"In the Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith thought that the primary role of education in the eighteenth century was to compensate for the 'almost entire corruption and degeneracy of the great body of the people', that resulted from the mind-numbing jobs which most people were expected undertake in return for increased wages"- Introduction in Education, Globalisation and Social Change.
I giggled. Am not looking forward to work starting again tomorrow.
I don't know when I first learnt the word "hubcaps". I remember knowing it from a young age, and I seem to vaguely remember asking my Dad what it was when I was about 6, because I kept seeing the word in Archie comics. Several of the running gags in Archie comics involve Archie's sad jalopy that keeps failing, including a few which featured both the wheels and hubcaps flying off in the midst of being driven. Thankfully cars aren't actually like that.
Today I had yet another driving lesson. While driving around (we seemed to have moved on from parking to refining my road skills), I saw a hubcap lying about on a grassy kerb area. Later on the way home on 156, I saw yet another hubcap lying on a grassy area, this time pretty far from a road. Pretty odd to see two abandoned hubcaps in one day.
Met up with Rufus for brunch today at Holland Village. He brought along a friend, Boon Guan, whose name seemed familiar but whose face I couldn't place. No matter, we had a great brunch together at Breko. By the end of brunch I wanted to run off and rest my horribly winded lungs - we had talked so much that I felt like I couldn't speak anymore. I suppose that's one way to determine great meal partners.
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Last week we had a lesson on protecting the high seas. It was bits of climate change, pollution and overfishing all rolled up together in a ball of bad things. I decided to concentrate more on overfishing, because I didn't recall it being taught very much in school at all. All the bits I knew about Bad Fishing Styles and overfishing came from outside reading, so it wasn't till I pieced all my information together when I was planning my lesson that I finally realised how dire the whole situation is. As it is before that, I had already refused to touch pomfret because I know they're horribly overfished, but still kept chomping away on tuna and shark's fin.
Anyway, I had heard about dynamite fishing before, and set about trying to find some clips. Everytime I think of dynamite fishing, I cannot help but laugh blithely, because despite how incredibly destructive it is to the environment (which makes most people sober), the act itself seems to me so ridiculously over the top and overly aggressive that I cannot help but laugh. Bombing fish! That's like throwing a grenade to catch a rabbit. It's the stuff of movies like Naked Gun. Except it's real life, which makes it even funnier and sad at the same time, and so makes me laugh even more.
I ended up typing "dynamite fishing" into youtube (as you do), and realised that the first result given was possibly one of the most funniest things I have ever seen in my life. It wasn't until I watched it for the first time with audio with my students that I realised some parts of the clip has been dubbed over for comedic effect, which made the video even better.
It reminds me of Exploding Whale, which I saw a few years ago and absolutely loved:
Perhaps it's just because it's the perfect combination of things that makes me laugh: death, explosions, and black humour (though, what does this say about me as a person?)
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Today after dinner with my grandparents, they sent us back home. They took a different route from my parents and we ended up driving home via Old Holland Road. The last time my grandfather had been driving me along Old Holland Road was when I was still a student in MGS, probably circa 2006. He kept mentioning how he used to drive me, asking me if I remembered, and chuckling to himself. Then just as we turned the corner to enter Greenleaf Road, he asked me if I remembered how the wall of the house at the corner had collapsed, closing the road temporarily. I was quite amazed because it was EXACTLY what I was recalling just moments before, and made me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. Ah, shared memories of other people's misfortune.
Just watched So Close, So Far with Shu at the Iranian Film Fest. By a stroke of luck I manage to hop onto both 75 and 970 with minimal waiting and arrived home just before 12am, which is a great way to end the day, and put me in a more amiable mood to blog.
I liked the movie initially right until the last bit. I like foreign films that are slice-of-life, peeps into other worlds. The problem I find with this film was that towards the end it felt terribly improbable and depressing (unless 0.01% of every Iranian dies trapped in a sandstorm covered car), with some bits feeling a bit overacted and overwrought. It reminded me a bit of a Russian movie I had seen at the East End Film Festival years ago in 2010, which is still by the far the most depressing and bleak movie I have seen in my 24 years of existence. I remember running to the movie theatre from Stepney Green tube because the Hammersmith Line was delayed. I remember clocking the various fried chicken stores all over as I ran. I remember sitting in stunned silence when the movie came to the end because, WTF?!
Anyway I guess in comparison to that, the Iranian film was much less of a downer. It had some nice shots of Iran, which I really liked seeing, though the shots of the harsh desert landscape made me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because I don't like the idea of being so utterly far from human life. True enough, that's how the main character dies (from being alone and trapped in the wilderness), confirming all my worse city-born stereotypical fears.
Have just started trying to select classes for the upcoming Fall Term, which makes me feel a bit better about things. Lately work has been overwhelming and (largely) unrewarding, which already makes for shit morale. Compounding the problem however is the fact that I know I am serving my resignation notice period, which makes me feel even less motivated, no matter how much I do love and care for my students. Although I know the lack of enthusiasm I feel now is only temporary, it still feels horrid. It makes me feel like pulling grumpy faces at the world. Talking to colleagues helps I suppose, because they understand exactly what nonsense I am talking about, and talking to Shu today over dinner helped too, because she feels similarly. Ah life and jobs.
Yesterday I made a silly mistake. I realised it mere moments after I made the error, and groaned inwardly at what a n00b error (for lack of a better word) it was. I had given out the coloured paper for Father's Day cards before I had finished all the work in class. As I walked out of class to grab the coloured paper, the thought of what a massive distraction it would be vaguely crossed my mind (for I am not that unaware), but then the thought of forgetting to give the paper out seemed worse. So while my students were still dutifully completing their full sentence corrections, I started to slowly distribute the paper only to see them jump out of their seats and clamour for their choice of paper colour. Oh dear.
Needless to say, the last Cloze Passage (on a dog nonetheless) was rushed through by the students as they eagerly awaited Arts-and-Crafts time. Which was just as well really because I felt utterly worn and exhausted yesterday. From 2 weeks ago I've been swamped at work with extra classes. The week of 27/5 to 31/5, I had 11 classes. The week of 3/6 to 7/6 I had 12 classes. This week I am back to 11 classes. I can only wonder what next week will bring.
Yesterday as well something interesting happened, which is that I walked into class and I was immediately greeted by a teary P4 student. My heart sank because I my mind ran amok of all the potential problems: Did someone bully him? Did an accident happen? Then, when he told me he fell down, I thought in horror that he had been injured In The Centre. The relief I felt when he told me he fell outside, in the carpark, was palpable.
I brought him to the office to get anti-septic cream. As we walked there, I noticed he seemed to be even more upset than I had initially realised. His voice was trembling, and he kept talking about how it hurt a lot and how he was in Great Pain (probably exaggerating). Rolling back the sleeve of his denim jacket, I realised he had a long scratch running down his left arm. As I dug around the first aid kit to find something that wouldn't set off his tears (read: alcohol swab) he started to look more and more worried. In the end I settled on letting him apply the anti-septic cream himself as he winced and got all teary, lest I be too rough and prompt a flurry of tears. Then we walked back to class and I told him an anecdote about how I had missed my English orals once because I was running around the quadrangle and fell badly, scraping my knees, and became utterly inconsolable until I was brought home. He seemed to perk up after that.
It's hard for me to quite describe how I felt at that moment as I led him down the hallway to the office, and looked into his worried teary eyes. I felt so terrible that he was sad, and felt that my heart would break if he cried. This was probably compounded by the fact that he's one of the students I am fond of, and a huge history buff like me. I wanted very much to give him a hug and say 'everything's going to be fine!', but I'm sure that would've been wildly inappropriate.
When we went back to class, the place was in uproar. His classmates were happily chatting away and I ended up shouting at them to finish writing their content page. Then one of female students happily started 'ZX stabbed himself! That's why he's hurt' and the whole class started to get very excited about ZX's injury, pestering him with silly questions. I ended up cutting in and telling another anecdote about the Most Embarrassing Fall I Have Ever Had - one where I slipped on an icy patch in LSE and fell on my rump next to a group of tourists admiring the Old Curiosity Shop - and they soon forgot about ZX and started doing their work.
As my teaching careers draws to a close (and when I have the time!), I start to think more and more about the job as a whole and the things I have learnt. I keep thinking to myself: I should write this all down, but the moment I get home I get distracted by something soothing and forget at all about it. This is especially made worse by the fact that I've re-discovered the time black hole that is Civilisation and have been playing it almost every night since last week Tuesday.
For the past few Fridays, I've been assigned to a glass classroom next to the staffroom. I call it a glass classroom because it is literally made of glass. Glass windows look out onto Thomson Road where you can see flags from several nations fluttering away, and the walls and door are made of glass, giving you a full-on view of the two adjoining classrooms (and the other way round too). I am not particularly fond of the classroom because it feels like I'm teaching in a fishbowl, plus you need to awkwardly walk through another classroom to enter it. That being said, it is near the toilets and the staffroom, so I can dash about easily. Still a classroom is a classroom, and I'm getting vaguely used to it.
Recently however, I've been feeling a bit stressed out about teaching there, namely because of the teacher next door. She's a senior teacher, and the lesson plans she shares during meetings always sound fantastic, plus her students always look so engaged and interested. Watching her from my classroom I feel inadequate as a teacher. I can't command such gravitas, summon up such energy and spunk, and plan my lessons as well as her. Even though I tell myself she has a good 10 years worth of experience on me, I still can't help but feel slightly despondent and wish for better for my students. Wish that they had a better teacher who could help them a lot more.
All things said and wished however, I know (for better or worse!) that my students are genuinely of me as a person and an individual, rather than me as a teacher - and I cannot help but wonder if it just might be a good thing, that they will learn empathy amongst other things from the time I've spent with them. Only time will tell I suppose, and I wouldn't trade my students for any other in the world.
