Monday, am
Lover boy from L6 (moved up to my class) walks in after break time escorted by secretary (or whatever his role in the office is), and shows off his knowledge of other languages by telling me “I love you” in Italian, Spanish, Turkish, and possibly Chinese?...
We are quickly revising adjectives for descriptions, and the phrase “she/he’s not my type” comes up, so I ask around what their type of woman is… So, blonde, tall, slim women with large boobs, be informed that there is a whole class of over-20 students waiting for you – room 7, every day, between 9.15 and 15.30.
Monday, pm
Ok, I knew that for Ramadan you can’t eat during the day, guys. This morning I found out that you’re also not allowed to smoke. But I would have never expected that you cannot listen to music?? So, about 10 minutes after the start of my pm lesson, ENTIRELY based on two songs (which took me an evening to prepare), nice Saudi guy asks to have a word with me…outside. Scary. And I find out about the music problem…
Right, so…half my lessons for this week have to be re-planned, as most of them include at least one tiny song at the end, just to lighten things up… Crumbs.
And in 66b…
Which is where I live…
How is it that whenever I walk out of my room for a glass of water or something, landlady needs to go to the kitchen too, and tries to get a conversation started? I am almost afraid she will come up with some chat-up line, one of these days… Then again, as she’s going to chuck me out in a few weeks, it doesn’t really make sense, doesn’t it? Also, I suppose she’s just an old(ish) woman who is alone all day and would like to chat, but who is DEFINITELY not used to having people around… But please people, if you ever find me listening to radio4 first thing in the morning while having breakfast, at the loudest possible volume, please, please, shoot me there and then, ok? Ta.
In other news…
There isn’t one muscle in my legs that is not currently aching… But brave as I am, not only am I going running tomorrow after school, I have also booked a yoga lesson for Wednesday evening… How exciting, I know.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Bournemouth, week two - highlights
Excuse of the week
From: male Saudi student.
I’m late for class because I had to shave.
Best lesson of the week
Almost twenty minutes spent on swear words and possible “light” alternatives, in reply to my Swiss student who is a big fan of the “f” word… Said student is now moving up to L4, intermediate, clearly on account of his ability with colloquial language…
Worst lesson of the week
Trying to teach some intonation in a pre-int class… and to convince a cheeky (in the bad way) Saudi student that going to the pub and saying “give me a beer” robot-like will not elicit a smile…nor a pint on the house. Meanwhile, my other new Saudi is maniacally attached to his dictionary, and driving me mad. I see him smile and actually laugh only while we are watching “The Ice Age 2”; regrettably, it’s one of the (silent) scenes with Scrat…
And in the staff room…
More crosswords (which I cannot do) and Sudoku (which I am a champion of); olive oil for my salad, which makes a big change! And more teachers who are showing interest in me, in where I come from, in my past experience, and who would like to go out with me (regrettably again, the latter is a girl, but at least I’m socialising).
A new class
I’m also teaching L3 in the afternoon, which would be upper-intermediate. Communication problems again, I believed I had to do some serious academic stuff, preparing essays, reading heavy articles and discuss, so I prepared my professor me and went to the class.. and the first thing that I am asked is to play games… So, what exactly shall I teach?
Meanwhile, in Bournemouth…
The airshow has begun.. with a fireworks fiasco. I was too tired to drag my poor me to the beach (again), having been earlier in the afternoon for my walk. Apparently the 110.000 fireworks in one minute just didn’t work and possibly almost set the boat on fire too… The previous fireworks display was also quite disappointing, for the beginning of an important festival like this. Oh, well. Better luck next time.
From: male Saudi student.
I’m late for class because I had to shave.
Best lesson of the week
Almost twenty minutes spent on swear words and possible “light” alternatives, in reply to my Swiss student who is a big fan of the “f” word… Said student is now moving up to L4, intermediate, clearly on account of his ability with colloquial language…
Worst lesson of the week
Trying to teach some intonation in a pre-int class… and to convince a cheeky (in the bad way) Saudi student that going to the pub and saying “give me a beer” robot-like will not elicit a smile…nor a pint on the house. Meanwhile, my other new Saudi is maniacally attached to his dictionary, and driving me mad. I see him smile and actually laugh only while we are watching “The Ice Age 2”; regrettably, it’s one of the (silent) scenes with Scrat…
And in the staff room…
More crosswords (which I cannot do) and Sudoku (which I am a champion of); olive oil for my salad, which makes a big change! And more teachers who are showing interest in me, in where I come from, in my past experience, and who would like to go out with me (regrettably again, the latter is a girl, but at least I’m socialising).
A new class
I’m also teaching L3 in the afternoon, which would be upper-intermediate. Communication problems again, I believed I had to do some serious academic stuff, preparing essays, reading heavy articles and discuss, so I prepared my professor me and went to the class.. and the first thing that I am asked is to play games… So, what exactly shall I teach?
Meanwhile, in Bournemouth…
The airshow has begun.. with a fireworks fiasco. I was too tired to drag my poor me to the beach (again), having been earlier in the afternoon for my walk. Apparently the 110.000 fireworks in one minute just didn’t work and possibly almost set the boat on fire too… The previous fireworks display was also quite disappointing, for the beginning of an important festival like this. Oh, well. Better luck next time.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Bournemouth, week one
Tuesday, August 11th
So, here I am in Bournemouth (note to self –and to whoever reads this: when this is published I will actually be in Brighton for a “dirty” weekend…in most senses, unfortunately..).
Second day on the job, although technically today was day one, after a very confusing start…
So, it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m enjoying Brighton with Long Time No See Friend from Holland, and it’s a lovely day indeed: organic food, carrot cupcake, sunshine, the pier, the shops, a lot of catching up... It’s been eight years, after all.
Half way through the afternoon I decide to pretend not to notice text message number one from Guy from Language School, which is only interesting on a formal point of view, as in: very strange way of composing a text…
“Hi.left.tx.book.in.jenny.s.back.garden.”
Excuse me?
The following text is a lot more alarming, as it clearly tells me that I am supposed to teach the morning after! Welcome to the world of language teaching, everybody!
So I go back to Grime House and start packing for the week, music playing from John’s radio, and I am trying to think of what to teach… A month of teenagers and children is not helping my brain, as all I can think of is activities that require a loooot of drawing and little else… Also, as I cannot catch a late train, my alarm clock is set for…3.30 (yes, 3.30am..). Boy, what I’m not prepared to do to work.
Hours later, I haven’t packed yet, lesson’s not planned yet either (blame it on BBC iPlayer)… To waste some more time before really getting down to work, I decide to check my mailbox, and: Guy from Language School has decided that I don’t have to teach the morning after: phew…no morning call at 3.30!
The morning after, a very yawning me jumps on the train at 9am, and tries to get some sleep for the next 2.30 hours…then Guy from Language School calls, and it comes out that I don’t have to teach in the afternoon either, whereas his email was of another opinion (“lessons are from 9.15 to 12.35 and from 14.00 to 15.30” – what does that sound to you, or is it just me?)…
Well, the school is nice, the staff room is huge and there are a lot of resources (Captain Photocopy is on a mission here!), the classes are comfy, there’s a cafeteria!, and my students are C-O-O-L. Really. No other way to describe them. I love them to bits already.
In other news, day number two in Bournemouth saw me walking down to the city centre and the pier and finally to the beach.. a sandy beach…with lovely, warm, golden sand…
I walked and walked and walked, on the shore, taking pictures, and feeling the beauty of the water on my legs, the soft sand under my feet, the sound of the waves (God bless Virginia Woolf, she knew it all), the sun on my skin…
I am in love with Bournemouth already, just for this beautiful beach. The city centre and shopping area looked interesting too, and there’s a lovely garden between it and the beach…
Boy, it’s a beautiful place.
So I think of Brighton and of the lanes, unique and interesting, I think of the seafront that stretches from the Marina to Hove, I think of familiar places, of my beloved library; and then I see the colours of Bournemouth, I feel the sea water on my legs and the sand under my feet, and I don’t know what to feel anymore.
I knew that something had happened, a few weeks ago, when I finally got over Ex Love of My Life (if I ever mention him again, he will be ELLf – cute, hey?). I knew that my choice to go back to Brighton was a matter of starting from where I had left, but I also felt that I was ready to really move on, in every sense. That’s why I considered Bournemouth for some applications for jobs, and other cities too.
I am really ready to live again, and explore as my nature tells me to do.
It must be this lovely sun, the sound of the waves, the colours of the gardens and the quiet of the park that I crossed to get to the centre. It must be the (almost total) lack of hills, the nice line of houses in Winton, the abundance of trees and of green. It must be this room, so white and cosy.
Once again, I am torn in two. It must be my destiny.
Wednesday, August 12th – am
My morning class is lovely! Although sometimes too motivated…
Now, one of the guys arrived at school 8 months ago as a total beginner, and is now a pre-intermediate: well done,man! But in these 3 days, before he completes the course and has to go back to his country, he wants to:
- finish the book (we are at the end of unit 8, with 7 units to go…);
- go from pre-intermediate to advanced, or at least upper-int.;
- be ready for the IELTS and pass the IELTS
Ahem… Maybe a bit too ambitious?
And in the staff room…
“What do you need that for?”
“Well, it’s a re-writable cd, I thought I would pop it in the microwave and see how long it takes to melt.”
………….
No, I didn’t say that, really…
Thursday, August 13th – pride and.. pride.
And yet another observation has gone. How many times have I been observed? I almost don’t care anymore: first sign that I am definitely an experienced teacher, hey? Feedback is good: I am a fantastic eliciting-machine, apparently!
Also, I have to cover an afternoon class – I am a satellite teacher, after all.
The students are wonderful, fun, chatty, lovely; I end the lesson saying that I would really love to teach them again, and they all say that they want it too: “you’re good, we like you!”.
I don’t really need much to be happy, do I?
So, here I am in Bournemouth (note to self –and to whoever reads this: when this is published I will actually be in Brighton for a “dirty” weekend…in most senses, unfortunately..).
Second day on the job, although technically today was day one, after a very confusing start…
So, it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m enjoying Brighton with Long Time No See Friend from Holland, and it’s a lovely day indeed: organic food, carrot cupcake, sunshine, the pier, the shops, a lot of catching up... It’s been eight years, after all.
Half way through the afternoon I decide to pretend not to notice text message number one from Guy from Language School, which is only interesting on a formal point of view, as in: very strange way of composing a text…
“Hi.left.tx.book.in.jenny.s.back.garden.”
Excuse me?
The following text is a lot more alarming, as it clearly tells me that I am supposed to teach the morning after! Welcome to the world of language teaching, everybody!
So I go back to Grime House and start packing for the week, music playing from John’s radio, and I am trying to think of what to teach… A month of teenagers and children is not helping my brain, as all I can think of is activities that require a loooot of drawing and little else… Also, as I cannot catch a late train, my alarm clock is set for…3.30 (yes, 3.30am..). Boy, what I’m not prepared to do to work.
Hours later, I haven’t packed yet, lesson’s not planned yet either (blame it on BBC iPlayer)… To waste some more time before really getting down to work, I decide to check my mailbox, and: Guy from Language School has decided that I don’t have to teach the morning after: phew…no morning call at 3.30!
The morning after, a very yawning me jumps on the train at 9am, and tries to get some sleep for the next 2.30 hours…then Guy from Language School calls, and it comes out that I don’t have to teach in the afternoon either, whereas his email was of another opinion (“lessons are from 9.15 to 12.35 and from 14.00 to 15.30” – what does that sound to you, or is it just me?)…
Well, the school is nice, the staff room is huge and there are a lot of resources (Captain Photocopy is on a mission here!), the classes are comfy, there’s a cafeteria!, and my students are C-O-O-L. Really. No other way to describe them. I love them to bits already.
In other news, day number two in Bournemouth saw me walking down to the city centre and the pier and finally to the beach.. a sandy beach…with lovely, warm, golden sand…
I walked and walked and walked, on the shore, taking pictures, and feeling the beauty of the water on my legs, the soft sand under my feet, the sound of the waves (God bless Virginia Woolf, she knew it all), the sun on my skin…
I am in love with Bournemouth already, just for this beautiful beach. The city centre and shopping area looked interesting too, and there’s a lovely garden between it and the beach…
Boy, it’s a beautiful place.
So I think of Brighton and of the lanes, unique and interesting, I think of the seafront that stretches from the Marina to Hove, I think of familiar places, of my beloved library; and then I see the colours of Bournemouth, I feel the sea water on my legs and the sand under my feet, and I don’t know what to feel anymore.
I knew that something had happened, a few weeks ago, when I finally got over Ex Love of My Life (if I ever mention him again, he will be ELLf – cute, hey?). I knew that my choice to go back to Brighton was a matter of starting from where I had left, but I also felt that I was ready to really move on, in every sense. That’s why I considered Bournemouth for some applications for jobs, and other cities too.
I am really ready to live again, and explore as my nature tells me to do.
It must be this lovely sun, the sound of the waves, the colours of the gardens and the quiet of the park that I crossed to get to the centre. It must be the (almost total) lack of hills, the nice line of houses in Winton, the abundance of trees and of green. It must be this room, so white and cosy.
Once again, I am torn in two. It must be my destiny.
Wednesday, August 12th – am
My morning class is lovely! Although sometimes too motivated…
Now, one of the guys arrived at school 8 months ago as a total beginner, and is now a pre-intermediate: well done,man! But in these 3 days, before he completes the course and has to go back to his country, he wants to:
- finish the book (we are at the end of unit 8, with 7 units to go…);
- go from pre-intermediate to advanced, or at least upper-int.;
- be ready for the IELTS and pass the IELTS
Ahem… Maybe a bit too ambitious?
And in the staff room…
“What do you need that for?”
“Well, it’s a re-writable cd, I thought I would pop it in the microwave and see how long it takes to melt.”
………….
No, I didn’t say that, really…
Thursday, August 13th – pride and.. pride.
And yet another observation has gone. How many times have I been observed? I almost don’t care anymore: first sign that I am definitely an experienced teacher, hey? Feedback is good: I am a fantastic eliciting-machine, apparently!
Also, I have to cover an afternoon class – I am a satellite teacher, after all.
The students are wonderful, fun, chatty, lovely; I end the lesson saying that I would really love to teach them again, and they all say that they want it too: “you’re good, we like you!”.
I don’t really need much to be happy, do I?
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Every new experience begins with a huge mess
...at least that's what I've learnt.
After a phone call and two messages, and a loooong useless call to a retired EFL teacher, it seems that:
1. I am supposed to start working on Monday morning
2. Level unknown, student group unknown, hours unknown, programme unknown, coursebooks unknown, salary unknown... Ok, I think you understand.
3. I will be working 15 hours a week (Guy from Language School started saying 21, then moved on to a confused explanation of how in reality they will be 15...maybe he did explain it properly, but have I said how I hate phone calls because I don't understand people clearly enough???)
Ok, ok...No ranting this time: it's been a positive day, I've found a room for next month in a good location, and all that, I've enjoyed the lovely sunshine, the music, the LIFE, and I'm sure that things will work out eventually, as they always do.
I really need to get back into serious writing: haven't done it in a looooong time. I do feel rusty and wobbly as I type these words. It's like...trying to speak a language you haven't spoken for some time, and you know it's there, but cannot reach it yet; so, practice, practice!
And apologies for the first confusing, not so good posts: they will get better - promise:-)
After a phone call and two messages, and a loooong useless call to a retired EFL teacher, it seems that:
1. I am supposed to start working on Monday morning
2. Level unknown, student group unknown, hours unknown, programme unknown, coursebooks unknown, salary unknown... Ok, I think you understand.
3. I will be working 15 hours a week (Guy from Language School started saying 21, then moved on to a confused explanation of how in reality they will be 15...maybe he did explain it properly, but have I said how I hate phone calls because I don't understand people clearly enough???)
Ok, ok...No ranting this time: it's been a positive day, I've found a room for next month in a good location, and all that, I've enjoyed the lovely sunshine, the music, the LIFE, and I'm sure that things will work out eventually, as they always do.
I really need to get back into serious writing: haven't done it in a looooong time. I do feel rusty and wobbly as I type these words. It's like...trying to speak a language you haven't spoken for some time, and you know it's there, but cannot reach it yet; so, practice, practice!
And apologies for the first confusing, not so good posts: they will get better - promise:-)
What am I doing next week?
On the bus to town, the phone rings: oh, no. All day in my room half wasting time on Internet and half actually "working", and waiting for that call, and when I was sure that no call would come, I finally left, ready for a night out with ex-colleagues I haven't seen in ages.
Halfway to the centre, and the phone rings, and my inability to hold telephone conversations is once more made clear... Bus noise, traffice noise, Guy from Language School speaking too fast, half muttering and making jokes at the same time and laughing...hate telephone calls!
Something about an ex-colleague who (may have? has for sure? can offer?) a place in town for the three weeks I am going to be in Bournemouth, why don't I ring her and talk to her and see and then he will call me back to see if things have worked out?
Ehm........ Ok, whatever! What's the number? Just tell me, I'll pretend to write it down and end the call as soon as possible so I can type it on my mobile and hope I remember it right!
Just as I'm doing that and wondering what exactly to ask the unknown woman in Bournemouth, I am stopped by ex-Italian housemate, and, Italian-style, we spend the next 20 minutes just catching up with the past months, while people pass us by. It's really nice, honest! It's like being home again, and it feels: good; strange; interesting; exciting.
Following: night out with ex-colleagues, catching up, telling stories, laughing, taking a few pictures, having a really damn good time!
So, I don't know what I am doing next week: got an email from Guy from Language School and he will call me again today (oh, no!!!), and I've emailed him asking those tiny details that would actually be useful, such as: when am I supposed to start exactly? What level, what kind of students, how many hours??? Why haven't you told me before??? Lots of question marks necessary here...
It's a sunny day here, and I am going out for a long relaxing day in town, in and out of shops, library, a coffee, maybe the beach... And tomorrow, Long Time No See Friend from Holland is coming to visit, after 8 years.
Things are actually going fine, for the first time in months.
It's so good to be back.
Halfway to the centre, and the phone rings, and my inability to hold telephone conversations is once more made clear... Bus noise, traffice noise, Guy from Language School speaking too fast, half muttering and making jokes at the same time and laughing...hate telephone calls!
Something about an ex-colleague who (may have? has for sure? can offer?) a place in town for the three weeks I am going to be in Bournemouth, why don't I ring her and talk to her and see and then he will call me back to see if things have worked out?
Ehm........ Ok, whatever! What's the number? Just tell me, I'll pretend to write it down and end the call as soon as possible so I can type it on my mobile and hope I remember it right!
Just as I'm doing that and wondering what exactly to ask the unknown woman in Bournemouth, I am stopped by ex-Italian housemate, and, Italian-style, we spend the next 20 minutes just catching up with the past months, while people pass us by. It's really nice, honest! It's like being home again, and it feels: good; strange; interesting; exciting.
Following: night out with ex-colleagues, catching up, telling stories, laughing, taking a few pictures, having a really damn good time!
So, I don't know what I am doing next week: got an email from Guy from Language School and he will call me again today (oh, no!!!), and I've emailed him asking those tiny details that would actually be useful, such as: when am I supposed to start exactly? What level, what kind of students, how many hours??? Why haven't you told me before??? Lots of question marks necessary here...
It's a sunny day here, and I am going out for a long relaxing day in town, in and out of shops, library, a coffee, maybe the beach... And tomorrow, Long Time No See Friend from Holland is coming to visit, after 8 years.
Things are actually going fine, for the first time in months.
It's so good to be back.
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