My TEFL Course is paying off, because I am able to plan my lessons a lot better and they are much more interesting. The acid test will be what they will do (or won’t do) to my salary.
The downside of my fabulously colourful (mostly) lessons, is that I permanently feel like I was run over by a truck. It’s damn hard work coming up with creative ideas for your classes (and I have 18 classes a week, of which 10 are unique). The limits imposed on me by my employers make for a further challenge.
But let’s not get into that, shall we. I have other things to moan about.
“Go out and have some fun”, says a friend of mine not realising what a black hole I find myself in. “English is not the language of love”, she adds wisely. Clever girl, this friend of mine.
But between having to maintain a wholesome image in this relatively small city where everyone knows someone that knows you, and dodging the minefield created by the language barrier, which stands between you and relationships and friendships and sex of any kind, I just can’t see it happening.
I’ve started to look at this year in Shiyan as my year of abstinance. From sex with another person at least. The only state my mind can seem to make sense of this lack of close contact and affection from a woman.
Not for lack of trying; I have. I have the burnt fingers to prove it. But the strings that tie me (the image of a teacher, work schedule, lack of language competancy, small cirle of friends) all pull in different directions at the same time, leaving me quite stationary in the middle.
And between being tired of fighting these forces and planning my lessons, I barely have enough fight left to tear the wrappers off my rice cakes.
I’ve counted the days. There are 126 days left until the end of my contract.
Beyond that? Infinity?