Every single weekday here consists of pacing like a caged tiger around a table full of kids as they scream out “TEACHER HERLP PREASE” and “TEACHER I AM DONE” because these are THE ONLY ENGLISH WORDS THEY KNOW AND THEY WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER TRY SOMETHING BECAUSE THEY EXPECT ME TO GIVE THEM EVERY SINGLE ANSWER, wrangle through Korean Confucianist half-answers and duckings and weavings with my supervisor whenever I ask for a REASON why something has to be done or a REASON why something hasn’t been done, sit at my computer doing endless plans which basically just equate to “NEXT FOUR PAGES IN THE TEXTBOOK” but arranged into a nice table for the fucking parents, and serving the kids lunch which apparently I haven’t been doing properly so my supervisor has started sitting on on my lunch periods and LITERALLY SPOONFEEDING the kids. Then at the end of the day I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, suck down a bottle of wine and plot my escape from this wretched place.

Truly, these are the best days of my life.

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