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09/09/2010

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Sally

Thanks for your interesting Post Mr. Stuart. You seemed to have a good time at the University. You mentioned some sporting activities that you participated in, for example you mentioned weight-lifting, rollerblading and such.

At our school many, if not all of the teachers here, participate in a kind of yoga. Well, perhaps it isn't you kind of la-di-da yoga, but it can be construed as being a kind of yoga. The last day of every month when all of the teachers have been begging for their money, they are informed to wait outside the accounting office. But as the accounting office has no set opening time, we sit on the floor pondering when it will open. Sometimes we ponder this question for hours. Some of us ponder it for an entire day, on occasion. We call this "Endofmonth Yoga". It certainly makes you more patient, but not so kind.


The other sporting activity we involve ourselves with is sprinting, which I am told you also enjoy. But I think your idea of sprinting is ratyher medievil compared to our TIMESHIFTING sprinting. Let me enlighten you: the last class finishes at 5.30 in the evening and the school bus leaves promptly at 5.15, so when the 5.30 bell goes we spint at warp-speed, and in such a manner that time turns backwards and the 5.15 bus is caught. It's either this or a twenty-five yuan taxi ride home. Few enjoy doing ths sprint as it does exhaust one, and we have no open-air pool in this part of the world in which we can cool off.

Finally there is the good old sport of "dayswiching" where the school changes the programm of Monday, say, to that of Thursday without bothering to inform you, and on top of this running around, they also remove for some unknown reason the classroom numbers. It certainly makes you climb those stairs and run around, it certainly gets the heart pounding,I think it should become an Olympic event.

Unlike your school, Mr. Stuart, every teacher at my school hates English corner, for if we go, the school bus is missed. So our experiences and opinions differ on this matter. We also differ on opionion as to whether Chinese women are made of gold. I don't think they are made of gold, but rather I think they are made of flesh and blood like ourselves.

I, like you, also feel great emotions at the end of my school contract, but my emotions are of relief and disgust, and usually the car taking us to our airport has an atmosphere more befitting a morgue.

We do not celebtae Christmas here as we consider it totally bogus, but secrectly I think its because we cannot find any good sticky tape to hold up the decorations.

Thanks for the Blog Mr. Stuart, and keep on writing!

Administrator

I know that old caper. I wouldn't give them the joy of seeing me sit outside the office waiting for my peanuts. What is wrong with them anyway - never heard of bank transfers?

The class switching and class time shifting is something I have come across - not often thankfully. Actually quite a few American teachers do quite a bit of time switching of their own. If a part of the timetable doesn't agree with them, they just work out their own timetable.

A friend of mine Bill, works sometimes in Nanjing and Shanghai decided that the class times was not to his agreement and cut them. He fore fitted his air-fare home and they are letting him stay in the accommodation as payment for the few classes he is now doing.

When I was at the University, they allowed one guy to pass the year, who turned up to only 3 or 4 classes of mine. When there was a national holiday however, they took down all the register of students so none of them could go home. Even though I allowed them all to join the first class, I was ordered back to take half the same class with no material in the afternoon. A demand that met with the usual digital response.

It was partly that which stopped me getting my second year contract. I think most of it was I didn't cow-tow to them grinning like an arse-hole rubbing my little hands together, pretending I'm an idiot.Ah sorry sorry sorry sorry - wide grin, just give me the money (I hold out my begging bowl). Ah pride, its such an overrated concept...

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