Moving Abroad
Time to up and leave. The job is organised and I’m off to pastures new. What the hell am I thinking – I’m leaving my family, friends, everything I’ve ever known. My travelling experience had previously been restricted to lying on a beach in a grubby, cheap Spanish holiday resort with nothing but a bottle of Amstel to keep me company. So what do I expect from this adventure?
The first thing was the feeling of having no responsibility. Leaving my native land behind with all the certainty, safety, the dull city centres and an overdose of capitalism had its pluses. I had nobody to tell me what to do, no brain achingly boring reports to be on anybody’s desk at 9am and absolutely no sleazy arse-weasel boss to tell me I had to work late.
So what if I don’t like it. I’ll just jump back home. I boarded the plane, waved goodbye to the teary eyed folks and set off to a country about which I knew nothing. I was met at the airport by the rep of the school. Actually, he was pretty helpful but the place was covered in snow. Hmmm should have done my homework on the climate. What I hadn’t realised is that the organisation of accommodation is ad hoc to put it politely (i.e. none). So I awoke the next day in my hotel/student dorm/hole still not really knowing where I was going. A short drive and we were in my city. No accommodation still. After visiting some flats which even made me blush, I settled on a reasonable place (with the “rep” still with me). “Hot water will be turned on soon” Soon? That means what exactly? Errr 2/3 days? Hmmmm again. Anyway, it was warm and I wasn’t sleeping in the snow so I had to take the positives.
The first night was a startling realisation that I had absolutely nothing to eat or drink, didn’t speak a word of the local language and had the prospect of my first lesson the next day. Was I in the mood to be laughed at by a bunch of foreign teens? Not really. Was I looking and feeling professional? Nuh uh. But was it the best decision of my life? I looked around the stark, stained, bare walls and sent a few texts home. Best decision? We’ll see but at least I don’t have to write that report for the arse-weasel……………
Tefl Badger Blog 
Good luck. What I mean is that you’re going to be fine, and you’ll love it. As long as your students know you’ve got their best interests at heart, they won’t mind if you can’t answer all their grammar questions. Most students care more about charisma than knowledge (sadly, for those lacking in the former :-s). Don’t hang around at expat bars or you’ll get cynical. Don’t read my blog for the same reason. Learn the local language. Don’t burn your bridges – you’ll miss your arse-weasel when you decide to go one day home and get stuck in TEFL. I look forward to reading you’re story. But it’d be nice to know where you are…
Like Medusa on heat, I couldn’t help but go straight to your blog and read it. Interesting blog about not liking teaching. Thanks for the advice and I’ll certainly put more up soon about the experience. I’ll try not to visit your blog in the future, but I’m not promising anything 😉 Agree regarding the charisma point. I’ll line up some Bond films as research………
Good luck on your adventures in teaching. I think you are already off to a good start by keeping a blog/journal and reflecting on your experiences. And another benefit in this journey is that while we often assume we know about our own language…when seeing it again and anew through the perspectives of learners, we discover our first language again in a whole new light…
Cheers. It’s certainly a new experience and soon I’ll post something on further experiences. It’s a breath of fresh air to do something totally different. We’ll see how it pans out. I’ll post an update soon. Thanks for the comment.