Despite the obvious linguistic challenges of teaching English to a class of children too young to read, early feedback seems positive. The introduction of “Head, shoulders, knees and toes” was something of a coup. I don’t know whether it is the simplicity of the song with its accompanying actions, or the sight of me doing them, that amuses the children so much. But, even though I get in a bit of a muddle as the music gets faster, touching my toes instead of my ears, and despite one or two of the children over-balancing and falling over, it gives us all a good workout, and guarantees their complete attention for at least 10 minutes.

Bizarrely, for me, I noticed a curious reticence at first, on the part of the parents, to engage in conversation with the “Prof”. True, I do dress more formally than usual for the class, and, following a tip from a friend, wear my specs rather than contact lenses – better for peering over and looking stern – but the reality is that my lack of experience means that I am very much acting the rôle. Even so, judging by the gushing thanks as they swept up their kids after the first couple of classes, I must be due an Oscar. We have all seen this sort of behaviour before when we, ourselves, were at school … that awkward meeting with the Principal, whenever our parents were summoned to explain some deficiency in our upbringing.

May be my disguise is wearing thin, but things seem to be easing a bit. Last week’s class started with Sophie’s mum explaining that, although Sophie appeared to have learned quite a few English words, she did not feel like repeating them today, thank you! Unfortunately, it transpired that the previous week Sophie had delighted in telling her astonished parents that she had been learning all about the fesse.  To her surprise and frustration, instead of congratulating her, both parents burst into laughter. As neither speak English, it took Sophie several minutes until they finally understood that she now knew the English names for parts of the face. It was only a slight mispronounciation, after all. In French, les fesses are buttocks …

In the same vein, a Welsh friend of ours was mystified as to why one of the local bar owners gave him an odd look whenever he said “merci beaucoup”.  It took a while before it became apparent that, instead of prounouncing beaucoup with a nice round oo sound (as in ‘cool’), he was emphasising the u (as in ‘queue’). This had the effect of turning beaucoup into beau cul, or “nice arse”!