I Will Sing, And You Will Be Mine

So said one little unibrowed eighth-grader who apparently intends to win my heart at the spring concert.  At least, this is what I understood...so much gets lost in translation here.  (Note: Many thanks to the anonymous tipster who pointed out my use of a very bad cliche in my last post.  There's another one for you.)

I have to keep reminding myself that the primary reason I am here is to teach English.  Some days, school seems to be no more than a minor inconvenience, just a break in a routine otherwise filled with reading, sleeping, and eating.  I didn't come here with any grandiose ideas about touching lives or impacting whole communities, but some days, when I can't seem to shake an ounce of understanding into the students' tiny brains, I want to shout, "Do you ungrateful brats KNOW what I've given up back home to be here?!  Do the words 'Real Housewives of Atlanta' mean anything to you??" 

I broke a cardinal rule of teaching today: I stormed out of the classroom.  My mom, a substitute teacher herself, told me to never, ever lose my patience in front of students, and I did, in a most spectacular fashion.  I couldn't shush them anymore, couldn't tell them to put away their phones one more time, couldn't keep yelling the same instructions over their clatter.  And so I grabbed my bag, said, "Fine, class is over," and walked away. 

Immediately, I knew I'd screwed up.  For 40 minutes a day, I am responsible for those kids; abandoning them is not an option.  So after a few minutes of decompressing in the teacher's lounge (god, to have had a cigarette at that moment...and I don't even smoke), I went back to the classroom, accepted the students' apologies, and gave my own.  Class resumed, and for ten minutes the students smilingly put up with my goofy food game, then, still smiling, handed me my things, opened the door, and chimed, "Goodbye, Ms. Nadya!" 

Days like today, I do find myself wishing my work here were more appreciated.  I think it's only natural that when we invest our time into anything, we want to know that it's for a good reason.  We want to know we're making a difference with whatever we do.   

I don't kid myself into thinking I'll make a difference with every student.  I know that when I leave in June, the majority of them still won't speak two words of English, and most will forget I ever existed--they certainly don't owe it to me to do so.  But my little eighth-grade admirer proved to me today that there is at least one student who likes having me around, and I can't ask for more than that.

Although a statue in my honor would be nice...