Summary of 2008
Jan and Feb- still working in my old job, fed up and thinking of leaving
March/ left job, started applying for other work and lived with mom for a bit.
April- started working in Bournemouth teaching English . No intro to teaching, did well under the circumstances. Breaking wasnt great, though found a very good spot for gymnastics.
June, July- Bournemouth again. Sun expected though rarely there. Not enough hours, low earnings.
August- Interview for Portugal- highest wages in Europe for Tefl teachers.
Late August- going to Portugal!
September- Bummed around Brum not doing alot, I would later regret this
Late Sept- Lisbon. Generally good, started blog, shite training but Lisbon was/is amazing.
Oct- Trouble in paradise, you can read it all here.
Nov- School gets better, weather still good, tho home life is stormy with the two girls bitching at each other no end, this lasts for over 5 weeks.
Dec- festive season is here, tho the weather is still warm ish. Teaching drags, especially the last 15 days. Housemates leave early and there is a wide selection of guests staying- Portuguese, portuguese french, turkish. I try to keep my head. Injuries come bk, I stagnate,
Portuguese comng along, learn the present continuous, simple past and present s=tense of regulars and a few irregulars,
Late Dec planning- In store is xmas at home in brum, boxing day with my gf, a fe days with friends, 30th in london, ny in brum then chill out till the 5th when all sytstems go, arriving into faro in the morning, 4 hour trip bk, blast it home then teaching till 10pm. Will be crazy.
The year from different perspectives
Economically- good and bad, got a job at least. Debts still loom and investments have lost 60% of their value,
Physically- up and down. Was very up unit injuries came bk. Since the start of the year I have damaged ligaments in my foot, re fucked my dislocated finger and had wrist issues. That said, i'm still alive!
Intellectually- Reading was good in UK, though here in Portugal I'm short on reading material!
Linguistically- Getting there with Portuguese, tho my Spanish is eroding and my Japanese has all but vanished!!
Spiritually- The sun and Ajuda help me through the low periods. Though my room will soon be a training spot, that'll see me through my f-ed up finger or not! Haven't devoted much time for the wej in me..
Professionally- Up and down, ending the year higher than I started! Got some praise from senior teachers and the big boss. Getting on well with teachers, staff and kids, albeit the bboying teacher might annoy through his general enthusiasm.
Musically- Couldnt dj in BM, and have no instruments in Lisbon. 09 is the music year, I am gonna start piano, and possibly buy a guitar.
Bboyingally- Hmmm, generally been a bit down on it. Bournemouth was dry until my final week. Lisboa aint got shit. There best bboy is a swiss 18 year old (who wants to get out as soon as poss, can't blame him). Oddly enough, training alone has pushed me further towards the abstract goal of ' getting better'.
That's it. Now write yours and post it in the comments section!
ps. Bet you won't.
Sunday, 21 December 2008
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
Some Comic Relief
Cambridge Comic relief
Well, juggling the morals of laughing at students is tough. In general, I don't do it- other studnts mocking other students sends me a tad loco. Though this example was so instantly funny it passed the ethical service station- no time for a stop, and kept on going, and going, and going.
The brief background to this story is one worth repeating as a) it sets the tone and b) my day (barring the joke) is almost identical, every Tuesday and Thursday.
I get in around 1ish, though sometimes before and sometimes after, depending on the transport and if the drivers have bothered turning up. At school I prepare, joke, eat scraps of food then 'teach' my level 5s, aka,private school punks that really need a reality slap from a big wet bacalhau (sticky, salty,wet, wide, fish, oh.... and Portuguese). I get through this class like an addict gets through rehab, kicking and screaming. For avid readers of the pearls of wisdom that are my entries on this online home of random ramblings, this was the group I 'happened' to be observed on (microscoped, prodded, and beaten with constant 'constructive'
So once I survive that 'class', and get out before preemptively chopping selective students, oh who am i kidding, all of them, into little pieces , it is on to the next section of my day. My exam class. They are all well meaning students. Though they always seem to comment, in fact, add a commentary to what is going on with me, uncannily reading me like I was an open yellow pages and they are comparing the looks of each and every ad. They do that, without me sayig a word. Soooo,. after the usual invigorating exam class I am normally famished. Eat a cheese roll(the only thing we get free at my work, oh and a free headache, but they don't seem to promote that much), then back in the 'game'- for my level shits, sorry, level pricks, sorry level 6. Dicks.
Anywho. These are also from the private school up the road, though you wouldn't know it aside from the odd mention about going to Amsterdam, smoking drugs, shockingly pretentious gems of language use I tell thee, so much so I've recommended that a few become poets.
On the whole the class is okay, though having already taught other teenagers I'm not that up for another lot. Luckily there are a few characters and it can sometimes be ok, better than the deathrow inmates (level5s) anyway.
So, the other day we were in class and one student asks me a question. It was near the end of the day, I was tired and this was a quiet student. He says, blank-straight faced, almost asking 'Jake, I have a cock,'. Hmmmm, how to respond. I honestly couldn't. I kinda just said 'hmm', then promptly laughed. He repeated, so did I. Then he said ' I toss cock'. More laughs from moi aka Mr Professional.
Turns out he wanted to say cough, cough in Portuguese, regrettably, sounds like toss. So, momentarily my normal Poker faced professionalism was shattered. Beautifully, no one else knew what was going on. So, perfect comic relief for the prison guard, sorry Tefl teacher(moi for those that can't keep up), at the end of a loooooooong day. Genius. Thanks Bernardo.
Well, juggling the morals of laughing at students is tough. In general, I don't do it- other studnts mocking other students sends me a tad loco. Though this example was so instantly funny it passed the ethical service station- no time for a stop, and kept on going, and going, and going.
The brief background to this story is one worth repeating as a) it sets the tone and b) my day (barring the joke) is almost identical, every Tuesday and Thursday.
I get in around 1ish, though sometimes before and sometimes after, depending on the transport and if the drivers have bothered turning up. At school I prepare, joke, eat scraps of food then 'teach' my level 5s, aka,private school punks that really need a reality slap from a big wet bacalhau (sticky, salty,wet, wide, fish, oh.... and Portuguese). I get through this class like an addict gets through rehab, kicking and screaming. For avid readers of the pearls of wisdom that are my entries on this online home of random ramblings, this was the group I 'happened' to be observed on (microscoped, prodded, and beaten with constant 'constructive'
So once I survive that 'class', and get out before preemptively chopping selective students, oh who am i kidding, all of them, into little pieces , it is on to the next section of my day. My exam class. They are all well meaning students. Though they always seem to comment, in fact, add a commentary to what is going on with me, uncannily reading me like I was an open yellow pages and they are comparing the looks of each and every ad. They do that, without me sayig a word. Soooo,. after the usual invigorating exam class I am normally famished. Eat a cheese roll(the only thing we get free at my work, oh and a free headache, but they don't seem to promote that much), then back in the 'game'- for my level shits, sorry, level pricks, sorry level 6. Dicks.
Anywho. These are also from the private school up the road, though you wouldn't know it aside from the odd mention about going to Amsterdam, smoking drugs, shockingly pretentious gems of language use I tell thee, so much so I've recommended that a few become poets.
On the whole the class is okay, though having already taught other teenagers I'm not that up for another lot. Luckily there are a few characters and it can sometimes be ok, better than the deathrow inmates (level5s) anyway.
So, the other day we were in class and one student asks me a question. It was near the end of the day, I was tired and this was a quiet student. He says, blank-straight faced, almost asking 'Jake, I have a cock,'. Hmmmm, how to respond. I honestly couldn't. I kinda just said 'hmm', then promptly laughed. He repeated, so did I. Then he said ' I toss cock'. More laughs from moi aka Mr Professional.
Turns out he wanted to say cough, cough in Portuguese, regrettably, sounds like toss. So, momentarily my normal Poker faced professionalism was shattered. Beautifully, no one else knew what was going on. So, perfect comic relief for the prison guard, sorry Tefl teacher(moi for those that can't keep up), at the end of a loooooooong day. Genius. Thanks Bernardo.
Sunday, 23 November 2008
prior to coming to lisbon poem, written at 3am...
to lisbon to lisbon that's where i'll go
no reason no reason but that's where i'll go
escaping our winter, hail, rain and snow
to lisboa portugal, that's where i'll go
Where will i go, what will i do
i'll teach, break and surf, that's what i'll do
not in the know, without muchuva clue
where and what, i'll manage to do
i've waited,.. oh i've put off and waited...
.....now is the time, the time has come
to finally,...... yes finally
... become a tefl bum!
......................................................................
first (and possibly last poem)........
no reason no reason but that's where i'll go
escaping our winter, hail, rain and snow
to lisboa portugal, that's where i'll go
Where will i go, what will i do
i'll teach, break and surf, that's what i'll do
not in the know, without muchuva clue
where and what, i'll manage to do
i've waited,.. oh i've put off and waited...
.....now is the time, the time has come
to finally,...... yes finally
... become a tefl bum!
......................................................................
first (and possibly last poem)........
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Eduardo scissorhands and the 'get him' haircuts
Needing a haircut in a foreign land is always odd. For women, I must say, it has to be easier. The standards are always high. Women are treated well whereever they are. No such luck for guys. For us a barbers can be VERY different, city to city, let alone country to country. And so the dark tale unfolds,....
I needed a haircut, I'd let it grow and it had grown too much, I had to put a stop to it.
Finding a cabeleireiro, was hard, pronouncing it was harder. I spent about 2 hours looking for one, and 2 weeks trying to say the damn word. I sound like a boxer who has broken his jaw trying to say something after drinking one to many,... it's attractive.
So i get directed to one, plodding on in the burning sun. I'm in a tee shirt, others are head to toe covered, I keep forgetting, its 'winter'. I arrive into what can only be described as a, well, my feeble mind can't think of a good description, apart from the fact that it was dingy, dark and looked like it was out of a weird 1970's detective film. The hair cuts, to my shock, matched. No one wanted razors, so they new I was um estrangeiro. Pity, tho i'd much prefer coming out with pride than looking like a 1970s porno reject, sorry detective film reject. Same thing. Back to the story,
I'm sitting there thinking how I can explain it, wishing I'd revised, (or rather learnt) some haircut vocab. My turn in the chair. The dude takes a phone call. Mighty professional there detective Joao Silva. Anyway, a few chuckles later and the spotlights on the dumb dude. I just say um pouco acqui, pouco aqui, and motion the length. I say for him to use, and point to the clippers.
This is when the detective morphs into a superhuman, or rather ageing odd looking. EDUARDO scissorhands. 5 motions of the scissors, with only one chop, his accuracy is shocking (note:bad)
and I'm now sitting in my chair practically saying my prays outloud, who gives a, they wouldn't undestand jake, jack i mean, anyway. So... I try and think of something to say but my limited skills can't be used. I wish I could say something, anything to calm the manic pace at which Eduardo is chopping.
Finale. Good. I'm alive. No. Funk. What's he doing. He goes to get a cut throat razor and motions over my neck, cutting fine hairs around my ears and back of the neck, this actually hurts. Someone get some help; Englishman in pain. 10 euros later and he cut my forehead(aggrevating a lovely spot) and made my hairline as a red as an embarrassed Englishman walking down the road with blood and hair mixed up on his face, sweating buckets in the middle of winter.
Well. Eduardo, despite his lack of the knack for his 'trade', is probably getting rich from his 5 minute quick wrist action, 'get him' haircuts. Another haircut done and dusted. As you can tell from my tone, I'll be seeing Eduardo again, possibly in hell.
I needed a haircut, I'd let it grow and it had grown too much, I had to put a stop to it.
Finding a cabeleireiro, was hard, pronouncing it was harder. I spent about 2 hours looking for one, and 2 weeks trying to say the damn word. I sound like a boxer who has broken his jaw trying to say something after drinking one to many,... it's attractive.
So i get directed to one, plodding on in the burning sun. I'm in a tee shirt, others are head to toe covered, I keep forgetting, its 'winter'. I arrive into what can only be described as a, well, my feeble mind can't think of a good description, apart from the fact that it was dingy, dark and looked like it was out of a weird 1970's detective film. The hair cuts, to my shock, matched. No one wanted razors, so they new I was um estrangeiro. Pity, tho i'd much prefer coming out with pride than looking like a 1970s porno reject, sorry detective film reject. Same thing. Back to the story,
I'm sitting there thinking how I can explain it, wishing I'd revised, (or rather learnt) some haircut vocab. My turn in the chair. The dude takes a phone call. Mighty professional there detective Joao Silva. Anyway, a few chuckles later and the spotlights on the dumb dude. I just say um pouco acqui, pouco aqui, and motion the length. I say for him to use, and point to the clippers.
This is when the detective morphs into a superhuman, or rather ageing odd looking. EDUARDO scissorhands. 5 motions of the scissors, with only one chop, his accuracy is shocking (note:bad)
and I'm now sitting in my chair practically saying my prays outloud, who gives a, they wouldn't undestand jake, jack i mean, anyway. So... I try and think of something to say but my limited skills can't be used. I wish I could say something, anything to calm the manic pace at which Eduardo is chopping.
Finale. Good. I'm alive. No. Funk. What's he doing. He goes to get a cut throat razor and motions over my neck, cutting fine hairs around my ears and back of the neck, this actually hurts. Someone get some help; Englishman in pain. 10 euros later and he cut my forehead(aggrevating a lovely spot) and made my hairline as a red as an embarrassed Englishman walking down the road with blood and hair mixed up on his face, sweating buckets in the middle of winter.
Well. Eduardo, despite his lack of the knack for his 'trade', is probably getting rich from his 5 minute quick wrist action, 'get him' haircuts. Another haircut done and dusted. As you can tell from my tone, I'll be seeing Eduardo again, possibly in hell.
The call was answered, by someone else
The call was answered, by someone else
So it was answered. After nights awake thinking about how i could do it, refurbish, rent etc nothing came to fruition as the day my people were to look at it, it sold! This wasn't my soul I'm talking abot, just in case you got confused, it was the under priced gem of a repossessed property on the edge of Bournville, my old stomping ground.
Dreams of property empires have been put on the backburner. Damn right, need a new mp3 player anyway,...... (inadvertently helps to keep the Portuguese economy alive),...........
So it was answered. After nights awake thinking about how i could do it, refurbish, rent etc nothing came to fruition as the day my people were to look at it, it sold! This wasn't my soul I'm talking abot, just in case you got confused, it was the under priced gem of a repossessed property on the edge of Bournville, my old stomping ground.
Dreams of property empires have been put on the backburner. Damn right, need a new mp3 player anyway,...... (inadvertently helps to keep the Portuguese economy alive),...........
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
call of the repossessed
Call of the repossessed
When I was at university, demoralized from projections of rejection when applying for jobs (turned out to be right, how far can one get with a dub standard film degree?) I thought to myself that I needed to find other ways of making some coins,..
I was a bit down, I had plenty of time so started frequenting the living room and watching the golden box. On this golden box, back in 2004ish were plenty of shows about property. This started something in me. I was seeing before my very eyes punks without two brain cells between them making moolah from buying and selling property. That's not too say it's easy, certainly the last 5 years(well 2002ish to 2006/7) any schmuck has been able to turn a profit with the rising tide in prices, not now though. The tide has turned and boats are getting sunk, big time.
So I when I was at uni, I bought a few books on the matter. Delved into them with a fervor that should've been equaled with desire to do well at my degree course........ anywho,..... Realised that this property game was for any schmo, but that schmo needed money, and lots of it. To the eager student, with no cash, a 10k deposit seems to be unsurmountable.
I wanted to get work, earning a decent wage once I'd graduated. Unfortunately the receipts in life (things we add up and inscribe on god awful cvs )meant that my grade (my receipt for the astronomical debt I'd accumulated) was not sufficient for the gleaming, golden graduate scheme. Hmmm.... hard nut to crack.
TEFL! I had developed an interest in languages through teaching some Japanese friends breakdancing, leanrt a bit and thought it a good idea to go bumming around the world for a bit. Fast forward to now and I'm in Portugal, bored at 2am looking online randomly at house prices. I see a very cheap house. 3 beds, 65k. Excited at high yields and everything greedy, I can't sleep (how bad is that?).
This property, it turns out, is in dire state, and has been repossessed, hence the rock bottom price. The ill effects of the harshness of the market system mean that repossessions are possible, unfortunately, and let schmos with no money onto the highly inflated (due to other schmos with money) property market,
Traveling, learning languages, generally larking about in the sun, bboying etc, is what I like doing. I always thought this impossible with the other dream of financial freedom, working for one self and being truly free from all the b/s that dependency on employed work brings. I'm not a big fan of feeling powerless, renting makes me feel like that. Dependency on a job also makes me feel that way. There's always things I know I could do better, and being a schmo at the bottom of the pecking order means I have to ask for permission to do grand magnificent acts like photocopying. Graduate skills shining here.
So. For the chastened poor, repossessed property is the way to go. Cheap, a project (freedom ) and the possibility of financial freedom, clout and a bit of pride at the end of the tunnel. Maybe this house won't work for me, no big deal. I'm patient, well, if forced to be! I'll wait on the sideline, though the call of the repossessed is pretty compelling!
When I was at university, demoralized from projections of rejection when applying for jobs (turned out to be right, how far can one get with a dub standard film degree?) I thought to myself that I needed to find other ways of making some coins,..
I was a bit down, I had plenty of time so started frequenting the living room and watching the golden box. On this golden box, back in 2004ish were plenty of shows about property. This started something in me. I was seeing before my very eyes punks without two brain cells between them making moolah from buying and selling property. That's not too say it's easy, certainly the last 5 years(well 2002ish to 2006/7) any schmuck has been able to turn a profit with the rising tide in prices, not now though. The tide has turned and boats are getting sunk, big time.
So I when I was at uni, I bought a few books on the matter. Delved into them with a fervor that should've been equaled with desire to do well at my degree course........ anywho,..... Realised that this property game was for any schmo, but that schmo needed money, and lots of it. To the eager student, with no cash, a 10k deposit seems to be unsurmountable.
I wanted to get work, earning a decent wage once I'd graduated. Unfortunately the receipts in life (things we add up and inscribe on god awful cvs )meant that my grade (my receipt for the astronomical debt I'd accumulated) was not sufficient for the gleaming, golden graduate scheme. Hmmm.... hard nut to crack.
TEFL! I had developed an interest in languages through teaching some Japanese friends breakdancing, leanrt a bit and thought it a good idea to go bumming around the world for a bit. Fast forward to now and I'm in Portugal, bored at 2am looking online randomly at house prices. I see a very cheap house. 3 beds, 65k. Excited at high yields and everything greedy, I can't sleep (how bad is that?).
This property, it turns out, is in dire state, and has been repossessed, hence the rock bottom price. The ill effects of the harshness of the market system mean that repossessions are possible, unfortunately, and let schmos with no money onto the highly inflated (due to other schmos with money) property market,
Traveling, learning languages, generally larking about in the sun, bboying etc, is what I like doing. I always thought this impossible with the other dream of financial freedom, working for one self and being truly free from all the b/s that dependency on employed work brings. I'm not a big fan of feeling powerless, renting makes me feel like that. Dependency on a job also makes me feel that way. There's always things I know I could do better, and being a schmo at the bottom of the pecking order means I have to ask for permission to do grand magnificent acts like photocopying. Graduate skills shining here.
So. For the chastened poor, repossessed property is the way to go. Cheap, a project (freedom ) and the possibility of financial freedom, clout and a bit of pride at the end of the tunnel. Maybe this house won't work for me, no big deal. I'm patient, well, if forced to be! I'll wait on the sideline, though the call of the repossessed is pretty compelling!
Sunday, 2 November 2008
a good day
A good day
Today I was a bit worried as my monthly bus, tram and metro card ran out and a) i didn't know where to renew it on a Saturday b) I didn't want mammoth 5 hour queues like last time c) couldn;'t really be bothered to find the energy to find out what to do.
In the morning the sun was shining. Unfortunately I got up at the slap my wrist hour of 12, midday. With my daily schedule changing everyday, and days off midweek, plus good tv on in the evenings, I find it hard to get up before 11, which I'm told is normal here (if you are an English teacher and don't get home till 11 or midnight everyday).
So, basketball. We couldn't play yesterday as the clouds above looked angry. We went out, but it rained so we came back. Oddly the rain lasted for a whole 20 mins to leave the sky clear and sunny for the rest of the day. I swear that kind of sky in England would cause at least a days rain. I'm still learning things about here.
So we played basketball at our local courts. Then, we came home. I ate some of my spectacular soup (tad biased) and chilled out for a bit. I opened my window/door and sat on the window ledge overlooking Lisbon whilst bathing/reading (John Grisham's 'A Firma' Portguese version)in the sun. Part of the package that allured me to Lisbon was their mellow half-arsed winters (hopes he doesn't tempt fate).
Next we went shopping (new place I've never been to), always fun. Managed to buy the elusive travel card at the local newsagent! Easier than hating my boss, bonus! Then, picked up a watch for the wholesome price of 10E and went on the thrice weekly food shop.
Home. Pull ups, food and some Portuguese chatter. Doesn't sound like much, but for me, today was a good day.
Today I was a bit worried as my monthly bus, tram and metro card ran out and a) i didn't know where to renew it on a Saturday b) I didn't want mammoth 5 hour queues like last time c) couldn;'t really be bothered to find the energy to find out what to do.
In the morning the sun was shining. Unfortunately I got up at the slap my wrist hour of 12, midday. With my daily schedule changing everyday, and days off midweek, plus good tv on in the evenings, I find it hard to get up before 11, which I'm told is normal here (if you are an English teacher and don't get home till 11 or midnight everyday).
So, basketball. We couldn't play yesterday as the clouds above looked angry. We went out, but it rained so we came back. Oddly the rain lasted for a whole 20 mins to leave the sky clear and sunny for the rest of the day. I swear that kind of sky in England would cause at least a days rain. I'm still learning things about here.
So we played basketball at our local courts. Then, we came home. I ate some of my spectacular soup (tad biased) and chilled out for a bit. I opened my window/door and sat on the window ledge overlooking Lisbon whilst bathing/reading (John Grisham's 'A Firma' Portguese version)in the sun. Part of the package that allured me to Lisbon was their mellow half-arsed winters (hopes he doesn't tempt fate).
Next we went shopping (new place I've never been to), always fun. Managed to buy the elusive travel card at the local newsagent! Easier than hating my boss, bonus! Then, picked up a watch for the wholesome price of 10E and went on the thrice weekly food shop.
Home. Pull ups, food and some Portuguese chatter. Doesn't sound like much, but for me, today was a good day.
Saturday, 1 November 2008
Trouble in Paradise
Trouble in Paradise
Paradise being where I'm living, trouble being where I'm at. Work is piling on the pressure. Saturday observation. Sunday break. Monday work. Tuesday observation, by dickhead dave. Wednesday day off. Thursday observation by delta, higher qualified, teacher (in training).
An observation is a bit like a test for teachers where every task, explanation, behavioural trait, joke, even body language is judged and duly scrutinised. It's about as fun as being unarmed on the front line with a 10ft sign saying shoot me. For those not liking that imagery it's similar to a test for teachers, though it's normally one per month, not three in a week, or five in two, for yours truly.
The effect on this has meant my nerves have gone slightly. Over the past few days and weeks I have had problems sleeping, hands sweaty and dreaming of teaching. A tefl bums' nightmare.
Writing this it's actually been a few days since the pressure and things have slightly improved, but as Monday showed, there may be more n store. (Meticulous)Preparation, as they say, is key. Though paradise is not usually synonymous with hard work.
Paradise being where I'm living, trouble being where I'm at. Work is piling on the pressure. Saturday observation. Sunday break. Monday work. Tuesday observation, by dickhead dave. Wednesday day off. Thursday observation by delta, higher qualified, teacher (in training).
An observation is a bit like a test for teachers where every task, explanation, behavioural trait, joke, even body language is judged and duly scrutinised. It's about as fun as being unarmed on the front line with a 10ft sign saying shoot me. For those not liking that imagery it's similar to a test for teachers, though it's normally one per month, not three in a week, or five in two, for yours truly.
The effect on this has meant my nerves have gone slightly. Over the past few days and weeks I have had problems sleeping, hands sweaty and dreaming of teaching. A tefl bums' nightmare.
Writing this it's actually been a few days since the pressure and things have slightly improved, but as Monday showed, there may be more n store. (Meticulous)Preparation, as they say, is key. Though paradise is not usually synonymous with hard work.
Thursday, 30 October 2008
the helpful landlord
The helpful landlord
I've never heard of it before. It doesn't ever happen, at least not to me. A helpful landlord. Almost like an oxymoron, the words do not go together. They do in Carlos' case.
In my recent experience, that of the past 6 years, landlords tend to be after money, anything to get their greasy hands on the deposits of their renters. In my case I've never had a full deposit back, even when the equipment broke in the house and it was blamed on the inhabitants (despite pre war microwaves).
In Portugal you pay for 3 months, that's the deposit. In my case I paid nothing. In fact I'm 4 weeks in and I still haven't paid anything. Further to this the rent is cheap. About 100 euros cheaper than other peoples' rent. What else? Free cable tv, free internet, no bills, double bed, massive room, s'pretty good deal by my standards.
I thought it bizarre that he'd pick me up from the hotel, with all my stuff and drive me to the house. That was day one, the first exhibit of his kindness. Then he toured me round the area, showing me bus routes to work and town. It's understandable that he was kind then, I was still a prospective money maker. Though read on dear reader,..
Since then we have had an insect problem, the shower had an issue and our grill was playing up, that was mid week. He came and stayed for 7 hours on Saturday, without me really noticing, and fixed everything. The house isn't perfect, but he fixes things when they need fixing.
This week I wanted to buy a punchbag, I did, but couldn't manage it on public transport.
Voila!Carlos to the rescue...
Some mention that the reason for his kindness has different routes. Who would do this sort of thing? They say he's lonely, has no friends, no wife, nothing. I don't know about that. In fact I don't care too much. So far he's been cool with me, and when my job isn't cracking up to be all that it said on the tin a helpful landlord, that will go out of his way for all of us, goes a long way.
I've never heard of it before. It doesn't ever happen, at least not to me. A helpful landlord. Almost like an oxymoron, the words do not go together. They do in Carlos' case.
In my recent experience, that of the past 6 years, landlords tend to be after money, anything to get their greasy hands on the deposits of their renters. In my case I've never had a full deposit back, even when the equipment broke in the house and it was blamed on the inhabitants (despite pre war microwaves).
In Portugal you pay for 3 months, that's the deposit. In my case I paid nothing. In fact I'm 4 weeks in and I still haven't paid anything. Further to this the rent is cheap. About 100 euros cheaper than other peoples' rent. What else? Free cable tv, free internet, no bills, double bed, massive room, s'pretty good deal by my standards.
I thought it bizarre that he'd pick me up from the hotel, with all my stuff and drive me to the house. That was day one, the first exhibit of his kindness. Then he toured me round the area, showing me bus routes to work and town. It's understandable that he was kind then, I was still a prospective money maker. Though read on dear reader,..
Since then we have had an insect problem, the shower had an issue and our grill was playing up, that was mid week. He came and stayed for 7 hours on Saturday, without me really noticing, and fixed everything. The house isn't perfect, but he fixes things when they need fixing.
This week I wanted to buy a punchbag, I did, but couldn't manage it on public transport.
Voila!Carlos to the rescue...
Some mention that the reason for his kindness has different routes. Who would do this sort of thing? They say he's lonely, has no friends, no wife, nothing. I don't know about that. In fact I don't care too much. So far he's been cool with me, and when my job isn't cracking up to be all that it said on the tin a helpful landlord, that will go out of his way for all of us, goes a long way.
Sunday, 26 October 2008
The ups and downs of living in ajuda
The ups and downs of living in ajuda
Meaning help or aid* in Portuguese, my neighborhood invokes love and pain in equal measure. With just as many hills as the rest of Lisbon I couldn't think of a better title than the one given.
The positives
Living here I am surrounded by Portuguese people that generally don't speak much English, something hard to find in Lisbon (and something I see as a positive). Living next to a 90 year old is something many would find annoying, but she speaks Portuguese and I find it cool to chat with her, despite about only 20% communiction, the rest goes over my head and heads into Belem.
The area has fantastic views, fresh air, no traffic, very little noise and I subsequently feel relaxed here, when I'm not stressing about work.
The area benefits from tram and bus and is calm and tranquil. It's amazing in the sun and at night. Added bonuses include (and if you frequent my blog often you may have seen the friendly chaps) local lizards that inhabit the nearby pavement walls. Saying hello to them every afternoon is not something to be sniffed at, it's really nice.And no, I'm not a travel agent.
The Portuguese banter on the local trams is also nice. Note to self, stop using the n word, nice. Must use other adjectives, says the English teacher. Anywho, it's good being here.
The downsides
After 10pm it can be quite annoying getting back to Ajuda. Getting lost was almost part of my daily routine in the first few weeks. Wrong bus. Right bus, wrong direction. Right bus, getting off at the wrong stop. Darkness plaguing the international bum trying hard to decipher which roundabout to get off at. That's another downer, fine in the day, but the tens of hundreds of roundabouts near Ajuda do make it hard to spot my stop at night. So yeh, it's been tailored down from a hefty 2 hour commute, post 10pm, to about an hour. Just about manageable.
Fidning shops aint easy, and there isn't as much choice as if I lived in the centre,...
THE CONCLUSION
Despite the downsides,... the sunsets, local people and lizards make it all worthwhile!!.....
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
update on the blood thirsty elementary students
I was told I may or may not be carrying on with this group. After them changing their minds, and enjoying the last lesson it is all up in the air. Why did I have to get the bi-polar group?
So my Monday and Friday nights are on the line, I may possibly get them back. If so, I won't see it as a personal failure as I was going by the book. I'll just hook up with some bboys, which is what I'm here to do!
So my Monday and Friday nights are on the line, I may possibly get them back. If so, I won't see it as a personal failure as I was going by the book. I'll just hook up with some bboys, which is what I'm here to do!
Gun wielding Elementary students, and I'm in the firing line (pun intended)
Gun wielding Elementary students, and I'm in the firing line (pun intended)
When I started I was told that I'd be teaching an Elementary group, which to the non TEFL world means beginner, but not an absolute beginner(someone who can string together a sentence, just about), I wasn't overjoyed, but I wasn't that bothered either.
On the awful training we were subjected to we were told many contradictory things, and as I've not had an ample amount of experience with this level I was most dreading it. To make matters that bit worse, the lessons would be all adults (more needy, impatient etc) and on Mondays 8-10pm and Fridays 8-10pm, blocking me training with the top bboy crew (who invited me),..fun fun fun.
The first class, according to the syllabus, I was told to go back to square one. In fact, the first few lessons are all revision, which I didn't realise wouldn't go down too well. They knew most of the material I'd prepared, and was told that what I'd prepared might last 2 classes, in fact it didn't even last one class! Also, something I didn't know is half the class was in a previous course so if I didn't win them over in the first few lessons,.... The method I was told to use was the direct method. Literally repeating and asking questions, for 50 mins. For example is this a red pen, Yes. Is this(choose a blue one) a red pen? Nooooo, it ISN't a red pen, it is a blue one. I guess you can imagine the fun. They were turning on me, without me realising,...
Another issue was prickly. I was told that the learners were to be spoken at normal speed. without changing tone, accent or anything. So, mid 4th lesson, I'm told, by the students, that they don't like my accent as it's 'not like the people on the cds'. Not what a teacher wants to hear.
Before my class today my boss had a word with me about these students and their complaints. Not only this, but went into my lesson, told me to leave and chatted with them about all the problems, possibly going into detail about how my looks weren't up to scratch 'why can't you employ Jonny depp to teach us' and other such useful comments. So, 20 mins into the class I'm ushered in with the motivational comments by the head of the school of
> They really don't like you, they want a change of teacher.. you'd better make it a fantastic lesson',
with those kind of words its highly surprising that my boss didn't win American football coach prep talker of the year! Her level of tact is on a par with John wayne's in all the old westerns. Well, I was told she wasn't a 'people person' (code for something else, methinks)
I finally enter the room like someone has just slapped me with a wet fish. The students, undeterred by my presence, wave a hand, signaling that my public humiliation is to carry on, full force. They eagerly continue, in their native tongue. For a brief moment I'm thinking, trying to be positive, hey I'm being paid, i've done nothing for the past 25 mins and they are still paying me.
I overhear, that one student doesn't understand when i speak, of 4 mins of their talking this is the only Portuguese I understand. A teacher isn't a person in this context, just a conduit for the learning/business process. So I'm sitting there, waiting, having followed the course and method by the book, by the f-ing book. My reward. Forget everything I was told on the orientation now it's time to do it my way.
So the lesson starts. This is it. A memory game. They like it. Though I am still subjected to a 10 min lecture by my boss on XYZ that translates to ' They are the customers' Break over, and no food or drink. BANG, back on stage. Next bit.
Inquiring about price, using a mill drill, basically they mill around asking questions. Doesn't sound fun, but the characters in the room come out of their metaphorical closets and produce acting genious worthy of a TEFL oscar. Building on the dialogue of
A How much is it?
B It costs XYZ amount
A Great, I'll buy it/ That's a bit expensive
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A (Bright spark TEFL oscar winning savour student insert) Can you lower the price?
This enivitably livens the class up a bit.
Last 20 mins are saved for a lovely neat introduction to the present continuous, What are you wearing, tying in neatly with the past theatrical performance we all took part in (yes, moi aussi).
Result- the once gun wielding students suddenly love me. They all struggle to say that it was the best lesson. God bless Reward (textbook/photocopiable gold for tefl teachers) making life in the tefl minefield easier, at least until the present activity ends,.... life on a knife edge, easy slip and get cut,.....well some of my friends do call me cutz!
When I started I was told that I'd be teaching an Elementary group, which to the non TEFL world means beginner, but not an absolute beginner(someone who can string together a sentence, just about), I wasn't overjoyed, but I wasn't that bothered either.
On the awful training we were subjected to we were told many contradictory things, and as I've not had an ample amount of experience with this level I was most dreading it. To make matters that bit worse, the lessons would be all adults (more needy, impatient etc) and on Mondays 8-10pm and Fridays 8-10pm, blocking me training with the top bboy crew (who invited me),..fun fun fun.
The first class, according to the syllabus, I was told to go back to square one. In fact, the first few lessons are all revision, which I didn't realise wouldn't go down too well. They knew most of the material I'd prepared, and was told that what I'd prepared might last 2 classes, in fact it didn't even last one class! Also, something I didn't know is half the class was in a previous course so if I didn't win them over in the first few lessons,.... The method I was told to use was the direct method. Literally repeating and asking questions, for 50 mins. For example is this a red pen, Yes. Is this(choose a blue one) a red pen? Nooooo, it ISN't a red pen, it is a blue one. I guess you can imagine the fun. They were turning on me, without me realising,...
Another issue was prickly. I was told that the learners were to be spoken at normal speed. without changing tone, accent or anything. So, mid 4th lesson, I'm told, by the students, that they don't like my accent as it's 'not like the people on the cds'. Not what a teacher wants to hear.
Before my class today my boss had a word with me about these students and their complaints. Not only this, but went into my lesson, told me to leave and chatted with them about all the problems, possibly going into detail about how my looks weren't up to scratch 'why can't you employ Jonny depp to teach us' and other such useful comments. So, 20 mins into the class I'm ushered in with the motivational comments by the head of the school of
> They really don't like you, they want a change of teacher.. you'd better make it a fantastic lesson',
with those kind of words its highly surprising that my boss didn't win American football coach prep talker of the year! Her level of tact is on a par with John wayne's in all the old westerns. Well, I was told she wasn't a 'people person' (code for something else, methinks)
I finally enter the room like someone has just slapped me with a wet fish. The students, undeterred by my presence, wave a hand, signaling that my public humiliation is to carry on, full force. They eagerly continue, in their native tongue. For a brief moment I'm thinking, trying to be positive, hey I'm being paid, i've done nothing for the past 25 mins and they are still paying me.
I overhear, that one student doesn't understand when i speak, of 4 mins of their talking this is the only Portuguese I understand. A teacher isn't a person in this context, just a conduit for the learning/business process. So I'm sitting there, waiting, having followed the course and method by the book, by the f-ing book. My reward. Forget everything I was told on the orientation now it's time to do it my way.
So the lesson starts. This is it. A memory game. They like it. Though I am still subjected to a 10 min lecture by my boss on XYZ that translates to ' They are the customers' Break over, and no food or drink. BANG, back on stage. Next bit.
Inquiring about price, using a mill drill, basically they mill around asking questions. Doesn't sound fun, but the characters in the room come out of their metaphorical closets and produce acting genious worthy of a TEFL oscar. Building on the dialogue of
A How much is it?
B It costs XYZ amount
A Great, I'll buy it/ That's a bit expensive
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A (Bright spark TEFL oscar winning savour student insert) Can you lower the price?
This enivitably livens the class up a bit.
Last 20 mins are saved for a lovely neat introduction to the present continuous, What are you wearing, tying in neatly with the past theatrical performance we all took part in (yes, moi aussi).
Result- the once gun wielding students suddenly love me. They all struggle to say that it was the best lesson. God bless Reward (textbook/photocopiable gold for tefl teachers) making life in the tefl minefield easier, at least until the present activity ends,.... life on a knife edge, easy slip and get cut,.....well some of my friends do call me cutz!
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Local lizards- friendly wildlife on my afternoon commute
Walking to my bus stop everyday I hear rustling accompanied by fast feet, the spectacle of my local lizard friends. Not much to be said about them except they are damn cool.
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
Poor, for now at least
Poor, for now at least
I've made a few mistakes since getting here. Miscalculations, to be precise.
The situation is this. I knew I wouldn't get paid for a while, yet I choose not to work in the UK, picking the easier way of loafing at home before my brother's wedding, and subsequent responsibility of being the best man. I somehow rationalised it was a good idea not to work, as is fits in with my general disposition for real 'work'.
We got given a meal allowance a few days after we got here, which, in keeping company with other international bums, got wasted away within roughly 7 days (200 euros- you do the numbers!) Did mention about the bar that stayed open late?
Since then I've been chipping away at the last of the great British currency I have left in my UK bank account. Family bridging loans will keep me going for a short while,...
So,........... I get paid from my international bumming job at the end of October. Another few weeks to hang on in there.....
You may be thinking what the point of this entry is, besides using up some of my 'precious' time. Well, there is a point, I just go the looong way round, call me the Ewan Mcgregor of blogging. And a poor comedian... I should stick to international bumming!*
*sincerly hopes his employer or anyone connected isn't offended by the tefling= international bumming equation*
The whole point of this entry
So,.... back to the bumming *aka tefling. We were given a few lesson plans, to kick start us off, and in keeping with our general (when I talk of we, I'm talking about the other bums aka 'teachers' or as they insist on calling us here, 'professors of English'- nice.) titles of being bums, we are given everything on plate, albeit an overused, synthetic plate, a bit like given the students recycled food, expecting them to like it. Anyway, gets us more time in the sun,.....
On the serious side, if there ever was one, in one of these gems of a lesson plan it directs the Professor (who can be accused of mis-interpreting a language for my own gain? Me? Never....) to introduce the topic of the family. I do, dutifully. Then, students talk about the changes in the family they have seen over the past generation, very useful when talking to 14 year olds, as I'm sure you can imagine.... anyway, I run with it.... Then I'm told to get back in the damn class.
The students, almost unanimously talk about the seriousness of the economy. I must have been out of the classroom a LONG time. There is a very tenuous link. They suggest that the economy has declined (over the last 25 years? HMM note to self- research country before encountering the natives) and this has caused couples to only have one child. This gets me interested,...
I ask in what way has their economy declined. It transpires that the students compare themselves to their Spanish, French and German counterparts, who earn more than them. They emphasize this. Somewhat surprised I ask them what the average wage is, of the average worker. They tell me minimum wage is roughly E400. Funking Bell! That's why, they tell me, some Portuguese are moving abroad, to earn more money. I tell them that I love their country for many reasons, to counterbalance their negativity. I'm countered with the undeniable truth that they've lived here for 14/15/16 years and I've been here 2 weeks. Good point.
Over the past few weeks I've walked around the shops a bit and noticed products are noticeably cheaper here, with my purchasing power being much greater than the UK. I'll be earning roughly 3 times their minimum wage. So, despite being poor now, in relation to the minimum wage workers my wage is more like a dream.
This is reasonably common in the Tefl world. However, it doesn't stop me from feeling pretty bad about the whole thing. Especially when I know many of the students would learn more if they quit the school and just bought a few grammar books and spent 2 weeks in the UK, maybe hiring a tutor to fine tune everything. Job done. Inevitably, that's not what they want to do. Some students stay at the school 6,7 or sometimes as long as 10 years, with a vague, plodding along kind of improvement.
The conclusion?
I'm paid well, but there's more responsibility than I thought there would be. I came here for the lifestyle, not the money. If I wanted money I'd become a liar. Lawyer, lawyer, sorry. I'm not ready to give up on life, so we'll see how this Lisbon thing goes..... that said the sunny always smiles here, so I'll try my best to, whether I feel poor or rich,............
I've made a few mistakes since getting here. Miscalculations, to be precise.
The situation is this. I knew I wouldn't get paid for a while, yet I choose not to work in the UK, picking the easier way of loafing at home before my brother's wedding, and subsequent responsibility of being the best man. I somehow rationalised it was a good idea not to work, as is fits in with my general disposition for real 'work'.
We got given a meal allowance a few days after we got here, which, in keeping company with other international bums, got wasted away within roughly 7 days (200 euros- you do the numbers!) Did mention about the bar that stayed open late?
Since then I've been chipping away at the last of the great British currency I have left in my UK bank account. Family bridging loans will keep me going for a short while,...
So,........... I get paid from my international bumming job at the end of October. Another few weeks to hang on in there.....
You may be thinking what the point of this entry is, besides using up some of my 'precious' time. Well, there is a point, I just go the looong way round, call me the Ewan Mcgregor of blogging. And a poor comedian... I should stick to international bumming!*
*sincerly hopes his employer or anyone connected isn't offended by the tefling= international bumming equation*
The whole point of this entry
So,.... back to the bumming *aka tefling. We were given a few lesson plans, to kick start us off, and in keeping with our general (when I talk of we, I'm talking about the other bums aka 'teachers' or as they insist on calling us here, 'professors of English'- nice.) titles of being bums, we are given everything on plate, albeit an overused, synthetic plate, a bit like given the students recycled food, expecting them to like it. Anyway, gets us more time in the sun,.....
On the serious side, if there ever was one, in one of these gems of a lesson plan it directs the Professor (who can be accused of mis-interpreting a language for my own gain? Me? Never....) to introduce the topic of the family. I do, dutifully. Then, students talk about the changes in the family they have seen over the past generation, very useful when talking to 14 year olds, as I'm sure you can imagine.... anyway, I run with it.... Then I'm told to get back in the damn class.
The students, almost unanimously talk about the seriousness of the economy. I must have been out of the classroom a LONG time. There is a very tenuous link. They suggest that the economy has declined (over the last 25 years? HMM note to self- research country before encountering the natives) and this has caused couples to only have one child. This gets me interested,...
I ask in what way has their economy declined. It transpires that the students compare themselves to their Spanish, French and German counterparts, who earn more than them. They emphasize this. Somewhat surprised I ask them what the average wage is, of the average worker. They tell me minimum wage is roughly E400. Funking Bell! That's why, they tell me, some Portuguese are moving abroad, to earn more money. I tell them that I love their country for many reasons, to counterbalance their negativity. I'm countered with the undeniable truth that they've lived here for 14/15/16 years and I've been here 2 weeks. Good point.
Over the past few weeks I've walked around the shops a bit and noticed products are noticeably cheaper here, with my purchasing power being much greater than the UK. I'll be earning roughly 3 times their minimum wage. So, despite being poor now, in relation to the minimum wage workers my wage is more like a dream.
This is reasonably common in the Tefl world. However, it doesn't stop me from feeling pretty bad about the whole thing. Especially when I know many of the students would learn more if they quit the school and just bought a few grammar books and spent 2 weeks in the UK, maybe hiring a tutor to fine tune everything. Job done. Inevitably, that's not what they want to do. Some students stay at the school 6,7 or sometimes as long as 10 years, with a vague, plodding along kind of improvement.
The conclusion?
I'm paid well, but there's more responsibility than I thought there would be. I came here for the lifestyle, not the money. If I wanted money I'd become a liar. Lawyer, lawyer, sorry. I'm not ready to give up on life, so we'll see how this Lisbon thing goes..... that said the sunny always smiles here, so I'll try my best to, whether I feel poor or rich,............
A place where the weather is predictable
A place where the weather is predictable
When I first arrived I packed an umbrella everyday, anticipating the rain as if it would come at any second. Even when the BBC said it would rain, alas, I never did.
How does it stay that way?
When I was staying at the hotel, in central Lisbon, me and G went for a midnight cheeseburger, as you do. When walking up the path G got soaked by something that poked its head out of the ground, a sneaky sprinkler. Hah! So he learnt the hard way how Lisbon remains a lush green...
So, for the first ten days it rained once, while we were sleeping.
I've been since 21st Sept, and its rained properly once. After a few hours though, it was sunny. Normality restored.
I wrote this a few days ago and an update on the weather today it was...
12 midday- 20C
4 in the afternoon- 26C
9 at night- 20C
Midnight- 19C
By the way, the Portuguese call this their winter. Nice.
When I first arrived I packed an umbrella everyday, anticipating the rain as if it would come at any second. Even when the BBC said it would rain, alas, I never did.
How does it stay that way?
When I was staying at the hotel, in central Lisbon, me and G went for a midnight cheeseburger, as you do. When walking up the path G got soaked by something that poked its head out of the ground, a sneaky sprinkler. Hah! So he learnt the hard way how Lisbon remains a lush green...
So, for the first ten days it rained once, while we were sleeping.
I've been since 21st Sept, and its rained properly once. After a few hours though, it was sunny. Normality restored.
I wrote this a few days ago and an update on the weather today it was...
12 midday- 20C
4 in the afternoon- 26C
9 at night- 20C
Midnight- 19C
By the way, the Portuguese call this their winter. Nice.
Friday, 10 October 2008
Finding a flat
Finding a flat
This was probably the hardest thing I've done since getting here. Our school kindly gave us a list of about 15 flats, for 22 people. We were given about 5 hours per week and told good luck (more or less).
Gwilym was the obvious candidate to live with, though it transpired that we wanted different things. He wanted to live near the party centre and didn't care much about being near gyms etc and I preferred to be in tranquil/chilled out settings, near amenities. I was hearing stories from the other teachers that they had to put down massive deposits, some had to pay 3 months rent. Me and G were decided that we both wanted flexibility so decided not to take this option.
By the end of the week we were having no luck. It was the first time I had to use any language skills (or lack of). Negotiating in English is hard enough but in Portuguese it was near impossible. It turned out finding a flat for two boys, preferably with native Portuguese people our age was never going to be easy. With my lack of the local lingo it is akin to trying to find rain in Lisbon- possibly but unlikely.
I'd complied a list of the most attractive flats by location, price and general suitability in terms of a balance of both our requirements. At the same time I'd done one for myself, as I wanted to be prepared, just in case something didn't work out. All the flats weren't available. I called a few on my own list and got a viewing for the next day. Doubts started to creep in when I needed to start teaching at my new school on the Wednesday and still didn't have anywhere to live by the Saturday.
A friend had told me to join easyroomate, or the Portuguese equivalent, easyquarto.pt. A Godsend!I got an elegantly typed email from a man called Carlos re- a room in a shared house with students. I arranged the viewing for the same day as the other one.
The next day I was picked up by Carlos, a talkative Portuguese middle aged landlord. He was talking the whole way there about the bus stops, metro and all the things he felt I needed to know (and to be fair, he was right about 99% of it).
When he showed me the place I was amazed. The room was a double, with its own extra room! It had a double bed, Tv with cable and the net already!! I chatted to the housemates, who seemed fine and I was pretty sure that this was the place. On our way out the sun was setting and it felt like one of the property shows on channel 4- the view was/is amazing.
Carlos drove me another 15 mins to my next location. The next place wasn't too bad, but the housemate was never there and I didn't fancy living alone just yet. So I called Carlos to tell him I'd move in on Tuesday!
Voila!
G found a flat on his own, though unfortunately just heard there's no running water,.. updates will follow!
Initial impressions- the course and standing up for oneself
Initial impressions- the course and standing up for oneself
Stepping off the plane I had mixed feelings. It was hot in the UK, and the weather said it'd be raining when I got off the plane. I'd been chatting bad Portuguese with the lady next to me, which had been nice, but now I was here and couldn't take my eye off outside. It was sunny!!!!! Not only was it sunny, it was very hot,so hot I felt pretty stupid in my hottest, thickest trousers,... and it was nearly 5pm. There was a sign saying it was 26 degrees.
I'd asked to get a list of the teachers' emails to establish initial contact before our orientation started and this had blossomed into an email list. Since then, we'd all met up on the airport, somewhat nervously and chatted on the plane.
After being greeted off the plane we were driven to the hotel, paired off with people we were to share a room with and told to be ready to meet for dinner in 50 mins. I was paired with the first teacher I'd met at the airport, a guy called Gwylym. I got on with him well and was happy to be in a room, from the get go, with someone I liked- we weren't told that we had to share rooms...
Dinner was a lavish three course meal, with all the teachers spread along a long table down the middle of the restaurant. I had soup, salmon and fruit salad. Three hours of eating later I was getting seriously antsy, I wanted to walk about, explore, but had to wait.
Back at the hotel we went to the nearby bar. The bar looks at bit odd, more like a cafe, though it had drinkers there till past midnight and over the next 10 days we got special treatment and were frequently allowed to stay till past 1am. With warm evenings, especially the last 2 weeks in Sept (with evening temp of over 25!) most of the time we sat outside until midnight then inside until we were turfed out.
The bar sessions were great as the first 10 days were anxious for everyone. The orientation was more fear mongering, lecturing us, sometimes by teachers with less experience than their audience. These sessions were dull with a capital DUH. The teachers who were delivering the 'sessions' are the heads of the various schools, some were cocky, some were rude, some insulted us(one riduculed me in front of everyone- I fell silent and she profusely apologised- probably to fill the silence), some were boring, some were all of the above.
To put it into perspective that we were all homeless, staying in an expensive hotel and had to find housing for the next 9 months. We were also new to the city, and to top it off didn't know anyone, anything, or any Portuguese. The sun was shining all through the sessions, making them that more painful. Something had to be done. Oddly, at a few key moments in my life, there are times when I feel very agitated by a what I, and often others, feel to be unjust, unfair, annoying and unnecessary. Sometimes it's only be that's bold though (self righteousness is something I'm definitively not short of!)
Last time I remember this happening was when I went to New York, to work on camp America and there was an overgrown bully aged 22, throwing (literally) his weight around.. His age matched his appearance which equaled his attitude to life- he didn't care about his appearance (ugliest dude ever) like he didn't care for anyone, or anything. He routinely insulted peers, kids and even superiors- amazingly often to their face, to little reaction. Being in New York was shocking to a 19 year old, but this guy was something else.
Oddly, he never insulted me, I'm still not sure why(he was three times me size in both directions). Anyway, I tested the ground and for about three days, I let him do it to others. Then he insulted my room mate, who'd just come out of the army, where he'd shot down enemy war planes. No one had ever challenged the bully. He'd been at the top of this very small tree for a while. He'd never even been challenged. I have never wanted to kill anyone more than this guy, and I'm not a violent person. Nir, my Israeli friend, was the calmest, sweetest, friendliest guy there is. He'd been selected to come to New York for being the best soldiers, not just on a military level, he was what was considered a true representation of the best of what Israel had to offer.*
*There were a group of Israelis that had been picked to have time off from the IDF and Nir was one of the eldest in the group.
Now picture this. After finishing one of the days orientation (why do this bullshit always happen on orientation) the leaders in our group are gathered around chatting about the day. I don't know which god was smiling on me to get me lumped with Kartman(just to preserve his true identity), but it happened. So, I walk over and he's slagging off everyone. Then, Nir. I look at the others, some of whom have known Kartman for years. No one says or does anything. I do. Damn right I do.
Kartman says Nir hasn't do anything manly (not realising he's just come out of war). I proceed to ask Kartman what HE has done. Silence kills the loudest bullies. He shrinks. I'm so ready at this point. The others get twitchy. Turns out Kartman is all mouth and I'm ushered out. One of Kartman's friends says how amazed he is that I'd stood up to him and how he'd wished he'd done it.
I am not a angry or violent person. But I am opinionated and have a strong sense of what is right and wrong. The orientation here in lisbon was carried out by the heads of the schools, some of whom are well experienced, some of whom are not. By the end of week one everyone was complaining, at the bar, about the patronising and dull nature of the course. Some of it was ridiculous.
A big thing in the TEFL world is encouraging students to learn actively and to cut down on the TTT (teacher talking time). We all knew this. We are qualified and experienced teachers ourselves. Yet, the organisers of the orientation failed to realise the irony of lecturing us on good teaching habits, talking at us for 90 mins flat about things we already know (and reading from a damn sheet!). Again it is a bit hard to articulate the grind of 9-6 sessions of patronizing lectures. It was SO bad.
By the end of the Friday I had to tell someone. I asked the others if anyone had felt the same as me. The previous few days I'd heard a lot of people, if not all, say how bad the sessions were and how they just wanted to sort out housing/bank accounts/travel passes etc But no one wanted to report anything back to the management. They made excuses, looked edgy, skipping around the issue.
It had been similar with Kartman. I'd asked his friends if he was just excited or if he was always such an arsehole. They said he was just like that and I would have to get used to it, everyone just accepted it. The same with most of the other teachers, they told me that it was normal, that it would damage my reputation, wasn't worth it etc etc. Stress built up is not a good thing, so I did what I thought was right. I went to speak to the head of all of the schools in the whole of Portugal. I went with a list.
The guy, Jeffrey, was very receptive. He was surprised but understanding and said that they had been thinking of changing the course but had not bothered and it hadn't been changed for some time. Afterwards I felt like I had confronted the school bully as the other teachers were dying to know if I'd been successful at making a challenge. I said that I needed to pack up my things and that my complaining was not 'the cambridge way'. I said I was upset at being fired but that was how it was. They had a major look of sympathy in their eyes.
Some really did believe me,....
A few weeks in, like with Kartman, despite worrying slightly about repercussions, nothing detrimental has happened to me and in both cases people treat/treated me with a tad more respect.
ps. sorry for the digression!
Stepping off the plane I had mixed feelings. It was hot in the UK, and the weather said it'd be raining when I got off the plane. I'd been chatting bad Portuguese with the lady next to me, which had been nice, but now I was here and couldn't take my eye off outside. It was sunny!!!!! Not only was it sunny, it was very hot,so hot I felt pretty stupid in my hottest, thickest trousers,... and it was nearly 5pm. There was a sign saying it was 26 degrees.
I'd asked to get a list of the teachers' emails to establish initial contact before our orientation started and this had blossomed into an email list. Since then, we'd all met up on the airport, somewhat nervously and chatted on the plane.
After being greeted off the plane we were driven to the hotel, paired off with people we were to share a room with and told to be ready to meet for dinner in 50 mins. I was paired with the first teacher I'd met at the airport, a guy called Gwylym. I got on with him well and was happy to be in a room, from the get go, with someone I liked- we weren't told that we had to share rooms...
Dinner was a lavish three course meal, with all the teachers spread along a long table down the middle of the restaurant. I had soup, salmon and fruit salad. Three hours of eating later I was getting seriously antsy, I wanted to walk about, explore, but had to wait.
Back at the hotel we went to the nearby bar. The bar looks at bit odd, more like a cafe, though it had drinkers there till past midnight and over the next 10 days we got special treatment and were frequently allowed to stay till past 1am. With warm evenings, especially the last 2 weeks in Sept (with evening temp of over 25!) most of the time we sat outside until midnight then inside until we were turfed out.
The bar sessions were great as the first 10 days were anxious for everyone. The orientation was more fear mongering, lecturing us, sometimes by teachers with less experience than their audience. These sessions were dull with a capital DUH. The teachers who were delivering the 'sessions' are the heads of the various schools, some were cocky, some were rude, some insulted us(one riduculed me in front of everyone- I fell silent and she profusely apologised- probably to fill the silence), some were boring, some were all of the above.
To put it into perspective that we were all homeless, staying in an expensive hotel and had to find housing for the next 9 months. We were also new to the city, and to top it off didn't know anyone, anything, or any Portuguese. The sun was shining all through the sessions, making them that more painful. Something had to be done. Oddly, at a few key moments in my life, there are times when I feel very agitated by a what I, and often others, feel to be unjust, unfair, annoying and unnecessary. Sometimes it's only be that's bold though (self righteousness is something I'm definitively not short of!)
Last time I remember this happening was when I went to New York, to work on camp America and there was an overgrown bully aged 22, throwing (literally) his weight around.. His age matched his appearance which equaled his attitude to life- he didn't care about his appearance (ugliest dude ever) like he didn't care for anyone, or anything. He routinely insulted peers, kids and even superiors- amazingly often to their face, to little reaction. Being in New York was shocking to a 19 year old, but this guy was something else.
Oddly, he never insulted me, I'm still not sure why(he was three times me size in both directions). Anyway, I tested the ground and for about three days, I let him do it to others. Then he insulted my room mate, who'd just come out of the army, where he'd shot down enemy war planes. No one had ever challenged the bully. He'd been at the top of this very small tree for a while. He'd never even been challenged. I have never wanted to kill anyone more than this guy, and I'm not a violent person. Nir, my Israeli friend, was the calmest, sweetest, friendliest guy there is. He'd been selected to come to New York for being the best soldiers, not just on a military level, he was what was considered a true representation of the best of what Israel had to offer.*
*There were a group of Israelis that had been picked to have time off from the IDF and Nir was one of the eldest in the group.
Now picture this. After finishing one of the days orientation (why do this bullshit always happen on orientation) the leaders in our group are gathered around chatting about the day. I don't know which god was smiling on me to get me lumped with Kartman(just to preserve his true identity), but it happened. So, I walk over and he's slagging off everyone. Then, Nir. I look at the others, some of whom have known Kartman for years. No one says or does anything. I do. Damn right I do.
Kartman says Nir hasn't do anything manly (not realising he's just come out of war). I proceed to ask Kartman what HE has done. Silence kills the loudest bullies. He shrinks. I'm so ready at this point. The others get twitchy. Turns out Kartman is all mouth and I'm ushered out. One of Kartman's friends says how amazed he is that I'd stood up to him and how he'd wished he'd done it.
I am not a angry or violent person. But I am opinionated and have a strong sense of what is right and wrong. The orientation here in lisbon was carried out by the heads of the schools, some of whom are well experienced, some of whom are not. By the end of week one everyone was complaining, at the bar, about the patronising and dull nature of the course. Some of it was ridiculous.
A big thing in the TEFL world is encouraging students to learn actively and to cut down on the TTT (teacher talking time). We all knew this. We are qualified and experienced teachers ourselves. Yet, the organisers of the orientation failed to realise the irony of lecturing us on good teaching habits, talking at us for 90 mins flat about things we already know (and reading from a damn sheet!). Again it is a bit hard to articulate the grind of 9-6 sessions of patronizing lectures. It was SO bad.
By the end of the Friday I had to tell someone. I asked the others if anyone had felt the same as me. The previous few days I'd heard a lot of people, if not all, say how bad the sessions were and how they just wanted to sort out housing/bank accounts/travel passes etc But no one wanted to report anything back to the management. They made excuses, looked edgy, skipping around the issue.
It had been similar with Kartman. I'd asked his friends if he was just excited or if he was always such an arsehole. They said he was just like that and I would have to get used to it, everyone just accepted it. The same with most of the other teachers, they told me that it was normal, that it would damage my reputation, wasn't worth it etc etc. Stress built up is not a good thing, so I did what I thought was right. I went to speak to the head of all of the schools in the whole of Portugal. I went with a list.
The guy, Jeffrey, was very receptive. He was surprised but understanding and said that they had been thinking of changing the course but had not bothered and it hadn't been changed for some time. Afterwards I felt like I had confronted the school bully as the other teachers were dying to know if I'd been successful at making a challenge. I said that I needed to pack up my things and that my complaining was not 'the cambridge way'. I said I was upset at being fired but that was how it was. They had a major look of sympathy in their eyes.
Some really did believe me,....
A few weeks in, like with Kartman, despite worrying slightly about repercussions, nothing detrimental has happened to me and in both cases people treat/treated me with a tad more respect.
ps. sorry for the digression!
Sunday, 5 October 2008
The first post!!
So..., welcome! This is my new blog for my random ramblings about my life, my teaching experiences, bboying, the weather and the general ups and downs of life in Lisbon, Portugal.
Hopefully it will be well received!
Adeus for now,...
Hopefully it will be well received!
Adeus for now,...
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