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The English teacher got up from his desk, and went for a walk around campus.  He needed the fresh air.  He needed to lift his mood.  He needed to question his purposes at Korea's "best school" for the gifted.  Ah.... what the gifted have gifted upon me! 

For some reason... he'd invited upon himself the wrath of "creativity" which he'd formerly prided himself on seeking and upholding.  Creativity....  To unlock creativity, or not to unlock creativity... that was the question.  "Creativity" was such an educational buzzword.  Perhaps forcing it upon busy students was not the answer, no matter how generous the deadline.  You can't demand creativity.... or can you?  Ken Robinson said school's were "killing creativity," and right now, the English teacher felt as if creativity were killing him.

"Rise, the red angel,
Have you not drowned and damned yourself
in wine?
Do glare at the limp body
that falls from the sky
For it is thine." 

What the hell did that even mean?  It sounded quite good actually, and as the English teacher walked towards Dasan, he couldn't help but think an entire bottle of wine might be essential to grading the rest of these "metafictions." Or, more accurately, metadisasters.

 When Wendy finished her wrestling training, she went to a bar and drank some beer with her friend. Wendy drank 10 bottles of soju&beer, and she dozed off. While Wendy was sleeping, her friend found the post above. So the friend woke her up and showed it to Wendy. “Who the hell dared to wrote this trash?"

Trash... that was such a strong word. And Wendy. Whom among all these wonderful students was "Wendy."   What had inspired "Wendy"? Why do students have to write about alcohol so much? It's not like they've even tasted it before. Perhaps that was it.

A Korean proverb says, “Birds hear words of daytime. (낮말은 새가 듣는다.)” But sometimes, birds do much more than just hearing words. Some birds are not only ‘word hearers’ but also ‘word carriers.’ 

Y.S RyuMarch 13, 2016 at 11:18 PM

It was very interesting to see a pelican being anthropomorphized- the bird shouted, read a letter, and even think about complicated things. 

Can birds also hear English teachers crying inside over "complicated things"? Y.S Ryu was right though.  This was an interesting beginning... until it got literally "messy."

The life philosophy of KMLA students is BCD; Birth, Chicken, and Death. I really want to tell how much students whom ate bloody chickens are suffering from pain. One of my best friends, Mitchell, pooped blood. He is suffering from diarrhea. Mike is vomiting every five minutes.

Poor Mitchell.  An actual member of the class.  The English teacher recalled discouraging students from using actual names.  Which is why, apparently, some daring students thought it might be clever to mimic them.

Professor Garrioll was in love with the Kolakoski Sequence. He would start every class by writing, “One, two, two, one, one, two, one, two, two, one, two, and … Leo, what’s the next number? I would be very disappointed if you don’t get it. It’s a probability of 50 percent!”

What were these students smoking?  Fumes from the chemistry lab must have been tampering with their brains, he considered as he passed several tombstones along a rubber path, all bearing names of students who contributed to KMLA greatness.  Perhaps the "Kolakoski Sequence" would win one them a Nobel Prize. It did sound rather interesting.  And yet, as the English teacher approached the front of the stairs of the Dasan Building, he decided not to enter its foreboding doors.... fearing the Kolakoski Virus might be present in the very scientific air of such a facility... where - obviously - most students spent more time on oddly named sequences than writing carefully written assignments for English Composition.  

"Hello Mr. Garrioch!" 

Two polite juniors, boys holding hands, streamed past the English teacher as he turned towards the soccer field.  The hand holding was affectionate and innocent, and yet, he was reminded of one particular "romance novel" that perhaps suggested otherwise: 

 When he went there, Josh was waiting for him with the scent of perfume. The two were not the only people who were at the rooftop at that time. Samuel, the best friend of James', was there, too. Josh said. “Yes… I’m the one who wrote the letter,” with shy smile.

Did KMLA have such a rooftop?  

Jen2016년 3월 13일 오후 11:19

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
1. I didn't know three chain writings could be made into a story that has 2? 2.5? layers. The story is funny in itself that diverse crazy stories are intertwined, and you can never know what to expect. 

2. And all of it still makes sense so it's nice.

How to punish Jen.  This is something the English teacher considered as he walked around the track.  Why were these students encouraging each other to become William S. Burroughs?  Jen surely needed to be punished.  Perhaps Jen would like to explain to Mr. Garriol what this all meant:

Yes.. I’m going crazy.. Now I know what I really have to do: to be the Kungfu master. Let's go to the Shaolin Monastery. I will be back, you hairdresser!! I will shave my head and practice silent performance. Let me see if you can crumble me again! If you can't, then I'll make you bitterly feel the world of kungfu!!

Jen would be forced to perform kungfu. That seemed apropriate.  And then, there was this:

Am I hurting your feelings? If so, good cuz' you deserve to be hurt. You are such a selfish creature. I know every human has selfishness in themselves, but they at least try to pretend they care about other people. I love myself, but I tell you that I love you for the sake of it. You were selfish not just in your mind, but with your acts as well. You never show any effort to tell me you love me. Do you even love me? Well, I'm starting doubt it.

As soon as she read this sentence, she dropped the letter because of a sudden engine noise made by the car rushing beside her. Being a little frightened, she turned back and picked up the paper. She could recognize a green Tico slowing down, stopping on the roadside nearby. The door opened, and it was obvious that ten years were not enough to fade his face out from her mind.

Romance and a Tico? Still better than Twilight, perhaps.  But what about this:

Walking down the street, I met Yejoo, who used to be the “Queen Lion” of the “KMLA jungle”. She used to call herself like that. She graduated early for being such an excellent student, and did get double eyelids by plastic surgery. I asked her if she was having great days, even though I expected so.

     “Hey! How you doin’?”

     “Um… Not so good, actually. “

     I was kind of confused.

Such dialogue! Stephanie Meyer take note! 

The English teacher sighed, and decided to head back to the English Building.  Not only was it time for him to actually grade these works of genius, but the track was no longer his alone. Miss Lee, the Chemistry teacher, power walked past him with an air of disdain, and he was made to feel as if he were trespassing.  Zipped up in a black hoodie, he was reminded of this bit of "magic realism," which actually held some potential:

. Sure I could’ve run away, but frankly speaking, I wanted to be the first person to contact extraterritorial creature and get some college essay topic. Swinging my arms, some jelly-like substance made a sound, hitting my hand. Listening to the sound, I looked inside hoodie in awe for a while – there was a black hole.  

Please swallow me, black hole! For I do not wish to destroy my students with honest feedback!

He found out he can feel waves by some neurons and he can feel something by ‘Netrocan Light’ - which is the light that human didn’t find yet- with visualizing.

"Shall I shine this Netrcoan light into a dancing hoodie in order to defy the Kalokoski Sequence!" The English teacher considered heading up into the mountains, so he could scream at the sky. "An average score below 89.5! Never before!" 

He arrived back in his office, and decided to write a blog post - rife with honest criticism, which these students obviously needed.  Babying them would achieve nothing, and soft, willfully positive praise for less than stellar work would only encourage them further into their terrible habits of not planning what they write AHEAD of time.  It's as if they all just decided to be random toddlers getting high on sugar in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.  

He sat down at his computer, logged into his blog, and began to type:

Foreword:  Be warned before you read! I am frustrated right now! I have never given low scores like this with an average score being below 89.5! Usually I am generous, and not so difficult to impress.  But this..... I shudder to say more!  SO - I will try to be nice.  I really want you all to succeed.  I don't want to give B's! So consider the first assignment a "wake up call."  You guys gotta work harder and think more before you write!  Want to know your score?  I don't think you do! But if you insist, send me a message and I will tell you your code name.

And you want to know what the "Fourth Wall" is?  This is me breaking it! This is no longer metaficiton! Those scores above are real! This blog post is real!

Honestly, during my entire time at KMLA, I have never been as disappointed as I am now with the general level of quality of a particular writing assignment.  Most of these were "not good," and that's being polite.  So, I have to ask myself... did I explain it properly?  Did we discuss it enough?  What went wrong?????  Because I have done this assignment with EVERY junior writing class since I started at KMLA, and never has this happened!  Why????  What went wrong?

First of all, most of the chain-writing was somewhat useless.  That might be it. In the past, when I've done this assignment, I created prompts to get students writing different things for specific purposes.  Maybe the "freedom" I gave you backfired.  Or, I should have made rules - such as "make sense" and "take it seriously" and  "don't write about KMLA."  I think I did suggest the first two, if not the latter.

Problems:

1) Many of you didn't follow the rules.  Using more than one chainwriting?  That's crazy! Why would you make an already complicated writing assignment MORE COMPLICATED!  I literally had to stop myself from bashing my head against my desk.

2) Basic grammar and spelling.  Yes, I know some students have an advantage in terms of language ability and are humanities students who have lived abroad.  BUT - surely you can use spell check and notice grade-school level errors I would barely tolerate from a GLPS student.  RE-READ! Inspect your work before you post it or print it!

3) SERVE YOUR READER! Your reader is the only reason you should be writing.  Don't be greedy with basic details and courtesy. Don't leave them behind. Take them on a guided tour of your imagination and don't throw away the map!  The 5 W's are tantamount to ethical communication. Forget one and you've forgotten them all!  No one wants to read drug-induced ramblings.

4) Take things seriously! This is the only assignment you've had so far. I gave you plenty of time to do it.  We spent lots of time on it. I gave an extension.  Put in some effort and don't do it 15 minutes before class starts!  Don't treat writing assignments (even fun "creative" ones) as arbitrary slap-this-and-that-together opportunities to scroll nonsense ----------------------------------------------!

The English teacher stopped himself.  Was this what he really wanted to say to students?  Wasn't it too harsh?  What happens if they cry?  Or seek revenge when it comes time to complete the teacher evaluation?

Perhaps he would allow them to write it again.  But... he considered.  Wasn't that like asking for more mental abuse?  Hadn't he suffered enough?

Yes. He had.  And so, he pressed PUBLISH.

_________________________________

"Seriously, I hate Mr. Garrioll!"

Joss and Leon sat together on the 11th floor, as they tried to figure out what Ivy League university they were.

"What does he know? Your story was brilliant!"

"Seriously! I say we feed him some chicken!"

"Or send Wendy after him!"

The sound of daegum signaled it was time for Honjung, and as they rose from their seats, they realized someone had been standing behind them all along.  And it wasn't Mr. Kim.

"One, two, two, one, one, two, one, two, two, one, two, and … Leon, what’s the next number? I would be very disappointed if you don’t get it. It’s a probability of 50 percent!”

      

and then...

WHACK!

FINIS

"And now you know what metafiction is! Muhahahahahaha!"

The English teacher left the dormitory, got into his car, and never came back.

An excellent college essay making use of metafiction...

Thread-like wound.

 My grandfather collects furniture.  He restores it.  He knows everything about it, and loves the story of wood.  One day, he sent me an envelope and asked me to fix his writing:

When valuing the quality of wooden furniture on the practical level, the flexibility and the hardness of the material are most important. The aesthetic quality, which becomes more important as the furniture becomes expensive, focuses on the beauty of the grain of the wood and the clean surface of the wood. A crack in the furniture is unexpected, but deadly and could ruin the furniture.

“Let’s go to the sauna, HanMin.”

My father interrupted me for our Sunday morning ritual.  We would go to the local sauna. We would scrub each other’s backs, get refreshed, and return home after eating popsicles together.

“The water isn’t very hot this time, HanMin.”

                  As we have always done, my father first scrubbed my back and I turned to scrub his. Then I noticed the difference in the father who I remembered, and the man he actually was. He had lost more weight, his back had become stooped, and his fingers twisted from long hours of work.

                  My father had a crack.

“Dad, start exercising. You have to take care of yourself.”

“Okay I will, HanMin. Don’t worry.”

                  The cause of my father’s crack was me. At least I thought so. I was suffering from the competiveness and a busy life of boarding school.  I wondered if I pushed my agony and sorrow onto people near me. I sometimes blamed my parents for my troubles. I spent my time vaguely, between work and play.  I knew I was being selfish, but I thought my vanity lay in love. I also had crack in myself.

“HanMin, take a cab to go home. I have to go to work.”

                  After coming home, thinking more about my father, I felt the crack grow inside me. Who was I? My vanity seemed to go against the grain of those around me. I was too resistant of accepting myself for who I was truly being.  Maybe not who I truly am.  Who could I be if I was more realistic and honest with myself? How could I fix the crack in my father’s health? If I could fix my own, I could fix his.

When wooden furniture became cracked, our ancestors covered the furniture and stored it. From the cold, arid atmosphere of winter, the wood would dry and from the hot humid weather of summer, the wood would reform and reshape itself.

                  Admitting my naivety was harder than I thought. Though I could say that I was young, understanding and admitting my faults from the heart, it seemed unreal. My father was once young like me.  He also had a father.  Did they go to the sauna as well? I recalled all those times during the summer and winter breaks. We would go to the sauna every week and have long conversations. The topics sometimes offended me or him, but we both knew that those were necessary. The heat and humidity of the sauna tempered and raised me.

If the furniture survives its trials, then the wood finds its original figure, and the crack is left as a thread-like wound - a glorious mark of its growth. Then, though it has the same quality as other well-made furniture, it is considered as exceptional furniture.

                  My life had been a continuing sequence of avoiding and hiding from myself and the reality. I was afraid. However, after realizing who I am, how my father loves me, I have tried to change myself. I now know that there are friends, teachers, and my father behind me  - who will always give help and support even when I face the ugliest and hardest truths. I now know that I have to carry myself, and though I should not follow the errors of my life, I have to keep them, be responsible for them, and love them.

                  The crack in me has been found, and is turning into a scar. My father has quit smoking and started exercising. My family seems tighter. I am becoming more self-aware.

Then, though it has the same quality as other well-made furniture, it is considered as exceptional furniture.  The artistry is a wonderful accident, that gives the wood the quality of art.

My grandfather’s words are also my father’s words.  I hear them in him.  I hear them in myself.  There is nothing I can change on paper to make them better.  I can only learn to listen to them more. 

Need some reminders on what metafiction is?

Hello Students,

I think this week's assignment is fun, so I'd like you to think creatively, and literally follow the quote below from Banksy:

"Think outside the box, collapse the box, and take a (insert bad word) sharp knife to it." — Banksy

What you will be taking a knife to and sculpting are the Chain Writing Essays.   Think of them as a "story within a story," where you superimpose a character and situation on top of the "found object" in an "inception-like" way.  Does that make sense?  Probably not.  

Likely, those Chain Writing stories are a bit off kilter, and make for an entertaining read.  So, do consider whimsically: If we were to pretend that a single person had actually written them seriously, who would that person be, and what inspired them to write what they'd written?  What was their creative process?  That's a start.  You could include the best parts of the story and write from the perspective of the writer.  OR, you could put yourselves in the shoes of someone who ends up finding/reading that work (a teacher, a mother, a publisher, or someone sitting on a bus).  What is their reaction?  How does the story within the story create or influence THEIR story?

Essentially, this writing exercise is literature's version of "found object."  Under the umbrella of found object  we have found footage, found audio, found sculpture, and even found poetry.  Basically, a "found object" is defined as finding something and reinventing it's context for artistic purposes.  For our purposes, we are taking collective group writing and supplanting it into hands of one writer (you) - who will then wrap a character(s) and situation(s) around that story.  A story within a story.

Think of this as a "mash up."  You can do whatever you want, include whatever you want, and splice it up like a film editor any way you want - so long as it has layers and explores "intertextuality."

Here are some helpful links:

Make sure you fully understand "metaficiton."

Reading that Wiki page, you will come across "story within a story."   It actually does exist as a literary device.

Furthermore, there is the "frame story," which is more directly what you will most likely fulfill.

Also consider "the fourth wall,"  which is basically described as "the imaginary boundary between any fictional work and its audience."

As a tiny clue I hope you won't read, I leave a link below to the absolute best example of metafiction written by an excellent student from the 16th wave.  Do I want you to read it?  No.  Because I want to see what you do without seeing a former example I like, which I hope you would not emulate (consciously or otherwise).  So..... no.  I won't include the link.







http://ej-lee.blogspot.kr/2011/11/metafiction.html