Chapter Thirteen: The Longest Weekend

So, here we go. Just three weeks remain of my Year Abroad in Granada. It feels like no time has passed at all, yet May seems to have crept up on me almost overnight. Many readers will know that I often compare the challenges that we face in life to running in a race. That's to say, if this year were a 24-lap race on the track (10,000 metres), then these last three weeks are the equivalent of the final 400 metre lap, where the result of the race is ultimately decided.

Spring in Granada brings with it La Fiesta de las Cruces, literally the Cross Holidays, celebrated every 3rd May and commemorating the legend of the Roman Emperor Constantine I's victory against the overwhelming barbarian armies at the Battle of Danube. Before the battle, Constantine had a vision of a cross in the sky and heard a voice which told him: 'With this sign, you will be victorious.' So Constantine had a cross made, planted it at the head of his army and won a great victory, despite being heavily outnumbered. Simple as that- I wish I could do the same with Barca for their last three must-win matches this season.

In Granada in particular, this holiday is a big deal- many people come to the region to see the celebrations and schools are closed for a week. So what did I get up to with this unexpected freedom? I did indeed travel- home to England for a week. Naturally it would have been great to see the celebrations, which looked stunning in the photos and videos uploaded on my friends' Facebook profiles. However, even with just three weeks to go I dare say I needed a break from Spain, to look after myself for a change as opposed to others, as well as an opportunity for some honest reflection.

So what did I get up to at home? Well, I went to the cinema twice in three days: first for Captain America: Civil War with my brother (I've been waiting all year for this one, and it did not disappoint), then The Jungle Book with my sister. I also saw little Leicester City incredibly win the Premier League and the obligatory party in Jamie Vardy's house. I took my dog out in the fields and hills surrounding my house, and then went out running in the fields and hills surrounding my house, all the while reflecting on my experience of working and living abroad as an Auxiliar this year, which is what this latest blog post will address. I'll say this: work has been tough.

The Spanish system of Bilingual Education is different from how foreign languages are taught in the UK. Rather than treating English as it's own subject, in Spain they teach classes like Natural Science, Music or Social Science, entirely in English. It's a very different way of doing things, and I've never been absolutely convinced that it works, at least at my allocated school. I started learning Spanish when I was 13, going on 14, and even by the end of my third year we were still just talking about basic concepts- things like hobbies, favourite films and other admittedly simple topics.

Here, I've been teaching classes of 20+ children of seven years of age about forces and movement, atoms and energy, in a language that they have no idea how to speak properly yet. Except for swear words, which they take to very willingly. I've had to send out so many kids for dropping f-bombs that my job title should be changed to Language Assistant/Resident Swear-Police.

Geeks like me will understand that reference.

This leads to the most frustrating rule of the trade: Auxiliares are not allowed to speak Spanish to the kids, and we get in big trouble if we do. I understand the reasoning: if our students know that we understand them, they'll never try and converse with us in English. Sure, there have been many frustrating times when some students don't know what a word means and it would be the easiest thing in the world to give them the meaning in Spanish and leave it at that. Maybe I am risking the wrath of those above me at my school, but I've been talking to the kids in Spanish all year. My thinking is that if I'm here for eight months, then I want to build as many bridges as possible to make the whole experience worthwhile. I probably won't go down as the best Auxiliar my school has ever had, but this all comes back to looking out for numero uno for a change. I'm in this for myself.

It's not that I lack faith in the system itself- rather, the way it's implemented in the school in which I have worked all year. I know for a fact that it produces results and it's fantastic that so many Spanish kids are given the experience of learning a second language from such an early age. It's just that to me, it feels like a thankless task. 'Welcome to the world of primary school teaching', some would say. One teacher in my school even voiced to me her frustrations with the way the school teaches English, stating that it's not 'true bilingualism.' I'm not sure what exactly that means, as my experience is obviously limited, but it was interesting to hear a more experienced voice seemingly agreeing with me.

No, it wasn't Boromir...

One thing that everyone who chooses to apply for the programme has to accept is that where you are placed comes down entirely to luck of the draw. You could end up in an amazing concertada (semi-private school),  five minutes out of the city centre with motivated and driven teachers, smaller classes of well-behaved students and, crucially, the freedom to teach the classes you want, how you want. On the other hand, you could be placed at school in a town of 5,000 people, an hour from any major city in rural, back country Spain, where your students don't know the difference between England and America and the English Teacher doesn't speak English. The range of possible situations in which you could find yourself on this programme are endless, but the crucial thing is to not let any placement affect your experience of living in Spain too much, either positively or negatively.

Interestingly, my school has reportedly had problems with previous Auxiliares, who felt more aggrieved with the various shortcomings of the programme, along with the teaching at my school and were not afraid to voice their opinions to the powers that be. Obviously you can't help being judged in the same light as those who came before you, and I have done my best to do what those in charge have asked of me, to the best of my ability. I do wish that my mentors at school had more confidence in me, but again, I can only try and make the best of my situation. Experience is experience, whatever form it takes.

The running of the programme itself is also far from slick. The wait to find out where we were placed dragged on for months once we had all applied, and once our placements eventually did get underway in October, thousands of Auxiliares didn't get paid a cent by the Ministry of Education until the New Year. I should know- I was one of them. Fortunately I had a credit card from an already existing bank account with BMN, but others weren't so lucky and struggled to, among other things, pay for rent, transport and even food. It got to the point where many Auxiliares were set to go on strike shortly after Christmas, though thankfully such an unsavoury episode didn't come to pass.

On the flip side, I don't want this blog post to become overly pessimistic. I've been incredibly fortunate to have spent the past eight months in the company of some wonderful people, both within and outside of school, through various other pursuits and interests. One of the best things about Spain is the reaction of it's people when they hear a foreigner speaking their language. It never gets old. Granadinos continually strike me as the most sociable and friendly people I've ever met. Also some of the teachers I've been fortunate enough to meet and work alongside throughout the past eight months have been pretty inspirational and I have a lot of time for them. But ultimately, despite being employed as a teacher this year the kids have taught me the most important lesson of all: how to face every day with a smile on my face, regardless of the challenges presented to me.

Despite the frustrations, it won't be easy to leave this place in three weeks.

So what does this final lap have in stall for me? Well, more of the same for the most part. I'll be heading down to Motril to do my job, naturally. I'm going to squeeze in one more trip up El Mirador de San Nicolas and a look around the Alhambra before I go, and just simply stroll around the city and take things in on my days off.

What's more, next week is the final day of Spain's La Liga season. Granada CF, fighting to stay in the first division welcome my beloved FC Barcelona to town, who themselves are locked in an epic three way tussle with Real Madrid and their city rivals Atletico de Madrid for the league title. It looks set to be a huge game for both sides, and the Estadio de los Carmenes will be packed to the rafters. Somewhere, among the hordes of  Granada supporters, you'll find yours truly, witnessing the very title-decider that I predicted in Chapter Two of my blog. What an ending, potentially, to the adventure of a lifetime. Maybe I'll add Nostradamus to my ever-growing list of job titles.

And so, the final lap begins. I'll see you at the finish line.



'If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Then yours is the Earth and everything that's in it.
And- which is more- you'll be a man, my son.'

Rudyard Kipling- 'If''