I’m taking a risk here because I’m going to tell you about my week, no holds barred. Lots of unladylike language….
It was a BITCH of a week, to be honest. I worked 60 hours – well I was AT WORK for 60 hours. This is A Long Week, by any standards, except perhaps in the case of a new mother, staring disbelievingly into her new very, very long, sleep-deprived life. Now we only had THREE students this week – one of whom was dubbed “the tsunami” by his colleauges. I know, I know, very many of you will be giving me the finger and snarling, “Shut up – you know NOTHING about “bitch” weeks!” But these chaps are graduates of the school of “I pay, you deliver – no argument and no compromise.” I have had to dismiss a teacher, – (probably the thing I hate doing the most), turn a blind eye to red wine liberally distributed at 10 am and continuing until the academic day has ended – (after which, I don’t really care what happens), be shouted at and threatened by a student who admitted, “I don’t like when someone say no to me”, host – which I really mean in the true sense of the word (smiling, gracious, sociable, polite, accommodating – all that stuff) – an evening with students, guests and staff and remain serene and unflappable in the face of VAST volumes of alcohol and very dodgy karaoke on the iPad after a cordon bleu dinner, and finally swoosh about “glamorious” and confident when my new boss arrived, unannounced, to “see how things are and have a chat with the students” (who were well-oiled after a rah-rah lunch of fish and chips and copious quantities of wine). And these were the people that were there.
I was also expected to staff and organise next week when ALL the expected students needed visas. If they had all been granted, I needed four teachers; if none had been granted, I needed one. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly the information from various British embassies has come through until TODAY, FRIDAY, I was informed that ONE of the three visas had been granted. I then had to race around like a dizzy mare, trying to find one teacher to take up the reins.
I cannot work like this – herding cats, surfing mercury, stabilising jelly, is easier and less stressful.
But then the “poem” left on the information board by one of the inebriated students was:
Lessons very crazy, Teaching method good,
* (name of school) funny, I nothing understood.
At least it scans…..