Days of UIMP

Every Monday morning a new cohort of students filter through the corridors into one of the 18 classrooms.  The girls with their long sun-kissed tresses, and short shorts showing off their perfectly formed, Mediterranean embalmed legs.  The guys saunter in alongside in predatory packs appearing nonchalant and I wonder if they even realise the sheer quantity of buttocks that suggestively peep out of the shorts with each feminine stride.  Just another week on the UIMP.

The morning starts with the level test,
"So, I´m just going to ask you a few questions to get an idea of your speaking level" I say, "They start easy and get gradually more difficult.  I won´t correct, but you can ask me to repeat or we can move onto the next question"
I´ve perfected this spiel to a tee, complete with explanatory gesticulations and falsely perfect pronunciation, so it's technically devoid of any possibility for misunderstanding to the Spanish ears which means I can tell a students level from the expression on their face before I even start the test.  

A look of calm understanding means Superior, they know the English Language better than you do but perhaps still couldn't tell you what 'small talk' is.

Eager understanding means Intermediate, they understand and can speak very well but there are still many phrasal verbs to learn!
Those mouthing the words are Basico, the haven't heard the language spoken by anyone but their Spanish teacher who pronounces beach like bitch.

A furrowed brow is what we refer to as Pre-nivel, they don´t understand what the fuck you´ve just said but got the fact that there will be questions so they listen out for the words the understand and say everything remotely related. They are the best at bluffing and invariably end up in a class too advanced.  Good on em I suppose, these are the people that bluff their way through life and make it to the top.These are the students, more or less.  The teachers, however, are something else to be marvelled at.  Usually stumbling in hungover or half-drunk, if they managed to make it in at all, the 'twenty-somethings' or 'the dark side' as i've dubbed them are the smallest but most raucaus clique.  Evenings spent getting fucked, morning spent recovering and afternoons spent contemplating on how fucked they were last night and how fucked they are going to become again in the very near future, that is if they aren't soberly counting their pennies until next payday.

The Oldies, or the 'mature teachers' are just as colourful.  Gotten past the stage in life of giving a shit, they do what they do, have a glass of wine at lunch then fuck off back to their villas in the suburbs.