Goodness gracious., I have no traditions to break.
Like I said last week, there isn’t much going on over here in the This is a Blog residence. Nope, not much at all. However, I feel like I owe my readers (that is, if there are any left at this point…anyone?) an actual blog entry for once. So I’ll be talking about something that’s not really a tradition, but something a do every week.
I go to Korean School.
Every Saturday I wake up at 8 in the morning and reluctantly roll out of my warm, comfortable bed just to go to three and a half hours of pure torture.
“But oh!” you swoon, hand placed dramatically on your head as you reel back in surprise with eyelashes fluttering, “Torture is too harsh of a word! Surely it cannot be that bad!”
Well, to you I say it is that bad. Also, don’t swoon too much.
I hear it’s bad for the lungs.
The whole class just kinda…sits there and listen while the teacher goes on in Korean about sentence structure and how you conjugate this and this, but nooo you aren’t supposed to conjugate it like that. Don’t forget that THIS syllable sounds like THIS in THIS circumstance, but THIS like THIS in THIS circumstance.
Oh, and I probably don’t understand about 60% of it, so I just kinda sit there and nod like I know what the heck is going on whenever I don’t know what she’s saying.
As you can assume, I happen to do a lot of nodding in that class.
Let’s not forget that I am seldom allowed to skip class due to the fact that attending Korean school, quote my mother, “costs money”. That’s not really the reason that I’m thinking, though.
You see, dear older sister of mine also attended Korean school with me, but she got held back one too many grade levels and wasn’t able to fully graduate. This meant dear mother was left with a sense of emptiness, but then remembered that she still had me.
The second child.
At that moment, I was doomed to be shackled to those dreaded classes.
So the “tradition” I want to break is going to that forsaken place every week. I want to leave that classroom and never turn back.