Mrs. Joe

Mrs. Joe is the manager of the hogwan I work for in Jilyang. She was the "secretary" in my previous posts because, from my perception, she performs the duties of a secretary. She handles the paperwork, cleans the work area, and watches kids when they misbehave. If I need copies made at the last minute, then I point to the pages and say the word for copy in Korean, and Mrs. Joe, who doesn't speak much English, will make copies for me while I entertain the class.

Mrs. Joe isn't the secretary though, she's the manager. She fits the bill on my pay day, and her position includes decision-making powers. Last week, we took the students outside for the second half of the class to the traditional Korean market because Mrs. Joe thought it would be a good promotion for the hogwan. Other parents would see the kids speaking with me in English and be impressed enough to give the English Clinic a ring. Mom and Pop would be willing to pay 120,000 won for two lessons per week or maybe even 250,000 for four times per week if they witnessed other children speaking in English to a native speaker. (Justin told me the rates yesterday at our meeting.) We also discussed the market day at the meeting, which for me, was more stressful than helpful. Truth be told, it was the day before I decided to start "fighting" for happiness. Though I gave my honest opinion, Mrs. Joe thought we should try the market again and circled the second Tuesday in November, designating the day. Neither Justin, Agnes, nor Patrick, who agreed with me about the outcome, uttered a protest. So I had to agree.

"She saw some positive factors," said Justin. "So she wants to do it again."

The Wednesday after market day, Mrs. Joe came in to my classroom with a short math problem written on her notebook. She showed me how her age minus my age makes a fairly large number. Therefore, I'm a baby to her. At the time, I thought she was sending me some kind of message, like I needed to respect her more or something, but Patrick said age is just really important in Korea. In fact, technically, I should use formal language with him even, though he is only one year older than me.

I thought about what she said for a while. Puzzled. Then I went in, and apologized, in my broken Korean, for being sad on market day. I told her that from now on I would be, "Fighting!" She pointed to my engagement ring, and said something in Korean, I think about me missing my fiance. Then she gave me a hug, and I teared up pretty bad. It felt good to be hugged.

So with Halloween quickly approaching, Mrs. Joe thought it would be a good idea to celebrate. I agreed.

Mrs. Joe wanted to know if she should make a lot of food. I told her, through Justin's translation, that candy or something small would be fine and that I had a plan.

Mrs. Joe printed off information in Korean about trick-or-treating in the United States. I printed off masks from KizClub.com for students to cut out and decorate.

Mrs. Joe bought a couple bags of candy and put them the kitchen. I bought a dozen glazed Dunkin Donuts and orange string to hang them from the ceiling.

Mrs. Joe ordered costumes online, including a Mickey Mouse hat and a scream mask, for Patrick and I to wear on Friday. I snatched a bunch of toilet paper for a mummify-your-classmate game.

I found Michael Jackson's thriller and Monster Mash on Youtube and played them in the background today during my first set of halloween parties. Mrs. Joe served as the judge for the mummy game and took some nice pictures.

After my last class, Mrs. Joe had another good idea. She suggested we call the parents for tomorrow night's classes and see if they would be willing to have us come trick-or-treat at their houses. I told her, through translation again, that students who saw what I was doing with the other classes would be disappointed to not play the donut game. (I told the kids, "Don't worry. Tomorrow, we will have your Halloween day.") Truthfully, I was upset because I knew her plans would trump mine. Why did she always want me to go along with her new idea at the last minute?

When I went home for dinner and thought about it, my reasons became more and more silly in my mind. Students won't complain about going trick-or-treating, even if they had to give up a donut game. If anything, I'm just disappointed that I won't be able to watch students fish after a swinging treat with their mouth tomorrow.

I should trust her and respect her opinion more readily. Not only is she my manager, but she is a "harmoni" in Korea. A grandma. A respected old woman. She has a lot more life experience than an amateur teacher like me. Besides, she really cares about me. Patrick told me so. Evidentally, she worries about my appetite, my boredom, my loneliness and my skin problems.

Here is one of my classes playing the donut game. I'm glad to have played it once. (Forgive me. I'm not much of a videographer, especially when I start laughing.) Go, KaJin, go!