Performing Monkey

Emailed a student last Friday to organise this week’s lesson and heard nothing from him.  Because said student has a “business first” and English somewhere down the line attitude, the lack of response annoyed me, but I didn’t think too much of it.  I must point out that the student has been known to cancel via sms on Saturday afternoons, or by email on Saturday night (until I told him I had a life even if he didn’t), and to email me at 7.19am (like clockwork!) on Monday mornings.  Yet other times student is just absolutely useless at getting back with information to the point where I’m convinced he’s allergic to scheduling!  Either that or he just know it winds me up…

And so after hearing nothing from him, and since his lesson is due to be tomorrow morning at 7.30am, I was getting ever so slightly more peeved not knowing if I have to get up early tomorrow, can I rearrange other things, and should I prepare things?  I decide to email again this morning. By night time still nothing. Then I got reply after 8pm saying he was still sick and “Will give you a call or mail if there is a possibility for a next lesson”.  IF?  IF?  Bird flu?  Swine flu?  Cancer??  Yes, I had visions of him laying there at death’s door and yes, I started feeling very guilty for being peeved off at him.  Then realised that no, he’s not dying; he doesn’t mean if, he actually means WHEN there will be a next lesson!  And yes if vs when will be the next lesson!

Yes as a teacher, I take responsibility for his mistakes but this is the same soul who has exceptional skills in the art of sarcasm, better double entendre than many native speakers, and if given the opportunity, would excel in diplomacy…..yet still gets Tuesday and Thursday mixed up.  Anyway I hope he gets better soon because the week is always more entertaining and definitely challenging when he has lessons.

afootballreport:

By Max Grieve

Imagine this for a moment. In little over a month’s time, England, having finished as runners-up in their group at the European Championships, are playing Spain for a place in the semi-finals. Roy Hodgson’s men are literally filling the face of the goal; Gerrard instructing a human-tetris formation between the posts and the bar — and it’s working. Spain, like Barcelona and Bayern Munich before them this season, are struggling to take advantage of their overwhelming dominance. Somewhere else, Gary Neville gurgles in delight. The whistle comes; then sounds again as the two sides begin extra time. There are no goals.

Germany await the victors in Donetsk, and with no way of separating the teams, a 14-year-old boy is called onto the field, his eyes blindfolded, and asked to draw lots. The stadium is plunged into a deafening silence. After a moment, the boy holds Spain’s name above his head, and the artists in London begin photoshopping Hodgson’s face into a root vegetable for the next day’s front page. England are out; Spain are through. And they were so close.

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