Tuesday, March 31, 2009

les riches de Casa

This is my new job. Going from major office building to major office building and teaching some of the most well off people in the city. The good thing about the job, I am like an independent contractor, having only to check in with the school weekly. The rest of the time I just show up at my gig. The great thing about my job is that I am getting to see so many different neighborhoods and buildings and meet people that I would not normally have access to.

The downside here is that I am meeting people that are economically able to out dress me. I think it is generally known that you do not become an ESL teacher to get rich. The thing is, I am used to teaching international students who are themselves living in a different country, most of the time working under the table and generally struggling. I am not used to this new breed of Moroccan corporate executive, dressed to the nines with an attitude to match. This is new for me. I am certainly learning to adapt. I am learning which sectors are worse than others with this stuff. I am also getting to know these students and thoroughly enjoying their company during class.

But there are these moments where I find myself waiting in the lobby of a massive bank, with the seam around my left ankle totally frayed and dust marks on my boots, starring at the parade of high heeled boots, fishtailed mini skirts and extremely tailored black trench coats, marching by. In these silent moments for me it is a struggle to feel up to it. It is a struggle to quiet the demonic voice in my head telling me to enroll in intensive private French classes and "give these people your CV woman so you can dress like that too"!!!! In these moments I have to remind myself that I left and, before that, turned down the access to this kind of a life. I have to remind myself that I had a three hour nap in the middle of the day and I walk along on the shore on my breaks between classes and eventually I'll get some new clothes!

Then the class got cancelled and I had some of the best ice cream I have ever tasted at a café called Oliveri. They specialize in ice cream. I only know that Oliveri and their ice cream even exist because I work in the neighborhood and figured it out on my own. So yeah, not the best dressed person at Oliveri but maybe the proudest.

1 comment:

cutiepiespacepop said...

"...with the seam around my left ankle totally frayed and dust marks on my boots..."

that is a story in and of itself...love that...