"Invigilating"

Here's yet another example of ways our school is "improving" itself.  

For the last 18 months, I've given my students 2 or 3 exams per term.  I arrange the desks so that it's difficult for them to cheat, and I keep a strict watchful eye on them.  I've failed students before for checking answers on cell phones.  I've always administered my own exams and graded them as fairly as possible.

A day before our most recent exam, we were informed that it was pushed back a week.  All exams had to be turned in so that they could be destroyed and the team leaders (who create the exams) were forced to create new ones over night.  (They were paid for it, just fyi.)  So, thousands upon thousands of leaves of paper were sent back and destroyed, and the students were kept in a state of high nerves for a week.

Then we were informed that we were no longer allowed to watch our own students; instead we would "invigilate" another teacher's class.  It might sound simple when I write it, but doing this actually involves a level of paperwork and protocols too complex for me to easily explain here.

We weren't allowed to give the exams back to the regular teacher directly, but instead we had to give them to the front desk so that three separate administrators could count how many exams we had turned in.  We had already been instructed to count the exams ourselves and write the total on the front of the envelope.  During exams, the office staff was required to check in on us every 5 minutes or so.

All of this was apparently because a new administrator is so afraid of someone cheating that he destroyed all the old exams and instituted all these new rules.

Truly, I do not understand how the school can afford to waste all that paper but can't afford to give us easy access to basic supplies like ink, markers, and pay raises.  I am furthermore insulted by the implication that I do not know how to do my own job--it's an awfully disdainful attitude not to trust a teacher to watch his or her own classroom adequately.  My students are treated equitably and do not cheat.  End of story.

I actually forgot the exams for a week, since the office couldn't immediately give them back to me last Friday.  I just went home and...well, out of sight, out of mind.

As my colleagues have been quick to point out, this is Khmer Rouge thinking--excessive bureaucracy, students watching teachers, admin watching teachers, and teachers watching teachers.  It's a tactic used to divide and subdue, and I'm not certain why it's necessary in our case.  The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing; extreme waste and senselessness are thought to improve society.

Everyone in charge of the school came of age during the Khmer Rouge, so they really know what they're doing in this case.

I'll tell you what.  I'm going to do a lot of reading about the Pol Pot era.  I've already got his biography; I'll just read every good piece of bootleg literature that comes my way.  After I have mastered the Khmer language, I will begin synthesizing the information and publishing my own works on the Khmer Rouge era.  I will become the pre-eminent scholar on this topic, because I have insights that others in the field do not--I know first hand how it feels, having working under a Khmer Rouge-styled system for years.  I am coming to understand the mentality in the ways that most Westerners do not.

GOLD STAR FOR ME.

Taking Leave

Don't worry, I'm not dead.

Actually, it's the opposite.  I've been feeling so good over the last month that I haven't felt the need or desire to write--I'd completely forgotten how much energy I used to have and how happy I generally felt before thyroid disease.  LOL.

Anyway, I've got another tale of bureaucratic ridiculousness coming up, and there probably will be yet another before the term is out.  So brace yourself for that--it's not negativity, it's my way of making fun.

It's actually reached the point that I am taking a semi-Sabbatical.  Not the bureaucratic ridiculousness...just teaching six hours a day in general.  I'm so burnt out with teaching the same old classes day in and day out.  I'm also sick of traipsing across town through knee deep rainwater after a downpour (it's rainy season till November).  This week, I got an infection in an open wound on my foot from the dirty water--NO MORE.

So I've signed up for only two classes next term, in the morning, just as a way of getting myself out of bed and paying for room and board.  I'm going to do all the fun stuff I always wanted, but was too sick to do:

• Take a Khmer course at the Royal University!
• Join a gym!
• Learn to drive a motorbike!
• Paint pictures of stuff!
• Volunteer at an orphanage!
• Discover all the good restaurants in town!
• Look for new employment!
• Properly plan courses!
• Try to eat a better diet!
• Host couch surfers!
• Travel around the country!
• Not worry about making my 3:30 class on time if I fall asleep!
• ET CETERA!!!

It'll be awesome, as long as I don't get sick again (I am mindful of the fact that last time I made plans, I contracted my thryoid infection).

Another Work-Related Diatribe

I'd sort of promised myself after my last work-related entry that I was going to stop complaining about work.  I know it's starting to get annoying (and I also know I'm expected to write about rainbows and pony-farms and bubbling syrupy goodness about the awesomeness that is Cambodia.  Not diatribes).  I understand that.  I really do.  I know you're tired of hearing about it, but in light of this week's events, I feel it is necessary to give an accurate picture of the realities of teaching English in Cambodia.

In most normal institutions world-wide, it is considered normal to give class evaluations at the end of the term--not smack in the middle of it.   I was unpleasantly surprised this Wednesday, then, when I was unceremoniously booted out of each of my classes (in the middle of a lesson!) for mid-term evaluation purposes.  All the more so considering that in my particular institution, it was only at the end of last term that evaluations were given at all.

I was furthermore unnerved on Thursday when a member of admin decided I needed a "surprise inspection".  Unnerved, and even insulted.  She sat in on my class for 40 minutes to take notes on my every movement.

Now, I don't want to be the whiner here, but I have to say I don't think much of these evaluations.  I have had the misfortune of seeing the questions on it, and they are about basic matters of procedure (Does your instructor dress properly?  Does your instructor come on time?  Does your instructor assign homework?).  Nowhere is it asked if the course content is OK, or how the instructor could improve the teaching of the course.  In other words, the evaluations are not that helpful.

Moreover, the feedback can be downright insulting.  I received very bad marks on my last evaluation, to be honest.  Now I personally can't take this stuff seriously at all (I literally threw my evaluation in the trash, so I don't even remember what it said) but some people really took theirs hard.  One instructor was in a rage because one hater had circled all 1s (on a scale of 1-5).  Another got even worse marks than me and was almost in tears and considered quitting his job entirely.

Virtually everyone was dissatisfied.

Why we're now being evaluated and inspected (and insulted) twice per term, I don't know; but I can tell you that it's not doing anything good for morale.  In my case, you will be unsurprised to hear, it's only succeeding in building an adversarial relationship between me and the administration and, worse, between me and my students.  It's hard NOT to think of people as adverseries when they exist solely to judge you and/or control your efforts.

I said as much to a co-teacher while I waited outside during an evaluation.  She is quite involved in school politics and informed me that the president has basically gone off the deep end and won't listen to reason.

AND WAIT TILL I TELL YOU ABOUT EXAMS.

We have a famous writing program, which is probably our institution's major appeal to potential students.  We teach them how to write academic English.  Exams are consequently geared towards grading their ability to construct intelligible sentences, use grammar accurately, and write acceptable paragraphs.

This does make it a pain in the ass to grade exams, that's true.  But grading them by hand is preferable to the totally unjustified method that will soon be in place:  We're now being ordered to give multiple-choice exams.  That's right, students can sit next to each other and fill in a bubble sheet to prove they know how to "write English".  I can stand there trying to prevent five rows of eyes from copying off their neighbors' bubble sheets.   Yes, they can prove to me their ability to use English grammar and write coherently with a multiple choice exam.  That's right.

The exams will be graded by the scan-tron that the president (who has never taught a class in his life) just invested in to make us "more competitive".  We can watch the $10 000 machine grade our exams while sipping water from the $3 000 purifier, all the while searching for ink for our markers and complaining about our paychecks that haven't risen since 1994.

You heard me.

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.

Happy Birthday

If for any reason any of my readers happen to have a birthday today, they should know that I wish them a happy one.

My Little Bounty Hunters

In this part of the world, we get a dengue fever outbreak every few years, and we're well-overdue for another.  As near as I can understand, dengue fever is the worst possible thing that can happen--worse than the flu, worse than a car accident, worse than losing a million dollars, worse than death.

It's spread by day mosquitoes (aedes aegyptii), which exist in abundance in the classrooms.

I've instituted a new rule--anyone who kills a mosquito and shows me the body gets a free point on the next exam.  It's called the "Good Citizen Bonus Point" for protecting public welfare.  It's the only thing I can think to do about the mosquitoes.

I'm dead serious about the bonus points, too.

The Teachers' Meeting

School is back in session today.  The previous day, we had a mandatory teachers' meeting...because none of us have anything better to do on our days off than haul our asses in before 8am for a four hour meeting that could easily be compressed into a 25-minute bullet-pointed presentation.

I mean that every bit as insultingly as I have written it.

Every term, we have a teachers' meeting, and every term we review the same material.  Every term, it's mandatory to show up for 2 hours on our days off.

This term's meeting had some new ideas, which it compensated for by doubling in length and stupidity.

First, nearly every speaker is from admin, and everyone knows everyone else.  We, the teachers, all know the speakers as well.  You can see how it's retarded, then, that nearly every speaker spends the first 5 minutes of his/her allotment of 15 minutes rambling on various accolades toward the other speakers in attendance:

I wish, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, to truly thank my wonderful supervisors...as well as my glorious colleagues...and each and every one of the teachers gathered here today for this opportunity to speak.  I give my highest regards to the most esteemed President of the University.  I likewise give my regards to the Dean for Student-Teacher Relations, the Administrator for Studen Affairs, the Head Dean, and the Vice-Head Dean.  On this most glorious of occasions, I hope to find each of you in the best of health, for it is today that we commence..." blah blah blah, stfu already.  

Even in my punctilious adherence to proper conduct and protocols, I find this attitude to be an extremely difficult-to-accept part of the the culture.  If this were directed outwards during a formal occasion, I could understand that...Yeah, this is a frickin TEACHERS' MEETING.  Just like all the others.

Moreover, Khmer rhetorical style follows that the sort of narration that Westerners usually associate with lecturing small children on "safety"--theatrical, drawn-out, and utterly condescending.  It hammers the same points over and over again.

Add that to starting late (I walked in 25 minutes late and it hadn't begun yet) and you can see why this turned into a five hour meeting.

Some of the monkeyshine highlights:

• Administrator X rather bluntly blamed the entire teaching staff for the school's lower enrollment numbers.  He told us that we weren't making our classes a "happy" place to be, and therefore students are dropping out.  Yes, I'm sure that's the only factor here--the teacher's personality.*  
• One recently-promoted co-teacher blathered on for 90 minutes a "humble story" about the awesomeness of his teaching.  He had been allotted 15 minutes.  You know, it was only funny when Qaddafi did this.
• Apparently, the biggest complaint on the survey (the one they administered during our exam time) was about teachers coming late and leaving early.  (Now I know his ratting was connected to the surveys we endured!)  This was closely followed by complaints about bitchy impatient teachers (glad I'm not the only one).
• The President of the University was quick to add that no surveys had actually been distributed during the exam (implying I'm somehow lying in my earlier entry).
• One administrator made the mistake of asking the teachers what the admin can do to improve learning resources.
• Volunteer:  We'd like access to basic supplies, like erasers, markers, and ink.  *mass cheering and clapping*
• Administrator:  That's out of the question!  That's far too expensive for us to afford.  I mean, what other things can we do?  Do you recommend any textbooks?
• Volunteer 2:  How come we can afford text books, but not basic teaching supplies?  I don't understand how it works!
• Admin:  Well, we get donations from the American Embassy.
• Me:  *You mean we can dictate to the American Embassy which textbooks we get?  What are you guys doing with that $40 hike in tuition fees?*
• Admin: *Shoots down every other suggestion the teachers make*
• Apparently, we are now expected to elect a "class leader" amongst the students who will do homework checks for us.  He will collect a "Homework Portfolio" of assignments that the teacher has assigned throughout the term to turn into administrators--so that it proves teachers are actually assigning homework.  My ass.

I wasn't paying attention to most of it, because I got bored, pulled out my laptop, and started reading an E-book about Hitler instead.  Because reading about a genocidal dictator is more fun than sitting through five hours of that.  One thing for sure is, I'm ain't assigning no "Homework Portfolio".

-----

*Actually, I'm sure that students are moving their business to ACE, which, since the aforesaid tuition hikes, is only $20 more expensive than our institution, but the staff is paid double what we are and the quality is therefore a million times higher.

More Rats!

"I smell a rat" is a particularly apt phrase--I smelled the rat before I saw it.

Literally.

There's apparently a rat that gets into my apartment at nights. It's a young rat, small enough to fit through the gap between the balcony door and the ground. It came in and totally trashed my apartment. It knocked the trash bin over, ate my hedgehog's food, and formed a small nest behind the furniture. Having kept them as pets in the past, I know exactly what they smell like, which is why I was troubled when I caught a whiff of it.

I first saw him one night when I couldn't sleep, nosing around my table and examining things. I kicked him out and blocked the space underneath the door, but the damn thing is like Wiley Coyote--it keeps finding ways to get in. We're currently engaged in a battle of wits.

Like I've said, I've kept rats before, so it's not especially upsetting to me. It's just interested in my trashcan and crumbs.

Nonetheless, I don't want either the hedgehog or myself to contract its fleas.

Thearea says rats are a problem for virtually everyone in Cambodia...and that a cat is the best defense.

Looks like I'm getting a new pet sometime soon.

Pictures from My Domestic Life

I am painfully aware that you do not care about my domestic life. And why should you care about my domestic life? It's not like you're some kind of creepy stalker who likes to sit behind the computer screen and take careful notes on the bizarre entries that constitute my boring life...right?

Nonetheless, I told you I'd put up pictures of the apartment which I have re-crafted with my own cunning and ingenuity. It's very typical of apartments you find in Phnom Penh, so feast your eyes on all my stuff.

This is the kitchen. You may notice it's very small. The door leads to the bathroom.

If I bother to cook, I do it here. It's a 6 foot cube of compressed struggle when I do that, though. You know, the rats can get in through this window, so I have to remember to close it after I cook.

You may notice there's no sink in my bathroom (which is also a part of my bedroom).

It may look like a nice bed, but I own no sheets. Or blankets. Nor can you see all the epic naval battles and dinosaurs from this angle. Too bad.

If you step out of the bedroom, you find yourself in the hallway.

My other bed. The scarf in the window says, "Supreme". Because I am supreme.

I make no claim upon the wicker table and sofa nor do I own it's pillows. They belong to the landlady who told me I'd die if anything bad happened to them. Exactly what I wanted! The rest of it I bought, though.

A terrible idea.

The "other chair" and "other table" and "other shelves". They serve no purpose, they just take up room so I don't feel neurotically empty and lonely.

The view from my balcony.

And what apartment would be awesome without an upstairs?

Lol, a stand for a small shrine. It was covered with mud when I first came.

My other other bed. You can sleep here. You may notice the ghetto-style screen covering the ventilation window. I made it myself, since they were just going to throw the unused screening away. NO MOSQUITOES SHALL ENTER.

The "gross bathroom". There are two shower heads, and the water heater doesn't actually work.

You get a view from the upstairs.

Feel free to disagree, but I think it's awesome.

Oh, and...you just wasted 3.5 minutes of your life. XD

This Is What Insanity Looks Like

Well, they've gone and done it this time.

Today is exam day for my evening class. Students have exactly 90 minutes to come in, sit down, and fill out 5 pages of English. I show up early to arrange the desks in such a configuration that it's less easy to cheat.

Today, just as I was about to distribute the exam, I got a knock on the door. A courrier came in, telling me it was time for student evaluations.

Now, that particular class happens to be a rather weak class, and a low-elementary level. Given that I have 3 other classes, all of which are very advanced, I have real problems remembering to recalibrate my English to a lower level, especially when I'm tired and hungry. I'm a bit peevish in there, too. So, in all, not the class I'd want them to evaluate--especially not during their very limited exam time!

Our argument went something like this:

Me: NO, you can't evaluate my students! They're taking a test! Get out of here!

Him: Teacher, it's from central admin. We have to evaluate the students.

Me: Why didn't you come last Thursday? During March, like the announcement says? What's wrong with you people?

Him: Please, teacher, we just need 10 minutes...

Me: This is completely stupid!

Him: Just 10 minutes!

Me: Fine, you have 10 minutes. Then I'm coming back.

I went out into the hallway. Eleven minutes later, I barged into my classroom. "Your ten minutes is up! Gimme my classroom back."

Him: Please teacher, 5 minutes more. Your students are late.

Me: THEY NEED TO TAKE THE EXAM. Look, I'm not angry at you, but I need to do my job now!

Him: You can just stay 15 minutes late!

Me: Would YOU want to stay 15 minutes late?

Him: ...No, I wouldn't.

So I stood in the doorway, boring my eyes into his back while he finished the evaluation--which, with my presence there, he managed to do in about 90 seconds.

After the exam, I went downstairs where there was a massive uproar in the teachers lounge. This apparently happened to EVERYONE, and we were all exchanging stories.

The guy who had ratted out the other teacher was most upset of all, and was railing off about Cambodian stupidity. I asked the guy him why he thought this was happening. He had no idea, but I cannot shake the suspicion it might actually have originated from his ratting--when admin caught wind of it, they decided to put up a test to see who's really been doing their jobs and who has not.

And THAT, my readers, is what they call "Bullshit".

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.

Bats Are Scary

This got into my apartment the other night. It only illustrates why I need to get a screen put over the ventilation window at the top.