On History and Striking Children

by benrobins1

I type this with a 90p-equivalent bottle of wine in hand, pondering miserably on today’s brats and fanatically following Star Wars: Clone Warsin an attempt at geeky escapism. In lieu of having had any semblance of teenage angst in my youth, I am now going to school in the fear of being picked on, hit, insulted unintelligibly and called ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’.

We love this lady. She keeps us fed on odeng and hoddeok.

Green pancakes filled with honey, sugar and love. On the subject of ‘weight’…

Thusly I defend the reference to casual violence toward those younger and smaller than myself: the school is in possession of a number of admirably-designed implements for striking fear into the hearts of children, if not for simply striking the children themselves. I don’t want to worry anybody that this is a corporal-punishment-endorsing establishment, so to clarify: the weapon of choice is a colourful hammer which squeaks on contact. In response to this fact, I have spent the majority of my employment history in Korea re-enacting key scenes from any Marvel Comics films featuring Thor.

My own thoughts on child abuse/infanticide vary from day to day.

Not to say that all of my students are necessarily the spawns of Satan. A handful of the boys are wonderful and comparatively non-violent, and all but a maverick few of the girls are, by contrast, absolute angels. Included among this number are my adults’ class – a group of four ladies who make the teaching process a dream by not only not physically or verbally abusing me, but also by actually wanting to remember the words I’m throwing at them.

This Thursday – otherwise one of the two weekly lessons I have with Belle, Kelly, Nina and Michelle – myself and Meg were invited out to a walk by a nearby Buddhist temple, ‘to take advantage of the leaves’ as they insisted. They weren’t wrong.

It turned out to be highly educational for all involved; they proved to have suitable English skills to fill me in on the history of the place, and I regurgitated what Buddhist history I remember from secondary-school PhSE (Philosophy & Social Ethics to the layman) for their amusement and enlightenment – if you’ll pardon the pun.

As if this weren’t enough, they also insisted on treating us to an unfamiliarly sumptuous lunch of mushrooms, beef, acorn jelly (slightly less weird than it sounds), seafood pancakes and kimchi. Always with the kimchi. I neglected my camera at the time for the sage of ingestion.

I apologise in advance for taunting you with the following fact as I have no worthwhile photos to prove it – but, upon departure, we saw an elegant driveway rising up the mountain lined exclusively with ornately carved penises. The mansion atop the path was crowned with the most impressive architectural phallus I have yet seen and, if we do not return to this place, I shall be sorely disappointed.

From left: Meg, Michelle, Nina, Kelly & Belle.

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