the day that would just not END

Today was the longest day of teaching I have had in Bulgaria, and consequently in the whole of my life.

This semester I have 4 classes right in a row, from first period to fourth. I start with 5b, which is okay because if I have to teach them, I like it being in the morning when they are still tired.

Then I have my 8b class, which has gotten better this week since I segregated the bulk of the boys to the back of the room where they do not disturb the girls and 2 boys who want to study. For the record, I hate to teach 8th grade boys.

After them is 6b, which I am thankful for because it means I am not teaching 6a, which is the class that makes me want to scream and throw them out of the windows. I think my counterpart and director have finally understood this, and I have not taught them yet this semester. I guess breaking down in tears in the teacher's room after a class with them gets the message across...

Finally, in my usual schedule, I teach my 9th graders. They are kind of the stars of my week...They might not know a lot of English, but they generally don't listen to music on their GSMs or run out of the classroom or throw things at one another or pretend like I am not in the room. Today I had them working in their Activity Books so it was a pretty relaxed lesson.

After that class I got ready to leave. I was just about packed up when Rosie walked by looking terrible. She had been sick in the morning, but she looked really really miserable by the end of fourth period. Being the nice person I am (and the karma-superstitious person I am) I offered to take her last two lessons...8a and 12th grade. She was very thankful, and I moved my work to her classroom (which is way nicer than mine thanks to a previous volunteer).

As usual, 8a didn't want to do anything. I got out the "American Cultural Readers" and had them do a unit on Superman. Three of the kids actually worked, the rest stared into space getting dumber (but they were relatively quiet, which is all I ask. By the way, all but one kid in that class are boys, and the sole girl was doing work.)

After them, as I entered my sixth hour of straight teaching, the 12 graders came. They have no textbook and I had no plan, so I whipped out some Newsweeks I have stashed there and had them peruse the contents. I spoke to them, asked them personal questions about what they plan to do next year...Some of the girls speak really well, but most of those kids have just passed through the system. Therefore, most of their replies were in Bulgarian, which I promptly explained in English.

Finally, they were done and I thought I would be able to run home for a quick bite to eat before my teacher's course at 2. As I was writing in the Materialna Kniga, the only loyal members of the class came up and said they wanted an earlier lesson, so I agreed. We went back upstairs, and I taught for my seventh straight hour. They are fun to teach though...And we got through a lot of new verbs.

I decided to wait until 2 in case someone came at the designated time...I was SURE no one would (the only loyal members had already been there). But sure enough, I heard the thud of footsteps coming down the hall. They were slow, so I knew they were the footsteps of my assistant director, a woman feared by almost everyone but who likes me because I tutor her privately (she is too advanced for the regular teacher course). So, I slowly talked to her and listened to her for an hour. It's not hard to work one-on-one, but it is still tiring to be essentially "teaching English" for 8 hours straight.

Once her hour was up I rushed out of the building and hightailed it home to hide...I have decided not to answer the door or the phone (though generally no one comes or calls). I need to detox from this never-ending day.