Good People Die in May

Six years ago during this month, I attended the funeral of my grandmother in Phoenix.  On my birthday, depressingly enough.  She had died a week earlier.

I am sorry to report that this week my family is attending the funeral of my other grandmother...she passed away a week after my birthday.

May is a good month to be born, and also to die.  Rest in Peace my favoritest grandparent ever!



*Due to family tensions, and being in Cambodia, I will not be attending the funeral.

About that...

Remember last week's rant about my school's new system of electing students?  Today, our duly elected Class Presidents and Vice Presidents are supposed to attend a meeting with the founder and president of the school.  He is an ex-ministry official.  Good thing none of us ever instituted the "class officers" policy.  (Mind you, we couldn't have even if we wanted to--how do you explain the democratic process to entry-level English learners who've never had a fair election in their lives?)

I have not been informed of the meeting's agenda, nor do I care to find out.  This whole thing is a thorn in my side.

Looks like I was right, though, about it being an attempt at keeping an eye on the teachers.  This is just so sad I don't even know why I blog about it.

The Panic Button

So, I've officially been unwell for 18 months...compounding this painful reality is the fact that today, the 15th of May, I officially enter my 30th year of existence.

In addition to the fact that women are officially branded "old" at the end of this year--and I am a woman--I have also become painfully aware in recent months of how little a foundation I really have in life.  I have no money; I've built no career.  My family is fraying away on the opposite side of the planet.  I feel like I screwed something up somewhere along the way, but I'm too distraught by the passage of time to know what it is.

I wish I had another 10 years to figure out what I wanna be when I grow up.  There are about ten years' worth of stuff I still wanna do (teach English on the commune, learn Chinese and Khmer and Arabic, spend a summer at World Fellowship Center, stop Climate Change, go on safari, and establish global dominion), and I still feel like I'm about 20.  Don't you think it's fair that I should get an extra ten years of "stasis" after which I can finally turn 30?  The flow of time is starting to freak me out.  Big time.

REALITY, WHY WON'T YOU BEND TO MY WILL???

(To the time machine!)

WTF?

It seems as though I will never stop complaining about my job, I know, but I'm fairly incensed today.  Read it and weep.  I certainly did:

 

I had to censor some of it out; does it seem like an attempt to keep an eye on the teachers to you as much as it does to me?  Or more accurately, an ill-conceived waste of time.  At least, it would...if any of us could actually tell what the hell we're supposed to do. 

I teach 6 hours every day, and correct the sentences of 90 students on at least two days of the week.  That is completely above and beyond the call of duty; most teachers won't even do that.  Some even deride me for my Eager Beaver attitude.  And here I'm being told how to administer my class while being issued directives to grade 90 MORE papers twice a week, all while working on 1994 wages. 

This is NOT what will make us competitive with ACE.