Teaching English as A Second Language, Part I: next week…

So this blog will be a bit of a revelation to my audience, a little secret that I have kept brewing on the back burner in all of my notes home. I have been teaching English two nights a week in the adjoining city of Sale, across the river from Rabat. I wanted to save this story for when I would have something substantial to say for it, and now I realize I have far too many things to say. It has been one of the most rewarding and unique experiences for me here in Morocco, and has provided me with an understanding of life here in a way that I know I could not have otherwise have accomplished. For this reason, I have decided to divide my little blog into two parts. This first entry is of how I got myself into volunteering. The second blog (hopefully, if all goes to plan) will detail some of the ups and downs of actually doing so.

During orientation week here in Morocco, waaaaay back the first week of February, I ran into a little hand-written note tacked to the CCCL’s notice board. The small, indifferent piece of paper politely called out for a female volunteer to teach English to a group of women a few days a week at the German cultural center here in Rabat. I thought to myself, well, this could be interesting. So I wrote down the e-mail and resolved to look it up. I have already given some thought to the idea of teaching English as a second language as a possible break before perusing more academics or a career after college. If nothing else, going out two nights a week to teach English would give me an opportunity to talk to and befriend Moroccans outside of my activities with the CCCL and my home-stay family.

I sent off my first e-mail politely requesting a bit more information, such as how many students, what level of English, their expectations for myself, and how I would be expected to organize the sessions, etc. I really have no idea how to teach, and English of all things is not particularly my strong point (my parents might remember my spelling tests from grade school).  This all being said, the fact remains that I am a native speaker, and for that fact alone I am in some ways over-qualified to some eyes. I don’t know about that so much, but, if nothing else I would be a volunteer, and whatever I can give is a plus, I suppose.

Anyways. I sent off my e-mail, spent a week going through orientation (and being sick, etc) when I receive my first reply. The e-mail I had been directed towards was actually one of the secretaries at the CCCL. Turns out the position I had seen advertised had long since been filled up, and unfortunately no one had bothered to take down the sign just yet. However, if I was still interested, there were dozens of other organizations looking for English volunteers, and if I was still interested, I could work with any number of them. Of course I was still interested!

I promptly replied, and again, waited another week for a reply. There was an organization based in Sale (across the river, as I said before. you can Googlemaps it and see for yourself. It is kind of the poorer stepsister of Rabat) that was very interested in having a volunteer, if I didn’t mind the commute. Sure. But I really wanted my initial questions answered still, about what I should expect, what they should expect. These questions, however, were for the most part  waved aside with the promise of a meeting in a weeks time to be able to sit down and ask any questions more directly with members from the association.

Ok, sounds good. Where? What time?

O, how about we meet at the CCCL library at noon next week?

(Has anyone noticed, every development seems to happen next week? Anyone? Or am I just crazy?)

So next week I skip lunch (always at noon) and come to the library to meet the association members, ask questions, etc. However, this is now getting into the fourth week of my time here in Morocco. I am beginning to settle into a pattern of life that I am not yet so comfortable in that I want to start disrupting it suddenly. Further, some culture shock, bureaucratic frustrations and a general consensus of homesickness has been settling on my peers and myself. Do I really want to add teaching English now on to my pile of worries? I am having more and more doubts, somewhat increased by the fact that I don’t seem to ever get a strait answer regarding what exactly I would be doing! However, I go to the meeting. Never turn down opportunities, even if you really don’t think you will take them up.

I arrive at the library and find myself face to face with the very same secretary I have been corresponding with the entire time. She sat me down at a table and began to reiterate everything she had told me in the e-mails, fully confident in my abilities, enthusiasm, and capacity to teach. Further, she spoke as though the arrangement was already set in stone, telling me that I could begin teaching that Friday, and that someone from the association would come pick me up at the CCCL to show me how to get there the first time.

Woah woah woah slow down! First off, I am not nearly so confident about this as myself. Second of all, where are these association members? I really feel I need answers to my questions before I launch into this blindly, and I was told that I could meet them today.

O they are great guys, you will get along with them fine! It will be great!

I’m sure they are great guys, but really. I don’t want to be wasting anyone’s time floundering around muddying the English language for these individuals who sincerely want to learn it. I need to be able to prepare myself, and so far, I have no idea how to do so.

It will be fine, there is another American there also volunteering.

Really? Well can I have this american’s number or e-mail, and maybe shoot off some of my questions to them? (Because really, this is getting ridiculous, a whole month of dialogue which just completely ignores all and any of my requests for information, never addressing once my own concerns, ah! Culture shock! Ah! Home-sickness! I really don’t know if I want to do this anymore!)

Ah, well, I am sorry, but I don’t have any of that information. But the guys from the association do!

That’s great. When can I meet them, since they seem to be the only ones who know what is going on?

Umm, how about next week?

*rolls eyes*

One week later, I find myself in the same seat in the CCCL Library once more, again with the secretary, but this time also joined by two young men, both of whom speak about as much English as I speak Darija. Ha haha. But that is why the secretary is finally here to translate for us. Deep sigh of relief. Maybe now I will have some of my questions answered.

Twenty minutes later, I realize that my questions are simply irrelevant. The best I learn is that next week I can come into the association and sit in on one of the lessons from the other American volunteer to get a feel for things, and then the following week, I will start up on my own classes. O for the love of God. I am now defeated. I simply bow my head to the inevitable and just take the situation as it stands. I will just go with it. I will throw all of my reservations aside and just simply launch myself into the unknown. My own personal taste for mentally preparing myself, to feeling out all of the edges of my situation before taking action, to know the ins and outs before coming to a decision or settling on a course of action, all of this will just be thrown out the window. I will just go with it, and for better or worse, find out what happens in the end.

Though I did not realize it at the time, it was this moment of bowing to the inevitable, of surrendering, that was in fact the greatest experience of my stay in Morocco. It was when I learned to bend and sway, and become flexible. It was when I learned to just accept what came my way, instead of struggling to understand everything as it came hurtling towards me. It was after this point that I became light as air. The point where I felt all of my (until then, unconscious) pressure suddenly relieved. It was a remarkable transformation. And it is only now, a month and half later, that I can look back and see so much clarity the value of that moment.

It is a lesson I have learned before, and I think it is a lesson I may learn again. But it can be made so much more real and true to me any number of times. The value of saying “yes” to whatever comes. Of accepting it, perhaps embracing it, and then sitting back and watching just where it may go. It is the ability to shrug and say “what the Hell, I might as well!”

and here are some photos for your viewing pleasure: Just random pics of my time here