That time of the year

After a trimester or so of preparation, most of my second-years at my school finally took their Trinity spoken English exams today. I say "most," because there were a few kids who weren't prepared to even sit in on a first-level interview, who have difficulties even in Spanish, and stare at you blankly when you ask their name or their age. At the extreme end of the pole, there were a handful of children who took the level three exams. The rest sat in on level two's.

Calling a five-minute interview an "exam," implies all sorts of things, but I continued to refer to it as such so that the children might take it more seriously and aim for their best. The truth of the matter, however, is that we (myself and the teacher) were probably more nervous than the kids put together. I understand that education is a multifaceted process, but you can't help but feel like somewhat of a failure when an eight-year-old can't tell you about the color of his eyes.

For the most part, I tried not to sweat it. I'm familiar with each student's strengths and weaknesses, and I think I've done a fair job of working around both, of encouraging them to aim as high as they can. Whether or not the kids pass the exam and receive a certificate is clearly not up to me. In the end, it is just a piece of paper. There are myriad ways to buld confidence, and I just hope that they develop a healthy sense of it. And maybe--just maybe--they'll find a use for English and other languages, too.

On strike!

By chance, I browsed through a copy of 20 Minutos, one of the free dailies handed out at the metro, on the way to work. It's sad to say, but I'm usually not alert enough in the morning to glance at anything but headlines succinctly describing faits divers. A crime here, a scandal there. There will be partly cloudy weather and perhaps yet another celebrity will adorn their child yet another ultra unique name.

And here I thought I had it bad.

I guess I've been really out of the loop, because tomorrow will see a general strike calling Madrid-area teachers to protest against the privatization of education. You know the story, so let's cut to chase: less funding for public schools.

This translates to decreasing attraction, in more than one way. I'm not familiar with the kind of training a teacher would need to work in a concertado or a full private school, but obtaining a post at a public school is definitely a case of demand overrunning supply. If it's "easier" to work at the former (what would you need in terms of qualifications?), then it probably makes sense to forego the latter, unless it's really what you are keen on. (Like I said, I don't know much about the teaching professions, in Spain or even in the U.S., so if someone can enlighten me, please feel free.)

Families are also opting out of public education due to lack of materials and space. From my own experience, the teacher with whom I work sometimes has to pay out of her own pocket for things that the children use on a daily basis such as pencils and erasers; other times, the expenses are for art projects. My school is slowly "modernizing," too; a small screen for the assembly hall and a new photocopier are some of the items on the agenda. In the last few months, they've been reconfiguring some rooms on the first floor to accommodate the incoming third classes of first- and second-years, respectively (usually, there are only two in each level).

Keeping this in mind, it then makes sense for some families to pay for more, better resources. If they can afford it, why not, right? On the other hand, it brings up the familiar problem of a kind of socioeconomic flight which Katie Profunda had brought up a while back. Spain has surely come a long way towards diversity, but it has many more miles to go.

In the end, you may wonder if I myself am going on strike tomorrow. The answer is an unequivocal no; since I'm a mere assistant, therefore not a teacher, therefore not a civil servant, it's my job to stay. Only two teachers from my school are protesting, and the rest, like the teacher with whom I work, because it's the children who matter.






(Image: Rini Templeton)

Collective nouns

Semana Santa can't come any sooner. You can tell that everyone--from the staff to the children--are ready for a break. I don't doubt that there's some sort of sordid telenovela-ish tale going on at about every school, as there's definitely been a fair share of intrigue at mine. And everyone is painfully aware that, unfortunately, no drama is complete without preconceived notions, miscommunication, and outright exaggerations. An "us" against "them," and lately, "me" against "you" mentality that's slowly festering the halls.

P, one of the women who's doing her practicas at my school, asked me if some of the assistants had been making fun of one of the teachers during the morning break. Nervous, I chuckled lightly, and tried to explain that the laughter had a "background story," that it was all in "good fun," and that, actually, we were also laughing at one of our fellow assistants. Somehow, this led P to remark that for the most part, we assistants (at my school, anyway) keep to ourselves, occupying one corner of the humonguous staff table like a knight occupying a chessboard, speaking in our rapid English and not bothering to commiserate with the rest of the staff.

I nodded in agreement. Everything she outlined was spot on. I offered that some of us perhaps felt too awkward, too intimidated to speak in Spanish, or that there were maybe cultural or--more likely--generational differences, as only three teachers are under 30. I was aware that P didn't mean to be on the attack. She was just stating the obvious. The more I reasoned, however, the more it seemed like I was making excuses for our proclivity for comfort, for the familiar. So, I let "slip" that there also seemed to be, or at least, there had been, some unresolved "issues" between teachers, and between teachers and their assistants.

I left it at that because I've been pretty much oblivious to the hostilities. I work with the program coordinator, with two groups of second-years, and from what I can tell, we're getting along fine. There's no scandal, so to speak, no heinous crime committed. So, the only time I am brought back "in the loop," is when one assistant confides in another and I just happen to be in the same room. By dint of recording events, however vaguely, I am indeed involved. Because I'm in the same room half-listening to this would-be intimate conversation I'm involved. And because I'm also an assistant, also a foreigner in self-exile, I'm sometimes roped into agreeing, as an act of solidarity. "Us" against "them," "me" against "you."

Truth is, nobody knows the whole truth, just fragments. She said, he said, they said, but that's not what I heard!

Exhausting, but kind of unavoidable. I wanted to explain, not apologize. I wanted to share with P that the laughter was more complicated than a mere jab, that it wasn't about that specific teacher, or any of the staff, really. More about "us," than "them," whoever we may be.



(Image: Learning Page)

Eureka! (and other happenings)

I spent the last weekend in Córdoba and when I came back, I had a room. I also had a last unpleasant (financial) surprise from my ex-roommates, but nothing could really hold me back from the thought of high-tailing it out of there. So, the apartment is at the opposite end of the city from work, and so, I have to walk through the roommate's apartment to get to the bathroom. The location is closer to places where I actually hang out, everything is new-ish, IKEA-ish, the walls are a cheery yellow, and the roommate herself seems clean-ish and responsible. Both she and the landlady agreed to let me move in a week earlier, so more points to them.

Nevertheless, my bubble was burst too soon. You may or may not remember my having tripped on a USB cord, then trying to jam it into the port anyway, and then crashing my motherboard. Or maybe not. In any case, I took it back to the U.S. with me to get it repaired. Now, all fixed up, it's in the hands of Spanish customs officials who want me to claim it with my internet receipt because they think it's a recent purchase and thus want me to pay duty on it. Issue one.

Issue two. I jaunt up to my nearest post office to retrieve a wire transfer. I grin, say I don't have a second name, which would technically be my mother's maiden name. I'm not handed the money over because none of the ID I brought with me states my full name, precisely the one with my mother's maiden name. I jog back to my new place, sure that all that grandeur is on my passport. No! Just the middle initial. I scurry through all the documents I have; an acceptance letter from grad school has saved me. Back at the post office, the very amiable clerk--who likes García Lorca and Machado, he admits during small talk--regrets that he still can't dole it out, due to some spelling mistake on either the sender's or the US post office's behalf. This is the reason I don't use her name.

Issue three, something I've been handling as best as I've been able to, is the illness of the teacher with whom I work, and the school's bilingual program coordinator. She's prepared me with as many activities and worksheets than you can shake a stick at. Last week, other teachers were rotating the disciplining and monitoring duties, and all I had to do was implement the very meticulous lesson plans. This week, the school's even hired a sub. However, it's quite clear to me that I'm so very not a professional and whatever dreams I entertained about teaching languages to primary school children is fast spiraling down the drain. Then again, I suppose that this itself is such a non-issue, and I ought to deal it with the way I do.

Even after these small trials, though, I no longer fear going home. There, I can blow off steam, relax a bit, and wonder how best to tackle the next day. For once, I'm perfectly content in my own very tiny corner of the world. Worry-free, if only for a short while.

All by myself

I've never been alone with the children for more than half an hour, but today I'll have them for all four sessions. This is because the teacher will be working with folks from our twin school in Sheffield, UK, and will thus be occupied for the majority of the day.

Luckily, I'll be more than the glorified childminder. The teacher--who's the school's bilingual program coordinator--has left lesson plans. More importantly, she's secured a sub, mainly to monitor. In a nutshell, to get things to calm down if it gets too out of hand. This is a particular problem with the bunch today, referred to by the teacher as "the naughty group." The children and I get along fine, but a) I suppose that I've been a tad too friendly with them this term, and b) I'm not the "real" profe.

I took down copious notes of how the teacher wanted the lessons to be presented and--as a last resort--I can send kids to the sub for disciplinary action. In any case, I won't let this bring me down.

After all, I'm going to Paris tonight.

Happy Halloween!

Everyone--well, most everyone--at school today was hyped for two major reasons: one, the holiday (and the accompanying coloring, games, and CANDY), and two, the firefighters' visit.

O, the director of studies, passed around a notice during lunch yesterday. The team would be coming by around 11:30AM to do a presentation with the 3rd graders, but all were welcome to see their "exhibit" afterwards. You only had to be aware that there were going to be men in uniform and you could be assured that the female staff we're going to be on hand...to bring the kids 'round of course.

They got started a bit late, but no one minded. My three fellow female assistants (the other is male) on the opposite side of the fire engine, watching the men get everything ready, and motioning for me to come over. I grinned and shook my head, opting to stay with the masses of children that had gathered, and everyone glinting at the bright sky as the ladder zoomed up and up, past the roof. The kids went especially crazy as one firefighter, then another, hoisted himself down using the rope, doing flips on the way.

Afterwards there were many photo ops to be had, and again, I was invited to join, but again, I declined. From the sidelines, I took a photograph of my three fellow assistants posing with one of the cuter (or so one mentioned) firefighters, who would apparently later text one of my coworkers commenting on her bonita sonrisa. Needless to say, it was a pretty exciting event, albeit too cortito, as a student would later comment.

For the rest of the afternoon, my class worked on Halloween riddles and their masks. I had traced out two faces: a pumpkin and a black cat, the former of which was more popular, but the latter turning out to be much cuter. We ended the day by me doling out candy--some gummi, some creamy stuff, some gum, and M&Ms--wearing a witch hat I bought only yesterday at a 1-EUR-store (dreadfully called a chino, because they majority of its proprietors are presumably of Chinese descent). I tried to get them to say "trick or treat," but to no avail. Oh well.

Let me just say that I never knew exactly how lethal the "kids with candy" combination can get. Well, perhaps I'm exaggerating, but they kept wanting to switch, or asking for more, like ravenous baby chicks. "Let's save some for the other class!" I told my first. Seeing as how my ghost bucket is still 1/4 full, I could've easily given them more chuches, but I really worried about sugaring them up too much. I did, however, encounter a few students outside of the main entrance, waiting for their parents, so I took liberties and gave them some more. An adult called out one of them, and I was at first scared, but then she thanked me. What a relief.

Now I'm just killing time before I take tonight's overnight train to San Sebastián, where A and I barely booked a room. Our plans for Granada had fallen through, so we thought this would be a good alternative. Too bad we hadn't planned much earlier (better), because ALL of the places we looked at within our budget--from

the branch of the national youth hostel association to the 2* pension--were booked. Luckily, one place from among the many that I frantically emailed last night responded that they still had a double room available, so I sent them our info straight away. We'll see how that goes in the next post. Until then, have a great weekend, eat lots of huesos de santo and buñuelos de viento!

Back to school and intercambios

For first term, I´m assisting the school´s program coordinator with two different groups of 6-7 years old. I´ve mostly been observing so far, and helping out with the odd pronunciation here and there, as well as working with small groups of 4-5 kids in the afternoon, reviewing prepositions and the like.

The staff and the kids with whom I work are, for the most part friendly. Some (of the kids) have had difficulties pronouncing my name, calling me anything from Carmen to Carpeta (!), I tell them that I´m also trying to learn their names. The kids also take the time to say hi and chat with me a little bit before class. On my second day there, I was confused about where I was supposed to enter and wound up in the recreational area. One of my students spotted me, ran up and gave me a hug. Another went so far as to inform me that her santo was coming up, which made me wonder if it was a hint of sorts to bring her some candy.

Half of the time I´m not really sure about what I´m doing, but the teacher is very communicative, not only guiding me in the different projects, but also asking for input on how to best implement such and such a lesson plan, or looking for suggestions for activities. Next week, I believe that we´ll get some Halloween stuff in motion, as well as (hopefully), some crafts related to Día de los Muertos.

Other than school, I´ve been too pooped to really do much of anything, although I posted an ad on Loquo for intercambios, and I´ve had one every day since Friday, until next. I thought I´d give private lessons, but to meet different sorts of people, perhaps those with whom I can go to the movies or the museum, this is really great way to do it. And of course, I´m ameliorating my Spanish-language skills as well. I´ll write more about my impressions later, whenever I get on the internet again.

Thanks for reading.

News from my school

from: My School Madrid
to: assistants assigned to the school
date: Sep 19, 2007 6:03 AM

Hello to our new language assistants,
My name is María Jesús and you are going to work and teach in our school.
Our school is very nice and very well located, the underground is very close
to the school, the station is called -------.

You will work with children from 5 to 10, and you also help our English
teachers in their tasks, maybe you will teach samll groups of children or
you can prepare special materials for our English or Science lessons for
this reason, I beg your collaboration in order to facilitate your tasks for
instance you can bring some:
-pictures about you and your family. You can use them in order to introduce
your family to our children.
-pictures about your city, country, main monuments, etc.
-brochures of museums, places to visit in yopur country, some maps,..
-tickets from bus, train,..
-money (just show notes and coins, don´t worry!)
-Menu from restaurants or fast food, take away, etc.
-newspapers and comics or tales that the children read in your countries.
Something about special celebrations: Halloween, X-mas, Pancake day,
Mother´s day, father´s day,...

All the Spanish teachers and their pupils are waiting for you.

See you in October. Bye

María Jesús

RV: Escuela Oficial de Idiomas

from: "FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR" <--------.------@madrid.org>
to: incoming assistants
date: Sep 5, 2007 6:49 AM


Mensaje para los auxiliares interesados en las clases de la Escuela Oficial de Idiomas:


En relación a los muchos mensajes interesándose por la posibilidad de realizar la prueba de nivel para los cursos de español para extranjeros en la escuela oficial de idiomas, os comunico que los que estáis ya en Madrid o vais a llegar en los próximos días podéis inscribiros desde este momento para realizar la prueba que tendrá lugar en la Escuela de Idiomas Goya, el día 25 de septiembre a las 4 de la tarde. A continuación tenéis la dirección, y los horarios de atención al público. Recordad mencionar que sois auxiliares de conversación de la Comunidad de Madrid. Si vais a llegar después del 25, os podemos hacer la prueba el 2 de octubre después de la sesión de orientación y no hace falta que os inscribáis previamente.



Dirección
C/ Santa Brígida, 10
28004 - Madrid
Tfno.: 91.521.xx.xx
Fax: 91.521.xx.xx


Cómo llegar a la EOI Madrid - Goya
Se pueden utilizar los siguientes medios de transporte público:

     * Estaciones de metro
          o Alonso Martínez: líneas 4, 5 y 10
          o Tribunal: líneas 1 y 10
    * Autobuses
          o Líneas 3, 40 y 149


Ver mapa más grande


Un saludo,

Aurelio






J.Aurelio Llaneza
Asesor Técnico Docente
Consejería de Educación, COMUNIDAD DE MADRID
C/ Alcalá 32, 2ª Planta
28014, Madrid
91 720 xxxx
-------.-------@madrid.org

Short thoughts on the coming school year

How could I've missed it? On my school's website it clearly states that "Los contenidos trabajados en inglés pertenecen a las áreas de Lengua Inglesa, Conocimiento del Medio y Plástica."

Uy. I obviously was reading too fast or not close enough.

I've been really focused on gathering ideas for arts and crafts projects as of late, as well as dipping into civics (immigration and citizenship, especially). There are so many things I'm eager to discuss, but I have to keep reminding myself that I'm there mostly to assist the teachers, who probably (well, should) already have lesson plans. I guess part of me is expecting the same kind of deal doled out to some of the assistants in France--that is, left on their own to implement the curriculum and manage the class(es). In a nutshell, paid to do the certified teacher's work at a fraction of the cost.

Hopefully none (or very few) of us find ourselves in this situation, but if we do, we hopefully have resources to correct it. I say hopefully because each case may vary, and if no one comes or is plain unable to help, well then, as trying as it might become, we'll just have to make the best of things.