The Rollercoaster that is Infantíl

September 22, 2010 by · 2 Comments

My job could be a lot worse. I mean, I spent hours each day singing, playing with puppets and categorizing flashcards. When it’s all said and done, I’ve had fun and got pummeled with hugs, snotty kisses, and usually end up with plasticine somewhere on my clothes. The best piece of advice when starting all this was from Almudena: Throw out your high heels.

Yesterday, after a moderately successful day teaching “Where is Enadina? There she is!” and singing with Ralphie Rabbit, I was finally invited to have lunch with the other infantil teachers. Most are 32 and under, the youngest being Ana and then me. I took it as a big compliment that half the department asked if I’d be coming. We had día de los Papis immediately after, when all the parents come with their crying children to hear us speak about the cirriculum and, really, lay down the law. When María, the school’s director, presented me, saying that our enchantment with one another has been mutual. Phew. Still employed.
I have to say, it is not easy being new in a job. This is worsened when you have kinda no idea what you’re doing and it shows. Add that to the fact the girl who had your job before was amazing at what she did. Everyone from the parents to their kids to the Oxford University Press rep has been calling me Lisa, and when corrected, asks why she is no longer at the school. Bearing, Cat. It will all be ok.
But today, my THREE year olds were the best behaved. One kid threw dirt in another’s eye in 4 years (the dirt came from his pocket), another cried because I sent him to another class after he drew all over the table, and the 5 year olds could not be tamed. Even with another teacher coming in and yelling, they couldn’t follow one direction. And they all have to pee all the time! The second one asks to go, they all do, and they all run at a time into the teeny bathroom.

Preschoolers.

Filed Under: kids, teach abroad, TEFL · Tagged:

Algo se muere en el Almaaa

May 28, 2010 by · Leave a Comment
3ºBSara and Ana from 1ºbilingual and they cake they made me

4ºA

Every beginning has an end. The end of a relationship, the end of the road, the end of time. And my time was finally up at Heliche this week. To imagine the 1200+ hours spent teaching, laughing, trying to keep the kids from acting like zoo animals, drinking coffee (or anise!) in the teacher’s lounge, planning and correcting have all accumulated into one big lump of happy memories and a very satisfying experience.
There are days where I leave Olivares defeated, exhausted and feeling like I’m doing nothing productive. But these past two weeks have proved to me how far we have to push ourselves to get results and how much those things are appreciated in the end.
I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of hugs, gifts and tears I’ve had in the last two weeks. It’s been strange, counting down the days, holding on to the little bit of time I’ve been afforded. I usually feel rushed and have this dreaded anxious feeling as things wind down. This time, I’ve felt calm and ready. I know it’s good that the Junta is cutting me loose – I need to move on. Thankfully, my coworkers and students provided me with two wonderful last weeks to say goodbye and wish me well.
Penúltima semana:
Tuesday and Wednesday were normal days, minus the extra squeezes and the constant questions about why I was leaving. It was a weird feeling to start realizing that this was, in fact, the end. Nieves ignored me, not because of anger, but I think we’ve been able to do a lot of things with this program together. There have been people along the way who have given us big pushes, added their personalization and helped us make this all a success. But since I started with the first group of bilingual kids, I feel that they are mine.
Thursday was a tougher day. I said goodbye to my bachillerato kids, many of whom have been my students for a few years, but I never really felt too close to them. Emilio and I spent our conversation hour talking about Zapatero’s “tizerazo” or cutting of the national budget by robbing teachers of the little money they already make. I then had my 3A group. It’s a small class, but they brought me treats and a big card thanking me with the sweetest little notes from each of them. I got a little sniffly with my Isidoro, who wrote: Thanks for never making me feel ashamed to speak in class. We had brownies, Serafin took my camera and took pictures, and I gave a heartfelt goodbye. I’ve realized that the people at my school have really made my experience what it was, and I relayed this to them. Next came applause, a big group hug and kisses from each.
I spent Friday finishing up lots of little projects: writing a personal card to each kid in my second year bilingual class and all of my coworkers from the English department and Equipo Bilingüe, putting together a slide show chronicling the last few years and buying candy and goodies. I felt prepared to deal with the week, knowing fully well that tears were inevitable and part of the process.
Tuesday rolled around, and my first year bilingual kids baked me a cookie cake and gave me a lot of beautiful gifts: jewelry, fans, a school bag, a dress. I showed them my sideshow, and it was easily the quietest couple of minutes that we’d had all year! I then went to Nieves’s class to have another hour with her. We played a game and then I presented all of the kids with their personalized letter and some candy, and Nieves began to cry. I had to ask her to turn the desk around. In music, I presented a song that I liked, just as the kids were doing, but I chose Dave Matthews Band’s “The Best of What’s Around.” After we read through the song, clarified vocabulary and talked about the meaning behind the song, I could barely contain myself while we played it on the projector.
The lyrics say, “Turns out not where but who you’re with that really matter” and I relayed to them the importance they’ve had on my three cursillos at Heliche. My kids are young and impressionable, and I´ve watched many struggle with trying to find out where they fit. I did all of this in Spanish, thinking it was way too important to do in english so that half the meaning gets lost. Emilio, being the person he is, chimed in: Not only could I leave the class to cat for a year, which I did, but we could never expect to have someone with so much heart and so much enthusiasm for her students. TEARS COMMENCE. I got into Toñi´s car, unable to say much, and covered in gifts.
Wednesday was a long day. Music class was normal after the previous day, my conversation hour with Fernando reflective. My 4ºESO students threw me another party. I´ve had most of them for three years, so leaving them was especially hard. They gave me a cute bag and new earrings and sang Sevillanas de adiós to me. I cried my way through the whole class, especially when Maribel clung to me saying she hates English when I don´t come to class (and English is four days a week!). Technology was a normal class, with neither Fernando or I recognizing the fact that we would soon be separated.

Felisabel drove me home, as usual, and she told me she had been thinking of me the night before. How so, I asked? She went with a few friends for tapas in Plaza de Gavidia, and sat near a group of two american girls and several Spanish guys. One was lively and laughing, well-dressed, and continually ordering beers and chowing down on tapas, while the other sat silent and sulking. She grabbed her friend’s shoulder and said, “That´s the one I have been telling you about. Esa es mi Cat. That´s my Cat.”

Thursday, my last day, was just as I expected it to be. I arrived to school with Nieves looking sullen and helped her with a few tasks. She stuffed a present into my purse, and beautiful scarf with purple and green flowers, and said, quite frankly: “I´m not saying goodbye, so don’t talk to me today!” I tried to say goodbye to the school´s directors, but was turned away, so I went to find Mercedes, the woman who runs the cantina during recess and makes coffee for me when I ask, even going so far as to bring it to the teacher´s lounge for me. She thanked me for the brownies I made her and wished me a good summer. I don´t think she had realized it was my last LAST day until I announced, to which my open arms were met with a long hug and tears. “There won´t be anyone like you,” she said.
My coworkers from the department gave me a lovely bracelet with matching earrings, all met by tears and well wishes and big group hugs. I felt like I was in the receiving line of a wedding: one by one, more coworkers came to give me endless compliments – even ones whose names I didn´t know! Lucía said it best when she drove me to school for the last time the week before: “No one ever saw you adapting here and coming into your own. But you´re one of us now, and that´s why we´re sad to see you go.” Regardless, I know (and knew) that I´m leaving with having made a good impression on the school as a handworker, someone who puts her heart into her job and who maintains good relationships with all.
My last hour of class I will remember forever. Felisbael practically had to drag me out of the office, where I was making photocopies for Luis´s class, telling me that there was no time. When I got to the classroom a few minutes later, I hear chiding and shushing, and the lights were off with no students to be found. Upon opening the door, however, I had balloons emblazoned with “We love you!” thrown at me. I was in tears, Felisabel was in tears, and Mercedes was in tears again. The kids threw everything together at the last-minute, covering every detail – including tissue! They had written me messages on the board, brought in cakes and goodies, bought me gifts and awarded me several certificates. Each took the time to tell me what they will miss about our classes together. I was overwhelmed, both by the gesture and from all of the kids sticking cameras in my face, blubbering.
The party began, kids chowing down, me trembling as I cut the cake. Maria made me a CD with, what else, Sevillanas, so we cleared a space on the floor and began to dance. They sang Sevillanas de Adiós and I bit my lip, thinking of how far they´ve come in just two years. I took it all in, hoping the class period would stretch a bit longer, and I was able to get out of dancing using the “I fell and banged my knee up and the doctor said no” excuse until the very end.
when the bell rang, we had a big group hug and I gave each a hug and two kisses. On their way out, some of the girls started singing, “Algo Se Muere en el Alma (Cuando un Amigo Se Va). Yes, something, however small, dies within you when someone leaves, when you leave, when there´s a change. But, like in college, I have things to look forward to, too. Maybe they should rename it, “Algo se muere in el alma (cuando está vacia tu cartera)?”

Filed Under: goodbyes, IES Heliche, teach abroad, TEFL ·

…y se acabó: Saying Goodbye to IES Heliche

May 5, 2010 by · 2 Comments

If I have learned anything in Spain, it’s to not believe anything until it’s signed, sealed and delivered. Or, in the Junta de Andalucia’s case, signed, stamped and hand-delivered. But even without that piece of paper giving me a job back, I know the chances are less than a finding a Spanish vegetarian. I’m out of a job come the end of the month.

I did expect this all along, and I’m ready for something new. Really. I mean it. But it’s hard walking into my school, ticking off days, cleaning out my endless papers and lesson plans knowing that my days are numbered. No “Hola, Bicho Medio Gato Saborilla” greetings in the morning, no more having my tostada ready and waiting when I eat at the bar down the street.

I’ve been telling my coworkers and classmates little by little so as not to overwhelm myself or cry or both. Most expected me to come back, and I’ve gotten a lot of sympathetic looks which remind that, even when I feel distraught and worthless, I’m appreciated.

In the meantime, I’ve been exhausting every trámite possible to stay here. I keep running into brick walls head-on, really, but I’ll keep going until I get something. Forty-three CVs and counting…desearme suerte!!

Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, goodbyes, TEFL ·

Career Direction? ANDA YA!

November 5, 2009 by · Leave a Comment

This week, I taught my children the words: Muttonchops, FML and bullshit.

Maybe it’s time to rethink my career choices…

Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, teach abroad, TEFL ·

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!”

Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, IES Heliche, TEFL ·

Little Victories

November 9, 2007 by · 1 Comment
When you’re a TEFL teacher, or even just a language assistant in my case, you come to learn that the little things make your job really worthwhile. And in a place like Olivares, where a survey to poll favorite classes ends up failing because the kids don’t like school or see its importance, this is especially true.
Yesterday, I had two classes of 4ESO to teach. Both classes were working on past simple irregular. I was so excited to (cheat and) find a great song with a ton of examples of past simple irregulars like “found” and “woke” and “was” to use. The song is an old favorite of mine, Pearl Jam’s “Last Kiss” as it reminds me of my first boyfriend, Nick Pohl. I downloaded the song, put it onto a blank CD, copied the lyrics into Word, blanked out the irregular past simple verbs and came up with some warm up activities. I was ready to face one of the tougher groups – the young groups don’t behave, the older groups don’t participate, and 4ESO doesn’t behave OR participate.
The activity went like this: In class, I asked the students if they like American music. They all screamed, “YES! YES TEACHER!” I figured as such, as most music on 40 principales is American pop. I then asked what American singers or groups they liked. Most came up with Rihanna, Beyonce and Justin Timberlake. “Good,” I said, “all good examples.” I wrote the name of the band on the chalkboard and asked if anyone knew them. They didn’t, so I told them they ere a very famous group from the 1990s, then played the song. In the cloze activity, students were to listen to the song once through to get used to it, then listen a second and third time and try to come up with the words for the corresponding blanks. For example, “When I _____ (to wake) up, the raining was pouring down.” I then gave the students a little time to check their books or ask their classmates for help before we went over the song as a group and decided which verbs were irregular and why. I still had some time left over, and, being a super prepared teacher, I asked them reading comprehension questions. But something as simple as, “What happened to the girl?” Are too much. I need to break down the question into, “How many people are in the song?” and “Where are they?” for the students to begin to understand that there is a car accident. Since this group of 4ESOC is a bit more advanced, we even got to talk about driving safety, since they are about 16 or 17.
In 4ESOB, we didn’t get quite that far. I’ve found that if things are a bit off from a rule or exception, there are a million questions. Most of the time, I don’t have the answer. And when I asked what happened to the girl, it took me 5 minutes to solicit an answer of “She died.” I got everything from “Ella le dio luz a un bebe” (She gave birth) to “He killed the man in the other car” before Silvia stepped in to help. I practically rejoiced when the students understood.
When I only get one hour every other week with students, it’s really hard to measure their progress. But my job here isn’t to produce fluent little students – it’s merely to help teachers establish a curriculum and to practice their English. I’m fortunate to have 7 hours in the classroom actually working with students. And I love that they ask when I’m coming or come up to me and say one simple sentence and run away giggling. It’s fun. In some ways, I wish I could just travel and pick up odd jobs and meet new people every day (which is why traveling alone is so freaking fun). Here in Sevilla, I’ve got a contract and I’ve got to start a life and worry about making rent and keeping up with friends when it costs 53 cents a minute to call. But I like the stability and I like being established. In fact, I got an internship with We Love Spain, a student involvement group, and my pet projects will be talking to volunteer orgs and setting students up with opportunities to get involved while they’re here (can we say, my thing exactly?). I think it will also give me the chance to meet new people, even if they’re only here for a little while like Jost.
For the December puente, I’m off to Brussels, Belgium for a weekend because I found 4 tickets, roundtrip, for 106 euro TOTAL. For four of us. I love Ryan Air. Maybe one day I’ll be rich enough to buy every airline and provide low-cost tickets to everyone to any destination because this world is too big to only see part of it. For now, I’m just fine wandering.
And now, I leave you all (in particular Matt Kyhnn) with a picture of a swan from Galway as big as a smartcar. Un abrazo.
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Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, Language Assistants Program, teach abroad, TEFL ·
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