Illegitimi non carborundum?

Right. I’ve been nice. I’ve done my best. I’ve tried. I’m not int mood to be nice anymore. Today I am eev-il Soupy, like fru-its of the dev-il. I’ve had enough. I’m not putting up wi’ it.

In a word: students.

Example A:
Four year old brat who finds it funny to bite me on the hand. Lucky I have my Tetanus jab up to date, isn’t it? And when I snap and shout “NO!” at him, I get his mother complaining because I frightened the little fucker. Excuse me? To whom do I complain that the wee carnivorous shit has bitten me? Are kids allowed to bite teachers now? And I’m not talking the nip on the arse that wee Jack used to do for fun, like a puppy and its favourite slipper. No, I’m talking proper teeth on bone, intentional-pain biting. So I’ve shouted at him, he’s ran out the classroom wailing, and I’ve felt much more relaxed. Until the complaint.

Riiiiiiight. I want to complain then. No wait, I just never want to see the fucking annoying little goit again, seeing as he’s about as stable as a yo-yo and spends all his time squealing like a stuck pig because someone’s accidentally touched his elbow. Which is because he’s already sprawled over the table like it’s all too much. Well screw him, and screw the whole fucking system. I’m sick of it. I swear to any gods and any of their brothers, if one more kid slaps, bites or kicks me “for fun”, I shall punt them through the plate glass window. Let’s see how funny it is with my foot up their arse, shall we?

Example B:
A rather rotund student comes in, and has been one of mine for a while. She sits down and her mother waves at her through the window as usual. We start the lesson. Halfway through, the admin. assistant knocks on the door and asks if I’ve two minutes just to explain the last report for the mam. As the kids are int middle of a grammar exercise, I leave ‘em to it and go to talk to her. Her English is ok and we discuss how to help Little Rotund One in between lessons. I go back int lesson, finish it, and everything’s fine. When Little Rotund One comes back the following week, she says (and I quote): “My mother say you is very nice for such a fat girl.”

Now, far be it for me to go on about sizes in Hong Kong, but let’s start with manners, shall we? Normally I shrug off these comments – yeah, a five foot eight bird weighing twelve stone must be a shock to anorexic ‘normal’ sized birds in Hong Kong, and I’m used to clumsy translations where people are rude when they don’t mean to be. What gets at me is the way this mother’s kid – who let’s face it, could do wi’ a diet far more than I could – has seen fit to voice these comments to her kid int first place. So instead of the usual sarcastic ‘thank you’ that I trot out, I instead went for the barbed alternative:
“That’s because fat people actually take the time to develop a pleasant and interesting personality, where as thin people in this town tend to be shallow and obnoxious with no manners. I know which one will have more friends.”

Yeah, ok, so I had to bite my tongue after that cos I felt really rude coming out with this to a bunch of twelve-year-olds, but please, let me off. If one more kid tells me I’m the fattest person they’ve seen in their life, I’ll go home and watch TV instead of wasting my time trying to teach ‘em proper bloody social behaviour and conversation skills.

It’s not the comment about being fat that annoys me. It’s actually the lack of manners. I am staggered at just how bald-faced some people can be about how they treat people in Hong Kong. I know it’s the same all over, but sometimes I feel like I’m the only one teaching kids to say ‘thank you’ and ‘excuse me’ to squeeze through the crowd of people on an MTR platform, rather than just barging through like no-one else exists.

You know what? Fuck it.

Maybe I should start barging into people, stepping on other people’s feet at every opportunity, and pushing people out of my way. It’s my turn.

I’m off now to mix about 90% vodka wi’ 10% orange juice.
And watch gratuitous amounts of ‘Psych’ and ‘Supernatural’ till I feel better.

Summat tells me a combination of James Roday and Jensen Ackles will make me feel so much better… Dean Winchester in a big car wi’ a big gun? That’s girlie porn, that is…


And then there’s always this piece of uplifting news to, er, uplift me.

Soopytwist. No bugger’s getting peach nor lube tonight.

Tags:
Hong Kong ~ teaching ~ students ~ MTR ~ Psych ~ James Roday ~ Supernatural ~ Jensen Ackles ~ vodka