Sadness and Stress (the happiest post in the world)

I was in the middle of writing a blog post on Sunday when I received the news that my beautiful cat Freddie had suddenly died. I would like to say I held it together but truth be told I was devastated. Freddie was lovely and I was very attached to him from the moment we brought him home six years ago. He was so much smaller than his brother and didn't even know how to drink milk properly at first. He was such a curious and sociable cat and would often follow me wherever I went round the house. While I've been at home recently he watched me play on the Wii a lot, his head going back and forwards, trying to figure out what on earth I was doing. I never once saw him remotely angry or vicious (except of course when he brought in mice).
He was found under a neighbours garden bench, and just looked asleep.
I know he was just a cat, but he was my cat and I loved him. He will be truly missed and the Rock house won't be the same without him.

Anyway, that's that. This is what I was writing before about my new job:


A combination of spoilt children brought up by maids and lack of organisation in the school, meant that on my first day I stepped into a classroom that was worse than any I have experienced before (that's right SEV people, they were in fact worse than aloysius). The principal's warning that morning that I should be strict, in no way prepared me for the running on the tables, the water fights, the actual fights and the screaming and shouting that were pretty much constant through my first and second day. I know I'm not the toughest person in the world and I don't claim to know everything about classroom management, but I really did try. When you've been given no reward or discipline system, however, and no pencils, paper or even teachers desk, it is basically impossible. I asked the principal if I could send students down to her office if necessary, to which she just laughed and said, "no we don't do that here." So what then? Eventually, after a few instances of taking children by the arm and hurling them out of the room (not my proudest educational moments) I finally found someone to call on in times of crisis. A non-English speaking intern who by goodness knows how to shout. By the end of the week, just the threat of bringing her in was enough to make most of the boys at least sit down, if not be quiet.
One week in, I think I'm going to be OK. Yes, the boys are still naughty and loud and one in particular is completely defiant and refuses to do anything- he lay on the floor, plumping up other people's bags to use as pillows in my last class- but they are also really sweet and hilarious. And it's amazing how a seven year old can be bought with the promise of a smiley face stamp on their hand.
And tomorrow, after I introduce the magical all controlling star chart, my students will finally be powerless to resist my rule. hahahahahahaahaha (evil laugh).


I can now tell you, after my second week, that things are getting there slowly. My star chart is up and running and I've also been to talk to the big bosses to vent my issues. They've agreed to give me a learning support assistant, so things are looking up!

One Shade of Black

Hmm where to start.... Probably in a place that isn't too overt and at risk of getting me thrown in prison. Joke! Or is it? Who knows.

Highlights so far have been as follows:
1. Being with Lee again (aww)
2. The vast selection of chocolate (sorry Korea, but what you have to offer chocolate-wise is truly pitiful)
3. The people we live with.

And now for the low lights, which I don't think I could simply list. I guess I'm just struggling to get to grips with things I already knew. It's not like I wasn't warned, but still, it's quite a shock to experience for real. 
On my first day, a man who didn't even acknowledge me came to pick me up to take me to the admin building. Madly trying to keep my ever slipping headscarf in place, I walked into a huge office, everyone averting their eyes as I walked past. I then sat, almost ignored, for an hour and a half while the men 'sorted' some of my work stuff out.
After that I was whisked away to the school, where I had to just walk in and introduce myself, as no one was expecting me. When I left home I was unaware that I would be going to school so I didn't have the regulation long black skirt on, meaning I was stuck wearing my abaya for the rest of the day. After a brief five minute introduction, the headteacher opened a classroom door to reveal a room full of kids running wild, and actually said the words 'would you like to start now?,' to which I replied a hasty 'no'  (adding a 'hell' before it in my head). I was then deposited in the staff room to talk to people who were too stressed to talk to me.
 After finding out that the students don't have all the books they need and that the school are understaffed and therefore I have to teach 6 of 7 lessons from the first day, I then had to wait ages for someone to sort out a driver for me to get home. When I finally did get back I was pretty much a wreck.

My hopes that maybe the kids would be nice and make it all worth while were sadly crushed the very next day when I started for real. But that, my friends, is a story for another time...


Ps dont worry too much because things have vastly improved already-I can't imagine what this post would've said if I'd written it yesterday or the day before! 

 

Down the Rabbit Hole

Week two done, and I’m still alive, just about. Sometime this week-around Wednesday I believe, I had a little mini breakdown due to over work, but all is ok now! The rollercoaster continues and is definitely a bumpy ride.
I would like to quote something from 'Chicken Soup for the Soul,' a book which more often than not makes me want to puke on it rather than being inspired to live life to the full. But anyway, this I rather liked:
When your ‘there’ has become a ‘here,’ you will simply obtain another ‘there’ that will again look better than ‘here.’ 
And so, in light of trying desperately not to wish away these four weeks and to enjoy the moment, I have endeavored to remember, and now relay to you, a couple of memorable parts from the last seven days.
The hotel that houses the course is run by a crusty old English man named Clarence who has a far-too-young-for-my-liking Thai wife. I knew old Clarence was trouble on the very first day we met him, when he announced that the bar 'closes at 10.30pm and after that we expect quiet.' On Friday night, after a grueling week, the ten of us with a desperate need to blow off steam, were ordered to leave the bar at the grand hour of eleven, and to go up to the tree house area near our rooms instead. So we did. But no more than five minutes later, we were told to leave the tree house too, by a girl who is also staying in the hotel, because she 'had work in the morning.' Seriously?  
So we went back to the bar where we were soon met by the dreaded Clarence. Lee, always up for a heated debate/argument, stepped up as spokesman to relay the opinion of the downtrodden masses. The conversation quickly deteriorated, culminating in Clarence calling Lee a 'self-centred foreigner.' To this, Lee, as anyone who knows him could predict, told old Clarence to f*ck off, and stormed out.
The episode got me thinking. Does Clarence have a point? Are we self-centred for needing to relax after a week on a CELTA course, in a place where there is nowhere else to go? In my mind the answer is firmly NO. Firstly, isn’t it a bit rich to call someone else a foreigner, when you yourself are a posh old white man? I'm not sure that you can ever get away with that, no matter how long you’ve lived in a country. And anyway, who is he to judge us- people who he had never even talked to before except to take 1000Baht each off us as a surprise room key deposit. But what interests me the most is how he could be so hypocritical. Hello, Mr Thai wife…? Talk about using your birth place and therefore bank balance as a bargaining chip to get what you want in a less developed country. The icing on the cake came later when I found out that this is in fact Clarence's third wife. That's right. Lovely.  
Last night we all went out for dinner, and were highly amused to find ourselves at the much loved 'Pauline and Mr. Chan's Pizza' restaurant. Man there's gotta be a story behind how a middle aged British woman from the 'Birds of a Feather' era and an oriental kung fu master got together, moved to Thailand and opened a pizzeria. We couldn't help but wonder if Pauline was Clarence's first wife…
And finally, a couple of poems from the past week (keeping the spirit alive Stephen!) that aptly encapsulate how I feel right now.

The game we play
is let’s pretend
and pretend
we’re not pretending
we choose to
forget
who we are
and then forget
that we’ve
forgotten
who are we really? 
                        From Response/Ability by Bernard Gunther

'Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
and the mome raths outgrabe.   
                        From The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll  

The dreaded C-E-L-T-A

It really is amazing how much you can squeeze in to a week if you really try. Here I am, 1 week into my CELTA, aka a quarter of the way through, and it’s hard to believe exactly how much work I’ve done as well as how up and down I’ve felt emotionally.
Here, in a nutshell (because I have to get on with a lesson plan) are my CELTA highlights and lowlights so far:
I particularly enjoyed the first class we observed before we started our own teaching practice. I don’t think I will ever experience again someone teaching ‘dandy’ as a legitimate response to ‘how are you?’ I dread to think the trouble these unwitting Thai students could get in if they went to Coventry and tried to use it.  I mean, I understand the reason for introducing slang, but seriously?
I was absolutely terrified the night before my first lesson. I don’t think I could’ve slept for more than three hours, but then the next day I was so exhausted with being nervous, that I somehow felt a bit better. Lee likened the lead up to the teaching to how it feels before you go on stage, coupled with the elation you feel afterwards.
My first class went alright; I had to teach types of clothes, my favourite part being ‘underwear,’ which the students all assured me they never wear to a football match. Never? I know Thai’s are different to us, but that’s a bit extreme. I set an activity to decide if items of clothing should use a/an or ‘a pair of’ before them. My explanation was that we use ‘a pair of’ due to there being two trouser legs, two lenses in your glasses, etc. This led to an interesting conversation between two male students over whether it is ‘a pair of bras’….
Class number two was slightly less nerve racking, but not by much. The highlight of this class was the resident monk writing ‘pray’ as one of his hobbies on his worksheet. I’m not too sure God sees it like that, but whatever.
The lessons where we are the students have been grueling, but interesting at the same time. We all had to write on the board one reason why lesson plans are good. Lee was last and most things had already been written, leading him to add ‘because they look pretty’ to the list of answers.  I wonder if I’ll pass if I just decorate my plans with flowers and stuff around the borders.
On a lowlight note, I truly had no idea how intense this course is. I can go from happy to desperate in a matter of minutes, and I actually nearly cried in one of my planning sessions with the tutor. But at least I didn't actually cry I suppose.
Well that’s it from me: I’m far too busy and exhausted to think of anything else to say. Tune in next week to see if I’m still sane!