Chicken feed and dementors

It’s enough to send a chap east.

Yesterday one of my colleagues who, in spite of the brevity of the term so far, has been vocal in his inclination to go to the airport and leap straight on the next plane flying out to Sanity, hinted that he’d made up his mind that enough was enough.

Today he officially announced that he was buggering off at the end of term. His two reasons for departing were inadequate remuneration and the utter hopelessness of teaching the Upper Sixth. It seems that Mr Bradford has expenses and that what he’s paid doesn’t cover it. I can understand why he’d find the Upper Sixth soul-destroying. That’s the reason I won’t go near them.

Do we not get paid enough? Frankly, no. I may get paid a Western salary, but I’ve just reached the average salary in the UK and if I did have expenses, I wouldn’t be earning enough. I also feel insulted that it’s going to take me another six years to earn what my colleague who teaches economics is currently paid. It’s not that I want her to be paid less, but rather that I’d like not to be insulted for a.) teaching EFL and b.) having a PhD. I’m already intellectually humiliated as it is.

Meanwhile in pre-AL α, indifferent Ethel spent another class paying no attention whatsoever. When I looked at her summary, it was, like all else she does, minimal; yet she probably thought she’d worked herself to the bone. She’s like Χάρις in pre-AL β in that she’s lazy and hostile. She’s the sort of student with whom it’s impossible to establish any sort of rapport. In general I don’t really have anything bad to say about pre-AL α, but indifferent Ethel is that class’s black hole. Can’t guess what her real problem is, but I wonder whether she doesn’t want to be in this programme.

On the other hand, if she thinks she’s too good to be doing an intermediate-level English course, she lives in a world of extreme self-delusion. She’s going to be an even bigger pain next year.

I’ve yet to reach the stage where I cannot out-think a class of school children who are about a third of my age. They ought to be embarrassed that some soggy-brained old idiot like me still has more going on upstairs than they ever will