If I go to the gym too early, I have to work out with a few second grade heathens, one of whom seems actually to exercise, while her friends, including my archnemesis, the spicy chicken girl, play on the machines. She apologized on their behalf. They called me Wonder Woman.
A new English sonsengnim said to me on the way to lunch that she had scolded her sons a lot yesterday. They spend too much money, more than her, and play too many computer games. “What should I do?” she asked me.
This is out of my purview. I neither have children nor brothers. But when I asked where they got their money –“From my husband and me and some relatives”– and explained that in the US often we have to do some chores to get money, she responded “Oh, that is different from here.”
Ok, well, call me a cultural imperialist, but maybe that’s what you should do.
On the schedule end: maybe I will be teaching third grade, but only every other week because they have to study for their tests and foreign teachers don’t know how to teach for tests, and maybe I will do a class for the teachers. I like this idea –having conversations with adults instead of 14 year olds– and am intimidated by it.
I had a terrible thought on my way to the gym yesterday: what if things go well this term and I want to do it again? What would I do if that happened? This must be the first week of school talking; I haven’t had time for a lesson to bomb, or been homesick for a good month, and I’ve been sleeping in since it takes 5 whole minutes to get here.