Robyn.Bowles.es

Today is Friday. I had been looking forward to my class today because it was to be a “video day.” I wasn’t completely clear about what that meant – only that Julio had told me last week that every other Friday I would / could / or should show a video (a little confusion due to the translation). I confirmed this with him on Monday and Wednesday of this week and assumed that he would meet me before class and have the TV and VCR all set up to go. You’d think that I would have learned by now not to assume anything . . .

First, Julio was late to school, so when he did arrive he was flying all over opening doors, greeting teachers and unleashing the hoards of students into the hallways and classrooms. My students trickled in very slowly today – I wondered if I had somehow set my watch ahead, although I had checked it against the Metro time just this morning.

I tried to collect the homework I had given them on Wednesday, the expected students said it was at home and a whole string of other excuses I couldn’t understand. Finally, Julio came in and talked to me about a few things, but didn’t mention the video. Apparently the kids knew it was video day because one of the biggest trouble makers kept saying, “TV hoy, television, television . . . “ Julio was about to leave without saying anything about the video when I was finally able to get a word in. When I asked he acted confused, then checked his calendar and said, “Yes, today you can show video.”

Ok. Great, but where is it? How does it work? What do I show them . . .? He directed two kids to follow us down the hall to get the TV and VCR. Of course, this meant that eight, poorly-behaved nine-year-olds were left unattended in the classroom. The room in which I had been warned not to let them touch anything, or move anything.

We got the machine and he showed me a box of videos to choose from: mostly Disney videos or other taped programs from TV. The two kids and I returned to the classroom to find all but one standing together around a desk, all shouting in Spanish, one of them crying. Then I saw it. Red ink. EVERYWHERE: on the tables, on the chairs, on the floor, it covered one kids’ face and neck and another girls’ backpack and jacket.

Of course they all spoke at once. I learned that my smart-aleck kid, Antonio, had thrown his red pen at another kid. It had hit him in the face (leaving several marks). It took awhile longer to get them to quiet down enough to discover that trouble number one – Pablo – had thrown it back at him. And somehow, in the process, it had completely exploded all over this precious, not-to-be disturbed classroom.

I stood there, dumbfounded in disbelief. A few minutes later, Julio came in. I was happy he was there and happy to tell him what these monsters had done. I’m not sure if he had believed how bad they were every other time I had complained about them. Now, he knows.

The rest of the class period was chaos from there. Pablo and Antonio were directed to clean up the mess using a roll of toilet paper; and the rest of the students were to sit quietly and watch the video. I wish. The two cleaners needed frequent redirection and the rest of the class was so distracted by them and concerned that their desks would not get cleaned in time that there was constant chatter. Julio came in a few times, one time bringing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a rag, and it was only in those moments that there was any semblance of order in the classroom.

I finally gave up redirecting and telling them to be quiet because I was trying to get as many assignments graded as I could and wanted to focus on that. I decided to end class a few minutes early – the room reeked of alcohol, and it was a lost cause anyway.

I quickly concluded that there would not be another video day for a long time!

« Life as a TEFL teacher     City Life »