Classroom Evaluations

Just got an eval. today--a classroom evaluation. I dunno why; it's been well over a year since I've had one of them. It usually means you're either new to the school, or that students have complained about you.

Mind you, this happened in my high school class...the same one that failed half their tests, whose book no one told me how to teach, and for whom I've had to slam my fist on many a desk when they decided to answer their phone in class. So they might indeed have something to complain about.

What really strikes me is how little I am able to care about this. Might've upset and/or worried me once...nowadays, though, I just can't muster the energy. I guess it's final proof that I've really just become that sort of bitter middle-aged woman who bitches a lot and doesn't give a crap about anything.

One good thing, though, is that evals mean the term is drawing to a close. YAY unpaid term break!!

Rats

Rats have always been all around me. When I was in the US, I used to breed pet rats--and I promise you they are some of the most wonderful pets anyone can own. Now that I live in Cambodia, I always see them nosing through the garbage, squished on the streets, or jumping into holes as I walk past. One time, I left my kitchen window open, and one got in and started eating the flour and rice. That was how I learned to keep my window closed.

There are even rats at my school. But these rats are a bit more vicious--they're people. People who rat out other teachers. There's one guy in particular who, despite the fact that I like him personally, has just made everyone's life a lot harder.

Now, before I start this tirade, I should probably state my own position: I'm a hard-hearted bitch who doesn't care about other people or what they do. I care about doing my job, and giving the students under my care the best education I can. Admittedly, with thyroid disease "my best" has been minimal; with my own lack of English education, I am hardly well-qualified to do my job. Some days, it's hard for me to show up early. I'm usually 5 or 10 minutes behind in most things, including starting (and finishing!) class. I can't help this; I move in slow motion. Moreover, someone's constantly adjusting the clocks at the schools I teach at, making it impossible to know the real time.

That said, I certainly do not show up 15 minutes late and end 30 minutes early, and I never will. Apparently, though, some teachers do this, and this has set off the person I have referenced above.

He put up a big stink when he noticed that one teacher didn't show up for class one day but still counted everyone present.

My first reaction: That self-indulgent loser. Who cares, I'm not sick and starving anymore.

His first reaction: *calls our boss and tries to have her fired and her pay taken away*

He's also done this with folks who smoke marijuana and/or drink alcohol before class, or haven't graded papers, etc. Now, I don't blame the guy for being upset. That behavior is reprehensible and frankly embarrassing to me personally as a Western, English-speaking expatriate. It makes life harder for me when I have to explain over and over again that I'm not a slut or stoner. I might criticize the individual to his/her face for their bad behavior, but no way would I take it to the administration.

Why? Well read my prior post about social injustice security. Since 1994, no English teacher in this school has received a raise, and yes, some of them have been working here that whole time. We receive no benefits. If we get sick or injured, we're screwed. If higher-ups get sick, the school pays their leave and their medical bills--in addition to the raises I am sure they give themselves.

Do I care if someone rips off the system? My personal disgust at such individuals' behavior aside, no I do not. If the school doesn't want human refuse teaching their classes, stop treating us like human refuse. It's that simple. Give us benefits and pay us higher wages, and I promise you will have a wide selection of qualified, rule-abiding teachers to chose from.

I feel compelled to rant here, because now letters have gone around to all the staff reminding us to be absolutely punctual. The admin guys also now have to check in on us in every class to make sure we "showed up", and they're now required to mark down everyone who deviates by even a minute so our pay can be reduced. Everyone's life just got a lot harder, and the underlying corruption just became even more enforced.

That was so petty and small-minded I could scream.

Social Security--or--the Reality of Teaching in a Third World Country

This Sunday, I spent the afternoon at a benefits-BBQ with my coworkers and my friend Thearea. Ten dollars for a plate of food and you too could be part of a meaningful contribution towards combating the suffering of mankind.

You probably would like to know what benefits we were funding. Food for homeless Cambodians? School supplies for some orphanage? Proceeds for a new church/school/hospital in the provinces?

Nope.

All proceeds went to our co-worker Geoff, who, like me, is a Western expatriate. Geoff had a fall teaching class and badly broke his arm. In the hospital, he managed to contract a spinal infection (drat those unsanitary conditions) and is now lying in hospital bed in a state of abject misery and pain, unable to resume work.

He's been out for over a month. Given that employees are paid hourly, and not according to a salary, he hasn't earned money in over a month. Given that we're paid monthly, even if he resumed tomorrow, he still wouldn't be paid for quite a while. Given that none of us receive benefits of any kind, he's screwed.

Apparently, he's burned through all his savings, and is now unable to pay his rent, food, and especially not the hospital bill. And this is a country where they don't treat you if you can't pay.

The school, of course, won't pay anything, despite the fact that his accident happened on their property, despite the fact that one of the administrators got 3 months paid leave and $3000 to pay for an operation in Singapore when he got sick. (I wish I got 3 months paid leave when I was sick for months. Lord knows I needed it far more than some overpaid bureaucrat whose daddy got him the job). I cannot let another human being suffer as I have done--I was there at the BBQ with as many friends as I could muster (in my case, I only have one friend...that's 100% anyway!). Thanks, [school of employment]...I'm definitely not going to wear my nametag now.

Well, this is the reality of 3rd world countries--there is no social security except for those who have wrested it for themselves through aggression and corruption. The rich get richer, the rest of us have to look out for ourselves. Our only security is family, friends, and savings enough to pay the hospital to treat you.

Maybe now you can understand why I am forever bringing up my paranoid financial issues in my blog.

PS--AMERICAN RIGHT WING, I AM TALKING TO YOU. BENEFITS FOR WORKERS ARE VERY IMPORTANT, AND BE GLAD YOUR TAXES ARE GOING TO THE TREASURY, NOT STRAIGHT INTO SOME CORRUPT OFFICIAL'S POCKET.

The Unsettling Incident at 90 Meat Product

I was not having a very good day. I was very hungry, and there were no donuts in the donut-case when I walked in to school that morning. Due to female problems, my abdomen really, really hurt. The Nametag Guy was spouting off obnoxiously elaborate accolades to all the teachers as they came in for work. Class was moving ever more slowly as the morning wore on.

I knew that the supermarket down the road could solve all my problems (except for the Nametag Guy), so I resolved to go there during my 15 minute break.

Upon walking in, I saw that the food aisle was blocked by other customers, so I took a more circuitous route, looking at All The Pretty Things as I walked. My eyes rested upon a coloring book in one of the aisles, and as I stopped to examine it, her eyes rested on me.

A little girl, the owners' 8-year-old daughter, had followed me down the aisle, stopped 3 feet away from me, and was now watching me examine the coloring book. I passed her a glance, being perfectly used to things like this. Feeling a little awkward, I continued walking, rounded the corner and walked up the next aisle, then down the next one.

By that time, I was in the food aisle, and tried to decide what I wanted to eat today. Then I saw that the little girl had materialized at the end of the aisle, again. It was apparent she was following me.

I'm pretty used to being stared at on account of my black and white hair. I'm also pretty used to small children following me around, begging for (sometimes demanding) money. Sadly, I'm also aware that a lot of store employees follow me around--I guess making sure that the obviously drug-addicted barang isn't going to steal expensive things and sell them to fuel her drug addiction (I seriously don't know why else multiple employees in every store would follow me to the extent they do; no one else seems to have this trouble). But today, it looked like I was getting all three rolled into one.

Being intently watched made it difficult to choose what I wanted to buy. I gave up and walked to the next aisle, looking for feminine hygiene products.

And there she stood at the end of the aisle.

Getting really annoyed by now, I raised my eyebrows at her to affect a questioning-but-annoyed look. There was no real response. Choosing my product, I went back to the previous aisle and tried to select some cookies.

...And then:

She left me no choice...I had to do something about this highly awkward situation. As kindly and sweetly as possible, I asked what it was that she wanted from me. Strangely, given her keen powers of observation, she seemed not to know what to say, and fumbled for words for a long time. It was rather strange.

Then she disappeared around the corner.

But it leaves me wondering, What did she want from me? Why do store employees always follow me? Do I look that much like a thief? Why couldn't the school just serve donuts today?

I chose a box of Chips Ahoy, paid at the front, and got the heck out of 90 Meat Product.

A Stereotype?

Today, the landlady tried to accuse me of not locking the front gate when I come back "late at night". Given that I generally stagger back home at 7:30 pm, exhausted, roll into a ball trying to ease the stiffness of my hypothyroid muscles, and never go out again, and that I always re-lock the front gate when I find it locked, I must say I took real offense to that.

Why? Because she blamed me first, and that makes me feel like I'm falling prey to some ridiculous stereotype: ALL foreigners stay out late partying all the time and come back late and carelessly don't lock things.

Central Phnom Penh can actually be kind of a rough neighborhood, and there are these drug dealers/addicts that pool around the alleyway out front after hours. If you leave the gate unlocked, they can get inside the apartment complex and do random stuff (honestly, I'm not sure what they could possibly do that's so bad, except make noise I guess).

Anyway, there were words. Why should I be the one she blames?

Prevent Animals from Flying around Your Apartment! Get a Screen!

Two months after moving into my new place, it is finally finished. Today, some guys came by and put a screen over my ventilation window. Now the mosquitoes can't get in as much, nor can the geckos, which like to sit on the wall and poop onto my things. I can finally host guests at my place once more!

It was kind of strange, though. I had someone call a business that puts screens over ventilation windows; they had to come by to measure the window and I had to hide so that they didn't see me as a money-laden white person and overcharge me.

Then, this weekend, two fourteen-year-old kids came to my apartment with a metal frame. They then proceeded to comandeer my apartment in order to physically put the screen (like an actual roll of metal screening) in the frame. They hadn't brought anything to cut the screen with, so they had to use my only kitchen knife.

Then they proceeded to try to put it on, except that they didn't have a ladder. What kind of home-improvement business doesn't have a ladder? They tried to argue that they should put it on the inside of the window (which, to me, is ugly and can let outside debris build up on the sill). Anyway, progress was temporarily impeded while we searched around for a ladder from the neighbors and/or landlady.

Anyway, $35 will get you one of these for your ventilation window:

Prevent Dengue Fever! Get a screen!

Now that everything is all in order, I'm going to clean this place up and try to show you some pics of the apartment I have re-awsomed with my own hands and ingenuity.