After the mountain trek I decided to try my luck at a TEFL Course (Teaching English as a foreign language). Although not strapped for cash just yet I observed my funds ever decreasing and realized that if I didn’t do something about it I would be home early in the new year (and I certainly wasn’t entertaining that idea).

I found myself sat behind a desk in a classroom, in Kathmandu, for the first time in over decade.

The first week was all theory and passed rather quickly. We were treated to an intense array of input, which highlighted the fact I knew nothing at all about grammar. My Czech co-trainee Kaarels knowledge far surpassed mine (which wasn’t all that difficult, it has to be said). I didn’t know my arse from a past participle and adjectives and adverbials became to me an increasingly confusing pile of bollocks.

Before I’d got my head around nouns – it’s…the….name….of..a…person….place….or….thing (shit, I’ve got to teach this to the little fuckers) – week two arrived and I was to put my meager knowledge of the English language to the test- IN A CLASSROOM!!!!

Suited up and with two pens in my shirt pocket for effect I walked into my first class.

“That is correct Watkins. ‘War and Peace’ opens in the year 1805.”

“good morning teacher, ” a sea of forty plus smiling faces shouted out in chorus.

“Are  they talking to me?” I presumed they were and , upon greeting them, motioned for them to be seated. They obeyed my command in an instant.

Hmm, what else can I make them do??

I conjectured that I had this teaching business sown up and proceeded to give them quite a random lesson based upon a selection of animal facts I’d half-inched of Wiki-pedia. The week saw me teach another three lessons in a row; although my skills left a lot to be desired I felt rather pleased with my progress. I was confidently able to blag my way through the forty minute long lessons, more or less, upholding the facade that I knew what I was doing.

“In the year 1880 which famous Russian author penned the classic ‘The brothers Karamazov?'” “WHICH IMBECILE SHOUTED TURGENEV?!!!!”

On the final day of week two (whilst observing Karel teaching) a young girl asked me if I was famous, mistakenly believing she had seen me on ‘The Discovery Channel’. At that point Kaamal (my trainer) asked me to introduce myself to the class.

“Hello, I’m Scott,” I began. “I’m an English teacher from England, and no, I haven’t been on television.”

“You have been in a Bollywood film though,” Karel blurted out: at which point I was mobbed by thirty odd pupils brandishing pen and paper and asking for my autograph.

Week three and four saw more of the same teacher on pupil action. Although by lesson seven my authoritative grip over the students slipped when I was thrown in to teach a combined class of fifty odd excitable youths. The Nepali teacher (who was sat at the back observing) leapt up, brandishing a large cudgel and threatened to bray any one who didn’t give me their full attention. My Grammar lesson still died on its arse but I got through it without a child receiving a beating (which was pleasant).

Only the god-forsaken nursery rhymes module was left to go, and if you can picture me standing in front of a class singing “if your happy and you know it clap your hands,” then I needn’t elaborate.

It made me laugh later the following week (once I’d successfully completed the course) when I was collecting my bike from the TEFL office. A local kid must have recognized me from class and started singing “If your happy and you know it” as I cycled past.

Me, Kaarel and the kids