back to taekwondo and I am WILL get that black belt! The only thing in my way now is the red belt). Now, me and my sis are playing an intense game of ‘scrabble’ (words with friends app on iphone) while being oceans apart.

Why do I blog? Sometimes I contemplate on having separate ones, a blog dedicated to my faith and all of the revelations He gives me through other people and His word (my inheritance!), a blog dedicated to my job and all the things related to being a teacher and teaching, a blog dedicated to all of the crazy rendezvous I do in life.

And then I realized that I blog because I like to tell stories. Even if I am telling them to myself (and when you write them down/type them out it looks a whole lot more sane than sitting on a bus and talking to yourself). I can’t separate my life into categories, it just isn’t me. You can’t get a part of me, you have to experience all of me. Or… you can pick and choose! Either way, I realized I do it more for me- to reflect- and I find joy in bringing people along for the ride as well!

Final note: I prefer drinking lukewarm water to ice-cold. I don’t know why.  I just do.

back jump kick, broke the boards (2) my first try, woot woot!

Debbie and I with our Master.

compassion

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I can’t help but feel a little sorry for my 13 students (that is right, I only have 13- AMAZING) at times. It just so happens that being the teacher, I have a pulpit to preach from five days a week, seven hours a day.

Yesterday morning during our class meeting I was so inspired by the church retreat I went on this past weekend where Pastors Benjamin (like him on facebook!) and Sunhee Robinson preached up a storm, I mean dude, it was awesome… more on that later though. Back to me being inspired, I taught my students something I learned about the word compassion. See, when it’s split up can be defined as                                                                                                                                                                   com: with                                                                                                                                                   passion: to suffer                                                                                              So when Jesus had compassion, he suffered with us. I explained this to my children and they all gave me blank stares (I mean they are only seven and eight and English is their second language), but then we started talking more about the difference between empathy (a word we have been learning all year) and compassion and they seem to kind of get it… a little.

THEN

Today (next day) during our afternoon recess time one of my little girls, we shall call her Ella, hit her head on a pole while pushing some of her classmates on the swings. She hit it pretty bad and it hurt, but she was trying to be tough. One of the girls on the swings looked up at me (as I was being a good teacher and overseeing them on the swings and therefore saw the whole thing) and said “oh, Ms. Welton my head hurts too. I am having compassion for Ella.”

I almost died. I had already forgot we even had that discussion on compassion the day before.

My students DO listen to me!

small preview of the retreat: