bad metaphor

In American schools, cleaning is taken care of by a custodian or “Groundskeeper Willie” type figure, whereas in most Korean public schools, this important task is left to the students. On the one hand, this system is cost-effective and ostensibly teaches the students an important lesson in responsibility – every day, they are forced to clean up after themselves and their peers. On the other hand, this leads to some pretty lackluster cleaning jobs. I’ve had students do a blind dash around the room with a broom in tow, declaring “FINISHEE!” after ten seconds, to which I get up and individually point out the large pieces of trash they’ve missed. Last semester, I got stuck with these two boys who habitually ran straight home after school, neglecting to even do a lazy attempt at cleaning the English Zone. It’s not just the English Zone, either – I’ve peeked into their homeroom classes and they mostly look like the “after” photos of a natural disaster. To say nothing of the hell that is a middle school restroom…sadly, there are no separate teachers’ restrooms at my school.

Thankfully, this semester, I’ve got an army of girls who show up every day and do a decent job, for the most part. One of the girls is a Queen Bee, and her important function is to bully the other girls into doing their work, through screaming and hair-pulling and intimidation with the mop. Not to mention the things she says to them in Korean that I don’t understand. I fear her methods myself, but am happy to have them deployed to my benefit.

Today, Queen Bee and her sidekick (what should I call her? Duchess Bee? Lady Bee-in-Waiting?) were not productive cleaners, and I chalked that up to the looming midterms. They whispered and giggled and whispered and giggled, and then Queen Bee shouted: “Teacher! Teacher! We go to bathroom!”

Duchess Bee added: “Poo room! We go to poo room!” More squealing and laughter as I yelled back, “I don’t need to know that! Just go!”

They disappeared for awhile and came back, still giggling and whispering. “Teacher! Teacher!” Duchess Bee pointed at her Queen. “Red water!”

Aw, for goodness sake. “Girls I don’t need to know that,” I said, but this again did not deter them from trying to translate this into proper English. “Red water poo room! Red water poo room!” They enlisted another girl to help translate, even though I told them I understood what was going on and that over-sharing wasn’t necessary!

“Teacher teacher!” said the third girl, “not me – she! – blood,” pointing and gesturing at Queen Bee and then with her hands towards the back of her skirt. “Okay! Understand!” I said, over the shrieks of laughter. It turned out that this was indeed a monumental moment in Queen Bee’s life – her first period.

“Teacher teacher!” (it is an unspoken Konglish rule that “teacher” cannot be said less than twice in one breath) “No fly angel! No fly angel!”

Here, my comprehension skidded to a halt. “What are you talking about?”

Through white board drawings in black and red marker, I deduced that “no fly angel” is a kind of bizarre euphemism / translation for “pad.” The two kept shrieking and laughing and not working at all, so I dubbed them the “No Clean Angels.” Which naturally fueled more giggling and not-working. Bloody girls: they’re the reason why the restrooms at my school are fraught with horrors!