Can Raspalls is one of Ibizas many primary schools. It is found just outside the town of Sant Jordi, opposite an instituto (secondary school) and has both pre-school and primary classes. It is mixed, starting with children as young as three and going up until eleven/twelve year olds (year 6). It is fairly big, with two classes for each year group, and has roughly 300 students. The school is public (so no uniform) and follows the Balearic government’s bilingual system; working in both Castellano and Catalán. Time is also devoted to learning English. This is where I come in. As a language assistant, I help in both English lessons and in Art, which is also taught in English after the government introduced a law encouraging schools to dedicate more hours to the language.
I work at Can Raspalls twelve hours a week, spending one hour with each class and the occasional break-time with infantil (pre-schoolers.) Seeing so many different faces makes it hard to remember names and get to know the children; a disadvantage of working at a big school. My first lesson is usually around 10am yet despite this civilised start, I continue to leave at the last minute and end up corriendo to make it in time. I get to school by bike, staying loyal to my Dutch roots, which the children find fascinating as bicycles are not really considered a mode of transport here. Many wave and cry out to me when I cycle past them and I’m often told, excitedly, ‘Daphne, I saw you on your bike yesterday!’
In terms of my job, the idea is that I speak English to the children as much as possible. This isn’t easy with the younger ones whose knowledge is limited to colours and numbers. With years one and two, I am more useful as an extra pair of hands than as a native speaker; handing out paints and helping to cut and stick. Although it is questionable how much English a six year old understands, they always love saying ‘hello’ and telling me their name while I walk around the classroom. Lessons with younger years end up being very short as it takes a while to restore order at the beginning and the children get out their desayuno (snack) ten minutes before the end.
Rather than the average bell, break time is signalled by the blaring of music, children streaming into the playground while some upbeat Catalan song plays in the background. Like any other school, break is when the teachers congregate in the staffroom and usually feast on some birthday treats. (Here people produce a whole spread of snacks; bags of crisps, pan con tomate, chorizo, cake, any excuse to share food!) This is when I head over to the nursery playground and read The Hungry Catepillar or something similar to tiny eager faces who like the pictures more than anything else.
English conversation is a little more successful with the older years. Although some become dismissive and reluctant to talk, others can speak enough English to tell me about their weekend or after school program. Again, it is difficult to stick to just English when asking questions as many raise their eyebrows, claiming they didn’t understand a word. I can’t blame them, if a Spanish speaker started talking to me at that age, I wouldn’t have any idea what was going on. Even so, the more exposure they get the better; you learn a lot about patience and perseverance in a classroom.
School ends at 2pm (or whenever the music starts again) and the children are picked up and taken home for lunch. Some stay to eat at school if they can’t be collected but I’ve been surprised by the number of both mums and dads who come daily to get their children. I’m normally starving by this point so I head home on my bike for a warm lunch and a lie down before the afternoon begins…
La Buena Vida 