Weekends only postpone the inevitable

What lurks behind that portal?

A friend just posted something about teaching a something something workshop on Saturday. As much as I respect and have genuine affection for this friend, I do find myself questioning his sanity. See, he’s at the point where he could decline and could possibly assign the work to others. Although, as I said I respect this man and I respect that he wants the work done right. But Saturdays!?!

There are reasons classrooms and offices have doors – so you can close them tightly – because doors are portals that must be physically shut and mystically sealed against annoyances and nonsense which needs not have purchase in our times of rejuvenation and regeneration – in other words, don’t screw with my free time. I’ve worked a lot of Saturdays and a frightening number of Sundays; I’ve done it for money, for friendship and for escape. I’ve done it out of loyalty, out of desperation, out of necessity, and until I was out of my mind. If you can manage to avoid it: through negotiation, compromise, intimidation or guile; Saturday needs to become sacrosanct. It needs to be set aside, untouched, pure and unsullied by schedules, calendars, watches and social media reminders.

On Friday afternoon you close what needs to be closed, hide whatever evidence that your work actually ended on Tuesday around 11:30 – and run- don’t walk. You will actually feel care slip away – like oversize footwear. As distance and time grow, 200 meters and/or 30 seconds sounds about right – you may have only a vague recollection of what lurked behind that portal.

Saturday morning you awake, a temporary resident of an alternate reality. You may be suffering from trans-dimensional ‘ jet-lag’. Saturday afternoon is spent trying to remember some of Friday night. This disconnect doesn’t require any substance other than distance and actual enjoyment.

Sunday morning finds you still dimensionally detached, and this will last through the afternoon. This disconnect may last longer if you linger over brunch with a few friends. Adult beverages are optional.         … Eventually, around 7:00 pm you feel an ominous presence – some obscure and ancient warning that may cause some to feverishly plan a duvet-day escape plan- but it will only delay the inevitable.

Monday lurks, and it will arrive, like an elephant in musth, intent on trampling your tranquil oasis and befouling the waters of your serenity. You must face Monday with calm bemusement and feigned self-assurance. Monday will smirk knowingly. Don’t take it personally, that’s just how Mondays are.

Monday greets you at the door. It accepts your sneers generously and chortles as you capitulate, broken and sobbing, to the inevitable beginning. Your mandated 100% of effort is fueled and on deck. You suit up and wait for the go signal. Maybe today you’ll have the nerve to buzz the tower. As lunch approaches, you’re not sure if you can make it. Two o’clock seems so far away, and five is a dream left for the mad and newly employed. Somehow you make it, with only a little sweat and a few tears. Careful, Mondays feed on tear-stained dreams … and coffee-soaked anguish.

Tuesday is waiting and you’re there ready to give your full 70% – after all, you’re saving yourself for Wednesday. Be warned, if you managed to dodge Monday, Tuesday is quite prepared to emulate, imitate and stand-in for its much-maligned sibling. After all, that’s how weekdays are.

Wednesday is festive, zesty, and almost giddy. It’s a quiet giddiness that may occasionally titter and has been known to share a shy smile. Energy levels are neck and neck with productivity, cruising at about 50%, slowing for the occasional coughing fit or sarcastic chants of love for the company.

Thursday arrives, and your commitment to giving your full 30% is the only thing keeping your toes on the office side of the threshold. Your toehold on a fast dissolving reality isn’t really fooling anyone, but surely even a not quite halfhearted effort is appreciated.

You slip into Friday almost effortlessly. You even manage so remark,” I can’t believe it’s already Friday.” You then look around nervously just in case Thursday has overstayed its welcome. Friday, when even your shadow isn’t fully committed to being in the office, is a day both joyous and fraught with tension. You have to be light on your feet because extra work, unplanned meetings, and the dreaded question, “have you got any plans?” dwell just out of the corner of your eye. Move quietly. Don’t jingle keys, or slam doors, or linger at the copier. The clock, your watch, and the artfully inaccurate timer on your desktop all conspire to keep you at work longer than necessary. Certainly, it’s longer than the time required by human-decency and that provision of the Geneva Convention that applies to working-class heroes.

There is a sharp clang as the gates open. Your desk is done. Your bag was packed on Wednesday morning. You burn rubber leaving the parking lot – and you’re walking. The lingering beast snickers, but you don’t have time to care. You’re out.

Don’t work for the weekend. Work to stop the senseless waste of hours in the unending quest to appease the beast behind the portal.

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Happy St Patrick’s Day

Students see English as … a) Unnecessary b) A burden c) A strange, possibly alien, elective d) Something that interrupts naptime e) A chance to catch up on homework.

Happy St Patrick’s Day, unless you’re a snake. If you are a snake perhaps you see this day as something to be dreaded or you actually sneer at the ridiculous notion that you were driven out of anywhere. Do snakes sneer?
Truth be told, we’re not celebrating. Some people are, even here in Wuhan … just not us. That doesn’t mean we’re snakes, have any sympathy for snakes, or secretly in league with, in cahoots with, or otherwise compromised by … snakes.

Life is okay here. From time to time the classes can be more stressful than they need to be.
Students see English as … a) Unnecessary b) A burden c) A strange, possibly alien, elective d) Something that interrupts naptime e) A chance to catch up on homework.
We’re still training teachers through TEFL International but the current situation in Indonesia, with random checks and inconsistent rules, means running a course is more difficult than ever.
We have just cancelled this year’s June and July courses.

 

I should elaborate on my current state of discontent. The students are good, but the level of English isn’t. I have been pushing them to be more responsive, engaging them in ways that are unfamiliar to them, and generally having expectations that take both students and myself out of our comfort zones.

Students generally sit in a classroom and those in the back tune out.  I don’t teach from the front of the class, I move about and interact and engage. I want students to speak, to respond and to participate. I don’t care if the answers are incorrect, but I do care that they attempt an answer. I don’t worry that they stumble over words or phrases, but I won’t allow classmates to talk over, or belittle the efforts of their peers. I do not ask for unwavering attention or cowering subservience, but respect is a must. Don’t read or draw when you should be listening. don’t leave the class without asking. Don’t come late and start a conversation. Don’t do your homework in my class.

I will answer any question you ask but try to be on topic. I have one student who constantly asks how old I am.  I am beginning to suspect short-term memory loss, perhaps complicated by a genuine lack of interest in any answer I may give. Perhaps he needs a list of non-sequiturs to add and broaden his range of non-conversation starters?

What does any of this have to do with St. Patrick’s Day?

Not much. Just that, since the world has kindly embraced a barely remembered religious figure and created a day of green shakes, green beer, funny green hats, and small fictional gold-hoarders. Perhaps my students will embrace English; in the same way some people learn Klingon or the migratory habits of sponges.IMG_20180202_024331_798IMG_20180206_235627_704IMG_20180209_112919_513

A Few Nights Later

This was originally written in 1998 … I haven’t changed much, other than punctuation.

Teachers from three of Surabaya’s largest schools met a few months ago. This wasn’t a summit on education, or on international relations, just early parole.

For many of us, it was our first night out in a week. The early part of May in Indonesia had been marred by riots, and rumours of riots. The streets were not safe. Many people had left. (A Husband’s Perspective)

We met, as we had met so many times before, in The Tavern. The Tavern is a small, fairly intimate pub in the Hyatt Hotel(Now the Hotel Bumi). At that time Thursday nights were half price, and affordable. The week before the meeting had been spent incognito and effectively isolated. Ten teachers, a visiting friend, two girlfriends and Emily, my wife. Also present, in an unsupporting role, was a motley assortment of Bules (foreigners)

In the back of the Tavern, where the more clandestine meetings usually take place, a group of young Chinese were enjoying a night of freedom. Perhaps enjoying isn’t the right word. They were almost motionless.

The Bules gained motion as soon as the next group appeared. A television crew from one of the local stations had entered the bar. Suharto had resigned the day before and they were looking for reaction shots. Pak Suharto Keluar (Suharto has left)…. Where were you?

The reaction was forthcoming. One Bule pried himself up from his barstool and stormed over to the crew. His basic problem was a belief that this was a foreigner’s bar and these guys weren’t allowed in here. Well, their presence was unusual, but the presence of a number of local ladies would seem to dispute The Tavern’s Foreigners Only status.

The ladies are a permanent fixture of the Tavern. You can’t go into any bar, disco, or nightclub without seeing a few Chickens. Locals call them Ayam Kampung, Ayam Kampus, or Ayam Malam, or village chickens, high-class chickens, and night chickens. The number of young women making themselves available has increased since the crisis.
As for the Bule’s reaction: his statements were loud, laced with profanity and mercifully brief. The television crew left, the Bule fumed for a bit then resumed his chair and his conversation. His gathering of four had increased by one. One of the previously mentioned ladies had added herself to the group.

For everyone, it was business as usual. A quiet couple of hours, a few beers, some excellent hot pretzels, and a few rounds of cards. As I am perhaps the world’s worst card player, I sat out the game. Most of the conversation was about the previous week. Who had stayed, who had left, who was about to leave – three more teachers left that weekend – and what was going to happen.

Most of the people that stayed have been here for awhile. I’ve been here for nearly two years. Geoff has been here for three years, and Chris a bit longer than that.
There are no absolutes in this situation. John Koeman, a teacher from Holland, had been in Surabaya for seven years. He decided it was time to go. He’s in Taiwan now, as are Marcus and Allison, and Jo and Paul.

Probably the main reason that teachers stay is that they become integrated into the community. Unlike the engineers and hotel managers who come here and are effectively isolated, a teacher is effectively mixed with the population. Some teachers are more mixed than others.

People react positively or negatively to the mixing. Their reaction may be based on their reason for being here. If they’ve come for the money, they’re just here to do a job – and then leave. Anything that interferes with that purpose is a nuisance.
Many teachers are here for the experience. They’re geared up to live in another country, to experience a different culture, to try new foods, or just to learn the language. They’re generally disposed to mixing.

Mixers and non-mixers alike come from every social, ethnic and geographical grouping. The experience we all shared was the temporary release from the unique blend of cabin fever and stress that is Surabaya.

For me; a good remedy for stress is stepping away, physically and mentally. When I take a few moments to relax with friends and family I can then re-enter the fray with a clearer, calmer perspective.

Living in Indonesia: A Husband’s Perspective

This was originally written in 1998 … I haven’t changed much, other than punctuation.

Vantage graphics ... accept no substitutes

For me, the stress of this crisis began on Monday, May 18th.

“You’ve been ordered to leave.” Dini’s voice was rapid and strained.

“When?’ I asked as if someone was telling me the bar was about to close.

“This afternoon. Everyone’s meeting at the Shangri-La hotel.”

Dini, from the Canadian consulate, has been a great help. She’s helped with paperwork for our marriage; she intervened with an employer, and she has been a conduit for official information. Dini is also a very professional and pleasant person. Her clipped speech and frantic tone were completely out of character.

Basically, here was the situation. The Canadian Embassy and the US Consulate General Surabaya had chartered a flight. Canadians, Americans, Germans, Dutch and a couple of Turkish nationals were going to fly to Singapore.

For this excursion, they would pay the bargain price of $500 USD. Now, if you’re a businessman or an engineer – no problem. Teachers in Indonesia make between $300 and $450 USD per month. When you have a family, with children in school, you don’t have an excess of cash. My wife Emily and I have two children, Emily’s from a previous marriage, but nonetheless – our children. The wolf may indeed have been at the door, but that sucker was going hungry tonight. My family is my life and no crisis will change that.

On Sunday night we had a family meeting. I outlined the options.

Canada: We could spend everything we have and take the family to Canada. Canada is where I have family and friends, but no job to go back to. More importantly, I don’t have a place to stay, at least for any extended period.

America: I have friends there. Emily, my wife, has a visa. I love the country. It’s a damn expensive trip, and again I don’t have a home or a job there.

Hong Kong: Hong Kong is a big, beautiful and exciting city. Emily speaks passable Mandarin and her mother is fluent in Mandarin, Hokkien and Cantonese. The children’s Chinese is like my Indonesian: pathetic but earnest. Emily has family there. Hong Kong is impossible without money. Finding a job could be next to impossible. I want to see Hong Kong, but I’d prefer the experience to be a positive one.

Taiwan: The jobs are there in Taiwan. Many teachers have left for Taiwan. Would my family be allowed in? I can’t take the chance.

In the end, we decided to wait it out here.

With Wednesday’s impending madness (see story) almost upon us we discussed hiding out in one of Surabaya’s hotels or going out of town. We decided to wait on developments.

No one could give me a clear answer about the family. They’re Indonesian citizens, but they’re also Chinese. Even if Emily could come – as she’s my wife – what about the kids? Even if Emily and the kids were allowed, what about Emily’s mum? their Grandmother? my mother-in-law?

Do in-laws count as carry-on luggage? Don’t freak gentle reader – I love my mother-in-law. She’s a great lady. The bottom line is; I’m not leaving my family.

Norm Mcdonald from the Canadian Embassy said later that my family might be able to come out with me. On their own, Canadians have returned home. Some remain in Singapore waiting out the crisis.

Some will undoubtedly go to Taiwan or Thailand. Some will even go to Bali.

Some American friends are now in Bali, waiting.

We are now at home waiting for the situation to return to normal. Here we sit, packed suitcases and documents at the ready.

Local children are in the street. They’re playing volleyball. The ball makes a dull thud when they hit it. The balls here never seem to have enough air. They’re having fun.

Meanwhile, we sit behind our seven-foot iron fence – waiting.

Some streets, like the one directly in front of our house, are blocked by rusting cars and vans, while other streets are occupied by soldiers. The men seem decidedly less rusty than the cars and vans. The men seem to be having less fun than the children. The men are waiting.

People sit in small groups, talk, drinking and eating. Kaki Limas (five-legged men) the street merchants with their pushcarts, sell food and drink. The voices on the street are uncharacteristically low.

Sharing quick smiles, and nervous glances, hands together or resting on knees – they wait.

A young woman, eating food from a Kaki Lima, shakes her hips slowly and seductively to Ricky Martin’s ‘Maria‘. A large black rooster intrudes on the volleyball game. He exits quickly as the ball narrowly misses him. Too bad. He’s probably the noisy bugger who woke me up this morning, at three o’clock. The dancer has finished her meal and joined the game.

Young men, previously content to watch, have now joined the game. For now, they are moving, playing, and laughing. The waiting may come later.

Part Two fewnights2

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Dual Degree: Is it possible to get two degrees at the same time?

Dual degrees, or double cohorts, have been around for quite some time. They exist in real life, and they’re actually affordable. No longer the sole province of armored avengers and somber cape-wearing playboy billionaires, the dual degree gives students the chance to finish their studies with two complementary but equally marketable skill-sets.

A dual degree program in International Business and Intercultural Leadership would give graduates a serious advantage over the competition. The program exists, and it is affordable.

Presented by a respected Thai University and an American university, working together to create a concentrated four-year program.

Lamar University and Siam Technology College have a program which meets most budgets,  educational needs, and career aspirations.

The degrees

Lamar University and Siam Technology College Dual Degree Program

• BGS in Intercultural Organizational Leadership from Lamar University
• BBA in International Business Administration from Siam Technology College

The universities

Lamar University was founded in 1923 and is has a current enrollment of more than 15,000 students. Lamar University is one of the fastest growing colleges in Texas and is a member of The Texas State University System. Lamar University offers more than 100 educational programs of study in the most dynamic career fields leading to Bachelor, Master, and Doctoral degrees. The 292-acre campus in Beaumont is about 90 miles east of Houston, Texas and about 25 miles west of Louisiana.

Siam Technology College, founded in 1965 as Thailand’s first Technology College under the name Siam Institute of Technology, and the first private technology college in Thailand, is a private education institution under the Office of the Higher Education Commission in Thailand. With over 10,000 students, STC is also one of the fastest growing institutes of higher education in Thailand.

Location and Contact Information

46 Jarunsanitwong 10 Road Tha Pra, Bangkok Yai, Bangkok, 10600, THAILAND
Siam Tech: 028785000
Office Phone: 0628432988
+66 (0) 87-541-9896
Admissions

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