Mexican school mind fuck.

I am teaching English in a small Mexican town with no safety net. It’s usually pretty entertaining, as my Spanish is Caveman level on its best days, present tense verbs and pointing and basic vocabulary. They say to live in the moment. I do. I love my bubble of ignorance, most days. When I moved here was when they killed those 43 teacher training candidates in Oaxxco and when the last of the investigative journalists were getting gunned down for writing anti-government stories.

The bubble was rocked this week by the owner of my school, a business woman who runs a school known for discipline. A kid called me a name when I tried to get him working, twenty minutes into the period. They have a great time pretending not to know English in my class. I usually let things slide. I am old. But this was a clear violation, I thought, of the green pencil of respect that is posted in the stairwell. I love the green pencil of respect. I refer to it often. It is a strange enough concept to be memorable and serves as a warning that I might start tripping. The kid was upset that I had penetrated his bubble of ignorance and was not happy that the assignment was rather lengthy. I understand why he said “cabron!”. What cannot happen is the use of profanity, that’s something that is easy for kids parents to hear about and get interested in the inner workings of my English Class. Nope. Easy penalty flag.

So, long story short, the owner of the school expressed to me that she KNOWS the kid, has known him for years and he would tell her if he said it. He would never lie to her and I must have made a mistake. This was after her investigation of all the possible witnesses. This is one of those classic “he said” , “no I didn’t” situations. As a business woman I can see why shoe would stick up for her customer. I am now the dangerous stranger in the school. Who hears things.

I am trying to figure out what this means in my life going forward. I know I am not ready for a life full of auditory hallucinations. This one was bad enough. She KNOWS the kid. I must be wrong. I must have made a mistake. Another part of the story is I gave the kid five minutes to offer exactly what word he said that begins and ends the same way and he refused. Maybe the most beautiful part of the story that he received a standing ovation when I sent him to the office. Which I thought was sweet. Apparently they were buoying him up because in past trips to the office he would cry and this time he just popped up and went. I took it a different way of course.

So here’s a kid who is changing as all kids do. Growing into manhood. But never lying because my boss is a sorceress. So in one aspect, my work is done, I guess. One more man created. I will need some time to get used to the auditory hallucinations that I guess are part of my life now and a reality that I need explained to me by the witch who runs the school. But life is dymanic. You get down or you lay down. Cool. I suppose I could start by fabricating a discipline school that I did work for and how they handled things. That could buy me a few more pay checks while I plan the next cash caper. I have to think how much breathing room I have and it is four weeks until the rent is due and I have about 75 bucks. I am rich in Mexico. I guess I am up for this new challenge, it sure will be different being the guy who hears things. Maybe this is how all mystics started? I WAS born in Mystic Conn…I can see the fun coming and I guess I have adjusted my reality to fit that of the school. Ok. Bring it.

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