Bungal Idiomas Pt. II - Training (to Bend Over)

The training portion of my courtship with Bungal took three weeks. Mon-Fri, 10am-3pm consistining mostly of exercises in futility. In the first week we covered pretty relevant material for learning how to teach English. We went over the main verb tenses, active and passive voice and so on. This is also when we learned the "Bungal Method" of teaching, which consists mainly of saying "repeat, repeat, repeat..." and making traffic signals with your hands.

Their "method" directly incorporates itself into the official ten-volume Bungal line of textbooks... which I am led to believe was written during a two-week long stint of meth-amphetamines and diet pills in the basement of the Bungal office building. ...so many great texts have been written that way.

Every day at the beginning of class we (me and my classmate) were given a "control" that they defined as "the proactive monitoring of a process to guarantee it's result.". Really. That's the official definition. They were quizzes of course, but Bungal couldn't call them that, they had to give it a name that eludes to their dominion over my success or failure. Was I being a good monkey today or a bad one?

These controls were to be averaged at the end of each week and anything below 80% was considered failing. Okay, no sweat, I ace them all, until on Friday of week 1, me and my classmate get a 60% and 40% on one of these, half of the questions being things we never even practiced or learned. Then they tell us afterwards, that Friday's control actually counts for the whole week. Whether or not the weekly average is above 80% suddenly held no meaning. What. The. Fuck.

"Normally you'd have to start the entire week over again, but being as how nice we are we're going to let you take another, longer version of our Controls on Monday."

Thanks a lot for cuddling me after the ass fuckery. First you don't explain the grading process (or you probably make up rules as you go along) before giving me a rigged quiz and now I should feel like you're doing me a favor?! Fuck You. Fucktards. I'll take the damned control over, but don't expect a thank you.

"Now, since you've been such lovely contestants, we're going to make you officially indentured to Bungal by presenting you with these lovely materials (that you have to pay $300 for if you get fired in the next six months), congratulations!"

A cheap tape recorder, a fake-leather Bungal-branded blue briefcase, a mini-whiteboard, a folder, other crap, all on an itemized list. Then I signed something in blood (it wasn't a greeting card) and I was made their bitch.

At this point you're wondering (as am I) why was I enduring this, why would I subject myself to this level of tyranny. The simple answer is; they're getting me my working visa. That's what I really want most right now.

...to be continued