I Hate Teenagers

Well, maybe not all teenagers.  Just some of them.  Or certain ones with bad attitudes and no respect for authority.  The ones who think the rest of the world should drop everything to do what they want.  OK, the truth—I hate one particular teenager.
 
To understand how I'm feeling, you have to know all of the other little things that happened today, the worst day I've had in a long while.  Ready for a good long rant?!
 
The adult class began the day.  Several students were late—nothing unusual there, but it's getting to be really annoying because they're consistently late, and miss instructions or the flow of what we're doing.  Class starts at the same time each day—rearrange your schedule so you can arrive on time!!  Grace wanted to end class at 11:30 and go out to lunch together.  We were originally going to go on Monday, but they changed their minds, then Tuesday, but one student wasn't there, so we put it off again.  Thursdays are usually when I get all of my daily reports entered into the computer, and if I went out to lunch with them I would have to do the daily reports over the weekend, plus I'd be rushed to get ready for afternoon classes, etc.  The other days I told them I had to be back by 1 PM, but in the past that means they usually leave the restaurant at that time, putting me back to school even later.  PLUS whenever we've gone out in the past they speak 80% Korean, so what's the use of me being there, anyway?!  So I told them I was too busy to go, but that they should go out by themselves anyway. 
 
Grace acted terribly disappointed, like it was my OBLIGATION, and asked when would be a good time for me to go.  I explained, again, that summer is a very busy time (what with getting ready for the extra class, and then normal stuff like the meeting, and the online journals that are taking longer and longer to correct, etc.) .  Grace ignored that comment, and asked if I could go next week.  I repeated, I DON'T KNOW—right now I DON'T KNOW what I'll be expected to do next week!  Grace so completely didn't get it (I don't think she's ever worked outside of her home to understand the concept that if the boss tells you to do something, you do it).  The mothers who have or have had kids in our school told her (in Korean, but I basically understood) that summer is, indeed, really busy at our academy.  Grace still acted hurt, but asked if we could have a party at school next week.  Yeah, fine, whatever, as long as it doesn't take up a lot of time! 
 
We studied, and then after class ended I went to the teachers' room to correct some papers, etc.  One of the students (my guess is that it was Grace) bought several of the dessert things from Lotteria.  Whoever the mystery student was, she gave it to the secretary, who brought one to me.  It really hit the spot on such a hot day—ice, various kinds of fruit, red beans, and topped with a bit of vanilla ice cream=delicious.  It made me feel slightly guilty about declining the lunch, but at the same time, they have no clue how it is to teach here (or to work at all, actually).  They think they're doing me a favor by taking me out, but it's actually more work for me to understand them and make myself understood by them.  It's not fun, especially when I have other things that I should be doing.
 
So that was the morning.  I got a good bit done before the afternoon classes.  The first class was great.  Clint's out for a few weeks getting ready for a piano recital, so it's only 5 of the cutest little 2nd graders on the face of the earth.  They use lots of Korean—probably too much—but I usually understand.  Hey!  I can understand a 2nd grader!  : )  But I speak like a 3-year-old.  : (     Anyway, I help them by providing the English words for what they're saying.  They're completely comfortable with me, which is a bad thing, sometimes!  Kate was talking about how bad her school bathroom smells—that when she walked in, she threw up, and her friend was next to her and was surprised.  When I asked them about the weather Penny pointed out that it was sunny and rainy today, "The han-ul (sky) is crazy!" 
 
The lesson was on various kinds of food.  We learned the "I like ____" and "I dislike _____" forms.  I had them ask each other what they like and dislike, and Danny said, "I like Beth."  I thought maybe he was confused, so I asked him, "Do you eat me?" and added some motions.  He smiled an evil smile and said that yes, I was delicious.  Maria said that she likes everything.  I asked her if she likes bon-dae-gi (silk worm larva), she said yes.  I asked her if she likes dog meat (bo-shin-tang), and she said yes.  I don't believe you, Maria! 
 
Maria was eating candy before I came into class, and as they were greeting me (up out of their chairs surrounding me) Danny found a candy on the floor.  He showed it to Maria and said something about how she must have dropped it.  I could see his brain thinking if it was OK to eat it (the floors are always FILTHY!) but she took it from him as if to look at it or something, then I saw the same thought process going on in her mind as she wiped it on her shirt before popping it into her mouth.  That class was good, but as always, takes a lot of energy to keep them engaged in the lesson.
 
The next class was so-so, with Ally being way too talkative, and the others being rather more dense than normal.  The following class was also just OK.
 
Here's where things get bad.  The 5 PM class is extremely small so is usually easy to handle.  Previously it had two 8th grade girls who are very motivated, and a 5th grade boy who is very advanced for his age but is sometimes a little too silly.  Well, the solution the administration worked out to the Monica/Rooky fight was to put Monica into this class, which is almost at the same level as the class she was in before.  So add Monica (7th grade) to the mix.  The three regular students were in the front row—girls on one side of the aisle, boy on the other.  Monica sat in the second row behind the two girls.  The bell rang, I came in, we greeted each other, I asked them about their week and anything special they've done recently, and then we opened our books.  We started with a listening exercise.  The tape was playing, the three good students were listening, and Monica's head was down on her desk.  I looked more carefully at her—is she writing what she's supposed to be writing?  What is she doing?  I arrived at her desk at about the time she looked up and hurried to hide her headphones.  SHE WAS LISTENING TO MUSIC WHEN SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE COMPLETING AN ENGLISH LISTENING EXERCISE!!!!!  I told her to give me her tape player; she did.  I moved her to the front row, which she protested because it meant sitting next to a boy.  For most of class the two of them elbowed and/or hit each other.
 
At the end of class Monica asked for her tape player back but I said no, I'd give it back next week.  She protested that it wasn't hers.  I said I didn't care, but I did ask whose it was—her sister's.  Younger or older sister?  Older sister's.  "Teacher, she will hit me!"  Well good, you shouldn't have been listening to music in my class!  She followed me into the teachers' room, continuing to whine.  Miro gave me a questioning look, so I explained, and Miro completely understood and supported my decision 100%.  Finally Monica left and I went into my next class.
 
That class was particularly stupid and blind and deaf about everything today.  About halfway through, Joelle came in and said that Monica's mother had called, and I had to return the tape player today.  Joelle's justification was that Monica thought it was "10 minute writing time" so that was why she was still listening to music.  Joelle, the bell rang……I came in…..we greeted each other…..I asked them about their week and anything special they've done recently…..then we opened our books…..we were doing a listening exercise…..the tape was playing…..the three good students were listening…..Monica's head was down on her desk.  HELLO—what an outright lie!  Joelle's next justification—the tape player belonged to someone else.  Well, that someone else was stupid to let Monica borrow the tape player!  I told Joelle that Monica's attitude sucks, and that if I returned the tape player to her just because her mother asked me to, then she'd think she can do anything she wants to in my class and get away with it.  As usual, nothing I say means anything, because Joelle's opinion is the only one that matters.
 
I told my students to put their heads down on their desks and not say a single word while I was gone.  I went to my desk, retrieved the tape player from where I had carefully stored it for safe-keeping until next week, and gave it to Joelle—I wasn't about to hand it directly to Monica.  I could see the triumph in the devil's eyes—"Ha Ha!  I won, you lost!  I don't have to listen to you!  Wait until next week and see how I'll behave in class!"
 
I returned to my classroom, angry that the administration hadn't supported me and that my class had been interrupted.  I entered the classroom to find a couple of students talking.  I yelled at them, asking them why their heads weren't down on their desks and their mouths silent like I'd told them to be.  The next several minutes I took some deep breaths, erased the board, and straightened some books while not a single sound came from the ten 5th and 6th grade students with their heads firmly on their desks.  Finally I felt composed enough to conduct class again.  Of course, what with the interruption and me being so angry, I didn't get nearly what I wanted to get done finished.  When the bell rang perhaps one person moved slightly, the rest continued on the group activity.  I kept them about 4 minutes after, gave them homework, and asked them to open their ears and eyes next class and close their mouths. 
 
As that class left (quickly, both to catch the bus and before I yelled at them any more) the next class (which I teach on another day) came in.  Paul (my favorite little 5th grader who I used to not like, that's weird) asked me how I was.  I replied truthfully, "I'm angry."  He asked me why, and I said that the class was bad and the students weren't listening.  He said something like "That's too bad" or "I'm sorry" or something, I didn't pay much attention to his response.  What struck me was that this little 5th grader is sincerely concerned about his teacher, while the rest of the world couldn't care less if she lived or died.  (OK, maybe not the rest of the world, but certainly the rest of the school.)  I dropped my books in the teachers' room, careful not to make eye-contact with anyone, then high-tailed it to the bathroom which I was glad to find empty.  There are way too many people in this country!!!! 
 
I wanted to be away from everyone, yet at that moment I don't know if I've ever felt more lonely and far away from anyone who meant anything to me.  I tried to hold back the tears, but only partially succeeded.  The bell rang way too soon, and when I returned to the teachers' room to grab my books, Matt was still there and gave me a funny look.  Yes, I'm aware that with just a few tears my face looks terrible and I can't change it or hide it.  He asked if I'd had a hard time with a student and I said, "Yes, something like that."  I didn't want to get into it at that moment, because one of my hardest students was next.  A class of 12, but Brandon alone is a handful.  I walked into that class, determined not to take any of his misbehavior, and hoping that I wouldn't cry in front of the kids.  The best thing that's happened all day—he was absent!!!  The other kids either didn't notice my face, or decided not to mention it.  Their behavior was pretty normal, so I think they didn't notice it.  Annie attacked me as I walked in, wanting to know how to write cursive letters.  I showed them, and then they studied decently.
 
Over dinner Matt asked what had happened, and I was able to fairly calmly tell him.  He agreed that it was bad that I was forced to return the tape player.  I was wondering how I was going to deal with Monica in the future, and whether to treat her really harshly or just completely ignore her, relegating her to the back of the classroom, and work with the students who make an effort to learn.  But that's not an issue anymore!  Monica quit our school!  Hooray!  Apparently the mother made a pain of herself.  The mother admitted that Monica has a bad attitude, but was upset that Joelle actually told her (the mother) that.  Well, the point is that perhaps the mother could do something to change that, as in, tell her daughter to show proper respect to people in charge!  But apparently Monica is another little perfect angel who can do nothing wrong.  I'm worried about Korea's future! 
 
The bus ride and walk home weren't the most difficult I've ever done, but the littlest things annoyed me so much more than normal.  A middle-aged woman stayed firmly seated, munching on dried ramion while an older woman struggled with packages and no place to sit; people bumped into me and formed a roadblock on the sidewalk so I couldn't get through; a van ignored me walking in the crosswalk; cars were parked on the sidewalk, forcing me to walk in the road; the uneven sidewalk tried to trip me, as it does every day; the ever-changing TV schedules left me confused; the high humidity makes everything perpetually damp; the guy on the floor above is still practicing to become an opera singer; the drunk people walking down the street scream at each other.  This is definitely one of those 
I HATE KOREA days.