Black Thursday

Unlike many of my other comrades teaching in Hungary, I've got alternating Week A/Week B schedules which leaves me constantly having to refer to my folded, crinkly, ripped timetables. Seems as though two different schedules are too much for me to memorize.

Week B Thursday is the day that I look to with furrowed brow. Six lessons in a row from 8:00-1:30 with no break. Yes, it's manageable and sometimes I admit to sounding like a baby when I complain about what I have now dubbed, "Black Thursday," but still it leaves one a little exhausted.

My throat is raw from shouting at 1st graders who scurry around the room like mice with noisemakers.

And my forehead is permanently tensed from frowning at mischievous 8th graders who sit in the back smelling strongly of B.O., with one earbud from their MP3 player in ear chanting over and over again the equivalent of "F***" in Hungarian. A phrase that I learned quickly here.

Note to kids everywhere: When you clasp your hand over your mouth, eyes wide, after saying something in class...the teacher MAY catch on that it's not appropriate even if she does NOT speak your language.

At any rate, this was the first Black Thursday that I've completed in about a month and then some. It feels good to have accomplished that. My throat is a little scratchy and my head is harboring a dull pain, but at any rate, I don't have to do that again for another two weeks!

I called in sick on Black Thursday Thanksgiving, because I was so tired and exhausted that if I had gotten out of bed and taught that day, I probably would have said some pretty nasty things to students that shouldn't be said, in my cranky state. The next Black Thursday, I made it through the first three lessons and then went home sick, collapsing into bed not understanding what was wrong with me. Only later would I know that it was mono rearing its ugly head.

And now, after my refreshing glass of cool Peach Nestea, I can still hear the Pussycat Dolls blaring from the hallway that is attached to my apartment, separated by a wall. Everyday at about 2:30-3:30, a certain group of unknown kids start to play three PCD songs on a continuous and dreadful loop that they attempt to sing along to.

My question is: Do I have to teach Pussycat Dolls songs to get these godforsaken kids to speak English?