The Cavemen

1.25pm.
2 Merpati. Funny this class should be named after a dove, it's anything but peace-loving.

Gripping my bag handles in my right hand, I purse my lips and breathe hard through my nose, not unlike a bull that's about to charge. In my left, I'm precariously balancing a pile of exercise books to be returned while my fingers just manage to grip the corner of the class register I have to fill in by 3pm.
I slowly make my way down the grimy corridor that already stinks of sweat and body odour yet to be introduced to deodorant. There are groups of students everywhere. The bell has just rung, and loungers always dash out to make full loafing use of the two minutes it takes for the next teacher to arrive. They just stand looking over the balconies into the distance as if they were prisoners given a two minute fresh air break before trooping back into their cells.

What is this life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare...' my thoughts drift to that breezy poem by William Henry Davies. Maybe he had a point.

I clear my throat loudly, announcing my presence with an "excuse me", to clear the path ahead, because just one nudge would send the pile of books tumbling across the corridor. They part like the Red Sea of course, lest I should ask for some help.

I step into the darkened cave the "doves" have somehow gotten accustomed to as a classroom and glimpse the sleepy, uninterested eyes that greet me. So much potential.

I find the switch, saying "let there be light", and flick on the bright florescent bulbs. Unfortunately, this "enlightenment" goes unappreciated, as I'm immediately greeted by groans and protests. They squint and scrunch up their faces, shielding their eyes. One girl goes so far as to swing her bag over her head to escape the "deadly glare"

"What are you... vampires?" I ask, my face showing mock concern, barely concealing a smirk.

 Silence..They don't get it. This too shall pass.

A muffled voice shouts "Teacher. No. light."
It is bag girl from beneath her sack.

Teacher-stride

Gearing up for my first day at school, I was the most outstandingly miserable person in the academic building. You see, I was already battling homesickness from the previous night (something that inevitably happens if your parents, come along to drop you off in a foreign state). That, coupled with the mental torture of finding my way to school, was enough to fatigue my poor heart. (boo-hoo)

As I pulled up into the car park that morning, I spotted a few students shuffling along slowly in groups heading up the slope towards the assembly area. I was acutely aware of my shoulders tensing up and I quietly shuddered as goosebumps raced up my arms. My heartbeat quickened and I froze, my hands still gripping the steering wheel. 'The enemy' I thought. In a quick desperate motion, I made the sign of the cross, something that had always put a temporary blockade on the insecurities of any circumstance. 

I got out of the newly painted Charade (also freshly blessed with bird droppings), collected both my bags and tried to compose myself in two seconds, before slamming the door shut (it won't shut otherwise) and slowly made my way to the office, in what I thought resembled a confident stride. A teacher- stride. 

Good Afternoooon teacherrrr...can we try that again....GOOD AFTERNOON TEACHER!

Hello again, reader! Let's skip the how-you've-beens...because I'm positive that your life has been peachy. Right then, spot light back on me?
I'm a teacher now.
It seems like, every time I blog, I'm working a different job.
You must think I'm most uncommitted. HA HA
Sold jeans, ushered for a bit, call center agent and now.... teacher? Now before you think, "oh right, those who don't do, teach"....slap yourself.

To grant anonymity, and for the fact that nothing I say may be particularly positive, I shall not mention the name of the school at which I'm posted. However, one may always ask me privately, if you really mustttt know.

Currently:
I'm still on the trial period.
I call it the Student Trial Period.
Must. Not. Break.
As they size me up.

I've never felt more in sync with the song "Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance. It is the current soundtrack of my life. If you haven't heard it, click on the link here

Anyhow, I'm not going to lie, the school I've been posted to, ain't no Convent. I guess the kids here grew up having different hobbies. So I'm going to try to put in some daily happenings about the them here. Give them the attention they are desperate for in class.

Give You Lah!

         

Mr. Teo: WHAT you mean I have to pay for the sim card. You all force me to buy one okay! If I know I won’t buy! Your stupid guy come and never tell me got charge.

Me: he didn’t? I’m sorry sir.Okay we’ll have to look into this. Which outlet did you visit sir?

Mr. Teo: ahh..oh Actually not your shop..I do online myself

Me: oh I see. You didn’t have a choice?

Mr.Teo: no! They simply add to my cart

Me: Actually they ask, sir, if you need one. There’s an option

Mr.Teo: okay whatever lah.. They still never tell got charges

Me: I understand Mr.Teo, but if you pick something online, it will be chargeable

Mr.Teo: my friend can get free how come I cannot get free. Double standard is it?

Me: what friend sir? Is he available? Can I speak to him?

Mr.Teo: aiya! Fed up la talk to you! Steal people’s money. Double standard shit service. Give you lah the 35 dollar.

                            ~~ABUTHEN!?~~
Me: is there anything else I can assist you with Mr. Teo?

Call Center la Uncle

On trying to avoid saying the word CALL CENTER

Uncle: ah so finished studies? still waiting for posting ah?

Me: *clears throat*... uhmm yes, hasn't come yet. 

Uncle: so not doing anything now?

Me: temporarily working in ...ermm.. for ..a telecommunications company.

Uncle: Hah?

Me: It's like in the customer service line uncle...

Uncle: okay? so what do you do??

Me: well,  we try to provide solutions to all the customers product/ service issues

Uncle: Owh like some mass comm job is it? good la...

Me: err..no la uncle.. not quite (NOT AT ALL)...

Uncle: okay? then? 

Me: okay, customers will call in if they have problems using the service, and we will tell them the best way to approach it. 

Uncle: Ohhhhh CALL CENTRE LA??

Me: ........ya

-always feels like a bloody game of taboo-

**************************************************************

call cen·ter

noun

1. an office set up to handle a large volume of telephone calls, especially for taking orders and providing customer service.
2. 
   

It's a horribly plain word that doesn't quite do the job justice. Call centre, implies we call people up and shove product down their throats, when in fact, we solve problems. It should be called Customer Resolutions Center. I understand that lengthening the name doesn't change what it is, but my goodness, "call center" describes so little! Who makes these calls and what do we do? 
-Find out in the next episode of the Call Center Girl- 

For now anyway, this is the latest with me. Whats happening with you these days? 

Shiritori

Boy yacht toy young gorilla apple egg

Okay this isn’t working, I just watched a TED talk video on how this simple game can be used to harness creativity. Think of word and then take the last letter of that word to think of a new word. The guy who gave the talk was really enthusiastic about how he got this fountain of ideas after coming up with a few words. Well, for the life of me, I cannot link gorilla, apple and egg. And I’ve gone on to twenty words. It’s getting harder to see the point of the exercise. But perhaps I wasn’t trying hard enough. Okay, here goes.

I once knew a boy who owned a yacht! Don’t get too excited. It was a 3 foot-tall toy yacht. I had always thought kids who played with over-sized toys while the rest of us struggled with our paper boats cum hats, were snotty and spoilt. Robert, to be metaphorically correct, was a young gorilla. Rude, raucous, rough and ridiculously rich. While the rest of us brought water and plain slices of bread summing up to a rather dry and tasteless meal time, Robert’s mother packed him a bright and shiny red apple and a tumbler of apple juice to go. At 4 I knew enough to appreciate that apples grew in England. Enid Blyton taught me that much. But this meant that every day a single apple was flown in from the UK to be fit into this detestable boy’s grimy little lunch box. This is how I know that Robert was rich.

Now although it looked spectacular in a way only a shiny red apple can, no one really fancied eating a single fruit for lunch. And I knew Robert secretly lusted after our thin margarine coated slices, as he bit into the hard mildly sweet fruit and hurt his little teeth. This thought gave me immense satisfaction. 

One day, Robert brought a hardboiled egg that was still in its shell! I love boiled eggs! After mummy peels them, they are soft hot and tasty enough without needing any salt and makes your tummy full after just one. As I opened my own lunch box and caught sight of the predictable oily sandwich that limply lay there, I looked up and eyeballed Robert who was getting ready to peel his egg. He lightly knocked it on the table top. I shut my eyes that very instant, and prayed hard that it was a raw egg that would crack open spilling stinky yolk all over his rich boy pants.  

Positive Thought of the Day: Don't think, Just Jump

Hesitance- a reluctance to do something quickly or immediately, usually because you are uncertain, embarrassed or worried

THE DEBATES:

When I was asked to join this national level debate, I was hesitant. I had had a single bad experience debating in high school, and still allowed the memory of that to dictate my thoughts and feelings. A small part of me was honoured that I was asked in the first place but my brain also furiously dug up the old mortifying memories; the loss for words, the stuttering, the nerves. I went back to my room allowing all these single tiny thoughts wash over me creating a tsunami of self-doubt; I'm hardly the person to do this; "If only they knew what a lousy debater I was", "I cannot", "I cannot", "I cannot do this."

While I felt my self drowning and looking for escape routes (couldn't someone else do it?)  I also momentarily thought of my other team mates on the trip;

One who seemed to be juggling the world on her plate, and still remained positive enough to brave yet another challenge thrown her way

One who had no prior knowledge of debates, but was keen on learning everything he could

One who was called at the last minute, two days before the debates, and immediately drove down to be part of the team

Hmmm, so, what was my excuse?

I didn't have anything else on my plate?
I HAD a bit of experience?
I was called weeks before the debates and could prepare?

Suddenly, I realised that if I changed my perspective, I was looking at all positives.
 When an opportunity floats along, don't think just jump.