Category: Work

Visa Run 2010

I’ve been living overseas for half of my life and applying for visas regularly throughout that time. It never gets easier. Hell, now I have to report every ninety days to immigration (in person or by mail-in form) just for the honor of living here.

At least tomorrow’s visa run is just an hour away, in Khon Kaen. It used to be in the border town of Mukdahan (famous for peppery pork sausage and a shitty Indochinese market), and before that, the border town of Nong Khai (famous for a “friendship” bridge that Japanese engineers would scoff at, plus a shitty Indochinese market), but I suppose they got tired of dealing with so many foreigners coming from hours away.

I’ve met people that travel around to different countries just collecting stamps in their passports, and I really despise them. Collect some for me, fuckers. I’ll give you my passport and all the other shit you need to extend my visa for a year, and you go stand in line with fifty other pissed off, whiny expats that wai to office shrubbery and tow around ugly village wives picking grasshopper legs out of their teeth.

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I fucking hate visa runs.

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UPDATE: I’m done! Everything went really smoothly this year; the staff at Khon Kaen immigration is great and the labor office in Maha Sarakham has always been understanding, if a little comfortably-paced.

Daddy needs money for a new clutch

Luckily, a rush editing job came in and daddy is going to do an all-nighter. Mommy took the kids to grandma’s house and our house is quiet and lonely. Max’s new fish and newer freshwater crab are playing tag, but more about that later when I have more time. Daddy is doing a job related to the Rockefeller Foundation, and that has absolutely nothing to do with the ROC (“yeah, number one clique here”), yo.

ran dry

My red pen just ran dry as I was correcting papers and it got me to thinking – I’ve never used a new pen until it ran out. Of course, I’ve had them stop running prematurely and finished up partially-used pens, but I can never seem to keep pens around from start to finish. Other people take them, or they just disappear magically, perhaps into the wormhole that most of my socks eventually seem to drop into, as well.

Also, I cannot remember how long it’s been since I’ve written a letter by hand. I used to do it every few years just for the novelty, but now… I’m definitely going to make the kids do it, though.

former student (graduate)

I got together with one of the brightest we’ve had last night. He’s a teacher himself now, in Surin province; he keeps in touch with his classmates (they only graduated this year) by phone. Out of a class of around thirty that graduated, half are in Bangkok doing various odd jobs, a few are teachers, one is in the military, and at least one made it overseas…

It made me feel like the manta in Finding Nemo.

ESL Lesson of the day – Son of of Bitch (i.e., Son of Bitch)

This video of a Korean English teacher explaining choice bits of slang and expletives had me snorting with laughter:

My favorite ESL-related clip of all time, though, is Harold Ramis’s opening scene in Stripes (I can’t believe it’s almost 30 years old – I remember watching it at the drive in with my parents):

Son of Bitch! Shit! – When you care enough to send the very best.

Saving you from yourself

A student scores a D on a final exam.
The teacher takes pity and bumps her to a C.
The student insists she deserves better and demands a retest.
The teacher points out the actual grade was a D.
The student is insistent and wants to retest in two days.
The teacher agrees with the condition that the retest will be final and scored from zero.
The student agrees, thanks the teacher for another chance, and promises to study hard.
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Two days hence, the teacher comes into work early to accommodate the student’s work schedule. He explains, again, that the retest will be scored anew and that the new grade will be final. He asks if the student is ready.
The student replies she is ready to take the test and has studied hard for it.
The teacher asks for the last time if the student is sure she wants to throw away the C and accept a new grade.
The student replies she is sure.
The teacher retests the student.
The student obviously hasn’t studied for the retest. She bombs the test, scoring an F.
The teacher feels pity and bumps her to a D.
The student gets angry, storms out of the room, and asks with tears in her eyes, “so you’re really going to give me a D?”
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There are bad teachers, there are bad students, and there are bad situations… What’s your excuse?