a virtuous cheat

Sure enough my suspicions were correct.  The listening exercise titled “Listening Mock Mid-Term Exam” given to one class by the instructor, who prepared the listening component for Thursday’s real mid-term, was in fact the same.  I showed the mockery mock exercise to the program director who immediately called in the instructor and told him giving this to his class was unfair and so wrong.  I watched the teacher fumble feebly, “I thought a new listening component was being used.”  He knew he was wrong only because he was caught.  I don’t want to generalize but instructors from the country that a few years ago ranked at the top as one of the most corrupt are corrupt and to witness again and again blatant cheating is truly disheartening especially when it is seen firsthand. 

I try as hard and as honestly as I can to convince my students success comes with honest effort.  Cheating, while it is obviously defined differently in various parts of the world, is not defined differently in academic settings.  A teacher gives his students a part of the exam, perhaps not telling students ‘hey, this is the listening part of the exam, ok?’ but knowingly deceives the remaining 200 students.  I didn’t cheat, I helped.  So what then is cheating in the eyes of a man raised to understand corruption as the norm, well it isn’t cheating, it’s leverage, it’s a couple of red bulls, it’s helping the weak and those who may still fail the exam even if they won’t remember five days before they have to take it.  We’re all just trying to give them a boost, we’re communally bound to help.

Maybe the preponderance of cheating is a result of the endgame. From a prime minister to the bloke who sells tea on the corner, truth is a relative noun and if the tea seller can sell three cups of tea for the price of six cups to tourists he hasn’t cheated anyone because truth depends on the circumstances.  The tea seller would never get away with selling an overpriced cup to anyone who knew him. 

If one class scores higher than six other classes no one is going to wonder how, ok I will, the majority will accept because at the end of the day here it doesn’t matter.  The objectives of pedagogical dysfunction aren’t to teach English for the purpose of one day using it, the objective is to bankroll an elect group of people who see young people as their 'right now' investment.  Failing students, keeping them honest in academic study by holding them accountable, is nowhere as important as keeping them in the classroom and keeping government handouts coming in.

Now I understand the teacher who helped his students cheat probably has no idea what is going on in the front office.  This individual’s error is homegrown, perhaps from his own insecure teaching methodologies, perhaps his fear of losing his job because students failed because of his efforts or lack thereof, all or none of these could have contributed to his decision to cheat.  Or perhaps it is inborn, it is in his nature and he doesn’t see his behavior as wrong.  A man without moral convictions, until he is caught. 

In any case I feel somewhat relieved knowing that I prevented a skewering of the overall marks, but I still worry about what I don’t know and I wish I didn’t know what I found because it is disheartening.  For whatever reasons it again justifies my decision to leave. 

I tired of making my own meaningless meals and walked to McDs for a spicy chicken burger which I swear has become junior sized and upon return mid way in the western sky a sliver of the moon snuggling up with Venus or Jupiter.  

I know I can find a job in the states, I want to settle down, and sure your traveling days will be done, that’s ok, for six years I’ve wanted to stop traveling but have done so because I ‘ve had no choice, I gotta go where there is work.  And it doesn’t matter where I work in the states, sure a warm climate would be nice but wherever I've lived in the states I'm still restless and uncomfortable.  San Diego?  Yeah, the sidewalks are too hard to sleep on.  Seattle?  A serious snobbery attitude if you ask me.  San Francisco?  Nope, haven’t lived there but it sure is pretty and I know no one there.

It’s eight o’clock.  Is it too early to go to bed?  Have another cup of wine, dude.