Page 16 of My Spanish Love Affair

I don’t have to wait long to be greeted by Sarah, the teacher I’m replacing. She can’t be more than a couple of years older than me, with long brown hair that frames her face in soft waves, a friendly smile - and ahugebaby bump.

“You must be Olivia,” she says, shaking my hand. “Welcome to the team!”

“Thank you so much,” I say, returning her smile. “Oh, and congratulations! I hear you’re about to start a new chapter yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s been a whirlwind,” she says, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. “I moved here a few years ago to teach, met my now-husband not long after, and... well, here we are!”

“That’s amazing,” I say genuinely.

“You never know,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe you’llfollow in my footsteps and settle down here.”

I snort out a laugh as I shake my head. Not that I want to go into too much detail, but… “I wouldn’t bet on it. I’m currently swearing off men after a particularly bad experience with my ex.”

“Ouch,” Sarah says, sympathy on her features. “Well, never say never. Spain has a way of surprising you.”

With that, Sarah begins to show me around the school, introducing me to some of the other teachers as we make our way round. Most of them are too busy to do much other than look up and smile in greeting, but I understand.

The plan for the next few days is to shadow Sarah before beginning to take control myself. Her first class of the day is a group of thirteen-year-olds, all wide-eyed and curious as they file into the room and see me sitting in the left hand corner behind Sarah’s desk. She introduces me to the class, and involves me as and when she can.

By the second day, I think that I’m starting to find my rhythm with the structure and routine. The kids seem incredibly enthusiastic about my presence, and their energy is infectious as they try out their English phrases with me. I’m pleasantly surprised at just how advanced some of their language is, although I really should have given them more credit considering most of them have been learning since they were tiny.

“You’re doing great,” Sarah says as we sit in the teacher’s lounge, tucking into our respective lunches. “The kids seem to like you already.”

“Thank you,” I say, honestly relieved. “I was kind of nervous. I didn’t want to mess up.”

“Not at all. You’re an absolute natural. Plus, the staff here are lovely, so they’ll be able to help you with anything you needonce I’m gone. Including any language hiccups.”

“Wow - am I really that terrible?” I ask.

“No comment,” she says with a teasing laugh and a wink.

∞∞∞

By the end of my first week, I feel like I’m starting to settle in. I’m really getting the hang of the lesson structure and the necessary lesson planning and general organisation.

I can’t lie, the work is pretty exhausting, but it’s also satisfying, and every day feels like I’m finding my place a little more.

Sarah wasn’t wrong about the staff, either - they really are so lovely and welcoming. It’s a small school, and even the headteacher has been wonderful.

It’s during lunch on Friday afternoon that I’m invited out for drinks with some of my colleagues.

“You have to come,” says Ana, a lively German teacher with a wicked sense of humor. She’s very much decided that we Modern Foreign Language teachers will stick tightly together, and I can’t say that I’m displeased by the sentiment. “It’s a tradition. Friday drinks are non-negotiable.”

“I second that,” chimes in Elena, who teaches art. “It’s the perfect way to end the week.”

I glance over at Sarah, sitting serenely with her tea.

She chuckles at my uncertain expression. “Don’t look at me,” she says, patting her belly. “I’m officially at the ‘feet up and rest’ stage. You go and have fun. I’ll be here next week to help you survive the chaos.”

“Okay,” I say, laughing. “I’m in.”

I walk through the main shopping plaza on my way home every day, and today is no different.

But now, I find myself hesitating.

It’s been ages since I treated myself to something nice to wear, and after a week of teaching in flats and practical outfits, I feel like it’s time for a little treat.

Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon, the plaza is bustling. I’m not in a particular rush - we aren’t meeting until later on in the evening - so I take my time browsing the different stores. I eventually find the perfect dress: a soft pink dress that falls to my mid-thigh in a light, floaty fabric that’s cinched at the waist. It feels effortlessly chic, and I decide to pair it with some cute heeled sandals and a light denim jacket.

---