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' criticism from 'senior' teachers analyzing everything that happened in these 'lessons' - so much fun, I can tell you.)

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.

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.

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,............