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I would tell it any friend and they would laugh.

«You, teaching English?»

and who could blame them? Of course not me. I still remember that long evening at the university spent writing hundred time on a shit il lievito (I did prefer to say lo lievito but any Italian’s grammar will consider it an outrage, an horrible and unforgivable fault). They hang the shit on the fridge, later.

Even now, I am struggling with Wordreference.com (I am joking. No internet, no Wordreference. So I try to help myself with the English dictionary of the writing software): how I would like that a tips giver would show up to correct all my mistakes and arrange the sentences… and then who wonders why I don’t write more often?!

But, believe it or not, the primary school’s English teacher seems to like the way I do and so Yes. I teach English. Actually, I really like spend the afternoons preparing the lessons, thinking how I can make some boring grammatical rules, funny. I like it even more when I see on the faces of the students that I made it, when I enter in the classes and they smile, whispering my name. When they go home knowing something new, this is my price.

When I had to teach the months and the seasons I made them cut, stick and color. When I had to teach them the ordinal numbers I told them the story of the Golden Blocks and the Three Bears. When I had to explain them the conjugation of the verb «to be»…. Well, I played Mime with them. I don’t know how much they learn during my lessons, but at least they pay attention and I am pretty sure that they have fun. I do.

If I remember it right, before learning a subject you have to enjoy it.

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