Bombones y Bombonas

Today I was lucky enough to receive chocolate bonbons from two of the students to whom I give private English lessons. It was much better than getting an apple. They are ¨posh¨ kids according to the British professor I work for. I think they are sweet. I enjoy their class even though the conversation can sometimes turn tedious because of their level. But, they actually want to improve their English, so they value what I say. I'm sure they can tell that I enjoy class with them.

In general, I enjoy my private lessons better than my classroom duties. I feel more productive because it's much more interactive. When I'm in the classroom it is more difficult to connect with the students. They think I just say "Do you understand?" as a rhetorical question. I usually get a few nods and proceed with the lesson hoping someone will raise a hand if he or she gets lost. Rarely do they raise a hand, so after I explain everything as thoroughly as I possibly can, someone will say, "I don't understand what we have to do." Duh! It's a fill-in-the-blank exercise. What don't you understand?!?!?

It's easy to get frustrated, but luckily, there's always someone in the class who gets it and participates regularly. Well, except 3rd C at my village school, but I don't think I'll have to go back to that classroom, ever. Even with five students we couldn't manage to play Christmas bingo. One of the boys had to go sit in the back by himself....and they're 15, 16 years old!

Anyway, back to the ones that get it. There was a girl today, the only girl who had done the homework, who was answering all the questions. I felt bad because I didn't want her to do all the work. Also, I feel that by interacting with only one student it can be misinterpreted as favoritism. However, that's how it works here. The teacher usually just calls on that one, or those few who understand, and asks them to transmit the message to the others. It's just such a different atmosphere than in an American school.

On another note, the apartment (or "flat" as I'm teaching British English over here) runs on butane gas, it's time to call the bombonero for another gas tank, or bombona. They have the same joke about being the child of the milkman here only it is the child of the man who brings the bombonas of gas. (Cultural moment). The nice thing is that I get to cook on a gas stove, the not so nice thing is that I don't have an oven! I can't bake stuff :(

I'll talk about food another day. Ciao!

Howdy y'all!

I just rode up the elevator in the dark with my neighbor. Seven stories of in-the-dark awkwardness. Lord only knows why the lights go out in the elevator from time to time. I mean, this is Spain, but one would hope that basic security features of one's building would work. She turned on her cell phone to make it less strange, but I couldn't help but feel that something would go uncannily wrong. Needless to say, we made it up to our floor and here I sit typing my first blog. I figured it was about time to start telling you what life is like here.


I'm back in Badajoz after two and a half weeks of glorious Christmas break--something I thought I might never experience again after graduating a year ago. Nevertheless, I (above right) enjoyed two weeks of sleeping on the floor of my friend Betsy's (above center) London flat, then a few days with Erin (above left) in Algeciras, Spain. Two of our Italian friends, Michele and Enrico, came to visit us in Algeciras, and we took them to Gibraltar and to Tangier in Morocco. We saw the African apes on the rock of Gibraltar and gazed at Africa across the Straight. The next day we took a ferry over there and dined on cous cous and chicken tagine. The Italians passed me their wretched cold, so I've stayed in this weekend to recuperate and work on lesson planning.

My dad's coming to visit next week, so hopefully they'll fix the elevator so that it doesn't look like I live in a dump when he arrives. Hasta pronto!