You know when sometimes you just want to curl up and bawl?

Yesterday at 6 pm, I was ready and fully planning to go back to my apartment and cry for at least half an hour curled up in fetal position on my pink comforter. Then, a wonderful thing happened--one of my coworkers took me out for dinner and a beer.

When I came to Dongtan, I was under the impression that the "co-teachers" I'd been promised were going to be in the classroom along with me and that I would have two days of training before starting to work. Not so, on either count. One of the other teachers' contracts ended last week, and she made up her mind to leave. I met Emily, this teacher, last Saturday, when she took me out for a night to the outlying area of Seoul, and she told me about her contract and reasons for wanting to leave and that it had ended badly because the school wanted her to stay longer--the information I didn't get, though, was how much her fully justifiable actions were going to affect me. Instead of receiving two days of training from and then taking over for another teacher named Micky, whose contract is also ending and who has a normal amount of classes and a total of one co-teacher to work with, I was thrown immediately and rather mercilessly to the wolves of Emily's overloaded class schedule and plethora of co-teachers. I taught six full class periods--by myself--the very first day, for five different groups of students, a couple of which contained the brattiest little snots I have ever come across (okay, admittedly, I was new and overwhelmed, so they were really testing me and I really had no way of coping--and a couple of the classes' students were pretty good). I followed someone else's lesson plans as I went along, over half the time not knowing if I was using the right textbook or knowing for sure that I couldn't even find the stupid thing. I ended up with stacks of textbooks and papers on my desk that loomed dangerously close to eye level, and still the Korean teachers wouldn't quit throwing more at me. I tried. I froze up. I failed. I honestly considered breaking the contract in flight for the States. I had one saving grace, in the person of one of my co-workers, a Tennesseean (correct term? I doubt it) named Milindi. She constantly checked up on me, answered as many questions as I could cohere from my short-circuiting brain, brought me worksheets and books I needed for the day, and took me out after work.

Today was infinitely better. Emily came back in for a day to help me and do some training, the kids were incomparably easier to control and teach, the lessons came together, and I even had some fun. I have embarked on the voyage of writing lesson plans, devising clever visual aides and disciplinary measures, and grading homework, and I only hope I will find my sea legs before long, because this kind of open water makes and has made me ill for quite some time. I thought that I had a frantic life back in the US--I am dismayed to tell you it pales in comparison to this Korean existence. The terrible, yet hilarious, reason behind the mayhem here (according to an American co-worker) is that Koreans are hopelessly disorganized. I hate to say it, but it makes me laugh pretty hard to imagine the reason behind their urgent clip and rapid-fire speech to be an obligation to fix the things they weren't able to do right ahead of time or the first time around.

More facts about South Korea: they recycle EVERYthing, and what's left for garbage has to be sorted into food and non-food, each of which goes into its own special kind of bag you must buy. No substitutes. And I have yet to see an outdoor garbage can in Dongtan.

This morning, on the walk to work, I saw a Korean granny wearing a pants suit and heels riding a 3'-tall bike with training wheels. That picture would have been worth a thousand words.

Link to the second photo album is http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2037537&id=1306823245&l=67fa3361e1