Saturday, Valentine's Day to be more specific, heralds the beginning of a two week vacation for me and my colleagues. Rather than stick around "Dodge," I decided to take matters into my own hands and use this fine opportunity to do a bit of European voyaging.
So I'm going to visit a friend in London for a week, and then head over to the Emerald Isle for a few days of solo expedition in County Clare. Three days of uninterrupted tramping through the rain - quietly - while trying not to fall off the Cliffs of Moher. I literally cannot wait. Then to Dublin for a few days, to visit a friend at Trinity, and back to London to catch my flight back here. Two weeks of English. Two weeks of mental rest. Recuperating self-esteem. Glorious.
A funny anecdote:
Yesterday, as I do every Tuesday afternoon, I had my worst class: CE 1 + 2 at École G. For those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the terminology, this means the kids are between the ages of 6-8. They are terrible. Always. Between the fight that broke out months ago (see "Luchadoritos") and the constant bickering they spawn, the two drama queens, Jeanne and Camille, the disturbingly large number of rowdy boys... It's terrible. Always. Every time I walk into their classroom, I brace myself not for teaching them English but for the 45 minutes of babysitting torture I face. Anyway.
Their teacher - we'll call her M. - might dislike them more than I do. Despite my active hostility regarding this group of kids, this fact still manages to surprise me. I've found that many teachers I work with are very protective / defensive / emotionally attached to their hell hounds. When I very casually complained about a kid to her teacher several months ago [one of M.'s colleagues], he agreed that yes, she was a "chatterbox" but clearly took offense that I had pointed that out. I was puzzled, but kind of charmed by his defensiveness. He cares. That's kind of sweet.
Well, M. doesn't care. She doesn't give a shit. Any shit. Every Tuesday afternoon when she reenters the classroom and they pretend to settle down at the sight of her, we have the same conversation: (translated for your ease and mine.)
M: How was it?
A: It was... okay.
M: They're terrible. I know.
A: [awkward silence.]
M: Who got in trouble today?
[before I can answer, she walks over to my list of "naughty students" to see whom I've marked. If they get three marks they are out of the class. Permanently. Yesterday I added a new kid to the list.]
M: Nice going, [insert students' names here.] You remember if you get one mark, you get a punishment. Two marks, double that punishment, signed by your parents. Three marks and you spend the rest of the year sitting with me writing lines.
[kids look at each other uncomfortably and some say "yes. We remember."]
M: Every Tuesday afternoon is the same. It's fatiguing. Joanna is not here to give you punishments. She is here to teach you to speak English. She is a native speaker and you are wasting her talent. This is ridiculous.
A: [I cross my arms, standing next to her, and try to look as mean as possible. I usually only manage "uncomfortable" and "frustrated."]
Yesterday the conversation deviated. Much to my shock, further discomfort, and guilty amusement:
M: You all know that vacation is coming up soon. I am so very excited to spend fifteen days without you and your absurdity. And you know what? Joanna is equally excited. Two weeks without you - we are celebrating.
A: [I tried to retain composure. She said this like she was commenting on the weather.]
M: So what do you say to Joanna?
Hell Hounds: "Goodbye! See you on Friday."
A: err... Goodbye. See you Friday. [I walk quickly to the door. M follows me, still in the classroom, talking through the open door.]
M: [in normally loud voice] I am very sorry. I'm ashamed of them. They're terrible. With me too. Truly.
A: It's not your fault.
M: I know, but still.
A: [nervous smile.] Well, have a good day.
M: Vivent les vacances! See you Thursday.
Ummm... If it werent' seared into my brain cabinet of "holy shit did that really just happen," I probably wouldn't believe a teacher could be that mean to her students. They are truly truly awful kids, as a collective. But damn. BRUTAL. Do kids recover from years of battering insults? I don't know. Hmm.
Thoughts?
1 comment:
Totally. That kind of brutality is generalized -- it sounds like it's not directed at any student in particular most of the time. I think kids shrug that sort of thing off pretty easily.
Her line about "we are celebrating" was incredible. I laughed so hard I may have woken my flatmates. (Okay, not really. But I did laugh aloud.)
Vivent les vacances!
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