une façade

Fact: women's shoes in Korea do not come larger than a size 8.
Fact: Korean shoes are very beautiful.
Fact: Korean shoes are very cheap.
Fact: Korean women have super messed up feet.

When I am in a foreign country, I try very hard to not get tooooooooo annoyed with certain super annoying aspects of that country's culture. But one thing that really really bothers me about Korea is the country's obsession with appearance.

Each classroom at school is equipped with a camera. Parents can come and watch anytime they feel there is a problem with their child, his/her classmates, the teacher, the school, etc. The students have no way of knowing they are being observed, and unless we are warned before hand, neither do the teachers. So what is the perfect way for parents to observe their child in his or her school environment? If you answered invite 10 sets of parents into our already crowded feeling classrooms for a morning of "open house" then you are correct.
Nothing about this open house is natural. The usual 2 class periods of 80 minutes each will be split into 4 40 minute blocks. Class time that should have been spent doing phonics was instead spent doing writing and making fall crafts to adorn the halls. Kids that are usually bad will be good. Kids that are usually good will be too shy to speak. I will be awkward and bumbling while trying to pretend that 20 extra pairs of eyes are not watching me, judging me to make sure they are getting what they paid for AND GRADING ME (yeah, they grade us). This is the fakest thing I've ever been a part of, and I worked in food service for 10+ years.
I am so sick of thinking about and talking about this open house. I have been feeling this way for a while now. I thought it couldn't get worse. Then as I was leaving school, rather than a goodbye, I got this from my superior "Laura, dress nicely tomorrow. Don't wear flip flops...or slippers (said as she points to my shoes)" I was so taken aback by this comment I don't even remember if I said ok. I don't wear slippers to school. I haven't worn slippers since I was 20 and living in the dorms at ISU. I wear flats. Just because a shoe doesn't have a heel, doesn't mean it's a slipper. But apparently my flats were deemed inappropriate for open house. I understand the parents' concern for ensuring that their children are receiving a quality education. But SERIOUSLY???? FLATS? If I came to school wearing hot pants and a tshirt with a picture of a car and a caption that said "My other ride is your boyfriend" then yeah, that could be distracting. Parents, mark me down. But wearing flats? To any parents who grade me based on my appearance, I have the following letter written for them:
Dear Parents,
I am with your kids 5 days a week. I sing with them. I dance with them. I pick up after then. I wipe up their spills. I hug them when they cry. I wipe their noses when they bleed because you haven't taught them not to pick so hard/at all. I break up fights. I've even cleaned up their puke. I am away from my own family so that I can teach yours. I am missing holidays with them. I am missing weddings, parties, babies, and graduations. I chose to come here. I want to be here. I want to be here to teach your kids. I am in no way a perfect teacher, and I never pretend to be. However, the imperfections I have are in no way related to my appearance.
Sincerely,
Laura
However, since I do enjoy employment, I of course will not be sending that letter. I will wear a dress. I will put on make up. I will carry my one pair of heels to school. I will put them on right before class starts, and for a few hours tomorrow morning my 147 lbs will be supported by two little pieces of H&M plastic and I will take them off as soon as the parents leave and I will put my FLATS back on. And any complaints I receive will go in one ear and hopefully out the other as I use every bit of self control I have to remind myself that the children are not their parents and I should not take my frustration out on them.
Wish me luck.

Red snappers snappin, clam shells clappItin

An egg white omelet. Howard Dean trying to appear sane after the squeal heard around the world. Crystal Pepsi and Coke 2. Any movie with Nicolas Cage. Most tv show spin offs. The DeLorean. The XFL. Rick Rockwell and Darva Conger's marriage.

That is my list of things that just don't really work, my list of all things fail. After Monday, I learned first hand one more thing I can add to that list-Korean sun screen.

I spent the last few days at Jeju with ma mere. Jeju is SO beautiful, words cannot describe it. On our first full day there, we decided to park ourselves on the beach and enjoy the sunny skies and 80+ degree day. Having spent very little time outside this summer, my skin was close to its normal winter color of don't look directly at it without special glasses white. Sunscreen was a must. After about 4 stores not having any, my mom found one store that had SPF 40. Perfect...except that it doesn't work. All week I've been sporting one of the worst sunburns I can ever remember. It's one of those burns that almost looks purple in some spots. Ouch. But today it is getting better. It no longer hurts to wear clothes or move.

Also, Koreans don't wear bathing suits. They swim in normal clothes. I even saw one lady wearing socks. And yes, she did get into the water wearing them.

new "teacher"

My mom is here! WoOt! She came to school with me yesterday. It was a good day because the kids were wearing their traditional Korean clothes (hanbok, as I learned a few days ago) because of the Korean Thanksgiving (Chusok) happening next week. It was melt your heart cute.

Kolean tlansratol

L and R. Two letters, one sound...if you are Korean. So it is no surprise that my name poses a particular challenge for the citizens of this lovely country.

Most of my students call me either "Lola" or "Rora" and my favorite argument is when the Lola sayers try and correct the Rora sayers or vice versa. It never gets old.

I walked into one of my afternoon classes today, and my kids were all laughing gathered around an electronic device. As they brought it over to me, I could see it was an electronic translator, which had this message for me from my students "Hello Rora Teacher. How are you? Can we play game today?"

Aparently even battery operated Korean electronics have a problem with my name.

My blog about the hospital visit is below the four horsemen one. I guess blogger puts them in the order when I started writing it, not when it was actually publishd. Cool cool.

four horsemen

I'm in the middle of writing what is turning into an Anna Karenina length blog entry about my first visit to a hospital in Seoul. Much like Tolstoy, I like to put adequate time into writing the classics, so in the meantime, here's what's up:

Rain.

This is what is going on outside as I write this.

Blarg. I'm not a rainy day kind of girl. Especially when I feel trapped inside and my neighbor is playing what sounds like Mel and Mel-O-Dee Caliopee style music. Sorry to my non Princeton readers who will not understand that allusion to a classic Bureau County icon.

There was a typhoon on Thursday. It was kind of cool. And it delayed the start of school by an hour. WIN! I think it killed like 5 people though. Fail.

I had my first dealing with puke on Friday. It was nasty, especially when the only thing I had to clean it with was toilet paper and a spray bottle of mystery cleaner.

병원

I am generally a pretty healthy person. I have been on prescription medication maybe twice (if that) in the past three years. Even with my self given title of "pretty healthy" my body is not equipped to handle these Asian super bugs. For the second time since my arrival here, I have fallen victim to the Korean Crud. As an added plus, this time around the Crud has done something to my eyes. I don't know if it is pink eye, dry eyes, random infection, or what. But they are red. And watery. And itchy. And burny. And for two days, whenever I walked into a room, one of my preschoolers would say "TEACHER! Eyes is red! Why?"

I also had my first visit to a Korean hospital. A few months ago, I noticed a little bump on my stomach. It grew. And hurt. And did other gross things that I won't talk about in case anyone is eating anything. So finally I decided to see a dermatologist. After a VERY awkward attempt at trying to make an appointment, I thought I maybe had the receptionist give me the okay for Wednesday at 6:30. Bad traffic. I walked into the reception area around 6:50. Oops. I was apologizing for being late, when the good Doc walked into the room and said in perfect English "Don't worry about it!" I relaxed, filled out my forms, and sat down to wait. I then realized this private skin clinic was beautiful, with modern decor, including plants and a little fountain. There were posters and brochures for various cosmetic procedures. The national sport of Korea is Taekwondo. Cosmetic surgery is a close second though. While waiting, I saw a few Korean female clients walking around the dr's office. True to form, they were perfect-perfect skin, perfect clothes, high heels, not a hair out of place, etc. I had a feeling this is what the Doc mainly deals with-botox and other issues of vanity. For a second I debated running out of the waiting room while no one was looking. I had been at work all day. My hair was messy. I wasn't wearing make up. I outweighed all of his female clients (and probably some of the males as well, tiny little fellas here) by about 50 pounds. I probably smelled weird, and I wasn't there to talk to him about crows feet prevention. But, before I could make my move, he called me back to his office. I followed him, giving myself a pep talk along the way "Suck it up Laura. You left your pride somewhere in Bordeaux nearly two years ago. Just do it. He's a doctor. It's his job. It's okay that you look and smell like crap, you are foreign. Etc" Once in his office, he asked me what he could do for me today. And of course after I told him, he made me show him. I lifted my shirt and took off the band aid that was sort of covering it. As soon as the band aid was off, he said
"GEEEEZUS. THIS IS A SEMI EMERGENCY!" And he ran out of the room, leaving me sitting there holding a band aid in one hand, and keeping my shirt up with the other. Umm...ok. A long few minutes later, he came back carrying gauze and tape. He properly bandaged my bump, yelled at me a bit for not seeing a doctor sooner, then told me it had to come off asap. And since he wanted it biopsied, I'd have to go to a hospital, and he said it needed to be done first thing in the morning. He wrote me a referral, and told me what he thought the bump was. I don't remember what it was called, and no longer am in possession of the referral sheet, I may never know. It is better that way. I would prefer people don't know what it was called. It was gross. Basically it is just a benign growth that is usually the result of trauma to the skin. I don't know what my trauma was. So I got to work the next day, and had my boss call the hospital to make me an appointment. She called, but was told that there is a policy of no same day appointments, and they told me just to show up before 3:30. I left work around 2:30. The hospital is called Hanyang University Medical Center. It is close to work, but since I wasn't entirely positive where, I took a taxi. This isn't a hospital like good ol' Perry. This is a complex. Think like Northwestern Medical Center, only all the signs explaining what's in each building are all in Korean. The driver dropped me off in front of a building. I thought, okay, here is as good a place as any. So I walked in. There were people EVERYWHERE. I found a desk that in English said "Information" GREAT! I walked up, did my sort of bow, and showed him my referral. He laughed at me, and pointed me towards another set of desks, with a few ladies at computers. I approached one of them, and she tried to speak to me in very broken English. Bless her. I gave her my referral sheet. After it became clear our language barrier was too great, she made a phone call, and told me to wait. A few minutes later, a woman approached me, and introduced herself as Dr. Grace Somethingorother (probably Kim, Lee, or Park). She said she was head of the international hospital at Hanyang University. I followed her to the "international" hospital, though there was nothing international about it. I was the only non Asian in the building. But they did offer translators. So I soon found myself following my translator up to the 5th floor. I waited a few minutes, and was then called into a room with an older doctor and a VERY attractive Korean medical student. If only I wasn't there to have him examine a benign growth of nasty on my stomach. Side note, I was looking even more haggard that day too because I walked to school in the tale end of a typhoon. No joke. Anyway, they confirmed the dermatologist's diagnosis of it being whatever he said it was (forgot the name), and told me I'd have to have it removed that day. Once again in the waiting room, my translator asked me if it would be okay if they took pictures of it. I wasn't sure if this was standard, or if it was because I'd let it go way longer than I should have or why. But I soon found myself standing, naked from the waste up holding on arm up in the air, wishing I wasn't so lazy about shaving my armpits, while a Korean medical student photographed me with a camera that probably cost more than my college education. At one point I literally had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Like I said before, my pride is long gone. A short while later, the bump was gone, and I was bandaged up and walking home with a prescription for two different medicines and instructions to return to the hospital Saturday morning so they could check my stitches and change the bandage. Simple enough, except that the translators don't work on the weekend. It wasn't bad though. Being obviously foreign and looking lost and confused goes a long way here, although I think I annoyed a lot of people in the process.

Fast forward a week, my stitches are out and I am the proud owner of a Hanyang University Medical Center ID card. Good souvenir, I guess.