The Student Becomes The Teacher

A dozen Taiwanese children in uniform suspenders and sailor shirts took ten years off my life this afternoon. Since none of them were my brothers, I couldn't tell them I was going to beat the shit out of them and then tell Dad when they were being bad. This was the entirety of my disciplinary modus aprendi at home, so I was at a loss this afternoon. But I now know the "I'm-going-to-push-your-buttons-and-see-what-I-can-get-away with" attitude transcends continental boundaries.

Actually the kids, for the most part, were sweet and studious. And I have to give them extra credit for the fact they'd already been to a day full of school, they were probably hungry, and they were forced to spend two hours with someone who didn't speak their language. And some of them were as young as 8. That's tough.

The main problem was the school owner didn't give me a teacher's guide until 20 minutes before class started. Suddenly I understand why on forumosa.com I'm always reading about teachers spending their own money on classroom materials: In Taiwan owning a private English cram school can be a lucrative business. Marketing and appearances are vital. That means money goes to gaudy classroom paint jobs and adorable plastic book carriers. It also means my classroom had no extra pencils, pens or paper, and the whiteboard markers were almost all useless. Oh, and there were no towels in the bathroom, only toilet paper.

But I survived, and I now know what I have to prepare for in the future. I deserve a beer or several.