At special points during the year, I've provided my students with prizes for winning a class contest or volunteering for a difficult task. The week of Christmas, I held team trivia competitions in each of my classes; winning teams received candy canes, a rare item in South Korea.

After one slightly rambunctious class on Christmas eve, I gave the winning team their candy and said goodbye to everyone. But the students did not leave. Instead about half of the 36 member class descended upon my desk, arms outstretched begging for "CANDY!"

At first I tried to laugh along with them, "What? Candy? You brought me some candy?" I kidded.

But they weren't laughing. They just kept crowding in grasping at my blue tote bag filled with sweets.

I was starting to feel a little uneasy and, in my sternest voice, proclaimed "No. Out of my classroom, NOW!"

Zero effect. The kids just kept coming. One started pounding his fists on the white board making the horrible sound of a battle drum.

It was then I realized for the first time why zombies are scary. In the past I'd thought zombies were a silly horror; why not just push them down or walk around them? But these students were just like the living dead, only their thirst was for sugar, not brains. With their arms out and their cries for "CANDY!" like moans, there was a fear that I could be eaten alive by mistake.

The only reason I'm here today to write this tale is that I relented and gave up candy to the masses. While they were distracted by their sugar injections I slipped out of the classroom and up to the teachers lounge before they could regroup and besiege me for seconds.

Today, in one of my first grade classes (I teach at a middle school, so it's first grade of middle school -- or in U.S. terms 6th grade) I broke the class into groups and asked each to come up with a team name.

Keep in mind these kids are between 10 and 12 years-old.

One team decided on the name "Mr. Kotter." I even had them spell it to make sure.

No confirmation yet if they were fans of the show or just Horseshack.

For men in Korea, sexual power is a big deal.
Perhaps I should clarify.
For men, sexual power is a big deal.
No, still not totally accurate. Let's try this...
For the living anywhere on Earth, sexual power is a big deal.

The difference in Korea is that men talk about it openly and have a plethora of secrets to increase said power. Nearly anything you ingest that remotely resembles a phallus is supposed to charge up your loins, including eel, sea slugs and dog. (Yes they eat dog here... and if you eat pig, cow or rabbit I don't want to hear about the horror of eating 'man's best friend').

Last weekend I might have had the ultimate in sexual-power elixir. At a holiday party for some members of my gym, my friend Master Lee brought a special bottle of the traditional Korean liquor, soju. This massive vial of soju held a male seal's genitalia, supposedly infusing the drink with near magical sexual energy. This picture was taken after we'd finished about half the canister.

And getting this wasn't cheap. Apparently this one seal-unit infused tube of soju cost about $2500, which we figured made each shot about $75. This was a rare luxury I was really lucky to be able to try; most of the Koreans at the party admitted they'd never had the opportunity to try such a drink before.

It was about the best tasting soju I've had; it was incredibly smooth and easy to drink. But I didn't suddenly feel like a bunny in spring time, nor did women flock to me as I walked home.

As for the leftover seal parts, Master Lee is planning to refill the canister with more soju and let it absorb the remaining energies for next year. If you're interested, drop by my gym and mention my name... maybe the folks there will invite you to next year's uniquely Korean holiday party.

Just after lunch today, one of my Korean co-teachers told me a "very famous" Korean comedian named Jeong Jong-Cheol was coming to our school this afternoon.

"Why?" I asked.
"To talk to kids about their dreams. Their futures."
"Why?" I repeated, "Is he being paid? Is he a criminal doing community service?" I guessed based on the motivations of American comics performing similarly.
"No. I don't think so. I don't know why," she replied.

It seems as though the comic is kind of like a Carrot Top. Not in that he uses props, but like Carrot Top, everyone (including the students) claims he's terrible. Yet everyone was rushing to meet him when he showed up and were pushing each other out of the way to get seats in the auditorium.

It was mostly students at the show, but the principal was there looking stoic. Also, some of the lunch crew stayed to watch.

As for his actual jokes, I'll let you be the judge. This is a clip I took at his performance today of his riff on Starcraft. That was about all I could understand.

For the past three months, I've taught an after-school English class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.

There were a total of 14 students, although one was almost always absent. Usually, by the end of the school day they were sick of studying and I was sick of teaching, so most days we spent the 50 minutes playing English games like Tic-Tac-Toe-Hangman and Do You Love Your Neighbor.

The best English practice I ever got out of them were the times they'd just talk with me. For example, before my friend Emily visited, I had the class make a welcome poster. They loved the activity and spent the time asking me about her, what things she likes that they could include on the poster and offered advice on what she should do while visiting. One day last week when I wasn't feeling well, the students basically took over the class and taught me some Korean games like 3,6,9 and a kind of water-less Marco-Polo.

At the start of the semester I asked them to write their names in English on the attendance sheet. I expected them to just write "Park Jin Wook" and things of that nature. Instead they made their own names. So I ended up with everything from Henry, to Cortez, to Obama and Gandalf and strangely enough one boy who chose "Jane."

The class wasn't all sunshine and lollipops; there were plenty of times I would have loved to ring their necks. Even now, there are at least a couple of students I hope to bar from taking a class from me ever again. But there are several of the students who I'll miss. These were the kids I saw the most often each week and therefore had the best opportunity bond with.

Here's a class photo I took after our final meeting where we ate pizza and watched Finding Nemo.