FFF (7)- Ms. Jangdang

Fact:  Each fall, every school has their own school festival.

Fact 2:  Asians are amazing artists.

There’s really nothing to compare this to in the United States, so I’ll do my best.  It’s not like field day and it’s not just a talent show, in fact, it’s more of a combination of the two.  In the morning the children play carnival-esk games, sell a random assortment of items, and indulge in the all of the most fattening foods that could possibly exist in Korea. 

And after teaching for the past 69 days, I’ve finally been able to truly see my students’ talents.  Set up around the school are the children’s artwork from the past semester.  Let me be the first to tell you that that whole stereotype about Asians being good at art, well it’s TRUE!!

I felt like a proud mom walking through the hallways, observing their gift for all the hues of art: painting, sketching, sculpting, pottery, literally everything.  I would grab the closest person and brag “Look at what my child did!”  Okay, maybe not, but I surely felt like it.

Following the excitement of the morning activities, we piled into buses and headed to the nearest amphitheater for the talent show.  And might I add that I use that word loosely.  Although adorable, I need to figure out how to politely tell my children that their talents need to be kept to a pen and paper.  Singing and dancing just didn’t quite make it into their gene pool.

However, it’s not like I can brag.  Ask anyone who knows me, singing didn’t exactly get passed down to me either.  But my vice principal didn’t believe me.

It all began about a month ago.  Shortly after beating a child to the point of tears and a lovely, rainbow bruise, my vice principal paid me a brief visit.  Stick still in hand, he kindly “asked” (I prefer the word told, but I’m partial) me to sing at the school festival.  Immediately my first response was “Ah-ni-yo, Ah-no-yo”.  But of course he didn’t settle for this.

For the next ten minutes I tried to convince him that singing wasn’t exactly my forte.  But to no avail, I failed.  “Ah-ni-yo” somehow changed to “nee”.  Ugh, that damn beating stick.

As requested, I would be able to choose my own song and practice.  Well thank you for being so kind and giving me that option.  So for the next two weeks I lost sleep over which song to chose.  “Hmm… which song doesn’t make me sound that bad?”  And quite obviously I couldn’t come up with a sangle (single in South twang) song.

My agony must have been written all over my face, as my co-teachers noticed that somehow I seemed a little tense about the school festival.  So I blurted out my worries and they immediately empathized with me.  To make a long story short, I eventually wiggled my way out of that conundrum and just ended up singing with all the other teachers.  WHEW.  Singing will officially be kept to norebangs and cars, with windows down and the music wayyy up.

Following the talent show, we were greeted by a horde of males dressed as females, in pursuit of the Ms. Jangdang title.  Now this was nothing like Ms. America, where the contestants are asked a series of questions and greet the audience with their talents.  Instead these boys, girls, its, whatever you would like to call them, danced to K-Pop (Korean Pop) songs, imitating the sexual moves performed by typically female artists.

In hysterics throughout the entire show, I could only image what was passing through the conservative minds of my principal and vice principal.  Not to mention, someone really should have instructed the contestants that spreading your legs in a skirt reveals your goodies.  Regardless, the show allowed for an unexpected ab workout.

In the end, “ah-ni-yo” actually worked out for the best of all worlds and I got to see a whole new side of my children.  Whether it be gifted or slightly embarrassing, as a male or “female”, I’m still proud to call them my children and brag about their talents.