Tacos for Korean Kindy Kids!

So, I was able to convince my hagwon to let me do multicultural days with the kindergarteners. I'm really excited about this because I think the kids can really benefit from experiencing other cultures, especially since Korea is so homogenous. Anyway, we kicked off multicultural day with a lesson on Mexico and the most ubiquitous of Mexican foods, tacos. 


Oh! And the kids got to wear "taquero"/"taquera" hats.


:)

The First Tortilla

My students and I have been reading some stories in their American English textbooks that have to do with Mexican culture and therefore mention tortillas. 


They first learned about tortillas when they read, "Mama's Birthday Present," the story of a little boy who plans a birthday party for his mom and is able to get her a piñata, a musical performance, and fresh tortillas made by one of their family friends. 


This week, they just finished reading, "The First Tortilla," the story of a little girl who saves her village from drought and starvation by asking the mountain spirit for rain.Because of the fact that none of them had ever seen or tasted a corn tortilla, which is what this story is about, I searched high and low until I was finally able to get my hands on some of these and bring them to the kids. We didn't have a real stove at the school, so I had to make do with a little oven. They didn't turn out quite the same as if I had used a stove top, but I guess it was good enough. 

^_^

Frustration Rant

It’s happened. I’ve been here for a while now and I’ve been trying hard to fight it, but it seems my attempts have been futile and I’m finally gonna have to cave to the societal pressure and norms here. Let me explain. 


When I got to Korea in October of 2010, I realized that I stuck out like a sore thumb. I knew that I thought, spoke, moved, acted, and LOOKED different from everyone else here. It started on the first day of work at my first school. I got there and immediately everyone stared at me like I was some sort of circus act. All the kids started pointing out how much taller I was than all of the other teachers at the school, how my eyes were just SO BIG, how I have double eyelids, how my face was much smaller than theirs, they all wanted to know if my hair was permed (teach-ah, pama?), they asked me if I was from Africa (apparently all people with dark skin are from Africa), the younger kids kept trying to grab my boobs to know what big boobs were like, and they were all very quick to point out that I was fat. 


I tried very hard to be patient and explain everything about myself. 
“Yes, I’m tall because I’m American and we drink a lot of milk.” 
“Yes, my eyes are ginormous, even by American standards, because my dad’s family has big eyes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only have one eyelid per eye.” (Google double eyelids if you want to know what they are.)
“I’m sorry, what?? What are you talking about? My face is not smaller than yours. Your face is fine. You’re gorgeous.” 
“No, I don’t have a perm.”
“No, I don’t have a perm.”
“No, I don’t have a perm.”
“No, I’m not from Africa. I’m American, despite the fact that I don’t have blonde hair and blue eyes.” 
“These are my boobs and you will not grab them or I will smack you!” (Just kidding. I didn’t really say that, although I really wanted to.)
“Yes, I know I’m fat. Thank you so much for pointing it out so bluntly.” 
That last one did not just come from the kids, but from too many of the grown-ups around my neighborhood, as well. 


I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t bother me that so many Korean people used to take the time to stop me while I was walking down the street and tell me that I was very fat. Honestly, it sucked hard. I never really thought of myself as being all that big. Yes, I know I’m chubby and I’ve dieted before, but I really didn’t think I was that big when I got here. I was exactly the average clothing size for an American woman. But Korean people, and especially Korean women, are not at all like American women in that respect. They’re teeny-tiny. As a matter of fact, I was just having a conversation with one of my students yesterday and she told me (very proudly) that her mother is 161 centimeters (5’3”) and 45 kilograms (99 pounds). Now, I’m no expert, but I’m looking at the Rush University Medical Center website and according to their ideal height and weight chart, she’s actually underweight (ideal for 5’3” is anything between 104-127 pounds). By that same token, I know that I’m beyond what my “ideal” weight would be for being 5’9”. I’m also aware that she’s closer to her ideal weight than I am to mine. Still, being my size didn’t really bother me very much. It bothered me that people were so rude about it, but my size and weight didn’t really bug me. 


Actually, I decided to take all of the things that were so “weird” about my physical appearance and own them. I mean, really own them. I decided to stop wearing bigger clothing that would hide my curves (boobs, butt, and hips) and just wear whatever I thought was cute. I decided to stop straightening my hair every day and just let my hair do its thing. I decided that I would flaunt my skin color (I never thought I’d have to flaunt it, since so many people back home either had skin like mine or they paid a lot of money to get a tan like mine) and be an advocate for the, “Just because we have dark skin doesn’t mean that we’re sad or evil” crowd. I decided that I would own my giantesque eyes, but also point out that their eyes were beautiful as well. I decided that I’d strut down the street, proudly, because of the fact that I can see clearly over the heads of the vast majority of the people here and that I never need a stool to help me reach the jars on the top shelf. I even owned the whole “small face” thing, even though I still don’t really know what they’re talking about. But, overall, I decided to really own my size. 


Too many of them seemed to have this idea that because I was chubby, I was automatically ugly, undesirable, lonely, and pathetic. They would make comments like, “Maybe if you lose weight, you will find man to want to be your husband.” My response, at first, was always that I actually had a boyfriend and that I had been engaged twice previously, but I decided it wasn’t for me. After a while, though, I just realized that I didn’t need to explain myself and that I should just be me and enjoy myself regardless of how many rude comments I got. As it turns out, I actually did end up losing some weight because of the difference in life style here compared to what it was back home. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was nice because I wasn’t even trying.

Anyway, up until today, I am still chubby and I’ve been ok with it. The only thing that has really bothered me is the lack of clothing that actually fits me in this country. It’s bad enough that I already have limited options because I’m so much taller than most of the people here, but another major problem is that pretty much all of the clothing that is sold here is “One Size”. That means, obviously, that they only make it in one size and your choices are limited to either making sure that you remain skinny, or you walk around naked… 

I don’t know about you, but I have a little bit of a problem with the idea of walking around nakers, no matter how much I own my curves. 

I’ve tried ordering clothes from back home, but the problem is that it becomes astronomically expensive and inconvenient to buy clothes from home because… 
A) I’m always running the risk that they won’t fit well because I can’t try them on first. 
B) I have to pay for shipping to get them to my mom’s house and then I have to pay shipping to have her send them to Korea. 
C) When I buy from a website that delivers straight to Korea, the clothes are disgustingly expensive and then Korean Customs holds my package for ransom at Incheon Airport because they ALSO feel the need to charge me import taxes. 
By the way, Korea, we need to have a serious conversation about your lack of logical thinking and consideration when it comes to this. If you were to simply make clothes in a variety of sizes, all of us non-underweight (and I do mean non-underweight, not just chubby) people would be more than happy to purchase our clothes from you and you would get ALL of the business, instead of being bitter about us buying clothing from abroad and then slapping us with a major tax. But I digress…


I recently started looking at other options because buying clothes from home was just completely inconvenient and hugely costly. I decided to try to have a tailor make simple clothing for me, so I went with a friend to buy some fabric and then took it to a nearby tailor to have her make me a skirt…
THE WOMAN WANTED TO CHARGE ME 5O BUCKS TO MAKE ONE SKIRT!!! And she didn’t even have to go get the fabric because it was already there, sitting in front of her!! Maybe If I was back home and a tailor told me that it was gonna be $50 for one skirt, then I wouldn’t be so upset because the cost of everything there is MUCH higher than it is here. 


I’m sorry, but that’s below the belt. How much more difficult can one place make it for someone like me to be able to wear clothes? 
I can’t find clothes that fit me here. 
I can’t order them from overseas because I have to pay for shipping, shipping again, and then import tax. Seriously, my cost for clothes here is astronomical.
And I can’t have my clothes made for me because the tailors take advantage and jack up the prices. It’s almost as if they all got together and thought, “Hmmm… What else can we do to completely destroy their sense of self-worth and dignity? They refuse to look the way we tell them they have to look, so we’ll just f*uck with them until they cave.” 


Well, Korea, you did it. Congratulations to you. I have finally decided that I am going to lose weight so that I can just buy some freaking clothes and try to salvage whatever is left of my dignity. It’s not bad around my foreign friends because I know they get me and that they accept me for who I am. My dignity is still intact when I’m around them. But seriously, Korea! You know, people are different, and that’s ok! Stop trying to make everyone fit into your cookie cutter idea of what everyone should be like. 


Anyway, my friend and I decided to go on a strict diet and work-out program so that we can lose some weight and finally be able to buy some clothes. They may still not fit because I’m so tall, but at least it’ll be easier to buy shorts, t-shirts, and skirts. Shoes are a whole other Oprah that I won’t go into right now. 


*Sigh* You know what, Korea? I love you, but sometimes you drive me nuts when it comes to things like these. I’m going to go ahead and lose the weight, but there are things about me that I refuse to let you change and that you can’t change even if you try. 


Me llamo Marisol Tena. Soy Chicana y tengo la piel morena. No me vengan con sus cremas blanqueadoras, porque yo no las quiero. Tengo el pelo chino y alborotado y no lo quiero controlar. Soy alta, tengo curvas, y si ustedes no las aprecian, creanme que otra gente si lo hacen. Espero que con el tiempo ustedes vean la belleza en otra gente de la misma manera que nosotros hemos visto la belleza en ustedes.

New Year Tripping in Taiwan

Ok. I know it's been about 6 months now since I came back from Taiwan, but I finally finished the video of my trip. I make these long videos mainly for my family back home because I know they're the ones who are most interested in knowing how my life is going and what it is that I do on my trips to other countries. 


If you're not a family member but are still interested in watching my longer videos, congratulations! You're on my list of cool people. Not that it's a requirement for being on the list, but it definitely gives you a leg up. 


=)

We're Gonna Chill...

Some of you may think that teaching English as a second language might be boring. There are a lot of grammar lessons, a lot of vocabulary tests, and a lot of slow-talking involved in what most people think of as ESL classes. Well, not necessarily. 


It doesn't have to go that way. There is a lot of that stuff involved in my classes, except for the slow-talking. I refuse to slow down to a condescendingly slow speech speed. But aside from that, there is a lot of room, I think, to play with the language and have fun with the kids. I do, of course, teach the kids the "proper" way to speak, but we also joke around a lot and they now understand such things as, "Art thou ready, my dears?", which they get is a very old way of speaking. Another thing that I do with them is that I randomly insert different colloquialisms from different places so that they get a sense of how the language is actually used by native English speakers rather than just how it's done by the book. In this case, I inserted one of my own colloquialisms from back home. 


Enjoy!  =)


P.S. Most of these kindergarteners didn't speak or understand any English a couple of months ago. I think their homeroom teacher, Stacey, and the rest of us have been doing a pretty good job (if I do say so myself).

Where In the World Am I From?

*Sigh*

There's something that has been on my mind for years now but has been really bugging me recently. Ever since I was a kid and I started school, I have been hyper-aware that my last name is not very common in the U.S. My schools never had any other students with my same last name unless they were my siblings. This was, apparently, also the case for hospitals because once when my mom went to a hospital in L.A. and someone took her name to check her in, they immediately felt the need to call a nurse who had the same last name and was shocked to meet someone else with the same surname. She very briefly interviewed  my mom about her last name and exchanged phone numbers with her. This was probably not standard hospital procedure, but it goes to show how uncommon we are in the U.S. And we're even more uncommon here in Korea. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the only one in the entire peninsula. It's a very lonely feeling. 

Anyway, I know that my family is from Mexico and my dad, specifically, is from  Michoacán . I've been there before. It's a beautiful place. But that's not where my family name comes from. It's not an indigenous American name. It's a Spanish name. That much is obvious to me. I do, as most other Mexican people, have Spanish blood in me. I have done some research throughout the years, and found that there's even a valley in Spain called Valle de Tena. The problem is that I can't, for the life of me, find out what the name means. What's the etymology of the name? Who named that valley so? Why? I can't remember where it was that I found this, but I think I remember "Tena" translating over to "tent". So in essence, Valle de Tena would translate to "Valley of the Tents". The problem is that I can't remember where I got that from and I can't find it on the internet anymore. 

There's another thing that I wonder about. It seems that during the Middle Ages, this valley in the Spanish  Pyrénées was swamped by "rebels" who were trying to escape Romanization (Christianity). This included many Muslim people. So then, is there a possibility that Tena is an Arabic word? How do you say "tent" in Arabic? Had the valley already been named by the time the Moors got there?

To bring it back to more recent times, I believe the first Tena went to the Americas in the early 1700's. I imagine it must have been a man named Manuel Tena because just about every Tena family in North America has a couple of Manuel men in it. I, myself, am no exception. My youngest brother is Manuel, my dad is Manuel, my grandfather is Manuel, and I imagine it goes on and on. I see a lot of Manuel Tenas on the internet whenever I google. 

If you have absolutely no interest in genealogy, then this blog probably just bored the living hell out of you. Sorry. lol. They're just thoughts that I randomly have to put down in writing because I don't want to forget them. I think that in all of the travel plans that I have, I'm going to have to include a trip to Michoacan, Mexico so that I can ask to look through official government archives and piece together my family tree. I also have plans of living in Spain for a couple of years. So if that goes as planned, I will have to do more research into the etymology of my family name while I'm there, cuz it's driving me nuts!!

Street Cred

As educators, there comes a time when we realize that no matter how good we may be at teaching, it's all to no avail if the students refuse to pay attention. It is exactly then that we learn we must earn our place as teachers to these kids.

But how do we prove ourselves? Well, I could sit there and explain to them that I've been working with kids for the last 10 years and that I have my degree in English and blah, blah, blah, but it would all go right over their heads and they wouldn't care about any of it. So what do we do? Sometimes we have to show them our softer sides. Sometimes we have to show that we're just as rough and tough as they are... And yet other times, we have to prove to them that we can be just as gross as they are. Especially when talking about 9 year-old kids.