What did you want to be when you were young? I wanted to be a priest before I wanted to be a policeman; after that, I wanted to be a manager or an executive of a company. I remember playing with the Yellow Pages book, acting like it’s a very important document. I also wanted to be a door-to-door salesman because I saw one of them using a tablet before tablets became a common thing. When I was older, I wanted to be a programmer because I loved computers. I also wanted to be a game developer because I loved games.
These were all fancies, and I never thought about what I should do to achieve any of that. I didn’t know what it meant to be something or someone, and I don’t think I quite grasp that concept even now. When the time came to pick a high school, I struggled with the choice. Obviously. Who expects 15-year-old kids to decide about the course of their lives? Kids forced to blindly follow orders for the last 9 years (even more, in some cases), kids stripped of the possibility to play, to learn at their own pace, kids tied down in an old building, listening to things they are not interested in… In the end, I picked a technical high school, which I left for a grammar school after 1 year. This allowed me a little bit of limbo time to find out who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do.
At first, I was sure I wanted to be a lawyer. Then, under the influence of Beats, I wanted to be a writer. Then a philosopher. After that, a historian. And finally, a few months before graduation, I wanted to be a teacher. I don’t know why the last choice came about. I guess that years of frustration with what I perceived was wrong with the education system led me to believe that I can do better. Classical messianic complex of an adolescent. I wanted to give something of value, something worthwhile to the students. Something I myself found missing in all those years spent in school. I wanted to give them a glimpse of what life can be.
Of course, I understood that no school can prepare me for that, that no school can teach me what I wanted to pass on. Life itself has to teach me. And I knew that at 19, I wasn’t in a position to even try talking about it. I don’t think that I could do it now, almost 7 years later. Needless to say, I didn’t follow that dream. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t know what life was, and if I were to be a teacher, I wanted to be a good one.
Fast forward 6 years, I was in Essaouira, a medium-sized coastal town in Morocco. I was on a retreat, running away from the cold, dark days of winter in Slovakia. At first, I wanted to travel around the country, but after a few weeks in Essaouira, I decided to stay there. The town had everything I needed – mild weather, ocean, surfing, good and cheap food, and the relative anonymity I longed for so much.
Coming home from dinner one day, I met a young barber who lured me to his shop to get a cut. I decided to give it a try since I’d always cut my beard at home before. We quickly became friends, and I always stopped by when I passed his shop afterward.
One day we were talking, and he mentioned English street class to me, and that I should consider visiting it. He explained that it’s an English class happening every evening in one of the side streets, and anyone can attend it for free. A local teacher founded it a few years before, and the project kept growing ever since. My friend didn’t wait for a minute and introduced me to the guy behind the project.
When I met Mouhcine for the first time, he struck me as an energetic, ambitious, yet selfless person. He was enthusiastic about me joining the class, which, as I later learned, was his default mode of operation. He had a lot of things going on – I always saw him with his phone hanging from his neck, running errands all around the town. When you walked the streets with him, you could really appreciate how many of the Essaouirans knew him, both local and foreign. Over the three months I spent there, few people independently told me about his work for the town. He was an epitome of “do more, talk less.”
At first, he offered me to lead a lesson right away, but honestly, I didn’t feel ready for such responsibility at all. We agreed that I’ll visit the class next day, just to see what’s going on, and if I’ll like it, I can try leading one afterward. I was scared. I’ve never done anything similar in my life before, and although this was something I wanted to try for a long time, I wasn’t sure of myself. Who was I to teach anyone anything? What did I know?
Next evening, on my way there, I felt very small. I found the tiny, tucked-away cul-de-sac full of chairs, with a whiteboard hanging at the dead end. Around 20 students in total attended that day. It was a mix of different ages, teens as well as adults, each one in a different place in life. Despite their differences, one thing connected them: their dedication to becoming a better version of themselves. They sacrificed those 2 hours every day to learning and improving, voluntarily. One of the things which you need in order to learn something is the acknowledgment that you are going to be a fool at first. That you are going to suck in whatever it is that you are trying to learn before you can even think of mastering it. These people acknowledged that fact every single day, and they grew with the challenge.
Don’t be fooled – this wasn’t your ordinary English class. Rarely did the students sit in front of the whiteboard, listen to the teacher, and take notes. On the first day I was there, we went into the streets in teams, talked with strangers, explained our mission, persuaded them, and collected money, which we used to buy food for people in need. We all learned not only English as the language but also bravery, confidence, cooperation, solidarity, the value of volunteering, and much much more. Usually, the classes were interactive, with the core of the activities being tasks that required creativity and out-of-the-box thinking. Every week, there was a new visitor from a new country, and we learned about their culture, their story, and their experiences.
It may be true that the students weren’t prepared for any sort of formal test. But I’d say that they enjoyed the classes way more than any other English lesson, judging by the fact that they attended every day. And I bet they learned things more useful than they ever would in an ordinary school.
I joined the class most days throughout the rest of my stay in Essaouira. Although I only taught a few lessons, I was captivated by the whole thing. I felt inspired, I felt like a part of a community, I felt useful after a long time, and the whole experience made me a more grateful and confident individual. I will always admire their dedication. Props to Mouhcine, props to all the people who make this possible, props to all the students. English street class for every town. I can’t wait to get back, to feel that energy again, to be part of something meaningful.