Wise Fools

Since Chris and I both teach a lot of sophomores, we like to remind them every year that the definition of sophomore is that they are “wise fools”. It always gets a laugh from the upperclassmen who have very proudly moved on from that foolish age and are now self-proclaimed sages of the school, possessing all knowledge necessary to make it in the “real world”. As we enter our second year here at Seoul Foreign School, we can’t help but identify with these poor limbo-bound sophomores.

Having humbly survived our first year, it is incredibly satisfying to no longer be whispering to the person next to us in a faculty meeting about what the alphabet soup pouring out of our principal’s mouth actually means. We have learned to speak in acronyms and can carry on a conversation about IB, HL’s, IGCSE, IA’s, EE’s, and SYP’s with relative fluency. When a meeting is called in the LC, we know not only what those letters stand for, we actually know where it is located. So, during orientation week, we were feeling pretty competent as we reminisced about how far we had come in a year. Watching some of the new faculty roam mindlessly about with that all-to-familiar deer in the headlights look had us smiling in commiseration as we remembered the “sink or swim” feeling we had a year ago. But, swim we did and here we are with a bit more wisdom about the place we live and work.

However, I learned our second year in Taiwan to be careful during the sophomore stage to not be too overconfident. We no longer have the excuse of saying, “I’m new, that’s why I have no idea what’s going on.” That distinct privilege has now been passed to a new crop of teachers still trying to figure out where the meeting in the LC is. It only takes a small reminder as we leave our school’s campus and venture out into the city to see how truly foolish we still are. While we learned to speak SFS last year, our Korean is still pretty meager. Getting around in a taxi in Korean, we’re not too shabby. Ordering in a restaurant, so-so, as long as we stay within the specific menu that we know. Counting and being able to understand prices, etc.? I’m still terrible. Everyday conversation beyond hello and goodbye? Forget about it. The same is true for knowing our surrounding areas. Our neighborhood, we know pretty well. The foreign district and a nearby artists’ area, not too bad. Pretty much anything beyond that, we are lost, literally and figuratively.

So, here we are in limbo. We have gained wisdom in some areas but still come face-to-face with our foolishness on a daily basis. However, despite our precarious position, we have to agree with my Grandma who used to say, “There are no bad days, just some better than others,”… or maybe that was wine…

A Tale of Two Flights

“It was the best of flights, it was the worst of flights, it was the flight of wisdom, it was the flight of foolishness… it was the flight of Light, it was the flight of Darkness, it was the flight of hope, it was the flight of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all flying direct to Heaven, we were all flying direct the other way.”

Okay, so that may not be exactly the way Dickens wrote it, but I couldn’t have said it better myself. As most of you know, Chris and I had the pleasure of toting the BOGOs to America and showing them off in their first stateside tour this summer. My last blog dealt with some of my concerns about this tour, namely the transportation. Freshly off of our return flight back to Seoul, I thought I would regale you with the tale of our two flights across the Pacific Ocean. In order to fully grasp the contrast of these two experiences, I have pinpointed a few aspects for us to compare.

Boarding

Flight #1

Chris and I thought that it would be a good idea to bring the babies’ car seats on board to have a place for them to sit without us holding them. We failed to take into consideration the fact that we don’t have a car here and that the babies had been in their car seats a grand total of one time, and that was to come home from the hospital. As it turns out, they didn’t so much like being placed in those contraptions and screamed any time they were in them, including walking down the aisle to find our seats. I watched fellow passengers’ eyes fill with fear as we approached and then sigh with relief as we passed by. Who would have to sit next to the screaming twins for the next 14 hours?

Flight #2

Checked the car seats and therefore we had extra space to maneuver in our seats as well as have a place for the babies to lay down flat to sleep. Babies board the flight in our arms and therefore happy. I watch as peoples’ eyes melt into adoration at the stunning cuteness of our daughters.

In flight

Flight #1

I’m just going to say this: there were tears. Lots of them. And I will admit that they were not all baby tears either. Despite our most desperate efforts, the screaming that began during the boarding process persisted through take-off, the first beverage service, and on through dinner. I had to inhale my food standing in the back of the plane while bouncing a baby up and down in an only mildly successful attempt to calm her down. Finally, we were able to get both babies asleep while we held them. I’m sure that I don’t need to remind you that this was a long flight. A very, very long flight. However, needing to hold the babies the entire time made it difficult to do some things that might have made our journey a bit more pleasant like, oh I don’t know, go to the bathroom maybe? Too afraid that our breathing might shake the fragile sleeping state of the girls, the only conversation that Chris and I shared was of the utmost importance. Mainly it focused on how we would never, ever even think about doing this again.

Flight #2

After finishing a feeding during take-off, we spread blankets on the extra seats and watched contentedly as the babies drifted off to dreamland for their nap. During this time, Chris and I were free to move about, stretch our legs, and even enjoy dinner. I took full advantage of the open season on the restroom and even made a little time to brush my teeth in preparation for the long flight. Chris and I chatted freely in reflection of the summer and our future plans for the upcoming year.

Disembarking

Flight #1

If I am appreciative of one thing about the first flight, it is that there were other families around us who also had babies and therefore didn’t cast as hateful glances at us and our screaming twins as I imagine other people might have done. However, these families’ babies didn’t make a peep during the flight. Not one little sound! While I consoled myself with the thought that they must have sneaked Benadryl into their bottles, I couldn’t help but feeling like a failure for not maintaining order in our little section of the plane. To confirm that my inadequacies were not just in my head, as we deplaned, one young mother handed me a list of parenting books and blogs that she thought I might find helpful in the future. Thanks. We crawled to customs, our defeated heads hanging low.

Flight #2

Deciding to finally wake the babies up from their slumber as we pulled into the gate, passengers around us still looked adoringly at the twins. Rather than receiving pitying advice as we gathered our belongings, flight attendants and travelers still commented on how cute the babies are. As we pranced onto the jet way, Chris and I beamed with pride and triumph. Take that, trans-Pacific! You may have bested us the first time, but we came out on top on the second-go-round.

I’m going to be honest. The success of the second flight hasn’t quite cured me of the trauma from the first flight but I think we will get there in time. This kind of emotional healing doesn’t happen overnight.

Ready or Not, Here We Come!

Well, folks, this is it. Another year in the books. In a few short days, we will turn on the dehumidifiers, lock up our apartment, and head off to the airport to cross the Pacific back to the homeland. They tell me that there are just as many days in the year now as when I was a kid, but it is pretty hard to believe as this time of year always seems to catch me off guard. Nevertheless, here we are as I try to tie up loose ends and prepare for the long trek back to the States.

I would like to start off by stating that I am looking forward to seeing the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave once again. Dreams of pancakes, Chik-Fil-A, and reasonably priced watermelon have been dancing in my head for some time now. We can’t wait to introduce the BOGO’s to their adoring fans back in the US. Don’t worry, Chris and I have fully come to terms with the fact that the two of us have been unequivocally replaced on everyone’s “must see” lists by these two bundles of joy.

This being said, I have to express some concerns about the actual process of realizing my dreams of Chik-Fil-A and BOGO introductions. You see, in order to get us from point A in Seoul to point B in America, there is this pesky little thing called a trans-Pacific flight. For those of you who do much traveling, you know that flying isn’t a whole lot of fun. Crossing oceans is less fun. Crossing an ocean and then crossing the Continental United States is even less fun. Chris and I know this because we have done it several times now. But, we don’t need to be reminded that this year is going to be different. Why? Oh yes, those little bundles of joy are coming with us this time. In order to get myself in gear for this adventure, I thought I would put a few of my apprehensions in words and help myself process them.

Apprehension number one: Packing. For anyone who knows me or any of the other Loomis’, you know that our worth as a human being is negatively correlated with the size of our suitcases. When we pack, every corner is cut and we actually feel like failures if we don’t wear everything from our suitcase at least twice. (You should see the tiny backpack that my sister packed to come to Seoul for two weeks, and she fit in gifts for us and the babies.) Anyone who checks a bag on the airplane is deemed unfit for interaction with the Loomis family. Sadly, I have to put this training aside as I prepare to essentially move our entire nursery across the Pacific with us. Toys, diapers, wipes, bottles, clothes to grow out of and in to, burp cloths, car seats; and the list goes on. Note to those picking us up at the airport: I hope you have a lot of trunk space.

Apprehension number two: Claustrophobia. No, I haven’t suddenly become afraid of tightly enclosed places. I have a very deep fear of being in an enclosed place where people are trying to sleep and I have a screaming baby… or two. We are going to be those people at the gate at whom businessmen scowl, flight attendants cringe, and bring the rest of the passengers to their knees praying that they don’t get seated next to us. We are the lepers of the flying world. If there ever was a mother who wished that they made baby Ambien, it would be me. Did I mention Lucy might be teething? Note to people picking us up at the airport: bring earplugs. You’ll probably want them.

Apprehension number three: Jet lag. Now, I am not talking about a two or three hour “I just got in from California” kind of jet lag. I am talking about completely switching AM and PM and then some. With four month old babies. I don’t know how we got so incredibly lucky to have babies who sleep so well at nighttime and I don’t take it for granted. However, I have no idea how they will react when I try to convince them that the sleep schedule we have worked so hard to set in stone has to be modified once we hit the tarmac… and then switch back again in six weeks. Note to those hosting us: invest in some sleeping pills of your own… or invent baby Ambien.

Ready or not, here we come. Game faces, everyone, it is go time. That Chik-Fil-A better be good.

Back in the Saddle

Two weeks ago, my time “solo mio” with the girls came to a close. I really wasn’t sure how I would take it. Before they came along, I proclaimed to those around me that I would unquestionably return to work without hesitation. This proclamation joined the ranks of other pre-motherhood gems such as, “We won’t need that many diapers, will we?” or “Tandem nursing will be a breeze, just look at how happy the mom looks in these pictures!” And of course, “I know what it means to be tired.”

Throughout my maternity leave, the idea of returning to work was associated with a wide range of emotions. Some afternoons, as I wearily rocked both screaming girls back and forth in a bootless attempt to soothe them until the next feeding time, I dreamed happily of the days when I could deal with teenagers again. I thought about being able to dress up without fear of being vomited upon and spending the morning not dealing with anyone else’s fecal matter. However, other afternoons I couldn’t imagine being more than an arm’s length away from those two smiling, squealing, cuddly little balls of joy who have irrevocably changed my life. So, as the hourglass ran out, I slipped on my high heels and wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I shirking my motherly duties by having another person take care of my babies while I go off to do another job? Will they miss me too much during the day? Or, worse yet, will they not miss me during the day and find that they prefer the loving hands of someone who actually knows what they are doing?

I’m not going to lie. Those first few steps out the door on Monday morning were some of the hardest steps I’ve ever had to take. But, stepping back into my classroom being greeted by students and colleagues eased the pain just a bit. And, as the day wore on, I was reminded by how much I really do love my job. I love my students, I love my fellow teachers, and I just love teaching. I am blessed to be able to spend my days doing something that I am passionate about in a place that is incredibly supportive of working moms. Not only that, but I actually live about a stone’s throw away from where I work. I can literally see my apartment from my classroom window and can pop in if I feel the urge throughout the day (sorry Aunt Samantha and Aunt Tori, some days are more “urge-y” than others). Undoubtedly the biggest blessing of all has been to have two incredible sisters willing to come and take care of our little squirts while I am off gallivanting around teaching teenagers the wonders of conjugating –ar verbs.

So, am I doing the right thing by continuing to work and have someone else take care of my babies while I do it? Frankly, I don’t know. The fact of the matter is this: I love my babies and I love my job. Here’s to a lifetime of trying to make them both work.

Three Cheers for Literacy!

I had two main goals that I wanted to complete during my maternity leave, other than taking care of babies of course. The first was to read Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. After reassessing what life with two new babies was like, this goal was quickly replaced by “survive”. Not to jinx myself just yet, but this goal has been attained so far.

The second goal I had for myself during my “time off” was to finally get on the stick and learn some Korean. Before moving here, Chris and I thought that learning it would be a breeze compared to the Chinese we had to learn while living in Taiwan. Korean isn’t tonal and it even has a phonetic alphabet for goodness sakes. However, here it is May of our first year here and we still know far more Chinese than we do Korean. And that is just plain sad, people… especially for a language teacher.

So, earlier last week I set out to remove this shroud of shame that has plagued me since we moved to Seoul. I determined that I would, at the very least, learn the alphabet and learn to count in Korean by the time I headed back to work on May 9. You know what? People were right. It really was easy! With the modern convenience of trusty ol’ Youtube, I was tutored by no less than half a dozen native Koreans on how to read, write and count.

My newfound knowledge has me feeling like a giddy kindergartener who has just learned to decipher Dr. Seuss for the first time. Signs and posters are now somewhat intelligible to me. No, I still don’t have any idea what they mean, but I can pronounce them, by George! That is something I was never able to do in Taiwan. A walk down our street has become a living classroom full of opportunities to practice my developing skill. Advertisements stop me in my tracks (much to Chris’ annoyance) as I attempt to sound out each syllable. “Sah, no wait, Seo.. … ul, Seo-ul, Seoul! That says Seoul!” While others around me may scoff at my 4-year-old linguistic ability, I have thoroughly impressed myself. And so I shall bid you a hearty 안녕히계세요 and go out and sound out some more words. I think that Laura Bush was on to something. Literacy is awesome.