Before I even walked into the 4-1 classroom, a tidal wave of smell slapped me in the face. There was an overwhelming stench of fresh excrement lingering in the hall which only increased upon my entrance into the classroom. At first, I thought someone had very impressive flatulence, and then remembered that I have the most impressive flatulence which was somehow still rivaled by the brown cloud swirling in the classroom. Maybe one of the dusty old sewage pipes that doesn’t inspire any confidence finally burst in the ceiling. As I stood behind the desk still holding my plastic file of textbook and class materials, the students looked at me…

I reached my limit with Helen’s homeroom class of 5-3 today. They didn’t recognize any of the warning signs that they were in dangerous territory, signs that every other class I’ve ever had has responded to immediately. I try to pause and then react when managing the classroom, and I don’t raise my voice, unless I’m trying to be heard over a speaking pairs game to signal the end. But 5-3 drove me to do something I haven’t done. I raised my voice at them. Class had been going on for 15 minutes, with incessant chatting from all corners of the classroom. Two boys switched seats back and forth as…

I returned to Seoul for a brief weekend getaway and was surprised how much more empathetically the city and I were able to meet each other. I met friends I haven’t seen since the Before Times and more importantly I paid tribute to a giant rubber duck. Like the most animal parts of ourselves, we flocked to the giant yellow monstrosity, ridiculing it but still ultimately showing up to gaze at its wonder. There was a kind dumpling man, a patient taxi driver that took us to a concert (whose accent I understood for once), London themed bagels because obviously that’s a London specialty, and an atmosphere of general ambitious,…

I visited the local dermatologist for my next shot. A month prior I tried to pop something on my forehead I absolutely shouldn’t have and ended up with an angry red infection and then swollen scar tissue. The receptionist, a sweet former high school teacher with excellent English, led me to the now familiar office and translated while the doctor gently poked at my face. “The bump is small now and another injection won’t do much. I think it’ll disappear on its own,” she translated for him. Aww. Well I guess I’ll have to just wait. There was a short discussion between the two while I sat on the spinning…