A Girl and Her Bucket

We've heard the phrases, watched the movies, and read the books. We've made our own, torn it up, revamped it, tossed it to the side, thrown away in the frustration of the likelihood that we'll never accomplish the whole damn thing. Yes, the list that makes us feel adventurous when we aren't, poor, and young and old at the same time: The Bucket List.

This was the hype a few years back: make a list of 30 things to do before you turn 30 list. 30 before 30.  That name always bothered me. Actually, it infuriates me. Why would my list of adventurous undertakings end when I turn 30? Why the ridiculously early expiration date? Does this mean I'll have to store my backpack in the attic, where, years later, it will be discovered by my children. An antique covered in dust. They'll wonder to each other, "was their mother really a...hippie of some sorts? Did she go places? Do fun stuff? Surely not. Not this old decrepit woman who makes me eat vegetables." Does it mean that when I'm thirty my age will sentence me to a life of normalcy. Will my husband steer me towards the kitchen and say, "Hon, I'm hungry. I sure could use a sandwich." (Oh sweetheart, wherever and whoever you are, we both know this is a comical situation, and very unlikely to go down in our household, as you well know.)

So with my list I've put no age limit. Nor will I think that marriage or family means the end of my conquering of the list. (Neither should you!) My list changes. Frequently. But that is the beauty of it. It's not supposed to make me feel like a failure when I become overwhelmed at trying to accomplish everything, or too old, or too poor. I hope that instead it will spur me on towards continually discovering the wonderment the world and all her cultures hold. A challenge of sorts. Not one to wave in front of friends like showing off a passport that has been tattooed with stamps. A challenge to myself.  To dream aloud, to create art, and be surrounded by beauty.

 So no, my list isn't supposed to make me look fantastically creative. It was created with the notion that life begins in the unknown, outside of comfort. I can challenge my preexisting thoughts, expectations, and ideas about people, cultures, food, bathrooms, and what have you.

If you don't have a list, make a list. Let it encourage you to live life boldly and with a childlike curiosity.

Gotta Go. Gotta Do.

Read an original poem at an open mic night.

Scotland

Paris, France

Lake Como, Italy

Cambridge, Oxford, London, Bath, Cliffs of Dover, England

Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany

Complete my masters.

Figure out what I want my masters in.

Buy something for myself at Tiffany’s

Arnensee Lake, Switzerland

Learn how to jar pickles.

Take a ballet class.

Rock of Cashel, Ireland

Perform in a play.

Go surfing.

Learn to make Granny’s Red Velvet Cake

Sweden

Prague, Czech Republic

Krabi, Thailand

India

New Zealand

Master another language.

Cape Town, South Africa

Hug a redwood.

Norway

Cambodia

Maui, Hawaii

Dresden, Germany

Write for a travel magazine.

 And if that doesn't inspire you, then perhaps this?

"You call him, Dr. Jones!"

I had a TA in my university that I became good friends with, and when she earned her doctorate we littered her office door with that quote from Indiana Jones. It just so happens that her last name was, in fact, Jones. It fit. We congratulated ourselves on being cinematically witty.
Now that I teach at a place of higher education I want nothing more than for my last name to be Jones, so that it could apply to me. That, and I had my doctorate.

The first two weeks of uni teaching are under the belt, so I can confidently describe what this new world looks like. I teach English Conversation 1. Classes are broken into majors. Unlike, American universities where you sign up for whatever classes you need regardless what the rest of your classmates are doing (hello minor in Environmental Politics), in Korean universities you sign up for classes alongside what your incoming class and major are taking. Declare your major in your freshmen year and it's all decided on what you made on your Entrance exam (our SAT). So I have classes full of baby Engineers, Computer Communications, Sports Training, Psychology, Chinese Language majors, and then a couple of classes made up of a hodge podge of students with varying years and majors. Every student at my uni is required to take one year of English. Enter job security. This also means that we don't get the brightest crayons in the box. Let me assure you all now; just because they are uni students does not mean their English abilities are better. Oh. Oh no. Oh good Lord no.  I had a girl yesterday who couldn't count to ten. Remember, these kids have had English since kindergarten. Either all the English teachers were god-awful, or they retained little to nothing. I'm going with a little of both. That and majority of their English education was done in Korean. Because that is helpful.

For the most part, my students are baby freshmen who are pretty scared. They bow to me in the hallway and around campus, say "hello teacher" when they see me. I. Love. It. I've got a few cheeky ones. But their attempts to be "hardcore" are so pathetic. They wouldn't last long in an American high school. And I did. Bring it.

Classes are two hours long. I give the kids a small break half-way through, which awarded me applause this past week. The material isn't too difficult. Unit 1 was introductions. My name is, where are you from, I like, etc.

My schedule is a dream. Nineteen hours a week including the university's Language Education Center  (LEC) for the community. I teach three adults for three hours a week. And I get paid overtime for that. I'm done most days by 1pm. I have my LEC classes at 7pm, but I really enjoy those and that late hour doesn't bother me.

I have a department full of sarcastic people. I'm in heaven. We pretty much all get along, have a similar sense of humor and general enjoy going to lunch together. You might not see us inviting each other to be a part of the other's wedding party, but we enjoy our department. Which makes our jobs, and thus our lives, much easier. The people you work with make a big difference in your attitude towards your job.

The biggest difference I've noticed about this job, is how I feel as a teacher. When I taught high school, there was an infinite amount of pressure placed upon me and I don't just mean because of testing or the government, but about the students themselves. Were they eating? Did their parents hit them? Why is this kid screaming at me? Will this kid explode today?  Nope. None of that. This responsibility to be teacher, nurse, social worker, mother-ish, is reduced to just teacher. These are uni students. The responsibility to learn is purely theirs. I have my responsibility to be an engaging and informative teacher. I love teaching. It's what I do. It's what I'm called to do. And finally, I can just teach. Interact with my students and ENJOY teaching. Now, to get that doctorate so I can do this for a long long long time...

Some photos of campus and a hike I took this week on the mountain behind campus. More to come when spring is here, when Korea comes to life.

My main building, with my office.

The library. The place where you are least likely to find my students studying English.

School's motto. At the end of a hard day, just remember to dream and smile. Dream and Smile.

My wee little cubicle.

A courtyard in my building, with a coffee shop. Oh how I've missed you, university campuses.

It's official. I'm an Assistant Professor.

There and Back Again

I love Thomas Wolfe. I mean he's a fellow North Carolinian, his last name is Wolfe, and he's a pretty decent writer. However, that whole "you can never go home again" line really messes with your head. Can I? Why not? What secret knowledge do you know Wolfe?!
Well, I went home. I held new wee babies whose heads threatened to pop off if I didn't "support it". (I'm scared of babies, ok? Don't judge me.) I got amazing coffee from my old uni haunts and walked around campus with friends. Ate. Everything. Realized old crushes can be renewed. I sat around fire pits, drank beer, and picked up with friends as if I'd never left. Korea had been a dream. The taste of kimchi was forgotten. The road to my favorite park was remembered, even the pothole I knew to swerve around. (Come on Greensboro, it's been 10 years. Fix that thing.) Thanksgiving and Christmas food was made and devoured, and I drove a car. Everywhere. Oh that bliss.


Then I went to the Philippines with a couple of my Korea-made friends and was drawn back into what my life was like, what it was going to be in a couple of months. I was ready to return. I hadn't forgotten my love of Korea or my love of travel, the absolute need to pack a backpack and start trekking. No, I had just taken a break. I needed to hug babies and taste my mom's food.
There's this line in the song "Cups" that says it perfectly, "These feet weren't built to stay too long". And they weren't.

So I went home. And then I came back again. Take that Wolfe and Tolkien.

Some pictures of the travels.

Maine

My Mainer sister.

The Philippines

Nephew!

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