Yesterday I resumed my in-company English teaching after a very long summer break. Alongside the usual suspects there were several new faces, I was happy to note, variety being the spice of life and all that. Some of them were quite clearly terrified. If only they knew that I am a person who embarrasses herself on a thrice-weekly basis (remind me to tell you about the biscuit tin, please. The post is ready and waiting to be published.) I did my best to make them feel at ease. I had placed myself at the head of a long table, and as they straggled in one by one, each of them made for a chair as far away from me as possible. The last two had no choice but to take the seats next to me, panic clearly visible in their faces. I made a little joke about my not having body odour, so it was okay to sit near me. Ten pairs of eyes regarded me with suspicion. I resolved from that point on to eradicate all attempts at British humour from the lesson. Even with advanced level students, my quips tend to go down like lead balloons, or be ruthlessly misinterpreted. I remember, many moons ago, teaching a group of rather severe northern Germans business English. The phrase 'better get your skates on' arose, and I explained that it means hurry up. One guy looked perplexed at this. But Frau Anna, he protested, for sure this complete wrong. When you drive wiz ze skates on ze road, you will certainly need much, much longer to reach your destination. Vy zis strange comparison? Suppose it a joke to be?
I had to admit that it was rather silly, and could only offer a weak explanation, i.e. that on ice, skating would most certainly be faster than walking. All five of them shook their heads at this banal English expression. No wonder we don't make good cars, when our language is full of such inexplicable nonsense! A couple of weeks later, same group, I committed another gaffe, telling them that something (I forget what - it doesn't matter) was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Blank stares. I explained the meaning of poke, sharp and stick. And then how it all fitted together. Vell yes, Frau Anna, they said. Zat is self-understandable, not true? A sharp stick must very painful be, and then direct in the eye - vot could be vorse? I floundered, defenceless in the face of such glaring logic.
I leave you with one last tip. Don't ever bother trying to explain the age-old proverb 'you can't have your cake and eat it' to a man from the north of Germany, particularly if he is a metallurgist or something equally exciting. The process will exhaust you so much that you will wish to dive into the nearest cake - assuming that you have one, of course - and stay there until all the hair-splitting, earnest, humourless, grey-suited, rimless-spectacled Herren have left the room, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues and looking for a liver-cheese sandwich to help them through the rest of the morning.
I had to admit that it was rather silly, and could only offer a weak explanation, i.e. that on ice, skating would most certainly be faster than walking. All five of them shook their heads at this banal English expression. No wonder we don't make good cars, when our language is full of such inexplicable nonsense! A couple of weeks later, same group, I committed another gaffe, telling them that something (I forget what - it doesn't matter) was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Blank stares. I explained the meaning of poke, sharp and stick. And then how it all fitted together. Vell yes, Frau Anna, they said. Zat is self-understandable, not true? A sharp stick must very painful be, and then direct in the eye - vot could be vorse? I floundered, defenceless in the face of such glaring logic.
I leave you with one last tip. Don't ever bother trying to explain the age-old proverb 'you can't have your cake and eat it' to a man from the north of Germany, particularly if he is a metallurgist or something equally exciting. The process will exhaust you so much that you will wish to dive into the nearest cake - assuming that you have one, of course - and stay there until all the hair-splitting, earnest, humourless, grey-suited, rimless-spectacled Herren have left the room, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues and looking for a liver-cheese sandwich to help them through the rest of the morning.
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