The worst class

 As I travel to another teaching adventure in a strange country, I'm considering what the worst class I've ever had was.

It wasn't the one where my plane was so late I traveled straight from the European airport to the classroom to start class an hour late, still wearing the clothes I slept in on the plane (bonus: they lost my luggage, so I taught in those clothes for 2 days).

It wasn't the one where the classroom temperature ping ponged between 61F and 86F without ever pausing in between.

It wasn't the one that I learned to wear a new bra with multiple hooks and carry a sewing kit. Or the later one where I patched my suddenly strapless slip with a safety pin from said kit.

It wasn't the one where the electricity went out entirely in the building, leaving us without a projector and reading from the books by the emergency light (that one has been multiple buildings in several countries. Tough when we were all logged in via emulators to a VAX and the lost electricity cut our connection to the stat software.).

It wasn't the one when my carpal tunnel was so bad I had a student type in all my commands for me. 

It wasn't the one where I learned I have plantar fasciitis by feeling like I was walking on Lego pieces for 5 days.

It wasn't the many where jet lag and travel stress allowed me 2-3 hours of sleep a night and a splitting headache all day every day.

No, my worst class was the one where they didn't talk. Many,  over multiple weeks.They didn't ask any questions. It was horrible. And deathly boring. And every day I covered too much material because they never talked. And after class they would line up to ask me questions. I later found out it was a cultural thing. I handle it better now. At least I hope I do. I plan for it in those countries where I know it will happen. 

Monday will be fine. I'm sure they will be chatty.