I have so much frustration coursing through my veins that it would kill a moose. My sweat comes out as blocks of salt. And my back has enough knots to sail the Mayflower.
This is teaching.
You have days like mine today. I taught more than two hours over my time (something I can do in Burkina without worry), trying to get my students to be quiet and do their exercises. It is tough being that teacher that borders between strict and fun. Yes, we can sing song and make jokes with what we learn in English. No, we cannot turn in sloppy work and just blabber (especially if it’s not English).
Then there is the frustration of speaking in a second language. Add the racial issue. Add the poverty issue. Add the cultural differences. Add the educational differences. Add the structural differences. Add the weather differences. Add the differences in living conditions.
The amount of frustration in my blood could kill a moose but I have a smile on my face.
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