Dear Family and Friends,

With school officially out until March 2nd, it would appear, on paper, that I could be a lady of leisure. And the beginning of January did offer me a span of days for the solitary pleasures of resting, writing, hiking, cleaning, reading, studying, and thinking. Yet that time all too soon dissipated into rejoining the world. First, I went to Korean classes, then I enjoyed my first ever ski trip, and then all leisure time vanished into lesson preparation. Sadly, there was not too much leisure for this lady.

Soon lesson preparation actuated itself into class appearances at the Daegu Educational Training Institute, located high in the mountains northeast of the city. My days began at a starlit 6 am, when I would pull on layers, swaddle my iPod, and take a walk, puffing into the air. Afterwards, my limbs would tingle as they warmed in the shower and I hurried towards the 7:45 pick-up that my British co-teacher and I had arranged. During our drive, from my front seat vantage, I did not need be concerned as taxis changed lanes without signaling, as cars clogged our shortcut to the freeway. Instead I had the luxury to appreciate the orange ball of a sun mid-high on the horizon, pouring its rays through morning mists that cloud the city, pouring through the smoke and steam rising from the just-warming smoke stacks and industry that lines the highway. Eventually, my co-teacher driver would turn away from the traffic, the factories, the city… and drive into the hills.

On good mornings, we would drive past egrets picking their way through streams and rows of still-dark plant nurseries. We would wipe away window condensation to enjoy glimpses favorite riverbeds, wend through fields of still-frosted cattails, pretend not to see garbage in the fields, joke about the faithful police car that sat on one corner to prevent dangerous left turns, and speed past lumbering buses. At one point in our drive, the road began to lead up… and topping certain hills, turning through certain curves, would afford us breath-taking views of misty blue hills and descending rows of hibernating grape vines. Arriving at the Mt. Palgong training institute always involved a sigh stemming from appreciation of a glorious view, and relief.

There were 6 of us “native teachers.” My American self, my British co-teacher, a Canadian, an Australian, a Kiwi, and another from the States – resulting in a perfect blend of accents, male and female, and teaching styles. On the first day, per usual Korean camp procedure, we were dumped in our classrooms the moment that our first class began. And we found that we must switch classrooms rather than the students switching classrooms. I am not fond of the practice of switching classrooms - but the classes were easy to “teach” in the sense that the students were motivated and their level of English is comparatively high – and hard in the sense that every “student” was actually an experienced teacher, with high expectations. Some days went better than others, some classes were more enthusiastic than others, some students were more advanced than others. Some of the classes conduced by us natives included creating a tour of Daegu, compliments + a discussion of fashions, salsa dancing (!), Jeopardy, Simon Says (from a genuine Simon), and a discussion akin to Survivor. As time went on, I found myself playing the role of the friendly but hard teacher – I knew that other native teachers were playing a lot of games and felt little guilt in planning classes that challenged the skills of the teachers. My last two classes were a Clue-inspired revised murder mystery dinner party game – which was both hard and fun. Saying good-bye to the student/teachers just a few days ago was hard – there were so many that I liked working with. But it was also easy because the teaching was exhausting.

Anyway, each mid-afternoon, our teaching would end and for the return to the city, all 6 of us would shoehorn ourselves into the car. After one 4-hour post-car ride bout with carsickness, I settled into a permanent claim of the front passenger seat, simultaneously sympathizing with the driver and needling the back seat conversation. Our conversations were rarely edifying but always amusing. Then, almost as a rule, upon being jauntily jettisoned from the car near my apartment, I would trudge up stairs, twist open my door, drop my bags, set my alarm, and crash into bed.

January, for me, passed swiftly and quietly. Weekday teaching, evenings often dominated by lesson planning, weekends of Korean lessons and socializing. Now February has arrived and I am itching, no, burning to burst from my quiet. And so I shall. Soon.

Cordially yours,

Laura

PS: About my first ski trip: it was remarkable as one of the most unKorean experiences I’ve had in Korea! I had never skied before but was game - even when I learned that we needed to get up at 3 am! A co-teacher friend picked us from my friend’s apartment and then we soon boarded a comfortable bus to travel three hours north to a Vivaldi Park

"Vivaldi, as in the composer?" I asked. And was told "Yes - and all the slopes are named after different kinds of music." Hmm….

Anyway, we first stopped at an equipment rental shop, I pulled on a pair of ski pants that made me look like a mushroom and was crammed into a pair of ski boots. By the time we reached the slopes, my ski boots were almost painful. So soon after our arrival, I and one of my friends returned to the rental shop. On the drive back, it became evident that my boots were so tight that my feet had fallen asleep and I sincerely had to stop myself from yelping with pain. But we greatly enjoyed our conversation with the shop manager, who goes by the name "Big Choi."

Once the boots were bearable and we had returned to the slopes, the skiing was fun – although I show no aptitude for the sport. And the people watching was great. The only obvious signs that we were in Korea: the stuffed animal hats that the kids were wearing on the slopes. Ubber cute.

I didn’t get home ‘til 11 pm that night – long day! And the next day, I hurt. A lot. And yet, I’m determined to try skiing again. I loved the snow –and my crashing – skiing – is bound to improve!