I've left my favourite camp tale until last. It's one of my favourite dinner party stories due to its complete and utter unpredictability and bizarre outcome. When it happened, as you will read on to find out, I was utterly speechless, felt hysteria rising inside me and wondered why I ever thought teaching English in Italy was a good idea in the first place...
The Tablemat Saga
When you arrive at a camp run by the company I was working for, all the tutors set upon the resources like gannets. Shouts of 'I need the markers, I have the young kids!' and 'Who's taken all of the size 7-8 t-shirts!?' ring out from the staffroom and often full-on fist fights break out over the animal masks and cut-out clocks.
These resources are by no means necessary to teaching, but when things are getting rough on a Friday afternoon sometimes whipping out the bingo cards gets the kids off the tables and back on track.
One of the more useful resources for this is the tablemat: a simple white piece of cloth with a blue border, can be combined with the fabric pens with wonderful results. My children were of an age where they could understand a lot of English - specifically vocabulary - and when I taught a class on 'I like' and 'I don't like' I decided to give them an easy second lesson: to draw 'something they liked' on these hallowed tablemats.
Kitty saw my plan and wanted in on it in a big way. Her children were far too young to understand the difference between Italian and English let alone 'like' and 'doesn't like' so her children were given free reign. I chatted with Kitty while my kids drew British flags, cats, dogs, love hearts, and other such things that tempt the magpie-like eyes of chidlren.
Kitty's children integrated with mine really well, despite the age gap - with one exception. A little boy had segregated himself from the main group - quite happily, mind. He was naturally a loner and ever-so slightly odd - a lovely little boy, but very much a space cadet (not on the planet).
Anyway, after a while this little boy had folded up his completed tablemat and was busy throwing it up and down. Kitty called over to him: 'Have you finished? Can I see?' The little boy was more than happy to oblige. He ran over and handed Kitty the little parcel. She unfolded it gingerly.
In amongst the aforementioned childish frippery going on in the room, this little boy had drawn a perfect technical diagram of a toilet. Plumbed in and everything.
I was utterly gobsmacked. I wanted to laugh more then than I have ever wanted to in my life. Of course I didn't - I didn't want to break this little boy's heart. I bowed my head to compose myself, then joined Kitty in enthusiastic encouragement.
I fear we may have encouraged him a little too much. Later on that day Kitty got a further three technical drawings of a lav. From different angles...
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