A couple of months ago, out of the blue, I received a phone call from an Italian student whom I had taught in Britain over twenty-five years ago. I’d taught him both Italian and French, the latter to A level. “Why did he need to learn Italian?" you may ask and the answer is that, until the advent of television, many Italians spoke only dialect, and, although that was not the case with regard to this student, he needed a qualification in standard Italian to get a job if he returned to Italy. So he needed practice in the written language and, of course, training in exam techniques. Well, all these years later he’d found my blog, recognised me and looked up my phone number here. I was delighted to hear from him and later received a follow-up letter telling me all about his life now. He is a successful businessman in the UK.
Hearing from, or about, former students is nearly always pleasant and, like most teachers, I have some with whom I have always kept in touch. One told me that, a few years ago, she was in the Louvre when she bumped into 2 other students from her school and her year. All 3 agreed, she said, that I had made them want to go there one day. That was one of the best moments I ever had, for your exam “successes” are one thing, but knowing that you have inspired someone is quite another. I like to think there was a little bit of me there in the Louvre with them that day.
You will note that I wrote “nearly” at the beginning of the above paragraph, for there is the odd occasion when you meet a past student and want the ground to swallow you up, as was the case with me one fine day in Cardiff: I was strolling along a fairly busy street, minding my own business, when all of a sudden an enormous, battered American car with music blaring out of all its windows screeched to a halt beside me. A very large young man leapt out at me [for a moment I thought I was going to be mugged] and shouted, “I know you! You used to teach me French!” and then I found myself clasped in a bear hug. “What are you doing these days?” I asked, when I got my breath back. “Oh, I’m gonna be a DJ”, he declared confidently. “Oh, that’s good”, said I. “Where? – Locally?” “Yeh, up London” replied the young man. [I remind you that I was responsible only for his French, not his geography!] Then there was the “tough guy” student whom I gently persuaded that it would not be in his best interest to “duff up” a colleague of mine to whom he had taken a dislike, to put it mildly. Years later, I encountered him working as a security guard in a Cardiff supermarket. Every Saturday morning he would greet me there loudly with a “Hello, Miss. Want anyone done over this week?”
Today here in Sicily I was walking along with Simi when a young woman stopped her car, got out and asked me in Italian if I was “Signora Pat”. It turned out that she had participated in the first Cardiff-Modica school exchange that we did back in 1993. She remembered the experience well and we had a good chat. Now she is studying English part-time at the University for work purposes and may need some help. So not only was I reminded of that first, fateful visit; I think I have got me another student!
