My experience teaching rich Russian kids





I have friends that make a killing teaching rich kids, I mean, they are making huge money and getting perks like a car to drive (you know, to pick up the kids and what not), sadly, I wasn't destined to taste the sweet nectar of Russian richness.
I've pretty much hated every incarnation of teaching I did but the worst had to be teaching rich kids, or more specifically, one rich kid in particular.

I started teaching Igor (for sake of privacy, I made that name up) when I was still living with the Salsa boy from Ecuador. Igor’s mum wanted 6 hours a week and the pay was decent enough,  although they were no way near as rich as some of the Rublevsky families.
Igor was only three and sessions of three hours were probably too much so we would play for 1.30, eat some food and then do new words.

Things started out ok, although the cracks started to appear pretty soon. You see, the problem was, little Igor had no respect for anything or anyone. His mum was a nice lady (and hot) but she was already being dominated by a three year old boy and thus creating a future douche monster.

                                                                            sure, they all start out cute 

As is usual in these families, Igor had about 400 other types of activities and he could even play chess. Sure, he sucked balls at chess, but to be fair when I was three I was arguably borderline retarded, so yeah...
Igor also had a little sister who was almost 2, she still couldn't speak Russian yet, but she was already taking music lessons (that’s right, a kid who’s not even two, taking music lessons).

Her music teacher was a 20-something woman and was usually teaching her ‘music lesson’ while I was doing my English ‘lesson’ which was actually just me trying to distract Igor from his toys long enough so that he could perfunctorily repeat the names of some alphabet letters .

As the mum would often go out during these times, me and the music teacher would gossip like a couple of little bitches about how spoiled the kids were and about how it could lead to no good. It was like the revolution was brewing - we the repressed workers, talking shit about the boss, but that’s the way it is, the boss is always wrong, and you’re always right.

If you have a cleaner, you should know that her and all her other cleaner buddies hate you

While hating your work and boss is fine (although I just hated the kid), your boss pays you your salary and Moscow rent gets more expensive by the year.
Unfortunately, Igor had been getting worse by the week – not only was he not doing much more than play, he didn't like his lessons, possibly his little chess-brain sensed that I didn't like him.

Of course, it’s not my job to discipline the kid and I don’t think his mum saw that she was half the problem, buying him new toys every week and taking his bullshit tantrums like they were sunshine and rainbows.

After probably about two months, I was getting pretty pissed off and the feeling of discontent was building inside me like a volcano, something I'm sure anyone who has dealt with a job they didn’t like can relate too.
Some weeks, the family would go on holiday and give me no notice, only telling me on the day. Although this should have made me angry because it meant that I was losing income, I was glad to not have to go ‘teach’ and was dancing a proletarian jig.

The straw that broke my back came one fine day was Igor was playing with his alphabet cubes. He was throwing them around, not wanting to do anything and then he threw one at me, hitting me in the head


                                                             I had just been cubed by a small child

I snapped and ever-so-slightly shouted at him in Russian to never, ever do that again.
As with any spoiled kid, he didn't like this and he even called me a durak before walking off in a huff.
It was about then that I thought, I don’t need to be making my money dealing with this shit, being verbally abused by a three year old rich boy and having to bend over and take it in the ass.

When his mum got back from whatever she was doing, I told her I was quitting. Igor had called me a durak and wasn't doing any English.
The problem with half these rich families is that, to them, you are just another thing that can be purchased, you’re a glorified chew-toy for hire, given to children that have no sense of value or respect.

I'm sure they’re not all that bad, but this was enough for me.
Don’t let this put you off tho, - these rich families will pay a fortune for teacher and even more for live-in governesses so don’t let it put you off trying, but be ready to set your boundaries and explore other options If needs be.  


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3 comments:

Bree-Zy! on July 18, 2013 at 12:05 PM said...

hahahaha! i loved this :)

Zach Kline on December 28, 2013 at 10:47 PM said...

This is so similar to my situation I cant even describe it

Lt. Columbo on December 29, 2013 at 12:06 AM said...

did you too get cubed lol?

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