A sign of the times

Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe I'm just irritable. Or even plain impatient.

I speak of the mentality of the kids I teach. Particularly the one older pupil that I give private lessons to. I guess the kids at school are young enough to ask questions that annoy me. But my private student doesn't seem to use common sense or his initiative at all.

Yesterday's lesson was a prime example: I set him an exercise, and he wrote something that was wrong and crossed it out to correct himself. He turned to me and asked if it mattered that he had crossed out an answer on the page. Bear in mind that these lessons are essentially informal, in that I pretty much decide on the spot what areas are going to be covered in the hour that I'm paid to take charge of this boy. Now also consider that this boy comes along to my flat, uses my paper (because he 'forgets' to bring an exercise book/pad of paper of his own every week), and my pens to write with, and he asks if it matters that there's a crossing out on the page. I'm all for neat work, but come on! There is a rather large grey area when it comes to how one gauges neatness.

So the kid isn't big on making his own decisions. Not exactly a big deal, you may think. But then there's the frustration of him being reluctant to actually think for himself during this hour that he is with me.

I set him something to gauge what he knows and doesn't know, and explain that he just has to give it a go so that I don't tell him something that he already knows - what's the point of that? But because I term some things differently to the text book he uses at school, he assumes he's never done it. And for the record, I usually do the first one as an example to show him, so he can see what he has to do.

So I leave him to it while I go potter about with coffee/coke/juice etc. I come back, he tells me he's finished, and he's not even attempted it half the time, prompting a conversation (in French) along the lines of:

Him: I'm not sure I'll get it right.
Me: You pay me to tell you if you've got it right or not. And if not, I'll explain it to you so that you know in future.
Him: But I'm not sure.
Me: Try. You learn more like that, than from being told what to do with you having made no effort.

And so he gives it a go. And eight times out of ten, he's bang on the mark.

So is it shyness? Laziness? A genuine fear of being wrong? Or maybe he's trying too hard and making it more complicated than it actually is? Whatever it is, I'm struggling to find a way to get him to work things out for himself. Why make it simply a lesson in English when I can teach him lifelong skills (namely multitasking) at the same time? Thinking and working are generally considered to go together anyway, aren't they?

It takes two to tango

The other night I watched Crash for what must be the fifth or sixth time since I bought it on DVD. I also saw it at the cinema when I was living in France two years ago as a late showing as it had won the Oscar for Best Picture.

What surprises me about the film is I find myself sympathising with different characters each time I watch it. There is something that makes me despise the subject content of the film, but at the same time, it is something that has been addressed with sensitivity and attention to both sides of the story. Look at the plotline on the part of Anthony/Peter. Anthony portrays himself as the typically opressed black man, expecting to be discriminated against because of his skin colour. Peter takes a more optimistic view, suggesting that Anthony is being oversensitive. When we are first introduced to these two characters, I'm inclined to sympathise with Peter rather than Anthony. Anthony is simply feeling sorry for himself and because of the history of black people, he simply lives up to the stereotypes associated with his race. Especially when he and Peter then carjack Sandra Bullock and Brendan Fraser's characters.

At this point the shoe is on the other foot. We are not sympathising at all with Anthony, and much less with Peter than before, until Sandra Bullock's near-monologue ranting about how as a white woman fearful of two black youths she feels the need to remain silent for fear of being labelled a racist should she cross the street or look the other way. This, in essence, totally backs up everything that Anthony has already said - particularly when Jean (Sandra Bullock) insists on the locks being changed yet again because the locksmith is not white. But he's not black either. And this really confuses me.

Where is the line drawn? When are the barriers constructed thanks to stereotypes going to be broken down? It is these persisting stereotypes that means the issue of racism persists. But one stereotypical image of racism is very very wrong: that which depicts a racist being white. A racist can just as easily be black. Just look at Anthony in 'Crash' and you'll see what I mean.

Broken suitcase, Broken faith

It's amazing how one little incident can put you off something for a while. After managing to hump my heavy suitcase on and off trains without so much as a relatively big knock, you'd think that big strong baggage handlers would manage to take care of it.

But, for the first time ever, I reclaimed a suitcase damaged to the extent that to use it again with an airline I will have to sign a liability disclaimer. Upon reporting the damage on my arrival in Nice last Friday, I was told that I have seven days to get someone in a suitcase-selling shop to sign and give me a certificate that my current suitcase is irreparable, and to buy a new one, then send the airline a bunch of paperwork, including said certificate.

Now, buying a new one is not a problem. I walk into the shop; I decide which one I want; I tell the man/woman; I pay for it; I take it home.

But how and where on earth do I get a certificate of irreparability? It's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a while - I mean if it wasn't damaged, surely the man at the airport who I complained to would have been able to tell me "You're wrong there love, there's nowt wrong with it"?? The fact that he didn't (and he did inspect the damage) kind of presupposes that I'm not lying, does it not?

So now I'm in a quandary as to whether to bother pursuing a claim. The airline does point out that it's liability is limited and that I might be better off pursuing it through my own travel insurance instead. But for the sake of a suitcase, I'm not going to do that. What narks me is the principle that I can't take all my possessions on board with me, but by checking them in they're not safe. Granted, this has happened to hundreds of thousands of people over the past however-many-years-of-commercial-air-travel, but until it actually happens to you, it's hard to really imagine how much it actually pisses you off.

Needless to say, I'll be avoiding this airline at every opportunity in future.

And so it is...

...Just like they said it would be.

Well, almost. So I feel very much settled into my new (former) way of life. I even find myself smiling about things that would have seriously pissed me off this time last year. Although I'm frowning about things I've never had to worry about before (note previous post). But that aside, it's shaping up to be a pretty good end of year. I'm even starting to regret my haste in booking flights over the holidays. If I'd have hung in there a little longer, I may have done something a little different this year. But two weeks at home will not go amiss. Not by a long shot.

So today I was 'visited' as a means of seeing if I'm doing my job properly. Whilst receiving constructive criticism like a real trooper and taking on board suggestions to improve the structure of my lessons, I was not in the slightest amused at having the content of what I've been teaching questioned. And so I rather literally imploded in the staff room at school today, telling the woman (who I had never met before, despite her being my "main contact") very calmly (whilst going demented inside) that what I had taught is actually what we say in English. And in response she said "Well in the grammar books I teach with, it says this..."

Maybe it's just because of what I learnt about for the Linguistics part of my course at uni, but having something written down in black and white doesn't mean in any way that what you see is what you get. It could be that you never got nor never will get what is written before your eyes. How many times was there a mistake in a grammar book at school? Rules change. Not overnight, but they change. Stupid woman today was clearly ignorant of that fact.

And there we have it. The dampener to a good week. And that one lemon too many that could make this month really bitter.

Roll on the holidays. At least then I'll be with people who speak the way I do. And not from the rules they learnt in a book.

Arrested Development

So... developments Toulon end: my second American flatmate is moving out. She has been extremely underhand and sneaky about it all, I have to say, saying one thing when I'm around and then another to everyone else. She made out to me that she couldn't afford to keep living in this apartment, to which I was sympathetic given my own low monetary funds since I stopped receiving my student loan. Then she proceeded to tell me that she found it difficult to live with me sometimes because I give the impression that I want to be on my own and not to be disturbed. I asked for examples of occasions when this had happened, after apologising and stressing that it was not an intentional action, to which she replied: "Well, mainly during the week when you get in from school." Now, excuse me if my blatancy is in overdrive here, but isn't it completely normal that I want an hour or two to myself after being at school all day, having got up at 6.30am, left the apartment at 7.30am and started teaching at 8.30am? Needless to say, I got rather upset that she was insinuating that it was my behaviour that was leading her to move out whilst maintaining to me that the main factor is financial.

I then found out days later that her reasons for leaving that she had given to everyone else were in fact what she insinuated to me. She led our French flatmate/landlord to believe that we had argued, which he found rather strange because he finds me quiet and pleasant to live with (according to his girlfriend). I was asked if I could think of anything other than the reason she had already given me that might have made her mad with me, but I couldn't think of anything. Then, on Friday evening, K (another assistant) came around and she, H (French flatmate's girlfriend) and I think we worked it out. Turns out that she first mentioned moving out while I was at home during the holidays at the beginning of this month - which was just after the "rooting through my personal effects" incident, which I thought had been sorted immediately. Clearly it wasn't. So rather than respect and accept my displeasure at her having invaded my privacy, she took that and multiplied it ten-fold in her mind to the point where she believes I'm in a bad mood all the time.

Naturally, I beg to differ. Yes, I was unhappy before going home for that break during the holidays. But I came back refreshed and with a much better outlook on my time here than I had on the outward journey. And I completely refuse to let her tell people otherwise - if she can tell other people that there is a problem, then she can tell me. I was totally oblivious to my 'unsociable' behaviour. After the DVD incident, she knew full well that I am the type of person that prefers to air my feelings in certain respects. She clearly cannot handle my blunt, direct nature. And that, I'm afraid, is her problem, not mine. I did all I could to make her feel welcome and help her settle in, despite my own unease at the beginning of this experience. My efforts were clearly wasted.

On the upside, this weekend I attended the belated birthday party of one of the assistants and had lots of fun. And then on Saturday, I went to a semi-belated Thanksgiving dinner and had lots of fun helping with cooking the meal and getting into the Christmas spirit. I say Christmas spirit, as the whole day was identical to what Christmas Day is going to be like at home. I can't wait. It reminded me of what I like about Christmas: being around family and friends, having a good time and feeling happy. I was starting to become cynical as to whether the spirit of Christmas still existed, but thanks to this Thanksgiving I'm certain that it does. Now we just need to abolish the commercialism of Christmas, then the festivities will really have meaning for everybody. In that respect, I'm jealous that the British people don't celebrate Thanksgiving.

Refreshment Best Served Cold

And so having cracked and spent a week at home, beyond all (my own) expectations I came back. Unfortunately, I have hit a new low. Gone are the days of entering random URLs and seeing what appeared on the computer screen. Now it's all about the refresh icon, and counting how many times I have to click on it for something to change.

Another way to put it is, send an email/facebook message, then refresh every minute to see how long it takes for the correspondent to reply. In my case, it's an eternity. Not that I'm not grateful for a reply per sé, but in my boredom I find myself cursing people for having lives which causes their delay in replying.

I need to get a life. That's all there is to it. I am lifeless - socially speaking. I assure you all that I am actually alive in a medical sense (i.e. I'm not speaking from beyond the grave). But being skint and living in an expensive place takes its toll. And it's a choice between refreshing the computer screen, watching MTV programmes dubbed badly in French or watching Sky News (which I discovered is now part of our digital TV package upon my return to French land yesterday). As you can probably tell from the above, I choose option 1. Option 3 comes a close second, but hearing about the horrible things happening in the world in my mother tongue just makes me sink lower into the hole I've dug for myself (read: the hole I've formed in my chair in front of my computer).

I just wish that someone would give me a kick up the bum and get me doing something that needs doing. Applications for permission to foray into the world of employed people following this (up to now harrowing) experience need to be completed. I haven't even entered my name on a single one. Not that I have more than one to complete at the moment. I dream of applying for six jobs, in the hope that at least one establishment will take me on.

Reality is, I'm just too happy to click Refresh. As you may be doing now in the hope that what you're reading suddenly turns into something interesting.

Save the world, and my bank balance at the same time

I'm not the biggest of environmentalists. Not at all. But I do use my common sense when it comes to enviromental issues. So silly pointless tasks like leaving the lights on when nobody's home and letting the water run while cleaning my teeth are just not done.

But these tasks are not seen to be quite so nonsensical to others. Apart from the monetary cost of leaving a light on for two hours while one goes into town, leaving the flat empty(albeit an energy saving light bulb, but it's the principle that matters here), there is the damage those two hours of wasted energy is having on the environment when there is no justification for it. Why light up a whole apartment for the amusement of passers-by outside? Let's create our own interpretation of the Blackpool Illuminations, each and every one of us.

It's all well and good to be shocked at the effects climate change is having on our planet, but acting to do something to attempt to counteract it has to be taken as seriously. I just find that many people who criticise energy waste etc. are the front-runners in terms of the size of their carbon footprint. When will they learn that putting glass bottles in a special bin does not equate to immediate action to save the planet?

Recycling is a long-term process; turning off the lights is in the here and now. How much does really it take to flick a switch and immerse a room in darkness?