A day in the life: Teaching in Colombia

6:00 AM - Early Birds and National Anthems

The alarm rings. I roll over and squint at the time. It's 6 AM. Before I can even think about snoozing, I hear the national anthem playing on the radio outside. Ah, yes, another day in Colombia. To be honest, I'm cutting it fine since school starts in 45 minutes, but back in the UK, I’d have at least an hour and a half more sleep, and I would have woken up to rain gently tapping on the window. Here? It's the Colombian anthem at full volume, reminding me that everyone else is already up and has probably had two cups of coffee by now.

Speaking of coffee, in the kitchen, my lovely husband is busy brewing “tinto” (Americano). I inhale the intoxicating smell and say, “Uyyyy cafecito! Gracias, amor mío (thank you, my love)" as he hands me a cup.

He chuckles. “Cafecito? Mírate (look at you), 100% Colombiana. In Colombia, everything gets a little -ito added. In theory, "ito/ita" is diminutive; it makes things smaller, so hermano is brother, but hermanito is little brother. Contrary to every textbook you’ve ever read, there’s no such thing as "café” here – it’s nearly always "cafecito", or if you want something else, maybe a "juguito" (juice), or some "panecito" (bread). But the funniest part is, ‘little’ doesn’t mean ‘less’. That morning's “cafecito” is still a full-sized cup. The food my husband will eat for breakfast, "arepa", turns into "arepita", not based on its size but on how much the eater is looking forward to it. In Colombia, "ito/ita" means love more than it means small, so in my husband's case, it is "arepita" much more than it is not.

6:25 AM - Buñuelo Run: My Tasty Morning Ritual

After my morning shower, which absolutely cannot be skipped – Colombians are very particular about cleanliness – it's time to leave. Before heading to the bus stop, I take a quick walk around the “manzana” (the block) to the neighbour’s house, where they sell freshly made “buñuelos” from their front window. As you can imagine, no, she does not have the health and safety paperwork you’d need if you lived somewhere else, but every morning, like clockwork, there’s a small line of my “vecinos” (neighbours) waiting for these golden, cheesy delights. I can never resist grabbing one (or two, or five – in my defence, they're quite small) for the road.

6:30 AM - The School Commute: Buses, British Politeness, and Colombian Vibes

It’s almost time for school, so I hop onto the local bus. Even by rush hour standards back in London, this ride is a bit, well, snug. One thing I’ve learned: there’s no such thing as personal space on a Colombian bus or anywhere in Colombia, if I'm honest. Every time another person squeezes in, I can hear my British inner voice politely saying, “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t mean to impose, but could you please shuffle over?” Here though, everyone just laughs, exchanges a few "buenos días", usually shortened to just “buenas” so it can be used any time of day, or “¿Cómo amaneciste? (how did you wake up?)”, and somehow makes room. I’m starting to get used to it, even if that man did just step on my toe!

6:45 AM - School Begins: The “¡Profe!” Chorus

Arriving at school, I’m greeted with a loud chorus of “¡Hola, Profe!” and high fives. Colombian students are a particularly lively bunch, far more energetic than anyone back in the UK would be this early. They are also much more tactile; these high fives were negotiated down from the hugs I used to receive.

We head to the first class, where I co-teach English with Profe Mauricio. Co-teaching means different things to different people, but in our classes, I'll teach until it's clear they need something explained in Spanish. I started off refusing to have any Spanish spoken in the class and was surprised to find that kids very rarely have English classes in English. I figured I could fight the status quo, but I very quickly learned that the key to really fitting in here (and anywhere else really) is to be like the Guadua (a type of bamboo that grows at the end of my garden); firm but flexible.