Just got done with the American Councils "Training of Teachers" for their upcoming pre-departure orientations for students going to American on the FLEX program. My role this year was of "Master Teacher", a really lofty title which meant I taught a couple classes on teaching techniques and then spent the rest observing everyone else practice teach and giving them feedback.
Ukraine is the hub for all the surrounding countries participating in the program, so we had people from Macedonia, Russia, Serbia, Georgia (the country, not the state) and Moldova there. This group had to learn an insane amount of material (in excess of 150 pages) in four days, and the pressure was relieve by three nights of much, much partying, which mostly consisted of drinking, dancing and guitars, with one walk through the surrounding woods at sunset and then getting lost in the dark on the way back.
There were also twin hookers at the hotel's bar. I'm not joking. No, I didn't ask them how much.
Only one minor was on hand for the debauchary, the four year-old son of the head of Serbia's program. For some reason this kid took to me (possibly because I played guitar for him on the first night) and would often run after me down the hall, grab my hand and follow me to wherever I was going. I think his mother was relieved at this because he had boundless energy and she needed the break. No matter how much I ran, played or tossed him around, he never got tired. He was a little spoiled though: he had a tendency to take whatever he wanted and neither of his parents tried to stop him. One night this meant he was trying to take my cell phone and, when I wouldn't let him, he bit my hand (not angrily, just using his teeth as another tool along with his two little hands prying at mine). I thought it was funny that he bit me and was walking towards his parents to let them know when he ran after me and the phone, collided with my legs and hitting the ground, smacking his head on the floor. Then he started to cry. I picked him up and carried him to his mother and then it was pointed out to me that blood was running down my arm. Turns out his teeth had caught a scab earned while climbing and tore it. I went to wash out the cut and when I got back, he was in the sniffling stage and his parents were encouraging him to apologize to me. I felt so sorry that he had hit his head that I didn't even want the apology, but the parents were slightly adamant. He couldn't quite get it out through the sniffs, though, so then he just reached out and hugged me. It was a very "Aww" moment.