In the summer of 2001 I boarded a near-empty Qatar Airways flight to Doha. Reuniting with my family who’d recently moved there for my father’s new job, it was my first time living abroad.
My first English teaching job came at a run-down old school called The Language Institute. The facilities were basic and dreary, the materials outdated, while the students were a right bunch of characters who quickly helped me develop as a teacher.
My all-male classes were incredibly challenging, albeit for very different reasons. First were my intermediate guys, a depressing combination of tardy, lazy, disinterested and unnecessarily wealthy. Then there was the elementary circle, a collection of sullen-looking men who behaved as if violence had been threatened against their loved ones should they ever attempt to produce an English sentence.