My English anxiety for organisation and punctuality has definitely softened over the past nine weeks. Mostly through the need to survive the reality that nothing really every runs on time nor to plan. My last day of teaching is the archetypal ting-tong (mad) school day.
The internet has been down for a couple of days now (so excuse the very delayed posts!) but it hasn't really crossed my or P'Om's minds that this will be a problem for our spontaneous English camp on Thursday. We're too busy to think through the potential pitfulls. With leaving parties, visiting friends and filling in the excessive amounts of paperwork to prove that I have taught the hours I have, there's hardly a spare five minutes.
Thursday comes, still no internet and now no working printers. We're faced with sixty children and three hours of pictionary, bingo and non-existant sheets. I re-copy sheets, re-moulding them frantically so that the students aren't too peeved at re-visiting familiar work.
Teams, competitions and prizes means only one thing: a lot of screaming children. I'm on pictionary, which lets me see how many of the words they've actually absorbed over the past nine weeks. A little disheartening when an elephant becomes the number 11, a shoe becomes a sock and words like Thursday, sleep and sharpener are still a challenge; but they carry on regardless.
The day blurs past in a sweaty frenzy and I'm glad to be called into the airconditioned meeting room in the afternoon for some cool relief. I arrive to be placed in front of all the children, ready to receive their handmade cards, gifts, hugs, a smattering of kisses, and handshakes from the older more awkward boys. 180 students later and the camera is still clicking.
I dread to think what the photos look like, but they're probably a pretty accurate representation of the affects of nine weeks of overwhelming affection and indescribably energetic children.