My Directorial Debut: The Three Little Pigs

First off (and this is way overdue), I want to thank all of you for the encouraging feedback and support. It's great to hear that everyone seems to be enjoying my weekly rants... especially since I enjoy ranting. I soon hope to part with my fear of making big purchases and buy a laptop- at which time you'll see alot more pictures posted, cause it'll be that much easier...

This week proved to be one of the longest/shortest/most frustrating weeks that I have experienced in Korea. I was given three short weeks to turn my five year olds into actors and mount a stunning perfomance of The Three Little Pigs. You can imagine how well that went over. It began with my lead- my wolf, Ryan declaring that he didn't want to play the wolf, because the wolf is a bad character. Admittedly I dismissed his issue as another excuse to whine- because I've learned, that's what kids do best. He didn't seem to understand, first of all- that this version of the little pigs was different. The wolf was the good guy and the pigs manipulated him into looking bad. He also didn't seem to understand that my casting decisions were made based on the reading abilities of the kids- and Ryan is the only one who can read with any expression whatsover. In any case, this is how rehearsals began. The ordeal resulted in three phone calls and two letters from Ryan's mom, two long talks with Ryan about my casting decision and my interpretation of the role of the wolf as it is written in this script, and finally sending a script home to appease the crazy mother... and just like that- crazy mother and whining child were silenced. And it only took up two of our three weeks of rehearsal time. Then little Cathy got upset (you may remember Cathy as the little girl who's mommy bought her dog because she cried at school). Little Cathy has such bad stage fright that the stress began two full weeks before the show went up. And of course, little Cathy's mom also felt the need to write letters and call the school. Calls and letters which, luckily, were ignored by the Korean teachers who declared her mother to be another crazy parent. Now, having said in the past that my boss reminds me of an adult version of Stewie Griffin (Family Guy) - I should perhaps clarify. My boss is not as smart as baby Stewie... not even close. And so my preparations for the play were further complicated by his lack of familiarity with learning and the arts- oh, and not to mention common sense. With all the whining and crying that was happening in rehearsal time, paired with the fact that we were only given three rehearsal weeks to begin with- it became clear two weeks ago that the kids would not be able to learn the lines, and act out play. So I talked to my boss about recording the script onto CD and having them act out the play in time with the recording. Brilliant, he thought- but kept delaying the recording until we finally started this four days before we went up. And it took us three days to do this, cause my boss insisted on running the show straight through- instead of pausing to make sure that the kids could properly read the line. If someone screwed up a line we started from the beginning, despite the fact that it was all recorded digitally and we could have even cut and pasted from other recordings. Anyway, as you can imagine- all this chaos resulted in the absolute worst theatre production I have ever seen. Now I know what you're all thinking- well, yes Stephanie- but they're five years old. That's true- but it didn't help that our show was sandwiched in the presentation by dance routines choreographed by our Korean teachers- who in my opinion cheated by doing all their directing in Korean and made the kids look like damn talented cheerleaders... Anyway- the moral of the story is that I expect this experience to serve as a reminder of why I simply cannot ever again try to produce a play with children of this age. My directorial debut was a flop.

Now I recently learned that while I thought our school to be over priced at 500$/month, the actual price of attending kindergarten at this fine institution is 780$/month + 50$ for the (shitty) food + 450$ registration fee. Having said that, I was very eager to see the parents show up to this presentation- just out of curiosity, really. Had I known, I would have played it up. We should have officially started a biggest bouquet competition. Now maybe a single rose I could understand... for the sake of tradition- giving flowers as a congratulatory gift. But in my humble opinion, no child needs a bouquet of flowers bigger than himself. Who in their right mind would spend upwards of 50$ on flowers for children this young? There were 22 performers altogether and it should be noted that there were more flowers in that theatre than at some weddings I've been to... nope- in fact more flowers than any wedding I've been to. As one of my four years olds was leaving, I went to say goodbye- and commented on her pretty flowers. She held them up, smiled, said "Here," and walked away. And that's exactly what a four year old does with an expensive bouquet. Gives it away to the first person who shows any interest in them. Perhaps a sucker would have been a better gift...

Despite my frustration, this week did prove to be full of intriguing observations about the Koreans and their artistic habits. My boss (a man with precious little creativity), was determined that everything look exactly the way it did last year. And that he should show off his students as being absolutely perfect. Because that's the way kids are, right? Perfect? He pulled up pictures of the decorations, the set and the posters from last year- and insisted that everything right down to the font type and size on the posters be the same. And we spent two full school days preparing the kids for the ordeal that was to be their year end presentation. Is it any wonder this culture is so lacking in creativity? The kids were drilled for two days. Stand. Right hand over your heart. Pledge allegiance. Drop your hand. Sing Korean national anthem. Sit. Be Quiet. No, I mean it, be quiet. Listen to the speech of the graduating six year olds to the remaining students. Look intrigued. Listen to the speech from the remaining students to the graduating class. Look intrigued. My boss seemed to think that it was ingenious for the kids to give each other advise on how to proceed in life, just like they do at University graduation, he told us. Apparently he failed to see the reality of the situation being that this was kindergarten, and not University. And he seemed to have trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that "Good luck in the future," to a six year old, means I hope you get pizza for dinner tonight. Each of the children were given an award- meaning of course, that many of these were bullshit. Some were legit of course, Hardest Worker, Best Attitude, ect ect. But for some kids, all I could come up with was Best Dressed and Best Whiner... and I wasn't allowed to give out a prize for the latter. In any case, the rehearsal for the awards presentation proved to be the most tedious. "Stand here, Sally. No, here. On this X. No, face stage right. NO SALLY, STAGE RIGHT!! What's wrong with you? Oh Sally, cute and smart as you are- if you can't get this right, the whole show will fall apart. Okay- got that. Good - finally. Okay, now Sally- when you're presented your award, you bow to Mr Choi, put the certificate under your right arm and return to your spot. Got it? NO SALLY, YOUR RIGHT ARM!!!" Is it any wonder that poor Sally is so afraid of making a mistake in her colouring? Why does her acceptance of her Most Smiley award have to involve such detailed planning? Not to mention the fact that it made me look like a liar as my Most Smiley student was focusing so hard on trying to get everything perfect, that she forgot to smile. It's a good thing we threw in all those complicated steps, because otherwise I'm sure Sally would have blown her nose in her certificate. Or made a paper airplane with it and tossed it in my boss' face. Maybe I would have been the only one, but I would have been ecstatic if any of the kids had done this. At least it would have shown independant thought, and more importantly- kids being kids. I realized last night that my littlest kids are the ones that you seen in commercials, or on Sesame Street. They are so happy and enthusiastic about everything. They just can't contain themselves. If another class got up to do their dance or song, my Jr Baby Class was right in there with them... despite the frustration and insistance of the Korean teachers that they sit nicely and be quiet. Most of us sit nicely and are quiet so much of our lives that we let go of joy and spontaneity like that. Is that why? Social conditioning? If we had been told to sit nicely half as much as we have been, would we be happier people? If we had never been told this- if we were allowed to fully indulge in all of impulses, would we be more or less disfunctional? In any case, I think that I'm learning that I would make an absolutely horrendous mother. Surely I would overthink the impact of every decision I made and my kids would probably grow up being the most disfunctional of all. But I can't help it. I've had some Cat Stevens lyrics in my head for two weeks now, "As soon as I could talk, I was ordered to listen". And it's true. Childhood is so short- shouldn't we be permitted to indulge in it? Why can't we just let kids be kids?

Confessions of a Scattered Mind

• I was never the kid who won colouring contests. I always wanted the prize, but I just couldn't take it seriously. Couldn't focus on the task long enough to care. Couldn't color inside the lines- because I've always had a problem with authority (as my parents, my high school drama teacher, or any number of my co-workers and supervisors will tell you- experiment- take a poll). It has even been suggested on numerous occasions, in a-not-so subtle fashion, that I may benefit from some time in the military. To cure me, of course, of this problem with authority. The lines on those damn colouring sheets stood for something. They were borders- boundaries, not to be crossed- an instruction manual to a young child. A rule book for those too young to read. And don't even get me started on colour by number. As a follow up to my observations about the creative habits of Koreans, I experimented this week with what I have termed 'subversive colouring'. Yes, that's right. Subversive colouring. I passed out Cinderella colouring sheets to my Sr. Baby Class (my four year olds) - with pictures of those cute mice, Gus-Gus and good old what's his name. Now wait- hold that thought (the thought was Gus-Gus)- I should probably explain that if I am the most popular teacher at school, it is for three reasons (none of which have anything to do with my teaching abilities):

  Reason 1: I am still the only blond, blue eyed teacher. If I run out of things for the class to do, I can't go wrong with letting them play with my hair. And in fact they spend more time staring at the odd colour of my hair and eyes than they do their books- so I guess this is a full class in itself.

  Reason 2: I am the only teacher at the school who did not study education, and in fact did a theater degree, making me much more prone to stupidities in class time. Which of course, results in less actual study time. Crucial to the survival of the four year old mind.

  Reason 3: I inherited the previous teacher's super-pack of colouring pencils when he left. It comes complete with sparkly pencil crayons. And that's why they love me.

  Anyways, stop distracting me- you're as bad as the kids. So, I pass out these colouring sheets and I sit down with the kids to colour. And of course, the moment the super-pack of pencil crayons are on the table- they're fighting over the brown- because, as we all know- mice are brown. I drew great attention to my colouring by making a big production out of choosing a different colour for each part of the mouse's body (avoiding all blacks, browns and greys) and in the end it looked more like a patchwork quilt than a mouse from a Disney movie. They hated it. I thought I was going to lose an eye- they were very upset with me, insisting that mice were only one colour. Even when I told them that my mouse wanted to be twelve colours. Screw English class- I'm on a mission. If I teach these kids nothing but subversive colouring and covering their mouths when they cough, I'll be happy. I have eight months left. Is this possible? Perhaps ambitious- but I'm confident it can be done. I'll keep you updated. Oh- wait, and summersaults- they love summersaults.

  Last night I found myself at the Canadian bar in Little America to say good bye to my friend Michelle, who will be leaving for Newfoundland soon. We were about ten people- six Canadians, three Koreans and one American. The Korean girls began questioning me as to my impressions of Korea, and the more I talked, the more questions they had. The cultural differences never cease to amaze me. It took me awhile but I finally realized that not only have I seen only two Koreans with facial piercings, but I have not seen anyone with crazily dyed hair. No tattoos. One of the Korean girls asked my friend Glen why he had his ears pierced- and he quickly informed them that he had taken out seven of his ear piercings when he came to Korea, but chose to hold on to the remaining two. They looked appalled, confused. We tried to explain that this was normal in Canada- I told them that I had had my eyebrow, tongue and belly button pierced at one point. But the poor girls looked like they were going to pass out, so we stopped the body piercing discussion and moved on to tattoos. Tattoos are illegal in Korea. Not actually having them, but to sell the service is illegal. Last summer, apparently- one of the parents at Glen's school had shown up to parent day in a tank top (it was forty degrees outside)- and the tank top revealed that he had a large tattoo of a dragon on his back. Glen's boss came running over- instructing the staff not to speak to this man, as he was a criminal. He leaned over to Glen and whispered,"He sells DVDs at Youngsan". The criminal did not deal drugs, did not make his living stealing or through any horrific acts of violence. No, he is one of thousands of vendors in the city who blatantly disregard copyright laws and sell bootlegged DVDs on the street. Hardly criminal activity, in my opinion, as these booths are blatantly set up on nearly every street corner... As the hockey game started on the screen behind them, the two girls turned their backs to it and declared that they hated sports. And so began our next discussion- leaving them to question the femininity of any woman who would choose to spend her time playing soccer, instead of shopping. They seemed more horrified that I used to play soccer and basketball than by tales of Canadian body piercings. As I finished my poutine (with mozarella cheese, not squeaky Lac-St-Jean curds), a plate of nachos appeared on the table. The Korean girls asked if I would have any, but I said no- having just polished off a massive poutine. They smiled knowingly and said, "Ah, you're on a diet- aren't you?". There is something seriously wrong with this country when Koreans keep telling me that I need to lose weight. I realize that it has been four months since I've seen all of you- but I assure you, I have lost a few pounds at the gym- not gained any. I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. I just can't get over the absurdity of these questions. One of the girls replied, "Oh, I guess in Canada, you're average." When the plane landed at the airport, and I first stepped onto Korean soil, I had no idea that I was entering the land of 110lb fatties. Given that they had come just short of saying straight out that I needed to 'lose a few pounds', I was shocked by their next question; "Is it true, that Montreal has the world's most beautiful women?". It seems the reputation stretches far and wide. So what's the deal? If I am the average size for a Canadian woman- and they consider me fat- do they believe it possible for the most beautiful women in the world living in this 'land o' fatties? Despite my fears that there are some serious issues with female body image in this country, I find their honesty refreshing. In Canada, we steer clear of comments about someone's appearance, unless we know them well. Even then comments will be tentative and carefully worded. Koreans will be blatantly honest with you- and are just as likely to say that you're beautiful as they are that you're fat. And they acknowledge that you can be 'fat' and be beautiful, or thin and ugly- relationships that we seem to have trouble with in Canada...

  I have begun to think about the environment in which these kids will grow up. Their personalities, their strengths and their weaknesses are beginning to take shape. And I struggle to remember what I was like at that age. Being that I don't remember the end of the movie I watched last night, I have difficulty remembering what I was like at the age of five, which I was shocked to discover, was 20 years ago. As far as I know, I was exactly the same, just slightly shorter. And I do mean slightly. As I watched my boss's son the other day, it occured to me that he could be an amazing dancer. At the age of four, he already shows incredible rhythm. I wonder- did my teachers predict a particular career path for me? Did it come to pass, or did I take a different route? If we were to meet on the street today- would my kindergarten teacher feel a sense of satisfaction- having predicted what sort of person I would turn out to be? I ran into my grade seven homeroom teacher, M Dreyfuss, in Dorval airport last year. It had been ten years since I last saw him- but he recognized me, and strangely enough- didn't seem at all surprised to run into me on the opposite side of the country. Perhaps my teachers always knew that I would take advantage of my years in French school and move to Montreal. My years at Concordia proved to be, for many reasons, some of the most difficult years of my life. And now, having taken a giant step away from the situation, I seem to be able to see myself more clearly. For those who do not reflect on themselves, theatre school can open the door to an inflated ego. And to those who are prone to reflection- well, it seems you begin to do so even more. At nauseum. After spending four years in theatre school beating up on myself mentally- because not only do I over-analyse, but I'm also a perfectionist... not a good combination. I suspect, or have begun to suspect as of recently, that I am far too modest for my own good. Or perhaps it's not modesty- maybe I've finally recognized that I am impossibly hard on myself. I am very aware of my weaknesses- and yes, it seems others are as well, since they seem to feel the need to share their observations with me (and to those of you who have done so- well, thanks but I already know, please keep it to yourselves). But as people, as a society, we so often focus on the negative that we fail to see the positive. In ourselves and in others. To the point where we begin to lie to ourselves and to others. I am very quick to say that I am mathmatically incompetent- quick to make jokes about my naivete when it comes to the sciences, or these things we call computers. But I have difficulty admitting- as many of us do- that I also have strengths. Or I fail to see them as such, and toss them aside saying "Oh, but anyone can do that." In an age of mediocrity, are we afraid of succeeding? Am I? Of following what we know we're good at? Of committing? To commit to something is to take a risk. It's a lot harder to succeed if you don't commit, but if you fail- it hurts a lot less. I've always had commitment problems- I can commit to things that have little risk involved. Or little risk for me. But few things in life have little risk- or at least, few things worth having. And so here I am, determined to move past these commitment problems and begin to make them. My mother has always told me that she was first in her class in all subjects- all the time (and holds to this despite concrete evidence that there were some serious problems in the math - and by concrete I mean old report cards- my mother doesn't throw anything away). Maybe there are still things I can learn from my mother. If we shape the image people hold of us, why do we so often focus on the negative, if what we really want them to see is the positive? Year after year, Oma (my grandmother on my father's side) would lecture my father at report card time about his marks, and always insisted that he was capable of more, as she had always been in the top three students in her class (it was later revealed there were only three students in her class). Regardless of the fact or fiction behind these tales- the fact that they were recounted tells more about these two influential women than the (debatable) truth. They painted a picture for us to see. Though I did not know her well, all the stories of Oma point to the conclusion that she was waiting for her tale to be uncovered. For Oma, it seemed, was her second nickname- falling second to 'The Brat'. There is no doubt that by my mother and grandmother are intelligent people. And they've taught me something. To balance out years of dishonesty with myself, in being too hard on myself, I'm swinging the other way. I should be indulging in this trait that has been passed down through both sides of my family- from one generation to another. I have inherited this trait- this storytelling trait and I should take full advantage. Our family doctors insist on knowing every detail of our family past - our histories of cancer, diabetes, pneumonia, arthritis, epilepsy, drug addictions, alcoholism... the list goes on and on. Are we ever asked about the positive attributes that run in the family? Has anyone ever asked you if members of your family exhibit stubborness (this is positive, in my opinion), or determination? Indepedance or intelligence? Musical or athletic abilities? Not likely. Or at least, no one's ever asked me. Always questions about our medical history- and be careful, by the way- if you choose to skip the chit chat and answer - "Oh no, Doctor- no history of illnesses of any kind." Because if you forget the next time you're in, and happen to mention that you have diabetes in the family, or cancer- you'll find a certain impatience in your doctor, as she feels shocked and betrayed by your lies. Not that I speak from particular personal experience. My doctor no doubt has charts drawn up in an attempt to predict which hereditary illness will claim me first. Psychologists want to know about all the emotions that have been passed down to you from your parents, and grandparents and great-grandparents. And they don't want to hear of the positive ones. Positive emotions don't make for very good business. If I have to be reminded of all the unfortunate things that have been passed down to me by my ancestors, why can't I relish in the good things as well? And so, from this day forth, I choose to see myself with delusions of grandeur. At least for now. Unhealthy? Call it what you want. It's no less healthy than refusing to look at your own strenths. And exaggerated stories also make for better stories. Now if I could only remember the realities of my childhood, I would begin to elaborate and exaggerate these stories... but with my memory, it appears I'll just have to begin re-writing these stories altogether.

As Soon As I Could Talk, I Was Ordered To Listen

I am about to reveal something here that I am not sure I've told any of you before. So please keep it to yourselves. Here it goes - I've been exhausted since I got here. At first, I thought- it's just jet lag- it'll pass... but it didn't. Then I thought- it's just that I'm getting used to working with kids again- well now I'm used to it and I'm still tired. The other day, I came to the shocking realization that I am tired because everything I do takes such effort!! I have not ranted about the frustrations of not speaking Korean in quite some time, and I want to assure you that the problem has not passed. Despite all my wishes- I have yet to wake up, magically fluent in this strange language. The computers at work only have Korean windows installed - so everything I need to do on the computer becomes a bit of an ordeal - from cutting and pasting to deciphering the continuous stream of error messages that appear because the computers have gone to hell and my boss is too cheap to replace them. Same goes for the photocopier. I gave up trying to understand my washing machine at home- and I suspect that I've been washing my clothes in cold water as a result. The thermostat appeared far too complicated to even bother with- as it controls both the hot water and the heat... so I've simply turned it off until I need the hot water. If I leave it on, the temperature in the apartment inevitably climbs to 40 degrees and I have to open up the windows. When I went to refill my bus pass (bus passes here are recyclable plastic cards that you refill with money- to get into the subway you just swipe it by a sensor and it takes the money off...) - the machine ate my money and didn't put any credit on the card. But I can't communicate this, so I sucked it up and paid the thieving machine a second time. And most recently, my boss okayed me doing acting work during my time in Seoul. And so began the search for an agent. Well, my searches online proved pointless. Why in the world would anything come up in English when I search for agents in Korea? Seoul is a city that is trying so very hard to make foreigners feel at home- they go out of their way to do so. I was able to email city hall and they got back to me with a list of acting agents in Seoul. I was super excited. Could it be that easy? Nope. It couldn't. As I looked up all their websites, I discovered that only one of these agencies had an English website. So deciphering an address for which to send my headshots and resumes proved impossible. So I emailed. I feel digustingly unprofessional, but what other option is there? At least an email address is always easy to figure out...

As I was saying about the city's efforts to make foreigners (or at least their teachers, I doubt the same support is extended to the military) feel at home. Taxis are equipped with an English translation service- where the driver can call into the switchboard to have someone translate if need be. They hate to use it though. In fact, the Parisian man aside - the only jerks I've encountered here have been cab drivers. There is also a service- I think this is brilliant. If you're having trouble communicating in Korean, there is a number you can dial that will prompt you for your language- you press whatever - 1 for English 2 for Chinese - that whole deal- and your call is transferred to a Korean volunteer who speaks your language and will translate for you. For a country much less diverse than Canada, they've sure got it figured out. Seoul is littered with tourist information centres where the staff speak English- and as I said, if all else fails- email city hall and they'll write you back.

I had a class of three olds start the other day - can you imagine teaching three years to read to begin with? Now try teaching three year olds that don't speak your language! Ridiculous!! Apparently the new craze in Korea is for pregnant mothers to listen to English voice tapes, in hopes that their children will be born a step ahead of the other kids at the 500$/month kindergarten they will be forced to attend soon after their birth. In any case- these three years are not yet able to hold scissors. I taught them the other day, and nearly had a heart attack when the youngest girl began screaming at the top of her lungs and hitting herself in the face with her scissors. God knows it'll be my fault if the dumb kid loses an eye. One of the few random Korean words I have learnt is "Don't do that" - which in my case is a very important one to know. I got her to stop, but then she nearly cut her fingers off with similar nonsense. I'm beginning to think that the only reason for Korean age being +2 years over Canadian is so that Koreans can send their kids to school that much earlier and not feel bad about it. On average, I drag my Korean partner teacher into the class five times in forty minutes to explain to the kids don't do this or that, stop crying, no you're not sick- I know you want your mom- but... It's ridiculous. So for anyone who may be thinking about teaching in Korea- it is important to know that if your job says you are teaching kindergarten- that means three and four year olds. I'd advise staying away from the three year olds, as I may just tear my hair out any day now...

This past week, my interest has been sparked in the Korean arts scene. Because of a particular good band or poignant movie? Not at all. More because I can't imagine where Korea would be without the few artists they have. I passed out 101 Dalmatians coloring sheets to my five year olds last week, who unanimously refused to color the dogs because dalmatians are white. I told them to pretend that they were pink, they replied that they couldn't because in life, the dogs are really white. Its interactions like this- with five years olds, that lead me to believe that there are huge problems in this country. When I step onto the subway at 9am- and without fail, every morning I am surrounded by men who smell as though they bathed in soju that morning, I wonder what place the arts hold in Korean society. Or for that matter- spontaneous, unorganized recreation. I suspect that overall Koreans see art as superfluous- as an artist is unlikely to make it to the top ranks at Samsung or LG. But I can't imagine a society more deeply in need of some passive enjoyment. Or active enjoyment for that matter. It occured to- or more accurately- hit me like a ton of bricks a few weeks ago when I realized that I had not seen even one Korean with facial piercings. No crazily dyed hair. No goth Koreans. As a matter of fact, it is a huge relief to see a girl on the subway in pants, and that alone seems to be subversive enough. I think their obsession with Louis Vitton and Prada is really just another example of a lack of creativity. Independant thought is not particularly valued here. Anyway- back to the arts- Koreans are very proud of their traditional mask dances - but I wonder if they actually find any value in watching it- if there are aspects of it that actually touches them- or are they at a complete loss when it comes to creativity? Do Koreans attend artistic events simply so they can say they did? I went to a Matisse exhibit at the Contemporary Museum of Art a few weeks ago and was shocked to realize that Koreans don't even know how to look at art. There was an enormous single file line that wrapped around the entire exhibit. And god help you if you were to break the pace of that line. No one stopped to look at this painting or that, they simply glanced and kept walking- ensuring that they were advancing at the same rate as all those around them. I refused to participate in this line. I walked against the line. I budded in and refused to move when I was interested in a painting, regardless of how many angry Koreans were trying to push me past it. It's a sad state of affairs when you can't allow yourself to enjoy an exhibit that you dragged all your children to, just to stand in line and say that you were there. Is this a direct result of schooling from the age of three, I wonder? Being told that there is a right and a wrong way to do everything from such a young age? It snowed the other day, for only the fourth time this winter- and the first time any of it stayed on the ground. The poor kids were staring out the window all day- and at one point even asked me if I could break the windows and let them outside. But their parents pay good money to have them sit in a chair and learn to speak English. No matter how much they whine and cry- these kids will not be allowed to play outside, which I think is a crime. It's amazing that a country so far ahead in innovation can be so void of creativity. I'm convinced that it is the country's artists who are responsible for the advances of technology- because someone has to be thinking ahead - and it's definitely not the general public. And I suppose they would be unemployed and more broke than the average artist if they were to pursue their love of writing/singing/acting or what have you. A stiffled people, although there are signs that cracks are appearing in the facade... there could be a rush of artists bursting into the community at any moment... Let's hope.

Here's what I don't get. Playing is a definite no-no for five years. You are supposed to be ready to sit at your desk for x amount of hours and study, at the age of three. No matter how much these kids whine, they will not be let out to play in the snow. But they go home and cry to their parents that they don't want to speak English and their parents quickly switch them over to a Korean school. Why are these parents so whipped? Whine and cry I did when my parents pulled me out of the English school on the corner of my street (complete with indoor gardens, trampolines, and swimming pools- who wouldn't cry?) and tossed me into French school. But had they pulled me out when I complained about it, I would definetely regret it now. What good is your child's American citizenship if he can't speak English? What message are you sending to your kids when they call the shots at five? These children will be terrors when they get older. My first battle with the kids when I started teaching them was to get them to stop tattling. There is nothing more annoying than being on break and having some bratty kid come running into the office screaming "Sally is speaking Korean!". After months of making them feel stupid everytime they did this - with responses like "Oh my god, are you bleeding? Did Sally break your arm when she spoke Korean? Did she pull your hair when she spoke Korean? No? Then why are you telling me?" - it has stopped. There was about a minute of silence. Then the whining began- which I personally see as a direct result of their parents jumping at their every command. I have one girl in my class of five years olds who cries everyday. She's been coming to the school for two years and still cries everyday. So we're all fed up and we ignore her when she's crying. Well a few weeks ago- she cried so hard (saying that her ears hurt- but that's her excuse whenever she doesn't want to do phonics) that mom bought her a dog. Yes, that's right. Mommy got in her big, beautiful car and came rushing down to the school to stop little Cathy from crying by getting her a dog. Good going, Mom. I bet she learned her lesson. Probably why she cried so damn hard last week when she broke her pencil crayon. Sorry- I'm done my rant now. I have no patience for adults who are spoiled, and even less, it seems for kids. But I guess that's what you get for accepting a job at an over-priced private school.

Anyway- in other news- I won yet another battle with my boss this week. Air conditioning was installed in my apartment on Saturday and I won the right to do acting work (which I need his permission for, according to immigration rules). I say battle, but in reality I think he's learned that it's easier to just give me what I want than to argue. It cost him alot of money to get me here, and he's fully aware that if he doesn't keep me happy- I could easily jump ship and find a better job. And he'd be stuck with all the costs of bringing over another teacher... which isn't cheap. And so, the boss made the Princess happy and now she can sleep well at night knowing that her she can take a hot shower in her cockroach-free apartment- which will be nice and cool in the midst of the disgustingly humidity that is just around the corner- and if the Princess should fall down a flight of stairs and break her arm because Sally was speaking Korean- at least she knows it will all be covered by health insurance.

Canadianizing Korea?

• Here we are- the end of another short week. Last Sunday (for those of you whose faces I didn't rub this in), was Chinese New Year and so Monday was a holiday. Having celebrated New Year's twice so far this year, I encourage all of you to email me and let me know if your culture has a New Year's as well, as I would like to push for these days off, in addition to the New Year's I've already celebrated. This is a very important trick I learned from a co-worker at the Lobster Pit who claimed to be Jewish (there is no Jewish population in Calgary) and quickly declared New Year's, Valentine's Day, her birthday and several other random days as Jewish holidays. Management didn't know any better, so she was given the time off. Now that I'm in Korea, I figure what better time to take advantage of the situation?

  I've begun to wonder recently what the long term affects will be of all these foreigners in a country that has been so closed off to the world until quite recently. It is clear that English will eventually become a strong second language here (Koreans, by the way, seem to have no fears about losing their heritage or feel threatened by those that are able to speak English- which makes me wonder why the English and French can't live side by side without hostility in Canada? What is English Canada so afraid of?). It is evident from the amount of mixed couples that there will soon be many Korean/Canadian and Korean/American children. They will learn how to wear winter clothing (as I had to show some shop owners this week what to do with th idiot strings on my newly purchased mitts). They have already begun to say "Bless you" when someone sneezes. As God is my witness, by the time I leave, these children will cover their mouths when they cough. But what am I teaching them? Just English or North American social conditioning? Both? As an actor, I've spent a lot of time thinking about social conventions- and how they say a lot of the values of a culture, but also how they condition us to respond a certain way. To be a certain way. And I'm not sure that I like that I'm passing this on to another generation. Sticking them with another set of social conventions to pair with their Korean ones. Am I going to aid in creating a generation of children who cover their mouths whenever they are opened, for whatever reason (Koreans cover their mouths when they laugh)? Why are we so against the sight of an open mouth? My concern has little to do with social conventions- I'm just sick and tired of being coughed all over, and I blame these children for making me and keeping me sick a record four times in four months. I've taught them please and thank you, because they come off as rude alot of the time when speaking English. Korean is a very direct language and they rarely bother with such words as please and thank you. Shop owners will thank their customers for shopping with them, but when I thank them for the service they provided- they simply say "Naaaay" (Yes) and walk away. In teaching these children English, what sort of new customs will develop from all this? Are they in danger of losing their culture? Or just in danger of being confused- unsure where their Canadian customs begin and their Korean one start?

  This week having been only four days, it passed by fast. I was one kid short in both of my kindergarten classes, which was sad. Tom, who left from my class of four year olds (his mother finally believed me when I said that her son was brilliant) was paraded off to Poly school, our rivals from down the street. It was sad- I realized when Tom left that I have gotten attached to these kids really quickly, and they to me. By the time I leave I will have spent a fifth of their lives with them. That's just weird. In any case, in losing Tom to the Poly school (I hate you Poly), I lost my happiest student, my smartest student and my translator for my littlest class. Tom's one of those kids you have to watch out for, because you think he's too young to understand, but then you catch him laughing at something that he shouldn't have understood... The remaining kids in that class were pretty thrown by Tom's sudden disappearance- and were a little upset about it. One of them, my boss' son (Jacob), asked me if Tom had gone to Canada. And that's when it hit me. These kids are going to grow up hating Canada. All they know of Canada, is that it is involved somehow in all the most stressful experiences they've had to date- the departure and introduction of new teachers. Everyone who leaves the school goes to Canada and is never heard from again. This is something I think that we should be seriously worried about. An entire generation is about to grow up resenting a country they know nothing about, and by that point- their days in English kindergarten will be nothing but a distant memory. They won't know why, but something about Canada just won't sit right with these Korean adults. It will get in the way of their business decisions. Relations with Canada will suffer. Canada will be openly bitter that they are losing all their University graduates to a nation with 4% tax - and that despite their promises to return, nothing is certain. Koreans just won't know what to make of the discomfort deep in the pit of their stomachs. They will eventually resort to therapy- since all my kids are headed down the road of success, they can afford therapy (if their parents will shell out 500$ a month for kindergarten class, it can safely assumed). And after years and years, and many millions of won later, it will be discovered that these feelings of uncertainty and distrust result from abandonment issues, coming from their years at English schools and feeling as though they've been left in the dust, as their teachers run back to Canada- never to be seen or heard from again. Twenty years down the line, when I am 45, old and grey- I will be awoken at some god-forsaken hour - (like 9am), by pounding on my front door and screams of "Stepanie sansaynim!!!" And I will open the door to find, standing in front of me- Tom, Jennifer, Ryan, Sally and Simon - and they will demand answers. Why did you leave us? Didn't you think about how this would affect us in the long run? Why would you do something like this to hurt us after we loved you? After we gave you presents of Pepero and shared our kimchee? Why would you hug us, just to hurt us later? And it will occur to me, that despite the fact that I never had any children to call my own- my answer to Ryan will still be as true then as it is now. "Ryan, I don't need any kids, I have you! And I can send you home on Friday at 3:00!" Only in this case, I will be put in the same situation that so many of our parents have or will find themselves in. They, like me, will be forced to answer for the decisions that we made in our lives. All because a therapist told them that their hatred for Canada was all a result of a string of Canadian teachers running off at the end of their contracts. God I hate therapists!!!