The weekend in 사울

The American ambassador is having us for Thanksgiving feast.  Am heading straight to the airport from school.  Here’s hoping they let me carry-on the circular knitting needles I’m to lend away.  I spoke to more than 100 students before lunch.  At least the oral testing is finished but for the ones who were absent and the one literally so doubled over in pain she could not speak.  Question: why did he send me the retarded kids?  They do love to say hi, they are sweet and I do love to encourage them.  I asked how they were since they can respond to that question after a fashion–either “I’m fine!” or “good!” (if prompted by a “good” from me) and “Thank you!”–but then I can’t get them to go back to class because everything else that I say is nonsense.
Why are they taking English in the first place?

I just started thinking about how I can have Dunkin’ Donuts coffee when I get to the airport.  Actually, not until Gimpo.  Damn the Jeju airport that doesn’t even have Toblerone in the duty free.  Is it bad that I sometimes look forward to things like Dunkin’ Donuts coffee?

Behind me, a student, after being pounded on the back by a teacher, which I thought was punishment, but which must be part of this traditional medical treatment, is having her black blood released.  The teacher gave the girl’s thumbs a tourniquet with a shoe lace and put the needle in her hair between prickings like she was a pin cushion.  Oh, the things that would never fly in American public school.

Peace out until Sunday when I likely return to angst about my Thanksgiving lesson.  I have one planned, but post-test week I’m thinking it’s more suitable for my club class than regular class.  Back to the drawing board.

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