love the 19 year old au pairs

but I caught this little girl's eye in the hottub yesterday. I had noticed her before when i got in. She was chatting with some older gentlemen, a sunburnt, retired European. She got out and headed twards the pool. Wow. what a body. Tall, prolly 5'10, thick and healthy, with a trophy rack. If she hits the gym hard, tones up, and gets rid of some of that baby fat, man, she could be in Playboy, i shet u not.

Anyway, eventually, she comes back to the hottub, and i'm chillin readin' some fiction. I catch her eye and flash her a smile. I look down, look back at her, and she's smilin. We do that for about 10 minutes: she keeps lookin at me. hey, what can i say...

finally, the hottub empties so i wade over to her. Turns out, she's a 19 year old au pair from Northern Germany, with a sexy little accent ;)

I chat her up for about a half hour, give her a ride home, and she gives me her name so i can find her on facebook.

I'm not Nightmare Believer. I'm gonna take my time and savor this one, more than once.

Let it snow!

it snowed a bit on Sunday, enough to put a nice, thick coat of ice on the ground. School was canceled Mon., as well as today. Supposed to snow again tomorrow and Thurs.

Looks like Xmas break started a little early this year. See you in school Jan. 5!!! Suckers!!! =-)

big sister

She just graduated from college. Big sister stopped by to visit little sister and the school with her mom. The mom actually made the first move, started chatting me up! speaking to me in Spanish, was kinda cool. Later, I made my move for the young one when the mom was busy. Found out a little about her, apparently, like me, she too, lived in Spain. I asked her if she was on facebook... we started emailing. Finally, we went out yesterday. Now, I'm not Nightmare Believer so I don't have any hot stories to tell, yet.

But the whole thing was kinda intriguing, it all felt kinda naughty. After all, big sister was once a student at my school, before i got there. So, in a weird kinda way, i was dating one of my students, though fastforward to when she is a real woman. Was kinda crazy. idk.

Not the sharpest hammers in the shed

One kid asked me how to say 'burrito' in Spanish.

Another little girl was upset that she couldn't find 'smoothie' in her dictionary.

yup

7th grade. we're practicing the verb 'to need' or "necesitar."

This kid says, "necesito a gun!"

fecking hell.

figures

a day like anyother. tortillas, hummus and tea for breakfast. i get dressed and head down to the school to give the kiddies their lesson. As I pull into the parking lot, there is a cop standing in the middle of the driveway, blocking the entrance to the school, his squad car off to the side. He asks me, "what business do you have here?"

"Um...er...I'ma da Espanish eteacher?" i calmly respond. He asks for my ID, my school ID, which i don't have on me. He asks me to pull my car off to the side. He radios into the director of the school to confirm my identity. I look across the parking lot and see other cops, squad cars patrolling the school.

I'm kinda wondering what-in-the-sam-hell is going on!!!!! So i ask him, "hey buddy, what-in-the-sam-hell is going on?"

He responds, "it seems like someone made a threatening phone call yesterday to the school, said they were gonna come on down with an AK-47 and shoot everyone." He continues, "okay, just confirmed you're the Spanish teacher, come on in and have a nice day!"

The Music Teacher Wants Me

There was no school on Friday; we had a training instead. Hundreds of the Catholic teachers in the metro area gathered at a school for our first, officially sanctioned in-service day! There were a few hotties there, let me tell ya. I sat next to one in the church and her face lit up like a christmas tree: she was cute. To ruin my moment, then came the music teacher, butting in and blocking my cock, "cockblocking." Whatever, in the end, she will be mine, oh yes, she will be mine.

Somehow, the music teacher and I got talking about beer, and after lunch will quietly slipped away and stopped at the first bar on the main road. It took us a little while to get there and get our drinks ordered, and this didn't leave us with much time to make it back for the start of the second session, so we decided to just skip the second session all together and, instead, execute a dive bar tour.

It was great. While all the other teachers were yawning through "How to Deal with Angry Parents," we were throwing back cold ones, playing pool and music on the jukebox. Oh, and she was flirting with me, big time. She's not bad looking: I wouldn't kick her out of bed; she's just not really my type, whatever that means: She's kinda goofy and thick in the middle, but she's tall and has red hair. And she wants me, so that always improves a girls chances when trying to bag me.

We had the training itinerary with us, so we new the aproximate time that we needed to show our faces at the end of the day to give the impression that we were there the whole time. The closing prayer was planned for 2:20 so we rolled into the parking lot at 2:10. No mind that we reaked of smoke and alcohol, we strolled in, chests out, shit eating grins displayed. And you probably could've guessed what happens next.

Yes, our principal, er...um...that is the director of the school, is there, waiting for us. It seems that she was released early and is in her car, pulling out of the parking lot, going home. We wished her a good weekend and turned 180 degrees, and found a new dive bar.

I didn't fuck the music teacher. not yet.

class canceled

I've read countless acounts on Dave's about teachers who get their panties in a bundle when their class is canceled. As long as Im paid, I couldn't give a rat's ass.

Today, however, i began to feel, ever so slightly, empathy for such folks, only because it was my first class of the morning: I could have slept for another two hours; oh well, I surfed the net and was paid. :-D

Oh man!

someone triggered the fire alarm yesterday. The fire department showed up and everything, sirens blaring and all the bells and whistles.

unfortunately, this happened during lunch time and classes weren't disrupted. :-(

Stingette.

My sister has a winebar in the next town, over that way.

She's got a bun in the oven so I lent a hand pouring fermented grape and barley juice, tending to the bar, customers, chatting up the lovely ladies, single or not!

Just so happens, Hollywood set up next door in an old, vintage theatre filming their latest piece of crap. Rumour had it, Sting's eldest daughter was in the flick.

Well guess who came around to the winebar. None other than Ms. Fuschia Sumner. I had the pleasure of serving her. I knew it was her right away; you see, there aren't many Londoners running around small-town.

Get your mind out of the gutter. I only served her wine. Although I did my best at the Arabic art of seduction by eyes.

Fuschia, if you should read this, sure I'll go out with you sometime, give me a call ;-)

Please don't punch me in the Face

At that same bar, I ran into my highschool enemy.

Apparently he is a hippy now: spent a few years in Santa Cruz smoking dope.

Shockingly, he didn't want to punch me in the face, fortunately. A little disappointed, I felt silly for having actively avoided him all these years, all for nothing.

In the end, I bought him and his a buddy a beer and left him in peace. I thought it a nice gesture and I'm sure he appreciated it, much better than the knuckle sandwich i gave him last time. :-D

Gimme that, Bitch!

Last night, as the clock struck 2am, the security guard, who looked like a doberman pincher on roids, viciously ripped my ice cold Sierra Nevada Pale Ale out my hand. Apparently, in the not so grand state o Californie, the sale, purchase or consumption of an alcohol beverage at a bar is strictly prohibited between the wee hours of 2am and 6am. The feckin' bastards!

I kiss the ground

for I'm back in the land of my people, conservative bastards that they may be, they're plenty polite in most social situations. i had planned a trip to Mexico City and south of there but didn't manage to save any money for that. You see, during my investigations, research, I learned that life, adventure were not simply a matter of spending big money, lodging in resorts, visiting exotic places; nay, life, adventure, is to be found in the moment, in people, smells, tastes, views, things which are all around us and not need be paid for, neccessarily. With that in mind, I had a damn good time these past few months and it cost me a few bucks, a few buck with which a could have had a lot of damn good time in Mexico. In the end, like a novice TEFLer that I am, I'm back with the folks for summer. Being back home for the summer ain't so bad, it seems. Already, I've been 'Drinkin' with Lincoln'. Our local water-hole gives 10 drinks for $5 on Tuesday nights. Not to everbody, though. You've got to have connects'. That was plenty fun. I've also been floatin' down the river. You get yerself down to the tireshop, buy an innertube, plop it in the water, jump on it, and a down you float. Don't forget to bring an icechest full o beer, stuck in an other tube. Some old farts had a beach along the river and were throwin' bead necklaces to the ladies floatin' by, in exchange for some eye candy. Othe than that, I've been wasting away, declared vacation. In the end, I might get down to Baja.

ESPN, YOU SUCK!

ESPN loses the visual feed, not the audio, on Turkey v. Germany. Instead of going with audio only, calling the game play-by-play, ESPN went to the studio for some kind of round-table discussion. Fucking bastards. The producer should be fired, taken to the town square and have rotten tomatoes empalled about his neck and shoulders. Because of this, all of the U.S.A. missed the 3rd and 4th goals. We caught the 5th and then missed the rest of the game. In desparation, I went online, trying to find a radio station; no luck Finally, caught the ending on the house AM radio, Spanish channel. How did you cope in your neck of the woods? ESPN claimed that there was a global blackout.

dog tired

Berlitz, what can I say. Occasionally, we get these corporate clients, wives of engineers. The company pays for the lessons. The other day, I had class with a German milf. Euro 08 was on. We went to the Irish bar. I had an Irish coffee and a breakfast sandwhich and watched Germany lose to Croatia. She picked up the bill. That afternoon, I went to the Catholic school for our last class of the year. We had cookies, played some rancheras on the stereo and ran around outside All in a day's work.

one step closer

during class, I took out my cell phone to confirm that the sound was off.

Lolita took notice.

"Hey Mr. Gringo Vasco, what's your number! We should chat! I'll send you a text!"

Not looking at her temptress eyes, I calmly respond, "that's innapropriate."

"Aw, come on, what's your number."

"Maybe when you're 18."

No longer a Temp!

I've just signed contracts at the two schools for next year.

Both contracts combined, I'm paid to teach about 17 hours of in-class and 7 hours of prep. per week.

I'll be on salary so I'll have paid holidays, sick days, two months summer vacation.

no benefits.

I don't really fancy a 40 hour work week so this suits me just fine.

By the way, the temp company keeps calling me and asking me about my plans for next year. How do I break it to them that I'll no longer be working for them and they will be minus two clients for next year. :-D

The end of the year approaches

I teach about 6 classes.

One of them had their last on the year.

I bought, brought a bunch of mexican sweet bread: conchas, cause they look like shells; elotes, cause they look like corn.

They also had "donas" on sale which I gave a pass. See below.

He owes my father an XL golf shirt.

Lolita couldn't find "roller coaster" in her dictionary. Neither could I.

I asked for another, confident I would find it.

Max bet me $100 that I wouldn't find it in any body's dictionary. We shook on it. Fair and square.

Well, guess what. I found it. 'Russian mountain' they call it. He confirmed (his folks are from Argentina and speak Spanish to him at home so he mostly just doodles in class and corrects me when I say something ridiculous, non-native).

Since I knew he wouldn't fork over the cash, I suggested a compromise.

"Bring me some soccer gear", knowing that his father works for Nike.

"Soccer gear is a no-go", he said. His old man works in the golf department.

I don't golf though I have done it before. It's good fun and all: you get to drink beer and drive a little car around a park and get out every once in a while a whack a little plastic ball. It's fucking expensive, though.

"Fine", I said. "Bring a shirt, XL for my old man; he's into golf."

The little fucker told me he would.

He still hasn't.

"Jake in inappropriate"

Lolita struts up to me after class.

"Hey Mr. Gringo Vasco, I don't think I like Jake anymore."

"Oh yeah," I feign interest.

"No. He's too much of a jock."

"That's too bad."

"Besides, he's inappropriate," she explains.

"Hmm," I try not to look into her eyes, fearing she'll see that Jake and I are not so different.

"Yeah, I don't think he likes me for me."

Get used to it tootsie.

Lolita II

one of them, while greeting me and standing in between me and the door, casually unbuttoned her shirt then tried to play it off as an accident.

them girls are trouble I tell you, trouble.

I finally got after them the other day for greeting me more than 5 times a day, "Listen, you've already said hello to me 5 times, now go away!"

I'm losing my cool man, losing it.

Another teacher who was standing right there said, "Oh, they're just flirting with you."

I wish I had some kind of built-in, cyborg annoyance meter that kind of flashed from green to red every time these little pigeons came near with their squeaky little voices and perky little tits. Maybe that would make them go away.

different strokes

I spotted John McCain's stubby little head peering at me from behind a desk.

"What is that!" I forcefully inquisited. The girl, whose t-shirt bared the screen-printed avatar, was understandably embarrassed, as she should be.

"That, what is that!" I continued.

"It's John McCain!"

"Are you serious?"

"Um...yes."

"Different strokes for different folks."

Slippy freud

Had a good time last night. Beer drinking.

Got some good sleep. Or so I thought.

Showed up to class. Thought it a good idea to put on a movie and let it ride.

As the 7th grade teacher was leaving the class and taking the laptop and digital video projector with him, I requested that he leave it with me. I asked if he had a good G rated movie with Spanish audio for, as I casually proceeded to inform him, I was, in fact, hung over.

I corrected myself: told him that I was actually a hang... I had a headache.

Bloody hell.

i don't know

some chick on Dave's is complaining about being a teacher: http://forums.eslcafe.com/job/viewtopic.php?t=60104

one of her issues is unexpected paid time-off. how do you say "up tight" in Spanish?

I fucking love unexpected paid time-off; I show up, class is canceled, I don't do shit, I'm paid!

The problem is when it's expected. I don't show up, I don't do shit, I ain't paid.

On Friday is some kind of fundraiser where the kids run around the track and get a few dollars for every lap. (track = thing you run on, lap = once around the track).

They definitely don't need me there but I was thinking about showing up anyway and sending them the bill.

:-D

Ignatius in Korea

I stumbled onto this one through English Teacher X (ETX).

This guy is totally insane, or totally sane, I forget which one, kinda like Ignatius, the main character in John Kennedy Toole's "Confederacy of Dunces" (Thanks Linus), but in Korea (by the way, i saw the book in the store the other day with an "employee recommendation" on it :-).

Either way, it's worth a read:

http://nightmare-believer.blogspot.com/

Lo li ta

I'm the only male teacher at the school.

The 8th grade girls are constantly trying to provoke me, mostly by exaggerating the tone of their voice when they greet me 50 freakin' times a day, "Heeeeeeloooooo Mr. Smith!" as they flash little lolita smiles.

I do an excellent job of ignoring them and that has calmed them down a bit.

However, on free-dress day when they are allowed to wear something else other than their uniforms, one little curvy temptress always goes out of her way to show me her cleavage. You know, she'll kind of hunch over her desk, making sure her top is drooping while she casually brings her arms in, smushing her breasts together (see pic for example, not my student).

I've thought about making a note of her name and googling her in about 5 or 6 years.

"Hey Lizzy, remember me? I'm your old Spanish teacher. How about you come down to Cancun for Spring Break!"

stimulating

Working with kids is very intellectually stimulating.

It's also a bit olfactory stimulating; they fart a lot.

That sucks

so, in class, we were talking about what we did over spring break. one kid went on a tour with his parents to Idaho, then down to Arizona and back.

I asked, "How was it?"

He said, "It sucks!"

I respond, "It sucks or it sucked?"

He looks confused.

I add, "It was long..."

The class erupts in laughter.

Blow jobs will be scarce in this country one day, mark my word, all thanks to this funny little expression, 'that sucks' which is ultimately a negative expression. You see, kids are quick to make the connection that blow jobs literally suck. They confuse the metaphor.

Conversation with a DOS (director of studies)

I can't blame you; you're not paid well, either. I don't mean to put stress on you; why can't I cancel a class. listen, I already talked to Lucy, I told her I couldn't come in today. she asked why and I explained. It happens, people cancel, we rearrange a meeting, it happens, get over it. Of course, I'll never say this to you because I'll need you to give me a good reference on my next job, so I write this here.

go get fucked.

Fucking berlitz. they charge the clients $120 and pay me $30.

what can I say

...Ihavent'beenaverygoodblogger.posts have been sporadic,maybeifIcarrieda notebook. ideas come to head, seemingliy funny things happen in class, I neglect to write them down, I forget what they were, although they probably werent'very good anyway. I got into this mostly because of the other language teacher bloggers listed at the right. I thought it would be fun to wrtite about the goings on. and it's been fun but I havnt really been giving it much attention, as you have surely noticed. and for that, I will now post some have baked entries. enjoy.

Contract Negotiation Update

One of the schools made an offer; it's not bad.

I was thinking of making a counter-offer, try to squeeze a little bit more money out of the pope. You know, to cover any extra work, trainings and binges that are sure to come up.

Second thought, I might just take the offer. I don't want them expecting me to do more than just showing up.

Ernest goes to Iraq

Hey Vern! No, different Ernest.

EnglishteacherX, the cause of my cynicism, nay, skepticism. whatever. He introduced me to Ernest. Well, he provided a link to his blog. I read the blog, bookmarked it and check it often.
Fucking Ernest is going to Iraq.

and I thought my life was an adventure :-(

Adios

what in the hell does that mean?

My friend told me that most Spanish speakers don't know, either; at least in the literal sense.

they just use it as "Good bye" which isn't entirely unrelated.

"adios" 'to god'

"good bye" 'god be' from 'god be with you'

i confirmed his suspicion, well, it happend with a single speaker. he keeps telling me adios at the edn of class and as I don't care for it much, I told him what it meant. his was a bit shocked. he's a native speaker of Spanish.

i prefer the "hasta luego"

Spring Break, Cancun!

Yippie, I've got the entire week off! and I won't be paid a dime! Yippie!

They are in Cancun, I'm at home. My home is not in Cancun.

I'll have to report that!

A few weeks ago, I started a class with 14 year olds. Already, we're onto our first irregular verb: 'to want'.

So, we were going around the class, expressing what we want.
Most students say pretty innocent things such as "peace," "love," "video games."

Seems easy enough, right? Wrong!

We arrive at Bjorn, tall and lanky yet otherwise unremarkable except for his habit of politely greeting me every freakin' time he sees me in the hall way. With a simple smile, he proclaims his want: "dynamite!" The class erupts in laughter. I chuckled a bit as well until I felt an increasing sense of discomfort.

"Hmm..." I respond, "I'll have to report that to the director." "Okay, well then, moving on, Mary, 'what do you want?'" "Wait, hold on, by the way, Bjorn, what do you want to do with the dynamite?" I inquire.

He reveals a shit eating grin and quips, "Blow stuff up!"

"Yeah, I'll definitely have to report this."

I still haven't reported it.

Jesus H. Christ

Yeah, she didn't have a proposal ready. I shouldn't have expected her to but I did. I knew this was our first meeting and how could she have known what is in my head unless I vocalize my thoughts, write them on paper and hand it to her, send them electronically through a computer, through the internet, to her computer, then to her brain. This hadn't occurred to me until I sat down in front of her, she looking at me with that head, that face that said, "okay, talk! what is it that you desire?" My strategy was DOA - Dead on Arrival. So much for keeping my mouth shut. Such an utter failure on my part, such an incompetence in the art of war - contract negotiations - that no less than ten minutes later my proverbial cards were on the table - I disclosed my current salary. For her part, she disclosed how much my employer was charging her. I guess that evened things up a bit (not really, but that's what I keep telling myself).

I then laid out my wishes: to be hired directly by the school, to be an exempt employee - salaried with a paycheck 12 months a year, and an increase in hours. She duly noted my demands and informed me that she would respond one and a half months later.

Jesus H. Christ!

Contract Negotiation

Greetings lads,

Tomorrow, I go in to meet with the director of one of the schools. Topic of discussion: contract for next year. Game plan; keep my mouth shut. From there, I'll consider the proposal and respond at a later date. What I'm hopin' for: paid summers, sick days, and a decent wage. If I can get it, paid lunches and all the free holy bread and sacred wine to get me into heaven! Wish me luck, mates!

Another Perk!

If you remember the fancy shoes that I was given a few weeks ago by one of my students, you may be suprised to hear that he showed up to school last week with another little surprise for me, a foot ball, the Nike T90 Electra. It's pretty bad ass as it has a kind of translucent blue finish, it looks like a freaking crystal ball. Retailing for around $30, I say it's not a bad deal! I mean, how much is an 'A' in 7th grade Spanish class worth? Hell, I've been giving them out for practically nothing. Although, the other day, for some stupid reason, I had the 5th and 6th grades take a test and the 7th grade write an essay. I say stupid because I don't have any real intention of grading this crap! But the students keep bugging me about it. I wish they would just bugger off.

kids are people too!

I enter the class and greet the children, "Good afternoon!"

They respond, "BAD!"

"Hey, hey, did I ask you how you are? no. I simply greeted you. Now, how are you?"

All in chorus, "BAD!" One sweet, oddly shaped little girl raises her hand, "how do you say 'stressed'?" I tell her and she seems amused.

I quickly change the subject, "Well then, what are the plans for the weekend? Anyone going skiing?"

She raises her hand again, "How do you say 'suicide'?"

This, from an 11 year old.

nuthin' new

but I thought I should write something, just to let you know that I'm alive, seeings how I live in a very dangerous environment and all, freeways, speeding cars.

Oh, the principal of the school, she looks like she could play middle linebacker for the Steelers.

turn for the worse

are we products or our environments? Are cops and teachers born assholes or is it their job that makes them that way?

I intended to impose collective punishment on the entire 7th grade class today; they were to spend half of their lunch break with me, in the classroom, in their seats, not in the caf' eating food, talking, having fun.

That's when I noticed the looks on their faces. In their eyes, I saw my future dismissal from the school should I continue with this policy, for I am a firm believer the following axiom:

Keeping the students happy
keeps the parents happy which
keeps the enrollment up which
keeps the money coming in which
keeps my boss happy and I
keep my job.

so...I decided to just punish those who were disturbing class.

so, you see, I'm experiencing a war within, an internal battle. I fear that I may be taken to the dark side. The authoritarian wants me!

The pink slip.

MC Ward spoke of trousers in one of his recent, most fine pieces. I, on the other hand, would like to consider the slip, the pink-slip, to be exact. Context sensitive, it is not a woman's undergarment. When in a classroom, the referring to such a thing during random, nay, ordinary classroom chaos can, and most of the time will, strike the fear of god into the heart of the casual student. The dastard, however, should be made to return home to pee and em with one in hand. Yours truly had the pleasure of doling out such a fine parchment just yesterweek to a kid who demonstrates great potential for criminal mischief. I had balked at such an action several times previous, however, I have finally made good on my intentions, and not without a result in the positive, fortunately. I fear, however, that several others of a similar ilk may have to share a similar fate. Sooner or later, they will come to know that I am a force with which they must reckon.

Faith Day

Occasionally, like most proper and professional schools (ahem), we have trainings or what they refer to as "teacher in-service," whatever the hell that means. Sometimes they are administrative meetings, a few weeks ago it was about pedophilia (don't have little girls sitting on your lap! it's possible that you have your hand secretly concealed up their skirt!). Today, the training is about Catholic faith. Whether they don't want to pay me the extra hours or they know that I'm not a practicing Catholic, I'm not sure. What I do know is that I haven't been invited, thank god.

Machinations

ATTENTION: NEW ENFORCEMENT OF DISCIPLINE POLICY

Beginning: January 28, 2008, piloted in middle school (gr.6-8)

Dear Parents,

Since Christmas break we’ve noticed an increase in some chronic behaviors, particularly in our middle school students. Teachers and staff report having to ask students several times to be quiet, stay in their seat, and in general, correct them for not following directions. Some students try to argue or question the teachers’ authority. We’ve tried many interventions and consequences to try and correct these behaviors with little success. Many of the behaviors by themselves are not severe, but they are chronic and it makes it difficult for teachers to teach and other students to learn.

Therefore, beginning Monday, in middle school only, we will be enforcing our policies in a much stricter manner. Instead of pink slips, each teacher will have a roster with a check list. If they need to correct a child, that child will receive a check and will be told they have received one. If a student reaches three checks in one day, he/she will be immediately sent to the office and you will be called to come and pick your child up for the rest of the day. We strongly feel that if a student cannot follow the rules of the school, then they should not be here. The student will be allowed to return the next day and the three checks will start over again. This way each day is a fresh start for them. Obviously, a serious infraction will bypass the three checks and result in immediate intervention.

We believe most of our students have just developed bad habits and are not purposely being disrespectful. This method will help them correct their behavior and develop better habits for learning. It will also help us single out the students who need more guidance and help making necessary changes in their behavior.

Please sign the next page and send it back to school on Monday. Thank you very much for your support and concern.

Sincerely,

XXXXX XXXXXX, Principal

My first perk!

The students of English Teacher X give him hot Russian, vodka sex. Those of Monsieur Prof d'Anglais give him delicious, sticky Afghan hash. Those of M C Ward take him surfing? Me, my student gave me a new pair of Nikes (pictured at right). Yes, they are very sweeeet (although shamefully politically incorrect) and may, perhaps, get me laid by hot chicks at the club. I'd rather be in Samara with ETX, skipping the shoes and just going straight to the hot sex.

chinny chin chin

I nearly escaped with my life by the hairs on my chiny chin chin.

Seconds before class was to start, I found myself in the cold, damp and dark den of the secretary. I reached the copier machine without being noticed, opened the lid, deftly inserted my master plan and then... my education failed me; I never learned how to properly operate a copier machine. I was forced to ask for help. I found myself at the mercy of Ilene, the dreaded secretary.

She seemed calm enough, surveyed the situation and then pushed print. There was a problem, one which I'm not prepared to diagnose. After 15 blank pages she pushed cancel, opened the lid, removed my page and declared me safe to proceed. Easy enough I thought, although the digital display indicated the machine was ready to print 250 copies. I moved to push "clear quantity" and that's when my life flashed before my ears. As cold as widowed snake, she hissed, "DO NOT DO THAT!" I found myself, flashed back to my childhood, defenseless, helpless, powerless; I wanted to cry. As quickly as it had started, I regained my footing, albeit in a less than commanding tone, I proclaimed, "you said 'go ahead.'" She faded in the distance. I made the copies, escaped with my life.

If looks could kill...

The first trimester has recently reached its conclusion. I've bid farewell to my beloved 3rd and 4th graders for they were a lively bunch and not entirely without a properly functioning intellect. Since, I have moved up and on to the 5th and 6th graders who should be able to handle more complex, mental exercises, commonly known in the teaching profession as explicit grammar instruction! [the screams, shrieks of children echo in the fore and aft]

One may or may not be surprised to learn that I am a relatively easy-going, mild tempered teacher who is not prone to assign homework, quizzes or tests, not entirely because I don't believe in grading but because I'd rather avoid the paperwork. I also tend to follow the communicative method, day after day. Take that and combine it with my sincere desire for the children to truly enjoy themselves in class and the result might be characterized by a casual observer as a seemingly chaotic clusterfuck: 30 children skipping about, all looking for a partner to interview, inquiring about their present taste in books, tv shows, preferred dinner entrés and the like, all in a steady, vocalized roar, loud enough to create a vigorously, roiling boil which, when untempered, will reach the point of spill-forth in any self-respecting Catholic school teacher; two of which are perched daily at their desks in the back of the room, eyes glaring with a look that, if it could kill...

I roll into 5th grade at about 2:00. The teacher has the children prepared with Spanish notebooks out and bilingual, pocket dictionaries on the desk. The teacher, well, she uses this time as preparation: the mindless grading of papers, the dull task of entering scores in her journal, the desperate watching of the clock. All of her efforts will come to no avail. Spanish class has begun and the the mayhem is not far behind. Why the teacher doesn't simply vacate the premises and seek refuge in the teacher lounge is beyond me; It would make a better situation for all involved. But no! The teacher stays and it gets hot in her kitchen.

It starts with the look in her eye and the reddening of her face that makes her look like a pissed off tomato. This should be enough to put the fear of god into the children, however and unfortunately, they are looking the opposite way, they face me. I, on the other hand, face the children and the glaring, murderous visage of the teacher. I manage, mostly, to ignore her as do the children. But when there is a will, there is a way and this way consists mostly of yelling, shouting and, in general, verbally violating the children who never see it coming. One minute, they are in an ecstatic bliss, enjoying the intellectual stimuli as is presented through the Spanish medium by yours truly, vocalizing what had been strange and foreign sounds, flashing smiles to their classmates who share in their embarrassment at uttering such obvious non-sense, when giggles begin to emerge and the rumble grows stronger; then, at the very next minute, the teacher in the back of the room is no longer the master of the demon within. She releases violent, verbal blows, vocalized slashes, hot steel of castigation, shame, and demoralization is struck, lacerated into the souls of the children. The power structure must be preserved and the children must know their role and pay the price, much to their horror and mine.

And it gets worse. Last Wednesday, after school, I was coolly making my way up the stairs trying to avoid the principal while slipping into my car for a clean escape, when, at last, I found myself confronted by the secretary. At her side, there stood one of my students, whimpering, teary eyed and confused and I wondered how she had arrived upstairs before myself. The secretary demanded that the student owe me an apology for her behavior in class and that she promise not to tap her hands on the desk again. It seems that during the class, perhaps while my back was turned, she was extraordinarily rendered from the class and sent to gitmo, the principals office. Dumbfounded, for I hadn't the slightest idea that she had been forced from the class, I accepted her apology.

the end?

smooth sailing

Everything seems to be going rather smoothly at the school: I try to do as little work as possible and my bosses have been ignoring me for the most part. I'd call that smooth sailing.

I don't give many grammar/translation exercises, not because I don't think they're useful but because I would have to grade them all! This goes for tests and quizzes, too; I happen to think these, on the other hand, are pretty useless. I'm supposed to submit weekly lesson plans to my boss but I don't and I hardly ever see her. We had to post grades the other day. I went to the computer, opened the program, and gave full credit to about 90 students.

It kinda feels too good to be true. I'm sure that, soon enough, I'll get a phone call, a summons where I'll have to face the executioner, take responsibility, be held accountable for my shortcomings and repent for my sins.

From Beers to Barbells

Well, since I'm at the brink of divorce largely due to my after-hours drunkenness which often leads to moodiness and I have developed a thick layer of fat that begins at my collar bones and stretches south below my navel, not to mention a ballooning buttocks and thighs; combined with the wife's high level of stress due to over-work and the long commute which is more than double the hours that I put in a week; I thought I better shape-up before she ships me out, figuratively and literally.

So, for the moment, I've left my compatriots at the ale house, to which I am currently a mug club member at the bargain price of $60 on the year and the first over-sized pint of the day is one buck, to join my other brethren at the sports club at the bargain price of $79 for the processing fee (a bunch of bullocks if you ask me) and a $24 monthly fee (for the moment, I am taking advantage of the free, 7 day trial, very nize).

Today was my first day and let me tell you, it felt good! Of course a little eye candy never hurts and there was plenty :-D

I plan on taking full liberties of the lap pool, jacuzzi (a borrowed word from Japanese for 'hot tub' :-), sauna (borrowed from Finnish), showers and all the other normal stuff. I even considered shaving me beard and plucking my uni-brow right down ze middle!

Back with Berlitz, It's hard to make money in PJs.

Since my few hours at the Catholic schools have resulted in a rather low balance in my bank account, I've decided to get back with Berlitz and work a few morning hours.

My new client is the wife of a German engineer who is working for a major auto manufacturer out in the 'burbs. I've worked with such wives before and, let me tell you, they've got it made; The whole trip is paid, the flight, housing, the salary is half in Euros and half in dollars, and they get free English classes with Berlitz, among other things. It's a great deal for them, they're being paid to go be American for a while.

I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately but have been hoping that it would subside. Nevertheless, I tossed and turned last night and was up at 7 a.m. getting ready to go to work. I ironed my one pair of work pants and a shirt, did my little morning routine and was out the door. Stopped in the café to break a twenty for bus fare and had a machiato (cortado in Spain, noisette in France, and _______ in Brasil). I passed the 15 ride reading "The Shock Doctrine" by Naomi Klein and arrived 15 min. early for work, red eyed and nose running.

A rather cute, japanese-american co-worker showed up at the door and we waited together for the running-late-because-she-overslept/missed-the-bus, cute catalan secretary to let us in. She seemed high on caffine and the starbucks cup in her hand confirmed my suspicion. She inquired as to what I was reading and proceeded to inform me that she is not much of a reader nor is her father who has, "never read a book cover to cover." Wierded out, I impatiently waited for my catalana.

At last, she arrived, looking marvelous as always, even at 8:45 a.m., let us in, and we all moved to assume our battle stations when my colleague asked, "who are you teaching this morning?"
"I'm teaching Olga...um...who are you teaching?...Olga!"

So, here I am, back at home in my PJs not earning any money.

C'est la vie.