I have loads of experience in teaching English as a foreign language. In such a way I supported myself through various parts of university, albeit in a minimal subsistence way. I taught English to spoiled Russians in Moscow mansions, French business men and a mix of 20 something students in Cambridge. I always knew I wasn't meant to be an English teacher, I fell into the profession completely by accident…..but it was a means to an end and I got away with it well enough for long enough that people were willing to overlook my lack of certificates and qualifications.
But then one day I hit a block and realised that I couldnt do it anymore, so I started selling books to fund the rest of my doctorate. Even as that job has now come to and end, I think I made the right choice at the time.
In my years of teaching though, I did become proficient in the various theories and trends circulating in that industry. I learned to keep my TTT (teacher talk time) to a minimum, and to do loads of pair work. I learned what a supervisor wanted to see when they opened the door to my classroom: loads of students sitting in pairs, looking happy and speaking the target language. After a few years I became confident enough to walk into classrooms smiling and knowing what I had to do. Funnily though, none of this prepared me to be on the other side of the desk, in the students place.
So yesterday, as I sat down in my first class at the Spanish embassy I was surprised to find that I felt slightly nervous.
The thing is, I had decided about a month ago that the time had come to sort out the muddle of languages in my brain. I speak (sort of) 6 languages. I have studied over 10. I have attended school in 5. I am often a bit lost. The right words don't always come out at the right time, I know what I mean, but not everyone else does. So I decided to do something about it. I trotted around embassies, checked out the prices, and found myself in an advanced Spanish class at the Cervantes institute. Our class is small, there are only 5 of us, plus the teacher, which my former TEFL self tells me is ideal. Interestingly, not one student is English: the other 4 are south African, Portuguese, polish and Australian. English people are famously disinclined to learn languages other than there own, which appears to be the explanation. The teacher seems good. I found myself analysing the exercises as we went along, knowing well which skill every activity was meant to hone. I think it will be an interesting 12 weeks…
24.6.08
work
my new job is boring beyond all belief.
i have had many ridiculous jobs in the past, i have given out flyers outside the paris metro. i have taught english to spoiled brats in moscow mansions. i have had to take overly intoxicated canadian students to hospital to have their stomachs pumped, and i have sold a lot of books. but i have never sat a desk and tried to imagine ways to look busy. my collegues dont seem to mind this. they spend hours chatting, drinking coffee and reading the sports news on the internet. but this utter lack of productivity drives me mad, especially as we are not allowed to do anything productive if it is not company based. so although i have loads of time, i cant get out my thesis and start working on it, that would be "of task," but i can sit for 2 hours and discuss the football, and that is alright. in fact, it is encouraged, as it apparently shows i am a team player!!! i spend hours staring at the clocks (all of which are now showing the right time around the world, as i went around changing them my first week). i read the guardian, the economist, pagina 12, grandma internacional and the bbc several times a day. if you have a blog, i have read it i assure you! you might wonder about my job. the thing is, i do it, easily. but it doesnt take 8.5 hours a day. with concentration and organisation, i can do everything in 4, condeming myself to another 4.5 hours of nothingness. my collegues tell me i work too hard, but i prefer hard work to boredom. surely there has to be some way to improve this situation? helllllllllpppppppp.......
i have had many ridiculous jobs in the past, i have given out flyers outside the paris metro. i have taught english to spoiled brats in moscow mansions. i have had to take overly intoxicated canadian students to hospital to have their stomachs pumped, and i have sold a lot of books. but i have never sat a desk and tried to imagine ways to look busy. my collegues dont seem to mind this. they spend hours chatting, drinking coffee and reading the sports news on the internet. but this utter lack of productivity drives me mad, especially as we are not allowed to do anything productive if it is not company based. so although i have loads of time, i cant get out my thesis and start working on it, that would be "of task," but i can sit for 2 hours and discuss the football, and that is alright. in fact, it is encouraged, as it apparently shows i am a team player!!! i spend hours staring at the clocks (all of which are now showing the right time around the world, as i went around changing them my first week). i read the guardian, the economist, pagina 12, grandma internacional and the bbc several times a day. if you have a blog, i have read it i assure you! you might wonder about my job. the thing is, i do it, easily. but it doesnt take 8.5 hours a day. with concentration and organisation, i can do everything in 4, condeming myself to another 4.5 hours of nothingness. my collegues tell me i work too hard, but i prefer hard work to boredom. surely there has to be some way to improve this situation? helllllllllpppppppp.......
18.6.08
poland
Poland it had been exactly a decade since I last stuck my feet in Poland, and nearly two decades had passed since my first fleeting visit to Warsaw. Needless to say, some things have changed. Warsaw today is much more than I expected it to be, and an era apart from the drab grey city I remembered from earlier encounters. The architecture has changed rapidly, especially in the business-oriented parts of the centre. There are sparkling new glass and steel structures that look impressive. Our own office is in one of these buildings, and has a large balcony overlooking the entire centre. Yet this new design is completely uneven, there are big new glass buildings next to old socialist ones, next to hand built kebab shops. The new centre is hectic and lacks planning, but I am assured it is improving every year. The old core has taken on the aura of central European kitch, but surely part of this is inevitable in an "old town" that was entirely rebuild in the 1950s, based on 19th century paintings of how it had supposedly looked prior to the Nazi occupation. Like parts of Cracow and vaci utca in Budapest (and all of Prague for that matter) the kitch does not entirely detract from the charm. The old square is cute with nice cafes to sit and have a drink in. and we do. The polish staff in our office there prove to be incredibly friendly and helpful. they nearly even kill us with their hospitality. after a huge breakfast at the hotel, and a brief meeting in the office, we headed for "the best sushi restaurant in Poland." It is indeed amazing how sushi has taken over the cities of eastern europe. it is a ubiqitous as mcdonalds now in moscow, and the trend has clear spread to poland too. the sushi was indeed good, and i enjoyed myself immensely. This culinary fun was followed by a city tour given to us by one of the guys in the office there, and included a stop by the best ponci (Spelling? like a buluchka, but a polish varient) bakery in warsaw, and then, with my stomach still full, a trip to the best mexican restaurant in poland for an early dinner. by the time my burrito arrived though, i barely had the energy to take a bite, as much as i love mexican food, even in its polish transcultured appearence!
football season
it is european football time again.
it is strange how i measure time by football, especially since i would not even describe myself as a major football fan. i played only a little bit as a kid, but i was never especially good. i have little interest in the clubs games, and i support rangers only nominally as my family has supported them for generations and it just seems the inborn logical club to back. but for some reason i do watch the international games. as they happen rarely and always in the summer, over the past 2 decades they have also become my way of counting time. i remember always exactly where i was and what i was doing during every world cup or european championship over the past 20 years. one of my earliest memories is of meeting the entire saudi world cup team in the airport, right after they had been knowcked out of the tournament. i was young and ran over and asked the guys to sign my diary (this was before blogs, clearly) they were all very kind, some even drew little pictures in the book.
the last european cup coincided with one of the roughest times of the past few years. I was back in buda, and had just learned that i would not be able to stay in the country for another year. i watched all the games with my friends at liszt ferenc ter, shouting at the screens in the open air cafes. there were always loads of us there, watching. marci and ferenc as our hungarians, marko and jelena in their croatian tshirts, oliver from estonia whose team wasnt even playing, and dogan and bilge from istambul. they were my friends, my circle, and i knew my whole world was about to come to an end. sure enough, we have never all been in the same room together since those days of football. the last game (portugal-greece) i watched in new exile in paris, on my friends couch. i called back to the buda guys, longing to be with them, and hating france for having been dumped there so randomly.
as this cup moves into the semi-finals i cant help but remember those dark days 4 years ago. the first match i watched in a dodgy bar in holloway, munching a veggie kebab (only in england could you buy such a thing!) with a pole, an azeri and a russian from latvia. part way through the game i looked around and realised that i have somehow managed to reconstruct my life here. it is not the same, but i have friends here none the less.
amazingly, dogan and bilge arrived just in time for the start of the tournament. i hadnt seen them since 2004, and it was a delight to see them again, just as the turkish team was advancing in a most surprising and unpredictable way. it is good to reunite, especially over football.
it is strange how i measure time by football, especially since i would not even describe myself as a major football fan. i played only a little bit as a kid, but i was never especially good. i have little interest in the clubs games, and i support rangers only nominally as my family has supported them for generations and it just seems the inborn logical club to back. but for some reason i do watch the international games. as they happen rarely and always in the summer, over the past 2 decades they have also become my way of counting time. i remember always exactly where i was and what i was doing during every world cup or european championship over the past 20 years. one of my earliest memories is of meeting the entire saudi world cup team in the airport, right after they had been knowcked out of the tournament. i was young and ran over and asked the guys to sign my diary (this was before blogs, clearly) they were all very kind, some even drew little pictures in the book.
the last european cup coincided with one of the roughest times of the past few years. I was back in buda, and had just learned that i would not be able to stay in the country for another year. i watched all the games with my friends at liszt ferenc ter, shouting at the screens in the open air cafes. there were always loads of us there, watching. marci and ferenc as our hungarians, marko and jelena in their croatian tshirts, oliver from estonia whose team wasnt even playing, and dogan and bilge from istambul. they were my friends, my circle, and i knew my whole world was about to come to an end. sure enough, we have never all been in the same room together since those days of football. the last game (portugal-greece) i watched in new exile in paris, on my friends couch. i called back to the buda guys, longing to be with them, and hating france for having been dumped there so randomly.
as this cup moves into the semi-finals i cant help but remember those dark days 4 years ago. the first match i watched in a dodgy bar in holloway, munching a veggie kebab (only in england could you buy such a thing!) with a pole, an azeri and a russian from latvia. part way through the game i looked around and realised that i have somehow managed to reconstruct my life here. it is not the same, but i have friends here none the less.
amazingly, dogan and bilge arrived just in time for the start of the tournament. i hadnt seen them since 2004, and it was a delight to see them again, just as the turkish team was advancing in a most surprising and unpredictable way. it is good to reunite, especially over football.
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