Now I’ve been teaching for 2 months, one to one beginner English, 4 days a week. It has been just enough to remember some of what I cram-learned in the four short but intense weeks of CELTA training.
Next week I start a classroom job on top of the one to one. I’m scared that I’ll have forgotten what and how to do it.
I remember when I was deciding whether to do an English degree or not I was sure that I would not end up being a teacher. I guess I was wrong!
I wrote this post in October, on my phone, conscious that the man behind was lening slightly foward as if to read what I was writing. I forgot to press post and saved it til later. I’ve just discoered it now…
I am on the bus into town, as we cross the toll bridge and round the corner I glance out of the window and see the mist rising over wytham woods. A line of small birds, indistinct from this distant, decorate the telegraph wires. In my ears Damon Albarn’s voice croons softly. I am on my way to becoming a EFL teacher. 4 weeks of this bus ride, 11 hour days, being both student and teacher in one day, I have been told to expect no social life for the duration of the course but am wondering whether to party like its halloween this weekend anyway. It is a complete contrast to the hell that I went through only a few short months ago. I am a new person, one with purpose and worth.