Post by con's fly is open on Jun 7, 2005 0:59:48 GMT 7
Having gotten Woza safely onto the bus to Dalian, I took a leisurely stroll back to the school. but on the way, the sun broke out and blared on my bald head, and the hangover arrived 
, so I ducked into an internet bar. It must have been a phone modem connection, because I couldn't log onto the Saloon- has anyone else noticed this?
It got steadily worse all day.
Then I had to go to dinner with two of my students and their parents. They're lovely folks- Jerry's father's a schoolteacher himself- and they said a lot of awfully kind things, and expressed their hopes that I could find a wife in Dalian and stay in China (read: Dashiqiao teaching their kids) forever. I was deeply touched by this emotional blackmail show of appreciation, and clinking glasses of beer actually helped my hangover- I know, I know, hair of the dog.
Then they suggested we go sing karaoke.
In fine Canadian tradition, "m'kay you" came out out my mouth as "Sure! Sounds like fun", and we whisked off, sans kids, to the club.
By club, I mean we were stuck in our own room with dance floor, karaoke machine and wall projector. Right off the bat, they handed mikes to Mandi and me, and selected a song for us.
The song: "All By Myself" by Celine Dion. 
Remember, we didn't have to merely listen to Sphincter Mouth sing, we had to sing along, at Sphincter Mouth's pitch (way above mine), and follow Sphincter Mouth's trilly up-and-down rococo excess. Oh, and the lyrics didn't appear on the screen, so we didn't know the verses, where my voice had at least a chance, and just piped in for the chorus.
Finally the song ended, and, larynx in shreds and testicles reascended, sat down... to a 2-hour Worst Singer in China contest- the winner was me, when my voice gave out in the second half of "Dancing Queen by Abba. The fathers were drunk by now, and singing at a volume that would have drowned out machine guns.
Then the non-teaching father started to talk to me. Nice guy, but doesn't speak a lick of English. Eventually I waved Lynn over, and she translated: it was something along the lines of We are brothers. China and Canada are both great, you're a good teacher, and it's nice to get out of the house. 
Finally, since there was no fire alarm to pull, I started yawning a lot. Half an hour later my headmaster, who had joined us and was as hung over as me, gave Lynn the eyebrow signal; she found a way to get them to notice me yawning, and then Jerry's mother said the greatest word I've ever heard: "Go!"
Back at the school I got into the office and booted up to the Saloon. And then Leo, albeit a hell of a guy who hasn't had a day of in two months, informed me:
- The new class that Mandi was going to take will instead be taught by me.
- Twice a week.
- One of those days being Wednesday, right after my days off.
- They have taken English for only one month.
- Which means they aren't housetrained.
- So I'll have to draw multitudes of pictures and prepare heaps of shiny objects.
- And teach them the alphabet.
- Reteach them- they haven't had a class in a month.
Barkeep, a bag of ice, please, and the bottle of valium in the Lost and Found box. And if anyone wishes to play a Celine Dion tune at the Saloon, be a dear and shoot me in the back of the head first.
, so I ducked into an internet bar. It must have been a phone modem connection, because I couldn't log onto the Saloon- has anyone else noticed this?It got steadily worse all day.
Then I had to go to dinner with two of my students and their parents. They're lovely folks- Jerry's father's a schoolteacher himself- and they said a lot of awfully kind things, and expressed their hopes that I could find a wife in Dalian and stay in China (read: Dashiqiao teaching their kids) forever. I was deeply touched by this Then they suggested we go sing karaoke.
In fine Canadian tradition, "m'kay you" came out out my mouth as "Sure! Sounds like fun", and we whisked off, sans kids, to the club.By club, I mean we were stuck in our own room with dance floor, karaoke machine and wall projector. Right off the bat, they handed mikes to Mandi and me, and selected a song for us.
The song: "All By Myself" by Celine Dion. Remember, we didn't have to merely listen to Sphincter Mouth sing, we had to sing along, at Sphincter Mouth's pitch (way above mine), and follow Sphincter Mouth's trilly up-and-down rococo excess. Oh, and the lyrics didn't appear on the screen, so we didn't know the verses, where my voice had at least a chance, and just piped in for the chorus.Finally the song ended, and, larynx in shreds and testicles reascended, sat down... to a 2-hour Worst Singer in China contest- the winner was me, when my voice gave out in the second half of "Dancing Queen by Abba. The fathers were drunk by now, and singing at a volume that would have drowned out machine guns.
Then the non-teaching father started to talk to me. Nice guy, but doesn't speak a lick of English. Eventually I waved Lynn over, and she translated: it was something along the lines of We are brothers. China and Canada are both great, you're a good teacher, and it's nice to get out of the house. Finally, since there was no fire alarm to pull, I started yawning a lot. Half an hour later my headmaster, who had joined us and was as hung over as me, gave Lynn the eyebrow signal; she found a way to get them to notice me yawning, and then Jerry's mother said the greatest word I've ever heard: "Go!"
Back at the school I got into the office and booted up to the Saloon. And then Leo, albeit a hell of a guy who hasn't had a day of in two months, informed me:
- The new class that Mandi was going to take will instead be taught by me.
- Twice a week.
- One of those days being Wednesday, right after my days off.
- They have taken English for only one month.
- Which means they aren't housetrained.
- So I'll have to draw multitudes of pictures and prepare heaps of shiny objects.
- And teach them the alphabet.
- Reteach them- they haven't had a class in a month.
Barkeep, a bag of ice, please, and the bottle of valium in the Lost and Found box. And if anyone wishes to play a Celine Dion tune at the Saloon, be a dear and shoot me in the back of the head first.
Review, review, review. On the bright side, I checked the attendance sheet and two of the sprogs are former students of mine- should help getting the class onside. Plus the boy-girl ratio is even... for once. Too many boys and it's a zoo 
; too many girls and I can hear crickets chirping. 
I have a plan to vist Shanghai just before summer vacation, when the deluge of bored kids descends upon our school. Before that I'll hit Dalian, and pop over to visit Ruth and Crippler.
