5 October 2006
I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. Of course, I’m surmising what it feels like to run a marathon. The closest I’ve ever come to such a feat is to walk quickly…around the block. Although I do recall a cross country run I stumbled through as a teenager. It was part of our high school physical education program. I was not impressed at having to jog up and down hills and gullies and along uneven ground, the long grass catching at my screaming calf muscles, and the sweat gathering unattractively on my upper lip and dripping between my developing bosom, appropriately supported by a B cup sports bra.
But I digress.
I exit the classroom feeling depleted. Flushed, and fatigued. It’s the end of my second week teaching this group. They are all employees of the provincial government, but they come from a variety of departments and office locations across central Naples. This explains why some of them stagger in to class quite late (for a 2:15pm start) and some sneak out early before the 4:45 pm finishing time.
I have discovered today, quite accidentally, that I am working for what is probably one of the best private language schools in Naples. I feel quite lucky that that is the case. They have procedures, a reasonable level of organisation, strong management and support staff and a sound reputation. This might all sound very ordinary to most of you, but here in Naples it’s nothing short of miraculous.
The schools operate as individual franchises, with European headquarters in Switzerland. Switzerland HQ produces the InLingua books for the European franchises. Book 1 is for the complete beginners and by the end of Book 1 the students are expected to have ‘survival’ level English. Book 5 is when you are the equivalent of a mother language speaker. In Naples the schools generally teach Books 1-3. I’m teaching my Provincial group the second half of Book 2.
The school also has a documented policy on class sizes, with a maximum of eight students. There are twenty-five enrolled in my Provincial group. “Why?” I hear you scream. “That’s not fair. You might as well be teaching for Education Queensland if you are prepared to tolerate those conditions!” I hear you lament. The reality is that these government groups are funded by taxpayers, and naturally the government expects value for its dollars (especially when so much government funding just drains away mysteriously…oh, did I just say that out loud?) So instead of a small civilised group, twice a week I’m tackling the equivalent of a rugby league team and a cricket team which explains why I come out of the class feeling like I’ve been through a 2 ½ hour match.
Last week I was, naturally, a bit nervous and quite anxious for the class to go smoothly. Sometime during the early part of this week I decided I wasn’t going to stress, or spend days preparing. To test that theory I went into the class this afternoon with only half the lesson plan documented. I wanted to test my ability to wing it, and I’m pleased to say that no one got hurt, someone might have learnt something and I don’t even think they noticed.
My mother reckons with all the teachers in the family that I was probably born to teach. I’m not sure that that is the case. There is no way I would compare what I do with what my mother, sisters and aunt have done in their teaching careers. Mostly because I, sadly, lack teaching qualifications and feel like a bit of fraud. (Yes, with time that too will pass.) Ironically, while I’m dragging around these quiet feelings of guilt at being (probably) the only InLingua teacher without ‘real’ qualifications I have already received positive feedback. (Perhaps life experience, supervisory training, management skills, an ability to be silly and embarrass myself and significant practice at communicating with my hands, body and facial expressions are all coming into play.) I don’t want to sound immodest, but Katherine (manager) and the receptionist have commented at how quiet my class is. Here I was worrying that we were being noisy, potentially disrupting other classes.
Apparently the school often finds new teachers struggle to control such a big group. It’s requires a bit of juggling but mostly it’s about not letting them get the upper hand.
The school also has a policy that all classes are to be conducted in English. No Italian is to be spoken inside the classroom. This can be a bit tricky but overall it’s the best way for students to absorb a new language. It is also an attempt to get them thinking in the new language as opposed to just translating everything. Of course this can get a bit frustrating and restrictive for some students, and if you known anything about Italians you’d appreciate that getting them to sit and not speak Italian for 2.5 hours is something of a feat. One of the biggest challenges is reinforcing the rule of ‘Only English, no Italian’. The second challenge is maintaining their attention and interest because as soon as they start to drift they break off into individual conversations which become increasingly louder and more flamboyant.
The last twenty minutes of the class are the hardest, and this afternoon I raised my voice at two students (who are both, more or less, my age). There is no way that I can compete with a loud conversation being conducted at the very front of the class, and I made my point in no uncertain terms. Their faces reflected their surprise, and then their shame. Interestingly they both approached me after class to apologise and try to make their excuses. ‘I’m here to do a job’ I reminded them and then tried to explain that culturally I understood that Neapolitans can talk and listen at the same time but where I come from it just doesn’t happen. When someone is talking you shut up, and listen. Their faces reflected an element of confusion, and Gi later confirmed that such a concept is so foreign here that they wouldn’t have understood. In fact it wasn’t until he’d been living in Australia for some time that he truly understood the idea of not talking over the top of other people. In this part of the world though, they just grow up talking and listening and being in the middle of overlapping conversations.
My colleague Seb(astian), is new to Naples, new to real life teaching and a pretty typical young Englishman. He teaches a smaller government group at the same time as my classes on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. It is compulsory for government employees to attend these English classes. It is part of their work day. They are legally required to sign in and out. Seb’s group pulled a fast one last Tuesday and convinced him that they should finish early. Somewhat gullible, unaware of the employment requirements and the local work ethic (or lack thereof…oh, did I just say that out loud?) he cut the class short. The manager was surprised to see the group wander out some twenty minutes early. Unfortunately it was Seb who received a warning, having effectively been conned by the group.
I think fundamentally he just has a nice face, and a quieter demeanour, and being British he isn’t as comfortable as stepping up to the job of controlling the classroom. More often than not my Australian tendency to be sarcastic and blunt sees me stepping on toes, but in the classroom it certainly helps me avoid being manipulated.
In addition to the challenges of the football scrum group I was asked to give a one-on-one class on Wednesday mornings. The session begins at 8:30 a.m. Now, I initially hoped that I wouldn’t have to teach before 10 a.m. having a natural reluctance to thinking, let alone talking, in the earlier part of the morning. However, this job is not at the school; it is just down the road from where we live in the historical centre. The client is a regional manager for part of the Unicredit banking group. Our first session on Wednesday was in introductory session, and the more he spoke the more I realised I was sitting across from my father. He’s been working for the bank for 43 years. His banking career has seen him transfer every two years or so to another location. Eventually they decided to buy a home in Perugia, in Umbria, one of the provinces they enjoyed living in the most. His home and wife are based in Perugia and he spends the week living in Naples although he does travel to other parts of the south for work. He has grown up children and young grandchildren living in Perugia, Florence and Canterbury in England. He enjoys wine and whiskey, having discovered the delights of quality whiskey during visits to the distilleries in Scotland.
He spoke pragmatically about Naples, picking up the phrase ‘there are two sides to every coin’ that I taught him, using it appropriately to describe a city that struggles with political leadership, traffic and bureaucracy offset against its vibrancy, energy, cuisine and historical significance. I found it quite fascinating listening to an Italian who has an appreciation for Naples. You often find Italians from the north abhor Naples and look down their noses at its chaos, poverty, crudeness and peasant background. While Neapolitans, understandably, are fiercely protective of their city to the point of bias, and consider their northern cousins as blatant industrialists, over regulated and uptight and fail to understand good food and the meaning of life itself. This banking gentleman, Francesco, has lived in the north, the south and looks to be set up to retire in central Italy. Such a balanced view of Naples is something of a rarity, and it was refreshing listening to his analysis and opinions.
6 October 2006: I’ve just received a phone call from the school about another one-on-one lesson. Unfortunately the classes are Wednesday and Friday from 7 – 8:30….p.m. The student is also a complete beginner, which will be challenging. Gigi tends to work until about 8:30pm on Wednesday nights but I’m thinking Friday nights might now become his night to prepare the evening meal. I can see Friday night pizza in my imminent future.
I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. Of course, I’m surmising what it feels like to run a marathon. The closest I’ve ever come to such a feat is to walk quickly…around the block. Although I do recall a cross country run I stumbled through as a teenager. It was part of our high school physical education program. I was not impressed at having to jog up and down hills and gullies and along uneven ground, the long grass catching at my screaming calf muscles, and the sweat gathering unattractively on my upper lip and dripping between my developing bosom, appropriately supported by a B cup sports bra.
But I digress.
I exit the classroom feeling depleted. Flushed, and fatigued. It’s the end of my second week teaching this group. They are all employees of the provincial government, but they come from a variety of departments and office locations across central Naples. This explains why some of them stagger in to class quite late (for a 2:15pm start) and some sneak out early before the 4:45 pm finishing time.
I have discovered today, quite accidentally, that I am working for what is probably one of the best private language schools in Naples. I feel quite lucky that that is the case. They have procedures, a reasonable level of organisation, strong management and support staff and a sound reputation. This might all sound very ordinary to most of you, but here in Naples it’s nothing short of miraculous.
The schools operate as individual franchises, with European headquarters in Switzerland. Switzerland HQ produces the InLingua books for the European franchises. Book 1 is for the complete beginners and by the end of Book 1 the students are expected to have ‘survival’ level English. Book 5 is when you are the equivalent of a mother language speaker. In Naples the schools generally teach Books 1-3. I’m teaching my Provincial group the second half of Book 2.
The school also has a documented policy on class sizes, with a maximum of eight students. There are twenty-five enrolled in my Provincial group. “Why?” I hear you scream. “That’s not fair. You might as well be teaching for Education Queensland if you are prepared to tolerate those conditions!” I hear you lament. The reality is that these government groups are funded by taxpayers, and naturally the government expects value for its dollars (especially when so much government funding just drains away mysteriously…oh, did I just say that out loud?) So instead of a small civilised group, twice a week I’m tackling the equivalent of a rugby league team and a cricket team which explains why I come out of the class feeling like I’ve been through a 2 ½ hour match.
Last week I was, naturally, a bit nervous and quite anxious for the class to go smoothly. Sometime during the early part of this week I decided I wasn’t going to stress, or spend days preparing. To test that theory I went into the class this afternoon with only half the lesson plan documented. I wanted to test my ability to wing it, and I’m pleased to say that no one got hurt, someone might have learnt something and I don’t even think they noticed.
My mother reckons with all the teachers in the family that I was probably born to teach. I’m not sure that that is the case. There is no way I would compare what I do with what my mother, sisters and aunt have done in their teaching careers. Mostly because I, sadly, lack teaching qualifications and feel like a bit of fraud. (Yes, with time that too will pass.) Ironically, while I’m dragging around these quiet feelings of guilt at being (probably) the only InLingua teacher without ‘real’ qualifications I have already received positive feedback. (Perhaps life experience, supervisory training, management skills, an ability to be silly and embarrass myself and significant practice at communicating with my hands, body and facial expressions are all coming into play.) I don’t want to sound immodest, but Katherine (manager) and the receptionist have commented at how quiet my class is. Here I was worrying that we were being noisy, potentially disrupting other classes.
Apparently the school often finds new teachers struggle to control such a big group. It’s requires a bit of juggling but mostly it’s about not letting them get the upper hand.
The school also has a policy that all classes are to be conducted in English. No Italian is to be spoken inside the classroom. This can be a bit tricky but overall it’s the best way for students to absorb a new language. It is also an attempt to get them thinking in the new language as opposed to just translating everything. Of course this can get a bit frustrating and restrictive for some students, and if you known anything about Italians you’d appreciate that getting them to sit and not speak Italian for 2.5 hours is something of a feat. One of the biggest challenges is reinforcing the rule of ‘Only English, no Italian’. The second challenge is maintaining their attention and interest because as soon as they start to drift they break off into individual conversations which become increasingly louder and more flamboyant.
The last twenty minutes of the class are the hardest, and this afternoon I raised my voice at two students (who are both, more or less, my age). There is no way that I can compete with a loud conversation being conducted at the very front of the class, and I made my point in no uncertain terms. Their faces reflected their surprise, and then their shame. Interestingly they both approached me after class to apologise and try to make their excuses. ‘I’m here to do a job’ I reminded them and then tried to explain that culturally I understood that Neapolitans can talk and listen at the same time but where I come from it just doesn’t happen. When someone is talking you shut up, and listen. Their faces reflected an element of confusion, and Gi later confirmed that such a concept is so foreign here that they wouldn’t have understood. In fact it wasn’t until he’d been living in Australia for some time that he truly understood the idea of not talking over the top of other people. In this part of the world though, they just grow up talking and listening and being in the middle of overlapping conversations.
My colleague Seb(astian), is new to Naples, new to real life teaching and a pretty typical young Englishman. He teaches a smaller government group at the same time as my classes on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. It is compulsory for government employees to attend these English classes. It is part of their work day. They are legally required to sign in and out. Seb’s group pulled a fast one last Tuesday and convinced him that they should finish early. Somewhat gullible, unaware of the employment requirements and the local work ethic (or lack thereof…oh, did I just say that out loud?) he cut the class short. The manager was surprised to see the group wander out some twenty minutes early. Unfortunately it was Seb who received a warning, having effectively been conned by the group.
I think fundamentally he just has a nice face, and a quieter demeanour, and being British he isn’t as comfortable as stepping up to the job of controlling the classroom. More often than not my Australian tendency to be sarcastic and blunt sees me stepping on toes, but in the classroom it certainly helps me avoid being manipulated.
In addition to the challenges of the football scrum group I was asked to give a one-on-one class on Wednesday mornings. The session begins at 8:30 a.m. Now, I initially hoped that I wouldn’t have to teach before 10 a.m. having a natural reluctance to thinking, let alone talking, in the earlier part of the morning. However, this job is not at the school; it is just down the road from where we live in the historical centre. The client is a regional manager for part of the Unicredit banking group. Our first session on Wednesday was in introductory session, and the more he spoke the more I realised I was sitting across from my father. He’s been working for the bank for 43 years. His banking career has seen him transfer every two years or so to another location. Eventually they decided to buy a home in Perugia, in Umbria, one of the provinces they enjoyed living in the most. His home and wife are based in Perugia and he spends the week living in Naples although he does travel to other parts of the south for work. He has grown up children and young grandchildren living in Perugia, Florence and Canterbury in England. He enjoys wine and whiskey, having discovered the delights of quality whiskey during visits to the distilleries in Scotland.
He spoke pragmatically about Naples, picking up the phrase ‘there are two sides to every coin’ that I taught him, using it appropriately to describe a city that struggles with political leadership, traffic and bureaucracy offset against its vibrancy, energy, cuisine and historical significance. I found it quite fascinating listening to an Italian who has an appreciation for Naples. You often find Italians from the north abhor Naples and look down their noses at its chaos, poverty, crudeness and peasant background. While Neapolitans, understandably, are fiercely protective of their city to the point of bias, and consider their northern cousins as blatant industrialists, over regulated and uptight and fail to understand good food and the meaning of life itself. This banking gentleman, Francesco, has lived in the north, the south and looks to be set up to retire in central Italy. Such a balanced view of Naples is something of a rarity, and it was refreshing listening to his analysis and opinions.
6 October 2006: I’ve just received a phone call from the school about another one-on-one lesson. Unfortunately the classes are Wednesday and Friday from 7 – 8:30….p.m. The student is also a complete beginner, which will be challenging. Gigi tends to work until about 8:30pm on Wednesday nights but I’m thinking Friday nights might now become his night to prepare the evening meal. I can see Friday night pizza in my imminent future.
2 comments:
well Wren sounds as if your teaching is starting to pay off......don't sell yuorself short,you have qualifications better than many teachers.Lifes experiences and your different langauge skills.keep smiling and the good work mum
I loved this post, Jenny. You described the teaching scene so well and I can just see you there..well done so far! Lynda
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