Things I Never Tell My Students

During my career as a teacher, I've taught everyone from adults (up to retirement age) to children as young as four years old. Here are some things I always think but never say:

1) I love the hugs I get. Coming from a country where hugging a kid who's not family can practically get you jailed, it warms my heart when the little ones come and hug me when I enter the class. Warms it more than the Cadiz sun.

2) Flattery gets you nowhere. Whether it's a kid drawing me too many pictures, or an adolescent saying I'm guapa, saying nice things doesn't put you at the top of my list. When I'm teaching, I don't give a f*** how I look. I only care if you're behaving in class and doing the homework.

3) Don't tell me you don't have time to study. I've had C1 adult students with families, full-time jobs, dogs, and a house to clean. They passed. I may nod my head in fake sympathy as you wax poetic about how there's no English in Jaén, but if those C1 students can sacrifice and pass an English test, so can you.

4) Don't call me expecting a miracle. I don't understand why students wait all year until two weeks before their exam to call me, begging me for private lessons. Two weeks is not enough time to get your sh*t together and pass if you haven't been studying the entire year. (That said, I have given these lessons, and 99% of my students pass. Just sayin'.)

5) I have cried in the teachers' washroom. There's, like, no privacy at school. Once or twice I've had to lock myself in a stall and have a cry, just to de-stress.

6) Sometimes that smile of mine is fake. A good teacher must walk in cheery, in order to animate the students. There have been mornings where I've actually paused outside of a classroom, pasted on a smile even though I wasn't in the mood, and marched in.

Of course, those adorable little hugs turn my fake smile into a real one.

It doesn't get more Spanish than cute kids, Cervantes, & fútbol.

Learning the Ropes in a New Country

It was great meeting the new auxiliaries for this year. Fresh-faced, young, eager to start a new adventure. As a veteran, I gladly answered their questions. Because Lord knows, the people in charge won't. Every year, auxiliaries receive promises and read grandiose statements in emails, intentions against the fact that our bosses don't have time to help us. The heads of our program give us their phone numbers and email addresses, and tell us, “If there's ANYTHING at all we can help you with, contact us!”

Right.

Within a day I was receiving texts from newbies, because the organizer wasn't answering her phone. In a way, they were receiving a good lesson: in life, it's sink or swim. My first year in Spain, I almost drowned. Emails went unanswered, and when I tried to call I couldn't deal with the Andalucían speed nor accent. Bank machines spit out my Canadian card. Clicking on webpage after webpage led to dead ends and more Spanish gibberish.

This year's auxiliaries.

During my first few weeks back in 2013, I had to open a bank account and go to a specialist for surgery follow-up. I was extremely nervous about doing both alone, so my boss said she'd go with me. Only to be told one day before my appointments that she had to cancel in order to attend a parent-teacher meeting. I learned two lessons: 1) things change last-minute in this country, and 2) I will survive. Without internet on my phone, I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to figure out the complicated, two-bus journey to the tiny town where the specialist was. I made it to my appointment, the doctor spoke extremely slowly and nicely to me, and in the end I was issued a clean bill of health.

How are things two years later? I'm definitely more confident. Thanks to my time in Villacarrillo, my Spanish is a lot better. In fact, I played Scattergories with Spanish friends and came in second place! I still balk at calling – I prefer email or making the trek to talk to the person face to face. But I push hard to get a response. In a sea of unanswered requests, I know that I have to be my own life preserver.

My Last Day

  For the last time, I pulled out the tiny school chair from the cafeteria table and sat down, sunlight streaming in from the window. The kind, old waitress wandered over with my café con leche and toast with melted cheese. "Gracias," I said, looking at her with a sad smile. The family that ran the joint had been so nice all year, patiently waiting for me to finish my order in jumbled spanish, several mornings a week. I wasn't even hungry today, I just wanted to take advantage of the (relatively) quiet atmosphere of the cafeteria, in the hour before the school break, when all of the students bounded in to wreak havoc and noise. On my last day at the high school where I'd been working for 8 months, I wanted the comfort of sipping coffee in a tiny glass, the cheese that melted over the sides of my baguette, and the sound of the father of the family loudly ranting about his beloved fútbol team.
  I hardly told any students about my imminent departure. I wasn't in the mood for a dramatic goodbye. No matter how often you travel, you never completely feel comfortable saying goodbye to the great people that you meet. I've had trips where I spent only two days with someone, and in the end it hurt to say goodbye. Same with these kids, whom I'd seen grow for eight months. I called them MY kids, even though they weren't mine. Things had turned around greatly since the beginning of the school year. Kids who stared at me with growly eyes, not wanting to participate, were eagerly shooting up their hand to answer in english by the end. Some younger kids, who were hyperactive overachievers in the beginning, were now starting to feel the effects of hormones, settling into a quieter presence in the class. Some were starting to awkwardly figure out flirting, attempting to show physical affection to the opposite sex. Some of the older kids excitedly asked me about Canada and the U.S., hoping to fulfill their dreams of one day visiting.
  The same way I fulfilled my dream of living in Europe, I honestly hope that these kids, "my kids", all fulfill their dreams, too.
 

Dating the Distance

I've taken quite a few Blablacar (car-sharing website) trips since moving here in 2013. My Spanish is at a level where I can converse with the other passengers fairly easily. One of the most common reasons Spanish people use Blablacar on weekends is to see their partner. Many, many people here are forced to seek work outside of their hometown, thus putting distance between couples. Some take Blablacar for hours, one direction, just to be able to spend a couple of days together. I recall meeting one man from a tiny town near Jaén, visiting his pregnant wife every week, while she worked in Madrid. His story is one of many.

My spanish friend Vic is an English teacher, who receives a new placement every year. Her life is similar to anyone's in the NALCA program, except she stays in her chosen region (Andalucía) and changes cities, whereas for us auxiliaries region placement can be a craps game. Her difficulty in maintaining a long-term romantic relationship stresses her out. She'd like to stay in her hometown and establish something, but it would require taking difficult career tests that she has no appetite for. So she continues with the instability of her career and personal life.

Do long-distance relationships work? Looking at how many Spaniards do it, you would think it's possible. Based on personal experience, and survey results, I vote probably not. Although I only tried it once, and it was with a dude I met at a rave, and it was only 3 weeks after we met that it was over so..... that's been my one and only experience.

I asked a friend, who travels a lot both for work and pleasure, if it's possible for someone with his lifestyle to have a long-term relationship. He believes so, if the person is understanding and has a similar lifestyle as him. It's a difficult thing for a single person to keep aligned: a love for travel and a desire for a stable relationship.

Living in Spain with a Dog

I have written many posts about what it's like to move to Spain with a cat – in short, my advice is: try to avoid it. Recently, I had an opportunity to experience what it's like to have a dog while being an auxiliary. In Madrid, I stayed in the apartment of a friend who's in BEDA and currently fostering. It was an eye-opening experience. I learned that although at times it's inconvenient having a cat, those times are very few and far between. Owning a dog while working in Spain has many disadvantages.

Number one on most auxiliaries' lists is travelling. Often it's a last-minute, impulsive decision. It's easy to decide to hop on a train to a nearby town, or take advantage of a last-minute seat available in someone's car. The problem for dog owners is having to return within a few hours to walk the dog. This is what happened to me when I wanted to visit Alcalá de Henares. Some might say I should've timed it to coincide with before, or after, the midday siesta. However, I'm not that type of traveller. I like to wake up in a relaxed way, visit what's open, have a two-hour lunch on the terazza, and wait for a monument to re-open at five o'clock. Having to skip the rest of the monuments and return to Madrid to walk the dog sucked.

As a social person, I find that activities I plan on taking a couple of hours to do, end up taking much longer. For example, if I'm out with friends and meet new people, and they invite me on the spot to check out more places, I'll easily take them up on their offer. Making new friends is important to me. I'd hate to turn people down because I have to walk a dog. On the other hand, something to consider is that with a dog, it's easy to meet people through clubs or by simply taking Rover for a walk.

Cute, but a lot of work.

What I discovered during my visit was that at this time, while I'm still in travelling, exploratory, impulsive, social mode, I can't own a dog while in Spain. And if you're like me, neither should you.

Jaén Impressions Part 2

I've been living in Jaén since October, and I can say that I'm genuinely happier than when my contract started. Based on what I'd said before, here's what I think now:

• I come across people all the time that like practising a bit of English with me. It's not as bad as touristy cities, though, so my Spanish is coming along extremely well.
• Man, there's so much to do here compared to Villacarrillo – concerts, music, art, a museum open on Sundays, the gym, places to eat, ONE really good Chinese and Mexican restaurant, a movie theatre... I could go on forever.
• My friends were right: the traffic and noise don't bother me anymore.
• The racist incidents have lowered to almost zero, although I also know where to go and what times to avoid walking around alone. It sucks that I have to limit my life so much, but at the same time it's less stressful to do things this way.
• I enjoy my job more. I love how some students who were initially aloof towards me are now willing to read and speak English in class. That said, I've requested adult students for next year.
• It's only March and already we hit the early 20s in temperature daily. I take time when I can to sit in quiet plazas and soak up the sun.
• I love how easy it is to travel to other cities via bus, train, or Blablacar.

(In the pic, I'm hiking at "Punto de la Mata", which I'd translated as "Point where you Die". Can't blame my translation skills; it was a pretty difficult hike.)
I am quite happy with my living situation right now. Obviously I just needed some time to adjust, so that I could enjoy what I have before me.

The Price of Debt

Everytime I receive my salary, my mind starts churning, dreaming of what I'd buy: purple suede boots, secondhand music instruments, giant legs of ham. Then it hits me: none of the money is meant for me. After necessities like rent and food, every penny goes straight to my debt. The thought bubbles pop in that instant.

One of the most valuable lessons I learned since moving abroad was the price of an inflated lifestyle. In Canada I earned a lot, for very little work. I had zero debt when I left, but my lifestyle didn't change once I hit Spanish soil. I still honed in on "wants": an expensive apartment to rent alone, convenience foods, clothes and shoes, and yes bartender, one MORE round of drinks. It was evident how much I'd been shopping when it was time to move from Villacarrillo to Jaén, and I had SIX large boxes of stuff. There was so much that my friend had to return another day to drop off the rest at my new apartment.

I'm lucky to be employed by a program that pays enough to cover basic expenses, even if I choose to live alone. I'm also lucky in that if I choose to go out for a drink, it's cheap and the appetizers are free. But I have to be careful, and do jobs on the side, in order to really enjoy Spain: travel, gym membership, concerts, etc.

Slowly, my debt is dropping. The most important thing is once it hits zero, I must do my best to never let it accumulate again. Then I'll be free to buy those purple suede boots I've been eyeing.

Searching for Spring

It's late February, and it's so cold that inside my apartment, I'm still dressed like this:

(This is not sexy)

Yesterday I woke up before the rooster crowed to get ready for a hike. Imagine my surprise when we arrived in Puerta de Segura, and basked in brilliant sunshine:

Everytime I hike in the sierras of Jaén, I feel like Aragorn in Lord of the Rings.

The weather was hot and spectacular; a perfect balm to soothe the doldrums of winter.

How to Prepare for NALCA

There's tonnes of advice out there, from previous applicants, for the North American Language & Culture Auxiliaries program. The following are the ones that rang truest for me:

Organize your paperwork early
Bearing in mind expiration dates for paperwork, get a jump on things: have your school transcripts ready, ask someone if they'll write your reference letter, sort out your money, plan when to obtain your criminal record, etc.

The 5 day limit to accept your school placement is B.S.
If I'd taken more time to research my placement, things would be very different right now. I probably would have been more prepared for my circumstances (i.e. rural village vs. happening town). I rushed to mail my acceptance to the coordinator, paying a lot of $$ to reach the 5-day deadline. In reality, you can email them to inform them it's on its way via snail mail.

Read the posts in the Facebook forum... but not too much
Facebook has helped make the journey for new auxiliaries much easier than in years past. Lots of teachers will have advice to pass on. However, limit how much you read. Eventually it can become overwhelming and confusing, and it takes personal experience to help you navigate the path to settling into Spain.

Learn Spanish
Especially if you're going to live in a somewhat rural location. In major cities like Madrid and Barcelona, you can probably get away with knowing very little Spanish. But where I am (rural Andalucía), having an intermediate level of Spanish has saved me many times.

Spend lots of time with friends and family at home
You will miss them when you're gone.

Find out how your job figures into your plans
Will you get paid out? Can you get a leave of absence? What happens to any unused vacation / sick time / personal days? 
At my job, I found out that a) I'd accumulated close to 100 sick days, and b) they would disappear once I left. You may as well use up any unused days if they won't be paid out, and take advantage of your health benefits (free massage, anyone?).

Do not bring too many clothes and shoes

New ruby-red shoes! (The locals kept staring at my trainers)

Trust me when I say that one of the best things about Spain is that clothes and shoes are cheap, making the shopping fun! I was initially sad to give away so many good clothes and shoes, but that disappeared quickly my first day shopping here.

You will have to sift through quite a few tips and tricks to settle into Spain. I hope mine help make the transition easier. After your own experience, you will probably also be one of the many to pass on words of wisdom.