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I followed this route. Armed with a degree in journalism and English literature, and bolstered with a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) diploma, I travelled the path well worn by a vast number of ex-pats.

Green, and naive, my first job was through word of mouth. I should have known something was really wrong when my potential boss summoned me to view their "headquarters". This turned out to be a dingy office with an even dingier basement where the classes were taught. Peeling paint and patches of damp. What a start.

Things took a dramatic nosedive on the first day when my employer burst into tears as his wife had just left him. Day after day I´d have to endure him playing the same morose love songs over and over again between classes.

After work he insisted we have "de-briefs" in the bar across the road. All I wanted to do was get home, not be stuck as some pseudo psychologist sorting out this mans personal problems. 

The crunch came when on the night of my first wedding anniversary he forced me into accepting a lift home with him. What a dampener on my celebrations trying to get away from "Mr Needy", not to mention unprofessional.

My next foray into the teaching world was vastly different. I headed for one of the largest and more successful academies. I was paid handsomely, given classes with directors of several big blue-chip companies and had block hours, instead of having to work an hour on one side of town then the next on the other. I adored teaching. It was structured, I had complete autonomy and my students were highly motivated and engaging.

The only problem was the academy. I had to compartmentalize my love of the profession with the oppressive atmosphere at the school. The administrative staff and bosses were miserable and downright disrespectful. They couldn´t even muster a greeting when you dropped in.

There was also the "hidden" part of the job. The unpaid part. You didn´t get compensated for the travelling time, nor the twice monthly trips to hand in time sheets, the exam preparation and report writing or the numerous hours of annual training.

When I announced my pregnancy, the classes I was given almost diminished overnight. When I challenged my boss about it being related to my pregnancy, which was normal and healthy, he openly admitted it was the reason.

After the birth of my daughter I wanted a job that was flexible and not overly demanding. Even though the above mentioned academy pleaded for my return, I didn´t feel this was possible after the shabby treatment I´d received after announcing I was "with child".

My next stop was at a very posh and well known English kindergarten. I arrived for the interview and was shuffled to a sofa next to the reception area. I felt like I was at a wedding reception when I saw the staff. Towering high heels, voluminous designer dresses and inches of makeup. Not what I´d imagined to be the most practical for dealing with infants and toddlers!

The director of the school was very nice, and happy to negotiate a flexible timetable. But I would never have been able to afford one of those flouncy dresses with the pittance they were offering to pay. 

After leaving feeling rather dejected, I wandered home to my new apartment. As I stumbled down the street I came upon a tiny academy. I knocked on the open door and walked in. Crawling along the floor was a baby in a nappy, a similar age to my own, a cute Scottish terrier and a gold fish bowl. Now I felt somewhere comfortable.

Out popped the heads of a very nice Scottish gentleman and his Spanish wife. I told them I was new to the neighbourhood and would like to offer my services. Without even looking at my curriculum vitae they said a simultaneous "yes" which I thought was odd. Apparently the teacher they´d employed to start on that very day had failed to turn up. So I was a welcome sight.

The school was literally in front of my building. They were friendly, kind and very professional. The wages were decent and the children, all from my neighbourhood were in general polite and well motivated. At Christmas time I´d receive adorable little gifts like pottery bears, perfumes and boxes of chocolates. I loved the creative side of decorating our classroom and celebrating festivals like Halloween and Easter. Although, teaching children can have potential hazards, well for me anyway!

One extremely hyperactive child called Victor could never actually manage to stay seated for more than two minutes. And, after an over enthusiastic rendition of the song "Head and Shoulders Knees and Toes", as he bent down to touch his knees rather too rapidly his mouth hit the corner of a rather sharp desk. Cut to blood pouring out, a child screaming so loudly that his parents and sister came running into the classroom from the nearby reception area, and cue to a very embarrassed looking teacher. All I could see was my boss and his wife standing behind the parents shocked and open mouthed at what they were witnessing.

Awkwardly Victor and his family lived in the next building, and every time I saw them I had to profusely apologize for his wounds, which ended up needing three stitches. The following week when I asked the boy for his homework, he told me, "I´m sorry, I couldn´t do it. The doctor at the hospital told me I needed lots of rest this week". Needless to say I accepted his excuse without further probing.

There are various forms which teaching English can take. It can be for an academy, teaching at a Summer camp, at a school or on an intensive course. My experience spending a week working on an intensive course for high government officers was one of the lowlights of my teaching profession. Promised a months salary for a weeks work, based in a luxury hotel beside a beach near Castellon, it sounded too good to be true. That´s because it was.

The luxury hotel turned out to be a one star hostel, and I was forced not only to share a room with another female teacher, but a double bed. Slightly humiliating as I´d only met her for the first time when we were shown "our" room.

The first break I got was on the day before the course ended, and I managed a ten minute walk on the beach, albeit with fifteen of my students in tow.

We were expected to eat all our meals together with the students, and started the day at seven thirty, and taught actual classes until nine pm. Dinner followed, and finally we were free to leave at around eleven pm.

A rather unpleasant army general who was universally disliked by both the other students and the teachers became smarmy and lecherous one evening. When I reported it to my boss, he just laughed it off. I felt miserable, stuck in this town alone, working nearly sixteen hours a day and being subjected to a really sexist and horrible student without any professional support. Beware, make sure you study your contract clearly and have them outline all of your conditions and payment details.

Being new to a city, with only limited language skills can make you very vulnerable to the more unscrupulous operators out there. In saying that, teaching can be a very rewarding job with flexible hours and handsomely paid if you are lucky.

The biggest lesson I´d like to share about teaching English? Avoid sharp corners on desks when performing interactive songs with students!

Suzanne Bernard is an Australian ex BBC Television journalist and producer who has lived in Spain for ten years. Her husband who she met while working in London is a Madrileño, and they have a six year old bilingual daughter. Suzanne lived and worked in Sydney, London, New York and Amsterdam before settling in Spain. You can enjoy the trials and tribulations of Suzanne´s journey living in Spain regularly on our website and we look forward to your response to her pieces.