tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post2748940623630703960..comments2023-10-31T08:52:55.991-03:00Comments on Notes from the TEFL Graveyard: SCHOPENHAUER, BOHEMIANS AND FARCICAL TITSM C Wardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-73094188449796102012008-04-18T10:58:00.000-03:002008-04-18T10:58:00.000-03:00It gets us all in the end, SBM! Teaching is fun an...It gets us all in the end, SBM! Teaching is fun and usually delightfully non-corporate, but there's a price to pay...<BR/><BR/>Interesting that your Ma's Welsh, I'm a rugby fanatic because of her side of the family. I used to play until I stopped growing.M C Wardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-29721682552204587642008-04-18T06:26:00.000-03:002008-04-18T06:26:00.000-03:00Yep, I never woke up till recently to the fact tha...Yep, I never woke up till recently to the fact that others plan their lives! Really, how dare they? By all accounts planning actually seems to work too! Although all that planning a good novel does not make.<BR/><BR/>I think I remember the day I decided to become a wandering English teacher (at least subconsciously) was careers’ day in 7th form (I think that is upper 6th in Britain). I went to a big law firm and observed that the most exiting thing about the place was the free morning tea. I sometimes wonder how my contemporaries felt on that visit, did they see something I didn’t?<BR/><BR/>While I was off acquainting myself with the diversions of the orient –my friends were looking for that career job, doing that extra year at university – planning the date of their OE to England in five years time. I used to think they were chumps when I was about 22, now I’m turning 30, single, broke and still teaching English, they have careers, partners and savings etc. Nah! wouldn’t have missed this for the world.<BR/><BR/>By the way, my mum is Welsh too.Well-lighted Shadowshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14123755129522724579noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-56169389974592214812008-03-18T12:19:00.000-03:002008-03-18T12:19:00.000-03:00I havn't had any of the personal experiences with ...I havn't had any of the personal experiences with Italians as you noted. However, I understand the "machismo" can be very strong and prevalent in the latin american countries. Have met and heard of many latin american men who think they are gods gift to women. Explaining to his wife how lucky she is that he is still staying with her after he had an affair with another woman....?!!! Obviously not all latin american men are like this but such rubbish is quite common.<BR/><A HREF="http://www.xxxonesize.com/free-huge-tits" REL="nofollow"> Free Huge Tits</A>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-34625460436517474582007-11-27T17:08:00.000-02:002007-11-27T17:08:00.000-02:00Thousands in Rome protest violence against women25...Thousands in Rome protest violence against women<BR/>25 November 2007 | 00:34 | FOCUS News Agency<BR/><BR/>According to organisers, more than 14 million Italian women are victims of physical, sexual or psychological violence over the course of their lives -- often committed by a family member or partner -- and 94 percent of cases are never reported, AFP reported. <BR/><BR/>http://www.focus-fen.net/index.php?id=n127948El Gringo Vascohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00610385214999226360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-48421575918795404672007-11-26T23:21:00.000-02:002007-11-26T23:21:00.000-02:00Trés bien, M. Le Prof - the truth is never wrong.B...Trés bien, M. Le Prof - the truth is never wrong.<BR/><BR/>Brother Boyo - one of the commonest comments I've heard as to why Italians like England is, "You can wear what you want." Must be a reaction to living under Mussolini, just sixty years ago. An English girl I once met had an Italian boyfriend from a small seaside town in the Abruzzo region, and she was virtually chased off the beach when she went there in a bikini. Apparently, it's only considered acceptable after a certain date - otherwise it's black clothing and a headscarf.M C Wardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-62525887687811908452007-11-26T18:42:00.000-02:002007-11-26T18:42:00.000-02:00A colleague had a very pleasant Italian girlfriend...A colleague had a very pleasant Italian girlfriend, and often visited her parents in Venice. He showed me a photo of her standing on a canal wearing black trousers and brown shoes. "I'm surprised the Policia di Moda didn't round her up," quipped I. "Quip not," he replied ruefully. "I'd rushed her out of the palazzo that morning to do something, and she'd had to throw on whatever was at hand. After taking this photo I had to accompany her to a boutique and buy a ridiculous number of shoes." Probably in pairs too, if Mrs Boyo is anything to go by.No Good Boyohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05859104068516964533noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-33478311178958204832007-11-26T17:56:00.000-02:002007-11-26T17:56:00.000-02:00An Italian girl once told me that English men were...An Italian girl once told me that English men were so unromantic compared to Italian men. When I pointed out that there's nothing romantic about professing undying love just to get someone into bed (Actually, the words I used were "They only say that because they want to fuck you"), she pointedly refused to speak to me ever again. Latin women seem to react this way whenever you confront them with reality.M. le Prof d'Anglaishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03146829935675093192noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-74054848538774416452007-11-25T23:29:00.000-02:002007-11-25T23:29:00.000-02:00I believe he was something of a mummy's boy, but w...I believe he was something of a mummy's boy, but whether that is proof is a moot point.M C Wardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-41412645286247714432007-11-25T17:15:00.000-02:002007-11-25T17:15:00.000-02:00I can remember, still, after all these years, bein...I can remember, still, after all these years, being chatted up by a German bloke on Bonn station. He spoke no English, and I no German, but that didn't stop him trying to get his todger up my ring-piece. After a while he got the gist of my conversation - that I was waiting for my girlfriend to arrive. That was total crap, actually, as I was just hanging around the station doing nothing in particular at 3. AM, as you like to do when you think you might be the next Jack Kerouac.<BR/><BR/>But wasn't he a sausage-jockey too?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-50975293926056756152007-11-25T15:36:00.000-02:002007-11-25T15:36:00.000-02:00Thanks for dropping by my blog. I too teach EFL he...Thanks for dropping by my blog. I too teach EFL here drop me a line.Hypersonichttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06047238167562731145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-73379710936398430832007-11-24T23:47:00.000-02:002007-11-24T23:47:00.000-02:00You make I laugh, you do. Nice one - I'd forgotten...You make I laugh, you do. Nice one - I'd forgotten the unwritten rule on dairy-based refreshment - I haven't been to my Tuscan estate in years. Linguistically hablando, I remove my headgear to you, sir - you are a true Renaissance Man, whatever that means. In my time I've been polysyllablic in Italian, French and Spanish, then I married a national of the only S American country that speaks Portuguese and started climbing yet another mountain. My problem is managing to speak more than one foreign language at once - as soon as I start learning a new one, the others seem to evaporate. I think I have limited space.M C Wardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-61459659759487269262007-11-24T15:21:00.000-02:002007-11-24T15:21:00.000-02:00There is nonetheless something endearing about the...There is nonetheless something endearing about the Italians' eagerness to conform while thinking their great individuals. My favourite airport moment was at Bologna, where an obviously Italian chap ambled up to the coffee bar and asked for a macchiato - at three in the afternoon. This violation of the no-milk-after-eleven rule stunned the Gaggia gorgon, who asked him thrice with an ever-increasing tone of incredulity whether that's what he wanted. Yes, he said, a macchiato. She turned to one of her three lolling lolita assistants and muttered "give him an espresso".<BR/><BR/>As you ask, I speak English, Welsh and Russian well, Ukrainian, German and French tolerably, and I get by in Italian, Polish and Spanish. I can also read Biblical Hebrew, to the hilarity of the Israeli shop-assistants I've tried but it out on. I salute your grasp of Portuguese; I got nowhere with it on our holiday to the Algarve, unless taxi-drivers and medronho-sellers were deliberately scorning me. Always possible.No Good Boyohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05859104068516964533noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-20629047981012088452007-11-24T13:37:00.000-02:002007-11-24T13:37:00.000-02:00Fine commentary, Herr Doktor - I wholly identify w...Fine commentary, Herr Doktor - I wholly identify with your conclusions. I remember seeing a haughty behatted Daily Mail reading old boiler at Milan airport sneering to her blonde blow-up doll of a daughter (who was draped around a swarthy Venetian at the time), "Well what do you expect? He's English", as if Italy remains the cradle of Western civilisation, with its wild gesticulations and exaggeratedly loud social communication. Bah humbug! How many languages/dialects do you speak, if it's not a rude question? I imagine it must be hard keeping count.M C Wardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09915316267943374795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-76629860297753433352007-11-24T09:22:00.000-02:002007-11-24T09:22:00.000-02:00That should be "weep". O tempora etc.That should be "weep". O tempora etc.No Good Boyohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05859104068516964533noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405679235603736635.post-12317568348135325542007-11-24T09:21:00.000-02:002007-11-24T09:21:00.000-02:00Travel broadens the mind, but understanding what t...Travel broadens the mind, but understanding what the foreign rabble are actually saying makes you fill out that UKIP membership form as quickly as you can moisten the green crayon with your foam-flecked lips. <BR/><BR/>A couple of years in Russia turned me from your identikit lefty student into the gimlet-eyed Cold Warrior I've remained ever since. <BR/><BR/>Three years in Central Asia and Azerbaijan, on the other hand, convinced me that the Communists may have had a point. <BR/><BR/>Ukraine seemed to click with me, and I grow fonder of it all the time. Maybe there's a foreign country out there for us all, it's just a matter of letting it find you. And it's never the one you studied at college. <BR/><BR/>Then there's the ghastly opposite reaction, namely "going native": the Oxford Russian student with his samovar and fur hat, and almost all Arabists for some reason that may be linked to public-school practices. <BR/><BR/>I've always enjoyed my time in Italy, but then no one has dared try to put the moves on Mrs Boyo, not even me. Ive noticed that Italian language students seem to earn the contempt of all TEFL teachers, largely for their uniformity of dress, childishness, preening self-regard and shallowness. How the Romans ended up like that is enough to make Spengler weap.No Good Boyohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05859104068516964533noreply@blogger.com