Senioritis

I've said a few times that if you want to get to know people and think they are decent human beings, meeting them the last semester of their senior year is not the way to do it.

I try my best to keep a good attitude about these guys, giving them the benefit of the doubt.  But this week was a little much.  Consider:

Tuesday was the senior skip day.  It was hastily organized and no teachers, advisors, or administrators were informed about it.  Basically a slap in the face.  One lone girl didn't go, which prompted all sorts of nasty comments about her by her "friends".  The principal went to where the students were and gave them the choice to come back with minor consequences or not come back with major consequences.  Half came back.  Some were indignant that they had their "right" to skip revoked.  Oh, the hubris.  I hate pride, unless it's me that is prideful.  Then I don't notice.

Okay, so the skip day was bad enough.  Maybe I just can't relate because I was really never a senior in high school.  Today, however, I was called into the principal's office (oooooooo!).  Apparently, some of the students claimed that I told them it was a mistake for them to come back.  Huh?  Me, who supported the administration a lot more than some other teachers did?  I said that?  The closest thing I can remember saying is a comment about how they think that if ALL the seniors skipped that they can't be punished.  I guess it's possible to misinterpret that...

My last episode just happened.  I've been working with a student to do an independent project for credit so they can graduate.  To make a long story short, that project has not yet appeared.  To top it all off, after hearing excuses about why it's not in my hand, I find this student with friends at char dukan, the closest thing to the Max these kids have (SBTB reference, YES!).  I was not pleased.

Oh, only four more teaching days and a little over a week of exams to go.  We all need a vacation at this point...

Who got the scoot?

I had never ridden a scooter. A part of that goes back to the blood oath my mom made me made about never getting a motorcycle. But, it's a scooter not a motorcycle and I only rode on it, not owning it. So good. As I zipped up to char dukan on the back of my Spanish student's (i have a student?) I noticed we were going about 15 kph. Still, SO much better than walking up that hill.
...
...
I want a scooter.

Very different questions

I had a lesson yesterday in my Intro to Christianity class about the differences between Catholics and Protestants.  Here are some questions I was asked:

"If a priest is giving last rites and the dying person chokes to death on the wafer, do they still go to Heaven?"

"So, let's say that a priest is hearing confession and someone confesses to murdering the priest's wife (I explained why this couldn't happen)-  Okay, his son then (I explained why this couldn't happen)- Okay, his sister.  Would he kick the guy's butt?"

"Is suicide the same sin as murder?"

Not only such a quick switch from the absurd to the serious, but pretty hard to answer all of them.  Five more classes to go before exams!  I'm going to miss this class.

sitcom

I am happy to say that I see my life like a comedy.  It's really the best genre for the way I see the world.  Also, since my other options are romance, horror, and tragedy, it's really the best option.  I have at times wondered aloud why there are never any sitcoms about teaching.  There is so much ripe material in the things that people say and do in this job.  Take this example from the past week:

On the test for Judaism, I asked, "When was the Jewish Temple destroyed?"  The answer, for those of you who don't know, is 70 AD.  Most students got this correct.  One student, however, answered "1780."  Get it?  Get it?

The students I teach are often the funniest people I come into contact with.  There's something that goes on in my head when I get into a battle of wits with my students that I can't describe, but I know I enjoy.  When they're trying to think of a way to push back a test date or raise their grades and I can outsmart them?  Amazing.  

What I enjoy even more is when the students outsmart me.  A while back, one of my students was trying to get a Starburst out of me.  Conventional asking and begging failed.  After class, she offered me a mint.  The second I put it in my mouth, she gleefully demanded a Starburst.  Dangit, I couldn't say no with that mint in my mouth.

Upon more thinking, I'm not sure a sitcom would work, really.  A teacher's cast of characters is so big, including students, co-workers, and administration, that there'd be no way to keep storylines going.  Teaching is more like a gigantic, middle school orchestra.  It's huge, messy, and chaotic on the outside.  But, every so often, that middle school orchestra surprises everybody with their harmonies and beautiful music.

I feel like this post has been very cliched and cheesy.  Forgive me.  I just don't have a ton to write about.

Right now, life is normal.  I'm teaching, scraping together something like a social life, and planning my summer and next year.  It'll be more exciting in a month or so, I swear.  New house, new experiences, new classes, new people, new season of my sitcom.

Spring has sprung

... and love is in the air.

Pretty much everyone under the age of 20 has noticed that with the warmer weather, comes more public displays of affection here at Woodstock.  I don't know if that's the best word to describe them, though.  They are IN public, but the kids would be horrified and offended if you call them on it.  Ask the teacher that decided to take a picture of a couple making out, much to the horror of the students involved (it was deleted).  They ARE displays, but with the word display, I think of manequins in a store window.  It's the word affection that I especially don't care for.  How many of these students are REALLY in love and truly have affection for each other.  So, my term that I'm sure won't catch on:  Public and oblivious showings of codependancy and/or saliva exchange, or PAOSOCADSE.  In Spanish, this is a reflexive verb meaning "to be codependant and/or swap spit."

Watch the dipthong.

Besides the average temperature of teenage bodies, other things are heating up around here as well.  The lack of rain, dead leaves, and winds have teamed up to create forest fires.  The hills have been in a perpetual state of haze from the smoke, and a few nights ago, I looked out to see that pretty much every hill surrounding us was on fire.  There was even a fire on the Woodstock hillside yesterday, not a 10 minute walk from my house.  Let's hope nothing gets worse!  Monsoon is just around the corner, from what I hear.

Culture

This weekend I got to attend a few different events (nothing ever stops here at Woodstock).  

First, we had the Indian music concert, which only happens once a year.  The kids who train on the sitar, tabla, santoor, and vocals all get to perform for the school.  It was an interesting experience, and again I realized how little I really know about this land I live in.  The way music is described is incomprehensable to me.  Songs were described to be played at 15 beats in raag teentaal.  Honestly, reading the program I thought I was reading the names of students (who is Raag Teentaal?).  The songs also go on for a few minutes longer than is comfortable for my inexperienced Western ears, but the songs are almost enchanting with the rhythms and repetition.  I'll have to go next year and really try to figure it out.

Saturday was the Woodstock Mela, which is the Indian term for fair or gathering.  There's a building on campus called the Hanifl Centre for Outdoor Education.  It has been vastly underused, mostly due to its location (the far edge of campus, but, hey, still closer to the school than my house).  Well, Mrs. Hanifl was in town, so heck, let's try and show her we use the place!  The Mela was held there, despite the old location working fine and dandy.  

Vendors from Mussoorie and from the smaller villages further into the mountains showed up to hawk their food and wares.  The Thai, Japanese, and Korean kids at the school organized to serve food (or shaved ice) to help with scholarships.  The 9th grade sold hot dogs (chicken kabobs on a bun), the 11th grade sold ice cream, and the 12th grade did nothing as far as I could tell.  My grade, 10th grade, was supposed to be in charge of the carnival.  Long story short, because of the location, we had no room for a carnival and we were reduced to face painting.  Overall, it was a good time for me.  First of all, I had the shortest walk to an event for the first time ever.  I ate a ton of good food and got my hands on some rare brown sugar (about a dollar at Walmart, where it is from, but I paid 300 rupees or about 6 dollars for it).  I also picked up a batik wall hanging of an Indian-looking Jesus.  Very cool.  

In addition to all the food and selling, there was a bit of entertainment.  A few Nepali kids did a dance, the elementary kids all dressed up and danced, and a few of the Woodstock employees did a dance.  But, the best was the group of kids from a local village.  They rocked the place with their Indian dance moves (screwing in the light bulb and all).  They had major stage presence and at one point a bunch of them jumped on each other's shoulders and danced like that.  I'm learning that for men, dancing is all in the shoulders around here.  I continue to use my hips when dancing, but I have been practicing the shoulder bounce.

Anyways, the weather has gotten nicer, it's almost May, and that spring lethargy has been creeping into student and staff alike.  Summer is almost here!

The biggest

The past week or so, I've been saying the following phrase: "That's the biggest (fill in animal or bug) I've ever seen!"

They grow 'em big here in the Himalayas. First was the biggest monkey I've ever seen while eating lunch on Sunday a few weeks ago. This massive langour (the nice, grey ones) runs by and climbs up a house. At the same place this past week, I saw the biggest bee I've ever seen. You know those old Sally Jesse Raphael show where they would show massively obese people compared to average people? Imagine a normal, fuzzy bumblebee, then think of a massively obese bumblebee. Like a little, flying black and yellow tank.

The other day, I saw the biggest spider I've ever seen, in my house. I sat down in the bathroom (we're all very comfortable talking about this process at this school) and noticed a spider hiding behind the pipe underneath my sink. It wasn't hiding very well. Like if I tried to hide under a desk, its legs were sticking out. This thing was huge. Probably about the diameter of my pinky finger and then some. Paralyzed with fear (and on the toilet, so unable to move anyway), I yelped when it scurried away to another location in my house. I only hope my ayah killed it.