Language Films,
Gay Bars and the Man on the Farm.
The four-week
Cambridge University fronted language course I took in Krakow last year
was one of the most intensive and strenuous learning curves I have ever
taken. I have never been big on talking to large groups of people as the
thought of which used to always seem terrifying. I grew out of this
dehabilitating trait once I became used to standing in the centre of a
classroom and teaching groups of students about key English grammar
while being observed by peer teachers and marked by the director of
studies on my performance. This was my initiation into Teaching English
as a Foreign Language (TEFL), and taking CELTA turned out to be one of
the best decisions I have ever made. The course had such a huge impact
on the adaptation to life on the continent that I decided to make a
documentary film about the integration process of TEFL teachers and the
effects they are having on their students and their new environment. I
started filming for the project this week and the people I have
interviewed and observed in action so far have been splendid subjects
for this exciting new documentary project.
I am mostly
interested in the impact that the TEFL industry is having on Europe,
particularly with regards to the immigration, assimilation and the
impact that native speakers of English are having on the countries they
are moving to, as well as the effects that the students of English are
having on the United Kingdom and Ireland. Over the past year I have been
able to observe some of the effects TEFL teachers have made on Poland
and how the Polish have reacted, this weekend was no exception, hopping
from one extreme to the other I was able to observe just how a handful
of teachers living in Krakow are able to make an impact.
After filming for
the documentary I made my way to the centre of Krakow to meet with a
group of friends who are working as TEFL teachers in the city. The plan
was to initiate some new teachers into the frivolous drinking habits and
irresponsible nightlife rituals that frequently take place among my
close friends and former colleagues over the weekend. We met in the
centre of town outside one of the large chain stores in the market
square; it had been a while since we last met as it is tendency for
teachers to work for summer schools outside Poland during the months of
June, July and August. We walked down one of the various avenues off the
Rynek and found ourselves in a regular haunt, a pub located in a dark
alley and up a long flight of wooden stairs, hidden from the boisterous
clans of stag party fanatics, boozing in the town centre. We each sank a
series of beers and vodka shots while catching up with each other and
generally causing annoyance to the Polish regulars. The new group of
teachers we accumulated seemed to be into the festivities and celebrated
their newfound love for the price of alcohol in Poland. After three or
four drinks we decided to trek into the Jewish district of Kazimierz
where several bars and clubs can be found on the popular ‘old
square’. The drinking continued heavily into the night, and as our
selected group of TEFL teachers started to disband into the murky
streets of the Yiddish Quarter, the remaining few occupied one of the
bright, stylish and flamboyant gay clubs in the area. Upon arrival
however, we discovered that the dance floor was practically empty, which
meant the watchful barman and his team of security guards observed the
drunken antics of our TEFL squadron closely.
Poland is a rather
intolerant country when it comes to race, religion and sexual
orientation, which is somewhat disappointing. There are often online
news stories written about anti-tolerance marches and aggressive right
wing ‘Catholic’ gangs that preach their hatred and loathing for
specified minorities. I am trying to explore the roots of this unchecked
aggression in one of my documentary projects, but it seems that unless
these thugs are in a march, group or gang they are determined to remain
anonymous and difficult to locate.
The empty bar
suddenly filled with a group of about ten girls, who joined the TEFL
clan in dancing to cheesy pop songs of the early eighties and shaking
their skinny hips to the likes of Nelly Furtado, Justin Timberlake and
Vanilla Ice. It wasn’t until this point that the bar staff began to
relax and soon started clambering onto the bar and bopping along to the
beat of the drum, smashing glasses on the floor and causing a general
ruckus. The girls then invited us to the biggest and most popular gay
club in Krakow for more shambles. Only several of the TEFL team were
sober enough to make it to the party, it was then we were to discover
the girls plan to lure several of my TEFL troop into their lesbian lair
of rude dancing and lust for laughs.
The gay club is
located on the top floor of a party multiplex just outside the centre of
town, we found the place to be busier than ever and it was here that I
felt the most comfortable and united with the Polish people who speedily
swarmed me. It was in a mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor I was
able to confirm that although TEFL teachers in Poland have a reputation
for drinking and partying in the local pubs and clubs, the influence
they have on the Polish people of the same generation is in fact rather
small. The majority of clients in the club were thoroughly piefaced on
super strong slammers, foolishly cheap lager and mysterious multi-coloured
cocktails, unsurprisingly without the aid of a small group of teachers.
After a nuance of boogie and a catalogue of vodka mixers it was time to
leave. Living in Bochnia and having to wait another four hours for a
train led me to stay in the city with a friend I met while taking my
CELTA course this very time last year.
After very little
sleep, a breakfast of granary bread, cereal and coffee and a hot shower
I spoke with my TEFL accomplice about his experiences in the industry
since we took the intensive teaching course. Due to my friend being
Australian, he told me that there were several employers that had
problems with him not being an EU citizen and so he had to work several
jobs cash in hand. Private language tuition also seemed play a large
roll in his work, but the irregularity and cancellations of private
one-to-one students make this line of work a real challenge. He told me
of his love for Krakow and his reasons for staying in this fascinating
city, it is not difficult to see why TEFL teachers choose to come back
after the summer months to continue teaching here, it is a city that can
provide all the privacy, social shenanigans and spontaneous day trips
one could ever wish for. Baring this in mind it came increasingly
difficult to understand as to why one of our fellow CELTA crew had
decided to move way out of the city and buy himself a small farm on the
outskirts of the region. I soon made contact with the man in question
and jumped on a bus to the nearest town he would be able to pick me up
from. Although the ‘tolerance’ level of the drunken youth of Krakow
seemed to be extremely high, the forbearance that Polish villagers may
have to a man of Pakistani origin living in their segregated community
may be a little different.
The bus journey
took me sixty kilometres north east of Krakow to a tiny town, it was
there my chum greeted me and we made our way to his rundown farmhouse,
which is an additional fifteen kilometres from the small town. I asked
him about his experience in the area so far and I explained that I had
even experienced problems in Bochnia as foreigner so I was prepared for
a negative response. On the contrary I was informed of my friends
account of his stay so far, it seemed he too was worried about the
reaction to his arrival as it is clear he is foreign from the colour of
his skin alone, but he proceeded to tell me he had never felt more
welcome in a closed community before this. He told me that his new
neighbours frequently cook for him and they are even helping him build
his house! A little astonished I listened to my friend’s anecdotes
about his quirky new buddies and how they all help him out. It wasn’t
until we arrived at his farm that I realised just how sincere he was
being, upon arrival I was introduced to an elderly couple who were
working on building a new wooden garage, they were very pleasant and
sung the praise of my friend as a neighbour. I was then introduced to an
English speaking local journalist who lives close by and visits my pal
frequently. My friend and I reminisce of our time studying for CELTA and
he tells me how, although he is happy he did the course, he is pleased
as hell to get out of the city of Krakow and to have found a new life
and a new project. He told me he currently works as a science teacher in
Wroclaw as his central occupation but that he spends every weekend at
his farmhouse, his kingdom. The property is a wreck, the main house is
falling down, the two large barns to the right are dilapidated and the
wooden construction his friends are building is far from completion.
Nevertheless he sleeps in his settlement and uses his neighbour
facilities when he gets desperate for a shower or a good meal. Of course
this is only a temporary arrangement he tells me, once the property is
in full working order he will live here and make a living from growing
crops and vegetables on the swathes of vacant land he has behind his
assortment of buildings. The English-speaking journalist invites us for
dinner at his home, where I am introduced to his wife and fed platefuls
of fresh eggs, tomatoes, bread and cheese while we drink red wine and
sip coffee. Not particularly fancying the idea of sleeping in my friends
crumbling house, I stayed with the journalist and his wife, who treated
me as one of their own and invited me to join them for breakfast in the
morning. I hit the hay feeling almost a little jealous of my friend’s
new lifestyle with some of the most tolerant and hospitable Poles in
perhaps the most unlikely place.
I was woken to the
sound of a pig being executed in a barn a few doors down, the sound was
worse than a child screaming which enabled me to easily reinforce my
reasoning behind deciding never to eat meat again. I then joined my
hosts for breakfast, a feast of fresh produce collected from the
surrounding neighbours, and we discussed Polish art and its ties with
modern day politics over several rounds of toast and piping hot coffee.
My hosts invited me back to visit whenever I like and drove me to the
tiny town I got the bus to from Krakow. Although a little thrown back
and fascinated by the unanticipated scenario my friend on the farm is
now in, the journey back to Bochnia was a reminder as to why I could
never live in a place of this nature; although the community may have
seemed idyllic and almost utopian, it is so far away from anything, the
possibility of a social life outside the area would be almost
impossible. By the time I got back to Bochnia I was damned tired and
ready for a good nights sleep.
The
continuation of the TEFL documentary film continues next week at
International House as a new group of hopefuls prepare to plunge into
their first week of CELTA; for sure they will be nervous and perhaps
even undecided as to where their TEFL journey will take them. However,
it is clear to see from my experiences over the last couple of days that
whether it be frequently exposing naked flesh on the dance floor of a
gay bar, buying a farm in the middle of nowhere or just making a film
about the whole thing, the life of a TEFL teacher is paved with scandal,
opportunity and choice, it is down to the boldness and willing of the
individual as to where their adventures may take them.
Copyright
Daniel Emmerson 2007-2008 All Rights Reserved