Study Sessions
I’m 12 years old and staring at a Spanish test. The words are twisting together so that all I can see are blurs on the paper. I think I may actually be crying. I don’t even understand what I’m supposed to be doing, all I know is that I need to pass this test so I won’t get a bad grade in Spanish. I failed the last two tests though, and I don’t think I can pass this one either. I can’t do it. And I can only cry at how stupid I am. ****** The test in front of me has strange words swimming across it. They make no sense. I know that it is English, and I know that I recognize a few of the letters, but the rest is a mystery. What sound is that supposed to make, and what sound is my teacher making? She’s standing at the front of the classroom, reading from a paper with all the words we are suppose to know. But I don’t know, I don’t know any of them. My paper blurs, and my eyes sting. I know I’m too old to cry. I know that I can’t let anyone else see. But it’s not fair. I’m good at everything else. I pass all my other classes, so why can’t I pass this? Maybe I’m just stupid. ****** I’ve been in Korea for two weeks now, and I’ve been studying Korean for equally as long. I’ve mastered the alphabet, though in truth I had studied that before I even set foot on this continent. Back home I had the help and encouragement of half a dozen Korean students from the adult English classes I taught. They praised me for memorizing the alphabet so quickly, and they were excited to teach me words and phrases. It felt good, exciting. I couldn’t wait to get to Korea and show how much better I was with this language than I had ever been with Spanish, or Latin, or French. But two weeks in and all I could do was grit my teeth and complain as loudly as the students beside me that this was unfair. Why would the teacher cover their mouths when speaking the vowels and consonants? When would we ever be talking to someone without seeing their mouths? And when would I ever need to know exactly what vowel sound they had just made? How unfair was this test? And why, when I had been so confident the weeks before, could I not get it now? What was wrong with me? ****** There is a new English teacher today. She smiles at us and says hello. She shows us pictures of her home and her friends, and she talks about something. She seems nice, but I have don’t have a clue what she’s saying. Everyone around me is nodding in agreement, sometimes they even ask something, in Korean, or in English. But I don’t. I don’t ask anything, not to her. I couldn’t understand her anyways. A new picture is on the screen and there are people in it doing taekwondo. One of the students asks, in Korean, who they are. The new teacher doesn’t understand but our teacher, the Korean teacher, says something. The new teacher laughs and says something too I think. I don’t understand. I want to though; I want to know how she knows these people. I turn to my friend and ask him. When he doesn’t answer I ask again, and then a third time. Finally, I hit him. Why won’t he listen to me? The new teacher comes over and scowls at me. She says something I don’t understand. I do understand she is angry. She crosses her arms. And I cross mine. I hate English. ****** In a brightly lit and very cold room a woman hands me a certificate of completion. I have finished the intermediate Korean course offered at city hall. I smile, and shake her hand, laughing towards the man with the camera. My teacher pats me on the shoulder and says something in Korean. I don’t know what. But I smile and laugh and pretend to understand. After the ceremony, and after the dinner, I take a long bus ride out to my little village. Once off the main street the path becomes windy, and dark, and I have to wedge myself into the corner of the seat to keep from falling over. Outside the window the few lights from the small houses that line the road blur past, until suddenly we are once again washed in the yellow street lights of a main street. I get off the bus and wrap my scarf tighter around myself, shoving one hand into my pocket while the other one clutches the certificate. My fingers ache in the cold, even with the gloves. I want to drop the stupid thing just so I can get my hands warm. I want to leave it in the frozen mud where it will get buried under leaves and dirt, and by the time the spring comes again it’ll be unrecognizable. I don’t deserve it. I didn’t learn a thing in that class except that I am as bad at languages as I remember being in seventh grade. Instead, I take it home. I pack it in a box in the laundry room, along with all my Korean books, and both sets of notebooks almost completely filled. There’s no point in pretending anymore. I’m never going to understand this. ****** It’s the start of the new semester, and I’m on top. My new teacher likes me a lot, and my coach is proud of me because I helped to win the last match. She tells my teammates it’s because I never do anything halfway. When I get into the ring I go at it with all I’ve got, even if it means I might make a mistake. I put as much force as I’ve got into
City Guide Review: Geumgok Samgyetang (Daegu)
Nested at the heart of Daegu is a picturesque restaurant draped in ivy — home to some of the best samgyetang (Korean-style chicken soup) in Daegu. The best part is that the soup is MSG-free! Samgyetang is a traditional Korean chicken soup made with sweet rice and flavored with ginger. At Geumgok Samgyetang, the dish is served with some radish kimchi and marinated garlic.
City Guide Review: Yaetmat Seoul Bulgogi (Seoul)
Bulgogi (불고기) ranks up there with foods like kimchi and bibimbap on the list of Korean foods that are well-known to foreigners. Bulgogi is marinated, thinly-sliced beef that is usually grilled with mushrooms, green onions, and glass noodles. With its rich and savory flavor, bulgogi is a safe bet for those who aren’t a fan of spicy food.