I Done a Bad Thing George

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I think I have the reason I feel at home in Cambodia. In most respects, it's a country that differs greatly from my homeland of Ohio, USA. Culturally speaking, most manners of interaction are the dead opposite Americans'. Most Americans, that is, except for my family. In my family, there are NO PROBLEMS, and we certainly do not assert ourselves when necessary. Everything in my family's belief system can be attributed to the Will of God, Jesus Christ, Karma, or some combination of these things. Showing one's anger is an absolute No-No; an angry outburst will only get you looked down upon.

Absolute politeness at all times, "even if you detest that person" as I was literally told at the age of nine. Don't forget the incessant laughter in the face of things that simply aren't funny--like cancer, second mortgages, and drug addictions.

Perhaps as a consequence, we tend to manifest our rage and grief rather passive-aggressively--we play martyr, we make snarky comments, and mostly we sleep. We put things off till tomorrow, if we bother to do them at all. So many things don't actually need to be said and done. And yet, every so often, the rage builds to the point that we have a huge blow-up, we destroy at least one-quarter of the family unit, and all our neighbors look at us thinking, "What the hell?"

These are things which I used to despise in my parents and step-parents, and twenty years later here I am having fully assimilated these values and unable to effectively cope in American society. The Khmers don't have a problem with me though, largely because their society can be every bit as stubbornly lackadaisical as that of my family.

And no matter how well-equipped I am, that seems to be where I hit a stumbling block today.

I have told my readers about my love-hate relationship with my kindergarteners. They're wonderfully fun kids, and 30 of them are virtually impossible to control when you speak a foreign language. Keep in mind, I have virtually no supplies to entertain them with, and I was never given any clear expectations on what exactly I am supposed to be doing with them. The closest my boss came to telling me was, "It's easy".

Every day was a day mired in frustration and humiliation as I tried and repeatedly gave up trying to control 30 five-year-olds. Sometimes, the Khmer assistants would step in and lecture the kids. And that was REALLY humiliating.

Now I don't really work that well with kids to begin with, but all my protestations fell on deaf ears.

Me: "I have to warn you, I'm really not good with kids."
Boss: "Don't worry, it's easy."


Me: "I'm really having trouble teaching the kindergarteners."
Boss: "We need a female to teach kindergarteners."
Me: "But I--"
Boss: "Please don't argue."


Me: "I'm really having problems!"
Boss: "You have taught before haven't you??"


Me: "We seem to be having discipline problems. What are the procedures for sending students to the office?"
Boss: "We don't take kids in the office. If you have some problem, ask your Khmer assistant."
Khmer Assistant: *frantically grades papers throughout the class*

Tired of having my competency challenged, tired of sexism, tired of exerting downward pressure on young 'uns, and not wanting to create drama with Khmer assistants, I spoke to the Director of Studies telling him I wanted more hours teaching adults and wished to quit teaching the kids.

Me: "I'm really not good with kids."
Director: "We don't have any more hours at the time you requested. If you have some problem, talk to your boss."
Me: *gives Director dirty look*

And that was why, fifteen minutes later, I shoved every course book in my possession into his arms, uttering the words, I Quit. He had the nerve to ask me why, to which I calmly informed him that if he was unwilling to offer me the courses I needed, I was unwilling to work for him. At that point, he laughed at me as if I were a ridiculous child; I turned and walked to the door and kept on walking...and walking...and walking.

My boss called me later on and asked me what was wrong today, which I felt was actually very sweet of him. However, my heart was stone cold and utterly set against his general incompetence; unwilling to admit that I would indeed prefer a change in classes lest he challenge my competency yet again, I simply refused to negotiate with him on the issue saying that it was simply time to move on.

So, for the second time in six weeks, I am an unemployed quitter. It's a shame. That was a real good job, too, if only they would have let me teach to my talent.

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[seamallowance]

Damn. I'm sorry. If you feel like venting to me on Skype, I'm all ears.