Let there be Fratzengeballer

This afternoon, was ... one of those afternoons, you know. It was pissing down outside, the lights were turned on inside, the overall prospects of the day getting anywhere were rather below average, and a deep and gnawing tristesse (I guess this word was invented for exactly this kind of situation) was digging its way mercilessly to the very spot inside the chest where you know it won't come out of again for a considerable time.

In those camomile-moments, it is wisest to just surrender, get back into bed, hide under the cover, drink camomile tea (hence the name) and wait till it is all over and the world seems a better place.

Instead of doing so, I went to work.
Bad mistake.

My first student today was my favourite one, Daftass*. Now Daftass and I have somewhat of a history. I have been teaching him for quite a while, or would have been, if he had made the effort of turning up every now and then. Instead, I spent about eight hours of my life over the course of two months, rushing to work and then waiting for the wee scunner to show up, which most of the time he chose not to do. To cut a long (and painful) story short, it all ended up with his mother starting to cry in my classroom (once), Daftass hiding in the car and not coming out (twice) and his mother finally taking him out of the school (at last).

And now ... he's back. Highly motivated by his mother's account (...yeah, right) and all of a sudden eager to learn.
Or so I was told.

Today was going to be our first lesson after all this comedia of the last weeks.
And what can I tell you ... as the clock struck 2 p.m. ... nothing happened. Nothing happened for about a quarter of an hour, and I was just on my way out to get a mug of really strong coffee, a vodka shot and some karate-lessons, muttering "I cannae believe it, I bloody cannae believe it...!" when nonchalantly there comes the kid strolling round the corner and into the doorway.

I ... was ... boiling.

I gave him a good verbal bashing that lasted about ten minutes, during which he did not once look at me or seem to understand what I was angry about.

He then proceeded to tell me that his teacher had told him these lessons were all a big rip-off.

If a fairy had appeard that moment, I had wished for some aspirin, a really really big hammer and forget about that third wish, thanks, that would be all.
No fairy did appear.

But, some comfort at least, at home, I have a pretty well stacked toolbox as well!


*Name has beenn changed for obvious reasons