Saturday, February 14, 2009

The Only Way To Win Is Not To Play At All

Dear English Teacher X:

How's the Director of Studies thing doing?


Shitty, thanks for asking, interested. I suppose, looking back, it was rather naive of me to think I could change the system from within; like somebody thinking that becoming the General Manager at McDonald's meant he could institute table service and a wine bar.

I've fought them tooth and nail on many fronts, but very few, if any, victories. I suppose teachers get treated better here than they do at Head Office, but still not great.

We did all get washing machines back in 2007, though I suspect that was just because so many guys were coming to work stinking.

Even tiny things that would be easy to institute tend to be beyond them; like putting names or numbers on the rooms, for example, so we could avoid this daily conversation:

"Where's my class?"

"In the room with the oleander plant."

"Uh. . . which room is that? What does an oleander look like?"

"Oh, wait, the oleander died. The yellow room."

"You mean, the room with the yellow walls, or the room with the yellow key chain?"

"No, it's the blue room that has the yellow key chain."

"I thought you called that room the yellow room."

"We do, sometimes. It's the room across from the Russian teacher's room."

"Don't they share the same room as us?"

"It used to be the Russian teacher's room, we changed it to a classroom eight months ago."

"I've only been here five months."

"Ask the Director of Studies to show you. . ."

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