After finishing her CELTA course in Mexico, Dee Fuller (right) went to Tulum to relax.
As she lay in the white sand, surrounded by Mayan ruins, she decided to write this poem for her classmates…
Eleven met by happenchance
on a cloudless, November day;
each with dreams & hopes to learn
how to teach the CELTA way.
Day one was an introduction
to how the course would go;
a simple, clear understanding
of what by the end we'd know.
With knocky knees 'n shaky hands
we stumbled right on through
our very first CELTA TP
on morning number two.
Classes prepped and new knowledge taught
gave new reliance to a pen;
an abundance of assignments
quickly cut us down to ten.
We 3 Staties, 1 Canady,
5 Brits 'n a Mexican by birth
daily guided by 2 lovely ladies
got more than a treasure's worth.
Crossword puzzles; wordy jumbles
more lessons and assignments, too.
Blurry vision; complete exhaustion -
are we only through week two?
Nerves returned and uncertainties revisited
as we teachers all switched places;
yet with quick adjustments 'n long reflections,
we discovered our teaching places.
Hours of planning, endless nights of typing -
do you know what happened to week three?
'Cause before we knew, TP 8 'n 9 were through
and CELTA teachers all were we.
Here we stand, us mighty ten
our days left down to one;
soon we’ll part and go our ways
to new classrooms, friends and fun.
But may I tell you, my dear friends,
forget you I will not.
For each day I teach, I know I’ll think
'n remember each member of this lot.
Dear Babsie, Randal, Jess, Will 'n Tom,
Roberto, Ed, Ali, Jean 'n Dee:
From teddy bears to wedding bells,
CELTA survivors all are we!
Con un poco de paciencia, imaginación y tiempo podemos sentirnos artistas en la playa.
