Job.

Job. That's what I'm doing here for about eight tenths of my time. This is the first time in my life I've actually had a full-time real-deal job, so it's unclear which parts of my impressions are Korea-specific and which parts are just plain ignorance.

My job is to teach English to high schoolers in the mornings, then teach psychology and speech to high schoolers in the afternoon. I am not qualified for this work. Doesn't matter.

My teaching environment is Gwangju Foreign School. For a school that costs about $12,000 a year, it ain't much to look at.Please note the vending machines by the front door. There you can buy coffee made with melanine-tainted creamer from China. It's the only way to start your day.

Across the street is a fish processing plant, down the road is a pig slaughterhouse, and next door is a GM service center with a surly attendant. Down the street there's a Coca-Cola bottling facility (no tours available) and a middle school.

Turns out, teaching is hard. Probably even harder than actually being in high school, which, as I recall, was a stupid waste of time and testosterone. Only 2 in 5 kids actually care ("But aren't Koreans so hard working?" you may ask. No. High schoolers are high schoolers.), and having a couple of smart students means that I actually need to know my stuff. Alas. The upside is that I'm on American work hours - many Korean public schools go from 7:30 am till 10:30 pm.

Co-workers are good. Boss forgot to pay us last week. It's a mixed bag.

I live here.It may not look like much, and it's only being held together by the wallpaper, but to be fair, it's got a lot of wallpaper (because that way, you don't have to paint). I live on the third floor with Max Winston, another Princeton in Asia-er. We don't have cable or a toilet seat, but we've got a great view of the guy who showers in his laundry room with a hose and a bucket. We also have three airsoft guns and enough open space to do some target shooting. There are plastic bbs all over the floor. Good times.

There's a dog who lives outside. She's a Jindo, and her name is Friend 3. She ostensibly belongs to the handyman and brother of the boss, Mr. Myung, who really deserves his own post. So I'll tell you about Friends 1 and 2 at a later date.

I'm currently supervising the high schoolers who aren't taking the PSAT today. Two of them just walked out of the room. Guess it's time to go do the extra-contractual part of the job: crowd control.

High school rules!