Chapter 348

Again, I took my sweet-ass time and had to cut the dog’s morning walk short if I wanted to get to work reasonably on time. I’m becoming a slacker.

I listened to a bunch of metal and hardcore albums a friend sent me, and that I’ll have to review for his podcast. None particularly excited me, but they weren’t repulsive either. I’m becoming a bit bored with metal, I’m much more interested in exploring dubstep, vaporwave and other forms of weird electro music. Still, I’ll do what I have to do with as much utmost professionalism as I can muster.

I had a lab with the eleventh-graders. They were supposed to heat magnesium hydroxide powder to decomposition, which involves using annoying and scary powerful alcohol burners. Because of a Chinese law, high school labs can’t have gas lines, so we use those old pieces of shit. I tried changing the protocol so that they just heat the Mg(OH)₂ using mild heat but for longer, and there was a mass loss as expected, but smaller than what it should be. So, next time we’ll use the strong burners.

I went home for lunch and ate some fried rice the girlfriend made. I was all giddy to see a documentary on Harald Hardrada on my YouTube front page, and immediately clicked on it. It was excellent, covering the legendary Viking’s early life, from his first battle at age 15 to his exile in Ukraine and long stint as a mercenary chief for the Byzantine Empire, which brought him all the way from Jerusalem to Sicily. He’s my favorite historical character and though bits and pieces of his saga are likely to be exaggerated or fictionalized, he’s interesting as hell and they should absolutely make a movie or a well-produced TV series about him. In fact, he will be one of the characters in the upcoming Netflix reboot of Vikings, but my hopes are very low, it’s almost guaranteed they’ll write him as an effeminate buffoon controlled by a Strong Independent Woman™.

I had a class with the twelfth-graders right after lunch, and surprisingly they were all awake, having just come back from some presentation by the principal in the auditorium. I went over exam problems I gave them as homework last week, and checked half the books. A bunch of them had done nothing, so I told them to leave and come back when they’re finished. So, the left half of the classroom was sparsely populated throughout my review.

We had a meeting, and the first order of business was the Christmas dinner, that the head office said they wouldn’t subsidize this year. The principal and liaison officer decided it will still take place, and they’ll pay it out of their pockets. Pretty nice of them, especially since the bill will be quite high, it’s a fancy buffet we’re talking about. There were also a few other points on the agenda, and some grievances were raised, especially by the English department. Some Chinese teachers and “college counselors” (who couldn’t counsel their way out of a plastic bag, they’re more like glorified secretaries sending applications for the students) told the kids that learning English isn’t important, and they should focus on math and science. Other Chinese teachers (who don’t have a chip on their shoulder at all) told students explicitly that if they need to take time to rehearse their dances for the Christmas party or study for the TOEFL exam, they should do it during the foreign teachers’ classes, because they’re not as important. And there’s the good ol’ “the Chinese co-teacher has been teaching my half of the curriculum, did a half-ass job of it, and when confronted, said she wouldn’t do it again, just to do it again the following week”.

I know better than to get angry at dumb shit like that, as infuriating and demoralizing as it is. I realized long ago (albeit too late) that I’m paid to be there and not cause a fuss, the rest is secondary. Nihilistic? Yes, but also the key to happiness, and as it happens I’m quite happy and don’t want to jeopardize that state of affairs.

In the stairs, I was following three twelfth-grade girls, one had a hoodie with SUCRE EN POUDRE written on it.

“Why are you wearing this?”

“Uh, I don’t know... what does it mean?”

“You don’t know what is written on your shirt? What if it’s something biantai?”

They all start laughing. One of them interjects in Chinese “Oh yeah, our English teacher told us not to wear things with words we don’t know the meaning of”

Over the years I’ve seen some of the most jaw-dropping (and knee-slapping) cases of Chinese people wearing clothes with absurdly vulgar or disgusting slogans or sentences in English. But now, I reassured her, it just says “powdered sugar”.

I went home and cleaned the floor while distractedly watching a weightlifting instructional. Beyond the basics, it seems like a lot of fitness coaches argue or contradict one another, and YouTube being YouTube, they put clickbaity titles like “How to be SURE to LOSE your gains!” or “15 gym mistakes!!!!!!” or “The only exercise you ABSOLUTELY need” but there’s good info to be had in there as well. Then I headed to the gym and did my chest day.

I came back and took the dog for a spin. He made a new friend, a black poodle called Xiaoqi, being walked by two old women. We talked about our dogs, like middle-class suburbanites do. Then I went home, ate, read, and slept.