Notes from the TEFL Graveyard

One of our number has posted the following video on YouTube. Despite the shaky camera work, we weren't in fact performing on the Portsmouth to Cherbourg ferry, but in an auditorium in Sorocaba, Brazil, days before our triumphant tour of Pomerania. NB The author reserves the right to delete any derogatory, defamatory, inflammatory or anti-Welsh comments that may ensue from the playing of the above clip.

We return triumphant. After what has to be one of the most amazing foreign trips of my TEFL-riddled lifetime, I am now safely back in small-town Brazil, weak limbed with jet lag, but with several songs on my brain, several Poles in my heart, and a sharp aftertaste of Żubrówka in my throat. It was an often tearful tour, such as when we arrived at our bed and breakfast establishment on the first night exhausted from our 14-hour journey and mustered what strength we had to sing a song for our hosts. Amid open weeping, I have to admit the emotion-charged atmosphere brought a tear to my eye, but that could have been due to the fact that I'd been supressing a bowel movement for the previous twenty-something hours. Another highlight was singing Lauridsen's O Magnum Mysterium in a room at Malbork Castle where choirs have been performing since the fifteenth century, but what will mark me always is the reception we received from our Polish counterparts, who were the most gracious of ...

This is my last post for a couple of weeks, as our male voice choir's voyage to Eastern Pomerania has finally been confirmed, and we fly out on Tuesday. Last night was our farewell concert, filmed by local TV stations and packed with second-class dignitaries. I think it's fair to say we went down a storm, rather than went down in a storm, much to the relief of the companies funding our musical mission. I have a feeling that the Poles will warm to the sheer joie de vivre of our group, comprised of, amongst others, a five-foot mathematician (useful for quick currency conversions), a psychotic paediatrician (useful for discouraging hypochondria) and a soloist with an ego (if not a voice) that could fill the Maracanã, who has refused to memorise the music and is in constant conflict with our brilliant but unpredictable choirmaster . Throw into the mix an unwitting Benny Hill impersonator , and we could justifiably be described as truly blessed . For those unable to attend, her...

Today, in order to practise the language of the green baize, I spent my morning lesson playing a game of poker with Seo Francisco and two of his managers. I cleaned the bastards out, fair and square . It may take years of legal wrangling, but I'm determined to get what I'm entitled to. No changing the rules just because I'm a Johnny Foreigner. Things don't work like that where I come from I explained as the security guards carried me to the gate . If anyone knows a good lawyer in São Paulo (preferably one that accepts Legal Aid cases) please break radio silence.

It's been a while since I last made a fool of myself at a school shindig, thank Mary mother of Jesus. Nowadays I'm resigned to playing the native speaker monkey to the school owner's organ grinder, sipping fruit juices and repeating to each student one by one that I'm not a yank, I'm British, that I'm from a small town on the south coast, near the Isle of Wight, which is famous for staging the rock festival that turned out to be one of Jimi Hendrix's last live performances, and no, I don't live in London, though I used to... By this time their eyes have normally glazed over, so I move on to the next questioneer eager to pursue their jumbled investigations. School parties are something of a double edged sword. Whilst they are great for promoting international harmony and inter-cultural experiences, the temptation is always there to really let loose and show the students that there's more to you than a comprehensive knowledge of non-defining relative ...