Reflections on my first week as an English teacher

What a long time it has been since I posted. I'm pleased to say this is because I've been really busy and haven't had much time for blogging. Also, I have discovered with blogging that, if I don't feel the urge to write, no blogs get written. It's a good thing I don't do this for a living. As a result of my lack of blogging, I've got lots of news to impart, but rather than do really boring "I did this...and then I did that...and then I did something else..." type posts, I'll do them by theme. They may still be really boring, of course, but at least they will be shorter!

As you know from a previous instalment, I applied for a voluntary teaching job with Reach Out Academy in Dokki, and was offered a paid job. I accepted the job and agreed to do 24 hours a week, over 3 days. I've just finished my first three days. These are my reflections.

I will never have to go through my first day as a teacher EVER AGAIN. I have done it. My first day as a teacher is over. Having had my first day as a teacher, all I can say to this is THANK GOD. I may have other first days in new jobs, but never again will it be my first day as a teacher. Honestly, I was petrified. I was given my schedule at the end of the training. This was it (note the past tense):

Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday

13:00 General English 5 (pre intermediate for the CELTA people reading)
15.00 General English 6
17.15 General English 5
19.30 General English 5

I had prepared. I spent HOURS (lots of capitalisation in this post but believe me, it's necessary) preparing. I diligently filled out my CELTA lesson plan (and I will have more to say on THIS in the future dear CELTA people!) I forgot, as I had a tendency to do on the CELTA course, that with pre-intermediate students, everything takes twice as long as you think it will. I wondered how on earth I was going to fill two hours. A better question to ask myself would have been, seriously? You really think that activity is only going to take that long? Sigh. Aside from that, quite honestly it's a bit of a blur now. I came home, went to bed, and slept solidly for 12 hours.

During the first day, I was asked if I would take another class at 11.00 on Tuesday as there had been a "teacher illness". I have since found out that this means "another teacher has left without any warning, and we're having to scrabble around like mad to find someone else". It was a Conversation class.

So off I went on Tuesday morning to teach 6 hours back to back with no breaks. I had spent far too long preparing (again) and agonising about my qualities as a teacher (again), but by the time I got to preparation for Conversation, I just could not be arsed. I wrote a brief schedule on a scrap of paper.

So many things are clear to me now that completely passed me by during the training. One of the other new (unqualified) teachers told the school that he only wanted to do Conversation classes. "Oh!" thought I. "I wonder why?" Older, wiser teachers will be chuckling to themselves now at how naive I am. Conversation is hugely, monumentally, MASSIVELY easier to teach than General English. I had been given four General English classes BECAUSE I'M QUALIFIED. Hardly anyone else is. So they're scared of General English. Too much grammar. Too much preparation. Too much actual teaching. Conversation classes? F*****g piece of p*ss. I'm not joking. I could teach a Conversation class with NO preparation. I won't. But I could.

After teaching for 10 hours on Tuesday, I was asked to take on the Conversation class permanently. I agreed, mainly because the first one was such good fun, and after the first class, one of the students asked if they could always have me because they loved me. Well who could possibly say no after that? I taught it again today and I honestly can't remember the last time I enjoyed my job so much.

That said, I do also love teaching General English. It's incredibly rewarding when you see the eyes of your students light up when they actually get something, or when you have a laugh with them. The problem is that by the time I've got to the third General English 5 class of the day, which is also the LAST class of the day, it's really quite difficult to drum up enthusiasm for present simple and present continuous tenses for daily routines and activities. I get up. I eat my breakfast. I go to college. I go home. I'm studying. I'm eating my dinner. I drink coffee. I drink more coffee. I drink strong coffee. There isn't enough caffeine in this coffee........I eat chocolate. You get the idea.

My feet are killing me though. I've discovered I'm not a sitting down teacher, which is something of a surprise, since I'm a natural couch potato. So after 10 hours on my feet with only two 15 minute breaks (the first of which happens after 6 hours of teaching), everything aches. Still, I only have to do three weeks of this and then I get week off.

Conversation 5's view on life

No doubt I'll have lots more to say about it all in future posts, but I'll end by saying this. I will earn in 3 weeks less than what I could earn in a day back in the UK, but in my 28 year career, I can't remember many hours as enjoyable and rewarding as the four hours I have spent this week teaching Conversation 5.          

Egypt is the perfect country for owls

It's 3am again. I'm on the balcony listening to the beautiful cacophony of the street dogs fighting. I have worked something out about Egypt that should have been obvious. Because it's so hot during the day, if you can postpone activities that require energy until later in the day when it's cooler, you do (hence the street dogs fighting at 3am I imagine). This is why Cairo is still alive all through the night, and most of the shops stay open until midnight at least. I really love this.  I often feel that morning people (larks) look down on evening people (owls) because they think we just can't get up in the morning. Whilst this may be true, one of my heroes, Gretchen Rubin, points out in her book Better Than Before that most of us are predisposed to be one or the other. I've got a fridge magnet that says "all the coffee in Columbia won't make me a morning person". I'm an owl. So in this respect at least, Cairo is pefect for me.

I am going somewhere with this, honest. I found an advertisement on Craigslist looking for volunteer English teachers, and I went today to see them. They offered me paid (paid!) employment. I still can't believe it now. I'm so happy about this. After how I felt yesterday, it was a huge boost to get the first job I was interviewed for. I'm pretty sure I'll take it after some reflection - the only drawback is that it's not close to where I live in Muqattam at all. But hey, I used to commute 2.5 hours a day to and from Manchester and I had to drive myself then. So, back to the owls and larks thing. This school opens at 11am. 11am! How civilised is that! For the first time in my working life I might have a job where the hours suit me. No more getting in last! Well that might be a tall order but when you're teaching you pretty much have to arrive on time I suppose. Once I've made my final decision on the job I'll let you all know. And I promise I won't base my decision purely on the fact that they open at 11am!

And on the subject of coffee, I STILL haven't found a coffee machine and am reduced to drinking instant! It's a nightmare.

I think another trip to Cairo Festival City Mall is required. Even if I can't find a coffee machine, I can get a hit in Starbuck's.

 

We've moved and everything is perfect! I wish.

Goodness me it's been 3 days since I posted. This is partly because of the moving, and partly because getting stable communications in the apartment has been rather trying. I've got a dongle though and whilst it's not quite up to BT Infinity standards of reliability and speed (I will never moan about BT again as long as I live), it will do for now. There is no broadband in the apartment because there is no phone line. This, like many other things in Egypt, seems quite hard to obtain. 

Anyway. I'm absolutely amazed to report that my blog posts have been read 577 times since I started posting. I started this blog mainly so I could keep all my friends up to date on my move to Cairo, as some of them either don't use Facebook or never look at it. So it fills me with delight that so many people have read it. It's also proving to be quite therapeutic for me, getting the trials and tribulations off my chest and sharing the triumphs.

I'd love to post that it's all fabulous, the move went without a hitch and our apartment is completely perfect, although you'd probably not believe me, because what in life does go like that? The truth is I have found these last three days a bit of a roller coaster. As some of you know, I have a trait called Sensory Processing Sensitivity, which basically means my senses are a bit - well - oversensitive. I do honestly wonder sometimes if I have bitten off more that I can chew with this move, because at the moment I feel in a constant state of sensory overload and completely overwhelmed. Naively, I thought that once we moved to the apartment everything would be fine, but of course that just presented a whole new set of challenges. Wonderful though my apartment is, there is a lot to do in it. There is air conditioning only in our bedroom and the lounge, but it can't be used in the lounge because at the moment it has no door. So with temperatures in the mid-forties these last few days, the choices are melt or stay in the bedroom. We also have no furniture in the lounge at the moment. The airconditioning from the flat above causes a flood on our terrace. A flood! Mind you I've put the lemon tree under it so I don't have to remember to water it. Every cloud...

On the plus side, I went to Carrefour at Cairo Fesitval City Mall and spent £430 on household items. Gosh it was such fun! Aside from my newly found skill of buying pillowcases which don't fit the pillows, I bought lots of really cool stuff, and some boring stuff too, but even that was good fun. I never knew buying spoons could be enjoyable. Of course, this is one of the best things about Carrefour - you can get all this stuff from the same shop. It's not actually particularly cheap, but it's certainly convenient and practically everything is in English as well as Arabic. Luckily, I had my two slaves with me who I had bribed with hot chocolate from Starbuck's. Mohamed has never been to Starbuck's, so I managed to introduce him to something in his own country.

Mohamed and Baha in Carrefour

I constantly feel drawn to Cairo Festival City Mall. I think it's because it's so similar to what I'm used to, it means I don't have to think about what I'm doing. I don't think I underestimated how hard this move was going to be, and god knows I did enough research to prepare myself, but it is hard, I can't deny it. The simplest things have become difficult. It would be so easy to stay in the apartment and not try doing hard stuff (which used to be easy), but then I would just become a prisoner in the apartment. 

The other problem is I feel under constant pressure from all sides (including myself) not to admit how bad I sometimes feel. I don't want A and Mohamed to think that I don't want to be with them, because nothing could be further from the truth. I don't want to tell my family and friends because I know they are already worried and I really don't want to make them worry more. But dear god how I miss them all. This is why the connectivity issues are such a problem, because not being able to WhatsApp my Mum, my sister, my closest friends, plunges me into a disproportionate downward spiral of despair. I can say with certainty that I really did not appreciate how good our WiFi is in the UK until now.

I read this post again 24 hours later, with the intention of deleting most of it. I wrote it at 3am when I couldn't sleep and things felt too overwhelming. I've decided to leave it as it is and post it even though it's difficult. And, what a difference a day makes as someone once said. In the interests of not making this post too long, I'll save my news for my next post although those of you on Facebook will already know it by now. Oh ok I'll tell you - I've got a job!

Cairo at 6am is actually quiet

View down Talaat Harb

We're still not in the apartment, although it's looking more imminent now there is air conditioning in the main bedroom and the lounge. We also have a fridge and a washing machine apparently. We might even be moving today. In the meantime, we're still in the hostel. Being a chronic insomniac, I was awake at 6am this morning, which gave me the opportunity to see Cairo start to come alive. I think Talaat Harb was the quietest I've ever seen it, it was weird. I could feel the heat building up every minute I stood there.

 
In other news, I've got a meeting tomorrow with an NGO for voluntary work. I can't do paid work at the moment as I don't have a work permit, so I'm really pleased about this. Although I actually applied for an English teaching position, it seems my HR and general business experience might also be useful. I'll keep you posted on developments.

And the other thing I've done is found an Arabic tutor. I debated about finding a class as this would give me more "authentic practice" to use foreign language teacher parlance, but in fact as I'm now in the country, practice isn't going to be hard to come by. As it happens I've also found a weekly Arabic conversation class that starts in September so I'm going to go to that too. I reckon there's no such thing as too much practice in a new language.

These language developments are really important, because every day that goes by makes me realise how vital it is to learn Arabic. I went to the baker yesterday to buy some croissants. I was reminded of an experience I had in Romania many years ago, where we just couldn't work out how the shops worked. It's the same here. I had to stand there like a lemon watching what other people were doing to work out what was going on. It turns out you go to the counter, say what you want, pay for it, you get a ticket and then go to another counter to pick up what you bought. This presents a problem when you haven't got a clue what to ask for, so I ended up buying the thing that was closest to me (i.e. pointing distance) and buying that - which was chocolate croissants. Now I'm certainly not averse to a good chocolate croissant, but the problem in 42 degree heat is that by the time you've walked the 3 minutes back to the hostel, all the chocolate has melted. It was absolutely gorgeous but oh my god what a mess! Chocolate sauce EVERYWHERE. I probably looked like a toddler. Thankfully, no-one with a camera was around at the time.

Just to confuse matters, apparently not all shops work like this, so the lesson is, it will all be much easier when I can ask for what I want!

Familiarity breeds reassurance

As an antidote to feeling like an alien, I decided I needed a dose of British-ness. So the thing to do was to go to Marks and Spencer, obviously! You can't get much more British than that. Prior to moving here I had worked out that there was an M&S somewhere in Cairo, and sure enough, there are actually three according to the M&S Egypt website. I asked my husband (who, henceforth, shall be called A) to get me a driver, and off I went to Cairo Fesitval City Mall. 

Well, I might just as well have been in the Trafford Centre. I could have been anywhere, it was completely anonymous and about as unlike the Cairo I know and love as you could get. As I came out of the car park, there was Starbuck's right in front of me. Failing entirely to change the habits of a long time, I went straight in and bought a coffee. It was the first decent coffee I've had since I got here (I realise 'decent' is an entirely subjective word in this context and one of my close friends will be shrieking in horror now) and I enjoyed it immensely. I also enjoyed the biggest croissant I have ever seen in my life.

I went to find M&S, and wandered round it for ages thinking that it was just like M&S in the UK, although I can't imagine why it wouldn't be. Having done M&S I then found, amongst others, Debenham's, Accessorize, The Body Shop, Claire's Accessories, and Virgin Megastore. There's also a huge IKEA. It all turned out to be extremely important for me, as a reminder that I don't actually like shopping. For me, it's just as life sapping in Cairo Festival City Mall as it is in the Trafford Centre. I had agreed with the driver that he would pick me up in two hours, but after the M&S trip and some boring purchases (sheets), I'd had enough. Still 45 minutes until the driver comes. Now what?

Luckily, I found a Carrefour hypermarket. Well, what an incredible shop. It's got everything, including Cadbury's chocolate and Head and Shoulders shampoo (I don't have dandruff, just healthy, shiny hair...) and Maltezers. Any time I feel like I need something British, this French hypermarket will be just the place to go.

With the exception of Carrefour for maltezers, I can't see me visiting the mall all that much, because, as I mentioned, I don't like shopping. I also don't want to be the kind of expat who completely fails to integrate into the culture and society and only shops in British shops. I have to say though that in these early days, it is strangely reassuring to find shops that I hardly ever went to in the UK. Well, apart from M&S which I did go to now and again. I suppose it's a bit like a security blanket.      

I also know where to go if I need a dose of bland, homogenous Western commercialism.

* Message to Nicky Oliver, my hairdresser - I promise not to use Head and Shoulders.....

 

Why I Love Egyptians (part 1)

It's been exciting here in Cairo this week, because the new sections of the Suez Canal have been opened by President Al Sisi, two years early. The celebrations have been building up all week and there are lights, decorations and flags everywhere. Flag sellers abound; even the Palestinian children who are currently staying in the hostel have small Egyptian flags, and our own apartment block is decorated with lights. Horses and camels even trotted down Talaat Harb last night, in a sort of mini-parade, and everyone is going to Tahrir Square to celebrate.

It's infectious. I feel pretty excited myself. Egypt is, relative to Western Europe, a poor country, and has also suffered devastating political turmoil since the revolution in 2011 (and for many years prior to that, arguably). Despite this, all the Egyptians I have met over the years are proud to be Egyptian and feel a sense of national pride that the country has achieved this incredible success with the canal. I really can't think of anything like this that could happen in the UK that would generate this kind of enthusiasm and national pride. The Royal Wedding?

I know the nuances and layers of Egyptian culture and society are still a mystery to me, and I might be being naive. I can't help but feel though that the enthusiasm and celebrations for the opening of the canal and the national pride it has generated isn't like the insular nationalism I've seen taking a foothold in the UK in recent years. It is just pride in the achievements of a nation and it has given everyone a boost. I'm happy to be here and be part of it. Sleep is looking unlikely tonight though since the whole of Egypt seems to be going down Talaat Harb to get to Tahrir Square - very noisily!

I'm in meltdown - literally and figuratively

Three posts in as many days! I can't promise this level of productivity in the future. One day I might actually get a job.

Anyway. I've had my first figurative meltdown. I say first, because I'm sure there will be more. It happened because we didn't go to see our apartment as planned. I managed to turn this seemingly small occurence into a crisis of enormous proportions. With the benefit of hindsight, this is because I feel displaced. At the end of May I left the home I had lived in for 20 years, and since then I have lived with friends and family. Now I'm in the hostel owned by my husband. We haven't moved into the apartment yet because the air conditioning isn't properly installed, and if you've read my previous posts you'll understand why this might present a problem. 

Although I used the word homeless last night in a fit of emotion, it's the wrong word, because I know I have a home. It's just that I'm not in it yet. I feel as if I'm in limbo, hence the word 'displaced'. It's a revelation to discover how important this is to me after taking it for granted since the age of 22. I want to hang up the stained glass Celtic cross given to me by my sister. I want to put my books on the bookshelves. I want to put my clothes in the wardrobes. I want to buy things for my new home. There's nothing wrong with the hostel, as hostels go it's a great hostel. It just isn't my home. 

My new Egyptian family, although incredibly supportive and sympathetic, simply can't understand what this is like; they have never lived anywhere other than Cairo. So while I was sitting on the bathroom floor last night being pathetic, I Facebook-messenger-ed someone who has become an extraordinary friend, and who also moved abroad for love. I said - did you have moments when you thought what the **** have I done? She said yes. She asked if I needed a Kleenex. I said yes, but I don't even know how to ask for Kleenex! (Turns out it's still Kleenex - ah the power of branding). She told me about a freak out she'd had about rice. It made me laugh. It made me realise how incredibly lucky I am because I have so many wonderful friends, and thanks to social media they are only a click away. Again I am reminded that I couldn't do this without social media, so thank you Mark Zuckerberg.

She also said tomorrow is another day, and sure enough it is - visited the apartment today and all is well with the world. Until the next meltdown of course.

 

It's not just Brits who moan about the weather

After almost dying of heatstroke on Monday when I went to the British Embassy (which, as I may have mentioned, turned out to be unnecessary) and then getting lost on the way back, it's a surprise to discover that Egyptians think it's really hot too. And it is really, really really hot. Although thankfully it isn't particulary humid in Cairo, there's no getting away from the fact that it's 42 degrees. 

As a Brit, moaning about the weather is a national hobby. So much so that when I was studying my Teaching Business English course, I had to do a lesson plan for some imaginary Japanese businessmen that included small talk. Obviously, the first topic of acceptable small talk was the weather. I always thought that this was because Britain is an island in northern Europe, and as a result the weather can plummet 10 degrees in the space of 24 hours (or less), with bright sunshine one minute and lashing rain the next. In other words, there are many changes to the weather to discuss in detail; many comparisons to be made with last week, last year and when we were children; and many predictions to be made about what the weather will be like in five minutes, tomorrow and at any time in the future.  

It transpires though that weather can be discussed at length even when the conversation goes something like this:

"It's so hot". 
"Yes. I think it's hotter than yesterday". 
"Apparently it's still going to be hot tomorrow". 
"Really? I was hoping it wouldn't be so hot".
"No, the weather forecast said several more days like this".
"Oh. Still hot then".

I'm really not joking. When, to me, there is no discernible difference between one day and the next, I can only conclude that it's human nature to moan about the weather. I'm strangely pleased about this. It makes me feel less like an outsider. Ahram Online, the Egyptian English language news website, even commented that "Egypt usually witnesses hot weather during this period of the year". You don't say. To be fair, they do go on to say that it is apparently hotter than normal. To a Scottish redhead though, there's not much difference between 42 degrees and 45 degrees. It's just ******* hot. Still - life as an expat is full of new experiences. I had the first intentional cold shower of my entire life after my pointless (have I said that before?) trip to the British Embassy.

I've lost my identity - oh no it's ok, I've found it again

Two days ago, I moved to Cairo from the UK. Over the course of the last two days, and the preceding six months, I have come to realise something about myself - I'm not a natural expat. In fact, I'm not an expat at all. Those of you who know me will not be surprised to hear that I've been searching for the right word. Expat? Migrant? Emigrant? Well, I've looked in the dictionary, and I'm not any of those. Synonyms for expat include refugee, wayfarer(?) alien and pilgrim (snort!). I'm pretty sure I'm not any of those either. So I don't know what I am any more. It's a strange place to be, I can tell you.

Many, many people have commented on how brave I am and what an adventure it's going to be, what a huge risk I'm taking, how exciting it is. I don't feel brave. I did what I had to do. You see, I moved abroad for love. I didn't choose this, it chose me. Don't get me wrong - I love Egypt and I love Cairo (more on that later) but I have nothing but total admiration for people who move from job to job, country to country on a regular basis because I now know for sure that I couldn't do it. If I hadn't met my Egyptian partner, I would still be in the UK. Cairo is now my home, and if for any reason I decide that Cairo isn't my home, I'll be going back to the UK. Moving out of the UK is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and if modern social media didn't exist, I wouldn't have done it.  

I went to the British Embassy today to register that I'm in the country (turns out this isn't actually necessary) and I got lost on the way back. Nothing could have highlighted to me more clearly that I now live somewhere foreign. Not even my own language, which is probably one of my greatest strengths, was of any use to me. When you're trying to explain to someone where you are, not being able to read the street signs is a bit of a drawback. As is not having enough credit on your phone - and at this juncture I would like to apologise to Mohamed, my step son, for the anxiety caused by ringing him, shrieking "I'm lost!!!" and then immediately getting cut off. A friendly young man obviously recognised my "lost foreigner" look (and no doubt my beetroot face) and kindly walked me back to my abode. Sigh. 

The day was rescued when I managed to buy some toothpaste (Colgate!) and also some chips (sorry but I just CANNOT call them fries) in MacDonalds. I consider these to be major achievements. On my extremely circuitous route back I also saw a KFC and a Pizza Hut. Whilst I'm not usually in favour of the homogenisation of the world, it's amazing how reassuring the sight of these things is - regardless of the fact that I haven't set foot in a fast food joint in the UK for several years.   

So, I have left behind a number of identities in the UK and no doubt I will acquire some new ones here in Cairo (in addition to "lost foreigner"). In the meantime, all the things that make me me are still here. My closest friend did a word cloud for me before I left and this gives me immense comfort now, because regardless of the identities I have lost and will gain, this is who I am. So this is dedicated to her. She knows who she is.