The hamster-faced Barbarian always slurps her soup - and loudly - during lunch. Today she suddenly announced to me, in Korean and in a very matter-of-fact tone, that her mother made her put her arms up at home last night. (Telling kids to hold their arms up over their heads is a common form of discipline here.)
I faux-gasped and answered her in English. "Why?" I said. "You didn't listen to your mother?"
Despite their lack of English ability, I think my students already have quite a lot of experience with the phrase "didn't listen," so she may have understood it.
She just nodded and stared down at her tray, after which Ms. Mischief quickly shoved a thumbs-down at her and shouted, "Bad!"
I'm sure if the Barbarian had known divulging information about her personal life would have ended so unhappily for her she would have chosen not to share. But then again, that's one of the defining traits of the Barbarian - her uninhibited drive to follow any and every impulse as soon as it flings its way into her head.
But don't worry - the Barbarian is in good company. The CD player started playing without the teacher's permission today, so I made it sit in the baby chair.
I should mention here that I also teach the Barbarian's older sister, who is a year older than the Barbarian and whom I've taught since Korean age 5 also, and last year the Sister would frequently show me a colored pencil that had snapped or otherwise was thwarting its own usefulness, inform me fiercely, "Colored pencil is not listening!" and then plop it in the baby chair.
Ah, I love these kids.
...Yes, even the bad ones.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Excuse Me - I Need to Use the Wedding Gallery
While attending my co-worker's wedding, I saw this tasteful sign:
I should mention that the Korean word there (화장실) means bathroom.
I should mention that the Korean word there (화장실) means bathroom.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Your Grandmother Poured Her Sweat and Tears Into This Floor, You Know!
Another hilarious test answer for your viewing pleasure:
Yeah, I'm sure mine did, too, kid.
Q: What does your grandmother do with a broom?
A: My grandmother sweat the floor with a broom.
Yeah, I'm sure mine did, too, kid.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
The Bad Cute Kids
Meet my new kindergarten class, competing right now with all they've got for the title of Craziest Class I've Ever Taught. They're five years old Korean age, which means they're really about three or four by Western standards. They're all cute in different ways, but they are also all really, really bad. Usually I get one or two bad kids per class, but this class is five for five. It's gonna be a crazy year!
Anyway, meet the lineup:
Ms. Mischief:
Good at repeating after me. The most engaged student in the class at any given time. Participates the most. Also enjoys making trouble. Runs around screaming with El Diablo during breaktime. Uses her powers of naughtiness to move the baby chair (a timeout place for students who have misbehaved) across the room whenever - and I do mean whenever - I'm not looking.
El Diablo:
So named because he loves to bother all his classmates by putting his feet on their chairs, throwing their things, and in general harassing them. Smallest, tiniest kid you'll ever meet. (Actually, no. Maybe slightly bigger than a girl in my class two years ago. That kid was so tiny she'd literally fall in the toilet if no one was holding onto her. She was smart, but I think the fear of being flushed away was the deciding factor when she decided to stop coming. Anyway.) El Diablo's face has the teeniest little features and he takes himself very seriously. He knows how to pull that face you'd expect from a CEO - the one where his head is slightly back, his eyebrows are slightly up, and he'd look down his nose at you if he were more than a few feet tall and had a nose big enough to look over. When it's breaktime he can't quite remember how to ask if he can drink some water, so I always have to prompt him, but then he always cuts me off, pats his stomach very seriously, and says, "내가," meaning he wants to say it by himself. (I should point out that he should be using 제가 because he's just a kid and I'm his teacher. 내가 is what you use to someone your age or lesser status. My Korean co-teacher even commented to me that these kids are rude because they speak to her in the wrong politeness level all the time when they speak Korean. I'd almost consider calling El Diablo the Little Prince, except that really this next kid would be more deserving of it. Except I have a better nickname for him.
The Howler:
Screamed - if anything, that'd be an understatement - everyday for two and a half weeks. Latched on to Mother du Jour (whichever poor desk teacher he'd chosen to be his surrogate for the day) and wouldn't let go. Got into the habit of throwing nasty, horrific tantrums every time anyone expected anything of him (like that he should attend class). I felt bad for him at first because he seemed actually traumatized. It got to the point, though, where the desk teachers couldn't ever get any work done because he would just scream and scream and scream unless they sat with him and played with him all day. Finally my Korean co-teacher pulled out all the stops and dragged the Howler into class and put her foot down so hard that his stubbornness gave way. Like magic, he's been fine ever since. I'm still waiting for the awards ceremony when everyone at our academy applauds my co-teacher's heroic actions. If not for her everyone would still be unable to get anything done all day long.
The Princess:
One of the two fat-faced kids. I know it's not good to have favorites, but I have to say the fat-faced kids are my favorites because of their sheer cuteness. Their cheeks billow out like puffy balloons and their faces are so round. They're super cute. The Princess has frizzy hair (a perm electrified?) and in cold weather she comes in in this huge fur (or something like it) coat that seriously looks like some kind of crazy royal garb from Disney Princess Land. She almost never pays attention in class and just sits there, thinking about whatever she thinks about. But when we do activity book pages she's the best at following my instructions and coloring nicely. She rarely answers during class, but when she does, she immediately turns to everyone with an air of haughtiness and demands, in Korean, that everyone acknowledge that she said the right answer first. If she feels she is denied this praise, she immediately turns her head, sticks her nose in the air, and makes a little "Hmph!" noise. She's so snooty and it's so bad, so I try not to encourage it, but when she's not around I laugh when I think of it, because her voice is really high and soft and it's super cute when she says it.
And last, but definitely not least...
The Barbarian:
She, too, has a hamster face. She is super cute. She's also very bad, but in a strange way. She has absolutely no self-control at all, whatsoever. She just follows her impulses immediately, all the time, even with stuff she knows is bad and, I suspect, didn't actually want to do. For example, she will suddenly start scribbling on the table. I'll say, "No, no! We don't do that!" And, without even looking at me, she'll immediately get up, go get a tissue, and come back and start scrubbing off her coloring. I call her the Barbarian because she's very wild. Like a girl who came from the jungle. She's always climbing on the chairs and leaping on the tables and crawling on the floor and slithering downstairs and generally doing sneaky and impulsive things as if by instinct. The most hilarious thing is that her expression never changes. She has a super cute, fat, expressionless face at all times. Happy face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. Sad face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. Angry face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. I think that's what I love about her. As if by instinct, she just suddenly gets up, flings herself at the board, begins erasing fervently even though she knows better. Then, when I say "Baby chair?" she immediately, without looking at me, dashes back to her chair, then pauses as if tugged by some unseen force to go back to doing naughty things, then flops down. And all through it she has the same uber cute, expressionless face. It's just too funny.
I'm thinking about bringing in earplugs to work soon, though. With El Diablo and Ms. Mischief running through the halls and shrieking, and the Barbarian squawking and squealing at random for no apparent reason, it's a wonder I can hear at all when lunchtime rolls around.
Anyway, meet the lineup:
Ms. Mischief:
Good at repeating after me. The most engaged student in the class at any given time. Participates the most. Also enjoys making trouble. Runs around screaming with El Diablo during breaktime. Uses her powers of naughtiness to move the baby chair (a timeout place for students who have misbehaved) across the room whenever - and I do mean whenever - I'm not looking.
El Diablo:
So named because he loves to bother all his classmates by putting his feet on their chairs, throwing their things, and in general harassing them. Smallest, tiniest kid you'll ever meet. (Actually, no. Maybe slightly bigger than a girl in my class two years ago. That kid was so tiny she'd literally fall in the toilet if no one was holding onto her. She was smart, but I think the fear of being flushed away was the deciding factor when she decided to stop coming. Anyway.) El Diablo's face has the teeniest little features and he takes himself very seriously. He knows how to pull that face you'd expect from a CEO - the one where his head is slightly back, his eyebrows are slightly up, and he'd look down his nose at you if he were more than a few feet tall and had a nose big enough to look over. When it's breaktime he can't quite remember how to ask if he can drink some water, so I always have to prompt him, but then he always cuts me off, pats his stomach very seriously, and says, "내가," meaning he wants to say it by himself. (I should point out that he should be using 제가 because he's just a kid and I'm his teacher. 내가 is what you use to someone your age or lesser status. My Korean co-teacher even commented to me that these kids are rude because they speak to her in the wrong politeness level all the time when they speak Korean. I'd almost consider calling El Diablo the Little Prince, except that really this next kid would be more deserving of it. Except I have a better nickname for him.
The Howler:
Screamed - if anything, that'd be an understatement - everyday for two and a half weeks. Latched on to Mother du Jour (whichever poor desk teacher he'd chosen to be his surrogate for the day) and wouldn't let go. Got into the habit of throwing nasty, horrific tantrums every time anyone expected anything of him (like that he should attend class). I felt bad for him at first because he seemed actually traumatized. It got to the point, though, where the desk teachers couldn't ever get any work done because he would just scream and scream and scream unless they sat with him and played with him all day. Finally my Korean co-teacher pulled out all the stops and dragged the Howler into class and put her foot down so hard that his stubbornness gave way. Like magic, he's been fine ever since. I'm still waiting for the awards ceremony when everyone at our academy applauds my co-teacher's heroic actions. If not for her everyone would still be unable to get anything done all day long.
The Princess:
One of the two fat-faced kids. I know it's not good to have favorites, but I have to say the fat-faced kids are my favorites because of their sheer cuteness. Their cheeks billow out like puffy balloons and their faces are so round. They're super cute. The Princess has frizzy hair (a perm electrified?) and in cold weather she comes in in this huge fur (or something like it) coat that seriously looks like some kind of crazy royal garb from Disney Princess Land. She almost never pays attention in class and just sits there, thinking about whatever she thinks about. But when we do activity book pages she's the best at following my instructions and coloring nicely. She rarely answers during class, but when she does, she immediately turns to everyone with an air of haughtiness and demands, in Korean, that everyone acknowledge that she said the right answer first. If she feels she is denied this praise, she immediately turns her head, sticks her nose in the air, and makes a little "Hmph!" noise. She's so snooty and it's so bad, so I try not to encourage it, but when she's not around I laugh when I think of it, because her voice is really high and soft and it's super cute when she says it.
And last, but definitely not least...
The Barbarian:
She, too, has a hamster face. She is super cute. She's also very bad, but in a strange way. She has absolutely no self-control at all, whatsoever. She just follows her impulses immediately, all the time, even with stuff she knows is bad and, I suspect, didn't actually want to do. For example, she will suddenly start scribbling on the table. I'll say, "No, no! We don't do that!" And, without even looking at me, she'll immediately get up, go get a tissue, and come back and start scrubbing off her coloring. I call her the Barbarian because she's very wild. Like a girl who came from the jungle. She's always climbing on the chairs and leaping on the tables and crawling on the floor and slithering downstairs and generally doing sneaky and impulsive things as if by instinct. The most hilarious thing is that her expression never changes. She has a super cute, fat, expressionless face at all times. Happy face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. Sad face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. Angry face: fat cheeks, straight mouth, slit eyes. I think that's what I love about her. As if by instinct, she just suddenly gets up, flings herself at the board, begins erasing fervently even though she knows better. Then, when I say "Baby chair?" she immediately, without looking at me, dashes back to her chair, then pauses as if tugged by some unseen force to go back to doing naughty things, then flops down. And all through it she has the same uber cute, expressionless face. It's just too funny.
I'm thinking about bringing in earplugs to work soon, though. With El Diablo and Ms. Mischief running through the halls and shrieking, and the Barbarian squawking and squealing at random for no apparent reason, it's a wonder I can hear at all when lunchtime rolls around.
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