In which I commence teaching English in Spain
Today was the first day of school!
For me anyway. Those poor kiddies have been there for a few weeks already, but I get to stroll in late, leave early, and skip class on occasion because I am a teacher now. I think I can get used to this.
My first day went entirely better than expected, considering that I hadn't heard a peep from my school and I showed up this morning just hoping they would know who I was. Here is a summary of the information I has ahead of time: a phone number (didn't work), an email address (didn't work) and an address (I did actually come find it before today...just to be sure it really existed). I didn't really know what time to be there, so I just went for it and decided that 9 a.m. was a nice, round number, and it all worked out okay, so, you know, c'est la vie, right?
But once they figured out who I was and why I was there, my fellow teachers were super friendly and excited to meet a real, live American. Foreigners are common around here, and they flock here in the summer for the beach, but the English-speaking ones are generally of the UK variety, and Americans are as rare around these parts as nude beaches in Utah.
I got a little tour around the school, which is bright and airy and very new, and is decorated with childlike artwork and vibrantly colored posters encouraging the children to be good citizens - in short, it looked and felt exactly like any other elementary school in the whole western world. Only in this one, the lunchroom chatter is in Spanish!
The children were incredibly excited to see me, and when the other teacher announced that I was going to teach them English and that I was from the US, there was a general uproar, and one little girl clapped her hands in astonished delight. Several kids mouths dropped open in a Home Alone, Macauley Caulkin-esque kind of way that was adorable and pretty endearing.
I got to meet the English teachers, and after a few minutes chatting they confessed ruefully that my Spanish was definitely better than their English, which unfortunately is probably true. The Mister reports similar things from his school, which is a high school - the English teachers are very kind and friendly but nearly completely unable to understand his English, so Spanish works better. Eeek.
The Mister had a chance to stand in front of his new class while they asked him a few questions. In their halting English, they asked him the following vital, hard-hitting questions:
"Which is your team, Barcelona or Madrid?"
(He reports that when he said that he likes "Barca", the entire classroom absolutely erupted: half triumphant yells and team chants, and the other half (the Madrid half, one presumes) in jeers and slurs, which is spunky and kind of awesome. The Mister reports that it took at least five minutes for the room to return to normal.)
"Do you like Twilight?"
(To which he responded "Team Edward". And now let's all observe a moment of silence for those poor Spanish teen girls who have fallen in love with their new English teacher that is blonde and American and exotic. He's taken, chicas.)
"Do you listen to Just Beiber?"
(To which he responded succinctly "No." Aaaaaand...they fell back out of love.)
And, in a moment absolutely unrelated to this post, I will leave you for the weekend with this picture of us in outrageous outfits (thanks, Tara) because I can. Because it's mablog.
Boy meets girl. Girl goes to Spain. Boy comes too. Hilarity ensues. Love & Paella