Awkward (ȯ-kwərd):
lacking social grace and assurance
Auxiliar de conversación:
language and culture assistant
Being a socially awkward, anxious person has shaped who I am today. I thought I’d write a bit about how being a self-confessed awkward person in a teaching role works. In the beginning, the thought of speaking alone to large groups of teenagers seemed like a pretty daunting task. Any form of public speaking felt like a truly horrific experience at the start of my adult life. Even to a point that I would refuse to partake in presentations at University. My mind would race through awful imaginary scenarios, the most terrifying of all being public humiliation, so I never put myself in a situation that would risk it. Each challenge since then has edged me out of my comfort zone and into the unknown. It’s a well known understanding that pushing the boundaries on what makes you comfortable can result in personal growth. I knew all of this, but of course, intentionally putting yourself into an experience of discomfort is easier said than done.
School days
I DESPISED school. Hated it. With a passion. Since day 1 in Reception I had to be literally dragged screaming from my mum to start school. I had deep suspicions of people who said school was ‘the best days of their lives’. Now I know we’re just all different. I just don’t think I was personally suited to the environment.
I was relatively bright in school, but this was overshadowed at parents evenings where teachers would address how quiet I was. In secondary school, my attendance was dismal. My shyness had gradually developed into (what I believe was) an anxiety disorder. The feeling when waiting outside a classroom was something I’d never experienced outside of school, I felt claustrophobic inside my own body. The solution? Stay home, watch daytime TV. I became more familiar with Jeremy Kyle’s face than my own tutor’s. The later years of school were great as my confidence grew and I enjoyed being around the friend group I found. Unfortunately, human beings are hard-wired to remember bad experiences, so my bad times have been solidly associated with school.
Teaching
Some of that was heavy. So, why on earth would I want to work in a school?! Thankfully, I’ve made peace with a lot of my school memories (I honestly hope we all have, I know a lot of us have been through some 💩). I’m pretty open these days to trying new experiences with an objective outlook. During the first lockdown I began looking into opportunities to work abroad, and came across the British Council’s Language Assistant programme. It was a pretty good deal, 12 hours a week teaching for €700/month (along with savings I already had). It’s easy to see the programme onscreen without really thinking about what that life would mean.
I barely thought about the teaching aspect until about two weeks before I departed the UK. I was nervous on my first day in the secondary school, however my co-ordinator who worked at the school had maintained contact with me for months before that, so I knew there was someone I could talk to there. We ran through some admin bits and then I went straight to my first class. This Spanish school has actual stages at the front of the classes. Luckily my previous jobs have geared me up for small talk and light-hearted humour with strangers. Despite an uncertain 5/10 minutes, I soon became used to speaking with the students and gauging their English level. After about a week I knew I had the capacity to teach kids and (mostly) maintain their interest, while using some British humour which often falls flat, but at least I’m enjoying it. The thing I feared most had been conquered. I think I began to mimic the relaxed Spanish attitude towards everything and tried to stop giving a 💩about what people thought. My most useful tool has been humour, including some self-deprecating jokes, which is how I’ve generally gotten by in other jobs.
Free time!
As I only work 12 hours a week, there’s a LOT of time to fill outside of it. Having too much time not doing very much leaves lots of room for hyperactive overthinking. I already began thinking ahead to when I’d return to the UK and where on earth to work, live etc. Anxious career thoughts often occupy my mind and occasionally my dreams. However I tell myself that this is my year to take some breathing space from the UK and ‘find myself’ (again), although I thought I already did that on my year abroad in 2016. My housemate is great at finding things for us to do. She often has to encourage me to tag along with her to things I’m uncertain about. Our Tuesday night yoga classes are now regular, including an odd Wednesday at the local yoga retreat. The most jarring of our new experiences was actually last night, at a ‘circus class’, which I thought was just an aerial silks class.
Alas, no. The warm up involved the instructor telling us to move with our bodies. I am not joking when I say that I felt like I was in a weird dream. People were floating around like fairies and doing Instagram Britney-esque dances, including five minutes with a big stick and rolling around on the floor.
Thank god for the face masks, everyone seemed to be taking it pretty seriously, however we were in hysterics. I had about five separate fight or flight moments in the eternal twenty minutes of the warm-up. Honestly, kudos to the people who did the class without a care in the world. The discomfort was real.
But, I didn’t leave, I managed to stick out one of the most foreign (and feared) experiences that I’ve had in Spain. We took videos of our time on the silks but thank god there is no photographic evidence of the warm-up activity.
I still have days where I feel like an awkward mess (mainly the PE days, sorry Dani), however those are now few and far between. As I've put myself though an array of different experiences I feel more comfortable trying new things. I recommend checking out exposure therapy, which is essentially continuously doing things you're scared of until you're no longer afraid (within reason obvs). If I take my own advice, it looks like I'm going to be convincing my partner to run away to the circus with me at the end of my placement.
Commenti