Hello,

I am one of the thousands of folk this year who, freshly printed CELTA in hand, evacuated job-scarce, grimy weathered Britain for the promised land of teaching abroad. Having worked pretty badly paid, unfulfilling jobs in the last couple of years after graduating from my second degree (Fine Art) and also had a bit of a turbulent relationship, I was attracted by the possibility of learning a new language in new, stimulating surroundings and earning a decent salary in the process whilst also having the free time to be able to continue working as a practicing artist, and had read-up and researched substantially before leaving. After three months in the field I am writing this testimonial because I feel that my experience of the TEFL industry diverges significantly from the image of it frequently portrayed.

Before continuing I should say that I'm in my late 20's, have two very good degrees (one academic, the other creative), can speak English, French and reasonable Italian, and have previously travelled, studied and lived abroad for long periods so I'm realistic about what to expect and have proven myself to be capable of adapting to a new culture and place and I thoroughly enjoy it. So, all those with the stereotypical image of some kind of pathetic Dickensian-waif wannabe fine art graduate who can barely organise themselves to make a decent cup of tea desist here...

Being a bit of a culture vulture I wanted to work in a big city so I was set on either Buenos Aires or Madrid, and after a month in Cuba travelling and picking up some Spanish (not to mention well-aged rum, cigars and an allergy to State-endorsed socialism and all things Castro), the state of my finances and proximity to home meant that I finally settled on Madrid. Arriving in late September, I hit the trail of finding a job asap-scouring the same websites I'd been looking at pre-departure as well as some local Spanish ones such as Lingobongo.

With all of the better-paid, more central jobs looking for a minumum of 2 years experience and various other criteria depending on whether it was teaching kids etc. I didn't hold my hopes too high of finding anything quickly so was casting my net wider to more regional cities at the same time. Despite even this, responses were few and normally enquiring as to whether I could take say a 2 hour class once a week in a town over an hour from the city. This had me wondering what all these wonderfully enthusiastic websites (yes the ones replete with all the ads for doing CELTA training courses at schools across the globe) were talking about when they say that possessing one of these blessed certificates is like finding the golden ticket for a job in the sun and had persuaded me to separate myself from the hard-earned wad of cash and endure a hard month of travail to obtain my own.... .

Still, buy the ticket, take the ride so nevertheless, I persisted, and with one eye on the rapidly plummeting bank balance and the other on the screen of my computer I either holed up for hours on end scouring the online ads or hit the streets to scatter my CV over Madrid language schools like a jilted bride throwing desperate confetti at potential suitors... Just when I reached the end of my tether and was thinking about hailing a Ryanair taxi for 168 home in embarrassed disgrace (a mere few weeks after setting off, after saying my goodbyes and trying not to make my friends puke with jealousy in the process of detailing my exotic and exciting plans for this wonderous new life) my mobile sprang to life and a desperate sounding woman with a strange accent was on the line. ''Can you teach a class from 2-4 Monday to Thursday?'' she asked. ''Well, yes, but I'm looking for a full-time teaching position I'm afraid''. ''Oh, don't worry we'll give you plenty more classes. Can you come for an interview tomorrow at 3?''... And so it began. The school, at the limits of the city, was some hour away on the metro, in a rather strange little satellite town where from either the cocaine and alcohol helpline posters or graffiti, the inhabitants principal occupation didn't seem to be the self-improvement and satisfaction that can be obtained through education. Still, beggars can't be choosers and at this point, I was definitely leaning more towards the begging side of this equation.

The 'interview' was at what I now know to be habitually described as one of the 'Mc Donalds' of language teaching schools where they have a very expensive marketing budget and schools all over the world, purporting to have their own unique, dynamic and effective method with a price that matches their fantastical claims of how quickly you'll be affecting a Cockney accent just like Guy Richie does. The farcical thing about this is that, having briefly spoken to the manager, a non-native English speaker just as she's a non-native Spanish speaker, I was then introduced to the Director who barely spoke a word of English. ''So much for their method or all the wondefully empowering advantages of speaking English'' I thought despite my best efforts to remain impartial... As I'd only been in Spain for about three weeks by this point my Spanish wasn't up for conducting an interview, which resulted in the rather comic scenario of speaking French with the Director, who then had to translate my answers into Spanish for the manager. After ten minutes of this I'd obviously managed to appear sufficiently unperturbed by their not so exhaustive questioning (which mostly focused on where I intended to live, and whether I preferred to work mornings, afternoons or evenings or would work weekends) to have earned the privilege of working in their glorious establishment.

''Can you start tomorrow?'' was asked, and as the sound of their promises of professional development and fantastic training had barely died, I was given a one-hour crash course in their trademark method which mostly consisted of being told the history of the company and its key principles. ''You've got the CELTA anyway, haven't you?'', thinking this was meant to be rhetorical, there was a long pause before I realised that actually, she didn't know. ''Eh, yes, of course-do you want to see my certificate?'', ''No, no, but if you've got that you'll be fine-we give you the relevant books for the students level and you are only allowed to use that material anyway.''

Great. A job. Finally. Not even the haphazard, slightly comic interview, the rushed 'training' or the mis-spelt 'Wellcome' sign on the school door could stop me from feeling slightly elated that I'd been promised a contract teaching Business English (no kids!!!) 20 hours over four days Monday-Thursday. It was exactly what I'd wanted and would give me a reasonable albeit inglorious salary of 850 Euros a month net, 3 days a week to do my own work, learn the language and explore my new home-Madrid, which with all its beautiful galleries, museums, parks and boulevards would easily help me forget the grimy little town I'd be commuting to the rest of the week.

Alas... From its dubious beginnings my expectations and optimism about what it would be like to teach English quickly faded. CELTA or no, as a new teacher you have a lot to deal with and preparing (good) classes is not easy, especially when the material you are given is frankly some god-awful highly Americanised exercise in banality that makes you feel like you've swapped your job at an English school to go and work for Dignitas. Quickly realising that if you use their material, frankly you will neither teach them anything or keep your sanity from repeatedly asking stupid questions to provoke the desired response, mornings are spent preparing classes, scouring text books or the internet, making flash cards and worksheets, that should at least pretend to useful for the classes of middle aged executives you'll be spending at least 4 hours a day in Madrid's metro system, which although fantastically efficient and clean, is regretfully still tiring and not my idea of personal or professional development. When you factor in preparation time, travel time and costs and things like photocopying, the already lower than expected 15 eur an hour is closer to 5. This equates to perhaps teaching 3 hours out of a ten hour period, eating lunch at 6pm, and watching in despair as people with the normal work schedules (that you previously hated and were trying to extricate yourself from) trot home at 6pm to go and play paddell or have a beer with friends and you have another 4 hours to go.

The classes themselves consisted mostly of apologetically disinterested business people who are being volunteered by their companies to sacrifice an hour's lunch or potential skiving time at the coffee machine to spend an hour or two hours a week having lessons they don't want or need, or both. To make motivation just that little more difficult, their levels are probably wildly different, a fact ignored by both school and business for the sake of economy or getting the contract, which means depending on the person the classes are either too hard, too easy or just not to their preference, which they are not shy about indicating in either case. They might also be making a show of following an online course replete with voice recognition technology that doesn't work and that you have never seen or been introduced to, so that in the rare circumstance they ask you questions about it, you can only grin and nod. Whilst doing my CELTA in Britain I was teaching classes of immigrants or asylum seekers who were getting free (although haphazard and sometimes bizzarre!) English classes. Apart from their contagious enthusiasm and gratitude for the opportunity, their highly interesting life stories and experiences-encapsulating wars, famine, revolt-sometimes seemed to be a personification of recent International news headlines, making each day seem much more interesting and satisfying. It is a different story when going daily into businesses or classrooms and teaching reluctant, overindulged and unenthusiastic students who, neither having to pay for or worry about using the skills they are learning to survive, lurch in twenty minutes late without pen, paper or homework, and proceed to resist any attempt to communicate in English.

The kind of support you might expect as a new worker in any role, although promised, doesn't materialise-be it resources, training, or other, and the most I got was the odd fleeting five minutes talking to an equally bemused fellow teacher on either side of the class before you scurry back down the rabbit hole and into the metro to hurtle towards a class that could be anything up to 29 metro stops and 90 minutes away. The long and short of it is, you're thrown in at the deep end, and if you swim-probably because you are conscientious or stupid enough to care about doing a good job and delivering a good lesson-the school takes credit for your professionalism in a totally unprofessional situation, you swallow your pride, look like a fool and trot on. If not, and the clients are unhappy (reasons for this could range from your accent being 'too difficult' or students being 'too tired to talk all the time' in a conversation class, or other) you will be whipped out of there and the blame rests solely at your feet for whatever reason. Lack of professionalism, incompetence, its your fault and they will have your replacement hustled up to the front line and pushed in there just as quickly as you can be pushed out.

Help dealing with Spain's sometimes seemingly deliberately obstructive administrative process was also unforthcoming-and had it not been for the kindness and patience of my Spanish flatmates I would probably still be without my national insurance number, hence freelance and totally unprotected by Spanish employment laws. Without this I was told obtaining my contract and getting my contract salary and hours was impossible, and it took from the beginning of October until mid December to obtain. The school gave no help whatsoever in dealing with this-all websites are in Spanish, and calling what may or may not be the right 'Oficina des Extrajeneros' no-one can speak English or even speak at a slightly slower cadence to facilitate some kind of comprehension. Until this time I was probably getting 12 hours of class a week-about 600 euros a month's worth of work and gained over about 40 hours-and totally in the dark as to when my contract would start. Madrid, like any capital is expensive and 600 Euros certainly doesn't go far. With the many bank holidays, and now with Christmas, this also means you are totally unpaid, and should classes be cancelled-which happens often-you are also out of pocket.

Some teachers I spoke to seem to think that this is normal or accepted. Choosing to be naive I would say that this is an unavoidable part of the process, a reality to be endured until you get past it. Being cynical, I would say that this is a commonly used excuse by schools to avoid giving you a contract thus keeping you on the hook and compliant. For example if you complain about travel time required for some classes, lack of support, quality of the material, or anything else, they can just pull the plug on you without any legal obstacle and there is such a mass of available replacements that you will quite literally be replaced with one phone call, which doesn't encourage them to be patient or understanding. I took to photocopying my lesson cards to prove the classes I had taught, as being in this situation makes you feel very conscious of your vulnerability. Without a contract and not speaking Spanish fluently who are you going to complain to should they unsummarily fire you or withhold your wages?

When I eventually got my NIE (Spanish National Insurance no.) I thought I'd finally be given my contract whereupon I was told that this wouldn't happen before January due to 'administration', meaning I was unpaid over the holidays, and also for the last week before Christmas and the first week of January, when most lessons are cancelled. By this point I was already feeling disillusioned with the classes, the travel, the lack of time to actually 'live' in the city or learn the language, and increasingly frustrated with the sly maneuvering of the school. So, when I was then told that my lovely four day contract was actually five days, and that the 20 hours was actually an 'estimate' and that if I was given a class in business hours I had to take it (i.e, 20 hours of class could become 35 very easily, with all the extra travel or preparation time that entails) I decided enough was enough and arranged a meeting with the Director. When I raised my complaints I was patronisingly told it was a matter of 'miscommunication' and fobbed off with excuses, but also subtly told I could make my mind up during the holidays if I still wanted a contract. Unsurprised but still taken with a bitter-cold fury, I gave a wry smile and thanked him for the experience.

The silver lining? Quitting and coming home a week early I avoided this years airport chaos and got to spend more time with my family... I was meant to be flying with Globesan and they went bust too so if you believe in omens someone obviously approved of my choice. And despite still being owed a months pay which I don't anticipate seeing, I am glad that I don't have to dread going back to that situation and actually be under a contract that will ensure I spend every waking moment running around the metro like a maltreated lab-rat en route to administering another dose of some kind of educational placebo. I find it was a disappointing experience and although not everyone will encounter the same, from talking to other teachers it seems to be both a worryingly common and under-reported phenomenon. I will be going back to Madrid next week and am as yet undecided as to whether I could face subjecting myself to the possibility of finding myself in a similar scenario, as although I now have a few months experience I am still far away from the apparently sacred two year benchmark. I feel most disappointed with the fact that mainstream TEFL websites or, for example, articles in a particularly well known and respectable newspaper (ahem) that seem to be unabridged press releases from the language schools that advertise with them, all give the impression that once you have gained your CELTA the world is your oyster and that you are instantly a respected an valuable education professional and can look forward to pay and conditions befitting such a role. The reality is that good employers that people want to work for will expect a much higher level of experience and education and that without it you will be subjecting yourself to at least 2 years of this kind of hell.

I have now read many accounts of teachers being ripped off, maltreated and mislead by schools in every country in personal blogs and forums, and although I know there are many people that have great, life changing experiences, looking at the long term opportunities for career development (with additional qualifications you could become a trainer, school director or owner) I now feel totally discouraged from continuing on this path and have the impression that there are a great many people who like me will fall foul of this system before they discover the same.

Being well educated and in my mid/late 20's I think there is still time to build a meaningful career elsewhere that will also involve travel or possible personal development and I do not want to imagine what it would be like falling into the TEFL trap and waking up ten years down the line and realising you've just been running static on some kind of escapism treadmill. As alluring as living and working abroad is, geographic displacement in itself does not equal life progress or improvement. A great many people on cite personal or relationship problems as a reason for doing TEFL, and to them I would say, great-do it if you want a break, to take stock or let wounds heal-long term you might just get lucky and find the life you've always wanted. However I would also say be very careful and very realistic because the same problems await you out there, and in addition to being exposed to wholly new and unforseen traumas or challenges, you won't have the same network or family and friends that you have here to help you deal with it. TEFL teachers are a transitory bunch and already in my short time teaching I realise that the same faces don't stick about for long. Anyone doing it as a long term career choice might be better served doing it as a taster before going home and doing a PgCE or advanced linguistics course in order to get onto the rung of the career ladder-and payscale-they deserve.