the lesson: a snapshot

I’m expecting four fifth graders, we are going to do a lesson on public transportation. I’ve put together four activities and a warmer, I have all of the PowerPoints pulled up and a coffee in my hand. I smile warmly as the door opens. One student walks in. She looks at me with a pained face and says “hospital,” I applaud her for using English and say one word “why.” She says “because” and points at her face. I let her leave, proud that she remembered the question “why” and the proper response “because *blah blah blah.” Another student walks in. She simply says my name and points at my phone where she knows my google translate lives. She types in some hangul, hands me the phone, and repeats the hangul out loud. I can see that she has to leave, but my phone simply says Noksan lead pipe. I let her go, wondering what on earth lead pipe is supposed to mean (Noksan makes sense, it’s the little town that my school is located in). One student shows up, responding to my “how are you” in his same predictable manner: “I am happy every day!” I make a mental note to introduce him to the phrase “I’m always happy.” He sits down, the fourth student doesn’t show up.

I am wondering what to do with this student, I don’t want to waste this well planned lesson when 75% of the class hasn’t shown up. Before I can find a solution one of my sixth grader comes tearing into the classroom. He hides behind a desk. The fifth grader jumps on top of him and they are giggling as they hide from, I assumed, me. “I can see you, you’re not very good at hiding” I say, knowing they only catch a few words. They giggle and say “no Ms. Krystle, we not hiding from  you,” again I feel a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that they can communicate (albeit roughly) with me. Moments later, as I’m wondering who they could be hiding from, I hear a knock on the door. Before I can call out the door opens and another sixth grader sprints in. They find each other and wind up a pile on the floor giggling.

The first sixth grader (who goes by Mario, despite me asking him not to use a pre-made English name) sits down. Excitedly saying, “teach teach, Ms. krystle, what you teach?” They want to play a game, the second sixth grader leaves. We wind up playing hangman. Eventually a third sixth grader joins (this lovely boy goes by Star) and we spend half an hour playing hangman.

After this unexpected class/club moment I met with four other teachers and we spent an hour playing the flute together. I found myself transposing all of my letter names into their fixed do system and teaching fingerings as well as basic acoustic properties of the instrument (air direction and etc.)

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As you can see, teaching in Busan is anything but boring. I’m enjoying the ride.

a weekend in the life of a pool hall junkie

It’s not uncommon for me to leave town for days at a time to pool. Whether to play myself or watch others, I will often run away for an extended weekend to satisfy my inner pool hall junkie. But my friends are always asking me what I’m doing while I’m there. Not explicitly, I have never had a conversation beginning with “So Krystle, what exactly do you do with your time at these pool tournaments” but I have received countless texts every few hours when I’m out of town to the tune of:

Friend: “Hey, what are you doing.” 1pm

Me: “Playing pool.” 1:03

Friend: “Wanna get dinner?” 6 pm

Me: “Still shooting.” 6:25 pm

Friend: “Wanna go get a beer?” 10:45 pm

Me: “At the pool hall.” 10:49 pm

Friend: “Still!?” 10:54 pm

Yes, the same person has sent me these texts in one day during a tournament (the Rocky Mountain open, in case you were wondering which one). She was completely flabbergasted that I was playing pool all. day. long. But my first impulse was to respond with my own question: What do you think I’m going to do when I leave town for a pool tournament? Go swimming?

But lately I have been thinking about it and I’ve realized that I am not quite the norm when it comes to these tournaments so I have decided to outline what happens in a typical tournament for me.

First things first, I play a lot of pool. I’ll be warming up with friends, playing matches, running drills, or just breaking racks and working on my pattern play by myself. I can sit in a pool hall for hours at a time and just play pool with no break, especially when green fees have been included in the entry fee for the tournament. I’ll warm up for hours before my first match and in between matches I’ll hop in on any free table I can find.

I’ll win matches and perhaps I’ll lose some, but until I’m out of the tournament my first priority is getting in some table time. However, when my matches are done for the day (perhaps I made finals and won’t play again until the next evening or I finally lost my second match and am out of the tournament) I am still not done with the hall. At this point I start scoping out the tables, seeing who is playing whom and on which table, and then I’ll shamelessly get the best seat to watch that match.

But how can I sit and watch pool for so long? It’s quite simple, really. If I’ve scope out a match between pro’s, AAA’s, or even AA’s I’m not just passively watching pool. I’m actively participating. I’m running the rack a split second before they do, comparing my shot choices to theirs. I’m learning the game. I’m picking up on creative solutions to problem balls. I’m focusing on the English they are using, the speed, and their approach to every ball and every rack. I’m engrossed in it. I am playing pool vicariously through other people.

I came to this hypothetical tournament with the goal of playing pool and potentially winning some money. But even when I’m out of the tournament I’m still there to pool. Whether to play pool, to watch pool, or to just be around pool, I am constantly learning more about the game.

Between the hours of playing, the hours of watching, the hours of discussing, and the future tournaments being planned, it’s not surprising that I’m always busy at these tournaments. I am not one to lose my matches and then spend the rest of my evening at the bar simply because this is my time for pool. As a masters student studying music the week days are my time for flute, so leaving time for a tournament means a lot to me: it means I will shamelessly ignore everything else—even my hunger—for the sake of the game. It means that I will play countless games, spend dozens of hours in the hall, and meet tons of new people equally infatuated with the game as myself.

Pool tournaments are not simply times for me to play a dozen matches and try to win money, they are times for me to spend every waking hour around a game that I love.

So the next time I’m at a tournament don’t bother asking me what I’m doing or if I want to go out because I am there for one thing: pool.