EIS member Nadine Mery shares her personal experience of volunteering in an English street class in Morocco.

The nights are drawing in and the perfect time to soak up some sun is during the October week. Some friends decided to take a trip to Morocco and I decided to join them with my 13 year old son. I thought it would be a great holiday with a chance to experience a different culture and, no teaching!

Morocco was fantastic, all I thought it would be: friendly, welcoming people; beautiful weather; great food; fabulous scenery. However, rather surprisingly it also gave me an opportunity to take part in some teaching.

I had mentioned to an old friend that I was visiting Morocco. She has been many times and put me in touch with a primary school teacher. Her exact words were “My friend Mouhcine Camel who’s a teacher runs English Street Class for young Moroccan people who can’t afford English Lessons. He’s always on the lookout for volunteers so if you want to volunteer to teach at a class one evening, it’s great fun and a great local experience.”

I thought this would be a great opportunity and I contacted him before I went. WhatsApp is a great invention. We met for a tea in the main square in Essaouira where he told us about English Street Class. It happens every night for people at different levels and on a Friday everyone can come to, what Mouhcine calls, ‘a global lesson’.

The students are encouraged to go into the busy streets of the Medina and interact with English speaking tourists to build their confidence. We were available on the Friday night so he invited us to take part in a global lesson in the ‘classroom’. We were all set.

We arrived just before 8, the class begins after 8 as the street lights come on at that time. It is too dark any time before that. Mouhcine took us to where English Street Class is located. Down a very dark narrow street he stopped beside a wall. On it was written ‘English Street Class’ and then he began to tell us its story. He told us this street used to be a hangout for drug addicts and prostitutes but not now. Every night young people arrive to learn English.

“Out of this darkness comes knowledge” he explains. They don’t have much just some plastic chairs which they keep in a locked yard and a white board which he hangs on a gate. As well as the streetlights, neighbours leave their outside lights on for Mouhcine. “People are kind.” he says. Before the lesson starts, he disinfects the ground.

There are many street cats in Essaouira and the narrow streets can smell quite bad. The students begin to arrive, and they help to put out chairs. “There’s not too many people I comment,” feeling slight relief, as I’m quite nervous. “They’ll come, Nadine.”

By the beginning of the lesson the street is packed with students aged between 12-22. There is an excited buzz as they see our 6 new faces. The lesson begins and we all get up individually and tell the class a bit about ourselves.

I’m the only teacher: we have 2 school children, a university student, a vet and a Scottish Government social researcher. After that they are given time to write questions to ask us. They’re put into groups, and they are all on task enjoying the idea that they can ask us anything.

This could be any class, anywhere: some of the students never stop talking, others hardly speak. All groups have questions to ask us and what impresses me is how much thought has gone into them. They ask Sandy, a first year university student “What has been the hardest thing you have had to face in your life so far?” I’m asked if I would allow my son to marry a Moroccan girl. And get a rousing cheer as I say, “If she is kind, thoughtful and a good person, yes, of course, he could marry a Moroccan girl.”

Perhaps my son and his pal might appreciate their schools in Edinburgh a bit more after seeing people gather in a street to be taught.

The evening flies by and time is up before we know it. It’s been great fun even my son and his friend, who really didn’t want to come, have lasted the whole session and haven’t hated it as much as they thought they would. Mouhcine thanks us and the students give us a round of applause.

They all get up to leave but many come to thank us personally: the boys shaking our hands, the girls giving us big hugs. It has been a great night and the genuine positivity in the street leaves me feeling glad that we made the effort to go along. My friends who I cajoled to come with me are also happy they came. Perhaps my son and his pal might appreciate their schools in Edinburgh a bit more after seeing people gather in a street to be taught.

I am lucky, I love my job but, even so, spending time at English Street Class has reminded me that teachers do make a difference to lives in a good way. We spend a lot of time reflecting on what we could have done better, worrying about if how, and what, we’re teaching is helping children and the wider community.

Sometimes we need reminded that our role is invaluable, and we should be proud of the job that we do. We need to remember that teachers are the most important resource that schools have. For that I have Mouhcine to thank: “Shkran lak”.