Notes from the TEFL Graveyard

Today is my last day at the school . It'll be a relief, not least because I've been combining it with ploughing my way through a variety of enormous translations , like a 16th-century Bandeirante hacking his way throught the Mata Atlântica, and various tribes of breakfasting indigenous peoples , with a razor sharp facão . Thanks to all who have sent their missives of advice, best wishes, and ego-eroding insults, the latter of which, the sages tell us, are the work of our greatest friends. I recently received an entertaining drive-by insult, which is the very stuff that makes the Internet such a bubbling cauldron of free speech. For those that missed it, here it is reproduced verbatim for posterity: Anonymous said... I am watching you AND your irksome architraves. Behind my veil I am LUGHING HA HA HA at your woebegone non-spark FAILURE OF EFFULGENCE. I am THE breakfast man. The spelling, the syntax, the inventive use of a moulded or ornamental band framing a rectangular openin...

I've done it . On Tuesday I finally resigned from public life as a TEFL teacher to spend more time with my family and my laptop. The owner of the school where I perform my daily masquerades tried to persuade me to stay, but, in a rare display of assertiveness, I held my ground and stated my decision was final. Now I intend to etch a better living from translation, though I'll be giving a few private classes and still teaching on Saturdays at my friend Bert's school. No more daily 60-kilometre round trips. More male voice choir singing. Less time for blogging. An urgent need to learn touch typing. Today, I was so made up about it all I got utterly arseholed on Brahma* at a birthday party in Piracicaba. And I don't even like Brahma. The end of an era. Thank fuck for that . * To avoid any confusion, Brahma is a popular Brazilian lager, noted for its bitter aftertaste. It is not a favourite steed of mine, nor a courtesan from the Indian subcontinent.