Dont call me teacher
A tall, large man in his 30s or 40s dressed as smart as a teacher stepped into our class. Well, he’s a teacher after all. Our new English language teacher. Following him was our former teacher. “Okey class. This man right here is going to be your new English teacher for the next few weeks. So..I’d better get going.”
Yeap, you heard it right. For the next few weeks. Well. truth is, that he’s a fresh graduate from UNIMAS (that’s University of Sarawak, Malaysia if you don’t know) and hes here for his teaching practice.
Now, anyone would have high expectations of a fresh graduate with a degree on the English language. So, we stared at him. He stared at us. Birds chirped. Wind blew. Leaves fall. Someone sneezed. Teacher smiled. We dozed off (lol, joking). He grabbed the name list. I want to know you all. When I call out your names I want you to introduce yourselves. We frowned.
So, the class went on. He wasted two whole periods on introducing, surveys and talking. And my, oh my, does his English suck. All those simple grammar mistakes, such as the usage of ‘is’ and ‘are’, plural or singular and bla bla bla. What the Fish? I feel so like slapping him saying: What the hell have you been doing for the last three years in university?? and for the last twelve years teaching English?! Holy cow, man..
The bell rang.
Oh yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. *Pictures Donald Trump saying: “You, suck. You’re FIRED!”