I LOVE TEACHING!
I just have to say that. I was asked last minute to teach a class at a local school and threw a lesson together. It went really well and was watched by a couple teachers, then they asked me to teach the same lesson to the next class.
I miss being in the classroom, I really do. I only got to teach two classes a week in Obhiev, and I thought my only chance to teach kids would be at my weekly English club, but I may be filling in at this other school a little bit, which would be great. I'm sorry, but giving seminars to adults is simply not as much fun as teaching kids. So, in any case, Ш had a great couple lessons and фь feeling great about that.
I HATE UKRAINIAN GROCERY STORES!
After I taught, I went to go get some chips and a soda before I hurried back to the institute to finish writing the Listening and Speaking portions of the upcoming regional Olympiad (big competition for Ukrainian students; very important). It's not a great lunch, I know, but I knew I could grub more when I got home.
In any case, I stopped at a local gastronom, a little market store. Most shopping in Zhytomyr is still done in the big open air market near the center of town, but there are a lot of small market stores on the corners. The problem with these stores is that they're set up to prevent theft. There's a long counter that wraps around the interior of the store, and all the food and beverages are on the walls behind the counter. The counter of this particular gastronom was staffed by four women, and each had their own little section and register.
So I have to go to where the chips are and ask that woman for the chips. She gets them for me and rings them up. Then I go to the other end of the counter where the drinks are. I ask for a Fanta. The lady standing there tells me she's not the drinks lady, she's the meat lady. The drinks lady will be back in a while, she says. The meat lady goes back to staring off into oblivion while a line starts forming behind me of people waiting to buy beverages. The meat lady is right there, doing nothing, but it's not her job to get the drinks. She gets the meat. Ten minutes go by, and I finish eating my chips.
The people behind me start to get impatient and tell the meat lady she needs to get the drinks. Frankly, I wasn't sure she was allowed to get the drinks, so I didn't want to bug her about it. I was glad the people behind me decided to do it for me. Finally, in a huff, she moves two feet, gets the Fanta for me, and rings it up. This is why I don't like Ukrainian grocery stores.