Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Having just arrived at the underwear company yesterday (and whilst enjoying my weekly enjoyment of a procession of Italian beauties attending a training course at the offices) I was engaged in some small talk with my boss and one of her students, a blond girl with a quirky prettiness. An hour later, having finished my first lesson, I was waiting for my second to begin when the girl knocked on the door;
“Just one thing” she said.
“Yeah?”
“You have a lovely voice”. I was slightly taken aback, and obviously pleased. I smiled.
“Thank you very much”, I replied, trying not to play up the Englishness too much and ruin the effect.
“It’s beautiful to hear you speak. Really”.
“Umm, thank you. I don’t know what to say”. Indeed, there was nothing else for either of us to say, and so she left, both of us now grining.
And then, later, a sad moment. One of my classes – my favourite class, in fact – finished today. We played some games in class and then went out for dinner. They insisted on paying for me, and that I tell them what I’ll be doing next. That was nice, but equally as pleasing was to hear them asking each other about doing the next course together; they’re a group now, a gang of English-learning friends, and seeing that – and feeling that I was it’s architect – represents real job satisfaction, and, I like to think, a job well done.
Courses end and students (or, more likely in this case, teachers) go their ways. Some students stay in your mind and others evaporate, just as some of my former teachers have been remembered long after the event, and some I couldn’t even name. I just hope that I fall into the former category once in a while. As for my feelings, I’ve written here before that, despite sadness when something good comes to end, it’s always better to have had that experience and the subsequent loss than otherwise. I’ll remember them fondly.
The castle at Malcesine, on the lake (which I expect to be visiting again this weekend, with my visiting friends).
“Just one thing” she said.
“Yeah?”
“You have a lovely voice”. I was slightly taken aback, and obviously pleased. I smiled.
“Thank you very much”, I replied, trying not to play up the Englishness too much and ruin the effect.
“It’s beautiful to hear you speak. Really”.
“Umm, thank you. I don’t know what to say”. Indeed, there was nothing else for either of us to say, and so she left, both of us now grining.
And then, later, a sad moment. One of my classes – my favourite class, in fact – finished today. We played some games in class and then went out for dinner. They insisted on paying for me, and that I tell them what I’ll be doing next. That was nice, but equally as pleasing was to hear them asking each other about doing the next course together; they’re a group now, a gang of English-learning friends, and seeing that – and feeling that I was it’s architect – represents real job satisfaction, and, I like to think, a job well done.
Courses end and students (or, more likely in this case, teachers) go their ways. Some students stay in your mind and others evaporate, just as some of my former teachers have been remembered long after the event, and some I couldn’t even name. I just hope that I fall into the former category once in a while. As for my feelings, I’ve written here before that, despite sadness when something good comes to end, it’s always better to have had that experience and the subsequent loss than otherwise. I’ll remember them fondly.
The castle at Malcesine, on the lake (which I expect to be visiting again this weekend, with my visiting friends).
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