Well, I gained one pound back. Sigh.
This is probably due to me trying to figure out how to eat out and still follow the gastroparesis guidelines without busting a gut with too many carbs. My work schedule forces me to eat out at least twice a week - no easy feat for someone with a very restricted diet to begin with. According to most nutritionists, a good diet should fall within these parameters:
Carbohydrates: 45%-65% of your diet
Fat 20%-35% of your diet
Protein 10% to 35% of your diet
My carbohydrates tend to range from 50%-65% by default. I have managed to lower my carbs closer to 50%, but my fat intake has gone up to the 30% range. Oddly enough, the extra fat hasn't hurt my stomach "as much as it is supposed to," but it definitely isn't helping my diet. In order to get the extra protein the doctor says I need, I have to eat more meat, and even lean meat has fat in it. Ditto for soy products. Don't get me started on the dairy problem; let's just say I have always been a bit lactose-intolerant. I don't think I am going to win this one. I did not tolerate meat products very well to begin with - no juicy steaks for me!
I have started weight training again; this has had both positive and negative results. The positive is that, as far as weight and reps are concerned, I have been able to pick up where I left off FIVE YEARS AGO in the computer system at the YMCA. Yea! The bad news is I have had to reduce my days at the gym from 4 days to 3 days a week. My body aches constantly, and my bum knee is getting too "chatty" with my other knee - now both of them hurt! I tried reducing my weight levels, but then I did no real work because the weights were too light for me.
The Fitlinxx computer system hooked up to the weight machines has bells and whistles to nag you about form, speed, and full reps, which can be both annoying and helpful at the same time (it is controlled by sensors embedded in the weight equipment). I really hate the noise that goes with "You have reached the top of your range!!!!!" Doo-be-doo-DA--da DA! I keep expecting the baseball organ music to chime in....So I block the noise with my earphones.
Yes, I go to the Y. I used to go to a regular gym and work with a trainer out in Milpitas, but my scheduled tutoring appointments are located across Silicon Valley in Cupertino. The 24 Hour Fitness nearest to me (the only gym near my house, in fact) is full of very scary lurkers and weirdos. I prefer to go to the Y, where even the old ladies are comfortable; I time my workouts to coincide with their mass geriatric appearances in the late morning so I don't feel like such a blubber butt. I also try to finish my workouts before the beefy "cut" San Jose Firefighters arrive wearing their adorable dark blue muscle Ts with the names of their units emblazoned across their backs; I also avoid the skinny-Asian-girl wave that seems to accompany the firefighters' arrival (hmmmm....coincidence?). I know I can't compete.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Day the Space Shuttle Blew Up
We were late.
The other fourth grade teacher had set up the television in the classroom next door, but we had not yet filed into her classroom to watch the launch. In spite of what current naysayers claim about public apathy towards the NASA space program, to us, it was going to be a day of excitement. Our Weekly Reader had always been chock full of articles about space exploration, and we had done an extensive unit the year before on the nine planets. I had read everything I could about the "Teacher in Space" program; 321 Contact had run a small spread about Christa McAuliffe in its science-for-children magazine, and there had been numerous interviews with the aspiring space teacher in the local media.
Mrs. M. lined us up in a row and ordered us to get ready to leave. It was an unusually cold morning in central California, so we bundled up carefully to go outside to get to the other teacher's classroom. Then, something strange happened.
Mrs. H., the teacher who had the television, left her class unattended for a moment, and raced up the external stairs to our classroom. She pulled Mrs. M. aside and spoke to her a low voice. Mrs. M. looked stunned, and sank down behind her desk. We stood at the door, ready to launch and very confused.
Finally, the much-shaken teacher spoke one simple sentence, "The Challenger blew up."
Immediately from the back of the room, an unmistakably male-child voice piped up, "AWESOME!"
The teacher glared at the miscreant (a special education student, if I remember correctly), then ordered us to hurry out the door.
The new media played the footage over and over again as we watched the events unfold; we watched the trail of debris streak across the sky, over and over again. We listened intently as the reporters gave a play-by-play of the events surrounding the shuttle launch and failure. Oddly enough, no one seemed overly traumatized by the disaster. Being children, we never even considered the implications of the space disaster. I privately wondered what happened to the teacher who had gone up in space; I would ask my mother later about what happened to her.
Our teacher brought us back to our classroom and tried valiantly to set up a television set, but ultimately failed in her technical endeavors; the best she could do was a snowy, grainy picture on the set, and we quickly lost interest in trying to make out what was happening. Classroom life went on.
At the end of the day, I went out to stand in line to be picked up as usual. The principal stood by the construction cones that marked the traffic lanes as she usually did, calling student names through the electronic megaphone (a device much in favor with yard teachers in the 1980s). I watched for and waited eagerly for my mother's familiar, Kermit-green station wagon, but my name was never called. Two or three students were still waiting with me after all the children had left, but even they were finally called out to their respective cars.
I stood out on the black-top pavement silently fuming, alone and confused.
Mrs. W., the principal, came over and gently took me by the arm. We walked to the office together, and the secretary looked up at us, stunned. Then, she smiled.
"Your mother just called us. You will have to wait in the office for awhile."
"Well, where is she?" I whined.
The principal and the secretary whispered a bit, then turned back towards me.
"Your mother is with Mrs. G. Mrs. G. is having her baby today."
My face brightened. "My mom is her birthing coach," I told them, proudly.
The two administrators looked a bit flummoxed by my reply, but quickly recovered.
"You may sit in the office until your mother comes."
I sulkily plopped down on the office chairs. I was really annoyed for two reasons - first, that my mother was late, and second, that the administrators thought I shouldn't know about birthing coaches. It had always irritated me, especially in childhood, when people assumed I was stupid. Actually, I had known the "facts of life" since third grade, when a wonderful documentary called "The Miracle of Life" had aired on PBS. My mother and I had watched it together and engaged in several fascinating conversations about the scientific reality behind where babies came from and just how they got out of their mother's bellies. I have never felt awkward about discussing the facts of life, and for that, I can thank my mother.
Scenes from the end of the film flashed through my mind as I sat there, wondering how Mrs. G. was doing. I couldn't imagine Mrs. G. doing what the mother in the film had done, especially as the film ended with a rather graphic birth scene (God bless the mother who agreed to let the cameras in on the "business" end of birth).
I then thought about the teacher in space. Visions of Jetson-like ejection seats filled my imagination, but I knew, in my heart of hearts, that she hadn't survived. How would they find the bodies? I wondered. I knew the shuttle had pieces had probably landed in the ocean due to the softly continued play-by-play commentary of the shuttle disaster on the office radio. What was she thinking when she fell into the sea?
At five-thirty, my mother finally came and picked me up. Even the principal had left.
"Mrs. G. had a C section. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's neck twice, so they had to get her out."
"Ohhh." I paused. "Did you know the space shuttle blew up?"
"Yes."
We were silent on the way home. My mother's face looked drawn and tired.
"The baby is too early, " Mom commented.
I wondered if Mrs. G. had seen the shuttle explode while she was waiting for the baby. She had.
"They are calling the baby Laura. She is a very tiny preemie. We will have to find special clothes for her."
I thought about this for a moment.
"Well, she can wear my Cabbage Patch Kids' clothes." I had just gotten a Preemie Cabbage Patch Kid.
No one spoke for the rest of the journey home.
This last weekend, I went to a wedding reception for the "baby." As I watched her standing next to her sweet and loving new husband, the events of the explosion kept sneaking through my mind. How amazing is it that life left this earth on the same day that life began on this earth? The baby struggled very hard at first, to live, but she ultimately won the battle. She grew into a bright little girl and a beautiful young lady.
I was a little saddened also, watching her cut the cake with her new groom. The unwelcome thought that the baby I once held in my arms will join her life with another before I do - if I ever do - gave me pause for an excruciating sense of loss. My arms ached- a reminder that my biological clock will start winding down shortly, no doubt- but only for that moment. There are moments when life seems to pass us by; we become spectators of our own circumstances and never really get a chance to live as we would have chosen.
But she has. Her life was not always easy, but she survived. I sincerely wish her and her groom the greatest blessings on their happiness. May they value each and every day that they are given together in life and love.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
BODY WARS: Progress Report from Week 1
I have just completed my first week of diet and exercise training. I learned a few things in the process, which I would like to share with my minuscule, but faithful audience:
1. The gastroparesis dietary restrictions are HELL when you are trying to lose weight.
After consulting my doctor, I have gradually been increasing protein and limiting carbs to 50-60% of my diet. I am experimenting with tofu and soy milk to increase my protein intake, as meat products can sometimes cause great discomfort for me. Even before gastroparesis, I was not a big meat eater, so this is no real stretch. I will also be eating at least one "peanut butter popsicle" (peanut butter on a spoon - one of my mother's greatest "jokes" to get us kids to eat healthy) a day to avoid the carb trap associated with bread products. I am still trying to make 1400-1600 calories a day, which can be a bit challenging at times.
2. The running program I have set for myself seems to be doing OK. I did notice that I tend to run on the sides of my feet; it is quite involuntary, and I can't seem to correct it. My right knee joint has also been complaining a bit much, so I may have to go back to wearing a brace.
3. I have lost TWO pounds this week...I think. Our bathroom scale is a bit temperamental, so it could be as little as ONE pound.
Happy eating!
1. The gastroparesis dietary restrictions are HELL when you are trying to lose weight.
After consulting my doctor, I have gradually been increasing protein and limiting carbs to 50-60% of my diet. I am experimenting with tofu and soy milk to increase my protein intake, as meat products can sometimes cause great discomfort for me. Even before gastroparesis, I was not a big meat eater, so this is no real stretch. I will also be eating at least one "peanut butter popsicle" (peanut butter on a spoon - one of my mother's greatest "jokes" to get us kids to eat healthy) a day to avoid the carb trap associated with bread products. I am still trying to make 1400-1600 calories a day, which can be a bit challenging at times.
2. The running program I have set for myself seems to be doing OK. I did notice that I tend to run on the sides of my feet; it is quite involuntary, and I can't seem to correct it. My right knee joint has also been complaining a bit much, so I may have to go back to wearing a brace.
3. I have lost TWO pounds this week...I think. Our bathroom scale is a bit temperamental, so it could be as little as ONE pound.
Happy eating!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
BODY WARS: A Big Mystery?
I saw my GI Specialist at Stanford today, and we discussed diet. The reason I am gaining weight seems to be a more complex issue than I thought.
Problem 1: Too many carbs. The problem with the gastroparesis restricted diet is it tends to be high in carbs. Those of us who suffer from this disorder cannot process fiber or fat very well (if at all, in some cases). This excludes pretty much every vegetable unless it is pureed or cooked to death (baby food, anyone?). I can tolerate some raw fruits (watermelon, berries, grapes in moderation), but so far, most raw vegetables reduce me to a vomitous puddle on the floor...except I absolutely refuse to vomit. The problem with cooked vegetables is...I hate 'em!
Solution: Replace carbs with protein. I will be adding more protein through using tofu and Boca Burgers, which are generally well-tolerated by functional (meaning, fairly well-controlled) gastroparesis patients. I just switched to soy milk yesterday, but it still sometimes upsets my stomach.
The doctor also suggested Jenny Craig meals, with modifications.
Problem 2: Nortriptyline. This is the name of the medication which is helping me face eating every day; it was part of a medical trial (the NORIG study), and it happened to help me a great deal. The medication belongs to the second-generation antidepressant class, but the very low dose I am taking does not register as helpful for depression; instead, it works on the nervous system that controls digestion (which, oddly enough, works with the same chemistry as the brain). Unfortunately, one of the big side effects is WEIGHT GAIN. Bingo!
Solution: None, really. If my weight continues to mysteriously skyrocket, I will have to go on another medication...and the other medications tend to have even weirder side effects and are not always effective.
Problem 3: My cardio workout is practically useless for weight loss. I knew this going in, so I am more interested in increasing my stamina in order to run a 5k. I feel so bad, however, for those heavy middle age ladies who come to the gym, run like mad, and then go home expecting to have lost weight. It doesn't work that way, but I think this is a more "recent" finding (although I have known this for years through experience).
Side Note: I personally think stationary bikes are completely useless in particular; you seem to expend a lot of energy on a monotonous task and then have nothing to show for it. This is why I prefer treadmills and elliptical machines - at least you feel like you are getting somewhere. I also love playing with the settings and speed. I have discovered that the speed marked as JOG, for example, is actually RUN for me because I have such short little Dachshund legs! The speed marked as WALK is way too slow for me. In fact, no one I know walks that slowly.
Solution: Weight training. The good doctor suggested I try weight training again. This is just what I wanted to hear. I love weight training and I sorely missed it. Because of my extremely poor coordination, I have to stick to weight machines - you don't want to see what happens with me and free weights! I will also likely take some kind of group exercise class just for fun.
I will post my results of Week 1 by next Monday.
Problem 1: Too many carbs. The problem with the gastroparesis restricted diet is it tends to be high in carbs. Those of us who suffer from this disorder cannot process fiber or fat very well (if at all, in some cases). This excludes pretty much every vegetable unless it is pureed or cooked to death (baby food, anyone?). I can tolerate some raw fruits (watermelon, berries, grapes in moderation), but so far, most raw vegetables reduce me to a vomitous puddle on the floor...except I absolutely refuse to vomit. The problem with cooked vegetables is...I hate 'em!
Solution: Replace carbs with protein. I will be adding more protein through using tofu and Boca Burgers, which are generally well-tolerated by functional (meaning, fairly well-controlled) gastroparesis patients. I just switched to soy milk yesterday, but it still sometimes upsets my stomach.
The doctor also suggested Jenny Craig meals, with modifications.
Problem 2: Nortriptyline. This is the name of the medication which is helping me face eating every day; it was part of a medical trial (the NORIG study), and it happened to help me a great deal. The medication belongs to the second-generation antidepressant class, but the very low dose I am taking does not register as helpful for depression; instead, it works on the nervous system that controls digestion (which, oddly enough, works with the same chemistry as the brain). Unfortunately, one of the big side effects is WEIGHT GAIN. Bingo!
Solution: None, really. If my weight continues to mysteriously skyrocket, I will have to go on another medication...and the other medications tend to have even weirder side effects and are not always effective.
Problem 3: My cardio workout is practically useless for weight loss. I knew this going in, so I am more interested in increasing my stamina in order to run a 5k. I feel so bad, however, for those heavy middle age ladies who come to the gym, run like mad, and then go home expecting to have lost weight. It doesn't work that way, but I think this is a more "recent" finding (although I have known this for years through experience).
Side Note: I personally think stationary bikes are completely useless in particular; you seem to expend a lot of energy on a monotonous task and then have nothing to show for it. This is why I prefer treadmills and elliptical machines - at least you feel like you are getting somewhere. I also love playing with the settings and speed. I have discovered that the speed marked as JOG, for example, is actually RUN for me because I have such short little Dachshund legs! The speed marked as WALK is way too slow for me. In fact, no one I know walks that slowly.
Solution: Weight training. The good doctor suggested I try weight training again. This is just what I wanted to hear. I love weight training and I sorely missed it. Because of my extremely poor coordination, I have to stick to weight machines - you don't want to see what happens with me and free weights! I will also likely take some kind of group exercise class just for fun.
I will post my results of Week 1 by next Monday.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
JOURNAL: How NOT to Be Sexy
I suffer from a relatively rare gastrointestinal disorder known as idiopathic gastroparesis. Gastroparesis is exactly what it sounds like - a paralyzed stomach. It is "idiopathic" because the doctors can only guess at the cause; in my case, it appears I picked up a stomach virus in Korea that attacked the nervous system in my gastrointenstinal tract. As a result, I suffer daily from morning nausea, occasional vomiting, postprandium fullness (feeling full after a couple of bites), and, ahem, lower gastrointestinal distress. It is not a fun or sexy disorder, and there are times I sincerely wish to die from the pain. Oh, and I make a great after dinner companion - let 'er rip!
Usually, the symptoms dissipate after about two years, but they didn't in my case. Instead, I enrolled myself in a clinical trial at Stanford University. The Stanford trial worked in my case, and my symptoms are under control, if not eliminated completely. In fact, I have been feeling tolerably well the past couple of months. Of course, finding full-time work in an economic depression is another story.
So, where did the fun begin? This could probably have all been prevented if the almighty rural university I worked for in Hwaseong-si had heeded my request for human-grade housing - you know, functional plumbing, standard electricity, a location NOT next to a run-down dog meat farm that smells like dog shit, or the red light district that smells like booze, vomit, and stale sex most of the time (they "air out" the establishments once a week). You know its bad housing when even the college student who moved your furniture in for you calls it a shit-hole. But I digress.
Now, I find myself on the horns of a new dilemma. Most people with gastroparesis LOSE weight drastically. At my low point, when I was subsisting on saltines and yogurt, I weighed 147 pounds. I am 5'2". Yes, I lost a pretty measly 20 pounds, even when I was literally starving to death (and losing my hair, by the way). As soon as I began to eat almost-normal portions, and I do mean almost-normal portions, I shot up to 174 pounds, 8 pounds heavier than I started! How does that work?
It is a GOOD day when I can intake 1500 calories; my average is 1300-1400. According to my calorie calculator, I should be maintaining weight at the very least, not gaining weight. There is absolutely nowhere where I can change my diet; I am severely restricted to low fat and low fiber, which means a high amount of easily digested carbohydrates. Unfortunately, carbs have always been my mortal enemy; I was brought up to eat healthy food (not much processed food or fast food appeals to me even now). I allow myself one doughnut a week as a treat, but that's it!
The fact is, however, I AM STILL FAT! I have joined the YMCA, and I will be hitting the treadmill three times a week in addition to my twice a day, 3o minute brisk walk. I am also looking into a few group exercise classes (shudder shudder). I am, quite honestly, at my wits end. The truth is, I have NEVER had an easy time losing weight. Back when I was rich (hah!), I worked with a personal trainer twice a week. Over the course of a year, I lost a mere ten pounds, but I did gain quite a bit in muscle mass! The trainer kept insisting I was straying from my diet (I wasn't), and we went around in circles for quite some time about it. I finally gave up.
SO, here are my current stats:
WEEK 1:
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 174 (yikes!)
Size: 12-16 (!), depending on what
I figure I need to lose 36-40 pounds to look proportionate; I think the BMI calculator is a bit off in my case, as I am a big-boned, big-chested, and abysmally short Viking lass (from both sides of the family).
Usually, the symptoms dissipate after about two years, but they didn't in my case. Instead, I enrolled myself in a clinical trial at Stanford University. The Stanford trial worked in my case, and my symptoms are under control, if not eliminated completely. In fact, I have been feeling tolerably well the past couple of months. Of course, finding full-time work in an economic depression is another story.
So, where did the fun begin? This could probably have all been prevented if the almighty rural university I worked for in Hwaseong-si had heeded my request for human-grade housing - you know, functional plumbing, standard electricity, a location NOT next to a run-down dog meat farm that smells like dog shit, or the red light district that smells like booze, vomit, and stale sex most of the time (they "air out" the establishments once a week). You know its bad housing when even the college student who moved your furniture in for you calls it a shit-hole. But I digress.
Now, I find myself on the horns of a new dilemma. Most people with gastroparesis LOSE weight drastically. At my low point, when I was subsisting on saltines and yogurt, I weighed 147 pounds. I am 5'2". Yes, I lost a pretty measly 20 pounds, even when I was literally starving to death (and losing my hair, by the way). As soon as I began to eat almost-normal portions, and I do mean almost-normal portions, I shot up to 174 pounds, 8 pounds heavier than I started! How does that work?
It is a GOOD day when I can intake 1500 calories; my average is 1300-1400. According to my calorie calculator, I should be maintaining weight at the very least, not gaining weight. There is absolutely nowhere where I can change my diet; I am severely restricted to low fat and low fiber, which means a high amount of easily digested carbohydrates. Unfortunately, carbs have always been my mortal enemy; I was brought up to eat healthy food (not much processed food or fast food appeals to me even now). I allow myself one doughnut a week as a treat, but that's it!
The fact is, however, I AM STILL FAT! I have joined the YMCA, and I will be hitting the treadmill three times a week in addition to my twice a day, 3o minute brisk walk. I am also looking into a few group exercise classes (shudder shudder). I am, quite honestly, at my wits end. The truth is, I have NEVER had an easy time losing weight. Back when I was rich (hah!), I worked with a personal trainer twice a week. Over the course of a year, I lost a mere ten pounds, but I did gain quite a bit in muscle mass! The trainer kept insisting I was straying from my diet (I wasn't), and we went around in circles for quite some time about it. I finally gave up.
SO, here are my current stats:
WEEK 1:
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 174 (yikes!)
Size: 12-16 (!), depending on what
I figure I need to lose 36-40 pounds to look proportionate; I think the BMI calculator is a bit off in my case, as I am a big-boned, big-chested, and abysmally short Viking lass (from both sides of the family).
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Korean Dramas 101: What to Expect
Note: All video clips below are linked from Youtube. No infringement of any kind is intended.
So, what should you expect if you decide to try watching a Korean drama?
Within my last blog on the subject, I presented a breakdown of the four main genres of Korean dramas. Here are some of the positives and negatives about Korean dramas in general:
The Bad: Korean dramas are not usually very strong on original or thought-provoking plots. You will not typically see plots dealing with profound or complicated social issues, for example. You will see complicated love triangles, scheming relatives, and odd subplots. This tendency is mainly due to the remnants of Confucianism in Korean culture, which values hierarchy and knowing your place in the world.
The Ugly: Korean dramas are not usually written to their conclusion ahead of time, with all the disorganization that this may imply. In order to find out if a drama is good, one typically has to view at least the first four episodes, as sometimes even the writer doesn't quite know what the story is going to be about yet. This also means that Korean dramas contain a lot of "filler" episodes, random (and sometimes misplaced) slapstick comedy moments, and, if the drama is particularly poorly written, lots and lots of flashbacks accompanied by bad K-pop songs.
On the flip side, tragedy and pathos in Korean dramas always ensures plenty of tears and hysteria in certain scenes. American audiences may be overwhelmed by this convention at first; we are not used to seeing people truly "lose it" or bawl their heads off, except perhaps in some wacky independent feature films. Having lived in Korea, I can say with some confidence that generally speaking, when someone loses it, THEY LOSE IT, earning Koreans the rather apt title of "the Italians of the East":
Finally, viewers may be surprised at the lack of sexual content in television. Aside from being a sad commentary on our own society, this is mainly due to the conservative nature of Korean audiences. Adultery, lust, and one night stands may be alluded to, but most Korean dramas prefer not to "pollute the air" with unnecessary displays of passion. Sex scenes, when they occur, tactfully fade away from the action at hand and focus on windows, doors, or a light in the house going off. Kissing scenes are, by-and-large, chaste, and the anticipation of "the kiss" can actually be quite sweet and well worth the waiting:
Enjoy the show!
So, what should you expect if you decide to try watching a Korean drama?
Within my last blog on the subject, I presented a breakdown of the four main genres of Korean dramas. Here are some of the positives and negatives about Korean dramas in general:
PLOTS
The Good: Korean dramas are usually very strong with developing characters, navigating the complexities of family bonds, and working through realistic behaviors in any given situation (ie. Korean drama characters typically do what a person with their particular personality type would do). Some of the camera conventions, such as lingering on a character's body language or face for long periods of time, can in fact strongly enhance viewers' understanding of motivation, emotion, and consequences. The plots also take time to develop, which makes for a more interesting viewing.The Bad: Korean dramas are not usually very strong on original or thought-provoking plots. You will not typically see plots dealing with profound or complicated social issues, for example. You will see complicated love triangles, scheming relatives, and odd subplots. This tendency is mainly due to the remnants of Confucianism in Korean culture, which values hierarchy and knowing your place in the world.
The Ugly: Korean dramas are not usually written to their conclusion ahead of time, with all the disorganization that this may imply. In order to find out if a drama is good, one typically has to view at least the first four episodes, as sometimes even the writer doesn't quite know what the story is going to be about yet. This also means that Korean dramas contain a lot of "filler" episodes, random (and sometimes misplaced) slapstick comedy moments, and, if the drama is particularly poorly written, lots and lots of flashbacks accompanied by bad K-pop songs.
ACTORS
The Good: Korea has produced some fantastic actors lately. Most Korean entertainers do not limit themselves to one style of entertainment - many actors, in fact, easily transition between singing, modeling, and acting; this tendency allows for extreme flexibility in what the entertainer is capable of doing. A good example of this kind of actor is an entertainer known as "Rain," who has appeared in Korean dramas (romantic comedy and melodrama), Korean movies, and American movies (Ninja Assassin). The Korean-style of acting feels very Method-based (think Brando and Depp) rather than polished. This actually works in Korean dramas very well, most of the time, allowing viewers to engage more fully into the emotional story taking place. Tears are real, laughter is deep, and chemistry is genuine.
The Bad: The fact that Korean actors are also entertainers can also work against them. Some singers really should stay on the stage rather than try to act. Enough said.
The Ugly: Two words - military service. The solid acting careers of leading men is often derailed by the mandatory two year military service all Korean males must face. Some actors recover, such as Seo Ji-Seop, but others are never heard from again. Female actors are held to very high moral standards, and any misstep in an actress's personal life can be personally and professionally devastating.
The Bad: The fact that Korean actors are also entertainers can also work against them. Some singers really should stay on the stage rather than try to act. Enough said.
The Ugly: Two words - military service. The solid acting careers of leading men is often derailed by the mandatory two year military service all Korean males must face. Some actors recover, such as Seo Ji-Seop, but others are never heard from again. Female actors are held to very high moral standards, and any misstep in an actress's personal life can be personally and professionally devastating.
CONVENTIONS
The Korean sense of humor, at least in Korean dramas, tends towards slapstick and toilet humor. Fortunately, most of the actors in these dramas seem to be gifted with perfect comic timing, which can make for a very entertaining evening. What may be more difficult for American audiences to stomach is the national obsession with toilet humor. Whereas in American films, restrooms are sacred, Korean entertainment makes use of bathrooms as a natural, and mostly humorous, place to have a conversation. Men have conversations (and the occasional - ahem - staring contest) while standing at urinals, women have conversations in toilet stalls or family bathrooms, and poop is always funny.
Here is a classic and hilarious example:
Here is a classic and hilarious example:
Bathroom Scene, EP. 9 (from My Lovely Samsoon)
On the flip side, tragedy and pathos in Korean dramas always ensures plenty of tears and hysteria in certain scenes. American audiences may be overwhelmed by this convention at first; we are not used to seeing people truly "lose it" or bawl their heads off, except perhaps in some wacky independent feature films. Having lived in Korea, I can say with some confidence that generally speaking, when someone loses it, THEY LOSE IT, earning Koreans the rather apt title of "the Italians of the East":
AP Footage of Korean Parliament Brawl 2009
Finally, viewers may be surprised at the lack of sexual content in television. Aside from being a sad commentary on our own society, this is mainly due to the conservative nature of Korean audiences. Adultery, lust, and one night stands may be alluded to, but most Korean dramas prefer not to "pollute the air" with unnecessary displays of passion. Sex scenes, when they occur, tactfully fade away from the action at hand and focus on windows, doors, or a light in the house going off. Kissing scenes are, by-and-large, chaste, and the anticipation of "the kiss" can actually be quite sweet and well worth the waiting:
"Kiss Me" Montage from Youtube
Enjoy the show!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The ESL Camp (July-Aug. 2007)
Note: This is a rough draft; I will be continuously editing this entry, so don't be surprised if things change!
After only three days back on solid food, I found myself back at work, staring down a group of rowdy fifth grade boys and sixth grade girls at the University's mandatory "ESL Summer Camp." The camp would run for three very solid weeks.
Although I was in poor physical condition and had very little energy due to my mystery illness, I decided that I was not going to let this camp get the better of me. It was my last scheduled teaching activity before I moved back to Seoul, and I genuinely wanted my students to enjoy their learning. The fact that I was already set to move onto a better job in Seoul also made it easier for me to really let loose (damn the conventions) and let the students enjoy their time in my class.
These ESL camps are not quite what we, as Americans, consider to be a "camp-like" experience. In fact, the only thing "camp" (meaning 'fun') about these institutions is that the kids sleep over, usually in the university dorms, eat questionable cafeteria food, and engage in team-sport activities. They do get some fun time on Fridays, which are designated field trip days, but the rest of the time is spent in classes and "educational activities." Even the more "fun" activities, such as song, drama, and game show contests, are considered serious competitive activities. The pressure is always on these students to perform, perform, perform, like well-trained monkeys at competing for a single banana.
And then there is the teacher vs. camp counselor dynamic. Imagine, if you will, a group of dignified (at least, when sober) college professors, ranging from their late twenties into their early forties - tweedy suit jackets, matronly dresses, somber expressions, etc. Now, imagine the same group of professors wearing flip-flops, shorts, and t-shirts. Enter the camp counselors. The average camp counselor is about 18 years old, and he or she has been likely culled from the above-mentioned professors' ESL classes. If the student happened to have failed the basic ESL Freshman class...no worries! The camp counselor may even find himself or herself assigned to the very professor who failed him or her the previous semester. In the world of the ESL camp, the counselors are given unprecedented power over the children; the professor-cum-English instructor has no jurisdiction whatsoever over what the students do outside of the classroom. A certain power struggle is bound to ensue. And it does.
All of that notwithstanding, there are some positives, as there is in any situation, with the right attitude. Textbooks for the classes are pretty much chosen at whim without regard to level, but this is actually a GOOD thing. When you give a beginning English class a high-intermediate textbook, naturally the class has no clue what they are reading or talking about. This gives the instructor much leeway in "interpretation" of the so-called lesson being taught. Typically, this means the instructor has to "fill in" the blanks with his or her own activities. I chose to have students use the practically useless dialogues as acting skits. With difficult reading passages, I acted out the dialogue and fired simplified questions about what the kids had just seen. I did my best to make the activities as pain-free as possible, and as a class, we did have a good time most days.
One day during the second week of the camp, a junior high group was giving me particular grief. Instead of getting angry, I decided to stage my own revolt against convention. I brought out two "Twister" boards and a spinner and let the students have at it. We were able to cover "left," "right," body parts, and colors in less that 15 minutes. The kids loved it, and it became a "reward for good behavior" boon when the class acted appropriately on any given day. The camp counselor said nothing; I heard later that "my actions had been reported" to the camp director, however! I also taught a different group (8th grade) the "Head and Shoulders Knees and Toes" song, complete with gestures. That backfired on me, I'm afraid; their camp counselor decided it was a good punishment song when the class got too rowdy.
One of the biggest challenges of these summer camps, however, is that the teacher spends mealtimes in the cafeteria with the students. This proved to be a big problem for me, as I had just started eating solid food again. When going through the cafeteria line, I would only take a scoop of rice and some soup; I was taught never to waste food as a child, but this is apparently not taught in rural Korea. The camp director and his assistant noticed my meager eating habits because the kids began to comment on my skimpy meals. One student even bluntly commented,"how can teacher be so fat" since I was not eating very much. Finally, the camp assistant (co-chair of the ESL department) asked me point blank why I was not eating with the children. I patiently explained to her that I had been very ill and had no appetite, so I wasn't taking more food than I could eat. She seemed to take this as some sort of insult to Korean food. She furthermore accused me of "setting a bad example" for the children by not eating what they ate. The point was left hanging, but every time I stood in line, I could feel her eagle-eyes assessing my food portions.
Her silent criticism annoyed me at first, but I came to understand her point-of-view after a few days of observation. I came to realize that the real reason she was angry at me was because I had refused, in no uncertain terms, to accept a renewal of my teaching contract; I had had enough of the nefarious activities associated with the University, and to tell the truth, was ready to fly on back to civilized Seoul like a bat out of hell by the time she had taken over the position. She had been hired shortly after a financial scandal had rocked our small department, so she had inherited a real mess from the previous position-holder. She was also a female administrator at a male-dominated university, which is no easy position to be in rural Korea by any stretch of the imagination. Upon further reflection, I discovered that I actually secretly admired her. I still do.
So I compromised. I began to take small helpings of everything on offer, even the fish, which caused me to become nauseous every time I saw it (the fish in Korea is served whole, complete with eyeballs) or smelled its rancid odor. I became quite proficient at pushing food around on my tray to make it look like I had eaten more than I had; rice, soup, and occasionally some bits of meat were the only things I ever actually ate. I suddenly began to understand how a person with a closet eating disorder might feel, although I was also perfectly aware that I would have vomited if I had tried to eat anything else. My appetite never did fully recover after my illness, although the significance of this escaped me for several months thereafter.
My only intentional rebellion against the university surfaced during the Human Jeopardy tournament. Human Jeopardy is actually quite a fun activity when it is not taken too seriously. A hybrid between Jeopardy and Tic-Tac-Toe, Human Jeopardy consists of five columns of clues, one column per category. As in regular Jeopardy, the clues are ranged from top to bottom by difficulty, the bottom row being the most difficult. Here is the human twist: If a teammate gets a clue correct, they go and sit on the spot occupied by the clue. The other teams then try to strategically block each others progress towards an entire row (up-and-down, diagonal, or vertical). Just like in Tic-Tac-Toe, the first team to get a full row wins the game.
Each instructor was instructed to create their own category, give a lesson with notes about the selected category, and create the clues for their own category. The teachers would then rotate around the camp, teaching their topic to one class each evening. The students would then study the worksheets and the information given until the test day. On the night of the competition, each teacher would MC their own category. The unwritten rule was that the category had to be something purely educational and, one might say, esoteric - for example, US Presidents, Canada, Mountains of the World...you get the idea. I decided to shake it up a bit.
Keeping in mind the average age of my students, I created the category "Gross Guts." In order to give the students a little taste of American summer camp fun, I decided to do my unit on the digestive system. I gave a general description of the mechanics of the digestive system as an opener (with diagrams), then launched into a discussion of the main causes of burping and farting. To exhibit the mechanics of burping, I talked about the histories and mysteries of pizza burps. I then gave a fart demo with a generally biologically accurate blown up balloon. The real kick, however, was the competition. I pitted boys against girls, and taught the class what every grade school child in America knows - the armpit fart and the skin-suck-and-blow fart. I also taught interested students how to swallow air for the most effective burps. Oh, did I mention that this "class" was scheduled right before the children were supposed to go to bed? The camp counselors were not particularly amused, but they were, I noticed, very attentive to the lesson!
My homeroom students acquitted themselves very well in the various camp constitutions, although they did not win any prizes. The highlight of the competitions was when I gave Jack, the class troublemaker, the lead in "Doorbumble's Magic Goose," our entry in the drama competition. I figured if he was busy memorizing lines, he would stay out of trouble. I kept my class clowns busy with court jester activities. As it so happened, Jack took to his part like magic, and he did manage to avoid trouble for at least a week - so did the class clowns. At the end of camp, when we were saying our goodbyes, Jack shyly passed me a note thanking me for the best camp ever (which I still have), then burst into uncontrollable tears. He could not be consoled at all, but instead clung to me with a sort of stoic desperation that I had never, and still have never, seen in any child before.
I really felt sorry for Jack. Had I just made things worse for him? This was a clearly intelligent and charismatic kid who did not get along well with his submissive Korean classmates. Through no fault of his own, he simply did not fit in. Because he had always been in trouble, no one had apparently bothered to see what this child could actually do. Of all my students, Jack's English improved the most dramatically, especially after the drama. Having given him the opportunity to shine, I now wondered if he would ever get an opportunity to show his talents again. Maybe he would have been better off not knowing he had ability. The harsh reality is that Jack was the son of economically challenged parents from a rural school district with limited resources. If he had been born in Seoul, he might have had a chance, but out in the agricultural community, his chances were pretty slim.
With these disquieting thoughts in the back of my mind, I returned to my apartment, exhausted. I slept through the entire weekend following the camp. Monday would begin a new adventure.
After only three days back on solid food, I found myself back at work, staring down a group of rowdy fifth grade boys and sixth grade girls at the University's mandatory "ESL Summer Camp." The camp would run for three very solid weeks.
Although I was in poor physical condition and had very little energy due to my mystery illness, I decided that I was not going to let this camp get the better of me. It was my last scheduled teaching activity before I moved back to Seoul, and I genuinely wanted my students to enjoy their learning. The fact that I was already set to move onto a better job in Seoul also made it easier for me to really let loose (damn the conventions) and let the students enjoy their time in my class.
These ESL camps are not quite what we, as Americans, consider to be a "camp-like" experience. In fact, the only thing "camp" (meaning 'fun') about these institutions is that the kids sleep over, usually in the university dorms, eat questionable cafeteria food, and engage in team-sport activities. They do get some fun time on Fridays, which are designated field trip days, but the rest of the time is spent in classes and "educational activities." Even the more "fun" activities, such as song, drama, and game show contests, are considered serious competitive activities. The pressure is always on these students to perform, perform, perform, like well-trained monkeys at competing for a single banana.
And then there is the teacher vs. camp counselor dynamic. Imagine, if you will, a group of dignified (at least, when sober) college professors, ranging from their late twenties into their early forties - tweedy suit jackets, matronly dresses, somber expressions, etc. Now, imagine the same group of professors wearing flip-flops, shorts, and t-shirts. Enter the camp counselors. The average camp counselor is about 18 years old, and he or she has been likely culled from the above-mentioned professors' ESL classes. If the student happened to have failed the basic ESL Freshman class...no worries! The camp counselor may even find himself or herself assigned to the very professor who failed him or her the previous semester. In the world of the ESL camp, the counselors are given unprecedented power over the children; the professor-cum-English instructor has no jurisdiction whatsoever over what the students do outside of the classroom. A certain power struggle is bound to ensue. And it does.
All of that notwithstanding, there are some positives, as there is in any situation, with the right attitude. Textbooks for the classes are pretty much chosen at whim without regard to level, but this is actually a GOOD thing. When you give a beginning English class a high-intermediate textbook, naturally the class has no clue what they are reading or talking about. This gives the instructor much leeway in "interpretation" of the so-called lesson being taught. Typically, this means the instructor has to "fill in" the blanks with his or her own activities. I chose to have students use the practically useless dialogues as acting skits. With difficult reading passages, I acted out the dialogue and fired simplified questions about what the kids had just seen. I did my best to make the activities as pain-free as possible, and as a class, we did have a good time most days.
One day during the second week of the camp, a junior high group was giving me particular grief. Instead of getting angry, I decided to stage my own revolt against convention. I brought out two "Twister" boards and a spinner and let the students have at it. We were able to cover "left," "right," body parts, and colors in less that 15 minutes. The kids loved it, and it became a "reward for good behavior" boon when the class acted appropriately on any given day. The camp counselor said nothing; I heard later that "my actions had been reported" to the camp director, however! I also taught a different group (8th grade) the "Head and Shoulders Knees and Toes" song, complete with gestures. That backfired on me, I'm afraid; their camp counselor decided it was a good punishment song when the class got too rowdy.
One of the biggest challenges of these summer camps, however, is that the teacher spends mealtimes in the cafeteria with the students. This proved to be a big problem for me, as I had just started eating solid food again. When going through the cafeteria line, I would only take a scoop of rice and some soup; I was taught never to waste food as a child, but this is apparently not taught in rural Korea. The camp director and his assistant noticed my meager eating habits because the kids began to comment on my skimpy meals. One student even bluntly commented,"how can teacher be so fat" since I was not eating very much. Finally, the camp assistant (co-chair of the ESL department) asked me point blank why I was not eating with the children. I patiently explained to her that I had been very ill and had no appetite, so I wasn't taking more food than I could eat. She seemed to take this as some sort of insult to Korean food. She furthermore accused me of "setting a bad example" for the children by not eating what they ate. The point was left hanging, but every time I stood in line, I could feel her eagle-eyes assessing my food portions.
Her silent criticism annoyed me at first, but I came to understand her point-of-view after a few days of observation. I came to realize that the real reason she was angry at me was because I had refused, in no uncertain terms, to accept a renewal of my teaching contract; I had had enough of the nefarious activities associated with the University, and to tell the truth, was ready to fly on back to civilized Seoul like a bat out of hell by the time she had taken over the position. She had been hired shortly after a financial scandal had rocked our small department, so she had inherited a real mess from the previous position-holder. She was also a female administrator at a male-dominated university, which is no easy position to be in rural Korea by any stretch of the imagination. Upon further reflection, I discovered that I actually secretly admired her. I still do.
So I compromised. I began to take small helpings of everything on offer, even the fish, which caused me to become nauseous every time I saw it (the fish in Korea is served whole, complete with eyeballs) or smelled its rancid odor. I became quite proficient at pushing food around on my tray to make it look like I had eaten more than I had; rice, soup, and occasionally some bits of meat were the only things I ever actually ate. I suddenly began to understand how a person with a closet eating disorder might feel, although I was also perfectly aware that I would have vomited if I had tried to eat anything else. My appetite never did fully recover after my illness, although the significance of this escaped me for several months thereafter.
My only intentional rebellion against the university surfaced during the Human Jeopardy tournament. Human Jeopardy is actually quite a fun activity when it is not taken too seriously. A hybrid between Jeopardy and Tic-Tac-Toe, Human Jeopardy consists of five columns of clues, one column per category. As in regular Jeopardy, the clues are ranged from top to bottom by difficulty, the bottom row being the most difficult. Here is the human twist: If a teammate gets a clue correct, they go and sit on the spot occupied by the clue. The other teams then try to strategically block each others progress towards an entire row (up-and-down, diagonal, or vertical). Just like in Tic-Tac-Toe, the first team to get a full row wins the game.
Each instructor was instructed to create their own category, give a lesson with notes about the selected category, and create the clues for their own category. The teachers would then rotate around the camp, teaching their topic to one class each evening. The students would then study the worksheets and the information given until the test day. On the night of the competition, each teacher would MC their own category. The unwritten rule was that the category had to be something purely educational and, one might say, esoteric - for example, US Presidents, Canada, Mountains of the World...you get the idea. I decided to shake it up a bit.
Keeping in mind the average age of my students, I created the category "Gross Guts." In order to give the students a little taste of American summer camp fun, I decided to do my unit on the digestive system. I gave a general description of the mechanics of the digestive system as an opener (with diagrams), then launched into a discussion of the main causes of burping and farting. To exhibit the mechanics of burping, I talked about the histories and mysteries of pizza burps. I then gave a fart demo with a generally biologically accurate blown up balloon. The real kick, however, was the competition. I pitted boys against girls, and taught the class what every grade school child in America knows - the armpit fart and the skin-suck-and-blow fart. I also taught interested students how to swallow air for the most effective burps. Oh, did I mention that this "class" was scheduled right before the children were supposed to go to bed? The camp counselors were not particularly amused, but they were, I noticed, very attentive to the lesson!
My homeroom students acquitted themselves very well in the various camp constitutions, although they did not win any prizes. The highlight of the competitions was when I gave Jack, the class troublemaker, the lead in "Doorbumble's Magic Goose," our entry in the drama competition. I figured if he was busy memorizing lines, he would stay out of trouble. I kept my class clowns busy with court jester activities. As it so happened, Jack took to his part like magic, and he did manage to avoid trouble for at least a week - so did the class clowns. At the end of camp, when we were saying our goodbyes, Jack shyly passed me a note thanking me for the best camp ever (which I still have), then burst into uncontrollable tears. He could not be consoled at all, but instead clung to me with a sort of stoic desperation that I had never, and still have never, seen in any child before.
I really felt sorry for Jack. Had I just made things worse for him? This was a clearly intelligent and charismatic kid who did not get along well with his submissive Korean classmates. Through no fault of his own, he simply did not fit in. Because he had always been in trouble, no one had apparently bothered to see what this child could actually do. Of all my students, Jack's English improved the most dramatically, especially after the drama. Having given him the opportunity to shine, I now wondered if he would ever get an opportunity to show his talents again. Maybe he would have been better off not knowing he had ability. The harsh reality is that Jack was the son of economically challenged parents from a rural school district with limited resources. If he had been born in Seoul, he might have had a chance, but out in the agricultural community, his chances were pretty slim.
With these disquieting thoughts in the back of my mind, I returned to my apartment, exhausted. I slept through the entire weekend following the camp. Monday would begin a new adventure.
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