Its nearly February, in two weeks we have the exam mocks, for my exam classes. Then there is feedback, then there is Carnival. After Carnival it will be late Feb when my brother will be here. Then it'll be March, when my mother is coming. After, the weather will be good, one hopes.
Then, it will be April and at the end of April my gorgeous girlfriend is coming here. Then it will be Msy, and the start of the exam period. By that time there will only be weeks left of the job.
All this thinking means I have stumbled upon questions of the future, my own petty future.
A good telf blog I occasionally read, called ' The tefl graveyard' inspired these current thoughts. In a recent article the author wrote about two types of people, Spanners and Planners. He is a spanner.
Spanners find problems, and more problems, and more problem, in everything they do or want to do. They tend to criticize and be generally negative. These type of people. according to the tefl graveyard, are more likely to stay in jobs they dislike. The author's blog is an entertaining rant against the tefl world. He has been in it for 15 years. He is a spanner through and through.
This got me to thinking of my future. I am no spanner. I think ahead, plan and make changes, on the most part, a reality. That said, I have had my fair few ideas, or plans, not happen. (A famous scientist, I forget who, said its better to have 100 ideas and have one work than have no ideas at all- I am with him on that). In the current context, of tefl bumming around the world, I need to think of possible plans for post June.
I compiled a list of options, with some being more realistic and others just thoughts on paper. Though, thoughts on paper have a habit of becoming real if you want it enough.
So,.....
I like Portugal. However my current language lessons are taking the fun out of language learning. There is little spontaneity, it is regimented and I am stuck with Mrs I got money and no brains. Harsh, but true. Further to this my employer, the language giant, has reminded me of their ever generous offer of free language lessons, prodding me to be on time, everyday, despite Mrs slow's sluggish learning speeds. I msut be honest and say that this is not easy for me, the other student or the morning commute.
To better understand my point of view I will jot down my average week, over the past month.
Monday- up at 7 30(If I am lucky), classes from 9 till 11. Possibly lunch with a fellow language learner(not mrs French diplomat aka mrs slow), or home for about an hour, sometimes 90 mins. Then it is the bus, which often takes 45 mins, with the waiting time. 6-10 hours at school, hour back and I'm normally at home between 9 or 10 on early days and 11 or 12 on late days. Dinner and chilling and it is already close to midnight or one in the morning. No time for nada else.
Result? Mediocre achievements in language learning equipt with a healthy contempt for loaded perks (paying customers are never hassled- they are often jobless, partying or 'studying'- for 2 hours per day). Health isn't great. eating poorly. sleeping worse. Sleeping less than 8 hours is not a bad thing, though coupled with days where I am out from 12 to 15 hours it turns into one long week, or rather a somewhat daunghting week.
This leaves me with a monster predicament. Either quit the lessons and never progress at Portuguese, or carry on, have no life but bear the struggle in pursuit of better communicative ability (3 months in lessons and should be good enough).
There would be no contest if it was certain I would stay a second year. I would do the lessons. Though, with the monthly breakdown aforementioned 3 months from now will be close to the end of the 9 months and there is quite alot of things going on in those months. If I don't choose to stay, at this point I am even thinking why bother with 3 months of stress, hassle and sacrifice for no long term gain?
So then there are the other options.
I have applied for summer work in the states, keen to go back with the promise of an EFL camp expereience. No word back from them yet though. Bournemouth is another option for summer as I know I will get treated better, know more people, know where to dance, do gymnastics etc etc Birmingham is also another option. There are a few things going on there as well.
Europe has plenty of camps, and there are even tefly things in Asia.
The non Tefl possibilities include getting work experience in the UK with family and local businessmen, as long term I am going to try my hand at being in business. Property related courses also appeal, as I have felt for many years that my hands are not tough or rough enough, plus it will help enormously when I srape together a deposit for property development.
There was also a vague plan to cycle around Europe with another Tefl bum, though I haven't heard much from him, he is in Columbia( if still alive). Also cycling or traveling sounds fun but doesn't engage my work ethic much- it'll also be expensive...
Along the lines of the future and non jobs there is something I have been thinking about, and want to do some day. That is building in developing countries. It will give me the experience of building and construction necessary for the foundations of property development (or at least a fundamental understanding of it) and, give the right choice, a chance to have an authentic experience, using language skills in a natural environment.
Post Summer, into the next academic year, there are other choices to be made. If I move on where will I go. Possibilities include Japan, Korea, other parts of Europe,.. no idea. The yen is very , very tempting though.
For those of you brave, or bored, enough to have read this far I add a spanner (possibly where he got the planner and spanner thing from!) into the works. All my current thoughts are affected by th mist rain and fog of this time of year. I haven't focused on the positives. *
So there's my ideas, not quite 100, but hopefully one will be good enough.
*The sun might change my mind on all these crazy plans.....
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Monday, 19 January 2009
Sunday
The morning heralded a new start, getting up at the earlier time of 8ish(7.30 on a good weekday), using this time to finish an autobiographical book by Ernest hall that mildly mirrors my own internal struggles between passions that are wildy different. He liked piano and business, whereas I like dance and business.
With the mist and fog surrounding Ajuda instead of the basketball game me and Conrad had previosuly planned we went swimming instead, Marie came along too.
My stamina for swimming isn't great, but I did a few more lengths than I intended to do, so was reasonably happy with the effort. On arriving home, again in misty rainy fog I resisted the urge to sleep and arranged to meet a fellow teacher. I took a few buses there, missed her stop and got there half an hour late, oops.
At hers we watched a cool film called the bucket list with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicolson all about two cancer patients completing some mad stuff before they kick the bucket. After I went to meet Pedro, a swiss bboying prodigy. We tried in vain to find somewhere to dance. We walked for close to 2 hours looking, in the brolly no good side ways rain. We walked about the investment that both our countries back home puts into aspiring national atheletes and how it isnt matched with bboying. He is going to be an international bboy, closing towards 25 and with my recent year or so with very little training I'm losing any determination that was once there to get there. Dancing for love, not glory.
At the end of the night we wondered into the adidas shop near the Benfica stadium, that we had walked around nearly twice. We walked inside, warmth. So nice. I sat down, or rather collapsed down. Mental and physically tired. We further the chat on how when we are older we are certain we would be able to afford dance studio time, the irony is that there are very few bboys with the ability or the botheredness to want to do it in their 30s. I know I'd much prefer to do it all now, or at least in my twenties.
On the way home I think about the fact that when I am not with driven people, who piss on my own miserable goals, I don't push myself much. Mental note to keep trying in life.
The morning heralded a new start, getting up at the earlier time of 8ish(7.30 on a good weekday), using this time to finish an autobiographical book by Ernest hall that mildly mirrors my own internal struggles between passions that are wildy different. He liked piano and business, whereas I like dance and business.
With the mist and fog surrounding Ajuda instead of the basketball game me and Conrad had previosuly planned we went swimming instead, Marie came along too.
My stamina for swimming isn't great, but I did a few more lengths than I intended to do, so was reasonably happy with the effort. On arriving home, again in misty rainy fog I resisted the urge to sleep and arranged to meet a fellow teacher. I took a few buses there, missed her stop and got there half an hour late, oops.
At hers we watched a cool film called the bucket list with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicolson all about two cancer patients completing some mad stuff before they kick the bucket. After I went to meet Pedro, a swiss bboying prodigy. We tried in vain to find somewhere to dance. We walked for close to 2 hours looking, in the brolly no good side ways rain. We walked about the investment that both our countries back home puts into aspiring national atheletes and how it isnt matched with bboying. He is going to be an international bboy, closing towards 25 and with my recent year or so with very little training I'm losing any determination that was once there to get there. Dancing for love, not glory.
At the end of the night we wondered into the adidas shop near the Benfica stadium, that we had walked around nearly twice. We walked inside, warmth. So nice. I sat down, or rather collapsed down. Mental and physically tired. We further the chat on how when we are older we are certain we would be able to afford dance studio time, the irony is that there are very few bboys with the ability or the botheredness to want to do it in their 30s. I know I'd much prefer to do it all now, or at least in my twenties.
On the way home I think about the fact that when I am not with driven people, who piss on my own miserable goals, I don't push myself much. Mental note to keep trying in life.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
On the ups and downs of teaching adults
I was dreading my intensive course. Ever since November I was told I would be having another intensive, most likely the same group that showed a mild distaste for the Cambridge methods. I wasn't overly thrilled by the prospect.
Fortunately it has transpired that I wouldn't be given the public humiliation of teaching students that neither like me or respect me. I was given a higher level, and that was that.
Something else that wasn't filling me with joy was the late nights, 8 'til 10pm on Mondays and Fridays, meaning later nights and correspondingly later mornings. When the day came I was mildly nervous. A room full of adults waiting for me. In retrospective terms my nervousness is incomparable to the first few months of teaching. The downfall of any teacher is a loss of confidence, as soon as you show it you are a goner. I'm not a goner so I do no such thing.
Midway through my first lesson with the new group I realise that my assumption that they would all be working professionals, and they'd be interested in learning more business type English was spot on. I teach an Accenture high flying, over worked mid twenty girl, a chemical analyst for a pharmaceutical firm, a marketing manager for a pharmaceutical, a marketing dirctor of a company that supplies the pharmaceuticals and a business woman who didn't speak a great deal about her role. Either way, they were happy and so was I.
I quite like being around people that want to learn. It makes a change from dealing with ungrateful teenagers, not that they all are, that on the whole waste their parents money and make me feel as if I am wasting my time and more importantly, my energy. * Note that there are exceptions to this in different degrees, however 40 to 50% couldn't give a fogo.
I like the class, though notice immediately the striking disparity between the levels of some of the students. I hope that this will not cause problems. I feel among the impatient to press on, a symptom of a desire to learn, means there may be some kind of intolerance of slower learners. The reason I know this is a distinct possibility is because, in my own tediously slow lessons, I am the student wishing to press on.
I wish myself luck.
I was dreading my intensive course. Ever since November I was told I would be having another intensive, most likely the same group that showed a mild distaste for the Cambridge methods. I wasn't overly thrilled by the prospect.
Fortunately it has transpired that I wouldn't be given the public humiliation of teaching students that neither like me or respect me. I was given a higher level, and that was that.
Something else that wasn't filling me with joy was the late nights, 8 'til 10pm on Mondays and Fridays, meaning later nights and correspondingly later mornings. When the day came I was mildly nervous. A room full of adults waiting for me. In retrospective terms my nervousness is incomparable to the first few months of teaching. The downfall of any teacher is a loss of confidence, as soon as you show it you are a goner. I'm not a goner so I do no such thing.
Midway through my first lesson with the new group I realise that my assumption that they would all be working professionals, and they'd be interested in learning more business type English was spot on. I teach an Accenture high flying, over worked mid twenty girl, a chemical analyst for a pharmaceutical firm, a marketing manager for a pharmaceutical, a marketing dirctor of a company that supplies the pharmaceuticals and a business woman who didn't speak a great deal about her role. Either way, they were happy and so was I.
I quite like being around people that want to learn. It makes a change from dealing with ungrateful teenagers, not that they all are, that on the whole waste their parents money and make me feel as if I am wasting my time and more importantly, my energy. * Note that there are exceptions to this in different degrees, however 40 to 50% couldn't give a fogo.
I like the class, though notice immediately the striking disparity between the levels of some of the students. I hope that this will not cause problems. I feel among the impatient to press on, a symptom of a desire to learn, means there may be some kind of intolerance of slower learners. The reason I know this is a distinct possibility is because, in my own tediously slow lessons, I am the student wishing to press on.
I wish myself luck.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
feeling the frost
In recent days Portugal has become cold. The in-touch of people here, very few people (unless you are talking about Portuguese football gossip), know what is going on outside of Europe.
I did a recent experiemnt, a poll of my teenagers.
I asked them if they thought there was anything interesting or different about what is going on with the weather. They told me about the weather being dangerously cold in Portugal (minus 5). I reiterated, specifying news from ' the outside', about anywhere else, outside of the big P. 3 girls, out of over 30 students knew about Russia, only one knew any detail.
Meanwhile, the Portuguese government is giving out blanks, in a frantic hurry to save their population. Big ups to the populations of the other countries, on 'the outside', who manage to cope with minus 10 or minus 20, without gas.
Reading back over this there is a ' I know lots' kind of tone. I don't wish to portray this, as news to me isn't important. It is just interesting comparing Portuguese teenagers with their UK counterparts, I hope UK teenagers would know about ' the outside', without wanting to sound pompous, I did at their age.
Meanwhile, it is cold, at least for the Portuguese.
I saw people taking photos of the frost on Thursday morning, frantically clicking away while I looked on somewhat bemused. Interesting to see a different perspective.
I did a recent experiemnt, a poll of my teenagers.
I asked them if they thought there was anything interesting or different about what is going on with the weather. They told me about the weather being dangerously cold in Portugal (minus 5). I reiterated, specifying news from ' the outside', about anywhere else, outside of the big P. 3 girls, out of over 30 students knew about Russia, only one knew any detail.
Meanwhile, the Portuguese government is giving out blanks, in a frantic hurry to save their population. Big ups to the populations of the other countries, on 'the outside', who manage to cope with minus 10 or minus 20, without gas.
Reading back over this there is a ' I know lots' kind of tone. I don't wish to portray this, as news to me isn't important. It is just interesting comparing Portuguese teenagers with their UK counterparts, I hope UK teenagers would know about ' the outside', without wanting to sound pompous, I did at their age.
Meanwhile, it is cold, at least for the Portuguese.
I saw people taking photos of the frost on Thursday morning, frantically clicking away while I looked on somewhat bemused. Interesting to see a different perspective.
An up and down week
An up and down week
Arriving into Lisbon I was verging on kissing the pavement, that glad to leave the freezing UK behind my sorry self.. The 20 euro, four times the average price ripoff taxi ride took me back down to earth. Tho, I was back 'home' and could now cook, have nice showers and sleep in a big bed. And, to be fair to the satisfactory nature of my bedroom, break (in my room).
I was still having a good time on Monday, managing to get myself on a Portuguese course with my company, aka the Firm. Nice perk, that said it had been offered way back in September and has only materialised now.
I have been pushed up a class, thankfully skipping the absolute beginners and been put in the second class. My sole classmate is middle aged, from Belgium and struggles greatly with the accent and the ability to speak any of the language without diluting it with her native French, or indeed snippets of Spanish and even English. She is trying, though it can be a little painful being in a class with her. She is also not the sharpish nail in the box, finding it difficult to grasp basic gramamr points (most of which are exactly the same as French, as the teacher points out in her own language teacher outbursts- lets face it, it happens to us all....)
I was quite surprised when I found out that it was only the two of us, and happy about it. It allows extraordinary student speaking time and attention. Free lessons. Lot of attention and help. Any drawbacks? Yes, the time of the classes. 9 till 11. Not a problem if you are a merry kind of chap living on the Great British Isles. Here it means arriving home between 10 and midnight( as English teachers work in the afternoons and evenings), eating and chilling, going to sleep no earlier than 1am and getting up, ideally, around 7.30am the next morning. I am no mathematician but that is not sustainable. I have started going to bed earlier but it aint easy. Classes are great though.
Arriving into Lisbon I was verging on kissing the pavement, that glad to leave the freezing UK behind my sorry self.. The 20 euro, four times the average price ripoff taxi ride took me back down to earth. Tho, I was back 'home' and could now cook, have nice showers and sleep in a big bed. And, to be fair to the satisfactory nature of my bedroom, break (in my room).
I was still having a good time on Monday, managing to get myself on a Portuguese course with my company, aka the Firm. Nice perk, that said it had been offered way back in September and has only materialised now.
I have been pushed up a class, thankfully skipping the absolute beginners and been put in the second class. My sole classmate is middle aged, from Belgium and struggles greatly with the accent and the ability to speak any of the language without diluting it with her native French, or indeed snippets of Spanish and even English. She is trying, though it can be a little painful being in a class with her. She is also not the sharpish nail in the box, finding it difficult to grasp basic gramamr points (most of which are exactly the same as French, as the teacher points out in her own language teacher outbursts- lets face it, it happens to us all....)
I was quite surprised when I found out that it was only the two of us, and happy about it. It allows extraordinary student speaking time and attention. Free lessons. Lot of attention and help. Any drawbacks? Yes, the time of the classes. 9 till 11. Not a problem if you are a merry kind of chap living on the Great British Isles. Here it means arriving home between 10 and midnight( as English teachers work in the afternoons and evenings), eating and chilling, going to sleep no earlier than 1am and getting up, ideally, around 7.30am the next morning. I am no mathematician but that is not sustainable. I have started going to bed earlier but it aint easy. Classes are great though.
Sunday, 21 December 2008
summing up 2008 in an article
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.
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.
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),...........
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