Woof woof!

Students can smell fear; they can sense fatigue and poor preparation. That being said my ill-behaved students are like the "good" students in any LA private school. At their worst they just apathetically conk out on their desks - and I can't say I don't sympathize with them and their 12 hour school day.

Because I teach about 20 different classes each week, I have a chance to fine tune a lesson plan. My first lesson plan, on introductions has benefited from creative license, ala James Frey, and good old-fashioned competition. In the introductions, I ask them to mix some lies in with factual statements about themselves. If they can fool their classmates, then they get a fabulous prize i.e. leftover Korean candies.

Tonight I had some shabu shabu for dinner. Dipping pieces of raw mushroom and seafood in boiling broth allowed me to stain the shirts of both my companion and me to the extent that I have little doubt as to the sincerity of her friendship. We were eating in a rather fashionable university district and there were 웨국 사람들(ue-guk sa-ram-deul, foreigners) everywhere. I found my irrepressible urge not to be associated with my own kind pretty amusing. It's inescapeable, but I don't want to be "the American" or "the token foreign friend." If I had a radish for every time I said, In America people dont..., or, In Korea do people...., I could make enough 김치 (gim-chi) to feed all of 경기도 (gyeong-gi-do, the province where I live). I suppose this is a malady possessed by only certain kinds of introverted travel writers who constantly size up their moments in picturesque talking points, but as a recent immigrant, I think I've forgotten what it is "normal" people talk about.

Hanja:

女

계집 녀 (gye-jib nyeo)
woman, girl, I think it's a kneeling woman