A short one today, as I have a busy morning ahead (a job interview!)
And in fact, it’s been a busy period since, when? Mid- to late-March, when we had our Spring Sale, which was a lot of work.
Then after that I was writing some poems – I’m now waiting for some ideas for illustrations from the Club’s graphic designer.
And since then I’ve been dragging my worn out body and brain, long day after long day, through the final weeks until the apparently ever-receeding mirage that will be the Easter break.
One good sign is that my English-teacher colleage, Charly, has managed to cover the school with fragments of yellow and blue cardboard.
She’s been organising hordes of little people to produce intricate ‘Happy Easter’ cards during their final lessons before the holiday, happily covering the classroom tables with smears of glue as they do so.
The glue’s a clue.
We’re nearly there!
Talking of children, see today’s P.P.S. for a poem about pre-schoolers – an old one, but it’s cheerful, which is what’s needed today. The others, mostly about death or conflict, would have been much too gloomy!
Now then, where was I?
What to do after falling off your bicycle, right?
Well, everyone knows that, I’m sure.
You have to get back on and ride some more.
Otherwise, you’ll be frightened to in future, and all the progress you’ve made will risk being lost.
Cioè my Swedish.
Two Tuesday’s ago my teacher cancelled, with effectively no notice.
A couple of days later, the retired Swedish guy (a club member), who I have great conversations with on Thursdays, couldn’t Skype due to family problems.
Which left me an entire week with no Swedish (though much more time to write poems…)
That Friday, my Turkish teacher turned up, as usual. Then I spent the weekend bopping to music and listening to DJ chat on Turkish radio.
So by this week, it seemed that every word of Swedish had vanished from my head.
And any attempt to say anything in that language came out ass-backwards (Turkish grammar being rather different.)
Monday, hoping my Swedish teacher would actually show up this week, I decided to knuckle down and write up the notes from the previous six weeks of online Swedish lessons.
I’d been ignoring them, as it’s a laborious task – copying and pasting the teacher’s notes from Skype, one at a time, checking any words I didn’t know online, and so on.
And as I said, I’d been busy.
The whole process took several hours. Fortunately the school was quiet on Monday afternoon, the kids being occupied making Easter cards…
But by the time it was done, my head was back where it should be! And yesterday’s online lesson went OK.
In fact, the break seemed to have freshened things up a little.
So there, I’m back on the road again, peddling along, sun on my back, krock (a lovely Swedish word that I picked up reading about traffic accidents on the E4) forgotten.
Has your study regime gotten stuck in a rut?
Then get off and push a little. Or ask someone to push for you.
Just a little wanting to might be enough to get you back on track, as it was for me.
Talking of Tuesdays, yesterday’s EasyItalianNews.com is here. Reading/listening to it is FREE, so do try.
And here’s the promised poem.
It’s a moment from the pre-school class I teach on Thursdays. The smallest kids are three, the oldest five.
No, mum, it doesn’t rhyme.
And yes, dad, it is like a story – sort of.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a poem.
While you kids are colouring
(quietly, that’s lovely,
and it’ll last a couple of minutes)
I’ll do the register
Now, who’s here?
Sebastiano, are you here?
Elena, are YOU here?
Edward, are YOU here?
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Marta, are you HERE?
Yes (I’d type that in a smaller font, but don’t know how)
Eugenio, are YOU here?
Giacomo, are you here?
(I can see he isn’t
but there’s a tradition to follow:
calling every name)
GIACOMO, are you HERE?
I repeat for effect
NO! Sebastiano shouts back
his tone suggesting
I should know better
Elena informs me
Brianna, are you here?
The last name
on the register,
the niece of a former student
from Peru, I think
her mother just told me
she doesn’t speak Italian
No answer, then
but I don’t insist
maybe next time
I modify my voice,
Two more minutes, kids,
then finish your pictures
“I don’t have colors at home”
“I have LOTS” says Edward.
Tell your mum and dad
that colors are important
and everyone nods –
One minute! I announce
and start tidying away
the colored pens
into plastic pots