Do you want to make party?

Are you still with me, are you still following along?

My infrequent blog posts are not due to lack of content - trust me, there is enough material. I could write volumes on the young American students I have met and how they only re-affirm my reasons for taking a break from work. I could dedicate weeks of blogs to just food (and perhaps I will). And I am just not yet prepared to tackle some burning questions, such as why milk is sold in plastic bags here, why every Argentinian woman wears purple as a rule and what in the hell is everyone´s staring problem. I´ll get there. But for now, I´ll stick with what is most relevant...the joys and mysteries of teaching English.

Walking down the street in foreign countries often means people will spontaneously practice their English. The people that shout things out, however, usually have a limited vocabulary. In France, for example, a lady walking down the street can be serenaded by ¨Fuck You.¨ In Peru and Guatemala, you can expect ¨Hello, my friend, my friend!!¨ In Italy, they don´t speak much English, so they just grab your ass. But in Argentina, it´s ¨I loves you!¨ There is a lot of love here, apparently.

With this in mind, I have come to educate the masses on a little language we call English.

I started my TEFL course two weeks ago and have been in the throes of learning grammar, lexis, phonology, and practice teaching to a group of lovely volunteers. The course is intense, a lot of work and exhausting. School is from 9-5, then I usually spend my evenings writing lesson plans and researching grammar points. It´s not as bad as I thought it would be, but teaching is hard.

My first class consisted of teaching the past simple to our advanced class (all men over 40) by means of talking about past relationships gone wrong. Whoop dee do. Try explaining the meaning of ¨to chat up¨(for those Americans out there, that means ¨to hit on¨).

Teaching our beginner class is challenging because you have to think about every word that comes out of your mouth and be prepared to ask a million concept check questions to make sure they understand the difference between ¨I want...¨and ¨I went...¨ which sounds very similar to Argentine ears.

Graded language. Eliciting. Concept check questions. Teacher talk time. Student-centered learning. And don´t even get me started on the schwa /Ə/.

I am not a natural teacher...just because I like to talk to people doesn´t mean I have any idea how to teach future perfect progressive. But the volunteers that come to the school to learn English are amazing and make it a great environment to learn, make mistakes and have fun.

I did a listening activity using Bob Dylan and discussing how music can be revolutionary. Hugo is very adamant that punk music is a load of crap, and Claudio swears that Steve Vai is the best guitarist ever born.

I have two more weeks of classes, and then will be job hunting and interviewing to find a job.

I found an apartment for $300 a month, living with a porteña (a person from Buenos Aires) that plays the bass and teaches music. I will have to do a visa-run every 3 months to Uruguay to get my passport stamped.

And just like that, I am an English teacher. An illegal alien. One more expat in Buenos Aires.

stay tuned...