Amanda Takes Off...

When Good Man had been working for a few weeks he came home, flopped stomach first onto the bed, and mumbled, "You Americans work harder than Koreans."

"What do you mean?"

"Koreans might be at work for more hours, but a lot of times we are just waiting for the boss to leave so we can leave. You Americans get more done."

A few minutes later, he was asleep.

"My boss is about my age," Good Man said.

"Right."

"Well, that is already a little weird to me, but that is OK."

"Right."

Good Man frowned, "But he is also boss of someone who is older than him. And...is that OK?"

"In America, yes."

Good Man clucked his tongue, "It is hard for me. In Korea, if you are young, you are junior. Middle-aged, middle level. Older, higher level. Maybe not everywhere, but most of the time. Here I don't know who is higher level just by looking. And I don't know what to call people."

"You'll figure it out," I said, laughing.

"I know, but here you have to talk, too. In Korea, when someone higher talks, you just nod and say 'yes.' Here, they actually want to know what you think. Why are you asking what I think?"

One of the reasons I wanted Good Man to live here for a while was so he wouldn't have to work the long hours Koreans work.

The joke's on me.

Since he's been employed, Good Man has been out of town (during the weekdays at least) more than he's been in town. He's been at company dinners (without the forced drinking)! He's gone to bed at 4 am, and he's been up before 4 am for conference calls. And he loves what he's doing.

At first I was angry, and we got into some battles over housework and cooking. But it settled down fairly quickly and now the time we spend together is easier, calmer, and more relaxed.

Still, I'd prefer not to have the alarm go off at 3:45 in the morning!

"What is 3/4? Is it .85?" asked the clerk at the fabric store, after she'd cut my fabric.

I looked at her, a grown woman, and tried to not use my teacher voice. "It's .75."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just like when you have three quarters you have 75 cents? 3/4 is 0.75."

She thought for a moment and then nodded, "Ohhhh."

I handed the bank teller my slip, "I'd like it in quarters, please."

"How much?"

I smiled, "All of it."

"All of it?" The teller seemed surprised.

"Yes, all of it."

The teller popped his head over the wall to the employee next to him. "I need $100 in quarters."

The guy next to him popped his head over his computer screen. He's the teller I usually go to, but I hadn't seen him. "Getting your laundry money?"

"You've got it."

The first teller handed me the quarters, "This is going to be—"

"Heavy, she knows," said my regular guy with a chuckle.

"I brought my mom my laundry," Good Man said from Seoul, over Skype.

"Why? Get it done in the hotel."

"I know, I know, and I can expense it, but it is like 5,000 won for one sock! One sock!"

"Amanda!" Mother called, "It is OK! I am happy! When I see [Good Man]'s face I am happy!"

"You should pay your mom for doing your laundry," I said.

"Amanda!"

I smiled at how Mother says my name. "Yes."

"Have you been to Jejudo?"

I thought for a moment and decided to tell the truth. "Yes, [Good Man] and I went together."

"Oh, I didn't know that."

I laughed, "He lied to you. Please don't be angry."

"Oh, I understand, I am not angry."

I talked to Good Man later. Apparently it's completely OK that we lied because we weren't married and of course we would have had to lie to escape for a trip like that. I knew at the time his Mother knew he was lying about something, but he disagreed. I was calling him on the face-saving, and he was keeping it up.

You taught me how to read,
you taught me how to write,
you taught me how to make poems with rymes at every sight,
you taught me how to multiply as hard as it sounded,
how easy it was I really was astounded,
simple machines were fun to study, that's why you're my budy.
I don't want to leave you with those squirming worms, please loop with me Ms, and teach me for four more terms!

And so another school year ends.

I can not believe how much I loved teaching gifted third graders this year. I can't believe how quickly the school year went. My administrative team was excellent. I got along with my coworkers (although none became true friends like Fairy Godmother did), and I am actually looking forward to coming back next year.

I know that gifted education is truly where I belong as a teacher.

And just as this school year came to an end, one of my absolute favorite students from my very first year of teaching contacted me to see how I was doing. When I got her in fifth grade, she knew French but no English. I had absolutely no idea what to do with her. I set her up with various websites to help her with her English. I found a French-English picture dictionary in the school library and during independent reading time she'd buddy up with a student and they would practice vocabulary together. She'd teach them the French words, and they'd teach her the English words.

I gave her a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank in French because we were going to do a big unit on WWII. She read the book over winter break, came back to school, and devoured every single book in the library about Anne Frank. Two years after I had her, the Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta held a show about Anne Frank, and I took her to it.

I have always wondered what happened to her. Unlike some other students who have kept up loose contact, once I left Atlanta, I lost all contact with her.

Well, she just graduated, and she'll be going to college in the fall.

When I first started teaching, I told myself I'd give it five years. If I hated it after five years, I could leave and go into law. I wanted to become a high-powered defense attorney. Sometimes I am amazed that I've been doing this for eight years.

Boss: Did [Good Man] tell you he's going to Korea sometime next week?

Coworker: Well if he didn't, you just got him in trouble.

I just took Good Man to the airport. When I got home I realized that he left his jacket here. Even though he's packed for multiple trips this year, he still forgets something important each time.

Oh well. He probably has a jacket at Mother's house. And if he doesn't, or can't get it quickly enough, he can buy one.

Still, this is a man who needs a packing list.