Crying crying crying and more crying

This week one of my pre-kinder students, Jason, quit. It's really too bad because I like him, but I guess his mom doesn't like that Mike reprimands him (appropriately, I might add) for bad behavior. Yes, Jason can be a trouble maker, and class will be easier without him, but he can be a sweet kid, too, sometimes. He's adorable when he giggles, and when he runs at gym class, I realize what a baby he really is. I think he still uses pull-ups, and he's probably just two feet tall.

A lot of students cry throughout the week. We have weekly vocabulary quizzes, and if they miss a certain number of questions, they are supposed get detention. I don't give the vocabulary tests, my partner teachers do, so when I see my students crying, at first I don't understand why. Two students in my GT4B4-1 (ie, the highest level of remedial fourth graders) cry in one period. Dorothy, whom I consider to be an intelligent and hardworking girl, cries silently for five minutes before I notice. I try to be sly and tell her I need her help for something in the hallway (so the other kids don't notice). She cries so hard that I cannot even understand what is the matter. She sits with one of our nicest (and prettiest) Korean teachers, Erika, for a few minutes, then comes back to class. Part of the reason Dorothy is so distressed is that she has another academy to go to after our school. I might add that mothers here are sometimes batshit insane, and although I don't know if this is the case for Dorothy, most kids are forced by their mothers to attend school from 6,7,8 AM to 10 PM every day. Even Saturdays. Some of my first graders tell me they sleep about 3 hours every night. They do TaiKwonDo, Science, Math, Piano, English, etc., with no time to be just kids. In this same class period, I notice that Sean, the court jester of the class, is sullen and not himself. He won't sit with the other boys or talk to anyone. I ask him what is the matter, but he won't tell me. Later I ask the students innocently,"How'd the quiz go?" at which point D.I. laughs at how three people: Dorothy, Jimmy, and Sean all have detention. Sean gives D.I. the dirtiest look I have ever seen a kid give another and bursts into loud tears, covering his face in his arms on the desk.

Another student today cries in class during a pop-quiz I give in GT1C1-2B (lowest level first graders). I want to give the quiz because there are some bratty boys who don't ever do their work and I want to prove to them that they aren't keeping up with the class. But my plan backfires with Jennifer (to whose mother I just gave a glowing progress report this morning), who after thirty minutes with the quiz, and after I have said "Time is up", has her head on the desk and I realize is silently crying. The quiz does not affect any kind of grade, it is only meant to measure progress and so I tell Jennifer that she doesn't have to turn it in.

It is hard to gauge the students' levels, since they can appear to know a lot more than they actually do (because they converse with such ease). It isn't until I quiz them, however, that I am able to really see what they understand. When Jennifer has calmed a little, she lifts her head enough for me to glimpse her paper, where I see she has only written down the questions to number one and number two, without the answers. I imagine she just got completely overwhelmed and froze.

Today after work Mike and I go to HomePlus to get groceries. They have moved the store setup around again (apparently they do this regularly) and I like it better now. I at least find the cereal selection, which includes (in addition to the two corn flakes previously mentioned) about three sugar coco-puff type brands, for over $6, and a tiny box of muesli for $11.50! I buy pastries instead which are much cheaper, and some of which are not half bad. I manage to steer clear of the "sweet potato" cake, which looks like white cupcake but is one of the most foul things I've tried here. I also find something that reminds me of home, and of my childhood (a double nostalgia whammy): the Danish butter cookies we used to buy every Christmas in Alaska. It reminds me of mandrin oranges, and the tin of three flavor popcorn, and how we always ate the cheddar ones first.

At the checkout counter the sales clerk offers for me to sign up for a HomePlus card. She doesn't speak English, she just holds up a card and says a lot of things I don't understand in Korean. I assent, as I know from other teachers at school that some sale items only apply to members. I am escorted over to a desk where another woman hands me a form. I cannot read a word of the form, but figure that my name must be in the top box --and the email part is obvious. The lady looks at my alien registration card and fills out that number for me. She has me sign two lines and hands me a "service" item of a box of Kleenex (I am surprised and pleased, as I just ran out at home but can't really bring myself to spend three dollars on a box of tissues).

Mike becomes interested in getting a membership card too when he sees how easy it is and that they give a free box of Kleenex with it (the one she gave me has passages from the Bible written in English on it and has a few purple flowers too). I don't know how I figure out things when there is no common language but the lady, does this finger back and forth thing between us, indicates that two people of the same household cannot register seperate cards. I point to the both of us and say "hagwon" as in, no we're not "together". While Mike is writing down his info the lady realizes she needs an address from me, so I try to give her the school adress. She writes down the address for me and somehow I also figure out that she needs the zip. The first number "One" I can obviously do on my fingers, but when she tries to do the next number which is zero, and I make an O with my hand she doesn't understand. I write it all down for her, and all is well.

I make tonkatzu (breaded pork cutlet) for dinner and watch my daily soap opera. I actually get a sense of excitement about the fact that when I turn on the TV most nights sometime after 8 PM (I never start on time), that I have the same familiar faces to watch. I think this is the kind of silly thing that creates a sense of comfort and the feeling of being at home. A regular schedule. Korean drama is a lot like American soaps except I haven't seen the "evil primiscous woman" that American soaps have. No murder so far, just way way way too much crying about unreciprocated love. When they hire an actress the one requirement must be, make a longing face while crying on command. Either that or they use the fake tears chemical thing (which must kill the eyes after a while). There is a man and a young woman who have a child and are separated. Their child (whose name, if I heard right is Jineon) seems to ask questions about the separation and makes the parents in turn look solemn and tortured by the reminder of their broken hearts. At one point there is this cheesey back and forth "conversation" in their minds between the parents which is all narrated while they stare longingly and yet with restraint into each other's eyes. The woman has another love interest, who, of course, gets hit by a car trying to save her life, is in a coma, and comes back out of it. (What else could you expect???) I burn my first batch of tonkatzu. I'm way too engrossed by the TV.