Rant.

This week was ridiculous. Two teachers decided it would be a good idea to go on vacation. So poor me, or poor we as I should say, had to cover these absentee's classes. So basically I had to work without a break this entire week. Actually it was only four days because we had Monday off. Well actually, it was only three days because on Friday's we never have breaks. Back to the matter at hand, one of my lower level classes loves me. Not the way parents love their children or a child loves their toys or even the way a fat kid loves cake. No, these kids love me like a lion loves an impala with weight issues. So in between attempting to distract these kids from attempting to drop their school supplies out of the 9th story window of my classroom and trying to remember if a particular student's name is "Sparta," "Marine," "Carlito," "Spam," or wait, what class is this anyway? That reminds me, these kids all have official Korean names that are on their birth certificate and the like but when it comes to their English names they can pretty much do whatever they like as the only people who call them by this name are their English teachers anyway. So basically I don't know anyone's name that isn't hilarious.

Diversion.

I finally get the window shut. I get Jinnie, or Janny, or Jane, or Janet, or Jambalaya to stop hitting Lydia, or Linda, or Lin Da, or Lim Dae Un (some of them don't have English names at all) in the back of the head and I get this feeling. It is the feeling one gets in battle when all of his comrades have perished and the defenses have been compromised. The feeling of eminent defeat. They began to grow and change forms, looming above as I shrunk into the hard tile floor, their voices grew with them and I was engulfed in a sea of chaos. I tried to find my happy place.

Then I had a moment. The kids continued to do their thing around me but now in slow motion. I am at peace staring out the windows. Past the metropolis, the Blade Runneresque cityscape, through the smog and into the green hills. I remember what my mom would yell to get my attention when I was a child. What really showed that it was serious time. I turned back to my class.

"YA! Jo yung ey!"

Translation: a sharp, loud "ya" in the tone of voice you would use to scare someone out of the hiccups followed by the Korean words for "be quiet."

The kids were startled and at attention. My chest puffed.

KOBE!