school

Two types of teachers

/ helenstasa / 2 Comments

This week has been my first week of “proper” teaching (last week was really just orientation), and, over the past two days, I have realised that the teachers at my school seem to fall into two distinct categories…

Type 1. The “I have no idea what you’re doing here” teacher

This type of teacher is by far the most common. They know that I am there as a language assistant, but they don’t seem to have any conception of what my job actually entails (although they have been told by both me and the co-ordinator MULTIPLE times that I am there to work with them in the classroom, and assist with speaking and listening activities).

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As they don’t know what I’m doing, and they haven’t bothered to plan the lesson, this means that they have to try and think of something for me to do on the spot. And, typically, this involves me being given 3 or 4 unfortunate students, and being told to take them outside to “speak in English” about “whatever (you) want.” There’s no plan. No materials. Nothing. And this lasts for 45 minutes.

Right….

Needless to say, it is a disaster. Because the kids aren’t familiar with me, they don’t listen to what I’m saying, and talk in Spanish, rather than English. As I have no materials, it’s really hard to think of relevant activities. And because I’ve never taught, I have no idea what level the children are at. Can a 6 year old read, for example? I don’t know!

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Type 2. The “You’re here as a teacher, so you can teach” teacher

This type of teacher is much less common, but is also hard to deal with. Rather than having no idea what to do with me, the “You’re here as a teacher, so you can teach” teacher expects me to do their job. Perfectly. Without any preparation time. While they sit at the back of the room, relaxing.

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Today, I had three such classes. In the first, I had to talk to Year 6 students about the concept of self-respect. In the next class, I had to teach Year 5 students grammatical structures for expressing likes and dislikes. And, in the most ridiculous class of all, I found myself trying to teach a group of 5 year olds that you eat lunch in the dining room, whilst one of the little boys kept tugging on my arm, telling me that he had something in his eye, and asking me to help him wash it out.

It was absolute hell.

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“The School of Athens.” It’s NOT like this.

There’s one teacher at the school who seems to understand what I’m meant to be doing. He lets me read all the materials, introduces the subject to the students, and then invites me to lead the class discussion, while he sits there and helps.

I love working with him.

But he’s a substitute, so he’s only there when one of the other (dreadful) teachers is away.

All I can say is, if the students learn ANY English this year, I’m going to be happy. And surprised…

I don’t understand…

/ helenstasa / 4 Comments

One thing which has become clearly apparent to me over the last week (yes, I have been in Spain for 7 days now!) is how different it is trying to speak Spanish in the real world versus learning Spanish in class…

In class, the teacher spoke incredibly clearly and distinctly, repeating things where necessary, and making sure we had SOME idea what was going on before asking us to respond. (Gracias, Gabriel!)

Not so in the real world. Everyone seems to be speaking INCREDIBLY fast, and because I’m not fluent, I need lots of time to a) translate what they are saying, then b) formulate my response in English, and c) then say it in Spanish.

Let’s just say, the pace is leaving me for dead.

But not only is the pace too fast, I’ve also come to realise that I have a REALLY nasty habit of smiling and nodding and saying “si, si, yo entiendo” (yes, yes, I understand), even when I most certainly do not entiendo.

Nada.

Today’s example. I went to the Town Hall in Valdebernardo to try and register as a Madrid inhabitant, which I need for my identity card (hello, bureaucracy). First, I approached the secretary’s counter. She said something that I couldn’t understand, but waved her hand towards the other side of the room, which I took to mean “You go over there.” So off I went.

Then I explained my purpose, in carefully rehearsed Spanish, to the man behind the counter. He responded with a barrage of words, gesticulating wildly, as I furiously nodded, and “si”-ed away. From what I could gather, he told me that he couldn’t register my document as I don’t live in Valdebernardo. Instead, I have to go to the office closest to my residence, but there is a one month wait for appointments. At least I THINK that’s what he said. I heard “No”, “not here”, “where you live”, “wait a month”, and inferred the rest.

I don’t know why (Social expectations? Shyness? Being totally overwhelmed? A mixture of all?) I never say “I don’t understand.” I just play along with it, and the less  I understand, the more crazy my gestures and “si”s become.

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I really need to summon the courage to say “Look, I didn’t get that. Could you repeat it?”, or else I may soon find myself nodding furiously and agreeing that yes, I am a complete idiot, and yes, I should take the first plane back to Australia and never set foot in Spain again…

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My first day of school

/ helenstasa / Leave a comment

Today, I started back at school, something I never thought I would be doing at the ripe old age of 35…

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The day started poorly, when I realised I had left my passport at home, and had to return to my apartment. But it wasn’t all bad! When I went to change train lines, there was a busker playing “Beds are burning”! It was positively bizarre to hear a Spanish guy perfectly imitating Peter Garrett’s distinctive warble (albeit without dance moves, unfortunately).

My school is a public infants/primary school in a suburb called Valdebernardo, about 40 minutes from my place. It’s a bilingual school, so 40% of the lessons are in English, with the remainder in Spanish. Here’s the website.

This year, there are 5 English language assistants at the school. Three of them were there last year as well, which I guess is a positive thing. If the school was REALLY bad, they wouldn’t want to go back, would they? I am by far the oldest, by about 10 years, and I’ve got to admit, our priorities seem to be VERY different. The other assistants’ conversation seemed to focus almost entirely on money (in particular, the things they do in order to save 1€, such as hitching to Portugal instead of taking the bus); gossiping about who the worst teachers are (the ones whose classes I am in, needless to say); and complaining non-stop about their schedules (which, to be honest, weren’t that bad- we are all only working 3.5 days a week, with Monday or Friday free).

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I’m not going to deny it, I found these conversations depressing. Sure, it’s important to save money, I can accept that. And yes, I am probably in a very different financial position to some of the 22 year old conversation assistants. But, pathetic as it may sound, I actually WANT to teach at the school, rather than using it purely as a means to a Spanish visa, and to be made to feel that there was something “wrong” with me because of this was a bit disheartening 😦

Hopefully, things will improve when the teaching starts 🙂