My day as a real teacher

Last week, the woman I normally teach with in the mornings on Thursdays couldn't come to school. Since I am not actually a teacher, I was not allowed to be alone in the classroom but still I was in charge.  For the first time ever pretty much, I gave an entire one hour ingles lesson to a class of 27 Spanish six year olds, three one hour classes to be exact. This is not totally and completely new to me, as I have spent the last three months teaching myself how to teach on the job teaching English in a private academy. But boy was this experience different from teaching after school classes of eight students max. 

Additionally, the teacher didn't leave me much of a lesson plan. She told me to review everything we have learned so far, a very daunting task it seemed at first. I was lucky enough to have an English teacher with me in class the first hour but before we started he said to me "today you are the teacher and I am the assistant, the class is all yours". Whoa. Well long story short it turned out okay. The next two classes I didn't have an English teacher in the room with me, just another teacher who had a break period. So I am glad I was able to do the trial run with an English speaker in the room. 

The at first overwhelming task of reviewing everything we have learned so far turned out to be quite the opposite. Since the children are so young, the amount of material we have covered is really small but at the same time quite impressive. These little pipsqueaks have really soaked up a lot of vocabulary since I started with them in October. We reviewed the parts of the body and face (don't think I even knew the word torso when I was 6 years old!), we made a list of healthy versus unhealthy foods, (most still think hamburgers are healthy but we'll chalk that up to a cultural difference not lack of vocabulary), we talked about the members of our families and modes of communication (doesn't hurt that the Spanish word for radio is radio and the word for Internet is Internet).  Still very pleased with the progress we've made. 

And to be honest I am pretty pleased with myself. What I imagined at first would be a disaster actually turned out to be an enjoyable day. One of the three classes gave me a lot of trouble and it was very discouraging. But after talking to a few other teachers during recess they all told me not to worry because this class is a problem for everyone. Feel bad for their teacher. In the other two sections we had a lot of fun playing games, reviewing flashcards and even learning some new vocabulary. Although my day was mostly a success, I still don't think I see teaching in my future. 27:1 is never a good ratio, no matter how patient you are! 

Reentry

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*imagine this was posted one week ago

Today is Wednesday. I got back to Spain on Monday. I noticed it’s been a while since my last post (thanks parents for constantly remind me of that fact). Although nothing crazy and adventurous has happened, except for my two transatlantic flights, my new year’s resolution is to write more (how many times have we heard that before?) and enjoy every moment of my last “semester” in Spain.

I am calling this post “Reentry” not because I want to write about my voyage through customs in Lisbon, but because I want to remind my future self, and other daring individuals who pick themselves up and move to a foreign country, how even after a year and a half of living in a place, coming back is never easy.

I could not have been more excited that this year I was fortunate enough to go home for the Christmas holidays to be with my family and friends. As soon as December started, and everyone began the countdown to Christmas day, I began my countdown to the 21^st, the day I was flying home. I had been talking for weeks with friends and family members about all the fun things we wanted to do during my visit to NY. Of course only about half of those things happened, but no complaints here. I celebrated Jew Christmas with my family, went skiing, saw a show on Broadway, rang in the New Year with my best friends, but most importantly spent quality time with people I really care about. I had a wonderful break.

People who have lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time often find themselves wishing they were in the place they weren’t. I am no exception. When I’m at home all I do is talk about Spain, when I’m in Spain, all I do is compare life here to the life I grew up with in America. It is almost like a disease that every expat catches, at least the ones I have talked to. It is impossible to avoid, and I think in a way that is a good thing. Without recognizing the differences between one place and another, it is impossible to appreciate what one country has to offer that the other does not.

Now after all these sappy, extremely broad observations I have just made, I still have to reiterate, no matter how prepared you think you are, no matter how long you have lived in another country, going “home” (original place of birth) or coming back after a vacation at “home, IS NOT EASY.

Going home, not easy? Sounds strange. But after so many months/years, one grows accustomed to a way of life. Although I’ve spent the majority of my life in America, it still shocks me sometimes when I come home from Spain and go to the supermarket and see 86 different varieties of water on the shelf. Water is water no? No. At least not in America. And for an indecisive person like me to have so much variety, and then on top of that, the shock of so much variety, no bueno. And on the flip side, when I am back in Spain, and I only have two brands of water to choose from, I am extremely disappointed. Just can’t win.

Ok, I know you are thinking, really Joanna? You are complaining about having too much variety and then having none? If that is your biggest problem in life, then you have things pretty good. And you’re right. I do have it pretty good. But put aside the petty differences between Spain and the good old USA, there are less tangible differences that make re-entering life abroad difficult. Luckily, this time around wasn’t so bad, because I was only home for two weeks. But the very day I got back, and the first day back at work, was not easy. I wondered, why do I do this to myself. I’ve never been good at transitions. And here I am, still living life semester-to-semester, transitioning every 3-6 months.

Then I remembered: the constant sunshine, 65 degree days in January, café con leche, cerveza at noon, rebajas (sales) for two months after Christmas, waking up at 11am to go to work (don’t be too jealous, I don’t get home until 11pm), eating a full feast at lunchtime for 10 euros max, siesta (good for those who can take it), students that tell me everyday that I am beautiful.  And so much more.

No, there are no bagels here; there is no heat in the winter or AC in the summer (at least where I live). But this is not forever (I don’t think). And as long as I can remember that, “reentry” will always be a little bit easier.