Seeing the forest through the trees

September 29, 2009 at 10:21 am | In la vida | 5 Comments
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Sometimes it seems like life is just a string of hard-learned lessons I never really benefit from. It’s easy to realize when you’ve learned from a mistake, but it’s not so easy to remember and recognize when to apply that lesson in future situations.

In my latest case of lesson-learning, I wrote off the idea of working for a language academy without stopping to think that maybe it would be smarter to discuss my concerns with the directors first, in order to try to come to an agreement. Luckily, they called me and suggested we meet to talk before I made any final decisions. I agreed, and then felt silly for having sent my “good riddance” (although polite and reasonable) email instead of just calling to have an actual conversation and try to come up with a solution for my problem.

It turns out that they were willing and happy to meet me halfway. I agreed to take a few of their classes instead of all the ones we had originally discussed, thus leaving half of my evenings available for giving my own classes. On the same day, I met with another language academy that wanted to hire me to give a late morning class at a nursery. I’m still undecided about this one, as I want to find out exactly how many two-year-olds we’re talking about. However, it could potentially be a good deal since it’s a little tricky finding morning classes, which is when I’m most available.

By working for academies half of the time, I’ll have the security of knowing I’ll be able to make rent each month without fail. The money is guaranteed, except on holidays, which is not the case with private classes. But by having the other half of my work hours free from academies, I can organize a few of my own classes, allowing me to make the most of my time by scheduling pay-per-person classes with small groups. Now, having both the fixed income and more control over how much money I can potentially earn each month, I think I’ve achieved the best of both worlds.

In my last blog, I admitted that decision-making is not my forte. From this most recent event, I have learned that situations are not necessarily black and white, and discarding an option or situation that appears unsatisfactory without first working to fix it is probably a mistake. I’m pretty sure I’ve learned this lesson before, in one aspect of my life or another, but learning to apply it is an on-going challenge.

You can take the “free” out of the freelancer…but she will take it back

September 27, 2009 at 5:53 am | In Uncategorized | 2 Comments

[Note: Originally published on Wed. Sept. 23, then taken down due to indecision, then re-posted today.]

For a couple of months now, I’ve been reading a book  on decision-making. I still haven’t finished it because I do that with books and other things in life — start them and get kinda interested but then get distracted by something else that’s more interesting, like the Facebook. Or my empty gmail inbox. Why read when you can stare at a glowing screen? This problem is on my list of things to change about myself in the future. But I digress.

decisionsMy mom bought me said book this summer because I tend to struggle over decisions to the point where they become painful. I know there is no perfect decision, but I don’t really believe it. So, I have already reversed one of the decisions I made when I first got to Granada — to work for a language academy. The thing is, the academy hired me, but not to work at the actual place, but to give private classes in people’s homes for a flat hourly rate.

You see, I’m an old pro at giving these kinds of classes, but I usually just organize them myself and choose where I want to go, when I want to go there and how much I want to charge. I tried to get used to the idea of having someone else do all the managing for me, as the advantages were that they’d give me some materials and guarantee me a full schedule on my available days, but I just couldn’t get over the fact that I could work fewer hours for more money and with more flexibility if I ditched The Man and found students on my own.

So I quit. Before even starting. Well, I had given two classes already, but the academy hadn’t even finished putting together the rest of my schedule yet.

The thing about private classes is, once you have one, you’ll soon have more than you can handle, or at least that many offers. Word gets around; it’s just getting started that takes some creativity, if you don’t have immediate connections. Working for an academy would surely be worthwhile if I had a block schedule in one place instead of having to waste time traveling to people’s houses, or if I had time to do both that and give some of my own classes, or if I had no idea how to go about finding my own classes or that I could charge per person and not just per hour, but none of these hypothetical “ifs” apply to me, so according to my book, I should immediately stop thinking about them and be content with my decision. Which I am.

Now comes the creativity part, as I no longer have the connections that working for a bilingual school gives you. I’ve posted ads on the internet, advertising special offers and highlighting my qualifications, and this afternoon I’m going to recruit Jaime to help me hand out flyers to parents waiting outside of nearby schools to pick up their kids when the bell rings.

It will be an experiment in self-marketing and management, to see how much bang I can get out of my only two evenings available for giving classes. Will I find a way to pay the bills? Will I hate my life in the process? Will my decision prove to be a good one? Only time will tell.

No sure thing

September 22, 2009 at 5:50 am | In Real-life adventures, Working on answering what's next, a trip called teaching, la vida | 7 Comments
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I’ve been an absent blogger for, let’s face it, pretty much the whole time I’ve been blogging. I did OK when I first started this thing, in Granada in 2008, but the consistent writing only lasted a few months. I don’t know why I’m feeling inspired to start again now…but true to a commitment phobe’s nature, I’m making no promises that I’ll keep it up.

Here I am again, in Granada, after a nine-month stint in Madrid and a couple summers spent living at home. Last time I was here, I was a teacher’s assistant, part of a popular program organized by the Spanish and American governments to bring native English speakers into Spain’s bilingual schools to combat the country’s bad reputation associated with learning the language. I played that game for two years, as it provides a nice monthly stipend to live off of — complete with health insurance, paid vacation and legal resident status — but I was absolutely out of my element most of the time and basically just getting by in the hopes of figuring out what I really wanted to do in the meantime.

The first year, in Granada, was markedly worse than the second, caused by both circumstances and poor choices. I was placed in a school that was in the process of becoming bilingual, and it was my job (in partnership with the other language assistant at the school, a girl my age from Quebec) to “teach” the teachers who would be expected to teach at least 30 percent of their classes in English the following year. Did I mention I had no teaching experience or training, and my job description explicity prohibited me from leading a class without the supervision of an actual teacher? So the other girl and I spent every morning giving “conversation classes” to small groups of teachers, which involved a lot of coming up with games and activities that would let the teachers practice speaking English in a hopefully not-too- boring way. But it was boring, and I habitually started dreading the work week, consisting of 12 teaching hours over four days plus some private evening classes, as early as Saturday afternoon.

But the school situation was not the only factor contributing to the bad year. This was technically my first time living completely on my own, as I started the program right out of college.  I’d been working since I was 16 but had never had to make a budget for my monthly earnings in order to cover all my living expenses, wants and saving goals. Thus, I picked an apartment that was too expensive, planned trips I couldn’t afford and stressed myself out to save more than feasible on my stipend. In order to meet those goals, I took on too many private classes, which were spread out all over the city, paid me less than I should have accepted and filled most of my evenings Monday through Thursday. All lessons learned the hard way, but learned well.

The second year wasn’t so bad, even rewarding at times. This time I worked at an elementary school with only 100 students in a pueblo just north of Madrid. I worked with everyone from three-year-olds to sixth-graders to teachers, and the staff was small and welcoming. My favorite thing about the year was having a purpose — preparing the young’ns to take an important English level exam at the end of the year and helping the English teachers make their classes more authentic. I didn’t just fill hours like a student waiting for the bell to ring; I was needed, even too much at times, and I got to see my students’ progress over time. I even discovered something that shocked my friends and family, not to mention me: I really like working with kids, like little ones. I thought I had no maternal instinct, and maybe I don’t, but they’re so darn cute and just make you smile. I never would’ve thought being an elementary school teacher would even cross my mind as an option, but if I decide to teach one day, I will most certainly consider that age group. If for that experience alone,  the year was more than worthwhile for me.

What’s more, the experience was better than the last because I made smarter choices as far as planning my private classes. I decided to set the condition that in order to accept a class, it had to be SUPER convenient for me. And it worked. I limited myself to just a few classes, and I got a ride directly to their houses via a co-worker in every instance. I even lucked out and was hired to give a weekly class at the royal nursery, which just happened to be down the street from my school and pretty much ended any financial worries I may have had. Needless to say, I was generally much less stressed overall than the previous year.

All of this leads me to this year, in Granada again, but no longer as a language assistant. So, what am I doing now? The better question is, “What am I not doing?” In mid-October, I begin a master’s program at the local university. I’ll spend full evenings Wednesday through Friday studying “international cooperation,” which involves things like economics, politics, humanitarian aid, management and government. In my two free evenings I’ll give English classes in people’s homes, a job organized through a language academy in the city. During the day, I’ll run (my boyfriend and I are training for a half-marathon, you know), give private classes I arrange on my own, and do freelance translation work and hopefully some writing.  At least this is how I envision my year to come, but I’m fully aware that my eyes may be bigger than my belly, so to speak.

I wanted to do this year on my own, without the hand-holding of any program designed to facilitate foreigners’ experiences abroad. I’ve done that type of thing four times now, study abroad programs included, and it’s time I do something with no expiration date. I got my legal papers (well, they’ve been accepted and are being processed) on my own, translated all my academic documents and got into the master’s program on my own, got the English teaching job on my own and will hopefully build more translation contacts on my own, as well. This means that when the academic year ends in June, I won’t be back at square one, wondering what to do next. I’ll have jobs that could potentially carry on into the future, or at least contacts and new qualifications that could lead to such a job. Thus, my reasons for telling myself that I’ve started off this new adventure by making smart decisions, and we’ll see how the circumstances turn out to be. So far, things are looking good.

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