I quit my job at VMG this week. I gave 31 days notice since I'm the consummate professional (hold your laughter, please) and I truly respect my employer. My last day will be Nov. 10, 2017, which means I will have worked (rare use of the future perfect tense) at VMG language center for 4 years, 8 months and 1 week as an English teacher. But who's counting besides VMG and the NWM (New White Monkey)? I was told by another teacher that the staff and teachers at VMG were celebrating my resignation. Fake news? Could be. I'm sure a few students are happy to see me leave. But I never, ever cheated any students on preparation for class. I had a thorough plan for EVERY class and I respected the students. The only time I lost my cool was when it was clear to me that students were being intentionally disrespectful. That rarely happened -- I can remember maybe three times in almost five years. Not bad, really. I want to thank fellow teacher Joy Cao Bogart for supporting me, providing advice and worksheets, and being a great friend. There are many people to thank, but Joy has stood by the NWM through the good and bad times. That's what friendship is about, because I've had my share of difficulties here. Sadly, I didn't make any friends among Vietnamese teachers in nearly five years at VMG. A few were nice and some were cordial, but that's the extent of it. However, I did meet the most wonderful woman in the world in Bien Hoa City -- Pham Thi Ngoc Phuong -- who became my wife and the greatest mom in the world to the best little girl in the world, Joanna Pham Millman. I now know I'm the luckiest man in the world because of Phuong, Joanna, and my children in the United States, who probably don't want their names mentioned here. My wife and children are intelligent, caring and genuine people. My children in the U.S. have grown into successful adults, thanks primarily to my first wife Lynda, another quality human. I told you I was a lucky man. I never said smart, but I'll stand by lucky.
I'm actually getting through to a couple of the Speed Racers on our street. Twice, I saw a couple of guys approaching our house close to the 100KMH mark, so I stood in the street with my long staff held out in front of me. But I've softened my approach, smiling and gently using the staff to urge the riders to slow down. The younger guys get it, but the older losers and young girls couldn't care less. One young, helmet-less girl, no more than 17, sped up and raced right past me as I urged her to slow down a bit. She's not a quality human. The neighbors continue to stare in disgust at the vigilante NWM (credit to Ron for this expression) as I beg speeders to ease up.
A woman who lives in a giant house across the street from the park we take Joanna to won't put her trash out in front of her house for pickup. Instead, she carries it across the street and leaves it under a tree in the park, where roaming dogs and assorted chuckleheads rip it to shreds, spreading her waste everywhere. Classy, huh? One day, after she "dropped off" her trash, she gave me the NWM stare, and continued to stare as she crossed the street. Two clowns on a bike didn't slow down, of course, and had to swerve wildly at the last second to avoid hitting her. She laughed. Too bad they didn't hit her -- it would have served all three losers right.
Joanna chewed up my favorite headphones, making them useless. So I did what any responsible adult would do. I took them down to the park and threw them under a tree for pickup. Not really, but it's fair to say that I wasn't pleased.
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