This week, I taught my children the words: Muttonchops, FML and bullshit.
Maybe it’s time to rethink my career choices…
Discipline, Spanish Style
February 11, 2009 by · 2 Comments
Last year, Nancy Bielski came to visit me. Since she’s in school to be an English teacher, I brought her along one day so that she could see what Spanish schools are like. Her reaction went something like this: “OH. MY. GODDDD.” Followed by, “I have never seen such poorly behaved kids in my whole life.”
While I wouldn’t liken teaching in a Spanish village to teaching in inner-city Chicago, we definitely have our share of discipline problems. Kids hit each other in the hallways, destroy our new computers and mouth off to teachers. I’ve had to yell quite a few times, and often end up tuckered out after a four-hour day. Teachers blame the lax education system and the reverence that Spanish kids receive. “Well, if my son/daughter doesn’t want to learn, I won’t force them” and “Well, if my son/daughter doesn’t want to learn, you should be a better teacher” are as common as teachers handing out partes, which are like demerits. I’ve given out just two in the 12 months I’ve taught at IES Heliche. In fact, students get partes just for not turning in homework! Most of them rack up several in a term and could care less if a teacher has to call home once or twice. To me, it’s totally unuseful.
Every other Wednesday, I’d like to jump off the highest building in Olivares (which is maybe 2 floors, unless you count a church) because I not only have five hours of class, but I also have 1D. For some reason, this class is always cursed. Year after year, teachers tell me, the students in 1D have the worst behavioral problems and the most partes, almost like being in the lead for the school food drive or something. When I came into class a little late (actually on time since the teacher has to go there immediately to prevent the kids from throwing the desks out the windows or something), the teacher was screaming at everyone to sit down and demanding to know what happened to the eraser for the chalkboard. Clearly, none of the kids fessed up, and my attempts to get them to behave and focus on the language village were futile. The teacher, a very calm woman, finally went to the equivalent of the dean for help. Fernando is tall and unnerving and in charge of all of the discipline in the school. He’s pretty good for the job, in my opinion, because he’s scary.
I tried my best to at least correct the worksheet we’d done last week before Fernando came. The whole room got SILENT and I thought some of the kids would have liked to crawl under their desks from the looks on their faces. “It’s been called to my attention that someone has spit gum onto the blackboard (oops, missed that one!) and a second person has hidden the eraser. Who would like to confess to doing it?” No one, clearly. He asked a second time. And a third, adding that now the crime had gone from bad but excusable to bad and not-so-excuseable. Finally, he asked the kids to take out a piece of paper and write down the names of the students who had committed the acts. After counting them, he announced the names of two kids – both huge troublemakers and smartasses. He interrupted me twice more to call out two other students before giving the students more partes and threatening expulsion. The whole class was quiet and not even one of them asked what kind of punishments they’d be getting.
That lasted a whole two minutes until I was back to, “CAAAAALLLLLAAAARRRROOOOSSSS!”
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What to do about next year
January 29, 2009 by · 1 Comment
This is the time of the year when I am sick of my job. Still lagging from the holiday season (and three-week vacation), kids still not focused, shit weather and me wondering about what I want to do next year. It’s a weird balance – half of me (well, a little more than half) wants to stay in Spain while the other half wants to move on, move somewhere new and try something different. After all, I won’t teach English my whole life, and if I do continue for another year or two, why not do it on the beach in Thailand or near the Patagonia in Chile?
This year has been different in so many ways at school, despite already knowing my students and their abilities well and having the newer members of the staff be even more welcoming and inclusive to me than last year. But I feel much more integrated OUTSIDE of the English department. Because I devote nearly half of my hours specifically to the Bilingual group, I generally only have class with the teachers once every two weeks. For instance, Valle no longer takes me to school, so I had no idea she’s traveling to India in Nepal in a few weeks!
This year it’s been easier to measure success. I can note the progress some students and many teachers have made since I arrived last year, even hearing more English in the teacher’s lounge than last year. Many greet me with “Hello” instead of “Hola” and I’ve been correcting homework and copying extra worksheets because people have been more interested in learning English. Very cool.
So, you can imagine my disappointment in learning that the Junta de Andalucía, my employer, is not guaranteeing that I’ll have a job next year. I’m welcome to reapply, but since they’re cutting the positions in half (that’s to say, one assistant at each school instead of two), it’s likely I’ll get ousted in favor of a new applicant. I’m just about done with my reapplication and am keeping my fingers crossed. After China, I’m going to start tackling all of the private schools in the area to see if they’re looking for a language assistant of sorts. De todas formas, I’m staying put in Spain for a while longer. I’m not done here yet.
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La Vuelta al Cole
October 3, 2008 by · Leave a Comment
I woke up yesterday morning peeing in my pants, both from drinking a few beers before bed and from sheer excitement. It was finally October and I could finally go back to school in Olivares and start working.
I initially hesitated about returning to school before this date, mainly because I didn’t want to get attacked. I can get a little awkward with my Spanish and with forgetting people’s names (hello, we have 85 teachers in my center) and not even being a teacher. Moreover, I knew the kids would ask me about my dog and my boyfriend and my summer and, honestly, I wasn’t ready for it.
I sat on bus M-270 with a student from Valencina to Olivares, passing the same things I used to stare at four mornings and four afternoons a week. Nothing has really changed about the campo, which is actually refreshing. Even though Olivares is close to Sevilla (just about 10 miles west of the city), it seems a million worlds away. I remember bringing in postcards as a writing activity and having my students tell me most of them had never been out of Andalucia! Many of them only go to school until age 16, then drop out of school to become farmers, plumbers, bricklayers or gardeners. Their parents see no practical use for English, so many of them just tune out in class.
As soon as I walked in the door with Alejandro, I thought I was going to pee again. I was immediately welcomed by the Consejeria staff, which make the photocopies and dole out pieces of chalk. Emilio was poking fun at me as always and Meleni hugged me really tight, as she usually did on Thursday afternoons when I left last year. I snuck into the teacher’s lounge before any students could see me. I was greeted with lots of kisses and questions about Kike, of course! I have to say, I really felt like they consider me a colleague, not just some American kid who dicks around in class for 12 hours every week. Last year, I was twice as young as the other auxiliar, meaning I got on with the kids well, but didn’t relate to the teachers like Martin did.
But this year, I’m the only auxiliar. Nieves learned late last week that the other girl would not be coming to Heliche, so she called me to tell me she’d need to change my schedule. She didn’t want to make too many changes, so she was able to keep me working just three days a week (Monday, Wednesday and Thursday). She also put me in classes with the best-behaved kids who would benefit most from having a language assistant. I offered to go half the period or alternate weeks to accommodate more classes, but we’ll see. I’ll be teaching the bilingual group of kids, who receive 40% of their coursework in English, in their language classes, one hour of music and two of art each week. Then, I’ll be in English classes for 6 hours and have an hour for conversation and one for planning. Doesn’t sound too bad, but I’ll be the only music teacher. I won’t have to give grades other than participation and use of English.
I wished we had another person to help cover the classes, mainly because my director works so hard. She;s put in a lot of time to making the bilingual program successful and has had a lot of disappointment in just one month. Emilio, the music teacher, has left to finish his masters (leaving me with his lesson plans! YIKES me alone with 12 year olds!). Carmen, the history teacher, didn’t pass her English exam and cannot teach in the program until next year (which gives me incentive to stay again!) and now we have one less assistant. She can’t comply to everyone who wants to have one-on-one conversation hour, or even to kids who have asked if I can cover a class. It was hard seeing them and having to tell them I wasn’t teaching their class.
There are two new teachers in the English department, both younger males. This is better for poor Miguel, who was the only one last year, save Martin. One is new to Sevilla, and I hope I can help him meet people because he’s really nice. I greatly missed Angela and Silvia, the two young teachers from last year, because it seems like there isn’t a single young teacher in the school this year! Regardless, Neme was ready to give me advice about Kike and Lucia told me to get oil and not butter with my tostada. Everyone had the same things to say: You’re skinnier and your Spanish is better. Because Spanish people are so blunt, I figured they were telling the truth!
We’ll see how it all goes. Nieves is really open to my suggestions, and I feel like they trust me. It’s so comforting to feel like I belong somewhere and that people appreciate the work I’m doing. I don’t know how much the kids learn, but da igual. They’re getting exposure to a native and learning that not all Americans have guns!
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End of the school year at IES Heliche
May 20, 2008 by · 2 Comments
Things are starting to wind down at school. I can tell by the attitudes of my students and coworkers, as well as my own motivations in planning lessons. In a swirl of final exams, excursions and kids getting really tired and lazy, the last month has passed so quickly. I can’t believe how fast eight months at I.E.S. Heliche have gone by! I remember my first day, standing in front of 30 or so high schoolers, not having a clue about teaching or even a good handle on English grammar and not having a clue what to expect. I may not have gotten these kids to speak English like pros or even really like the class, but I’ve established a lot of really good relationships. I’m constantly being asked for my messenger form students, meaning I had to sign up for yet another email address! They take pictures with me on their mobile phones and remind me not to smile. Teachers know a little bit too much about my personal life. I’ve learned that I can’t get them to study or sometimes even pay attention in class, but what’s more important is the exposure they’re getting to English and to an American. And, being the youngest of the three assistants, I think I’ve been able to bond with them and make them feel more comfortable. As irritating as they sometimes are, I’m going to miss them, and I can hardly believe that I’ve only got four more days left of teaching till next year. (due to a strike tomorrow and a puente weekend for Corpus Christi).
Last week, I worked an extra day to help Martin, the 41-year old Dutch assistant, conduct his final exams. Rather than taking a written test, students worked on dialogues with Martin every week in preparation for a real-life test. I have to say, I was really impressed with his work and all of the preparation. He created backdrops of a hotel, tourism office, store and restaurant and loaded them with props and plants (my school has gardening classes. strange, i know). He also painted a British telephone cabin, made from two large boxes! When the kids arrived to “customs” they were no longer allowed to speak Spanish to answer questions about their name, age, birthday and nationality for their passports. Each passport stamp was given at each station, so long as they finished tasks. There were about 90 students involved. The ESO kids were really nervous – one little boy just pointed at things and I tried to elicit information from him. It was really hard for him. Others, like my most favorite student Vasco, could carry on a conversation. He invited me to be his date for lunch at the restaurant, then told me he didn’t have his wallet and had invited his two other girlfriends! It was a really long day, especially after working all week, but the kids were really excited to see English used in a real context. Kids in the Communications class videotaped for the website, Nieves’ friends traveled from other schools in the area to see the village, and all of my students were jealous. Martin treated us to a fantastic lunch, cooked by the woman who makes us coffee and snacks in the cantina. I ate a lot and met other assistants who came to help. I was originally supposed to sit by the headmistress, but Nieves switched spots with me, knowing how much Carmen scares me!! I arrived home exhausted and in a food coma, but the village was so much fun and a big success. A huge congratulations to Martin, who will make a wonderful English teacher back in Holland.
So what about next year? Ive already told my students they have to stay another year so they can see me, and given my email address to a lot of the older kids. Next year, my school will begin as a bilingual school. From what I can tell, this means one class will be taking music, art and geography classes once a week in English for more exposure. Since I already have a relationship with these teachers (Emilio, Felisabel and Carmen Moreno, who is like my therapist here!), I’ll be assisting in those classes, plus planning. This means I’ll be in just a few English classes, but I think I’ll enjoy my new role a lot. Many of the teachers who have a fixed position in the school have told me they’re happy to have me back, except for maybe Emilio from Consejería, who I try to run away from because we’ve just got that kind of relationship. Next year, I’ll be more prepared and know what to expect. I won’t get off the bus at the other side of town and have to rely on a stranger for a ride, either!
So, now, I’ve got a long weekend in the Canary Islands with Kike to enjoy, then one more week of teaching. 12 classes, one field trip and a whole lot of pictures. Below are a few of my kiddies and coworkers:
above: 1E and Isidoro, the adorable little guy in the glasses who chases me down the hall
Vasco, my absolute favorite kid in the whole wide world. I told him to stay in school.
4A, a class full of really silly kids who always ask me about my dog and about my boyfriend.
above and below: 2E and 2G. Lazy kids. I made one of the girls in the picture below cry.
iBachD. My absolute favorites. The girls above are all dolls, and I love teaching with Valle (in the blue shirt below). I get sad when I can’t go to class.
IIBachA, the smarties who have really imaginative minds.
Below is 2C, a noisy group that does a lot of speaking in English.
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Working for the weekend
March 8, 2008 by · Leave a Comment
Summertime has descended upon Spain. I happen to be here during one of the warmest winters, falls, etc., and with Semana Santa and Feria de Abril already coming, it seems it’s going to be a really cruel summer. That said, I’m starting to get as itchy as my students for summertime and beaches and MORE sun. And while working 12 hours (plus private lessons and planning and commuting) isn’t much, I’m always ready for the weekend so I can sleep past 6:50 a.m. and take advantage of the weather, traveling, and this interesting and varied country. I work for the weekend. By the time Thursday afternoon at 12:55 arrives, I am more than ready for a break from my students. I usually start the weekend off with a looooooong nap, even before having lunch. Then it’s facebook/youtube/general laziness time. I typically eat dinner with Kike and go out for a bit before resting up for the weekend. But lately, I’ve been trying to do all of my work so I can do whatever me apetece (whatever appeals to me) during the weekend. That means cleaning, lesson planning, errands, etc. I’ve found that the need to pack as much into this experience has prevailed over what I really should be doing (you know, sleeping, putting a lot of effort into my lessons, etc.).
This last weekend, I didn’t even check my email for two days. On Thursday, I did take some time to rest, but I was so hopped up on caffeine, I couldn’t do anything but watch TV. At night, we celebrated my roommate Melissa’s birthday. Her two best friends, Carolina and Alicia, invited us over for dinner at their piso. They made all kinds of tapas, potatoes and a red meat cooked with beer and onions and mushrooms. Sobre todo, I was able to speak several hours in Spanish and have people understand me. I can express myself fine on paper and understand things well, but I seem to get really closed off when I have to speak. Of my Sevilla friends, I think I speak the worst Spanish, even though I’ve been assured many times that I speak well. I considered it a huge compliment that Caro and I could understand each other. From there, we headed to Buddha, where I fended off study abroad students trying to speak to me in Spanish (geez, I’m a brat) while getting free shots for my grupito because a friend’s ex-boyfriend works there. By the time I finally dragged myself home at 530 a.m., I was already cursing myself for how I’d feel the next morning – not hungover, but realllllly tired.
In order to reapply for my job next year, I have to get a medical checkup. After making about 6 phone calls to ask the insurance company what exactly I had to do, I got an appointment and instructions to go to the other side of town to get a sheet of paper for the doctor to fill out. Figures. Armed with enough crap to do for about 2 hours, I went to the Colegio Oficial de Medicos and waited a mere 30 seconds. Turns out all I needed to do was pay 3,48E and ask the woman for the sheet. I spent the afternoon drinking beer outside on a hot, clear day. I have to admit I love standing at a table on a sidewalk watching cars and people go by. And it helps being accompanied by a good-looking man. After downing about 3 kilos of salmonetes (red herring), I slept for a loooong time. Instead of finishing my things, I went for dinner at my friend Christine’s and went out. She lives with her Spanish boyfriend, Alfonso, so I did a lot more Spanish practicing. This was good for arguing with the cabbie who didn’t reset the meter and then took me to the wrong street. No me jodas, chaval. That means don’t screw with me, man.
Again, I woke up really upset with myself for staying out so long. Saturday, I went with 12 of my coworkers to the nearby town of Jerez de la Frontera, the foremost producer of sherry in Spain. It’s about an hour away by train, and sitting next to my bilingual director, Nieves, solidified my decision to teach again in Olivares next year. She was talking and talking about how much she enjoys having Martin and me there, and how the kids have really shown an improvement. Phew. I, too, have noticed the kids taking a lot more interest in what I’m teaching and making more of an effort. The turning point was really quitting my other job, but also stooping to their level and ensuring them that I’m also learning. During the day in Jerez, we all spoke in Spanish, and many noted the improvement in my language skills. When we arrived to the newer part of town, we walked into the historic center with Irene as our tour guide, high along the mountain the city rests on, to Bodegas Gonzalez Byass. If you’ve seen a bottle of wine dressed in a little suit with a hat and guitar, you’re familiar with the brand Tio Pepe. GB is one of the oldest and most well-known (along with the most successful) wineries in Spain. A little train took us past its extensive gardens to the corner where their brandy brand is made. Here, they don’t produce as much, but it’s really high quality, and the machines look ancient. We walked along whitewashed buildings that would soon be covered in vines to keep the stock cool inside to where the sherry is made – cask after cask after cask. I’ve read a lot about Spanish wine and even wrote a paper about it, but seeing the cobwebs growing between cask and having the sour smell of the wine mixed with the wood was kind of exciting. The bodega, the Spanish word for cellar or winery, has been visited by famous people form around the world, and there’s quite a bit of symbolism to a lot the casks and how the wine is made. In one of the rooms, there is a tiny glass of wine and a little bit of cheese in the middle of the floor. I missed the first half of the explanation, but the little tapas and glass is set out for the mice. The mice are supposed to be attracted to the cheese and drink the wine and get too drunk to climb onto the casks. It was quite curious watching them all run between the cheese and glass.
Upon exciting into the brightness, I was overcome by the huge cathedral. Irene took us past where she used to live and through the center of town. Compared to Sevilla, Jerez is small and relaxed and quiet. The thirteen of us took over a restaurant called El Juanito, where we shared alcachofas (artichokes), sopa de gambas (tomato soup with shrimp and noodles), pisto (vegetables), albóndigas con tomate (meatballs in a red sauce), ensaladilla (tuna, noodles, mayo and peas) and some other stuff I have no idea what it is. My coworkers are really fun, and a bit guareros, or dirty minded. When they noted my improvement, I replied, “Bueno, tener un novio español me ha ensenado mucha de la lengua.” I know that lengua means both language and tongue, but they all thought I meant he had taught me a lot about dirty things. Baha. We spent about three hours at the place, ordering more beers or coffees or sweets before heading back. I rode back a bit earlier with Felisabel from the art department. She’s taking class from a friend of mine, Jenny, who is also from Chicago. Jenny picked up on her north american accent and Felisabell said, “A girl from Chicago named Cat taught it to me!” If my students aren’t getting it, at least someone is!
That night, my dear friend Kelly celebrated her birthday. She had a big party at her house and made delicious and SPICY Mexican food. I ignored my drink and sat in front of the table stuffing my face. Kelly was the first friend I made here, so I knew most of the people there, and I found out a lot of the other auxiliaries had chosen to stay next year, too. We headed to C/Betis at about 3am, and all I did was laugh at how silly everyone is. I am so fortunate to have good friends here. What’s more, I have a really great boyfriend. Really, I’m kind of in love with him. He’s been involved with plenty of Americans, but I found out he has gotten bored with all the rest of them really easily. He wants me to go back to the states this summer to be with my family this summer, but he says he’s been looking for flights and trying to ask for some more time off to come visit me and see Chicago. I talk it up a lot.
After arriving back home about 530 am, we got up at 830 to go to Kike’s base in Moron de la Frontera, about 45 km away. He’s a pilot for the Spanish army and flies planes! I really wanted to see what he does everyday, since I talk about my little capullos allllll the time. And planes really excite him. So he chose to do his servicio, where he’s on duty for 24 hours, on a Sunday so that I could go with him. He gets to stay in a little room with two beds and a TV and a bathroom and wait for the phone to ring. We went early and had breakfast, then slept most of the day. He looks kind of adorable in his flight suit, but the hat is too silly. He showed my around his squadron and taught me the different kinds of airplanes and introduced me to the few people who were there. Nothing was open (sadly, I could not eat subway like I had the ganas to!), so we scrounged around in the cafeteria for something to eat. We had little choice – only Kraft dinner versions of Spanish food like paella de mariscos, fabes asturianos and instant soup. Luckily, Montero is a great cook and there was plenty of pepper. He spent a few hours playing guitar hero while I worked on lessons and my reapplication things. We tried once more for Subway, but ended up eating Digiorno pizza and drinking Dr. Pepper at the American bar on the base. A lot of Americans get stationed there, so I could talk to my compatriots about American things for once! I have to admit I know very little about the military, but going to the base was really, really cool. Seeing how things work made me realize just how intelligent Kike is. He studied physics and math and whatever the hell you need to know for flying a big plane and dropping bombs – and a lot in English, since his plane is American. And I know he loves me because he let me take his car back to Sevilla. A Mercedes. And I’m still alive and the car is still intact. It was freaaaaaking scary!!!
I’m off to The Basque Country with Kelly later this week, then I’ll be back in Sevilla for a day and I’ll head to the Algarve in Southern Portugal with Kike and some other people for the later part of the holy week.
