CRAPPERS - AN INSPIRATION
My heart has felt the warmth that is sympathetic joy this past few days after I got back in touch with ex-TEFL cellmate Crappers, (aka Scream, a moniker derived from his passing resemblance to the subject of Edvard Munch's masterpiece, due to his despairing state of mind, which I suspect was largely TEFL-induced), whom I was delighted to discover has wed, procreated twice, producing two enchanting offspring, and is now living it large up London. It was he that rescued me from the bouncer's bed and watched with a mixture of horror and amusement as I ate a mini pizza that I'd recently dropped on my shoe.
Judging by his showreel, if his name isn't in lights yet, they're certainly ordering a gross of bulbs. I last saw him in the late nineties, when he suddenly broke ranks and left to do some kind of degree in arty stuff - and look where he is now. Clearly it helps to be lavishly talented, but even so.
Living proof that there is life beyond TEFL. I've surmised that, in order to have anything normal people regard as a career, you need to stop doing easy things that everybody (thinks they) can do (which depresses wages and those receiving them) and learn something difficult that fewer people can do. Every bugger and their window cleaner thinks they can teach English, and as the students are generally clueless, they don't know the difference anyway. A fellow choirsinger recently told me he'd found a course for R$ 25.00 per month! I try to charge that per hour, to stave off the worst of malnutrition.
When our Polish visitors were here recently, I was informed there would be a young man from the local town hall accompanying us. "Don't worry," I was told confidently, "he speaks fluent English."
"I am pooblic hellations for the Major," he stammered by way of introduction, prompting confused glances to be exchanged between the Eastern Europeans, who clearly believed, as I did, that Brazil's military dictatorship ended over twenty years ago. I should be cleaning up around here, for pity's sake.
But I digress from the cheer it gave me to see young Crappers making headway, rather than teaching it, again, for the fortieth time this week.
You, sir, are an inspiration and I salute you!
PS If you need any kind of representative/agent/salesman/cleaner in the Andean region, I'm more than available.
Judging by his showreel, if his name isn't in lights yet, they're certainly ordering a gross of bulbs. I last saw him in the late nineties, when he suddenly broke ranks and left to do some kind of degree in arty stuff - and look where he is now. Clearly it helps to be lavishly talented, but even so.
Living proof that there is life beyond TEFL. I've surmised that, in order to have anything normal people regard as a career, you need to stop doing easy things that everybody (thinks they) can do (which depresses wages and those receiving them) and learn something difficult that fewer people can do. Every bugger and their window cleaner thinks they can teach English, and as the students are generally clueless, they don't know the difference anyway. A fellow choirsinger recently told me he'd found a course for R$ 25.00 per month! I try to charge that per hour, to stave off the worst of malnutrition.
When our Polish visitors were here recently, I was informed there would be a young man from the local town hall accompanying us. "Don't worry," I was told confidently, "he speaks fluent English."
"I am pooblic hellations for the Major," he stammered by way of introduction, prompting confused glances to be exchanged between the Eastern Europeans, who clearly believed, as I did, that Brazil's military dictatorship ended over twenty years ago. I should be cleaning up around here, for pity's sake.
But I digress from the cheer it gave me to see young Crappers making headway, rather than teaching it, again, for the fortieth time this week.
You, sir, are an inspiration and I salute you!
PS If you need any kind of representative/agent/salesman/cleaner in the Andean region, I'm more than available.
12 Comments:
I couldn't teach English! As I've mentioned before and quite often . . . . I went to a minor comprehensive . . . I'm not even sure if I'm allowed out of the country . . .
Sx
Oh, come now, you could. Even blondes can teach English.
I haven't yet been able to access your friend's "showreel", MC; it must be pretty good though if it's anything to do with Steve McQuen.
Don't worry Scarlet, the comprehensive I went to has now been closed down - it's like my childhood never happened.
My old school only welcomes those with 'special needs' these days . . . ?!
Sx
P.S No blonde jokes Mr Ward or you will receive a sound spanking.
Glad to hear you got back in touch with your mate, there are so many classic characters in this job - so many I´ve lost touch with or just don´t write.
I´ve been thinking lately and would appreciate your thoughts - given our lowly status, can we be considered working class? Labourers of the tongue? What about a worldwide union, the world needs, and will continue to need...us!
I too can't get at this showreel. Is it a test of initiative like Steve would have set himself?
I have taught Armenian and Russian to considerable financial but little pedagogical advantage, and admire anyone who can teach a language so that their charges end up able to converse without provoking bar fights.
See look . . . now I've had to look up pedagogic . . . you lot are going to start charging me for all these English lessons . . .
Sx
I aspire to be working class in my current country, Spain, but for now am regarded as a boat person from the wrong direction.
Just wait until someone lets the cat out of the bag and people start to realize that they don't really need a "native" speaker to teach them English.
I'm thinking of a career change, something safer like raising fighting dogs.
Mr Ward - as I pointed out recently on my own tattered apology for a blog, "In Asia, being from Dudley is exotic". And unusually, I did the sappy thing of qualifying in TEFL before attempting to do any teaching, lacking as I did Boyo's flair and chutzpah.
Scarlet - you would have been viewed by many of my students - like 'all the male ones' - as a striking improvement on me.
I'm sorry Gyppo, I would be rubbish . . . I've re-read my last comment . . . I did look it up . . . but for the life of me I can't remember what 'pedagogic' means . . . hang on . . . was it something to do with training . . .?
Sx
Bugger Me I'm famous! Mr Ward, very kind words indeed! And for those who can't access my showreel, you're not missing much! It's mostly me selling my soul for a few quid. It was only a matter of time before I had to find something I could really do! In 5 or was it 7 years of teaching (those years are mostly a panicky blank), I'm not aware that anyone learned anything from my lessons other than not to look at an Englishman in the eye on a friday or saturday night, unless they wanted a fight. The only reason I got on and found something I was quite good, as oppossed to absolutely rubbish at, is a)my now wife, and b)Our friend D.E. who has many Yoda like qualities, both in wisdom and appearance, who gave me some very good advice.
Anyhows Matt this is now a regular stop on my morning interweb trawl, as it really is very good writing. But you know that already...or you bloody well should.
Good that you've been dragged into the blogalaxy, PC. I see you've started your own virtual life, thus joining the slippery slope like the rest of us. There is no escape.
I don't know why people can't access your showreel - I did, and I haven't any regrets at all.
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