Week 1: April 2018 (Oh, What a Week)

After some flight confusion, the Valencian cohort made the best out of a bad situation (there was pizza involved) and, making the last leg of our journey on a coach, got to see the striking views of Spain – sea blended into sky, mountains misty and rising from the water – and have some much needed final bonding time with the other 14 people with whom, after just 4 days of training, we felt inexplicably close.

We walked into our central apartment, mouths agape at the huge kitchen (dishwasher and washing machine, yes please), balcony, and occasionally bizarre decorative choices – such as, for example, the room with a sparkly wall. Cue general photography and snapchatting, then we were off for some delicious “montaditos” and a walk in the luscious, verdant, buzzing park that winds through the heart of the city, where I now spend every possible moment (see flowery photo below).

                                                   Actual footage of flowers blowing my mind

Bridge in Turia Riverbed Park

One night’s sleep and Hollie and I – I’m lucky enough to be teaching in the same school as one of my flatmates – were off to Colegio Parque Santa Ana, a semi-private mixed school, and one of the biggest in Valencia. 

The school is huge – four floors and a maze of corridors – and when we finally find the staffroom we’re enveloped in hugs and kisses and whisked away on a tour of the school. To our delight, this includes the kindergarteners who greet us in their smocks with shy “hellos” and/ or blank stares. Our tour guide, Marta, even takes us to meet her three children, who study at the school (they are adorable but terrified of us). As we’re only timetabled to teach 12-17 year olds, we semi-cry at seeing these tiny people, and we’re soon going our separate ways to our first lessons.

                                           The entrance to our school (hence "Colegio Parque")

One thing I have learned about 14 year olds is that, though lovely individually, when mob mentality kicks in they have a tendency to be, as people in the noughties once said, too cool for school. This class was paradigmatic. As soon as I walked in, Ana, the teacher, gets me to stand at the front and introduce myself as if standing up and speaking in front of 30 unimpressed children was just a classic everyday occurrence (I later realise she is a teacher and this is her job). All wobbly smile and theatrical confidence, I expressed some short history of myself, after which Ana asked the kids if they had any questions for me – this was the introductory method in all of the classes, bringing varying degrees of success – and after an exhilarating “do you like Spain” “ooh yes it’s brilliant” exchange, they were on with the lesson. 

The students were fun – full of energy and chatty in a way that only Spaniards can be – and consequently loud as a brass band. From the start, it was clear that this was one of the biggest problems the teachers had to deal with. Moreover, the students all had different linguistic abilities, and in my second lesson I noticed that one student had a different workbook of a much lower level to cater to his needs. Not only was the attention given to this kid heart-warming, but the kindness of the students around him – they treated him exactly as they treated everyone else – was pretty wonderful to see.

For the first two days, the idea was to observe lessons to get to know the students see how teachers managed their classes. I mostly stood at the front of the classroom when the teacher was instructing, and walked around when students were doing exercises. By the third, I was giving occasional instructions and going through answers, and this was when I finally discovered the importance of stickers. You too may scoff at first, but when you’ve repeated instructions twice and physically told each child to start writing, they are straight up gold dust for getting kids to do the things they are supposed to be doing. To future teachers: take the leap.

                                                   Such sticker, many whimsy

One of the many wonderful things about Spain is the commitment to life beyond the walls of the classroom. In our school, when teachers realised that the kids had too much going on in their extra-curricular lives (music, sport, language classes) to be at school until 5pm, they changed the school hours to 8am-3pm. That people actually listen to the children a) I can’t imagine happening in the UK and b) literally melts my heart and can I live here please. Also, if the kids are free after 3, guess who else is? Cue beach trip...