F1?!

Kid you not, but I think I can hear the cars revving up from my home... I am hoping it is somebody's television...

Lessons

I do realise that I am blogging a lot about my sad life as a tutor, but please bear with me...

Lesson #1

Student (muttering indistinctly): oliveristerrible...

Me: What?

Student (giggling slightly embarrassedly): Oh, I got this classmate call Oliver. Because it rhymes with terrible, he called Oliver is so terrible.

(pause)

Me: But Oliver doesn't rhyme with terrible... (tries it out) oliver...terrible...
(nope. there's the 'l' which gives 'terrible' a lilt at the end that 'oliver' doesn't have.)

Me: Umm. It might be a very weak rhyme. It doesn't rhyme at all, unless you say "terrible" as "terriber", and even then...

Student (quickly): Oh, My classmates's english is lousy one. When teacher is explaining in class, all they do is talk and laugh.

Me (seizing oppourtunity, adds sanctimoniously): Aha! See! If you all had been paying attention, you all would be able to rhyme properly.

Lesson #2

A conversation sometime ago. Heavily edited by scabbed memory.

Me: But why do you always wear black?

Morphie: **********

Me: Is your cupboard full of clothes that's black?

Morphie: **********

Me: Boring. (Quickly realises that is not a question) Umm. Do you like black?

Morphie: **********

Me (is quickly exhausted): You know. There was a point to me asking all those questions.

Morphie: And that is...?

Me: Er... I was attempting to conduct an experiment a lecturer said we should try, and that is to answer a question with another question.

Morphie: You don't have to. You already do that all the time.

Lesson #3

Me: And so, let me tell you, children nowdays are incredibly gossipy and irritating. And its not even the girls.

B: What happened?

Me: The irritating kaypoh kid, and a boy mind you, asked me if why I was dressed so nicely in a floral blouse. I remembered ignoring him, and the twit went on to ask me if I was meeting my boyfriend. I ignored him and went to write something on the board, and he asked me if I was going to a candle-lit dinner. I said dryly that it was a little too early for dinner as it wasn't even 3 in the afternoon then. He then asked me if I was going out to study and I replied that I was going home after tuition. Let me repeat. Children are full of obnoxious questions.

B: But that's because you didn't answer his first question. He'll stop if you just explained why you wore what you were wearing.

Me: Oh yeah...
(To be honest, I hadn't even thought I was even dressed that nicely... But on helpful advice and hindsight, if I had chosen to point out that I didn't think I was dressed that nicely, I might have had an easier time that day in class.)

Further Proof that the World is some kind of joke.

First the laksa,
Then the Shoe.

And to add to the seemingly unending list of surreal moments in the land of tuition:

Today, I was making a sweep down the aisles to ensure that the kids were all copying their homework as dutifully as they should be when I caught my boss waving and beaming cheerfully at me through the glass window in the door. I beamed back and gave a slight wave, and because I had reached the end of the class, I made a turn back to the board to write the explanation for the next question. On turning back, I discovered my boss opening the door, "Oh sorry, excuse me. Can I talk to you?"
... ... ...
Oh.

Wedding Furore

After hearing my alarm go off early for my jog, I determinedly ignored my conscience and went back to bed - which was just as well as it started pouring minutes later. My slight guilt resolved, I had just snuggled comfortably into my blanket when minutes later, a car horn sounded loudly. I ignored that. If you live next to a carpark, you get used pretty soon to the sounds of motocycles firing up, speed demons raring about (occasionally), school buses looming in and of cause, car honking.

This morning was different.
First, one car honked, then followed by another and then another in a rising crescendo. I stumbled out, not as blearily as I would have liked, which shows how futile my snooze had been, and went to the window, convinced that some large vehicle like a lorry or van must be blocking the only exit/entrance to the carpark. Of course it wasn't. There was a wedding SUV parked outside the lift entrance to my block, and I knew then which twits had been the cause of my less than tranquil time in bed.

Muttering to myself, and still wrapped in my blanket, I stalked out of the room, slightly amused and rather annoyed. A quick glance at the other bed in the room indicated that my sister was apathetic to all noises and still asleep - I suspected on purpose.

And, so, grumbling about how the groom and gang was likely still high from their stag party, I went to the kitchen and found my mom at the window there. I joined her there and being busybodies, began commenting on their choice of wedding carriage, flowers, colour scheme etc. For the record, the SUV was silver, and bundled in white flowers on white ribbon. Apparently, the wedding planner had anticpated well in advance the uncooperative weather (more fit for a funeral) and the wedding entourage were sheltered from the elements by a matching pair of large black and white umbrellas and several smaller blue ones. Additionally, the men were all, as I noted with a snort, togged in palish pink-lavender shirts. Pants were black; they were clearly not that insane yet.

All normal so far, and I couldn't help but make snide comments about how men were generally idiots. My dad on the other hand, as the only male in the house and a misanthrope, was making his usual cynical comments that the bride was likely from China. I doubted it very much. Firstly, it wouldn't be the bride's fault, as she is the one waiting for her groom to appear, and such failure to abide by the usual custom seemed more the work of a contemporary Singaporean. Secondly, my dad tended to blame anything and everything on either the Government or China. My theory was that these lot had probably in their life up til then been part of some wretched well-meaning if ridiculous student council for them to commence with the further stupidity that would come next:

They got into their cars (I make that about 5 or 6) and getting into line with the wedding car in front, began a roundabout round the rubbish dump next to my block, honking for their worth and I suspect, grinning inanely at the cameraman, who squatted in the middle of the road to take their pictures. Then, abruptly, when the honking had reached its zenith, somebody in the block, to my right and downwards suddenly yelled in what appeared to be either a sleepy or drunken slur, "You B******! ASS****! Damn F****** P****S!" My dad, who has a puritan mindset worthy of the Aunts of the Victorian period, triumphantly uttered, "They deserve it! Probably from China!" The wedding entourage, which had still been attempting the slow roundabout came to a standstill, and the honking stopped. The rude yelling went on, and one could almost sense the wedding party wilting from the searing criticism they were receiving.

The sort amusement which I had not been enjoying in a while was wiped away in an instant both by the yelling jerk and my dad's comments. My mom replied by saying he was an unfeeling person, and while we both agreed that 6 cars honking early on a Saturday morning was a bit much, the wedding didn't deserved to be cursed and swore at. Someone could have just yelled, "Stop honking!" or "Quiet!" instead of all that. What could have been a funny early morning spectacle ended up being dampened by someone who clearly took life too seriously.

Then, of course, being that sort of family, the topic jumped from a vehicle of one sort to another, which is of the F1 variety. My dad still complained about the Government, I ended up on the opposite side and defended its decision to host the race... and such is one morning flown by even though I had wanted to work on my essay...

Free Rice

Do a good cause today!

Improve your grammar and vocab and donate rice!

Absurdia

And so... in a not so typical day at class... I ended up mending my student's slipper in class while issuing threats now and then from my precarious perch on the swivel chair. I had offered to give a call to his mother so that she can fetch him something to walk home with, but he didn't want me to, and insisted on trying to fix in class himself. The thing is: I could 1) let him waste 1.5 hrs on futile shoe-fixing and not do any proper work, or 2) shoe had to be fixed by someone other than him so that he can get some work done
Guess who. Still I am quite proud of that fixed slipper. Especially when I only had scotch tape to work with and it being impossible to tell little boys to work slowly or not yank on the slipper after it being taped.

Right. Tis one week after another.

The Book Post: Covers that suck

In any case, I feel slightly vindicated by this new cover from HarperCollins (which sucks by the way) as it proves my theory that the tiny little blob of the moving castle on this cover is a homage to the Miyazaki design from the movie. As I indulge further in more theorizing, the chicken feet castle from the film clearly has its roots not in Jones' description (since the book version of the castle lacks any form of limb-like appendages) but in a rather terrifying folk story personality from Russia; a witch known as Baba Yaga, and whose house has a pair of bird-feet to move around about. Her preferred method of transportation however, seems to be a flying mortar and pestle (if I did not remember wrongly). Goodness knows why Miyazaki modelled the castle on this, but nevermind...

What I really wanted to do was point out how the covers of Diana Wynne Jones' books seem to be getting from bad to worse. It's no wonder if children nowadays don't read her books. The same can be said for the Penguin covers of the Artemis Fowl series, which can be succinctly surmised as they think it is snazzy but is really ugly.

Meeting Point

Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs)
Time was away and somewhere else.

And they were neither up nor down;
The stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.

The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise -
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.

The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.
Time was away and somewhere else.

The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.

Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.

God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body's peace
God or whatever means the Good.

Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.

-- Louis MacNeice

This is a lovely piece of poetry. Makes me wish I was taking Irish Poetry class. Hopefully, there will be next semester.