Beach, Bitch, Sit, Shit

So I'm teaching the lesson on how to order food in English. Key sentences: I'm hungry. Can I have some..?

Easy right? But where was the little birdy to tell me not to include a picture of a dog with anything edible in a country where dogs are something edible?

Oh. I was supposed to know that.

Oops.

I pull up a picture of an old woman scowling at a begging dog as she eats ice-cream. Cue the class in unison:

"I'm hungry! Can I have some dog?"

Ah, can I have some dog. I'll file that one away under things I never thought I would experience in a classroom, right after all the other things I never thought I would experience in a classroom:

"No, not shitty. City. Sssssssssity."

This dog experience is second only to the time my co-teacher said to me: "Good Morning, Anne! Should I teach the difference between beach and bitch?"

What? Twenty minutes prior I was searching for berryholic yogurt. Now I'm searching for a senario where beach and bitch could fall into a context where they run the risk of being misinterpreted.

I think of an ill-informed Korean kid: "Where can I find a phat beach?" Slap.

I think of my co-teacher saying, "One, two, three, look at me. Quiet please. Okay, this is a bitch. Bitch. This is a beach. Beach. Different. Understand?"

Ah, the sheer entertainment. I'm tempted. I want to say yes. I want to shout yes. YES. YES! I THINK YOU SHOULD TEACH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEACH AND BITCH!!!

"Anne! What do you think?"

"No."-- restraint making its brief cameo into my life. "Damnit, I don't think it's neccessary."

But apparently here is where a Siegert missed a golden opportunity to be innappropriate-- and we never miss those!

Apparently-- a friend informs me-- fowl mouthed Korean boys grow up to be-- yes-- fowl mouthed Korean men. She tells me of her latest date with one:

"I need to shit," he says.

She inquires further, hoping she's heard wrong. "What?"

"I really need to SHIT." Now he's looking around. "Do you see a good place to shit?"

"Wait, you need to what?"

Pantomiming with a squat he says, "Shit."

She smiles nervously, turning her head to the side. I hope he's saying 'sit' wrong and not 'shit' right. "I don't see a place to..."

"Ah, let's shit," he says, pointing to a bench.

And thus, relief so tangible you can shit on it: he was saying 'sit' wrong.

Monday morning rolls around and I say, "Good Morning, Seosaegneem. Should I teach the difference between shit and sit?"

Single in Seoul

So... yesterday was Black Day in Korea. No, Alexis, you didn't miss the Sistas&Brothas of Seoul's annual throw down. And no, it's not the day after Thanksgiving where Koreans buy a bunch of shit.

Instead, Black Day marks the tragedy of being alone and single on Black Day in Korea-- a country, apparently where they take their self-loathing seriously.They mourn the death of their sex lives by wearing black clothes and eating black food.

I'm going to repeat that because it bears repeating. They eat black food.

This is a day where people are supposed to celebrate something they're unhappy about. As Lewis Black would say: don't think about that too hard or blood might shoot out your nose! It boggles my mind to think of how this tradition got started.

Hey, you-- single, lonely person, incapable of attracting the opposite sex-- you have nobody. Here's some R.E.M, track number 4-- "Everybody Hurts." Put on this black shirt. And here's some black shit. Eat your feelings.


My co-teacher excitedly holds up her new little black daily planner.

"Nice," I say. "Where'd you get it?"

"Yesterday, the bookstore was giving them out for free if you wear black."

"But you weren't wearing black. Anyways, you have a boyfriend."

"I know. I told him 'wait in corner.' I take my camera. It's black."

I scold her for stealing from the bitter and self-loathing. But I guess it's just as well. Giving out little black books to self-loathing singles is just a mean joke.

This Is My Life

Imagine this: A classroom full of students is let out to go to their English class. Everyone is walking. One child slowly picks up the pace. Then he gets a little faster, and a little faster still. A slow jog and boom; he's running. He sees the school gate. He goes for it.

About ten minutes later, I'm teaching the class. Three boys come in out of breath, cheeks flushed, sweaty head. "Why are you late?" I ask. "Where is Young Min?"

"English class. He see. He run."

Seeing their flushed cheeks, I realize-- this kid literally ran away from my class, and they literally tried to catch him. But this is not the running away we're used to. This isn't telling your parents your gone forever, packing a few pairs of socks, sneaking off to the playground, envisioning them forgetting about you and moving away, and then going back home.

No, this kid straight ran the hell away.

My co-teacher stares at me for a second and gives me the go-ahead-with-the-lesson look. This is probably around the time Young Min has slowed to a light jog and just performed one last look over his shoulder.

Then I'm interrupted: my co-teacher is waving her arms and yelling out the window: "Young Min! Hello!! Come in, we miss you in English class."

Young Min, apparently having been caught and turned around, is walking heal to toe to make it to my class.

This is my job.

My days are spent almost entirely with another Korean teacher. She is known as my co-teacher. We are alike to a fault in that we are both a tad unorganized. Actually, we are more like a tad organized. A drip even. Two peas in a pod and the only thing we disagree upon is which one of us is dumb and which one is dumber. For the record, I'm dumb.

This morning, we both forgot our key to the english wing and I told her if I could just get a wire hanger I could easily break in.

"Bendy stick?"

"Yes. Yes! Bendy stick."

I finagle the bendy stick through the door and a few near misses later, I've lifted the scissors that are jamming the lock. (Credit to older brother).

I update my status on facebook: Anne-Claire Siegert just broke into english wing using a wire, also known as bendy stick.

My new friend Alexis comments: ha..had a date once wit a guy who wanted to show me how to steal my own car!!!!

This is Alexis.

Alexis is my new favorite expat. Expat is a word I didn't use last year because I felt stupid saying it, but now I give up. Expat. My new favorite: Alexis.

We go out on the weekends and in the mornings we get breakfast with my other favorite expat, Caitlin. Alexis tells us about the new black guy that is obsessed with her. Because all black guys are obsessed with her.

She says, "Girl, it's one thing to have a foot fetish, but it's another thing to ask for pictures of my feet."

I say "Alexis, it's one thing to have a foot fetish and it's another thing to have a foot fetish."

Thought interrupted: my co-teacher has elongated a music stand, taken presumably out of her Mary Poppins bag. She has busted out a random flute. She has begun playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I'm singing along.

Children are racing in streaks behind me on the playground. First place goes to their stomachs; followed by their feet. Their heads come in last.

Now she's playing another tune and asks me what I invision. I get a hint: skylark, tiger, fish.

"A tiger is hunting fish and so is a skylark?"

"Really? That's what you invisioned?! Oh, It's my playing! You were supposed to invision a skylark flying gracefully up and down."

I've been in Korea long enough to know not to ask about the tiger and the fish.

This is my life.