I' m delighted to report that an ex-colleague has been in touch regarding this blog. Delighted because it means at least one person outside my immediate family has actually read what I'm scribbling. She kindly pointed out a number of factual inaccuracies regarding A, star of the previous post, "From Russia With Gloves". Being lazy, rather than rewrite the story, I am happy to put the record straight as follows:
"...I would like to correct some of the stuff about that the girl who dyed her hair and went for the short skirts. She was actually from Azerbaijan and for me the funniest thing (oh no, not the funniest - there were so many moments) was when she came with her Dad - and looked all sweet and innocent - sitting in the chair with her knees together and her hands clasped - in an outfit that resembled Alice in Wonderland (hair band and all)... Dad sat there explaining about his daughter - I am not sure what he was really saying but obviously stuff about looking after her and protecting her in her innocence. Anyway the Dad left the country and within 2 days she had converted her wardrobe to all the voluptuous stuff, cut and dyed her hair in a Marilyn Monroe style, and started looking for a boyfriend.
"Also, do you remember that she never concentrated in class but spent the time pouting in her mirror touching up her make up? After several weeks or months of her becoming more and more extreme in her behaviour I then had reports of her wondering the streets and we became concerned that she was almost verging on prostitution, although she wouldn't have seen it that way... so I called her into my office and said to her : " 'A' I have heard reports of you meeting up with men, and I know that in fact you are not really looking for sex, but love, so you must be really careful. No, says 'A' - I like sex!"
So there you have it, truth battering fiction to a bloody pulp once again. Thanks for the input, JLH!
One of the commonest figures to be found within TEFL is the aspiring administrator. This is a teacher who, often drained by years of repetitive, poorly remunerated clowning around in the classroom, seeks a position managing other teachers, such as Director of Studies (aptly and attractively known as "Doss"), from which they can sit in an imaginary TEFL director’s chair smoking a cigar, bellowing, “CUT!” and enjoying not having to pull a linguistic rabbit out of a hat twelve times a day, five days a week. I include myself within this TEFL subgenre, although my past experiences of administration have left me with an odd yearning to get back into the classroom and be king of my own modest sandcastle. In 2005, whilst I was working in HR at a local factory, my Brazilian friend Bert and I decided to start our own school. I had recently managed to wriggle out of a honey trap I’d set for myself, when I offered to give a free English course to my colleagues in the factory’s Training a...
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