Teaching, the First Weekend

So, teaching was definitely an experience this weekend.

Saturday began... interestingly. I got to school insanely early because I thought I would have trouble finding school or getting things in order. Well, I arrived just fine (though I did manage to take one wrong turn). Which resulted in me waiting forever before class started. We have a teacher's room (my name is on the door and everything), but it's fairly small. Also, I don't have a key for it. I could get a key from the porter, but I don't know how to reassure him that I actually teach there. Maybe he already knows.

So, I eventually entered my empty classroom and began writing on the board. Except first I had to go "borrow" a dry erase marker from someone. When I went to return the marker, she was gone. So, by default, I believe the dry erase marker belongs to me now. Evidently, I can get dry erase markers from the porter (who thought of this system anyway?). I hate to do this, but... In AMERICA,  you would have dry erase markers in the classroom. Or at least at Notre Dame. Because, really, who is going to steal dry erase markers? Especially dry erase markers that spit up all over your lovely orange blouse that's part of your carefully chosen First Day of School Outfit. (Thanks eHow.com, hairspray did not help me remove that stain.)

The first class was brutal. Which means the first day was brutal because I have the American kids on Saturdays (as in, kids who want to learn to speak/write like Americans). I thought this would be a completely legitimate assignment. Unfortunately, the students were terrible. I didn't really maintain authority as well as I should have, so I believe they began to see me as kind of a joke. I wrote down the book they were supposed to buy, instructed them to get a group e-mail (Things are so unorganized here that instead of having listservs for every teacher, the groups themselves create an e-mail that everyone has access to. It's another example, Poland, of why doing things last minute is not the most efficient way.), and then proceeded to run out of things to talk about. I still, at this point in time, had not seen a copy of the textbook. So, I couldn't do any exercises. I still don't know what level their English is at. I was supposed to give them a test, but someone teaching the grammar class came in a few minutes before my class began and told me that the tests were actually for her group. She was kind of a jerk about it, too. I really wanted to open up my e-mail at that point and show her where it told me to administer these tests, but it's not worth it to continue to be upset about it.

So, I went to let the kids go early when they say, "So we don't have to show up for Academic Writing" (which they have with me during the next class period). So, I decide we'll just have Academic Writing right away. Which wouldn't have been the worst idea ever if it weren't for the fact that it was the first day of school. As such, people were trickling in all over the place. So, I was constantly explaining that we were having both classes at the same time to people who probably hadn't even looked at their schedule yet. Luckily, after dismissing the class, I stayed in the room because I had to meet with a professor after class. This was good because I had stragglers coming in just for Academic Writing. All in all, I felt flustered and like everyone knew I was flustered. It was awful.

Then, I met with a professor about the writing exercise I'd just had the Academic Writing class do. To which he replied, "Fail. Fail. Fail. This is terrible. These fucking kids don't even fucking care." (He drops the "F" word all over the place, making me think that he either doesn't understand that it's not necessarily the nicest word to use or that he just really likes filling his sentences with sound when he's lost for words.) He proceeded to tell me that I shouldn't worry about the kids who are doing really poorly because they'll just drop out. Evidently there's a really high drop out rate because they're really trying to turn the program into something competitive.

After returning to the apartment, feeling completely defeated, I met Lola for a relaxing meal at none other than Pizza Hut. Because where do you go in a foreign country when everything is going wrong? Pizza Hut. (We could've gone to McDonald's, but we were feeling classier than that.)

Sunday was much better. I was prepared, and I managed to use at least an hour of the class each time. I still need to get some of the textbooks, but they aren't in the library. So I'm kind of out of luck.