Visions of Seoul IV

I'm letting my students take a break, having just completed a marathon half-hour of today's SAT Critical Reading test, with a good 50 minutes yet remaining in this afternoon section. I sit on the front-right-side of the classroom, in a curved-back chair of wood and metal situated under the wall-mounted whiteboard; staring off, doing mental calculations, auditing the figures on my upcoming pay stub.

Students chatter away to my left. A girl sits in the back toying idly with her mobile phone (a common sight in these Korean classrooms, during break as well as, more stealthily, during class time), while the boys play some sort of Korean game that involves slapping each others' forearms with two tightly-held fingers, flicking foreheads, or some other such typically Korean punitive measure.

The group of four girls sitting closest to me talks in quick, amused-sounding syllables; while I can't understand their content, the context - of high school students' relaxation - is universal. Two of them turn to me, and it registers to me that they're speaking English:
"Teacher Jason, I have a question."

Sure, go ahead. (I'm always eager to instruct)

"Do you know any of our names?"

No.