Share in Heather's Anguish

I received an email about a job teaching English and I thought it sounded like a great opportunity. Last Wednesday I called the number given in the email and found myself chatting with the principal. To be honest, it wasn’t much of a chat. It’s a real challenge to understand a person over the phone, and I was nervous trying to understand important details. The woman gave me directions to the school and then asked, “Can you come this afternoon?” I almost panicked as I looked at my watch: It was 2:30 pm, and I was taking a break from my class and was expecting to eat lunch at 3:00. She and I managed to agree upon 5:00 and as we hung open I found my head aching with numerous worries and fears. What bus will take me to Beade (the area of Vigo the school is located in)? What time does the bus come? How often does the bus come? How long will it take to get to Beade and how long will it take to walk to the school? Thanks to the kind cafeteria ladies, Matt and I found the answers and got on the right bus and got off at the right spot. Beade is quite different from our area of the city. It’s quieter and is surrounded by fields and the dominant landmark is a picturesque old chapel. It is also, however, in the opposite direction of our home and due to it’s small population, only has one bus route out of the area.
Anyways, my “interview” wasn’t much to speak of. In fact, it lasted 15 minutes as she spoke in shaky English and I spoke in shaky Spanish. Basically, she gained the understanding I was interested in working at the school and have previously worked with international students and teaching ESL. The conversation ended with, “There is a class today at 5:30. Can you teach it?” Matt and I had a private conversation to debate whether or not I should take the job, but overall my decision was too hasty. I said yes and went to teach the class.
Frankly, I enjoy teaching very much. I am more comfortable speaking and making mistakes in Spanish with kids. The kids, ages 5-20, have a very basic understanding of English, so in my first few classes I found myself speaking in more Spanish than English and enforcing vocabulary and grammar ideas by writing a word and it’s translation on the board (ie: abuelo - grandpa; abuela - grandma, and so forth). I also enjoy the challenge, the classroom environment, and the reward of seeing that Aha I got it look! look in the kids’ eyes. Overall, I was to work eight hours a week and earn 7 euros an hour.
After the first few days, however, Matt and I began to really take notice of the negative aspects of the job. One afternoon of my teaching conflicts with a history class at the University that I am taking (They both start at 4 pm). I finish teaching at 8:30 pm, get on the only bus at 9:25 after waiting by myself in the dark, and ride until 10:00 before I jump off and walk the last 15 minutes to our apartment since that only bus route does not go on our road. Though I am not overly concerned for my safety, it is rather uncomfortable to get on a strange bus and ride for a long while before getting off and having to walk home - all in the dark. And finally, the job does not allow for days off to travel, and Matt and I are planning to do a lot of travel over Christmas break.
So despite the happy feelings of my job, Matt and I decided it would be best to quit now before much more time goes by. After asking our Spanish advisor in the States his opinion, we felt certain that we were making the right decision. Still, I didn’t feel very good; to be honest I was ashamed of myself. I hate quitting anything and I felt as if I was losing good things at the same time. Though I hadn’t signed a contract, I had given the school my word. Besides that, I was terribly nervous to speak to the woman. To prepare, I drafted an email and had Jorge correct it; I sent the email on Monday. On Tuesday, I went to working feeling scared to death. The principal had not read my email yet, so I sat down and talked with her.
Thankfully, she wasn’t angry and only mildly surprised. I felt a great deal better about having made a decision and went through the scariness of telling the principal. But I don’t think I particularly “won” - she answered by saying, “Well then we will have to find a teacher by the end of this week.” Only the we is not the school we; we meant her and me. Ay carumba!
So I tell this story to share my embarrassment and how dumb I feel; also to let you all know how easy it is to make mistakes, of course anywhere, but especially in a foreign country!