As of an hour ago, I've finished teaching at Smoo. The feeling, right now, is one of sudden stoppage-- the fact that I'm no longer a teacher here hasn't sunk in yet (for those tuning in late: no, I wasn't fired).
Over the next few days, I'll be slapping up more nostalgia photos and messing with your head by scattering photos (and a vid or two) of the most recent crop of students through and among the older pics. You shouldn't have any trouble following: since the 90s, Quentin Tarantino has trained us well in tracing nonlinear narratives.
The office is quiet. It's Friday, and Friday is something of a "down" day in terms of class activity. Most of my own classes were Mon-Thu deals; the only Friday class I had was the Pronunciation Clinic, which met for an hour a pop, lasted just six weeks, and probably included only about three days of actual instruction.* Now it's just a matter of clearing everything out of the office, boxing everything up at home, throwing away everything unneedful, and shuttling most of my belongings to the people who have kindly volunteered some free space on my behalf. I am, as always, amazed at the various kindnesses I've received.
Pics later.
*The first session was diagnostic: I got voice recordings from the students and analyzed their weak points. The fifth session was the final exam and the sixth session-- today's session-- was the jjong-party. We drilled pronunciation the during the second session, worked on intonation in the third session, and did rhythm during the fourth session. No time for a comprehensive review in class, but I did have students come for 30-minute one-on-one sessions with me during the week to help them improve. This latter idea wasn't in the course description; it was something I'd volunteered to do for the students. It made for a weirdly symmetrical closure, too: when I came to Smoo in April of 2005, I immediately began giving one-on-one sessions to students who wanted more face time. Back then, too, I had students signing up for available time slots.
_
2 comments:
Truly the end of an error.
Ooops I mean era!
Which is not to say I won't be following you on your wondrous wanderings. I am going through a bit of Big-Ho withdrawal, but I'm working through it one day at a time. Best of luck.
-Staf.
We'll be back to Big Wholeness in a year or two. It's strange, but I'm already thinking about how, exactly, I plan to resume life in Korea once the Walk is over. By that point I'll be at or very near 40, and thinking about living in greater comfort than I have up to now. I've spent most of my adult life living in shoeboxes (like my current digs), but as I've carved down my personal debt, the potential for finding a decent place has grown.
So when I come back to Korea, I'd like to get an apartment-- one of those 24-pyeong split-level officetels with ceilings so high you can hang-glide inside them.
I'd also like to get a decent big-screen TV (flat screen, hi-def plus good stereo, of course), and a cutting-edge DVD player. I also want an old XBox with the original "Halo." I'm so addicted to that game that not even "Halo 2" could seduce me away from it. (Haven't tried "Halo 3" yet.)
I think I'd also like an oven. I enjoy baking things, but rarely have the chance to do so.
I definitely need a new computer. I've been using this old Mac since 1999, and the time has definitely come for an update. I'd like a Mac Mini. And here, too, a big-ass flat-screen monitor. Yeah.
With debt down, my old job back, and a decent place to live, I could then start thinking about finding a "funny little honey," as an American DJ likes to refer to girlfriends.
That would be a good life. Good enough.
Kevin
(did you catch the Frank Miller reference?)
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