Hunting Jamboree

Because of my lack of teaching hours and my patience in teaching him, Milos is now my student. Sometimes I teach him for eight hours in a week, and sometimes we have no classes at all. It's very casual, I sit in his office with his dog Pink (the other dog, Floyd, died recently) and we slowly make our way through his pre-Intermediate book, with frequent distractions on Google earth or looking up words and then hearing stories from him, which I almost have to make up for myself, because his lack of vocabulary and coherent conversation leaves a lot to the imagination.
Milos has been taking English for the past 17 years and his status as a pre-Intermediate student is a very generous title. I feel that in some ways he's improving, but our methodologist, Vendula, said to not hope for much and to not get "depressed" about him.
Mostly the lessons result in utter disbelief on the words that he does know, introverted, anorexic, memories, theology, etc. and the words that he doesn't know, shy, slim, tomorrow, to think. My room mate Devon says that Milos seems to only have experience in reading English medical journals, which results in his colorful collection of vocabulary. I had to edit a research paper of his the other day, and I must say the scientific language was all used correctly, as far as I know....

This Friday was the most hilarious lesson yet. We made tea and went into his office and I said "Milos, what will you do this weekend?" So he proceeded to tell me about his past weekend. He has to pantomime a lot of what he says and when I suggested "hunting festival" he said no, no, no. Heproceded to look it up and settled on "hunting jamboree" for the event that took place in his village last weekend.
He looked up emails that had pictures attached and they were of his very Czech looking friends standing over the bloody bodies of wild boars, or "black pigs."
Milos: My friend.
Me: Wow.... did he kill the wild boar?
Milos: No, I kill the black pig. My friend only shoot it's legs, so I have to aim and kill.
Me: Uh huh.... Wow.

Great.

Milos: Here's more picture. (A lot of deer, pheasant, and boar carcasses strung up in front of spruce brances). Here is what we kill.
Me: what did you do with the meet?
Milos: we write numbers and someone shooooop (pantomimes picking a number) and they get the meat to take to home.
Me: which one did you win?
Milos: oh no, no one. I only am hunter.
I proceeded to ask him about why he would hunt and not eat the "delicous meat" and he gave me a long winded, flabbergasting explanation:
"In the autumn the woman pigs have to be eliminated. They are very self-conscious so it's not scary to hunt. But they have maybe 15 extroverted babies who are very aggressive. They eat the corn in the field and eat dogs and we eliminate them and have a raffel and the meat is very good. Here's a picture of us at dance."
Milos showed me a picture of a school gym and older people dancing, and on stage there was the collection of meat on display.

Milos knows I'm a vegetarian because when he makes soup at school for us to eat he always tells me, "Carrie, no meat. Very good."
This is just one of the many stories from Milso. Trust me, more to come.