lietuveens: (всё тлен)
...I thought I'd be fine. My mistake probably was cleaning it all up with my bare hands. In two days I felt the "pleasant" effects of a rotavirus. I've been totally down for two days, just started feeling somewhat better. Still a bit nauseous.
lietuveens: (Default)
... a palm tree is left. I imagine myself on a bus with a palm tree. Great.

So I am looking at this world map on the back of the classroom. It's perfect. Purrfect. But it's old. And I need two maps, actually. Two enormous maps Anna needs. When kids gather around the map to check their works, there's not enough space for 15-17 of them. I guess I'll have to take a promenade through the bookshops.
lietuveens: (shutup)
...but I'm not really working. After the long summer break one has to GET USED to the thought of being at work again. I tried to make myself comfortable with this thought last week and this week, I even visited school a couple of times. Yes, visited - because I didn't do any work. And I couldn't, honestly! The repairs are still going on, dust and workers everywhere. And my room's full of equipment from other rooms, looks like a safe. This week all my buckets are back, but my blackboard cloth isn't. The blackboard has been cleaned, though! Still had Past Simple schemes on it since June.

Mom says: "Surely you miss children." No, I don't. That's what they all say - I must love children. But I don't. People should really stop imputing me emotions I don't have. You don't have to love arthritic blood vessels, broken bone crumbles and tumors to be a surgeon, so why do I have to LOVE children to be a teacher? I enjoy working with them, true. I prefer working with children to working with adults, that's about it.
lietuveens: (fuckyou)
So, today - grade 3. A class of 30. Instead of doing the tasks the kid just writes all obscene words he knows on a paper. I confiscate the paper and suggest that I should share his achievements with his parents. The kid starts shouting he'd rather die, runs to the corner and starts smacking his fucking face against the mirror. I am startled, naturally, and point out that it is inadvisable to break a mirror that doesn't belong to him. The shitass switches to the wall. I basically lift him and and sit him down on a chair. This is when the class unfreeze and start yelling that the kid pretends to be hysterical from time to time, and it's all just one fucked up show. Which it turns out to be, because while I am speaking to the kid, he glimpses at me from time to time to see my reaction.

Shit.

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lietuveens: (Default)
Anna

August 2017

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