The Problem with People

So I have to perform an open class ballet.  It's obviously not the dancing kind; but it requires jumping through a thousand proverbial hoops.

I was in a couple of practice classes today (as a foreigner I am incapable in everything I do, so half a dozen practice classes must be performed in order to reach acceptable standards) that entailed me being told to do something, then being told off for doing it.  Luckily I only have to perform this charade with one teacher.

Unluckily that particular teacher is a bag of nerves and emotion, who is struggling to contain it all.  If I hear of a murder-suicide spree at the weekend, I will know the perpetrator before the name is announced.

I am supposed to lead the class in English.  I have no problem with that, except the class has never been conducted in English before.  The kids are therefore bemused whenever I say something, because they've barely heard me speak up to this point.  The whole class is a lie, from the English speaking in class (which is nothing more than rote repetition in a normal class) through to my involvement in the teaching.  I am normally asked to stand still and do nothing, reciting a line on occasion.  The kind of job a robot will do in five years, and I'm certain robots are already doing my job in the private education sector.  Pointless doesn't cover it.

I have no problem being pointless, my work-related stress levels are somewhere below those of a pharmaceutical opiate tester - but I do object to the lies this particular teacher is feeding to those involved.  She knows I have no involvement in class, the students know, I know, yet she insists that we try to make it look like we're equals.

We're not.  On any level.

Couple this with a severe hormone imbalance, and the two practice classes were disastrous.

Considering how little this means to me, I feel she has a lot of work to do.  Have fun with that, woman who needlessly kept me for four hours unpaid overtime in the past two weeks.

Also of note - I am working in comprehensive schools.  Three of them.  My lesson plans were written by a man who thinks 'thru,' is the correct spelling for 'through.'

Needless to say, I end up re-writing most of the plans.  Perfect, my lessons are not.  An adventure into the unknown worlds of English teaching; they most certainly are.

Oh, and the kiwis to be fifty points clear of the japanese team come full time.