Day 18 – nothing goes according to plan.

A great start to the week.
I woke up early for my Russian lesson, knowing deep down that something was going to go wrong. Would Ulan phone me and ask me to cover some classes, or would Olga phone to cancel the lesson?
The phone rang just before eight: it was Ulan. “Ben, I need you to come in. Danny is sick.” I explained that I couldn’t work, because I had a Russian lesson. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. He had a class sitting there without a teacher for 20 minutes already. In the end I gave him the phone number of Olga and told him to sort it out with her while I had a shower.
He phoned back almost immediately to tell me he’d spoken to Olga, and she was going to let him know. I still had serious doubts about my ability to learn Russian in German if neither of us spoke German that well.

The phone rang again. This time it was Olga. Or was it? She sounded different. She asked me if I could manage a different time because 8.30 was no good for her. I was confused: surely Ulan had told her that he needed me to teach? I didn’t mention this, and suggested a later time. Ulan had assured me I only needed to cover one or two lessons this morning. That was ok for her. I asked for her phone number in case I needed to contact her again: it was completely different from the previous number she gave me. Aha! So this was a different person. Ulan then phoned again to make sure I was coming to school. Poor Bolek probably didn’t appreciate all these phone calls so early in the morning

I finally made it to school 45 minutes into the lesson. There were only three students left. After the lesson, still no sign of Danny. Where was the half-French Canadian? Nowhere to be found. Ulan told me he’d spoken to my other potential Russian teacher: her name was Dunya. Danny still wasn’t there, so I had to cover another lesson. Elementary Talking Club, again. The same topics, all over again: What did you do at the weekend? I stayed at home. What, all weekend? Yes. One problem is that for people here the weekend is only one day long. Most schools and universities are apparently open on Saturdays too.
Coaxing more out of them was hard work, but they seemed happy enough with it. “Walking with my friends” seems to be all anybody does here (though with the accent I asked at least four students before I realised that they were saying “walking” and not “working”.) Many of the girls dislike Sundays, because that’s when they have to clean their homes.

After the lesson, still no sign of Danny. Half-French Canadian swine. I’d give him a good kick in his derriere when I saw him. Ulan told me that he’d rearranged my Russian lesson again, this time for 11.40, and because he was suspicious about the Olga-Dunya double entity, he’d phoned both of them and told them to come to the school for an interview.
Lena arrived to talk to Ulan about me signing a contract finally. She left after half an hour, and still no contact had been signed. Next lesson: Elementary Talking Club. The same topics, all over again. I could hardly contain my excitement, but again the students seemed happy enough. We managed to talk for a good 10 minutes about kashka, most of which was spent with me trying to work out what on earth it is. Porridge, apparently. You try describing porridge to someone who doesn’t speak the same language as you and doesn’t even know the word ‘oats,’ and you’ll see how hard it is.

Next: my Russian lesson. Olga didn’t appear, but Dunya did and she seemed to know what she was doing. If I’d found three consecutive lessons of “What do you do in the morning” exciting, this was even more gripping: I didn’t progress beyond three-letter words until near the end of the lesson. “Who is this? This is Mama. Who is this? This is Papa.” But to be fair to Dunya, she seems to be making sure I know the basics in Russian, and I was surprised how thorough she was. Communicating in German wasn’t easy, but I managed to grasp the intricacies of Mama’s and Papa’s names. Russian is not an easy language and I still get confused by some of the letters, so a thorough grounding in the alphabet – both the printed and the hand-written forms – is no bad thing.

Lunch break: home, food, sleep. It’s just like being a student again. Today I didn’t have to teach Little Miss Sunshine, which was a relief.

The afternoon was long. It’s difficult to connect with students when you don’t have a regular timetable, and it’s difficult to prepare for each lesson. My least favourite class is still there at 3.00, and I’m still their least favourite teacher. Lessons from 7.40am till 10pm, with a Russian lesson and a bowl of pasta in between, make it a long day.