Jon Clarke likes to play with words, understand people, and vice-versa. He’s English, and this manifests itself through an uncontrollable desire to have a nice cup of tea whenever possible. Global wanderings have taken him all over the place, nodding and smiling in a variety of different incomprehensible situations. Currently working his way around Latin America, he’s getting involved with small businesses and organizations. Small is beautiful in Jon’s opinion, except when it comes to steak. If you want to know more about where he’s been, what he’s up to and what he thinks of it all, you can keep track via his Interweb diary-thingy, A Jolly Nice Outing.
Suddenly, with the fanfare of the end of term exams and the obligatory sugar-fueled party classes on the final Friday, I was no longer a teacher.
My semester had reached its conclusion. Memories still bounce around inside my skull of the final day, recorded with forensic precision in my personal journal. The smallest and roundest student from my 4 p.m. class, Nimsy, participated only partially in the “construct a mummy” race, standing in his giant heeled wheely shoes gazing with affection at the miniature doughnut in his hand as his team mate knelt at his feet, industriously wrapping them in toilet paper.
I was doused in tearful goodbye hugs by an unexpected and terrifying wall of early teenage female hormones as my 5 p.m. class said their farewells. My final 6 p.m. class brought its own bitter sweet conclusion, the highly dubious home-made money in the class game of poker ranging in value from $73 per note to an ambitious $100,000. All these are my treasured memories, but did my students get anything out of the hours that I invested teaching them English?
Beginnings
I came to Latin America in January 2009, arriving in the small town of Chiapa de Corzo in the rural state of Chiapas, Mexico. My Spanish was fairly embarrassing and I’d not been out of the UK longer than four months prior to the trip, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. To prevent a complete leap into the unknown, I’d booked onto a TEFL training course at the Dunham Institute, a language school and TEFL training centre in Chiapa de Corzo; following a successful graduation I’d continue as a teacher for the subsequent semester.
I was nervous by the time my first full day of classes arrived after getting my certificate, but ready. Confident in my ability to teach, I also already knew the kids and the community somewhat from the previous month. Deemed by the academic coordinator to be the best person to handle the beginner classes, I knew that some of my students wouldn’t speak a lick of English. Undaunted, I strode into the classroom on that first day, introduced myself to the selection of wide-eyed little faces and kicked things off with a wordless clapping game.
Progress
It’s difficult to see changes when you’re staring it in the face day to day. In English class, new topics were introduced, forgotten and reviewed as the weeks passed. Some students were naturally more capable than others. They soaked up every word I passed them, and jumped with reaching fingers on a raised hand every time I asked for a volunteer. Some just sat, and stared into space.
We moved slowly through games, exercises, progress tests and mid-terms. I left Chiapas for two weeks in Semana Santa to enjoy a break in the semester. When I came back, I realized with a degree of surprise that my students spoke English. Not the finely drilled sentences that march from the mouths of grammar-drones, but the shapeless verbal enthusiasm that tumbles from students without concern. Games were beset on all sides by shouting teams, yelling in…English! My tentative questions were no longer pre-empted by a hollow silence, but by naughty mouths beating their classmates to the answer in…English!
Endings
By the end of the term, there was no denying it. The silence of my classroom was a thing of the past. All barriers long since departed, my students clung to me on the last day and proclaimed their sorrow at my departure. That wasn’t the only thing affecting me; they were speaking to me in the language I’d been chipping away at as the days, weeks and months passed. Looking around the other classrooms, I wasn’t the only recipient of special treatment. All the teachers were receiving hugs from their classes and smiling warmly at the presentation of soft toys and cards festooned with the romantic heart-shaped stamp of glorious Mexican kitsch.
New beginnings
It’s a given that only a proportion of the students will ever use their English for anything useful. Some will give up, and never continue beyond the classes that I gave. Many of them will never leave Mexico, or take their language beyond the classroom. Some will use my lessons to pass exams in the state system to qualify for higher education. A few might even leave their country and travel or work abroad, grateful for the opportunity to be able to communicate.
But that’s not the enduring thing that sticks with me when I consider if the whole thing was worthwhile. I’ve seen my students go from nothing to the vibrant enthusiasm that comes with the successful beginning of a journey. Maybe further down the road, just one or two might use their English to get a job. They might start a business, or meet a future husband or wife, and the opportunity in their lives will have been brought about by my time and effort. Even though they will be few in number, that’s enough to make it worth it.
For more on teaching English in Latin America, check out these other posts by La Vida Idealist bloggers.
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