I stopped off again at the Children's Art School I pass on my way to work. Yanno, you can learn a lot from kids. They're small and their little brains are often lost in thoughts of candy and computer games, but when they're forced to get creative they can produce some powerful images. Lessons for us grown-ups.
Case in point:
Obviously the artist here is commenting on the struggle of life. This work states, "Even though it may seem like you're hoisting up the heaviness of the world all by yourself, on top of your head, and your nose is bleeding and you're weeping and you are just about on the verge of peeing your pants, be strong. 'Cuz, like, if you drop that shit, it's gonna hurt."
It was a good message for today. Nothing life shattering happened. The heaviness I hoisted in the air was mostly my own funk. The cold I called out as being a wimp a couple posts ago has decided to stop playing around, and has set upon me like a vulture on a bleeding wildebeest. I felt a twinge in my back reminiscent of that spasm that laid me up at the beginning of May earlier this year, so I went to the doc yesterday as a preventative thing. He actually put his hands on me (instead of the usual psychic sonar he employs) and felt my back. For a long time. His English isn't so good, but he used the word "mass." Nobody wants to hear that word, man. We shall observe my mass for a few days, says my doctor. I didn't feel too bad today in the lower back region, but then again I'm downing muscle relaxants.
Turns out my dream about my co-workers not showing up was prophetic, as Judy told me this morning "I decide I pinish dis school." She was going to talk to the boss today and give notice, but decided to wait until after the holiday.
"Good idea," I said. Let our boss enjoy time with her family instead of freaking out about having to find two new teachers. Judy doesn't really want to work. The extra classes she's had to pick up over the last week have driven her mad. Finally, yesterday, she just outright refused. I thought about Kevin writing that offering some one-on-one sessions with his students would "mean a couple more hours per week doing unpaid work, but to me, such a task would be worthwhile." Now there's a teacher.
There's more that could be said about all this, but I'll not bother. I just hope we get a couple new teachers who aren't going to teach my students to say "fish" as "pishee." If you recall, before I went to Canada I wished they'd both be gone by the time I got back. The universe is kind, and it always gives me what I want.
So I coughed my way through classes, and stopped to yell at about 20 high school boys waiting for their taekwondo lesson to start. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to be able to go to the washroom on my 10 minute break without being harassed. As soon as they see me walking by, a couple of them (who I used to teach) smile brightly and wave hi, but a few of the others break into screams of every English phrase they know, with a few Korean insults thrown in just for good measure. So I went off on them, because I'm sick of it, and I wasn't in the mood today. I wonder if they got their jaws back up off the floor before the Master came to make them sweat. And hopefully hit them with a stick.
Back in the staffroom right afterwards, I was told we'll combine the last 2 classes of 5th and 6th graders (to appease Judy) and I'll have them all until we get a new teacher. Even though they're at very different levels in different textbooks. I just rolled my eyes a little and said, "SURE! Hey, why don't you put all the students from every class into the lobby for six hours a day and I'll teach them all at the same time? But, like, can you get me a pair of stilts and coat me in oil and set me on fire too? Because, you know, I like a CHALLENGE!"
And the Child Artist imparts another pearl of wisdom, "Even if you feel like a big pile of shit and have flies buzzing all around you, slap on a smile, buddy!"
Afterall, things could always be worse.
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