"All right then, I'll go to hell."

There are so many times as a teacher, just as there are so many times in any job, that involve going through the motions. There are just so many subject-predicate-complete thought sessions and so many Gift of the Magi readings one can do before it becomes pretty much rote. (If you're wondering, the numbers are four and two, respectively.)

But occasionally I'm reminded of what I love about being an English teacher This always happens when I teach Huck Finn. (My late uncle Charles, perhaps incidentally, was one of the world's great Twain collectors; his widow sold his stash to a Japanese collector for $3 million.) I learned to love Twain at a young age; all the Cornman men in my dad's generation strove for that dry, ironic wit and more than anything else when I was a kid I wanted to make people laugh like my dad did. (Yeah, I'm still trying.) (A sidebar: Uncle Charles had a tabby cat named Tearalong the Dotted Lion.)

More than that, I agree with Hemingway that "all American literature begins" with Huck Finn. Huck is the American literary hero, I think, plucky and rebellious and with a great, great heart. It's a shame that so many people can't see past the fact that Huck (the boy) is a racist (since that's all he's ever learned) to see that Huck (the book) is a powerful statement against racism. I've taught American lit in English 11 for a dozen years, and I always, always teach Huck; one student's mother in St. Augustine initially didn't want her son to read the book because of that word, but I explained how I would approach it and the background work I wold do in my introduction, and he read it and it was fine.

More than any other literary scene I love the part we got to today, where Huck's written a letter to Miss Watson to turn Jim in and believes he has to mail it or he'll be punished forever for the "evil" of helping Jim escape. He takes a deep breath and says, "All right then, I'll go to hell" and the reader knows in that moment that Huck's heart is much wiser and stronger than his head.

...and I teach my butt off on this chapter, better, I think, than on anything else I do, making it come alive, explaining the stakes and the significance and why Huck is such a terrific kid, and hoping my enthusiasm is catching.

Here in Korea, as at the vocational high school in Florida, and even with the "bright" kids at the Catholic school, I have to wonder if the kids are getting it. They're attentive, but are they going, "Yeah, yeah... what's the old man on about this time?"

But all you can do as a teacher is to try to connect with the students and lay out the information as clearly and interestingly as you can.

And hope.

He's a cute li'l basset, isn't he?

Heeduk's edited a couple of instructional videos I shot recently, and you know how you reacted the first time you ever heard your own voice in a recording? "I don't sound like that, do I?"

I don't sound and look like that, do I?

(I tried to upload a video to illustrate, but Blogger's being recalcitrant. It's been trying to load the video for 45 minutes. It hurts to be rejected by a machine.)

See, in my head, my persona is the poor man's Andy Rooney/Tom Bodett/Garrison Keillor/Mark Twain, that is, full of wry, detached, droll observations on life, somehow slightly cynical but wise and affectionate. But, despite my avuncular wisdom I think of myself as well, not youthful, but timeless. Garrison Keillor in 1974, perhaps.

...certainly not the saggy, baggy, drawling, sad-eyed guy in the video. I don't know who that guy is, and it's too bad the rest of the world sees him and thinks he's me.

He did do a really good job explaining subject-verb agreement, though...

The future's so bright...

The way is clearing for my move to the St. Paul Preparatory School in August. LIKE is releasing me from my contract on Friday the 21st, St. Paul's promised to move me, and I start there on Monday the 24th.

I'd been getting a little nervous as I'd heard very little from them recently and the South Korean government has a blue ribbon in red tape. (Yeah, I know...)

But it's all smoothing out. The reason I hadn't heard anything is that the principal's been let go. But Mr. Park, the money guy, is still in charge, and Tony, the teacher who's my one friend there and who worked so hard last year to get me there, is the temporary administrator.

As it turns out, I don't need another apostilled criminal check from Tallahassee or a trip to the US Embassy in Seoul or a flight to Japan to renew my visa. I just need a letter of release from Mrs. Kim at LIKE and we're good to go. Tony will do the rest.

The St. Paul school can't remain in their suburban Bundang building, as they've outgrown it, but the planned move to the country fell through, so they've acquired space in the city proper, with an apartment building for the teachers a kilometer away. There's also a Costco (and, one assumes, Costco pizza, as well as Tums) a short walk away, so assuming I can bear living in the middle of the world's second-biggest metro area, and the North doesn't precipitate M*A*S*H 2: This Time it's Not Funny, I'm just about all set. Nice.