CONFESSIONS OF A SPANISH TEACHER

THE WIDOWER/ EL VIUDO

Being a Spanish teacher has an effect on your social life. When you go out in company of Ex Pats and they find out you teach Spanish they do one of two things. They may become defensive and obviously uncomfortable about their own level of Spanish as they have maybe lived here for years and never bothered trying to learn. Failing that, if they are keen to learn they therefore start speaking to me in Spanish wanting to take the rare opportunity to practice what they have learned. Unfortunately although they live in Spain they probably live in an area inhabited by Ex Pats and rarely use it, which is a shame.

However, I prefer the first kind for a couple of reasons. Firstly if I am not working I do not really want to speak in Spanish as I am relaxing and no one wants to be reminded of work in their spare time. I sympathise with doctors who go to parties and are shown rashes or asked what this or that pain means as soon as they divulge what they do. Secondly if I am out and drinking I am the opposite of my students who normally say after a drink or two they have more confidence and feel more relaxed in speaking.

For me is the contrary. After a few drinks and I start to relax I have no interest in speaking Spanish (unless with Spaniards of course), I just want to socialise without thinking too hard. Also I feel that I can never really let my hair down when people know I am a teacher, I always feel I should behave in a certain way especially if I bump into parents of students! As the Ex Pat community is a small one here I very often encounter students past and present when I am out, and when it is the early hours of the morning in some late night bar I can only hope they are letting their hair down too.

This is how I “met” the widower Michael. Michael had been a student of mine a couple of years earlier along with his wife Tina. He had not done many classes, she had stayed longer, as he was working and many times he could not make it. I remembered him particularly as he was an attractive guy but I also remembered that his wife was a very nice woman.

So there I was, approximately 2 a.m in a late bar after many vodkas and really quite drunk. I didnt even see him coming, but suddenly he was by my side at the bar fixing me with the stare I remembered unsettling me so much in class. Luckily he was drunk too.

“Hello. Do you remember me”. He was from Northern Ireland and he rasped the question in that deep sultry voice all the men from there seem to have .

“Yes of course. It´s Michael isn´t it?” I answered trying to put on my sensible head and actually put a coherent sentence together.

“How´s your wife?” I cast through the vodka fog for her name but couldn´t get it, I was just trying to make some polite conversation and not let slip I was in fact extremely drunk. Not at all appropriate for a teacher.

“She´s dead…”

Ah.. Shit…. A couple of excruciating minutes followed while I wondered what the hell to say next…

“Ah I´m sorry. What happened?” was the pathetic question I managed.

“Cancer…”

Double shit…

I really wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. Maybe it helped us both being drunk as we did move on from that and in fact we started to go out together for a good few months.

I really liked Michael but unfortunately I did get to understand where the phrase the Merry Widower comes from as it transpired that Michael was in fact seeing several women to help him recover from losing poor Tina. Ah well, the one that got away- again

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elprincipecentre/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elprincipecentre/
Twitter: @PrincipeCentre
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCm38MRBMVXrV6JblhmQ7xOg

50 SHADES OF SPANISH / 50 SOMBRAS DE ESPAÑOL

Being a Spanish teacher, or probably any kind of teacher, attracts admirers. I am not vain enough to think it is my stunning good looks or sparkling personality, just a kind of teacher/student fantasy that many men harbour from schooldays. They make jokes about detentions and canes and punishments as if no one has ever made them before. As I teach mainly adults, this has caused problems at times over the 20 years I have been teaching. Some have been more welcome than others.

These sort of men are normally married or in some kind of relationship, and usually I’m afraid not the sort of man that my fantasies are made of, but this doesn’t seem to bother them. They normally come with partners who think they are some kind of love god and any woman would consider herself lucky to be propositioned by them, therefore it must the “lucky” woman’s fault if their man is lead astray. Hmm, have never really understood that. Personally I find it awkward and insulting,

One very unwelcome one was Charlie. Charlie was married to Christine. He hadn’t even been for classes yet when he took some kind of shine to me. As we had mutual friends we were occasionally in social situations together. He was a nice enough guy but about as far removed from Brad Pitt or Idris Elba, my own personal fantasy men, as you could imagine. It started with uncomfortable staring, then threats to come for Spanish classes one day, as if that was all I was really waiting for in my life. I must give off some very strange signals as I swear I do not remember flirting with this guy in any way shape or form.

It came to a head one night at a party. It started as we were all having drinks and I had to walk past him. “Oh sorry” I apologised as I thought I had accidentally brushed his hand with my backside as I walked past. I soon realised as his hand then continued to give my “culo” a massage this had not quite been the case.

When situations like this happen, what you really want to do is slap them across the face and deliver a few choice words. What you end up doing normally is nothing, because you don´t want to cause a scene and their wife and all your friends are right there…

As we all sat in the restaurant eating it was worse. Every time I looked up he was staring at me intently with quite a scary leering expression. I got up to go to the toilet and he followed me and whispered in my ear “I´ll be coming for Spanish classes soon”. Again, like it was some tantalizing secret we shared, but unfortunately I wasn’t quite in on it. I just smiled weakly. I knew I was supposed to feel privileged about this in some way but somehow I just was not feeling it. Was I missing something?

After the meal we went to another bar and I just tried to keep away from him, as the alcohol was flowing and I knew this was likely to A. increase the chances of him doing something else, and B. increase the chances of me punching him in the face. Deciding I did not want either of these to happen, and aware that his wife Christine, was jealously watching every more he made, I simply kept my distance.

All seemed uneventful until home time. I was chatting with a friend when suddenly he appeared at my ear, taking advantage of the fact his wife was distracted for a moment saying goodbye to someone else. He leant over with that same intent, leering expression he had been wearing all night and whispered slowly:

“Just imagine being tied up, blindfolded and licked all over…”

My jaw dropped open and all I could manage to say weakly was

“Er… what?”

At that moment I was saved as Christine appeared and practically dragged him off by the ear making some comment to me that I don´t even want to repeat.

As a friend commented later, maybe due to fact I would have been wearing a blindfold, it would not have been so bad…..??

Charlie did eventually come for classes and in fact behaved impeccably, so luckily I never actually got to find out.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

GYNECOLOGY SPANISH STYLE/ GINECOLGOGÍA ESPAÑOLA

Spain is a world leader in many medical procedures, and I think many people who have had treatment here would agree that if you have to be ill anywhere, you have a better chance of recovery in Spain than in many places. For medical care, you would be struggling to complain, but unfortunately for the “TLC” or tender loving care factor along with bedside manner maybe not… Friends and family are expected to do that, medical care is exemplary but that is as far as it goes.

Another thing that has become apparent to me over years of interpreting and personal and family use of the Health Service here in Spain is that privacy and personal dignity is not always respected.

Doors are often left open while examinations take place, allowing people sitting outside to gawp in. If the door is closed, staff often enter and leave the room without knocking, or consultants have inappropriate conversations with colleagues over the heads of patients. These are all things I have seen many times.

But I think the worst thing I saw was when I took Miriam to visit the gynecologist.

Miriam was quite a timid lady, and I would imagine it was embarrassing enough to have to take a virtual stranger along to interpret at a very personal examination. At least I was a female and I always was very discreet, but it must have been difficult for her still.

The Consultant was fortunately female also, and all went well as Miriam was required to undress from the waist down and lie down on the bed with her feet in the customary stirrups.

The Doctor donned a pair of latex gloves and the examination began. She was asking questions that I was relaying to Miriam, and then back to the Doctor with the answers. The Doctors right hand was fully inserted in Miriam´s private area.

Suddenly, a phone rang…

It was the Doctors mobile which was on the desk next to the table.

The Doctor looked at it to see who was calling..

I figured it must be something very urgent as, incredibly, the doctor slowly extricated her hand from Miriam`s fandango and gingerly picked up the mobile, without removing the latex gloves she was wearing. Holding it with fingertips only, she pressed the button, and held it precariously to her ear.

“Hola hijo”- she said, which to those of you who don’ t know meant “hello son”.

A five-minute long conversation ensued which dealt mainly with what she was going to collect from the supermarket on the way home to cook for lunch… Maybe not quite as urgent as I had assumed…

During this time poor Miriam lay legs akimbo and I tried to look anywhere else in the room.

Lunch menu sorted, the Consultant replaced the phone on the table, reinserted her right hand into Miriam’ s private area, and completed the examination.

I just presume and hope she did get a baby wipe or something similar to clean the mobile later…

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

MÉDICOS Y PRESERVATIVOS / DOCTORS AND CONDOMS

MÉDICOS Y PRESERVATIVOS / DOCTORS AND CONDOMS

When I first came to my part of Spain 20 years ago, tt was largely undiscovered by tourists, and my little village was even smaller than it is now, only having approximately 1,500 people on the electoral roll. It was in fact really bigger than that as many foreigners lived here in the surrounding “urbanizaciones” but were largely unregistered in those days. Later the building boom and the growing awareness and massive influx of “guiris”, (foreigners) would change this.

But then the Health Centre here was ran by two “old school” doctors, one of which in particular, Doctor Garcia I got to know quite well as I was offering an interpreter service and I took many people to see him. So many that he even started to take me out on his house calls if they were British, though looking back this was probably against the rules.

He had a lovely dead pan sense of humour, and as an interpreter true to my word I had to repeat many a strange question to him, to which he would simply arch an eyebrow and reply expressionlessly.

I think many “more mature” people then simply didn’t realise that Spain was not a Third World Country and indeed you were given hospital meals and they did have modern technology not use leeches on you to cure everything.

I think the most memorable appointment for me was the day I took Doris. Doris was well into her 70’s if not 80’s, and her husband Gerry the same. One thing I have learned about medical interpreting is that often during the consultation you almost become invisible and part of the scenery like a nurse.

People, male or female, happily strip off in front of you without drawing the curtain and of course they have to tell you all the gory details of their condition. Part of the reason I was so determined to learn Spanish when I came here was that I did not want to ever have to go to the doctors for a personal type of illness and have to relate it through a third party.

Doris´s problem was quite personal. She related it to me while we sat waiting to be called.

Sexual intercourse with Gerry had become a little uncomfortable and could be followed by mild blood spotting …

Ok.

In we went and I related Doris´s problem to Doctor Garcia, I was embarrassed and blushing but Doris was totally unfazed:

“Tell him as well, I have no idea why this is happening because my husband Gerry is not very big…”

I duly reported what she had asked and Dr Garcia’s face was impassive.

The recommended treatment was KY Jelly and some special condoms.

I explained this to Doris and her last question was:

“Ask him who puts the condom on, me or Gerry?”

This time Dr Garcia’s mouth did twitch a little, as he looked me directly in the eye and said:

“Tell her… love is a beautiful thing and a matter for two people…

So whoever seems natural at the time….”

Classic… and very good advice.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

SPANISH IN A THONG/ ESPAÑOL EN UNA TANGA

Another enduring traumatic memory I have of teaching Spanish in peoples home is “thong-gate”. No, not me in a thong you will be glad to hear. Personally I have always thought thongs were uncomfortable and hideous and don’t look good on anyone unless the have a flawless body, especially men. (sorry)

One day I had the unfortunate experience of finding this to definitely be true..

Thong is Spanish is “tanga” and I was definitely tanga-ed that day.

Karen was a nice enough lady who I had been teaching Spanish to for several weeks over the winter in her home. I had also had the dubious pleasure of taking her husband Billy to the hospital a couple of times as his interpreter. Interpreting is another source of interesting experiences I will be looking at in this blog. I didn’t like him much, he was arrogant and nasty, and to all accounts he wasn´t averse to laying hands on Karen when he had had a drink.

Alcohol is a bit problem in the Ex Pat community in Spain, it is cheap, the sun is normally shining, and most of us tend to drink more here than in the UK, certainly years ago.

As winter changed to spring the temperatures increased and I went around there one beautiful morning and Karen suggested we take class on the patio as it was so nice. I agreed, and all was well until about fifteen minutes in when Billy suddenly appeared and walked past us to go and lie by the pool, and guess what he was wearing? And a very small one at that. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

At first I thought “poor guy, he will be mortified, he mustn’ t have realised I was here”.

After the 5th or 6th time he walked past in so many minutes it dawned on me that it was possible it might be because I was there. I looked beseechingly at Karen but she totally ignored him and just concentrated on her worksheet. Seated and trapped on the very small patio, I was at eye level with Billy´s budgie smugglers every time he walked past, and was regaled with a lovely back view as he went past to the pool.

I wouldn´t have liked it even if he was a Chippendale, and Billy wasn´t ….. He was at least 65 years old and he was thin, and I mean thin, almost emaciated, with the leathery brown skin you get if you sunbathe too much here. From the back looked he like two conkers rubbing together.

Thank God the class was only an hour long, because those last 45 minutes went very, very slowly. Billy pranced backwards and forward and stopped to chat often directly in front of me. It was horrible. To this day I cannot see a thong without a shudder going through me.

Most people I have taught Spanish to in their homes have been lovely and very welcoming, and have not worn thongs or been drunk 🙂

However, these bad experiences I did have, along with the fact I was getting busier and running out of time to drive from one student to another, meant I decided to find some premises to teach Spanish from so I did not have to go through this again. That is where Charlie.com came in and I will be talking about that soon.

But the next couple of “confessions” will be from some notable experiences I had as an interpreter many years ago.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

DRUNKEN SPANISH/ ESPAÑOL BORRACHO

Carl and Mary are lovely people. So nice, friendly, would do anything for you and were keen to learn Spanish.

We arranged classes and I started going to their flat twice a week.

The flat was only six months old, a new build from the building explosion here in Spain. I realised quite quickly that absolutely NO cleaning had been done in that flat during those 6 months. I felt I had stepped into an episode of one of those extreme clean reality shows.

I am buy no means housewife of the year material as anyone who knows me will tell you, but there is untidy and there is DIRTY. And then there is FILTHY…

“Excuse the mess”, they said, “we did have a cleaner but she only came once for some reason and we can´t seem to get hold of her”.

Poor woman.

They had two dogs, beautiful dogs, but it was obvious they were allowed to poo and wee in the flat and it was not always cleaned up immediately.

The toilet was something else, I made the mistake of going the first day and spent the rest of the class trying not to gag whilst teaching the alphabet and pronunciation. From then on I made sure I never needed to go again whilst I was there.

Carl and Mary were always offering tea and coffee, biscuits, even lunch. They must have wondered why I never lost weight whilst teaching them Spanish as being on a diet was the only excuse I could come up with as they tried to press them on me.

But the worse day came when I turned up at the flat one day at 11.00 a.m for class as arranged and they were not only clearly drunk, it seemed they had had an argument.

I offered to return another day when they were more receptive but Carl insisted I carried on with the class as normal. I was stuck there for a hour trying to explain “ser” and “estar” to a very drunken, belligerent couple in a filthy house. Anyone who has ever tried to understand these two verbs to be in Spanish will know how difficult that was!!

I still have these nightmarish flashbacks of being pinned down on the sofa between them as they glared at each other and breathed beer and cigarette fumes over me as Carl in particular asked ridiculous questions with alcohol glazed eyes. I couldn’t even escape to the loo as I was terrified what that would be like.

Luckily eventually I managed to extricate myself and I never had to go back there again. It was this mainly this experience and the next one I will relate regarding the exhibitionist that decided me it was time to find some premises to teach rather than go into peoples homes where I just never knew quite what would happen …..

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

SPANISH TEACHER OR AGONY AUNT?/ PROFESORA DE ESPAÑOL O PAÑO DE LÁGRIMAS?

It was amazing how quickly the classes built up…

Anyone who has ever lived in an Ex Pat community will know how small it is.

For every one student I acquired I acquired at least one more.

Friends, family, neighbours… This was before the advent of social media or even the internet. In those days in my part of Spain we didn’t even have proper phones, just radio ones that hardly ever worked. Mobiles were just becoming popular but there were very few reception masts around so coverage was sketchy to say the least. I normally could get a signal by hanging off the roof terrace with a following wind though.

Word of mouth and recommendation was the best way of attracting new students, along with my advert in the Television Magazine. Everyone read that, we Brits like our telly.

One day I received a call from a lady called Carol to go and give classes at the home in a town up the road- She had come to Spain with her much older husband Alan and she already had a good level of Spanish.

When we come to live in a foreign country we leave a lot of our social network behind. Friends, family, work. Many couples find they can’t stand the sight of each other after a few months thrown together with no distractions and there are many infidelities and breakups.

In the intimacy of their home, people often start to treat their Spanish class as more of a counselling session than a class. This is what happened with Carol as she began increasingly to relate her marital problems to me in Spanish.

The awkward thing was is that this normally took place in the kitchen as her hapless non-Spanish speaking husband made us cups of tea and asked if we were okay.

I squirmed as she gave me intimate details of her affair with a Spaniard she had met in Benidorm whilst Alan passed me the biscuits. She went on to tell me how she was going to leave Alan soon and how he couldn’t perform in the bedroom as I tried to keep a poker face and smile politely at him accepting a custard cream, trying desperately not to form a mental picture.

Eventually Carol left poor Alan and went to live with her Spanish lover. She didn’t need Spanish classes any more… or counselling …

Alan contacted me looking for Spanish classes but I politely declined, claiming my timetable was full. I think he just wanted a shoulder to cry on but hey, don’t we all.

But being an agony aunt was easy compared to dealing with exhibitionists and alcoholics on their home turf!! More to follow…..

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

My book “Confessions of a Spanish Teacher” will be published later this year (2021)

You can buy a pre-order copy for 10 euros, published price will be 15 euros. Please contact for details

CONFESSIONS OF A SPANISH TEACHER

Hi all.

This is my very first blog post. I decided to start this blog as for a very long time now I have been thinking of putting together my experiences over nearly 20 years of teaching Spanish. I have met many people and as we all know, people are interesting..

My years of teaching Spanish have included stories of romance, betrayal, prejudice, illness, internet trolling, revenge, nastiness, goodness, miracles, and every spectrum of life and the human condition.

Sounds far-fetched? Everything I write on here actually happened although obviously real names are witheld.

Some stories will be funny, some sad, some inspiring, and hopefully will not cause offence to anyone. I just wanted to write a true account that hopefully is also interesting to read.

Where to start was the problem…

Do I start from now and the novelty of internet trolling I am currently experiencing from Mary and Joe Casey? Quite nasty people with an obvious alcohol problem? No, too depressing…

I will go back to right where it began, when I first started teaching Spanish in peoples homes many years back in 1999. The eve of a new millennium, I had tried various rubbish jobs in Spain and was once again “in-between” them. Luckily for me, one of my long-standing friends was out on holiday. She had recently started her own business and it was her that said to me:

“Why don´t you sit down and work out how many students you would need to teach privately to earn as much money as you do working for other people?”

As anyone who has ever had to earn a living in Spain will know, the answer was not too many… So I placed an advert in a local magazine- “Learn Spanish in the Comfort Of Your Own Home”, and started my career as a “Profesora de Español”.

These stories will be the first I will tell.. Suffice to say I will be be repeating that experience!! To be continued……

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: