Okay, so here ends the fifth and final entry to the Russian chicken scratches. As most all of you know, I have returned to the USA. Family and close friends have most likely heard the story about how things ended but for those of you who haven't (and I don't mean that you're not good friends either), I will attempt to give as succinct explanation.
If you have read the entirety of my blog, you could probably surmise that I think Russia is a wicked-cool place full of history, beauty, and intrigue. I have only great things to say about the country, save the toilets. The problem, and my reason for leaving, lies in the school that I was working for, and more specifically, the Canadian guy who ran it. The next section is a rather long and detailed explanation of what happened. If you don't care to read it and wish to hear a more interesting and entertaining story, skip to the last paragraph of this entry.
Problem #1: There was no school. The "school" consisted of various rented rooms in Stavropol's public schools (k-12). In short, we were English contractors recruiting students from public schools to learn English in their respective school rooms. I have no reason to be confidential so I'll say that Mr. James Leonard (Canadian) completely lied to me on this rather important feature of the "school." I had to travel by public transportation between schools and classes at my own expense. The furthest school was 45 minutes from my apartment. Forget the fact that some of the rooms didn't have a chalkboard or dry erase board. The books teachers used were missing pages and falling apart. We, as teachers, could not take them home to lesson plan either. Meanwhile, the students had shiny new books that, no doubt, they paid too much for. I hope this is beginning to illustrate the how the company works.
Problem # 2: I was guaranteed 25 hours a week. To make this entry short, I never worked more than six hours a week the four weeks I was there.
Problem #3: Mr. James Leonard did not want to pay me for work I did that was not teaching. And by this, I mean recruiting, advertising, and placement tests. The day after arriving, my employer instructed me to meet him at school #14 for placement tests. I was excited to start working. I spent 4 hours administering written and verbal English tests. This was when things started to seem strange (keep in mind, it's the second day). After completing the tests I asked Mr. Leonard if I would be paid for these hours, and to that he responded, "We'll find you compensation." I thought this a very strange response but figured we would be able to talk about it later. The next week I spent my time recruiting. Now what this means is I spent 16 hours or so going to various Russian schools with co-owner Tatiana to recruit for our school. We visited multiple schools and classes. She would give an introduction and then I would give a lame schpeel about why you should come to our schools. The children were delighted to see and hear an American in their class; most of them had never seen an American in person. Lol, I know it sounds stupid but they really wanted to learn English from an American. Therefore, my role in these recruiting sessions was vital. The school sold students based on me. This continued on into week two. I had not taught in a classroom yet.
Problem #4: No hours. Beginning week three I had taught four hours. This, of course, was below the 25 I had agreed to receive. Suffice to say, I was strictly bored and frustrated that this was all I had to show for week three. In addition, I had not seen a Rouble yet for any of my work. This is the week that things started to get seriously uncomfortable. I had already been feeling a bit uneasy about everything that had happened since my arrival. Just the way Mr. Leonard carried himself made me uncomfortable. This is probably the hardest thing to explain, but he came off to me very reminiscent of a pedophile. If he wasn’t one, he sure was as creepy as one. He would call me every morning and night to “chat.” We didn’t talk about anything related to school. It was extremely awkward. Anyways, Mr. Leonard informed me that we should meet on Wednesday to discuss payment. This meeting was paramount in my decision to come back.
Problem #5: The meeting. The meeting took place at the school office. I walked in to Mr. Leonard sitting patiently at the table where a pile of papers awaited me. He informed me that the school pays bi-weekly, handing me a sheet with a place to put my hours for the first two weeks of work. I put down the 16 hours that I had worked and handed it to him. Keep in mind that I was promised a minimum of 25 hours a week. The whole paper was essentially a farce since I had only "taught" for 4 hours in the past two weeks. However, I had worked 16 hours recruiting and advertising. It only makes sense that I would put down 20 since I was still 30 hours below what I should have had for two weeks of work. When I handed him the paper with 20 hours written down on it, he literally popped a gasket. He immediately started yelling at me, asking me what I was trying to do. I explained my very reasonable argument for hours worked. I also pointed out that it was a little ridiculous to be getting this angry with me when I was still 30 hours below my minimum required hours for two weeks. Mr. Leonard told me, “You have a very North American frame of Mind. This is Russia, and things are done differently here. You should understand that.” I told him, “Well, we are both North Americans so I don’t really see how this affects us. My employer told me to go somewhere and do something for an allotted amount of time. Why would I not receive compensation for this? It doesn’t matter if I wasn’t teaching; I was still working for you. The soil that we stand on holds absolutely no significance to this fact.” Mr. Leonard continued to rant and rave about how this was incorrect. I kept repeating the fact that I was being completely reasonable and strictly business-like. Towards the end of the meeting he gave me money (out of his wallet) for 4 hours of work, stating that the other hours did not count, as I was not “teaching.” Upon leaving the meeting I seriously pondered the future of my Russian teaching experience. Is this the guy that I want to work for the entire year? What do I have to gain after a year of working with someone whom I would have serious conflicts with? I went home deep in thought. I had already done a year of teaching in Morocco. It was a great year, no doubt, but it also wasn’t the easiest year. However, I had fellow American teachers to commiserate with (haha) and a great boss that was reasonable. In Russia, I was by myself, forced to work with a boss that was completely unreasonable and undeniably perfidious. Add to that the fact that I wouldn’t really be able to use him as a reference at the end of the year, as I would undoubtedly be in conflict with him throughout the year. There was also the simple fact that I wasn’t making enough money to live. Forget about traveling. The only thing I saw to gain after a year in Russia was language experience. This, of course, was a main goal of living and working in Russia, but when compared to all the cons, I decided that it wasn’t enough to keep me there. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life, but ultimately, I decided to leave the school, Stavropol, and my life of working around the world. I have not even slightly regretted this decision now that I have been back in the U.S. for the past four months. It would’ve been a long, hard, and discouraging year in Russia working under someone who thought he could take advantage of me. He never really understood how to play poker. He needed me more than I needed him and he never recognized that or gave me the respect I gave him. So here ends the “short” story of my decision to leave Russia.
If you have read the entirety of my blog, you could probably surmise that I think Russia is a wicked-cool place full of history, beauty, and intrigue. I have only great things to say about the country, save the toilets. The problem, and my reason for leaving, lies in the school that I was working for, and more specifically, the Canadian guy who ran it. The next section is a rather long and detailed explanation of what happened. If you don't care to read it and wish to hear a more interesting and entertaining story, skip to the last paragraph of this entry.
Problem #1: There was no school. The "school" consisted of various rented rooms in Stavropol's public schools (k-12). In short, we were English contractors recruiting students from public schools to learn English in their respective school rooms. I have no reason to be confidential so I'll say that Mr. James Leonard (Canadian) completely lied to me on this rather important feature of the "school." I had to travel by public transportation between schools and classes at my own expense. The furthest school was 45 minutes from my apartment. Forget the fact that some of the rooms didn't have a chalkboard or dry erase board. The books teachers used were missing pages and falling apart. We, as teachers, could not take them home to lesson plan either. Meanwhile, the students had shiny new books that, no doubt, they paid too much for. I hope this is beginning to illustrate the how the company works.
Problem # 2: I was guaranteed 25 hours a week. To make this entry short, I never worked more than six hours a week the four weeks I was there.
Problem #3: Mr. James Leonard did not want to pay me for work I did that was not teaching. And by this, I mean recruiting, advertising, and placement tests. The day after arriving, my employer instructed me to meet him at school #14 for placement tests. I was excited to start working. I spent 4 hours administering written and verbal English tests. This was when things started to seem strange (keep in mind, it's the second day). After completing the tests I asked Mr. Leonard if I would be paid for these hours, and to that he responded, "We'll find you compensation." I thought this a very strange response but figured we would be able to talk about it later. The next week I spent my time recruiting. Now what this means is I spent 16 hours or so going to various Russian schools with co-owner Tatiana to recruit for our school. We visited multiple schools and classes. She would give an introduction and then I would give a lame schpeel about why you should come to our schools. The children were delighted to see and hear an American in their class; most of them had never seen an American in person. Lol, I know it sounds stupid but they really wanted to learn English from an American. Therefore, my role in these recruiting sessions was vital. The school sold students based on me. This continued on into week two. I had not taught in a classroom yet.
Problem #4: No hours. Beginning week three I had taught four hours. This, of course, was below the 25 I had agreed to receive. Suffice to say, I was strictly bored and frustrated that this was all I had to show for week three. In addition, I had not seen a Rouble yet for any of my work. This is the week that things started to get seriously uncomfortable. I had already been feeling a bit uneasy about everything that had happened since my arrival. Just the way Mr. Leonard carried himself made me uncomfortable. This is probably the hardest thing to explain, but he came off to me very reminiscent of a pedophile. If he wasn’t one, he sure was as creepy as one. He would call me every morning and night to “chat.” We didn’t talk about anything related to school. It was extremely awkward. Anyways, Mr. Leonard informed me that we should meet on Wednesday to discuss payment. This meeting was paramount in my decision to come back.
Problem #5: The meeting. The meeting took place at the school office. I walked in to Mr. Leonard sitting patiently at the table where a pile of papers awaited me. He informed me that the school pays bi-weekly, handing me a sheet with a place to put my hours for the first two weeks of work. I put down the 16 hours that I had worked and handed it to him. Keep in mind that I was promised a minimum of 25 hours a week. The whole paper was essentially a farce since I had only "taught" for 4 hours in the past two weeks. However, I had worked 16 hours recruiting and advertising. It only makes sense that I would put down 20 since I was still 30 hours below what I should have had for two weeks of work. When I handed him the paper with 20 hours written down on it, he literally popped a gasket. He immediately started yelling at me, asking me what I was trying to do. I explained my very reasonable argument for hours worked. I also pointed out that it was a little ridiculous to be getting this angry with me when I was still 30 hours below my minimum required hours for two weeks. Mr. Leonard told me, “You have a very North American frame of Mind. This is Russia, and things are done differently here. You should understand that.” I told him, “Well, we are both North Americans so I don’t really see how this affects us. My employer told me to go somewhere and do something for an allotted amount of time. Why would I not receive compensation for this? It doesn’t matter if I wasn’t teaching; I was still working for you. The soil that we stand on holds absolutely no significance to this fact.” Mr. Leonard continued to rant and rave about how this was incorrect. I kept repeating the fact that I was being completely reasonable and strictly business-like. Towards the end of the meeting he gave me money (out of his wallet) for 4 hours of work, stating that the other hours did not count, as I was not “teaching.” Upon leaving the meeting I seriously pondered the future of my Russian teaching experience. Is this the guy that I want to work for the entire year? What do I have to gain after a year of working with someone whom I would have serious conflicts with? I went home deep in thought. I had already done a year of teaching in Morocco. It was a great year, no doubt, but it also wasn’t the easiest year. However, I had fellow American teachers to commiserate with (haha) and a great boss that was reasonable. In Russia, I was by myself, forced to work with a boss that was completely unreasonable and undeniably perfidious. Add to that the fact that I wouldn’t really be able to use him as a reference at the end of the year, as I would undoubtedly be in conflict with him throughout the year. There was also the simple fact that I wasn’t making enough money to live. Forget about traveling. The only thing I saw to gain after a year in Russia was language experience. This, of course, was a main goal of living and working in Russia, but when compared to all the cons, I decided that it wasn’t enough to keep me there. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life, but ultimately, I decided to leave the school, Stavropol, and my life of working around the world. I have not even slightly regretted this decision now that I have been back in the U.S. for the past four months. It would’ve been a long, hard, and discouraging year in Russia working under someone who thought he could take advantage of me. He never really understood how to play poker. He needed me more than I needed him and he never recognized that or gave me the respect I gave him. So here ends the “short” story of my decision to leave Russia.
Now, I will describe the 35-hour train ride north to Moscow.
There’s not too much to say about a 35-hour train ride besides…it takes 35 hours. However, during this particular extravaganza, I had a considerable amount of spontaneous enjoyment. Before boarding the two cabin train headed for Moscow I asked a random guy if this was indeed the correct train. Noticing my obvious accent, he asked if I spoke English, followed by an inquiry about where I come from. When I told him I was an American, he was immediately elated. Of course, he asked what I was doing all the way down in Stavropol. After a brief conversation with the man, I boarded the train, ready to begin the journey. Stavropol is the first or last stop for trains traveling to or from Moscow. The train builds carts as it goes, ultimately becoming a rather large train by the end. Lurching forward, the train left at 7am only to stop about 4 hours later to link up with other carts. I’m not totally sure what town we stopped in but I know it was close to the Krasnodar region of southern Russia. When the train hadn’t moved for an hour I became restless and got out for a stretch. I then saw my friend, whose name was Alexander, and asked him why we were stopped for so long. He informed me that, in fact, we would not be leaving for another 3 hours. He subsequently asked me if I would care for a beer. Alexander was a particularly generous man. He proceeded buy me beer the rest of the day despite my vehement protests. We ended up walking outside the train station to the center of town where there was a festival going on. It was the birthday of the city (and I wish I could remember the name) and a parade bustled throughout the street accompanied by a variety of carnival rides and games. One of these particular games was an AK-47 air-soft gun shooting contest. The goal was to shoot down 10 out of 10 cans at the end of the range. This, of course, was particularly hard since the gun was wildly inaccurate. After figuring out it shot to the right, I had already missed two cans. Grabbing a hot dog wrapped in a croissant, I boarded the train with my new friend and proceeded swap stories over a handful of Russian beers. An interesting side note: up until only a few years ago, beer was not legally an alcohol beverage in Russia. Suffice to say, stereotypes of Russians drinking copious amounts of alcohol is by no means a stereotype, rather, a fact. After observing Alexander becoming relatively inebriated, I decided to retire to my sleeping quarters. I read a book until night came and fell asleep rather easily. I was awakened by the sounds of his voice calling me to come to his cabin. It was quite apparent that he had neither stopped drinking nor gotten any sleep. I began drinking beer at 10 in the morning, as to not refuse his hospitality. I kept it moderate however. I had wandered over to his cabin (3rd class) where all the beds and chairs were open in a long, narrow room. I had already become a bit of an intrigue to the guests on the train since not many Americans ever make it that far down south. Alexander and I began to engage in a rather intense game of cards while most of the cabin quietly observed. Things started to get slightly more comical when he decided that we should start playing for money. The game was blackjack. It lasted for about an hour and a half. There really isn’t a great way to describe the true nature of the event but it was nothing short of surreal. After winning consistent small hand after small hand, he finally got me with a big bet. I called his bluff, but I was wrong. With his new-found confidence, he decided making even dumber decisions. At the climax of the game, the entire cabin was watching us, chanting, “Vegas! Vegas! Vegas!” I ended up completely destroying him and walking away with about $30. It’s moments like those when I wish someone were there to witness and share the comedy of the experience. It is also these moments that I live and thrive for. It is somewhat sad to think that these random occurrences abroad will dwindle as I get older. I have had a crazy last couple years of traveling filled with funny, interesting, sketchy, sad, adventurous, and any other adjectives you can think of stories. I thank God and all the people who made it possible, helped me along the way, and participated in my life. It has been a wonderful ride. I will always hold those memories and people dear. If you think you’re one of those people, you are. Now, if you could only get me to write a Morocco blog…I think I will have to consult Daniel Hamblin for that…Let me know what you think Mr. Hamblin. I hope this blog has been fun to read; I had a blast writing it. Take care and you might see a Moroccan blog in the future...It will be vastly longer than this one.
