On the very first day we met the school's namesake, Mr. Marsalli. He's a well-traveled man from California, and he's had his schools running since the late 70s during the dictatorship. An affable man, we spent some time fielding questions from him about our backgrounds and also listening to a general outline of the program. So far, so great. I really dig the philosophy behind the methodology. It's like the Rosetta Stone programs. All (more or less) of the classes are taught in English, the material is learned verbally, and a great deal of pictures and motions are used to help the students remember the words, phrases, and grammar. Almost nothing is written, except for the occasional vocab word in Spanish. I also like the fact that I'm being trained. That would have been nice in Korea.
On Thursday and Friday I taught a lesson to my new co-teachers on frequency expressions (always, usually, never, etc.) Each time I got to teach I was thankful, as it stopped me from yawning. You can only repeat, "Who plays basketball" so many times before your brain is out to lunch, though I'm sure it's not that way as a foreign student of the language.
Every night this week I also observed classes with various teachers. Though most teachers are American, there are also a good number of Chileno (Chilean) teachers. Many of these teachers have lived in Canada, and I'm guessing their families went there because of the dictatorship. And on the topic of Chilenos, I'm almost certain I'm going to enjoy their company in the classes and in the city. In every class I attended the students were inquisitive, funny, and very friendly. I'll have to do a post on Chilenos, but again, so far, so great.
Last night I headed out for a few pisco sours with co-workers. A fine night, with only a few mishaps. First the mishaps, then the good.
Mishap 1: Not giving an unsolicited caricaturist a few pesos.
This resulted in my Irish co-worker (Nick) having to do the deed for me. He told Nick I looked like "a studier", and gave me the caricature as a gift after everyone at the table turned him down, knowing full well someone would shoot him a peso or two at that last-bid stage. Not only did I not like the caricature, but I hate the idea of people "forcing" me to give them money. But, for better or worse, I suppose I'll post it. Enjoy.
Mishap 2: The second problem was in the taxi on the way home. Co-worker Erin and I got in a taxi and headed to her place first, after a little driving around. Once she was dropped off I noticed the rate meter went back to zero for some reason, but I didn't say anything.
Instead we drove around the block a few more time as I tried to recognize the area. Eventually I gave up trying to instruct the driver in broken Spanish (better than non-existent Korean!) and just decided to "busco para mi depto (search for my apartment)". But before I got out, I was told my fare was 15.000 pesos, which wasn't right at all. It was all very confusing, because the guy was very patient and seemed to be trying to honestly explain the fare, but the way I understood it, it was way too pricey. I let him know that I was new in town, but not stupid. I fruitlessly pointed at the meter (which had no number). I ended up giving him a 10.000 peso bill and he gave me some change. So more confusion, but at least I didn't have to pay 15.000 pesos.
Now to the good stuff. As is typical in the news, the good stuff gets less coverage, and I'm afraid it will here too. Said simply, the night involved good conversation and some dancing with Chilenas. Nick said the Chilenos weren't nearly as good of dancers as the Argentines. And I must admit they weren't all that great. Better than the British?--absolutely. Koreans?--come on! Americans?--certainly. But super confident, masters of suave and tango?--not a bit. As I'm finding out, the Chilenos don't necessarily meet all of the Latin American stereotypes.
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