boys are weird

Okay, so you all tell me that I can occasionally be bubbly. Except Tif, who suggested that she didn't think of me as bubbly as she had only known me during the past year, which has been stressful. (Good, but stressful.)

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7th form boys...ah, yes. Oleh-who-isn't-in-my-class and Maksym came up to me at lunch today to show off how they had poked needles through the skin on their hands, sort of like splinters. I was, understandably, appalled, but they were delighted and kept showing everyone. Tanya and Vlada, 7th form girls, and I agreed: we don't understand boys. Male readers, please explain the fun of sticking a needle through your flesh, as it's beyond my comprehension.

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I put my 8th form in groups yesterday and made them write stories using our vocab words (plus a few extra "fun" words I knew they knew). The results: one love story, one story that involved a crazy boy sitting on a pig and saying "very bad words", and two groups that a) didn't want to work and b) didn't understand the concept of writing a creative story rather than retelling a text from the book. We looked up the word "imagine" and they still gave me weird looks.

Really, I teach so much more than just English. Creativity, group work, the value of each kid (even the slow ones)...these lessons will hopefully stick after they forget all the vocab and grammar I've taught them.

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Alosha, who is in my 8th form and is SO quiet, got a perfect on his take-home test this past weekend. And he was the only one, so I can't say he copied off of anyone. Now, if I can just get him to talk...

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It can drive me up the wall some days, but I love my job.