|A clear summer night sometime last week|
On a brighter note, yesterday I got to teach in a different classroom. It was quieter and slightly cooler and plastered in military propaganda. What's inside a bullet, how to throw a grenade, how to disassemble a machine gun. This is the гражданская оборона (civil defense) classroom. "Service in the armed forces of Ukraine- test yourself and become a real professional!" reads a big banner around the room. It wouldn't be quite so shocking if the students here weren't 8 years old. My students, the adults, told me that they'd received this kind of education too, except that females studied "softer" subjects like caring for the wounded. I talked about this with D at home and he told me the same story: in fact, he fired a Klashnikov 2 years before his first kiss... and he wasn't a late bloomer.
Despite the heat both of us have been running around town for job interviews. D's had many interviews with no offers and now, suddenly, several offers all at once. The no-offer period kind of sucked, as you can imagine, but now the future seems more hopeful. I didn't intend to go on any interviews, but a company he interviewed with called back for me and I went to talk with them. There was a writing job, which I really fancied. Teaching is great but it can be a bit like giving blood; you're doing something good for society but it takes time (and cookies) to recuperate. Some days I love teaching, other days I long to work with paper. Anyways, the writing job didn't work out. The details of the job were a little vague, and by the time I heard back from them the job requirements had changed beyond what I could do. Then there was a possible phone job but it didn't seem like a good fit right now. The thing that really stood out for me about these interviews is how...psychological? they were. The majority of the questions seemed like Psych 101 questions.
|Famous last words: Oh, I'm sure we'll be back before it starts to rain!|
During the next break in the storm there was a rush to get off the streets. Unfortunately this involved crossing a fast-moving river that had sprung up at the bottom of a hill. Most chose to wait and risk another rainfall instead of crossing the street. I mean, some smaller cars couldn't even make it though the water! A woman next to us tried and she got swept off her feet by the current and ended up on her back in the water. Next a man stepped off the curb and attempted to ford the river. He made it, minus one shoe that had been vacuumed off his foot by the force of the water. In frustration, he kicked off his remaining shoe into the river once he made it to the other side.