The Mystery Of The Bagged Package; Which Is Probably Illegal.

This mystery, or rather story, begins a long time ago, in the college days. My mom had bought my dad some shoes which, in a way, addressed the latest fashion fad that was floating through Tennessee. As a result, my dad found himself face to face with Camouflage Crocs. I am told he responded by saying “these are the ugliest shoes I have ever seen.” Subsequently, my mom related this reaction to me, and proceeded by offering me such shoes (my mom was quite aware of my aloof personality). Nonetheless, I found myself hesitantly shoe-staring. After a short debate-in my head-I accepted. I made this momentous choice for three reasons; 1. They were, in fact, the ugliest shoes in the world, and I pondered that it would be quite an adventure to sport the ugliest existing shoes. 2. They were comfy. 3. I have trouble keeping my shoelaces tied.

As it turns out, within the realm of shoe choices, this was to be the best choice I’d ever made.

Fast forward, to my job across from college- -Wal-mart. There was a significant occasion in which a manager who had been haphazardly ordering me about for 6 months and I did not see along the same lines. I was called into personnel, and that manager, at one point, asked me three life-changing questions, “who are you?”, “what’s your name?”, and “do you work here?” As I was wearing a name badge at the time, resented these questions, and was required to wear a name badge around my neck 24/7, me and Wal-mart thus became sworn enemies. Simultaneously, my camouflaged crocs became a readymade weapon in my ever-growing Arsenal of War. These crocs, seemed to be able to ink by every written regulation and policy on shoes while maintaining the look that they definitely did not pass any regulation whatsoever, while they did, as ever, maintain a despairing look of infinince. I also prompted tactics like buying walkie-talkies along with my fellow employed recruits (only managers (who are important) were issued walkie-talkies). We adopted nerdy walkie-talkie nicknames and stayed one step ahead of the managers in our wartime activities. Well…that’s not entirely true; I mainly did it-because I wished to see the look on a manager’s face when they saw me giving orders on a walkie-talkie from within the ugliest shoes in the world while working the lowliest job at Wal-mart.

But let’s move past my childish war-games.... because The manager with golden teeth has offered me a package. He says, and I quote. “I’ve got a package, if you want it, meet me in the back of the parking lot.” The package would not be delivered for another week, which gave me and my recruits plenty of time to come up with theories and bets on what the package may be. Would this change the tide of the war?.....

The moment of truth came about, as promised, in the back of the parking lot behind a large truck. I stood momentarily speechless, as the man with golden teeth offered me a bag of several pairs of new balance shoes.

In fact, the man with golden teeth was a kindly and humble man, and he assumed, as did many in my public school days that I was quite poor, and that the back of parking lot would be a good place for my pride. My lack of ability to sufficiently cycle my wardrobe, my aloofness to stained and wrinkled clothes, my affinity for used clothes, and my state of war-time with Wal-mart must have certainly contributed to this perception. Additionally, I was informed, by a less kindly manager, that the managerS had decided that I could not wear my camouflaged crocs on wal-mart premises. I was incorrigibly ecstatic about this relation, as I deduced that the managers had actually spent time talking about my shoes. This was an applaudable sign of my move towards victory in what would be a long and arduous war.

Unfortunately, my used new balances were very nice, and so I resorted to using my croc weaponry at sporadic and unpredictable intervals. I later realized that-that day, Wal-mart was certainly saved from certain destruction by one kindly manager.

Wal-mart has since grown plump, and does not maintain an ever wary eye. Unbeknownst to them, except maybe in this blog, The East has armed me with a new and devastating weapon along with new strategies and philosophies. At a snowboarding resort deep in the mountains of South Korea I was freely awarded this new foot-seat of power. I was able to run at a speed at which only a minority could upon the most sophisticated of machinery. And thus, received this item for FREe.




(mine are not pink, otherwise accurate)


Disclaimer: This is a true story. However, it is certainly possible that Wal-mart is a good company, and certain that its’ employees, and managers, are very good people. Furthermore, my unjustified, spoiled, and youthful boredom in those days combined with my, then bitter, regard of the growing wealth gap, and consumerist wasteful lifestyles, were the only real tangible problems within this mystery.

As I walk outside to work in the morning I’ve noticed two things as of late. The recent chill in the air, and an old lady who meanders back and forth in front of my apartment most of the early AM. This old lady will take us somewhere else.

There is a long dissecting staircase that leads up the hill behind my apartment and up into the forest. It’s a forgotten staircase nature trail that was commissioned by the school in the olden days. These days the only person I’ve seen wandering up this trail is said staircase madam. At the top of this trail, is a slight hidden trail to the left which leads to an open bluff. You can look out across this bluff and take in scenery for kilo-miles. As I am close to the DMZ, it’s quite interesting to observe the activity of a small Korean base, and some road checkpoints which only military components are allowed to cross. Other than this there are only leveled rice fields and mountains. It’s a place I often bring my binoculars, a bottle of wine, and/or a good friend to. But more importantly, there is the staircase madam, she can’t bend one of her legs,-and she slowly takes steps as she swings one leg in an outward half circle as she hoist herself to the left with the rest of her restless body. I never really took notice of staircase madam, or wondered why she wondered about at 7 AM in the chilly mixed season air until recently.

Some days ago I jumped a fall hiking and did some serious damage to my leg and knee. Since then, I’ve often been in bed or hobbling about with a complex knee brace from which an engineer came to my house and built for my knee, along with, of course- your ever-old-school crutches. And this morning I find that I can’t help but repeatedly glance at the only other person that exist in my world who can’t walk. I suspect this recent phenomenon is related to the unfortunate and more common phenomenons of me not missing or appreciating things until they are gone, and/or not fully understanding the dilemmas or enjoyments of my youth until I am slightly only just, a little less, youthful. There’s not really an ending to this story; just me and the staircase madame.

A DAY IN LIFE (The heavy Version)

These days words aren’t coming as readily as I’d like to write them. I wake early, I eat tofu, I brush my teeth; most of myself-I invest into my students. The only other significant weekly interaction I have is with my co-teacher, which upon reflection, is a bit beyond my adjectative descriptions. His path, has almost completely been defined and layered before him, and yet, he is pleasantly sanguine while persisting an unusual insightfulness into the passing of his personal possibilities- of which, importantly-ironically, were never realistic choices available to him. Meets me, defined by my contrastingly open path, a lack of commitment to definition –me; and my late-blooming increasing opportunities arriving from a Western world. We glimpse each other’s world; and we are better for it. We are linked in a bright but dormant friendship by our mutual humbled open-mindedness; we relate in limited language; - we connect our concerns ever-so-slowly in a culturally wrapped world which is consumed with the fastness of Change. It is a world newly fraught with global definitions.

My interaction with the rest of the faculty and teachers consists of little or no words, sincere smiles, mutual respect, and mystery (none the better for my slow acquisition of the Korean language).

Afternoons are filled with surprisingly long forced readings of Einstein’s biography, Freud’s interpretation of dreams, a Korean culture book, painting, music, pushups, learning for a ripped version of Korean Rosetta Stone, jogging fall nights, avoidance of electronic media, and/or massive consumption of fantasy genre books, or, that is, none of the above.

These weekday nights, I’m recently thinking, are powerfully capable of defining me in the future. As a resident in a border rural town in the mountains one is tempted to distract oneself from their completely revealing solitude, or conversely, to somberly develop themselves from shortcomings into something new. This is the beginning of a new adventure, where once were youthful definitions of love.

Never Stop Learning:

Eun-bin’s paradox.

Every whilst in awhile, a glimmer escapes those reoccurring ironic shades of life. -Upon reflection; that is.

Ponder that in our 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and beyond we are still very capable of realizing very basic facts about ourselves. And furthermore, that if we have the courage to let go a little, to not so insistently insist on who we are, who and what are can change; can evolve into something entirely else.

A subject of honor; Eun-bin.

Singmang-ri’s biggest baddest student, a 5th grader, Eun-bin. In America, Eun-bin would be thought of within the term; ‘bully.’ But here, things are a little different (actually, students quite happily give up most of their tasty treats, and Eun-bin himself lacks the more sinister traits of your classical bully, in favor of a sort of tendency to be protective over Sinmangri’s students against outsiders-the real bullying typically happens very collectively.) It’s a sort of basic contrast between collectivist and individualistic cultures.

And yet; I’ve been here a year plus now; I’ve gotten to know Eun-bin quite well. In truth, he is easily among the sweetest, the most caring; a quellingly sensitive student.

And here is where I’m struck! Will Eun-bin ever realize the simplest truths about himself? Do bullies ever? Do we? Aren’t bullies usually the more sensitive one’s we know; deep down pretending to be rough and tough? To learn anything from Eun-bin, I’ve to look to myself. Respectively, to teach Eun-bin anything, I’ve to look to myself.
And some weeks, I do.

It’s the scariest part of teaching the youngest ones.

What the teacher is, is more important than what he teaches. ~Karl Menninger

Don't try to fix the students, fix ourselves first. The good teacher makes the poor student good and the good student superior. When our students fail, we, as teachers, too, have failed. ~Marva Collins

To teach is to learn twice. ~Joseph Joubert

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn. ~John Cotton Dana

Wheelbarrels of Fire

Uniform rivers and rocky shores; this is the part of Korea that is so mountainous advancing civilization has left it behind.. -Majestically So- …It’s April, and winter has finally broken, as it has carried even though march. We are on a two day field trip-30 students/6 teachers. I’ve no real idea where we’re going, and if I did, it’s likely I’ll forget. These Long winding bus rides through the mountains come with a certain nostalgic sense of escape. Fondly enough, they seem to lead away from circulating thoughts and towards childhood memories..
The only prelude I have to the future lies somewhere between the rum bottle nestled in a teacher’s handbag to my right and the wildly chattering kids in the countless seats ahead.
End.
This week we will venture to islands. (It’s now may.) May is a sort of additionally carefree/happy month for teachers in Korea. Canceled classes and special ceremonies often lead to a nice bit of lounging in a teacher’s room adorned with Korean pizzas and boiled potatoes dipped in sea salt. Next week-will follow with a day of sporting event amongst the teachers of our county/province. As one of the teacher teams, affiliated by each school, we will compete in ‘a what team can communally jump over a jump rope the most many times’ contest and ,in joku, (a sort of hybrid sport somewhere between soccer and volleyball).
Drills of fire and war also occurred this month. Mr. Han our beloved groundskeeper lit a wheel barrel of sticks and newspaper on fire on the play ground while a lucky student got demonstrate putting it out with a fire extinguisher. The drills also came complete with smoke bombs, and as one looked out the windows in reaction to the off-going alarms smoking parades a' plenty sauntered by.
…My co-teacher informs me that last year’s drill also involved fire trucks, and students climbing out of windows on to extended ladders (due to a minor student fall of the ladder incident last year we no longer do this).

Over all, as I reminisce over islands and wheelbarrows of fire I can easily claim this was much more exciting than any American elementary day I had. Well; - except my first crush of course..


An afterthought-
A way to translate the adventure and possibility here through the simplicity of a local pizza MenU..

(approximately 1/10th of the menu)

Pizzas
Octo-Shrimp
Mustard bacon Idaho potato
Bacon salami
Sweet potato
Barbeque rib
Cheese


Chicken
Calcium flavored chicken
Cracker chicken nuggets
Gold strip golden cubed

I, find that I, a somewhat shy American, am a bit of a paradox here.

Well Anyways, I think it important to assimilate as much as possible when adventuring in a cultural experience. For me, simply put, this has become something like a desire for “walking in another man’s shoes”.

Well anyways, …If a fork finds my hand, I find it’s usefulness lacking. It seems chopsticks are much more a natural extension of my hands. Much more; handy. There is no “cleaning” my plate, -no, Finish your food!... because, well,… I have no plate. All plates of food are communal. I find myself struggling to come terms to with the idea that my appetite has somehow become more communal. That, in fact, my desires themselves should or are becoming much more collective just as my plate has..

Ironically, here, cooking fried green tomatoes.

...It is quite tacky to try and split of a bill when eating out(at least in the deep countryside..be reminded there is a difference in Seoul and a town without a grocery store). During summer camp-, we cook for each other or we buy each other dinner. And so, I find myself frying green tomatoes and assembling bacon lettuce and tomato between pieces of bread. Not the best. But they are blown away that a young single male would even attempt to a cook. Males, can be quite useless other than the work place, until they get kicked out. But, well, they don’t get kicked out, and that’s just dandy. Only,…… the allure of a woman would take them from their mother’s care. (p.s. American men are just as useless) seems to be a global problem…:)

There is a lot I could say, there is a while since I’ve written. I can say things like …. I Experienced new things, I rode an ostrich, I went on to a snowboarding resort for Christmas, I experienced acupuncture, ate larvae’s and king crabs, sipped mudfish soup and congealed cow blood brews, I lived quite alone and peacefully, I experienced the big city, I rode trains, subways, and buses; I learned to travel communally.., I sang karaoke with complete strangers, and got naked at the public bathhouse, I gave my seat up to an elder always, and experienced their kindness and smiles,…. I gazed at the mountains.


I laughed with doctors, drank with teachers, lived life with foreigners, taught children, rode next to train conductors, and sang with businessman.

…I learned that occupations mean everything and yet nothing.

Little did I know, I hadn’t quite learned either in the u.s…

….And it can seem quite impressive or that ive accomplished quite a bit. But, honestly; surely, the biggest changes and accomplishments, has been me, almost daily, in a classroom full of children, interacting, trying to find a way to give them what I can, always…. And them, surprisingly enough, them teaching me how to grow out of my own childishness.


It’s January now. The last time I had this much time off work, I was a teenager,… I am reminded that people are capable of things other than work.
.. It is the coldest winter I have ever experienced. Unlike the southern U.S. it is consistently cold. Even being surrounded by mountains whose grace shows best in the snow…I’m longing for the spring and warmth.

..Yep…,

i said it before, and i'll say it again, life moves by pretty fast; you don't stop and look around every once in a while- you could miss it- Ferris Bueller