Odds and Ends
27 July 2006
Odd One
I have a new job, teaching English. I officially start in September, but this afternoon I went in to spend a few hours with the Director of Studies. InLingua (www.inlingua.com) is a franchise business. I think it originated in Italy but the headquarters are now in New York, with the European HQ in Switzerland. Locally, there are two schools in Naples, another at Caserta and one at Palermo. I have been contracted as a freelance teacher, with a guarantee of 20-25 hours a week, or a minimum of 80 hours a month. Of course this being Europe we get paid monthly. Nevertheless, I only want to work about ten hours a week…which is in fact about ten hours too many, but that’s another story.
I was interviewed by Katherine, a lovely English woman, who manages the Centro Direzionale school, in the business district. Today I met Roger, who is the Director of Studies. I was quite nervous about meeting him, but was pleasantly surprised to find myself chatting with a man originally from Catalonia, Spain, who moved to Cardiff, Wales via Majorca, and after meeting his Neapolitan wife-to-be in London moved to Naples about four years ago. He has a lovely soft accent, and a quick wit. He kept dropping the word ‘daft’ into the conversation which for some reason I found quite amusing.
It turns out he marked the Language Assessment test I submitted. I scored 73%. The pass mark is 70% but I was encouraged to hear that some applicants had received only 50%. Roger has asked me to spend some time brushing up on my verb tenses and conditionals…which is exactly what I had planned to do with the summer break! So, having finished the Dan Brown and lollypop girly reading on the bookshelf I will be immersing myself in Grammar guides in both English and Italian.
He ran through some housekeeping issues but these are the things that stuck:
• They understand the state of the traffic in Naples, so if I am running late just let reception know.
• Strictly not allowed to work for another English language school or to offer private tutoring to any of the students.
• Do not give your phone number to students (what if I want to date one?)
• I will not be required to change my Australian accent (phew!)
• No Italian language to be spoken in class (thank goodness coz I can’t speak it anyway…I realised today that Italian is actually my third language which is my excuse for still being so lousy at it)
• Roger is happy to take any and all questions (good coz I’ll have plenty)
• I also think he said he’s Taurean so I like him already
They also have a small library of English novels left behind by previous teachers, and an internet connection (plus all the usual reference texts and teaching aides), so I should be comfortable. Oh, and air conditioning. It was stinking hot today. I arrived at the school dripping sweat, wanting only to float in looking cool and crisp in my white linen shirt.
I’m feeling both excited about the challenge of teaching, meeting new people and moving my brain further away from accounting. But, at the same time, I’m feeling scared to death about the challenge of teaching and meeting new people…which is pretty normal for me. In fact the idea of teaching a group of six Italians is daunting. Just as daunting as I found the prospect of standing in front of forty friendly people at an AFS meeting on a Sunday afternoon each month.
Odd Two
The pharmacies are protesting in Italy. As I understand it, the new Prime Minister, Prodi, has introduced legislation that allows some non prescription medication, like paracetamol, to be sold at supermarkets, health centres etc. Under the old legislation chemists were the only retail outlets to sell these products. They are closing up every Wednesday to contest the changes to the laws.
I reckon it’s easier to buy hashish in Naples than it is to buy paracetamol. It’s probably cheaper too. If Prodi wants to introduce legislation that might help increase competition and reduce the price of a box of Panadol to less than €5 then I’m all for it.
Odd Three
I felt like a celebrity today. I came out of the train station, striding purposefully towards the 201 bus. With Robbie on my iPod and in my ears I could still hear the horns and wolf whistling around me (not all directed at me I might add modestly). As I crossed the road a man in a little white car beeped his horn, both furiously and suggestively if that’s possible. As he drove by he slowed right down and should’ve taken a picture to avoid the strain to his neck as he twisted in his seat to keep looking at me. I ignored him and walked on. He drove by again, real slow, pulling up some ten metres in front.
He was waiting for me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him smiling broadly, maybe that should be lasciviously, at me, again honking as I pulled level with his bonnet. I have to tell you, this whole honking thing as a flirting technique does not cut it. He must have been mid forties, wearing a pale blue shirt over his amble belly (which made me think he might have been a bus driver), his scalp boldly clinging to some comb over attention from that morning.
Continuing with my purposeful striding I steered left towards the buses and away from the road. He continued to sit there, in his car, pulled up in the middle of the lane, other vehicles swerving around him.
Why did this make me feel like a celebrity? Well, know I know what it feels like to be stalked. I know what it feels like to be stalked when you know you look rumpled and limp from the heat. But it makes me wonder what is it that these men are after? Do they think there is a chance that I’m going to stop, look at him, and decide he’s the best thing I’ve seen since sliced bread and just walk over and get into his car? Would he be happy to know someone had done that to his daughter I wonder.
After finding a shady spot near the empty bus stop, in amongst the other riff raff (who were at least all a foot shorter than me and only eyeing me up out of boredom) I watched his car circle the bus depot. I half imagined he might park and get out of his car to come and look for me. But then it occurred to him that he was the laziest type of stalker, the type that can’t be bothered to get out of a car. He’s the type that can’t be bothered engaging his vocal chords so he lets the horn do the talking. However as I stood there waiting an eternity for the 201 I was visualising my knee to testes crushing motion in my head, just in case anyone invaded my personal, sweaty space.
Ends
Naples is experiencing maximums of about 30C or more now. We bought an esky, tea bags and instant coffee this week in preparation for Mum and Dad’s arrival.
I changed my hair colour yesterday. I was going for a bit lighter, but am dark, dark brown instead. The dangers of buying hair colour in a third language!
Oh, and Gi came home with the news that a friend owns land and a little shack near Sorrento, so I expect some late summer camping is on the cards. You’re invited too!
27 July 2006
Odd One
I have a new job, teaching English. I officially start in September, but this afternoon I went in to spend a few hours with the Director of Studies. InLingua (www.inlingua.com) is a franchise business. I think it originated in Italy but the headquarters are now in New York, with the European HQ in Switzerland. Locally, there are two schools in Naples, another at Caserta and one at Palermo. I have been contracted as a freelance teacher, with a guarantee of 20-25 hours a week, or a minimum of 80 hours a month. Of course this being Europe we get paid monthly. Nevertheless, I only want to work about ten hours a week…which is in fact about ten hours too many, but that’s another story.
I was interviewed by Katherine, a lovely English woman, who manages the Centro Direzionale school, in the business district. Today I met Roger, who is the Director of Studies. I was quite nervous about meeting him, but was pleasantly surprised to find myself chatting with a man originally from Catalonia, Spain, who moved to Cardiff, Wales via Majorca, and after meeting his Neapolitan wife-to-be in London moved to Naples about four years ago. He has a lovely soft accent, and a quick wit. He kept dropping the word ‘daft’ into the conversation which for some reason I found quite amusing.
It turns out he marked the Language Assessment test I submitted. I scored 73%. The pass mark is 70% but I was encouraged to hear that some applicants had received only 50%. Roger has asked me to spend some time brushing up on my verb tenses and conditionals…which is exactly what I had planned to do with the summer break! So, having finished the Dan Brown and lollypop girly reading on the bookshelf I will be immersing myself in Grammar guides in both English and Italian.
He ran through some housekeeping issues but these are the things that stuck:
• They understand the state of the traffic in Naples, so if I am running late just let reception know.
• Strictly not allowed to work for another English language school or to offer private tutoring to any of the students.
• Do not give your phone number to students (what if I want to date one?)
• I will not be required to change my Australian accent (phew!)
• No Italian language to be spoken in class (thank goodness coz I can’t speak it anyway…I realised today that Italian is actually my third language which is my excuse for still being so lousy at it)
• Roger is happy to take any and all questions (good coz I’ll have plenty)
• I also think he said he’s Taurean so I like him already
They also have a small library of English novels left behind by previous teachers, and an internet connection (plus all the usual reference texts and teaching aides), so I should be comfortable. Oh, and air conditioning. It was stinking hot today. I arrived at the school dripping sweat, wanting only to float in looking cool and crisp in my white linen shirt.
I’m feeling both excited about the challenge of teaching, meeting new people and moving my brain further away from accounting. But, at the same time, I’m feeling scared to death about the challenge of teaching and meeting new people…which is pretty normal for me. In fact the idea of teaching a group of six Italians is daunting. Just as daunting as I found the prospect of standing in front of forty friendly people at an AFS meeting on a Sunday afternoon each month.
Odd Two
The pharmacies are protesting in Italy. As I understand it, the new Prime Minister, Prodi, has introduced legislation that allows some non prescription medication, like paracetamol, to be sold at supermarkets, health centres etc. Under the old legislation chemists were the only retail outlets to sell these products. They are closing up every Wednesday to contest the changes to the laws.
I reckon it’s easier to buy hashish in Naples than it is to buy paracetamol. It’s probably cheaper too. If Prodi wants to introduce legislation that might help increase competition and reduce the price of a box of Panadol to less than €5 then I’m all for it.
Odd Three
I felt like a celebrity today. I came out of the train station, striding purposefully towards the 201 bus. With Robbie on my iPod and in my ears I could still hear the horns and wolf whistling around me (not all directed at me I might add modestly). As I crossed the road a man in a little white car beeped his horn, both furiously and suggestively if that’s possible. As he drove by he slowed right down and should’ve taken a picture to avoid the strain to his neck as he twisted in his seat to keep looking at me. I ignored him and walked on. He drove by again, real slow, pulling up some ten metres in front.
He was waiting for me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him smiling broadly, maybe that should be lasciviously, at me, again honking as I pulled level with his bonnet. I have to tell you, this whole honking thing as a flirting technique does not cut it. He must have been mid forties, wearing a pale blue shirt over his amble belly (which made me think he might have been a bus driver), his scalp boldly clinging to some comb over attention from that morning.
Continuing with my purposeful striding I steered left towards the buses and away from the road. He continued to sit there, in his car, pulled up in the middle of the lane, other vehicles swerving around him.
Why did this make me feel like a celebrity? Well, know I know what it feels like to be stalked. I know what it feels like to be stalked when you know you look rumpled and limp from the heat. But it makes me wonder what is it that these men are after? Do they think there is a chance that I’m going to stop, look at him, and decide he’s the best thing I’ve seen since sliced bread and just walk over and get into his car? Would he be happy to know someone had done that to his daughter I wonder.
After finding a shady spot near the empty bus stop, in amongst the other riff raff (who were at least all a foot shorter than me and only eyeing me up out of boredom) I watched his car circle the bus depot. I half imagined he might park and get out of his car to come and look for me. But then it occurred to him that he was the laziest type of stalker, the type that can’t be bothered to get out of a car. He’s the type that can’t be bothered engaging his vocal chords so he lets the horn do the talking. However as I stood there waiting an eternity for the 201 I was visualising my knee to testes crushing motion in my head, just in case anyone invaded my personal, sweaty space.
Ends
Naples is experiencing maximums of about 30C or more now. We bought an esky, tea bags and instant coffee this week in preparation for Mum and Dad’s arrival.
I changed my hair colour yesterday. I was going for a bit lighter, but am dark, dark brown instead. The dangers of buying hair colour in a third language!
Oh, and Gi came home with the news that a friend owns land and a little shack near Sorrento, so I expect some late summer camping is on the cards. You’re invited too!
No comments:
Post a Comment