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.

The New Students

I'm noticing an interesting trend amongst friends my age. Despite being in our mid to late-thirties, between one-third and one-half of us left well-paying careers or were laid-off. We're taking classes, or have enrolled in university or a training school. In addition, we're (mostly) single women, with no kids, dramatically changing our lives at an age that traditionally sees people set within their career, relationship, or family.

Despite mortgages or rent, these friends of mine have decided to take time to search for work that has meaning for them, and/or re-educate themselves. Those that worked in television are now looking at social media, film, book editing, or international health careers. One friend who was a nurse is looking at moving into the world of esthetics. And a dental assistant I know is extremely interested in private investigation. The common thread: all of these women made very decent money but weren't into their jobs. Being happy is what counts more now. They take the risk of not having a lot of money while in school or starting a new career, but the urge to pursue their dreams is a bigger draw. Some of them have commented:

"I'm pursuing a new trajectory...more in line with my long-term objectives i.e. the ability to work anywhere; the ability to earn more income in the hopes of retiring early; the chance to pursue meaningful work."

"Why not have a wealth of knowledge in something that you are passionate about! Secret weapon for a happy and successful life." 

   
In my case, three years ago I looked towards Europe and said to myself, "I want to try that." I gave up a a 5-figure salary as a video editor, sold 90% of my belongings including my car, and moved to Spain with a suitcase, a backpack, a cat, and not knowing anyone in the entire region. Cut to the present, where in a few weeks I'll be corraling little kids at an elementary school, trying to inject a bit of English into their lives. In Canada, my colleagues and I feverishly worked to piece together stories about war, the health system, politics, and crime. Here in Jaén, my 10-year old student laughed while I showed her how to boogie down to “Crazy in Love” by Beyonce. When I edited at the t.v. station, I never worried about cash. Now, I make less than 800E a month. In addition, contracts run from October to May, so during the summer money is scarce. Last week I was so low on funds, I couldn't attend a birthday because an emergency came up and I had to buy medz. My choices were: eat ramen for a week, or buy real food but stay home a few nights. Real food won.

Spain has won my heart, too. I'm happy living here because 1) the money stress is short-term and in the summer, I learn to survive and have fun on little cash. Plus, 2) I wasn't happy in Canada. I had lots of money but felt bored in my city, having lived there my whole life. I worked weekends, so I couldn't do a lot with my friends.

Here, people place a big priority on personal happiness. I used to be confused and frustrated when students didn't want to study during the summer for exams. Now I understand: who wants to work or study when the days are long and hot, and the only solution is a cold drink and the beach? Who wants to stay rooted in one city when there are so many summer festivals and interesting places to visit a few hours away? These days, the girl who worked almost every weekend in Canada for thirteen years does NOT teach English on weekends in Spain. I've found time to achieve a few goals, such as writing a short ebook and visiting places I'd only dreamt of while in Canada. Just by living in Spain, which is such a different country, I enjoy learning new things and being a student.

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.
 

Granada: Flirting and Fame

Last week I jumped on the opportunity to join a group of 13-14 year olds from my teaching job on a school trip to Granada's Science Park and the Alhambra. I've always loved seeing the old fortress, and it was my first time at the Science Park. Watching the kids, I remembered the dynamics of my childhood: the girls who showed up wearing the same clothes and makeup (did I really go to school wearing shorts that short? Probably.); the awkward boys learning how to be affectionate with the females; the kids who cared more about running around on the playground than having a boyfriend; the young couples.

Observing the first group, the 'it' girls, was interesting. Whether it's a result or a cause of Facebook and Instagram, they took photos against every backdrop possible, posing as if they were in a photoshoot. Most of the time, they'd stand against a blank wall, only caring that the lighting was good. One of the teachers was obviously disgusted, commenting on their behaviour both to them and to us, the monitors. I thought it was ridiculous too, but I remembered being image-obsessed back then. (P.S. Nothing's changed. Haha)

Granada's a very popular city for tourists, so the girls met a group of Americans from Connecticut, in the Science Park. I was so proud that they were able to practice their English in a fun way, by flirting. Numbers were exchanged within minutes. When we parted, the girls immediately sent flirty Whatsapp messages to the American boys.

“Teacher, I spoke English with a boy! He's my friend now!”

“Well, that was fast,” I thought. “A phone number in five minutes? That teenager's got more skills than me.”