Kindly Stop Before I Punch You Repeatedly in the Face

Ever considered punching a child in the face. I would never, ever do it but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. 

Before you think, how could you even think of punching a helpless child, let’s look at the facts.

I’m trying my very hardest to drill even a smidge of English into at least one French child’s brain and there’s this little twit faced tosser, preventing me from getting anywhere close to that goal. I don’t have a short temper but this child really pushes me over the edge, he may be just a child but hell is just a sauna.

Every week; he talks over me, mocks my accent, mocks my attempts at speaking French, mimics me like a stupid little parrot, fidgets, throws things across the room, hits other children, ignores me time and time again and I hate him. Yes, yes hate is a strong word but I can honestly say, I absolutely detest every inch of this infuriating being.

Children have this remarkable ability to absorb information that you don’t want them to and when you actually want to teach them something it goes in one ear and out the other. I’ve heard this demon child, in perfect English, at the top of his lungs shout, “What the fuck?” And this phrase is not something I incorporate into my lessons. His pronunciation is perfect, even his accent sounds great but trying to squeeze the phrase,“I live in France” out of him is like trying to resuscitate a rock. After repeating the phrase four times, he stares blankly and says, “eeei lev France” then looks unbelievably pleased with himself, when the other children laugh profusely at his failed attempt. I on the other hand am not laughing. In fact, I’m holding back the urge to knock the mindless miscreant out.

I’d probably be behind bars immediately if I let this scenario unfold but there’s times when I question if jail is really that bad. My own bed, three meals a day and the complete and utter satisfaction of knowing, I would never have to see or hear the stupid incubus of aggravation again.

Despite this, I don’t think jail is for me. So, I compose myself and calmly tell him he is terrible at English and not a very nice person. Of course, he doesn’t care and is more interested in jamming his finger so far up his nose that he can probably feel his brain…if he even has one.


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