Teaching English in Spain

9 October, 13

People in Spain are pretty eager to learn and practice their English, as long as it is in an informal setting, when nobody is around, and they already know what they are going to say. In other words, they are pretty shy about speaking anything other than their mother tongue. It takes a while for people to warm up to you, just to make sure you won't laugh at their weird pronunciations. Usually I can catch them comprehending my English, and I give them a sly smile and say that I can tell they understand English. That's the ice-breaker.

One of our friends, Soledad, has three kids, and she is desperate for them to get some good training in English. Her oldest son, Joaquin, already speaks better English than I do. He is 12 years old, and he reads, speaks and understands very well. We talked for 30 minutes about futbol, Mindcraft, Star Wars, Legos and friends.

Then his little sister came barreling out of the house, yelling for me to run. I asked where and started into the house. Soledad was yelling help,

or something like that, from the kitchen.

I walked in to find the stovetop engulfed in flames about two feet high. It was a grease fire, so I knew not to put water on it. I tried to move the pan, but everywhere I turned were things that were flammable. I put it back down and tried to think of the right words, quickly, for "I want a big flat plate to put on top of the pan, so I can smother the flames." Try to say that calmly to an hysterical mama that thinks her house is about to burn down. Somehow I got my point across, and we got the flames down to manageable, but not out. I just couldn't get a good seal on the pan. I then walked out the front door with a grease flambé in hand. Once I got outside, I was able to remember the words for baking soda, soda bicarbanata. That comes from shopping for Susan, while she was laid up with a bad back. For the brownie recipe. Yum!

So that put out the fire, once and for all. We all breathed a little sigh of relief and walked back into the kitchen, to survey the damage. The flames had melted some of the range hood implements and darkened some of the wall, but nothing too serious. Close call.

Then I saw the big fire extinguisher, extintor, sitting on the wall. That would have been a good idea, too, except it was out of date sometime in 2007. Soledad got that fixed the next day.

So English words we taught the kids:

1. Now that's a fire!
2. Where's a freaking cover for this pan?
3. Get me a hot pad! My hands are catching fire!
4. What were you cooking?
5. What the h#@^?
6. What's the number for 911? (By the way, in Spain it's 112)

Well that was a productive English lesson, with a little Chemistry and Emergency Management thrown in the mix too. Not a bad first lesson.