From the first day I arrived in Spain, I understood that I was going to need more vocabulary than "2 cervezas por favor". So during week two, I took some Spanish classes in the heart of the city. And then came D-day...
Monday morning, half past six. I'm lying in my bed when all of a sudden Dave Dee, Dozy, Beacky, Mick and Tich start singing "Bend it, bend it, just a little bit and take it easy...". I know I should take it easy. After all, classes only start at 10. But then again, when you have to commute for about one hour and a half, you can't take things easy.
Did you know that Madrid is the third largest city of Europe, after London and Berlin? Yeah. Neither did I. I mean, if you look it up on Google Maps, I only live a 30 minute drive away from the city centre. But somehow, from 12 till 16 February, I spent half of my day in the smelly, crowded Cercanías-trains from Alcalá de Henares to Madrid, stopping by each and every town and suburb. What's the point in calling the commuter rail "cercanías" if they take you so far away? I'm calling a vote for a new name!
Enough of the small talk and whining about public transport issues. I decided I will save you the story where I waited for over an hour to obtain my public transport card only to learn that I needed to make an appointment and wait a few days more. And the worst part : the woman at the office did not have anything else to do! And I thought the Belgian bureaucracy was bad... There, I whined about it after all!
So let's spread some positive vibes instead. After three days, I finally obtained my card and I was as free as a bird to explore the city. After classes, which already finished at 13h00, I went for tapas with my friends from the language academy or did some hipster food-tasting with the French assistant-teachers who showed me around in 'their' massive city. I even was invited to a fancy dinner at a truly delicious Japanese restaurant by some friends-from-friends who, just as all other Spanish people I met so far, turned out to be very warm-hearted people. So in case you read it: thank you, M. and S. Next round is on me!
The fact that my week at the Spanish Inhispania academy flew by so fast, means that I had fun. And meanwhile, I did some learning too: I must say that my Spanish improved impressively. I can't believe how fast things came back!
While during my first week, I felt like the Little Mermaid who just lost her voice (you know, you want to say something, but nothing comes out), after one week at Inhispania, I felt more like Sebastian the Crab, babbling away about the birds and the bees - and all in Spanish. But now that my classes are over, I feel like my Spanish is already fading again. I know I should practise every day, but it's quite hard considering that my job consists of teaching French and English...
Which brings me to D-day: my first day of teaching at my internship school in Alcalá. It's needless to say that I was extremely stressed out, especially when I did not have the printing code and my mentor wasn't around to show me how things worked. But I managed. I kept it cool and I played my part.
Because teaching is acting. It's freaking out inside but calmly smiling to your pupils. It's feeling insecure but acting like you're in charge. And with a little luck, your pupils - your public - might actually fall for it and enjoy your play and not throw tomatoes at you. Some might even go for a standing ovation at the end, which confirms your great performance. And they did...
After my first lesson, the pupils walked out of the class saying "thank you", which you should not take for granted here in Spain. But it get's better! Yesterday, at the end of a lesson, I said "thank you for your attention", and my pupils started applauding. But there's more! I hadn't finished my class and I needed five more minutes. So I told my pupils I would continue next class, but they were so eager to know how my class would end that they proposed that I finished my lesson, and they gave up their break so I could finish! Talking about an "encore"... And today, this sweet little girl who hadn't said a word during my class, came over to my desk to say "thank you for this fun class". Aww - I melted.
I won the public, that's one thing, but what about the art critic? They are every actor's fear. They don't laugh, even when they think it's funny. They are just sitting there, lurking at you in some dark corner, taking notes. Then, at the end of your 50-minute play, they say something but somehow keep their judgement to themselves. Then they disappear, because they are busy - they have other plays to attend to. And you did not get the chance to ask them if they liked it. And even if you did, would you dare? Because what if the answer is no? You decide to just wait for their review, because even though you are a fierce actor, you are a coward.
The next day, the critic publishes his review... You read it, but you don't know what to think. You ask yourself if a critic - by definition - has to criticise you. Or that perhaps it is forbidden for a critic to write positive things in order to live up to their feared image. Whatever the explanation, you need to know. So, you pull yourself together and go and see the critic. And then, you ask it.
"So.... Uhm.... Was it good?"
"Of course it was good. I just wrote down some points of improvement, that's all."
You're relieved, a little happy even. But at the same time, you're disappointed too, because why in this world must we always focus on the negative and forget to mention the good?
Spain, you will toughen me up. You remind me of arts academies: first you break, then you make. But what will you make of me?
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| Spanish classes @ Inhispania in Madrid |
