Thursday, September 23, 2004
The whinging doesn't stop there. It continues, albeit in different vein, at work. "Teeaaacher, nooooo, no exam, pleeeaaaseee, teeeaaacher..." Or my personal favourite, "Teeeaaacher, sooorry, I miss class X times, teeeaaacher, sooory, no es my fault, teeeaaacher..." Well, no es my fault, either, is it? Let's make a deal, you can miss class as many times as you like, but then I will fail you, OK? That seems fair to me. Interestingly, I am finding that the students with more than the six absences I will allow (a cycle is only 18 days - surely this is fair) almost always use the excuse that they didn't know about my rule. You didn't know that isn't isn't acceptable to miss over a third of the cycle?? I must have announced the rule on one of the XXX days that you didn't make it??? Here's your F, dunce. And for the love of dios, stop whinging at me.
Right, I am almost done, but there is one more place where I must endure great whinging. This is at home (how relaxing!). For some reason, Keila (six) has developed a way of talking that I thought was reserved for teenagers. "NOOO, no me gusta veduuuurrraaas. Son horrrriiibles!" (I don't like vegetables. They're horrible!). "Estoy abuuuurrrriiido." (I'm bored). And the like. It's hard living with a six year old that you cannot discipline in any way, due to the language/culture barrier, yet who tags after you, and whom you are expected to entertain. She's a cute little girl, whom we are pleased to take to the park or the beach now and then, but as I may have previously mentioned, I did not come to Peru to be a live-in babysitter.
I'm fed uuupp! Eveeeryone bugger oooff! I want some peeaace and priiivaaacy!!!
Blimey I hear this eleventy-teen times a day here in Catford.