The days feel as though they are getting shorter, and my gaze is cast home towards the West. I have never been to the East before, and Eastern thought, and patterns of life are ultimately impossible to understand and gauge in just five weeks. I would never raise a family in South Korea- Lord willing. The trek down the mountain was laborious, even though it was just idling on a bus. Once we arrived we were thrown into the classroom unprepared once again, however, I do feel the lack of preparation is stretching my mind in new directions, and the territorial bounds of my creative facets are constantly being pusheqd forward. I look at my mind as an elastic band, it can bend, stretch, and be molded into about any position, but there comes a point when my mind becomes slack and saggy, and I feel that that moment is approaching quickly. We have only one more day of English camp in Iksan, and then we’re off to JeonJu to wrap up the last three weeks of the trip. I am missing home terribly, but the opportunities melodies sing much louder than the sorrow of my heart, for the time being. My aversion towards bratty children has grown even stronger during this trip- what usually is sequestered- has become vivid, and shown in my actions, I am sick of kids.
Today, like many other the days, I had to discipline my students.
Today was not like any of the other days, because I took it to the next level. I clicked my patience one notch higher, and waited for my students to practically demand correction. Instead of leaving them with Eric, I took them down the hall a couple more classrooms to Dan. Dan had expressed interest in my disciplining practices and was keen to experience the corrective joy firsthand. The first victim came back balling; the second wouldn’t talk the rest of the afternoon, and the third simply shriveled up within ten seconds of being confronted. There is a sick pleasure that manifests itself on you when you are given authority, and I would argue that I am not twisting or conforming the ideal of discipline to a manic maniac state, but on the contrary, given no other mediums in which to correct. Shame is the best tool to pry out pride.
We held a rally for the students and preformed for them.
Seeing joy exude itself upon children is such a simple pleasure.
Today was not like any of the other days, because I took it to the next level. I clicked my patience one notch higher, and waited for my students to practically demand correction. Instead of leaving them with Eric, I took them down the hall a couple more classrooms to Dan. Dan had expressed interest in my disciplining practices and was keen to experience the corrective joy firsthand. The first victim came back balling; the second wouldn’t talk the rest of the afternoon, and the third simply shriveled up within ten seconds of being confronted. There is a sick pleasure that manifests itself on you when you are given authority, and I would argue that I am not twisting or conforming the ideal of discipline to a manic maniac state, but on the contrary, given no other mediums in which to correct. Shame is the best tool to pry out pride. 
Seeing joy exude itself upon children is such a simple pleasure.
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