Melissa - Switzerland
A busy day online
today. I start at 8.00am, still in my pyjamas and not yet woken up. Thank God
webcams aren't obligatory yet – our kitten is clawing her way up my back and
going for my headset. I have 6 hours online today: three 45- minute classes
this morning and three from 1.00pm. I must try and complete the reports
immediately – I always leave them a day or two and end up with 18 to do and a
nasty email from admin.
The students are
regulars today, all Japanese, aside from the French bank personnel straight
after lunch. I don't enjoy that one…it's taken weeks for the majority to
'learn' how to greet me. ''How are you Gilbert?'' I say, ''I'm fine'' Gilbert
says. Silence. Every week the same. ''I'm fine thanks'' I shout into the mike
but the French don't do irony – or perhaps Gilbert's not even listening. Hard
to tell with online classes. No problems today – no connection problems, no
sound problems. Still, I'm glad when I turn the pc off. Gives me a headache
sometimes and I swear I'm going boss-eyed.
I take a nap – can't
get through the day without one - then prepare my next class. At 5.00pm, I
stroll round the corner to my private student for an hour or so. He only lives
3 minutes away and his parents pay me cash. If only there were more classes
like this one. They're worried about his grades – since the teacher changed his
grades have slipped apparently. This new teacher seems fond of worksheets with
lists of phrasal verbs. And tests. Seems to love tests. My student wants a lot
of speaking practice – he does precious little at school and it shows: at times
I haven't got a clue what he's saying. Nice kid though and seems to relish the
opportunity to express himself. His face always lights up when I take out a
bunch of cards or a game – and it's been while since I had such an effect on an
18-year-old boy.
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At 7.30pm it's off to
the first evening class after the long summer break. It's still warm here
during the day and not yet dark when I arrive at the school. There's the usual
huddle of cigarette-puffing teenagers outside here for their first aid course -
obligatory for all those after their driving licence. They glare at me as I
pass and I smile, thinking of them on their knees, jeans straining against
large backsides, cheeks reddening as they resuscitate that plastic dummy. They
know how silly they look which makes me feel even better. Thankfully my
students will be a little older and we get to keep out dignity this evening. I
like this building, 19th century, a bit tired in places, wooden floors and
relatively light and airy in the best Swiss tradition. In front there's a huge
fountain, the noise of running water can be heard from all of the classrooms.
At first I thought it was raining every night. I wave at the centre manager but
she is surrounded by new students signing up for their courses, money and books
changing hands. She seems flustered.
No teenagers now but
older people, looking stressed. Some of these people haven't learnt anything
for ages – though some are perpetual students and they'll do a course in
anything. I hope I don't get too many of those in my class. They often lack
drive and take courses simply to have something to do. I go downstairs to the
staff-room – a smelly, dark room with a photocopier and a kettle. Smelly
because there seems to be a problem with the drains in the basement and dark
because there's rarely anyone in it and the light is switched off. Tonight is
no different. It looks like I'm the only English course tonight. This seems to
be the one place in Europe where people apparently don't want to learn English.
There is no reason for me to hang around down here, there is nothing to
photocopy and nobody to speak to, so after checking my cubby hole [ never anything
in it] I head upstairs to room 7, facing the fountain, to meet my new
beginners. The register says tonight there are seven students. A good size and
a shame that half won't last the month. I'm starting to feel hungry and not a
little tired: I'll be glad to get to bed tonight. Still, it's always nice to be
teaching students I can see and touch.
Well, I was wrong. After 5 weeks I've
lost only one and a half of my beginners - and this week gained two new
students. Roger, 31, giggled his way through our first lesson while Willy
sweated and gulped for an hour and a half. They were sat next to each other
like Laurel and Hardy. Willy was in his late 50s, a large, ugly man with a red
face and a bulbous nose. He had never studied English in his life and was
clearly suffering. He blinked at me repeatedly, licked his lips, and had
trouble writing as his pencil slipped through his large, clammy fingers. In a
mixture of Italian, Swiss-German and gestures he explained that he had a lady
friend who spoke English. Willy valiantly stuck with it for an hour and half
before bidding me good-night. We haven't seen him since. Perhaps he decided that
long-distance relationships weren't for him. Or that the lady friend should
learn Swiss German. Poor Willy – I did what I could. Roger comes every other
week, though I would be happy if he didn't come at all as he seems to enjoy
talking to my chest. When he learns that the two new students are female and
under the age of 25 I imagine his attendance will improve. Nothing like the
opposite sex to motivate, especially when the opposite sex are wearing jeans so
tight they should carry a health warning. One of the new students tells me she
is learning English because her boyfriend's from Ebbw Vale and will soon be
moving here to be with her. Crikey. She tells me the Welsh accent is horrible.
I then tell her I was born near Ebbw and that my father's family hail from the
Valleys. It's not entirely true of course. I teach ''I'm very sorry.''I don't understand the other new girl easily - she's very young, speaks
rapidly, and seems to enjoy the confusion it brings. She is clearly nervous but
noisily so. The other students also seem to have trouble following her or maybe
they're faking it to make me feel better. When she excitedly starts correcting
my Italian pronunciation I emit a laugh that's a little too loud and a cross
between Basil Brush and Courtney Love. I catch some raised eyebrows and
sympathetic glances from the older students – though who they're sympathising
with is not immediately clear. Do these kids KNOW that entire books are written
on correction techniques?? No. Of course they don't - and we've all met
teachers who didn't know either. Thankfully the rest of the group are great and
there's a very friendly vibe in the classroom. It never ceases to amaze me how
a group of people, thrown together fairly arbitrarily, can form a workable,
co-operative unit within a very short period of time. This group no-longer
panic when I give instructions in English, they don't correct my Italian unless
I ask, immediately ask for help when they're confused, understand what pairwork
means and they're making very good progress. We ended this week's class with a
sure-fire winner: the mini- presentation on 'My home'. 10 hours into the course
they have sufficient language to use I've got…it's got…it hasn't got…I haven't
got… my…his…bedroom…bathroom…big…small…flat…house etc, and there are always
those who want to personalise with plunge pool, double garage, spiral staircase
and the like. They applaud each other politely, they take mental notes on size
and potential value of each other's property and leave the class looking very
pleased with themselves. As well they should.My online teaching has been without
incident this month. A couple of classes I clean forgot about (I admitted my
memory lapse and have been forgiven), no oddballs, one fanatic and one very
tedious individual, some thoroughly enjoyable conversations and two moments of
pure joy: when Takashi produced 'Well I wouldn't say Bush was handsome
but…Kerry is pretty ugly don't you think?' and when Mamoru bid me adieu with
'Bye for now – thanks again'. Maintaining motivation is often a problem with
all kinds of teaching but I wonder whether this is magnified with online work.
I have taught some of these students for 18 months but with some I have never
so much as seen their photo. Add to this the fact that many are speaking to me
at ungodly hours, after a 15-hour day in some cases. I used to have one lady
who spoke to me at 5.00 am before fixing breakfast for her family, running the
kids to school and going on to her full time job. I am always impressed by the
will power and the determination that some of these students show. Clock
changes mess things up quite a bit however– all the Japanese students have
moved forward an hour and the favourite times – from 13.00 through to 16.00 my
time – are much in demand.I wish my other 'real' group was as straightforward. Six intermediate
students all signed up for a course that's marketed as 'Grammar Revision'
though in my needs analysis session I discover that they all want anything but:
'My pronunciation is poor'; 'I need Telephone English– I'm a secretary'; 'I'm
going to Australia next year'; 'I just want to speak!' They've all purchased the recommended grammar
reference guide which was presented to me as 'the course book'. Sigh. The
result is of course that I spend an inordinate amount of time developing the
course, sourcing material for a group of people who, if truth be told, don't
really know what they want. This wouldn't be quite so bad if the school had any
resources. One monolingual dictionary would be nice, (I did put in a request a
year ago for some but the request was denied) but there is, as hard as it is to
believe, virtually NOTHING in the way of resources. No books, no listening
material, two videos (20 years old and for beginners), no worksheets, no games,
no nothing. I am not at my best in this situation – and it is soon clear that
the 20-stone diva with the inferiority complex is competing with me for the
class's attention. By the time I've finished massaging egos, boosting
confidence, drawing people out, and attempting to meet needs [voiced and
unvoiced] it's time to go home. Perhaps we'll get round to some English next
week eh?
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