Final day and saying goodbye

Since I didn’t know what to do, I decided to resume my teaching. But I was resolved to never meet the principal, or his assistants, again. Looking for a new job already, possibly at the other side of the city, I planned to leave the school as soon as possible.

Italian teacher, as well as some other females gave me strange looks in the dining room. They might have been sleeping with the principal, or satisfy his dirty desires in some other way around, and found it perfectly all right. But I knew I wasn’t alone in the situation, and certainly no other school had higher fluctuation rates than this one….


Students didn’t want me to leave

One thing that kept me going were my students. We managed to build a good relationship together, and I really felt they were progressing in their French. I actually started to give tutorage classes to three of them, which helped to make even more money.

The principal never approached me again. As before, you could hardly see him in the corridors. He came before anyone else and left when we all gone home already. I got no more flowers or sweets–which didn’t really bother me.

Nevertheless I had this strange feeling everyday, especially when I found myself in an empty corridor. I was scared he may appear somewhere there, and attack me from the back. But the Spanish teacher ensured me it won’t happen. “He has enough women that are willing to do everything for him,” said she to me one day when the two of us stayed alone in the cabinet.

I didn’t really know what to think…. At one side, the women were single (apparently one of the secret job requirements), so they could have sexual relationship with whomever they pleased. On the other hand I couldn’t get what attracted them to the principal. He was old, far from handsome, and tried to seduce way too many women. It must have been just the money he paid them, that extra part of the salary. Once you understood the entire scope of our job, the pay check didn’t look so high anymore….


Getting fired

My probation period was about to end in two weeks time. I was sure of neither staying nor leaving. French teachers weren’t in demand in the middle of the school year, especially those looking just for temporary vocation in Singapore. Nevertheless, as it happens many times in our lives, the situation got eventually resolved without my intervention.

On Friday morning, I found a dismissal on the table in the cabinet. One red rose was attached to the letter. I was fired, during the probation period. Packing my things I said goodbye to the Spanish teacher, and walked out of the building. I knew I would never return to that place….


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