Game of Amateurs - Adaptation by Ja Eun Kim

JaEun Kim, 121024      

Mr. Garrioch

Catcher in the Rye Fan Fiction

2013. 03. 31

This is an adaptation of chapter 1 and 2, where Holden walks past the football game and visits Mr. Spencer.

Anyway, it was the Saturday of the club fair. The club fair was supposed to be a very big deal around KMLA. It was held only once in a year, and you were supposed to present all your goddam cheerfulness and pretend like your life was all about the goddam club activities. I remember around 11’o clock in that morning I was standing in the middle of the crowded Dasan lobby, right next to this crazy club which thought they were digging up all the injustice in the society. They were singing a song about the school’s corruption, and it was noisy as hell. You could see the whole event from there, the juniors reaching out and grabbing the freshmen to make them sign up for their club and all. You could hear them all yelling, because practically all the juniors and freshmen of the school were there.

           There were never many happy dudes at all here at KMLA. We were only allowed to think about the future. It was a terrible school, no matter how you looked at it. I like to be in somewhere at least were you can see a few happy dudes around once in a while, even if all they’re doing is just scratching their arms or playing the goddam Frisbee.

           The reason I was stuck in the middle of the goddam crowd, instead of occupying a table, was because I’d just finished the goddam Samuchim performance. Very big deal. We practiced for it from the early in the morning. Only, the crazy performance didn’t go well. We were supposed to shake our heads like madmen and pretend like we were crazy about the music and all. But I suddenly didn’t feel like it. I wasn’t in the mood to shake my goddam head. You really have to be in the right mood when you are doing such a phony stuff. So I threw the drumstick away in the middle of the goddam performance. Everybody was gasping like madmen when I just did it, but they soon resumed to carry out their phony fair. Look, nobody even recognizes me now.

           Anyway, I got out of Dasan and started to climb up the hill toward the English building. It was icy as hell and I damn near fell down. Everybody run out of their damn breath when they are climbing this hill. They complain, but they still climb. They all knew goddam clearly that this climbing business was damn hard and they also knew that they don’t want to do it. But they do it anyway. It’s the way this school is. As I was struggling along the empty road, I felt like I was sort of disappearing. It was that kind of a crazy morning. Terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and only distant shouting of students down at Dasan was heard.

           Boy, I knocked that door hard when I got to the old Mr. J’s office. I was really frozen. Goddam Nubi is actually no good at all and I felt like my cheeks were falling off. “C’mon, c’mon,” I said right out loud, almost. “Come on in.” Old Mr. J finally answered it. They never open the door for you. They always call you out to give you a goddam lecture or make you do the goddam errand, but they never open the door for you.

           The reason I went all they way up to his office in the goddam weather was because he left me a note to come see him. It was probably about the ‘advisee homework’, I guess. He sent us a questionnaire that was loaded with a bunch of goddam phony questions. And I barely answered any.

           “Have a sit”. He said it without giving a glance at me. I sat down. And he never said anything. They do it if they want you to know that you’re in a trouble. He was typing something as if I weren’t in the goddam office at all, but I guess he was probably glancing me through the corner of his crazy eyes. To make sure that I was nervous and all.

I started to look around the office. Lots of old papers were stuck on the whiteboard. “Be the only one, not the best one.” and “Move their hearts, and Transform them”. Plus all those crazy sentences in Chinese characters. KMLA teachers are crazy about Chinese proverbs.

Why should I be someone special? I don’t mind if I had nothing special compared to the guys around me, if the guys were happy dudes who were nice enough to get along with. I won’t bother to transform anybody if they were already happy by themselves. The thing I guess I’ll probably do is just playing the goddam Frisbee.

           He finally opened his mouth. After a long, long lecture about how I should live the life wisely and set a clear goal to apply myself, he said, “Life is a game. You have to play it like a pro.”

           That killed me. God, he said it like thousand times since February. I don’t want to play anything like a pro. I don’t care if nobody was giving me the money or the goddam college acceptance letter for what I was doing. I’ll throw the goddam drumstick away whenever I feel like it. There are some games that you don’t need to play like a pro. For example, you can never throw a Frisbee exactly as you planned. They wobble and twirl like crazy as they fly off. But it never really matters, because the other player will catch it no matter how you throw it. It doesn’t really matter even if the other player misses it. You can always have a good fun playing Frisbee.

There were never many happy dudes here at KMLA.

Life Is Good - Adaptation by Taehyun Kim

This adaptation illustrates KMLA version of Holden, who is more cynical and sarcastic. The essay is based on the very first scene where Holden is visiting Mr. Spencer.

     The weird story starts on the day I left KMLA. KMLA is a school in Hoengseong, Gangwondo. You've probably heard of it. They say it's famous. You've probably seen those damn booklets they send out here and there. If you see them, you mighta think my school's really in for raising future global leaders and all, but there nothing more than one or two hours of special lectures on leadership every year and that's all. There's nothing more about being a damn leader than in other schools in Korea. Maybe a two or three could make it, but they probably came to KMLA that way.

     I was walking down the hill, apart from those others who were having a Christmas party in the gym. The reason I wasn't up there was because I was on my way to say goodbye to Mr. Sung, the old physical education teacher. He lived in 가정관. I could leave without saying anything to him, but at least he was the one whom I liked the most in the school. That's because he didn't say boring stuffs like Jean Jacques Rousseau or capacitor in his class. He never did.

    I forgot to tell you about reason I was leaving here. I was leaving and never coming back. They kicked me out. I am to attend Wonju-high school from after the Christmas vacation, cause I received more than six F's on my subjects for two semesters in a row. The school'd given me those damn warnings after exams, but they gave me nothing more. They just said I was going to leave soon if I continued that way. Not that I had longed for their help and all, but I thought it was unfair. They probably thought me as a lousy problem-kid from the beginning and had waited to kick me out as soon as I qualified to be so. I was trying to feel some sorta goodbye, cause at least it was my school. But no special feeling swept across me, only the chilly winds.

    I urged my footsteps a bit more. It was getting cold. My roommate once said it makes him feel good when he runs down this byway. I suddenly remembered his words and thought of running, but gave up because I knew it would make me pant. I didn't like it, so I just walked until I reached the 가정관.

 
    I was standing in front of it in two minutes. It was gleaming dim lights. I stopped to ponder if I really wanted to visit Mr. Sung or not. But I thought I came down too far to go back without doing anything else, so I stepped inside the building. It was senile as old Mr. Sung. I went up the stairs and turned left on the corner to reach his room, 204. Nothing had changed from my last visit. That was when I broke one of his bow. He wasn't pleased at me, but he wasn't mad either. He just listened to my apology and let me go. That was another part of him that I liked. I wondered what he was going to say this time, if I told him I was leaving the school. Maybe he wouldn't say anything, just like the last time. Anyways, I knocked on his door.

Adaptation by Nuri

Intro: This adaptive essay is based on when Holden gets expelled from the school. This scene is ‘my’ last day in the dorm, in KMLA.

I don’t believe it, I just don’t. I mean if you had a schedule like mine in KMLA you should be expelled as well you know. I mean AP European History with AP Literature and on top of that Ms. Rene’s boring AP biology class for God’s sake. How could you expect a student to get straights A’s on a schedule like that? And now the school’s just sending me away because a bit of Ds and okay I admit one F came up on my report card. I don’t believe it, I just don’t.

This would be my third transfer so far. It’s not like I’m ostracized in school or anything. When I came from HAFL to KMLA I did so because I hated the guts of that old principal. I mean he literally forced us to play an instrument for a straight 3 hours every single week. I mean if you have clumsy hands like mine, you’re head just bounds to explode. And before that, well let’s just not talk about before that. Don’t really want to bring up bad memories you know.

Anyways, rather indifferent about my third transfer, I was sitting on my chair in my room; the chair that I’ll soon be giving to my roommate. He still has that wooden chair he’d been using since his sophomore year. I mean I just can’t stand wooden chairs. How can you sit on a wooden chair when there are leather chairs and softer chairs to sit on? I always went up to the cafeteria to study so he didn’t have to see me sitting on my leather chair. Sometimes when I came back after the second self study period, I could see my chair on his side of the room. Don’t really care, it’s his now.

I sat down, looking out the window to see Duckco mountain be covered with a thin layer of fog. But before I could even feel some aesthetic beauty my homate barged in. For God’s sake he can be a real nuisance you know. That Taehoon. Such a limp guy. I mean men should be firm you know. A few hardend muscles here and there, some boldness in his eyes, but Taehoon? You never seen a whiter skinnier whip than him. I’m not saying that he’s a bad guy or anyting. It’s just that he spueakes at you like a white mouse everytime he speaks, not to mention he leaves a trail of trash everywhere he goes.

It was funny that he was in the room at that time. The school was having a speech contest and I was the only one that was supposed to stay in the dormitory – or at least chose to. The others were probably entertaining themselves in the gym. Anyways that Taehoon barged in, this time squeaking about a girl he seemed to like. Again, what a limp; he should just go and talk to her instead of rambling on and on for God’s sake. While he did he kept on fidgding with his Kleenex he had. 

... (to be continued!)

Adaptation by Jane Jungmin Park

I (Synthie): A high school (Kumly’s Prep) junior who is so angry at the education system that she refuses to take any classes except for Chemistry

Mr. Liu: Kumly’s chemistry teacher whom Synthie considers as the only one that is not phony at Kumly’s

OT: Synthie’s roommate who flirts with anyone who is in her radar; even Seok, Synthie’s true love

Seok: Synthie’s past love; memory with Seok always makes Synthie smile; considered not phony by Synthie

Lete Junio: Synthie’s classmate who is a complete phony, in Synthie’s perspective

Some things are hard to remember. I’m thinking now of when OT got back from her date with Seok. I mean I can’t remember exactly what I was doing when I heard her goddam stupid footsteps coming down the corridor. I probably was still solving the AP Chemistry questions, but I swear I can’t remember. I was so damn worried, that’s why. When I really worry about something, I don’t just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don’t go; instead I go to Mr. Liu’s office. If you knew OT, you’d have been worried, too. I’d double dated with that bitch a couple of times, and I know what I’m talking about. She seemed to forget which one she was dating exactly. She really did.

Anyway, the doors were all made out of paper or something and all, and you could hear that huge bitch’s goddam footsteps coming right towards the room. I don’t even remember which problem I was solving when she came in- acid-base equilibria, titration or buffer solutions. I swear I can’t remember, even the number of moles of NaOH.

She came in griping about how cold it was out. Then she said, “Where the hell is everybody? It’s like a goddam morgue around here.” I didn’t even bother to answer her. If she was so goddam stupid not to realize it was Saturday night and everybody was out or asleep or home for the week end, I wasn’t going to break my neck telling her. She started getting undressed into her most basic clothes, as usual. She didn’t say one goddam word about Seok. Not one. Neither did I. I just watched her. All she did was thanking me for letting her wear my pink-white gorgeous uniform. She hung it up on a hanger and pit it on the closet as if nothing special had happened.

Adaptation by Jin Yong Kim

This is a writing written in the voice of Holden in the Catcher in the Rye. It is the Independence Day, and people from the Blue House came to school to give a speech.



     It was the Independence Day and all. These people from the Blue House were supposed to come to our school to give us a lecture about the goddam national defense. National defense…what a phony word, I thought. Our school was supposed to be this place where future leaders are raised by special programs. And so as a part of the program, the school often invited renowned people to come over and give a speech. Visits by those people were supposed to be secret and all, but this news about people from the Blue House coming spread way before they came. The Blue House… It killed me.
     Normally today is a legal holiday, but since our school never cares a damn about the law, or practically anything that the government demands, we had to go to school. We huddled up in the auditorium to listen to what the dude at the Blue House had to say. When I went to the auditorium, this dull-looking guy was staring at us all. He reminded me of ‘Scream’ by Edvard Munch. No kidding. He had this damn depressing look on his face. The sheer look on his face seemed to drain all the happiness out from me. I know it sounds mean, but I don’t mean it mean. I mean if you were sitting there in the auditorium with this damn depressing guy right in front of your face, you would say the same thing.
      “Hello Fellows,” He started off with usual greetings. “It’s honor to speak in front of you all. The reason I’m here is to give you a basic idea about our country’s national defense.”
      Now I won’t go jabbering about what he said after that-‘cause it was already damn harsh for me to sit there simply listening to that phony bastard. He was talking about how leaders like us should get more interested in national defense, and that man should fully accomplish their duties in the military.
     Just at the moment, the girl who sat right in front of me farted damn loud. We couldn’t laugh hard because the principal was glaring at us-but anyway that really cut his speech. The Blue House bastard was giving this phony smile to the girl-but I knew he was making that face just to look nice. I kept my goddam fingers crossed for another fart, but no one was brave enough to get extra interest from the principal.

Adaptation by Flora Minjung Park

Title:  The Catcher In the Rye Adaptation
Type: Reading Class Writing
Korean Minjok Leadership Academy

2012. 05. 23 11b3 111049 Flora Minjung Park

     Introduction:  This is an adaptation of three chapters (3, 4, and 5) of the original text, though the main characters and a bit of the characteristics of them are changed. Rather than sticking to the original characters, I thought that having a different character in the same scene might twist the story differently, and so I couldn't resist the temptation to make a fresh twist. I used bits of the traits of the characters in the English drama "Skins" - which shows the life of spoiled teens - especially Effy, an attractive but mischievous and chic girl. To briefly explain, Effy isn't really a girl that looses fencing instruments or does homework instead of her roommate like Holden. Holden is a troublemaker, but sometimes he shows weaknesses or envy to his handsome roommate, but Effy is the opposite - everyone thinks she is cool and pretty, and boys would love to date out with her or possibly "give her time" in a baseball coach's car. She's rather strong, instead. Still, Effy is also pessimistic and full of anger towards society, like Holden, which derives the plot of the story to be quite interesting. Enjoy!

*          *          *

     I was sitting on my bed when Anne was wearing make-up in front of my mirror. She was sort of getting the hang of it now, but never just right. Damn it. When the hell is she ever going to get my make-up tips. I still had my make-up on, so I thought I'd stand next to her and watch her try to make a fool out of herself in those hilarious make-up and erase my own.

      My roomie, Anne, was a typical "slob". Not that she looks bad and all. Shes a slob in her personal habits. She always looked alright, Anne, but for instance, you should've seen her closet. It was always messed up - clothes, socks, and all; she never distinguishes her clean clothes and the ones she's been wearing days. For god sake, I don't think she even cleans her clothes for most of the time anyway. Her socks and crap usually were scattered around the room - "our" room - and her garbage was everywhere. Most of the time she doesn't even wear her own damn clothes - she borrows mine when going out with her yucky idiot date.

     "Oh Effy please please can I borrow this skirt?"

     "Effy, can I please try this on? I meet Edward today."

     Whatever. I'm tired of people telling me I'm cool and pretty. I'm tired of my damn roommate trying to try on things that don't even fit her just because she thinks it's cool because "I" wore it. I don't really care I guess, since I can't really help being cool and Anne isn't the only one that envies me, but I do have my limits -especially when I'm dealing with a slob like my roommate. Boy, her boyfriend looked like one of those big balloons you see in front of a newly opened store along the streets. Disgusting. Absolutely. Anyways, she doesn't even clean my clothes when returning them, what a slob she is. She always looks decent when she finished fixing herself, compared to what damn idiot she is and looks like "before" borrowing "my" perfume, "my" clothes, and "my" accessories.

     "Hey," Anne said. "Wanna do me a big favor?"
     "......."
     "I have this essay homework about writing about a room to describe, can you please write it for me? I'll appreciate it loads if you help."
     "........"

     "I'm the one that's flunking out of the goddamn place and you're asking me to write you a goddamn composition," I said. It was very ironical. It really was.
     "Yeah, I know. But still, I thought that we were friends. Be a buddy. Be a buddyroo. Okay?"


     Now that sounded ridiculous.
     "Do  I look like an easy person to lay off your favors on?" I replied.

     Half mad I was. She was always asking you to do her a big favor. She has this fantasy that she's the coolest girl in school, except me - who she admires. She thinks everyone is "crazy" about her. Goddamn it. She even considers me a "friend". Just because shes crazy about herself, she thinks you're crazy about her, too, and that I'm just dying to do them a favor. It's sort of funny, in a way.

    "Well, no" She replied, half scared - shown all in her face.

    "Then goddamn it, will you please fuck off"
     ".....Sure Effy."


    She looked pretty hurt, but why should I care. She scooted out of the room to see her disgusting boyfriend, and I was left alone in the room. All was silent. It was a good silence, unlike the damn noise outside of school in the streets. Nothing outside really is suitable for living, I think. Not that this school is perfect, either. Horrible place to be. I'm pretty glad that I lay my feet of this damn place tomorrow. Absolutely.

     I'm not pretty good in scores. Ain't good in other stuff, either, but scores the worst. There was this lousy teacher Garrioch that gave me straight A's in essays in writing composition, but the rests are all C's or F's. I mean, I'm not going to be a goddamn doctor or a philosopher or a scholar or anything anyway. What the matter for scores. Don't care, but still. I'm not that much of an excellent student cause I sleep half of my classes, and spend the other half smoking or playing outside of school. Test scores are okay, teachers say - of course because their expectations are goddamn low - but they fail me anyway. Fucked up school, I say. What they speak and what the scores speak are always different. Absolutely.

     Anyway, I decided to help the slob's homework anyway. Last day mind refreshing-wise, I thought it was worth a go. Besides, I kinda liked the Garrioch dude, not because he gave me good scores, but it was one of the classes worth taking. Free and fun - unlike that goddamn society outside. But the thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the way Anne said she had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses anyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Andrew's cup that he made when he went to a trip to Turkey. It was a very descriptive  subject. It really was. He had this handed cup - or sort of something like a mug, I guess. He was left-handed. The things that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had signatures of celebrities that he met written all over the grip and bottom and everywhere. In green ink. He's dead now, but he was terrifically intelligent. Teachers always told mom about what a pleasure it was having a boy like him in their class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. He was nice, too, and never got mad at people very easily.

     Anyway, that's what I wrote Anne's composition about. Old Andrew's mug. I happened to have it with me, in my suitcase, so I got it out and copied down some signatures written on it. All I had to do was change his name so that nobody would know it was my brother and not Anne's. I wasn't too crazy about doing it, but I couldn't thinking of anything else descriptive. Besides, I sort of liked writing about it. It took me about an hour, because I had to use Anne's lousy typewriter, and it kept jamming on me. The reason I didn't use my own was because I already threw it at an annoying guy called Stanley.

     It was around twelve, I guess, when I finished it. I wasn't tired, though, so I looked out the window for a while. It wasn't snowing out any more, but every once in a while you could hear a car somewhere not being able to get started.

    'Last night here,' I thought. 

     Absolutely. Last night.

    Finally, out of this goddamn place. Finally.

"J for Judith" by Jiyoon Rhee

J for Judith

Judith and the narrator are students in KMLA. The narrator does not like Judith and suspects her as a thief. However, nobody except the narrator dares to suspect her. This is not from certain chapters of the book Catcher in the Rye, but I wanted to reflect my own experience and view it in a way that Holden sees the world.

     Judith was sitting in front of me. It was a mistake that I sat in the seat. I had totally forgotten about Judith’s favorite seat. It was such a hard time for me because I had to see her bulky back every time I tried to look at the clock. What was more annoying was that I could not go to the damn restroom for whole 2 hours of self-studying period. That girl—Judith—is a thief, and I know so well about her “crimes”. How could I leave my stuffs alone in the studying hall when Judith was sitting right in front of me?

     I have never told anybody about Judith’s crimes. If I ever did, Judith would eventually find out that I have done so, and bully me until I graduate and all. I am serious. I really am. She had been always like that. Who she does not like becomes every girl’s enemy in couple of days. She had her own power of persuasion.

All the crazy things always happen around her. Her explanation about the craziness was absurd and lame. What was even more interesting was that nobody figured out the damn clear fact. If you think about all the incidents, you can easily find out how Judith had created all the disturbances of my school. People are never caring about other people. Many pretend to be. However, they are not interested in other people’s business. What they are really interested is that there might be a bitter impact on them when people around them get in troubles. Most of people are phony. Most people in this school are phony.

     I could not concentrate because of Judith’s presence. She was not doing anything strange or suspicious. Actually, she was studying very hard. Her brown hair was clipped with an enormous hairpin, and she was sticking her nose onto her Calculus book. She liked to put on damn make-ups and spending bunch of time doing her hair. It is crazy that she wakes up in the morning at 5 o’clock and spends two hours of preparation and make-ups. What was more urgent for her is to get on a diet and to get rid of her damn broad hips. She walked like a model with her red skinny jeans, her big butts moving left and right.

I stared at her, without noticing it, and she turned around. Maybe she had felt something, and I pretended that I was looking at a clock. Judith smiled at me with strange confidence. She thought that I was looking at her bleached cheap brown hair because I had a crush on her or something. That smile killed me.

     I know how that girl had done many things that are cruel and inhumane. Small and big things disappear around her. From small things such as pens and hair-laces and to big things such as iPods and wallets.

     Then, I heard a sound of footsteps. Eunice was walking between the tables of the study hall. Eunice came to Judith, and started whispering and giggling about something. Eunice is the kind of girl who never gets mad at anybody. It drives me crazy when a girl like Eunice hangs out with a bastard like Judith. Judith is never mean to Eunice. She knows how to cope with girls and attract them to her side and all. Phony.