Sink the Sub

When we first arrived in Singapore, we became friends with another couple. She is the expat. He is the dependant spouse in this patriarchal, chauvinistic society. That in and of itself is a riot. We enjoy them very much and after we moved we remained friends. After a couple months of living the Life of Riley, he began to feel unfulfilled. He was, after all, a fairly high power guy in the US. He found a site on the web - boredwhitepeople.com I'm guessing - and found himself a job teaching English to adults. The stories he tells about corralling these marginally interested quasi-adults from every conceivable corner of the world are pretty funny, and have made for some pretty entertaining conversation at dinner parties.

Last week, this friend asked me if I would help him take his class on a field trip. He had masterminded this thing he could only get his principal to agree to if he had another adult chaperon who was willing to spend the day with him and his students. I agreed - I seldom have anything pressing to do during the day anyway. The plan was to walk them to a local museum, then take a cross town bus to the park for lunch. His class for the day made up of a bunch of Indonesians, several Vietnamese girls, 3 Russian women and a Sri Lankan monk.

The day shaped up to be something akin to herding cats. We had a total of 42 'kids.' They were almost all late. Some took the elevator, some took the stairs. Some ran for the green light, some j-walked, and some headed left instead of right. They spoke about nine languages apiece, none of them English. Some were timid and some were really just not. Most of them had names I could not pronounce, much less remember.

This childlike group loved the museum. They took pictures, reveled at the exhibits and laughed at every one of the guide's corny jokes. They wanted their tickets and programs and the free bookmark. They used every bathroom on every floor. We really didn't have a lick of trouble until we left the museum....

Our ranks thinned considerably when we got on the bus. Most of the students were prepared to stay for the day, but simply lost interest. Some stood at the stop, and were still standing on the sidewalk when the bus pulled away. Some got off early. One girl turned a hideous shade of green and said more than a couple minutes on a bus was too much for her. We lost one kid, realized she was younger than anyone else and was probably the last person who we should have lost track of, and spent a goodly portion of time trying to track her down. When we got near the park our fearless leader, in typical male fashion, said he didn't have any lunch plans and turned the kids loose in the grocery store with the promise he would buy whatever they picked out. Bedlam. We got to the park. One of the girls was so determined to wash the fruit she insisted we walk a good quarter mile in the scorching heat to benches near the bathroom. More thinning of the ranks.

When we finally got settled we had a most delightful afternoon. The beach was beautiful. The kids were engaging and funny. All had stories to tell. They were happy to practice their English and tell about their countries and families and hear about ours. The monk sat quietly, the Indonesians giggled and the Vietnamese shared their stories of home. The Russians told us how to make vodka. Something about honey and honey comb and spinning and fermenting and 'Woala! Wodka!" I have a feeling there was an ingredient or two missing...

It was quite a day, but by 2 or so I had to get home. I wandered off to find a cab out, since the cross town bus is not my style. I got in a queue and climbed into a cab with a frantic cabbie who had no map, no GPS and was about halfway through his first day. He implored me not to ask him to take me all the way home since he wasn't sure he could find his way back. I told him to drop me at the 'red line' and took the train. I figured there was no better way for the day to end...