Amanda Takes Off...

I met the sixth graders yesterday for the first time (13 Korean age, so the same age as I taught in America). During the last class, this exchange occurred.

Amanda: My brother is a fireman.

Student, with awe on his face: Your brother is Spiderman?

I didn't go to work today because I went to Labor. I am nearly guaranteed to win my labor case since she already has 5 judgments against her in the last six months. That, however, doesn't mean I will actually get my money. Also, why can this woman owe people tens of millions of won and still be in business? That makes no sense.

I had to ink-thumb every signature and page of the document since I don't have the Korean-style name stamp. Actually, I just bought one Saturday in Insadong and forgot to bring it. So now my thumb is pink.

Monday night's class was awesome. It was hot and it was hard work and at the end of class Master wanted me to try breaking the rebreakable bricks. I had tried this once before and only ended up hurting my hand.

Well, I tried the easiest brick and didn't break it. Then he gave me some pointers and my studiomates said, "화이팅!" I tried again and broke it. That felt good because the bricks are harder to break than the tiles.

Last night he had me do the easiest brick again, then try the medium brick. I failed the first time but said, "No, I want to try again." My studiomates again cheered me on and I broke it.

Master asked me to try the hardest brick, and I did, twice, but failed to break it. OK, so that's my next goal.

After class NewSabumnim took several videos of me breaking the medium brick. Over and over.

My hand still hurts.

Last night Master and I had our second English class. I asked him after class if he'd done his homework (which he had two weeks to complete). He froze. During our lesson, I canceled some of his homework, like writing down what he would say when introducing someone, because he did that when he met my parents.

Today I managed to get some picture frames. I asked how much they were and she kept saying the size. Finally I said, "No, money," in Korean and she laughed, "Oh, I'm sorry!" It wasn't a matter of me being the problem, it was just a normal miscommunication. I didn't know the word for picture frame, so I pointed to one in the store and said, "Do you have this?" It wasn't an entirely fluid conversation, but something about getting what I needed without much trouble...that felt nice.

Friday night after class I'm meeting a Korean guy who lived in America as a kid for drinks or dinner or something. We briefly chatted during the break in tonight's class. I've talked to people on the phone during breaks before—men and women, in Korean and English, but tonight the kids paid attention.

I was sitting outside, chatting entirely in English. When I got off the phone, two boys and Ghost were standing there.

"아만다...진구예요? 남자예요?" Amanda...was that a friend? A boy?

Yes.

It is a boy? Where is he from? Is he American? He's not? He's Korean? Oh, oh, Amanda! Yes, Korean! Very good! When are you meeting him? Will he be your boyfriend?

Then, while I was on the phone some Korean man in his 40s just stood at the bottom of the steps and stared at me. I waved at him. He waved back and kept staring.

Yes, dude, a white woman is sitting in a dobok, wrapped with a black belt, chatting on the phone at the top of the stairs in English in South Korea. Get over it.