On Saturday I woke up with a fever, but I had to teach a class that morning so I couldn't stay in bed. Yes, the same class that my vice principal said I shouldn't do and that I said I wasn't continuing under any circumstances. Well, being the responsible and kind person that I am, I agreed to finish out this month since I felt bad for initially accepting and then backing out on the job.
Of course the class was torture. At one point one of the heftier students had another smaller kid pinned up against the wall and was nearly strangling him. My attempts to split them apart were useless. As were my hoarse yells for them to sit down. Luckily, just as they were taking it into the hall, another Native-English teacher was walking by the room and he tackled the big kid and held him down while I retrieved the Korean teacher. She came down with her stick and led the two troublemakers upstairs and I tried to carry on with class. Five minutes later both boys walked back into the room and sat down. What? That's it? He nearly killed his classmate and he's back in class five minutes later? I was beginning to seriously doubt my qualifications for being in that room. It's one thing to fail to get anything productive done in class, but to fail to ensure everyone's safety is another. It was later clarified that the littler kid had apparently called the bigger one "gay" and set him off.
When the Korean English teacher was driving me home she mentioned that she had talked to my vice principal about my teaching at her school and he was now okay with it. "So you can continue teaching here if you want," she said. Then she explained the cause of the fight that went on earlier. Apparently the littler kid had called the bigger one "gay."
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