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| On the Orange line going to NoHo |
Nurkaa remained in the Elementary level not because he's unintelligent, but because he displayed those particular attributes I wrote about to the nth degree. Whereas students are supposed to maintain a minimum 80% attendance so as not to jeopardize their visa status, Nurkaa's attendance was perpetually stuck around 50%. Nurkaa was told, repeatedly, that if he did not start showing up to class more often and on-time he would not be allowed to take the Levels Test. Nurkaa's tenth week came and he asked his teacher, Tim, to sign him up for the test. Tim, as he should have, refused, explaining to a shocked Nurkaa that because of his low attendance, because he never did the homework, because he was constantly late when he did show up, because he was constantly getting phone calls in class, playing World Cup Soccer on his iPhone, falling asleep in class and not participating in class, Tim would not be signing up Nurkaa for the test any time soon.
Nurkaa duly went to the office to complain and agitate for admittance to the test. Our campus director repeated to Nurkaa what Tim had told him; get your act together and you can take the test. Nurkaa responded by not coming to class the following day. This cycle repeated itself every week with Nurkaa begging Tim to sign him up for the test, Tim refusing and a shocked Nurkaa asking, "What? Why Tim, why? I show up. I come to class on-time." All of it patently untrue. Still, Nurkaa persisted. Not at improving his attendance, improving his English or even doing his homework, but persisted in begging and agitating. So much so that, frustrated to the point of murder (Tim is, in his spare time, a Christian missionary, so fortunately for Nurkaa, murder was off the menu), and now obligated to move Nurkaa up because school policy also dictates that students are moved up a level after an elapsed amount of time, Tim signed Nurkaa up for this first Levels Test. Nurkaa didn't make it to the test that day. Nurkaa then proceeded to be late or not show up at all, the next three subsequent times he was signed up for the test. Beginning to have a crisis of faith, Tim signed Nurkaa up one more time, with the warning that this was to be the last time should Nurkaa manage to screw up the appointment again. To his credit, Nurkaa showed up for the test and was even early. And summarily failed the test. Nurkaa was given one more chance to move up a level on his own merit. He failed that test too and finally, out of sheer apathy and obligation, Nurkaa advanced to Lower Intermediate and into my class.
When it comes to my students, I rely on a loose interpretation of the phrase, "Give 'em enough rope to hang themselves." That is, I can be pretty accommodating to student's request to leave early, their excuses as to why they were late or why they did not complete the homework. I didn't get off the boat yesterday, and I know who my good students are. So when Nurkaa started his first week in my class by asking if he could leave 15 minutes early, I obliged. "It's only Monday Wednesday, I promise." I would hear that oath a lot over the following 11 weeks.
The promise of being able to leave early only on Monday and Wednesdays soon shifted to Tuesdays and Fridays as well. After a couple of weeks of this coupled with no homework, with not bringing his book to class, of never having paper, pen or both, of getting phone calls in class, playing World Cup Soccer on his iPhone in class, falling asleep in class, I pulled Nurkaa aside and told him that from that day forward, if he wanted to leave early, he could, but I would mark his attendance as either tardy or late, depending upon when he left class. Nurkaa looked at me, shocked. His boyish smile replaced by wide eyes and mouth, "What? Why Chris, why? You told me I could leave!" Yes, I had, I explained, and I explained that he could still leave early if he wished, but that he was going to pay a price if he did. The next day Nurkaa begged me to let him go early without penalty, "This is last time Chris, I promise." He left and I marked him tardy.
The next day, after coming to class late, Nurkaa looked at the attendance chart, pointed to his name and asked, look of complete non-understanding on his face, "Why you mark me late Chris, why?" At this stage of the game I was still patient with him, so I explained, again, that if he left early I was going to mark him tardy or absent, depending upon when he left class. "Please Chris, please, change to on-time, please. I won't be late again, I promise." Needless to say, I did no such thing.
The excuses to leave early stopped somewhere in the fourth or fifth week, but the other nonsense continued, including missing our in-class test three weeks in a row. As teachers, we are obligated to complete what are known as Individual Student Reports, or ISRs. We keep a five week progress of each student, grading them on their week-to-week performance as well as an overall evaluation at the end of the five weeks. It should go without saying that Nurkaa's was not the shiny gold star of that class.
I was beginning to lose complete patience with this 19 year-old man child from Kazakhstan. Increasingly, I was becoming angered with his non-contextual interruptions during my lectures such as the time, while attempting to explain the use of Past Progressive vs. Simple Past, Nurkaa interjected, "Chris, how do I pay gas bill?" It was around his seventh week that Nurkaa began agitating to take the Levels Test early. I showed him on a calendar when he would first be able to take the test and he looked like I had kicked him. "Please Chris, let me take test early."
Some time during his eighth week I lost my cool with Nurkaa. He had shown up late to class that day, having not done his homework. He slept in class. I had to take his iPhone away from him after I caught him playing World Cup Soccer. After receiving one phone call in class and assuring me that his phone was off, he received another call. This time, with theatric flair, he waved his phone to prove that he had turned it off. Then he got a third call. I took that phone away from him as well. Five minutes before break, he interrupted me again to say, "Break Chris, break." I dragged class a few minutes into our break. Towards the end of class I had the students perform a writing task. As usual, Nurkaa took about ten minutes to respond to my directions, and only after I stared him in the eyes and told him to start the task. And as usual, he had neither pen nor paper. At this seeming revelation, Nurkaa looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, his expression informing me, "Hey, I tried, but I don't have a pen to write with or paper to write on." I told him to borrow a pen and paper from one of the female Korean students (they always have extra pens, pencils and paper). With extreme reticence, Nurkaa began to write. A few minutes later, hopping from foot to foot as if he was about to pee his pants, Nurkaa ran up to me and hurriedly waved his paper in my face, a plaintive look on his face, frantically pointing to the clock, "Please Chris, please, I have to go early." There were about 20 minutes left in the class. I calmly took the proffered paper from Nurkaa. He took this as a sign that he could leave, leapt back to his desk, grabbed his bag and began for the door. I stopped him as he passed, his boyish grin quickly turning to a mixture of despair and panic. "Nurkaa," I said, "You need to re-write this so that it's double-spaced. I've told you this many times before." Despair and panic turned to near-hysteria. "No Chris, no. Please, I do homework. I bring tomorrow. Please Chris, please." I asked him to sit down and re-write the paper again. He was literally jumping up and down now, his face a tortured mask, "Please Chris, please. I have to go!" Then I snapped.
Pointing to the door I told Nurkaa to leave. However, I added that he never come back to my class. Sensing the rage beginning to boil over me, Nurkaa bowed his head, and like a beaten dog, stepped into me, rocking his head, "No Chris, no." "Get out!" I repeated more forcefully to which he only repeated begging. Mindful not to touch him, I slowly maneuvered him to the door and into the hallway. Once outside the class I told me I didn't want to see him the next day when the class went to the Getty Museum. Unfortunately for the both of us, Nurkaa showed up for the class trip.
However, I really snapped the day I caught him cheating on the in-class test. Not even attempting to be sly, Nurkaa was sliding around in his seat, his head on a swivel, hissing at the Korean students who ignored him, "What number two?" After a couple time of this, I looked up from the papers I was grading to see him lurking over Mohammed's test like a giant Kazak vulture. I leapt to my feet, snatched the test out of his hands and yelled at him to leave the class. I tore up his test and threw it into the trash can. On Tuesdays we review the test as a class. Nurkaa showed up 15 minutes late and, interrupting me, asked for his test. I told him to sit down and that he had no test. "What? Why?" At the break he approached me and again asked me for his test. I told him that he had no test because he had cheated. "What? I didn't cheat."
By this time Nurkaa's attendance was catching up to him. On his tenth week I signed him up for the Levels Test. I was praying that he would pass. He arrived 15 minutes late and was not allowed to take the test. However, on Tuesday that same week, Nurkaa was called into the office and threatened with having his visa revoked. First claiming that no one had ever spoken to him about his attendance and that he was unaware of his poor record in this matter, he begged for another chance. Unfortunately he was given one more chance; complete two consecutive weeks with perfect attendance and he would be allowed to stay. Nurkaa responded by asking to leave half an hour early that day. I let him leave and marked him absent. I had explained the rules enough times to him, but of course that didn't mean that Nurkaa accepted those rules or thought that they applied to him.
For the next few days, as was his standard approach when he got into trouble, Nurkaa arrived not just on-time, but early. However, Nurkaa had what he thought was a clever work-around; multiple times during class he would leave, ostensibly to use the toilets. After doing this several times, I pulled him aside and asked what he was doing. "I use bathroom Chris." I asked if he was going outside to smoke. "No Chris, no. I just go to bathroom, I promise." I told him that if was gone for more than three minutes I would mark him tardy and that if he was gone for more than eight minutes, I would mark him absent. At this point I was creating completely arbitrary rules which applied only to him, but at this point in time, I hardly cared anymore. The next day Nurkaa left in the middle of class and was gone for nearly 20 minutes. When he finally reappeared I asked him where he had been. "I went to office." I asked him who he had spoken with. "I talk to Tyler about my car." I asked him, if he had gone to the office, where was his note. At this he paused briefly, then continued, "I went to office. I talk with Tyler about my car." I reminded him that he was not to leave class early for personal business. He said nothing. The next day I found Tyler, the school's Activities Director and asked him about this supposed event. Tyler informed me that he had walked past Nurkaa on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette and that Nurkaa had asked him about what to do regarding the used car he had bought, never registered, never insured and had had towed because he fled a hit and run incident (on a side note, Nurkaa had purchased the used car from a Los Angeles Police Department officer). Before class I pulled Nurkaa into the hallway and said to him, "Nurkaa, yesterday you told me that you went to the office." Completely dead pan and serious, "Yes Chris, I went to office." "No you didn't." I countered. At this he broke into his boyish grin and chuckled. "You told me that you weren't outside smoking a cigarette." I continued. Completely dead pan and serious, "No, no cigarette." "Yes you did. You were out front smoking a cigarette." At this he broke into his boyish grin and chuckled. "So lied to me, twice." He then began to tell me about how much he respected me and how much he liked it at the school. Cutting him off because the smell of bullshit makes me want to vomit, I looked him in the eye and told him that he was screwing up and that he was going to get thrown out of the country. At this his eyes went wide, "Why you make me absent Chris? You said I could leave!" I tried explaining, one last time, and that's when he switched tack on me. "Chris, I am uman Chris. I have feelings. I know you hate me." Somewhat taken aback I assured him that I did not hate him, but he continued. "You hate me Chris, whole class knows this." Flummoxed and frustrated, I repeated that I did not hate him and returned to class.
On Tuesday the next week, Nurkaa was called back into the office. After receiving the notice which informed him to report to the office after class, Nurkaa approached me at the break and begged me to come with him and explain that I had made a mistake and that Nurkaa had in fact been present the three times I had marked him absent. I nearly laughed out loud. "No," I said, "that note does not ask for me to go to the office, it asks for you. And it asks for you to go after class, not at the break. And I am not going to lie about your attendance." In a heavy and sullen voice, he acknowledged this and, head hung low, Nurkaa shuffled off to the office like a dead man walking where he was informed that his visa status was being revoked. According to the director, Nurkaa had first begged, then explained that I hated him and that I had marked him absent, then he explained that he had been like this since he was a child and they should give him another chance. The director said she walked out of the room, telling him that his visa had been revoked and because of school policy, he had one week to pack his bags and make arrangements to leave the country. He returned to my class and proceeded to sulk for the rest of class. The next day Nurkaa showed up early for his Levels Test and after trying to get me to help him with the questions, promptly failed that test as well. The day after that another note arrived for Nurkaa during class. This time again Nurkaa approached me at the break and again begged me, this time to come with him and explain that he had changed. This had become a farce. Nurkaa's visa was officially revoked and Immigration had been notified as to his status. He signed off on some documents and was told in more polite and formal words to not let the door hit him where the Good Lord had split him. He returned to my class and sulked the entire time, but not before having a cigarette and making some phone calls.
On Friday I overheard him telling the other students that I hated him and that I had had him thrown out of school. Incensed to the point of hatred, I stewed on this the entire weekend. On Monday, much to my chagrin, I walked in to my classroom to see Nurkaa slouched at this desk. A little flustered as I was hoping that he would make this easy for the both of us and use his last week in the States to go to Las Vegas, I called him into the hallway. There I confronted him with his slander. This time there was no act and no pretension. I immediately sensed a difference in his physical attitude; gone was the hang dog look, absent was the look of faux shock. Instead was a cool narrowing of the eyes and a gradual puffing of the chest. He admitted to telling the other students that I hated him and that I had had him thrown out of school, because, he repeated, I hated him. I ran though the list of grievances; the absences, the tardies, the test cheating, the attempted cheating, the non-completed homework assignments, the falling asleep in class, the lies. But, I added, telling other students that I hated him and that I had had him thrown out of the school was the final straw. "Get your bag and do not ever come into my classroom again." Stubborn and resistant to the end, he refused. He persisted on claiming that I marked him absent. "Yes, I did mark you absent. Because you were late!" My voice and my anger were beginning to rise and I could feel myself losing control. At this point Nurkaa took a step forward, almost leaning into me. His expression changed to anger, "You have taken my life and done this!" He made a chopping motion with his right hand across his left arm. "No I didn't Nurkaa, you did that." "No Chris, you did that because you marked me absent." "No, I did not." He began again but I cut him off; I had had enough and it was only going to be more of the same. At this, Nurkaa stepped back a bit and asked why I wouldn't allow him to finish. "Because I've heard it all before and I'm exhausted." I explained. "Why you won't talk to me like a man?" "A man?" I mocked, "You're not a man Nurkaa, you're a child." His eyes narrowed even more and I could tell this was heading south so I began walking back to the classroom. "You want to talk like men? We talk outside." And that was when I had him.
"Was that a threat? Did you just threaten me?" He repeated his wish to talk outside, "like men". I walked past him and straight into the office where I told the story to the director. Nurkaa was called into the office, again. Much to my chagrin, again, Nurkaa was not tossed on his rear, but moved to another class across the hall with the warning that if he did one thing wrong, Immigration would come and collect him. He was escorted to his new class. The next day after break I saw him in the courtyard, smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone. A few minutes later he was joined by a bald man wearing sunglasses, and together, laughing they walked off the campus. Nurkaa has not been seen since.
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