Notes from the TEFL Graveyard

Wistful reflections, petty glories.

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Location: The House of Usher, Brazil

I'm a flailing TEFL teacher who entered the profession over a decade ago to kill some time whilst I tried to find out what I really wanted to do. I like trying to write comedy (I once got to the semi-finals of a BBC Talent competition, ironically writing a sitcom based on TEFL), whilst trying to conquer genetically inherited procrastination... I am now based in Brazil, where I live with my wife and two chins.

Wednesday, 26 September 2007

CONFLICT RESOLUTION WITH MOBY

The handsome brute in the picture is Moby, my beloved mongrel. I found him abandoned in a car park with his siblings, aged one month, and I adopted him. Who needs breeding? Just look at the noble lines, the aristocratic bearing. Even his legs are in proportion with his body, a comparative rarity for a dog of dubious parentage.

Moby is the canine equivalent of a Kray twin - I’m not sure which one, I always get my psychotic thugs confused – the one ex-Spandau Ballet star Gary Kemp most convincingly portrayed in the film (I bet that casting director never worked in movies again – he’s probably a TEFL teacher in Ulan Bator.)

Walking the streets with Moby is like going on a pub crawl with a distant Irish cousin who hasn’t been sober since Live Aid. I spend the entire time engaged in conflict resolution, dragging him out of fights and helping him intimidate aggressive strays – not that he needs any help, normally. Even cocky Pit Bulls start hyperventilating as he approaches. Strange, because he’s so affable with most people, except skateboarders, joggers, the postman and our wicked neighbour.

Only once has he got embroiled in an ugly scrap, when a yappy little big-eared mongrel, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Joe Pesci's character in Goodfellas, made an ill-advised attempt to bite Moby's elegant snout. Passing schoolchildren ended up running home in tears as the big guy picked up his assailant by the neck and shook him like a freshly rinsed cos lettuce, before tossing him across the road like a salad (to keep to green leaf similes.) I don't know where he learned that move, but I think word got around town, as now most dogs pretend they haven't seen him or sidle away silently as he struts past.

If any local councillor or the local police chief is reading, a friendly warning. The situation in this hamlet is getting critical mutt-wise. The ratio of stray dogs to people appears to have grown to about 3:1. No community so swamped with hounds can hope to walk long with unsoiled footwear...

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