For the record, I am aware of the sheer banality of every single one of the battles. Let it serve as a sign of what I spend the majority of my day doing. If whining about stupid things involving battles with small children that every parent probably face (with the benefit of, y'know, actually loving their children and being able to discipline them appropriately without trying to deal with eight other kids at the same time) will make you think less of me, then please, read no further.
Battle #1
Opponent: Three-and-a-half-year-old boy with what is, unarguably, one of the worst two home life situations at the school.
Frequency of Occurrence: Three times a week, because that's how many days I have lunch duty. Has been ongoing for months.
The Situation: Will he eat his lunch, now that he's being given a decent meal of rice, meat, and a little fruit instead of the giant slabs of cream-filled bread from the convenience store he used to have every day?
The Victor: Me, though it often takes about an hour and fifteen minutes. But I always win. Well, except for once, back when I was new and he dissolved into a fit of screaming hysterical rage that lasted over half an hour until the boss came and took him away. Call me cruel, but I was totally content to let him scream his little heart out until he passed out. Hey, I never claimed to be good with children. I said I liked children in my interview--and I do. I like the nice ones who have been taught how to behave.
Battle #2
Opponent: The same as listed previously.
Frequency of Occurrence: Constant; ongoing since I arrived.
The Situation: Will he use the toilet? Yes, a boy who's three years, nine months, is totally and completely not potty trained. He understand the concept. He understands that "big boys pee pee in the potty, babies pee pee in diapers." He can practically change himself. He just doesn't care, and mom certainly doesn't care enough to try.
The Victor: Him, usually. I mean, I can only run a child to the toilet every thirty minutes only to be disappointed every single time so many times in a day. I've basically given this one up. Mom wants to send her nearly-four-year-old kid to Pre-K in diapers starting in April, let her do it. And, to be completely fair, Mom has some pretty major issues of her own.
Battle #3
Opponent: A four-year-old slug of a boy
Frequency of Occurrence: Three times a week, lasting from 10:00 - 10:30 (Song & Dance Time)
The Situation: I am the only remaining teacher who does not apply a vastly set of different standards to the boys in baby class than the girls. I expect the boys to sing and do the dances, just like the girls can. This boy refuses. He can do it; he just won't until I call him out, and then does so in a completely minimalist manner until my attention turns elsewhere, at which point he stops again. This is the same kid who sat crying, crayon-in-hand, for twenty minutes because we wouldn't let him play until he colored one picture on his "Letter N" worksheet. Ironically, I have this boy's older sister in my elementary class, and she is one of the most energetic, involved students of the lot.
The Victor: It's a stand-off. The kid doesn't care for me, as evidenced by the fact that during circle time, he always says he's happy because the other teacher is there. But I refuse to give up, and have started finding ways to punish him, which is working as a motivator ("No good job singing? No London Bridge for Genki." Oh, how I hate how stupid I sound.).
Battle #4
Opponent: An eight-year-old girl who comes from the other really horrible home situation, and has been described by her previous and current teachers as, well, a word that's really not nice to use in reference to an eight-year-old.
Frequency of Occurrence: Twice weekly, for an hour and fifteen minutes of pure hell.
The Situation: Will she speak English, or will she blatantly refuse and then respond to threatened punishment in a completely melodramatic way? I'm going with Option B on this one. At one point, when I tried to send this student to "time out" for refusing to speak English (turning her back to me and talking in Japanese to her friends, quite literally, within five seconds of my request), she stormed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom for the remaining 45 minutes of class. Again, ironically, her younger sister is one of the sweetest kids in the kindergarten class.
Victor: It's hard to tell, and it varies from day to day. Honestly, this girl is emotionally damaged in a lot of ways, stressed out beyond belief, and has had a truly horrible role model ("Mom hit Dad." "Your dad hits your mom?" "No, Mom get angry, and hit Dad so, so much. Every day."). It's probably her more often than it is me, just because she thinks she wins, and if I don't decidedly win over her, it's a loss.
Battle #5
Opponent: Myself
Frequency of Occurrence: Varies
The Situation: Will I eventually eventually become dead inside due to my complete lack of sympathy for the little kids who cry because they can't have the toy they want or obsess over having the teacher's attention every moment of every day? Will I eventually snap at a parent to shut their child up when the parent is speaking to my boss, and the child is whining (in Japanese), "MomMomMomMomLet'sgoMomMomLet'sgoMomLet'sgoLet'sgoLet'sgoMomLet'sgoMomMomMomLet'tsgo" for the entire three minutes while the parent does nothing? Will I eventually scream at the parents of every male child in the baby class that it is possible to potty-train your son before he's three and a half? Will I ever scream at my boss that I am a more-than-competent teacher, and even though I'm a female, I will never be as nurturing with the baby class as she wants me to be--at least not without some serious medication for either me or them? Will I go crazy and tear my own hair out because of the above situations, among many, many others, are a fairly accurate summation of my job that was supposed to be about teaching English?
The Victor: I haven't done any of the things above yet, though I am beginning to wonder about the "dead inside" one.
The Mitigating Factor: I am leaving this job in less than six weeks. And yes, I will miss all of my first and second-graders (my first and second-graders, not the one aforementioned girl I have twice a week when classes combine). I will desperately miss a lot of the kindergarteners, mostly because I see them 30 minutes a day, tops, and don't actually have to teach them. And I will miss getting to establish a rapport with such a small group of kids that I see every day. But I have no interest in early child care. None whatsoever. It frustrates me (clearly). I do not want to deal with it (clearly). This job has never been what it was presented as (clearly, or else I wouldn't be here).
Six weeks. I can keep fighting the battles that much longer, and then it's on to battles that, while may may be just as banal, will at least not involve cleaning a child's poop off the floor.
Opponent: Three-and-a-half-year-old boy with what is, unarguably, one of the worst two home life situations at the school.
Frequency of Occurrence: Three times a week, because that's how many days I have lunch duty. Has been ongoing for months.
The Situation: Will he eat his lunch, now that he's being given a decent meal of rice, meat, and a little fruit instead of the giant slabs of cream-filled bread from the convenience store he used to have every day?
The Victor: Me, though it often takes about an hour and fifteen minutes. But I always win. Well, except for once, back when I was new and he dissolved into a fit of screaming hysterical rage that lasted over half an hour until the boss came and took him away. Call me cruel, but I was totally content to let him scream his little heart out until he passed out. Hey, I never claimed to be good with children. I said I liked children in my interview--and I do. I like the nice ones who have been taught how to behave.
Battle #2
Opponent: The same as listed previously.
Frequency of Occurrence: Constant; ongoing since I arrived.
The Situation: Will he use the toilet? Yes, a boy who's three years, nine months, is totally and completely not potty trained. He understand the concept. He understands that "big boys pee pee in the potty, babies pee pee in diapers." He can practically change himself. He just doesn't care, and mom certainly doesn't care enough to try.
The Victor: Him, usually. I mean, I can only run a child to the toilet every thirty minutes only to be disappointed every single time so many times in a day. I've basically given this one up. Mom wants to send her nearly-four-year-old kid to Pre-K in diapers starting in April, let her do it. And, to be completely fair, Mom has some pretty major issues of her own.
Battle #3
Opponent: A four-year-old slug of a boy
Frequency of Occurrence: Three times a week, lasting from 10:00 - 10:30 (Song & Dance Time)
The Situation: I am the only remaining teacher who does not apply a vastly set of different standards to the boys in baby class than the girls. I expect the boys to sing and do the dances, just like the girls can. This boy refuses. He can do it; he just won't until I call him out, and then does so in a completely minimalist manner until my attention turns elsewhere, at which point he stops again. This is the same kid who sat crying, crayon-in-hand, for twenty minutes because we wouldn't let him play until he colored one picture on his "Letter N" worksheet. Ironically, I have this boy's older sister in my elementary class, and she is one of the most energetic, involved students of the lot.
The Victor: It's a stand-off. The kid doesn't care for me, as evidenced by the fact that during circle time, he always says he's happy because the other teacher is there. But I refuse to give up, and have started finding ways to punish him, which is working as a motivator ("No good job singing? No London Bridge for Genki." Oh, how I hate how stupid I sound.).
Battle #4
Opponent: An eight-year-old girl who comes from the other really horrible home situation, and has been described by her previous and current teachers as, well, a word that's really not nice to use in reference to an eight-year-old.
Frequency of Occurrence: Twice weekly, for an hour and fifteen minutes of pure hell.
The Situation: Will she speak English, or will she blatantly refuse and then respond to threatened punishment in a completely melodramatic way? I'm going with Option B on this one. At one point, when I tried to send this student to "time out" for refusing to speak English (turning her back to me and talking in Japanese to her friends, quite literally, within five seconds of my request), she stormed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom for the remaining 45 minutes of class. Again, ironically, her younger sister is one of the sweetest kids in the kindergarten class.
Victor: It's hard to tell, and it varies from day to day. Honestly, this girl is emotionally damaged in a lot of ways, stressed out beyond belief, and has had a truly horrible role model ("Mom hit Dad." "Your dad hits your mom?" "No, Mom get angry, and hit Dad so, so much. Every day."). It's probably her more often than it is me, just because she thinks she wins, and if I don't decidedly win over her, it's a loss.
Battle #5
Opponent: Myself
Frequency of Occurrence: Varies
The Situation: Will I eventually eventually become dead inside due to my complete lack of sympathy for the little kids who cry because they can't have the toy they want or obsess over having the teacher's attention every moment of every day? Will I eventually snap at a parent to shut their child up when the parent is speaking to my boss, and the child is whining (in Japanese), "MomMomMomMomLet'sgoMomMomLet'sgoMomLet'sgoLet'sgoLet'sgoMomLet'sgoMomMomMomLet'tsgo" for the entire three minutes while the parent does nothing? Will I eventually scream at the parents of every male child in the baby class that it is possible to potty-train your son before he's three and a half? Will I ever scream at my boss that I am a more-than-competent teacher, and even though I'm a female, I will never be as nurturing with the baby class as she wants me to be--at least not without some serious medication for either me or them? Will I go crazy and tear my own hair out because of the above situations, among many, many others, are a fairly accurate summation of my job that was supposed to be about teaching English?
The Victor: I haven't done any of the things above yet, though I am beginning to wonder about the "dead inside" one.
The Mitigating Factor: I am leaving this job in less than six weeks. And yes, I will miss all of my first and second-graders (my first and second-graders, not the one aforementioned girl I have twice a week when classes combine). I will desperately miss a lot of the kindergarteners, mostly because I see them 30 minutes a day, tops, and don't actually have to teach them. And I will miss getting to establish a rapport with such a small group of kids that I see every day. But I have no interest in early child care. None whatsoever. It frustrates me (clearly). I do not want to deal with it (clearly). This job has never been what it was presented as (clearly, or else I wouldn't be here).
Six weeks. I can keep fighting the battles that much longer, and then it's on to battles that, while may may be just as banal, will at least not involve cleaning a child's poop off the floor.
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