Note 2 Self

I swear children write the weirdest things when asked to write about being marooned on a deserted island. Apart from the gun containing mysteriously infinite number of bullets, there is also the remarkable use of the word "pierce" for everything from the worm on a short branch for fish bait to caught fish on a sharp branch to two sticks pierced into the ground. And don't get me started on what glass was used to pierce in the jewellery store epic.

So what note is this? This note is to remind myself never ever to give this scenario as a prompt again. It gets them all dramatic and boy-scoutish. From this one composition alone, I learn that it is possible to distill pure water from seawater using only two leaves and the flaming afternoon sun...

Work, which is weird

You know you are a teacher when your student comes up and insists that you are old-fashioned. Even when you tell them that the reason one does not wear miniskirts is simply because one does not want to benefit (or rather give eyesores) the person two steps below you. I'm practical, you know. But don't get me wrong, I think miniskirts are very pretty. I can see why people might wear them, given the right place and time But class is not one of them... especially when you're the one doing the teaching... Jeez. But it won't do for me to shed my less than cool image anyway - not that the kids will believe it any more than I want to be er - cool even if I think my translucent blouse is pretty exciting. *sulk* Stupid D. (another kid) called it a night gown. I've, it seems, somehow managed to build myself into a certain breed of teacher. Which is sort of good. One day I'll go to class in a spaghetti top and leather skirt...

And then she (not D) tells me: If you were the same age as me, we'll be friends. This, coming from a twelve-year old girl is... I think it was some kind of moment.

Later on, I spot a "Signor Sauer" complete with fake series number in the hand of a robber which has recently used it to blast the brains out of some hapless sales person in her compo. I end up snorting with laughter. Somebody has been reading Artemis Fowl...

In case anyone is wondering, no it's not a Signor Sauer, it's a Sig Sauer...

A couple of things

Children are morbid.

"The old lady had fractured her arms and legs. But she is fine."

Will all the forces of everything good and pure tell me how to mark this in compositions?

Unbelievably, I am going to say the following:

Avatar, in spite of being obviously and disgustingly overhyped, is actually worth your 6 bucks (if you're a student). I have it on good authority, trust me.

The meaning of happy

I love the view from up here, it is _____________.

1) pretty as a picture

2) gay as a lark

3) pleasant as a wind breeze (or obvious equivalent)

4) I forgot what but you get the sense of what is being asked.

Ask children what "gay as a lark" means and all I get are delighted smiles. Thank you, twentieth century for producing such a happy alternative meaning to the word. 

Note: The answer is 1)

UPDATE: And did I mention? I have to teach them cheesy composition phrases like "as eager as a bridegroom". And everyone knows what it is that the bridegroom is really getting excited about.

Anecdote for Educators

O dearest, dearest boy! my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the hundredth part
Of what from thee I learn.

-- W. Wordsworth

Ah, Wordsworth. What were you thinking? Much as you love your son and children in general, I cannot say the same.

I was teaching my tuition class as per usual on Saturday when I encountered my first crying new student who refused to enter my den. As expected, my class wanted to know why I kept disappearing outside after they'd caught wind of a rumour that they would be having a new classmate and they all trooped outside to gawk as me and L attempted to persuade her to join the class.

Attempt #first and last went down like a lead balloon.
I had gotten the class to all give her a very warm welcome by simulataneously saying hello and waving as she walked in, but all she did was shrink back. (mouse! mouse!)
Shit! Shit! I mentally cursed and went back outside to try and placate her while being tailed by multiple monkeys.

L suggested that I go back and try and teach something because I did afterall, have 9 other kiddies to supervise and I agreed. Back in the classroom, no, den, I was faced with wretched hobbit-height terrors running amok. "Teacher, teacher!" some of them shouted. (And for pity's sake, I am not Miss Long) "Why is she crying?"

"Well, she's scared because this is the first time she's gone to tuition." I replied. Most of them scoffed at this. "I wasn't scared," they said. Sure. Loud and noisy beings like you would have happily reduced your first classroom to debris. "Well," I persisted, "didn't you feel scared on the first day of school?" "Noooooooooo!" was their delighted reply. "I even made friends on my first day," someone added proudly, and which was followed by a dozen more incoherent accounts of first days. Ok. "Okay, okay!" I cried above the excited horde. "But if you saw someone who was scared, would you help them?"

"Noooooooooo!" came the second delighted answer.
Oh gee.

The boys in particular, except for one who openly declared he liked them and got roundly teased and maybe two, dislike fairytales. Is that somehow connected to why their moral compass is as screwed up as it is? Or maybe it's their fey-like amorality that J.M. Barrie more rightly captured? But that, is a musing for another day.

Why I make one hell of a tutor

Today.
Me shouting at kid.

K, who moves his tuition bag to the front of class says solemnly, "Teacher. I feel sorry for you."

My mind whirls. Eh?

K continues on earnestly, "Because you keep having to scold N."

Am I being pitied? By my student?

In a better frame of mind, I might have asked him why he didn't feel sorry for N instead, who was after all, the one being scolded.

Yesterday in Three.

14 Feb

Midnight slinks unseen

Past. Some things may change, but this

Would last forever.

Hot nights

Screw this bloody sore

It hurts so much even as

I enjoy ice-cream.

Tuition

Ink stains, the mark of

Industrious scribbles that you

Write, with unsure hands.

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.