I’ve got cockroaches and the new Hey Rosetta album. I guess I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. Oh China.
Last Thursday night, the staff had a raucous St. Patty’s day party at the local beer hole in the Chinese alley across the street. This place is called Wei Wei’s and Wei Wei is pretty cool I think, but I don’t know if I actually know which one he is. I’ve never asked, now that I think about it. But he must be cool because his hole serves cheap, cold beer to teachers and students on any given day. The walls are covered in Polaroid photos of the regulars from the past ten years in BCCSC history. Students sign their names and write Chinese quotes and Chinglish sentiments suitable for the bathroom stall. On this particular day, we requested that all students be turned away at the door so that they teachers could sing Maritimer-Irish songs, blare Great Big C from the boom box, and drink as much beer as $15 Canadian dollars can afford (30 bottles--for the record). I can actually say this was the best St. Patty’s Day I have ever had. Our principal dropped $150 on the whole night, food and drinks for 20 people-amazing! The green beer took its affect rather quickly, as we met there immediately after a notoriously useless staff meeting, and had nothing on the brain but consumption. After a few carols, we started to edit the student’s writing on the walls with our red markers, noting verb tense problems and punctuation issues we’ve stared at for months now. It felt good. We must have been a good crowd because Wei Wei, or whoever, caught us all on video. I pity the foo who feels compelled to show that to our students one day.
But then there were the cockroaches. Bri and I headed back to our apartment to finish the night off with water, carbs, and a St. Patty’s Day Office special (the one where Jim builds mega-desk, thus infuriating Dwight-love it). Well, that was the idea anyway, but there were cockroaches all over the place, you see. So that really killed it for us. We freaked. We were not in a good head-place to deal appropriately with the little creepy crawlies, so we ‘raided’ the dorms for “Raid” and sprayed every nook and cranny of our home. This only brought out more cockroaches, willing to die in the light after crawling for freedom from underneath sinks and dressers. It was sad, but vindicating to see them on their backs, gasping their last breaths. Poor Bri, one took a poop on her bathroom floor before kicking it. We both tossed and turned all night and woke up with headaches and likely a respiratory problem from breathing in Raid all night.
Luckily, our principal demanded that our apartment be fumigated, but forgot to mention us to when this would happen. When I came home after school to get ready to go into Beijing, the house air was putrid and burned my esophagus. Thanks for the heads up, guys. You’d think that if you fumigate an employee’s apartment, you’d find them a place to sleep for the night, and WARN them when it will take place. But no…not in this country. TABERNAC!
But the new Hey Rosetta almost makes up for the entire scandal. Almost…it’s not the same, listening to it outside of New Brunswick, apart from Jen, Cate, Greg, and Amy. It makes me miss the rain, and Snooty Fox nachos.
Today I woke up freezing (the shut off the heating a week ago and it is still cold out), and I was immediately in a grumpy mood. I bored my first class with a lame power-point lesson on writing a persuasive essay, I had 11-11 for a double after that, and the work I gave them was way too hard and so instead I babysat, nagged, chased, glowered, pouted, and tracked my plummeting self worth as a decent educator. By the time I made my way into my advanced 3 class, I had no joy. Straight off the bat I took the route of honesty, I said, “Guys, I am so grumpy. I am really sorry, I am just in a bad mood today and I can’t hide it anymore.” One of my wittier boys asked, “Teacher, what the meaning of grumpy?” “It’s like, I dunno…just…in a bad mood…angry, sad…mixed up.” “Oooohhh” they resounded. “Maybe you can help me by thinking of something to say that will make me happy,” I suggested They were quiet for a minute, I wondered if I had made a mistake by throwing my emotions at them and being honest, Maybe I made them feel uncomfortable. “Be a man!” one of the boys in the middle suddenly yelled out. Everyone lost it. Of course! We all laughed. I skipped the shitty lesson on persuasive writing and instead tested their listening skills. I told them a dramatic version of the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf and asked them to make up a thirty-second play displaying what they heard me tell them. The results were undeniably the most atrocious recaps I had ever seen-I don’t even think they listened!! I don’t think I understood anything they said in their plays because their actions were so ridiculous and unexpected that we howled the whole time. So my day took flight and ended much like an episode of Full House: Danny Tanner is holding me in his sweet loving arms right now and the angels are singing.
I've got some collating to do, you kids have a good day, now!
xox
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