We were barely two weeks into our new lives in Spain, but we already had appointments with prospective students and even more calling. Elliot answered the call from Liliana, but handed the phone to me as she expressed interest in classes for her two sons, ages 14 and 19. We had decided that I would teach the younger learners; and I felt more comfortable with kids. It was still difficult for me to talk on the phone, so I tried to keep the conversation short. With the air of an experienced babysitter, and perhaps a hint of arrogance, I was on my bike to their apartment the next morning.
Liliana buzzed me into the building and greeted me at the door with a baby on her hip.
"Hola, ¿como estás?" I said, trying to make small talk while I looked for a place to put down my helmet and my bag. It had been raining, so I apologized for dripping everywhere. She smiled at me revealing two silver front teeth.
"Somos de Perú," she said, adding that her sons had only been in Spain for four years. Each had some language training, but they hadn't really retained anything. And it turned out that the baby on her hip was her nephew; his father was also living in the apartment.
After meeting the boys briefly, and talking more with their mother about what kind of class they would prefer, we started discussing price. Elliot and I have a sliding scale rate of 10€ to 15€ per hour for our classes, depending on how much preparation we have to do outside of the class. These boys already had textbooks, so Liliana and I figured not much more would be needed. I settled, then, at 10€ per hour. She wanted two hours a week for each of them, so I left thinking I had done right by this family, and I had added 40€ to our weekly income.
My first class with the older teen was just a few days later. I found their place a little easier this time, so I arrived a few minutes early. It was one of the boys who buzzed me up this time, but the mother still greeted me at the door. A few words into our small talk and I realized she was saying something more than hello, how are you. There was a problem with the price.
Suddenly, I felt like she was speaking very quickly. She wanted me to lower the price, that much was clear. She had spoken to other people who said they've heard of teachers charging less. She wanted to pay 35€ instead of 40€.
I tried to explain that the rate I charged was for my time and experience, that Elliot and I were partners and we decided on a minimum rate of 10€ per hour. After all, we had read that most teachers charged a minimum of 15€ per hour. I felt like we were already giving her a deal. No one else had disputed price before. Why did I have to sell myself to her for five more euros?
I gave into her discounted price at first, because I was already there to teach a class, and I wanted to avoid any further confrontation. So I taught the class, all the while thinking anxiously about what had just happened. By the time two hours had passed, I had decided to talk about it later with Elliot. If he thought it was too little, I would call Liliana and explain that we couldn't accommodate her situation. At this point, I definitely preferred talking to her on the phone rather than to her face.
Once we finished, she came back into the living room with a 50€ bill. I was confused again.
"Lo siento, igual no te he entendido." I felt like an amateur. Dumb. Maybe even crazy. And she seemed a little frustrated. Why wasn't I getting this?
I thought she wanted to pay 35€ per week for two classes, each two hours long. But she thought I expected that price for each class, thus amounting to 70€ per week. Ah, what a great misunderstanding! I was so glad to tell her I didn't expect to earn nearly as much as she thought. I couldn't stop smiling, anticipating that this weird tension would evaporate. We both laughed, me nervously and her somewhat skeptically, but I left feeling better.
The weird tension didn't really go away, though. I realized over the next few weeks that these boys didn't know a whole lot. Each of them had important exams within the month, so we just had to hit the books to cover as much material as possible. And the books sucked. These kids relied heavily on dictionaries and internet translations, which made conversation nearly impossible. Let's just say it's a good thing I spoke Spanish; otherwise the classes may have crashed and burned.
Plus I was feeling a lot of pressure from their mother. Every week she would ask me how they were doing, if they were advancing. I was hesitant to say yes, because they weren't. But how could I say no -- we had only been working together for a few weeks.
When the exams were approaching, I started to wonder what our classes could be like afterward. I could design my own lesson plans, teach at a more appropriate pace, and maybe even get these boys to enjoy the classes! There was a catch, however. In order for me to do this comfortably, I would have to ask for a little more money. But I felt like money was what had made this relationship weird in the first place.
Biking to their apartment one day, I rehearsed the conversation in my head. At the end of that class, I asked to speak with her. I kept my speech tempo up, to get in as much as possible before she could interrupt. I tried to remain open by making these more formal classes seem like just another option. But at the same time, I emphasized that the books alone don't do a great job of explaining and elaborating certain topics.
She seemed interested, but she still continued to ask why I would want five euros more per class. Sure, I wanted to say, it's only five euros more. But maybe she was thinking that's 20 more per month. So I stood there, and sold myself again. Well, I explained, I have to prepare these extra materials outside of class, and this takes time. She understood, and conceded.
But it just seemed so reluctant. Of course I expected her teenage sons to be a little resistant, but not her. I didn't want her to think that I was teaching classes purely for monetary gain, and at the same time I could not trivialize my own work ethic.
I'm proud of myself, because I've never asked for a raise before. I didn't think I would feel so conflicted afterward, though.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
It ain't no Jeopardy, that's for sure
We've found a great, new, edgy way to learn Spanish. Instead of attending a class, or investing in Muzzy, just follow the several entertaining game shows that air in Spain every single day.
Pros: You broaden your vocabulary through random trivia questions (about both Spanish and non-Spanish people or things), you witness useless and annoying banter between the hosts and contestants, and even if you don't follow a word you can at the very least determine who has won and who hasn't simply by looking for frowns vs. smiles!
Cons: Native Spaniards think you're kind of strange for knowing so much about game shows!
1. ¡Ahora Caigo! (American version is called "Who's Still Standing?")
The set-up of this show consists of one contestant and 10 "opponents" who go back and forth answering trivia questions about anything from pop culture to literature to other game shows. If the contestant doesn't know a question, she has three passes to her opponent to avoid losing. If the opponent misses a question, however, she gets a big "aww" from the audience and then falls through a trapdoor underneath her feet. This same fate can fall upon the contestant if she uses all of her passes. So now I'm sure you can imagine the russian roulette ambience this game show has! Each opponent is worth a certain amount of euros to the contestant (1€ to 5,000€), so as she beats more of them, she wins more money. If she beats all of them she gets the ultimate prize of 100,000€. On the weekends, the prize is 200,000€ and opponents are worth even more. Sometimes contestants leave with only some of their winnings, as they're hesitant to go on and lose everything. And sometimes you get to see the host do an awful horse impression!
2. Atrapa un millón (American version is called "Million Dollar Money Drop")
This show is just two contestants answering 8 different questions, each with four possible answers. Sometimes the contestants are two friends or family members, and sometimes the contestant is hooked up with a random celebrity. Whatever their relation, contestants work together to strategically gamble their original quantity of 200,000€ as they answer each question. For example, if two of the answers seem very plausible to the contestants, and they can't decide which to go for, they can divide up their remaining cash (literally bundles of 5,000€) to ensure that they move on to the next level. Whatever money they put on the incorrect answers falls through a trapdoor and into a large container. Most contestants only end up with 15,000€ or less by the end of the game, but that's still something to write home about.
3. Uno para ganar (no American version available, but literally translated as "One to Win")
Now this show separates itself from the others by involving much less knowledge, but a lot more grace, swiftness, and patience. Contestants must complete somewhat useless tasks with various household objects, within 60 seconds mind you, in order to move through each of the ten rounds, each time with more money at stake. The "one" in the name means "one minute" to win. The tasks start out easy -- maybe something like taking 120 tissues out of a tissue box one at a time with only one hand -- and they get harder -- we have yet to see anyone successfully stack three golfballs on top of each other. If the contestant beats every level, which has yet to happen, they win 500,000€. Some people are crazy about this show, especially the contestants. Most of them have seen every episode, and thus every challenge possible. In fact, there is an inventory of the tasks on Wikipedia. My favorite has to be the one that has the contestant wear a pedometer strapped around their head; within 60 seconds, they must head-bang their heads until the pedometer reads 125 steps. Keep in mind, they can't see the pedometer themselves, and so they basically just shake their heads violently for a whole minute. Enough to make you cry -- from laughter!
4. Tu sí que vales (again, no American version, but literally translated as "You're Worth It")
Some may not consider this a game show, because it's more like a talent show, but there is a contest and there is money on the line! This show is like "American Idol" in that it involves three judges that influence the fate of the contestant, but it is better because while there are many singers, there are also pizza dough jugglers, magicians, comedians, and dancers. Talk about entertainment! Both the audience and the judges get to vote as to whether the contestant is "worth it." If there is a unanimous vote, the contestant receives 1000€ immediately. Unfortunately, there is also the typical stern and sour judge, reminiscent of Simon Cowell. He has a stupid faux-hawk, wears sunglasses inside all the time, and is only popular because people think he "tells it like it is" when in reality he just likes to say no because it increases ratings. (This reminds me of the recent season six premiere of "30 Rock" where Jenna plays this cynical judge role -- see I still watch American TV, too!)
So now you know a little bit more about Spain's trashy TV programs. Show those "Jersey Shore" looneys that you're more cultured than them!
Pros: You broaden your vocabulary through random trivia questions (about both Spanish and non-Spanish people or things), you witness useless and annoying banter between the hosts and contestants, and even if you don't follow a word you can at the very least determine who has won and who hasn't simply by looking for frowns vs. smiles!
Cons: Native Spaniards think you're kind of strange for knowing so much about game shows!
 |
| The host of "Ahora Caigo!" welcoming the audience. |
1. ¡Ahora Caigo! (American version is called "Who's Still Standing?")
The set-up of this show consists of one contestant and 10 "opponents" who go back and forth answering trivia questions about anything from pop culture to literature to other game shows. If the contestant doesn't know a question, she has three passes to her opponent to avoid losing. If the opponent misses a question, however, she gets a big "aww" from the audience and then falls through a trapdoor underneath her feet. This same fate can fall upon the contestant if she uses all of her passes. So now I'm sure you can imagine the russian roulette ambience this game show has! Each opponent is worth a certain amount of euros to the contestant (1€ to 5,000€), so as she beats more of them, she wins more money. If she beats all of them she gets the ultimate prize of 100,000€. On the weekends, the prize is 200,000€ and opponents are worth even more. Sometimes contestants leave with only some of their winnings, as they're hesitant to go on and lose everything. And sometimes you get to see the host do an awful horse impression!
 |
| This "Ahora Caigo!" contestant is trying to determine "what English term is used when a soccer player makes three goals in a game." |
2. Atrapa un millón (American version is called "Million Dollar Money Drop")
This show is just two contestants answering 8 different questions, each with four possible answers. Sometimes the contestants are two friends or family members, and sometimes the contestant is hooked up with a random celebrity. Whatever their relation, contestants work together to strategically gamble their original quantity of 200,000€ as they answer each question. For example, if two of the answers seem very plausible to the contestants, and they can't decide which to go for, they can divide up their remaining cash (literally bundles of 5,000€) to ensure that they move on to the next level. Whatever money they put on the incorrect answers falls through a trapdoor and into a large container. Most contestants only end up with 15,000€ or less by the end of the game, but that's still something to write home about.
 |
| The stage of "Atrapa un millón" -- note the big pile of cash on the right. |
3. Uno para ganar (no American version available, but literally translated as "One to Win")
Now this show separates itself from the others by involving much less knowledge, but a lot more grace, swiftness, and patience. Contestants must complete somewhat useless tasks with various household objects, within 60 seconds mind you, in order to move through each of the ten rounds, each time with more money at stake. The "one" in the name means "one minute" to win. The tasks start out easy -- maybe something like taking 120 tissues out of a tissue box one at a time with only one hand -- and they get harder -- we have yet to see anyone successfully stack three golfballs on top of each other. If the contestant beats every level, which has yet to happen, they win 500,000€. Some people are crazy about this show, especially the contestants. Most of them have seen every episode, and thus every challenge possible. In fact, there is an inventory of the tasks on Wikipedia. My favorite has to be the one that has the contestant wear a pedometer strapped around their head; within 60 seconds, they must head-bang their heads until the pedometer reads 125 steps. Keep in mind, they can't see the pedometer themselves, and so they basically just shake their heads violently for a whole minute. Enough to make you cry -- from laughter!
 |
| She may look pretty now, but all contestants look like they're being electrocuted when they do this challenge. |
4. Tu sí que vales (again, no American version, but literally translated as "You're Worth It")
Some may not consider this a game show, because it's more like a talent show, but there is a contest and there is money on the line! This show is like "American Idol" in that it involves three judges that influence the fate of the contestant, but it is better because while there are many singers, there are also pizza dough jugglers, magicians, comedians, and dancers. Talk about entertainment! Both the audience and the judges get to vote as to whether the contestant is "worth it." If there is a unanimous vote, the contestant receives 1000€ immediately. Unfortunately, there is also the typical stern and sour judge, reminiscent of Simon Cowell. He has a stupid faux-hawk, wears sunglasses inside all the time, and is only popular because people think he "tells it like it is" when in reality he just likes to say no because it increases ratings. (This reminds me of the recent season six premiere of "30 Rock" where Jenna plays this cynical judge role -- see I still watch American TV, too!)
 |
| The host, judges, and other characters on "Tu sí que vales" -- note the jackass third from the left. |
So now you know a little bit more about Spain's trashy TV programs. Show those "Jersey Shore" looneys that you're more cultured than them!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Like a dish with sardines, Spain feels normal
It hasn't even been seven weeks, and Pamplona is already getting to me.
I mean, it's not home. It's definitely not home. But there are some things that were weird, and now they aren't anymore.
1. The double-cheek kiss. Remember when I mentioned that a few posts ago? Well, it's getting better. At least to the point where I don't feel like I've bruised my acquaintance's cheek from swinging my head in too fast. Five o'clock shadow rug burn doesn't even phase me anymore. In fact, I notice more when someone doesn't do the kiss.
2. The food. I can go to a market or grocery store without any kind of shopping list, and bring home a meal. Mostly because there's not a huge amount of variation in Navarran cuisine, which is what I try to make most of the time. If you've got bread, eggs, EVOO, leeks, potatoes, chorizo, onion, and garlic, you've got something. Add in peas, carrots, jamón, and some cheese, and you've got a multi-course meal.
A food-related aside -- Elliot and I have taken to sardines (of all things) as a sort of always-appropriate meal starter. We always keep a can or two around, and this weekend we underwent the four-hour task of baking a sardine empanada.
Perhaps a fish empanada isn't so strange to some, but my parents can vouch for the fact that I'm not an adventurous eater, nor have I ever had a taste for the sea. But I dug this. Dipping bites of this "pampanada" in homemade tahini was even better.
3. The language. The best moments are when we're out with friends, or maybe just watching a stupid Spanish game show (more to come on that, btw!), and I'm listening to someone speak when suddenly I realize that I'm following everything they're saying. I literally stop and think to myself, holy shit. I don't even have to try sometimes. My speaking has improved as well, but not nearly as much as my understanding. It's cool because I'm getting what I came here for -- a second language!
4. Teaching English. Elliot and I have eleven students we see every week (some twice a week). That means classes everyday, lesson preparation between classes, and biking or walking all over Pamplona to the students' homes. While this kind of work certainly means less hours relative to what we were used to in Philly, it takes up a lot of energy. Suddenly, English feels like the foreign language that I have to work on, as I attempt to break it down to very basic elements for my students.
5. Wine is cheaper than water. When it is sold by the bottle, anyway. And for this reason, I'm trying to rediscover my wine affinity. I used to dig it way more than beer, until I started drinking beer. But when I'm in a bar, and I order a beer, I'm always disappointed by how much it tastes like piss (i.e. Heineken, San Miguel, Amstel). Plus you can buy a nice bottle of organic wine for maybe 4€ (a little over five bucks), while an organic six pack will run you closer to 12€. And if I'm feeling real cheap and saucy, I could even go for the 0,65€ liter of generic vino tinto. That's right, I use measurements like liter, meter, kilogram, or centigrade, even if I don't fully understand their conversions.
In so many words, I'm starting to feel less out of place. While I don't think my life here will ever be boring, or even routine, I don't feel like a blundering foreigner so much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I make mistakes everyday -- in speaking, in understanding, and in orientation -- but I recover much faster, sometimes so quickly that no one really notices. At the very least, they don't say anything.
PS. Something I still have not gotten used to is taking my camera out of the house, hence the abundant pictures of food and the missing pictures of people, scenery, and buildings. I will try harder!
I mean, it's not home. It's definitely not home. But there are some things that were weird, and now they aren't anymore.
1. The double-cheek kiss. Remember when I mentioned that a few posts ago? Well, it's getting better. At least to the point where I don't feel like I've bruised my acquaintance's cheek from swinging my head in too fast. Five o'clock shadow rug burn doesn't even phase me anymore. In fact, I notice more when someone doesn't do the kiss.
2. The food. I can go to a market or grocery store without any kind of shopping list, and bring home a meal. Mostly because there's not a huge amount of variation in Navarran cuisine, which is what I try to make most of the time. If you've got bread, eggs, EVOO, leeks, potatoes, chorizo, onion, and garlic, you've got something. Add in peas, carrots, jamón, and some cheese, and you've got a multi-course meal.
A food-related aside -- Elliot and I have taken to sardines (of all things) as a sort of always-appropriate meal starter. We always keep a can or two around, and this weekend we underwent the four-hour task of baking a sardine empanada.
Perhaps a fish empanada isn't so strange to some, but my parents can vouch for the fact that I'm not an adventurous eater, nor have I ever had a taste for the sea. But I dug this. Dipping bites of this "pampanada" in homemade tahini was even better.
3. The language. The best moments are when we're out with friends, or maybe just watching a stupid Spanish game show (more to come on that, btw!), and I'm listening to someone speak when suddenly I realize that I'm following everything they're saying. I literally stop and think to myself, holy shit. I don't even have to try sometimes. My speaking has improved as well, but not nearly as much as my understanding. It's cool because I'm getting what I came here for -- a second language!
4. Teaching English. Elliot and I have eleven students we see every week (some twice a week). That means classes everyday, lesson preparation between classes, and biking or walking all over Pamplona to the students' homes. While this kind of work certainly means less hours relative to what we were used to in Philly, it takes up a lot of energy. Suddenly, English feels like the foreign language that I have to work on, as I attempt to break it down to very basic elements for my students.
5. Wine is cheaper than water. When it is sold by the bottle, anyway. And for this reason, I'm trying to rediscover my wine affinity. I used to dig it way more than beer, until I started drinking beer. But when I'm in a bar, and I order a beer, I'm always disappointed by how much it tastes like piss (i.e. Heineken, San Miguel, Amstel). Plus you can buy a nice bottle of organic wine for maybe 4€ (a little over five bucks), while an organic six pack will run you closer to 12€. And if I'm feeling real cheap and saucy, I could even go for the 0,65€ liter of generic vino tinto. That's right, I use measurements like liter, meter, kilogram, or centigrade, even if I don't fully understand their conversions.
In so many words, I'm starting to feel less out of place. While I don't think my life here will ever be boring, or even routine, I don't feel like a blundering foreigner so much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I make mistakes everyday -- in speaking, in understanding, and in orientation -- but I recover much faster, sometimes so quickly that no one really notices. At the very least, they don't say anything.
PS. Something I still have not gotten used to is taking my camera out of the house, hence the abundant pictures of food and the missing pictures of people, scenery, and buildings. I will try harder!
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