Rome Blog (I)
Rome Blog (I)
A little blog to help me (and by extension you few but enthusiastic readers) keep track of my time in Rome
Context
I moved to Rome on Tuesday the 10th of September. Having been inoculated from a faster pace of life whilst living in the south of Italy, with three hour lunches and a nauseating amount of red wine, it was time to emerge from hibernation and try living in a big, chaotic city again.
Day One
It’s Tuesday. I arrive in Rome having slept for 37 minutes in a chair, at Barcelona airport, during a 7-hour layover.
Aboard the train from the airport to my new station I keep an eye on my suitcase. I was away in Porto for the previous five days. My suitcase was with me for none of those, having failed to accompany me on my flight from Paris to Portugal. Unknown Parisians then failed to put my suitcase on the scheduled flight that would have reunited me, my suitcase and I. And the second scheduled flight. Then the third.
I’m excited to arrive and get settled in. I’m in Rome for heaven’s sake. I am a living embodiment of the Roman Empire meme. Of course there are a few niggling doubts in my mind but this ain’t my first rodeo. It’s my second actually.
I’m determined to make this year successful and productive, without really knowing what that means. I suppose if my move from London to the south of Italy two years ago was about personal reconciliation, a focus on my private self, then this is about pushing my professional self.
Finally I arrive at my flat, given a brief tour and then left to be. The second I’m alone I spiral. This has instantly become a stupid idea. Negative thoughts nag at me like a mosquito bite on the back of a leg.
What have I done? Why am I here? I have to reconstruct friendships, learn my way around, settle into a new job. I’m reconstructing life essentially. I shouldn’t have left my old job or the town I was in because everything was fine there. Not great, but fine.
During these moments of misery I’m reminding myself that I’ve done this before. Underneath the panic there is a baseline of determination and resilience that I can sense. I don’t harness complete control but I’m fighting back in the rally like an early 2010s Andy Murray against Federer.
This is definitely the lowest I’ve felt for a while though. I can’t procrastinate or just not do it like a neglected chore or an essay for a module you picked because it was meant to be an easy way to gain credits.
I’m stuck.
I’m alone.
I want things to be easy again.
Day Two
I wake up, but can’t find a reason to get up, and I know a whole world is out there I should explore but I just don’t have anything within me. I imagine this is how a dog feels when its owners are at work and there’s nothing to do but lie, curled up, occasionally exhaling heavily through the nose.
I ask myself again “why am I doing this?”.
Then I meet my French flatmate Max, who has a thick southern accent and a deep, golden tan, hair still settling into its curtains having only just left the pillow. He has a yellow and green Brazil top on and he seems nice. I speak to Sergio who I met briefly on the first day, an Italian this time, who’s hilarious and topless and eating pasta and salmon out of a frying pan.
Finally I leave the flat in the stuffy heat of the early afternoon and I go to my school and meet my Director, Fabiana (Fabs from here on in), my Assistant Director, Melanie (Mel from here on in), and Andrea who works in the office and makes me a coffee.
They smile at me. They ask about me. They joke with me. No sense of superficiality or over-friendliness pervades the air. Within seconds I’m their colleague and they are mine. Suddenly, as a flavour is awakened with a pinch of salt, I feel optimistic. I am part of something and I am someone with a purpose.
Back at home I meet Claudia, the beautician, and Raffaele, the lawyer, and there we have it. The cast is complete. Four Italians. A Frenchman, a Dutchman, and an Englishman. Quite a lot of colonialism between us.
I go to bed positive and optimistic.
Day Three
OK, I’ve got two classes today. One with little kids aged about 9 or 10 and another straight after with adults who are at a reasonable level. Just get the planning done, get in early, and deliver two good lessons. Start how you mean to go on.
…
I can’t plan these fucking lessons. For Christ’s sake why can’t I get these lessons fucking planned? I’ve got 100 ideas but no idea how to patch them together and envision a lesson.
This has always been my weakness. Planning. Not just as a teacher but in life more broadly. But here I feel my weakness exposing me. It’s like a recurring dream I used to have where I’d wake up in a random place, look down and for some inexplicable reason I’ve forgotten to put my trousers on and I’m just walking around in my pants. So painfully exposed.
I pull together a lesson that’s held together at the seams by all the force of a week-old post-stick note and I survive the lesson with the kids. Children that young are going to be an area of huge learning for me as I don’t have much experience at that level.
The adults afterwards were much more manageable. I still felt a bit underprepared because I used most of my time worrying about the kids. The bloody kids!
I’ve so much to learn. But I am a different person compared to who I was two years ago when I started teaching in Italy. Or four years ago when I started working in London. I know what my weaknesses are and I’m going to keep asking questions and trying new things until those areas start to improve. No more suffering in silence.
Day Four
Right it’s Friday and I’ve got an advanced group of teenagers from 5-6:40pm and that’s it. Piece of metaphorical piss. This is who I’ve taught most of my time as a teacher and I’m excited.
During the day, not much really. I read a bit and give my room another clean, have a bit of lunch before heading into work a few hours early to get the prep done and have time to ask questions if I need to.
Fabs gives me some recommendations for material and I have a lesson planned and ready.
It goes smoothly. I’m happy. I go home.
Day Five
Saturday. It’s roasting hot and I don’t do much.
I spend most of the day on the phone to Rosalia who’s been my saviour since day one. She’s constantly encouraging me, reminding me of what I can do and why I moved here in the first place.
We’ve both just moved into new cities so there’s an element of solace and solidarity in our communal hardship.
Genuinely, without her words of wisdom, these early days would have been horrific.
Day Six
North London Derby today.
I’m slow in the morning and I chip away at a position paper about Self Regulated Learning (SRL) for language learners. That’s another thing about my school. They’ve got an abundance of curiosity about teaching itself and there’s a wealth of reading material in the staff room. It’s an environment that motivates you to learn and discover new approaches.
It gives me a slightly giddy feeling of being a student again, being introduced to new ideas and subject areas and having the time and space to read about them in detail. Given how much of an omnishambles my university career was maybe this can be attempt number two?
Tottenham lose. It pisses me off. Nothing much else to report after that.
Day Seven
Back to Monday and my first full week at school.
I’m in relatively early for some teacher training along with another newbie. We’re introduced to the school’s IT system. Given I completed my timesheet and registers with pen and paper at my last school this is absolutely unbelievable.
It’s a staff meeting and welcome lunch with pizzas after this and a nice reminder that we’re at the start of something fresh. Despite having plenty of experience in the school, Fabs has just started as Director of Studies and I’m one of three new members of staff out of a total of five full-timers.
From my perspective, this creates a healthy environment. There are opportunities to mould some of us younger teachers who are open-minded to new approaches and keen to take on as much knowledge and detail as possible. This wealth of experience is made available by the generosity of the wiser heads at the school. More than just wisdom, they add stability and security. If things get rocky at any point, we know we can handle it.
Best of luck, Dominic! I’m jealous of all the gelato you can eat
Finely written with just enough insight into the author’s frailties to keep you interested and make you care.
Please continue on the path less trodden . X