MY TEACHING EXPERIENCE

I was born to be a teacher.
I went to the right school to be a teacher. The Ecole Normale Hebraique of Casablanca.
I had the right interviews to be a teacher.
But life didn't help me and I ended up becoming a salesman. And my customers thought I was such a good teacher when I explained what my product could do for them.

In the early 60's, Canada needed more immigrants, preferably French speakers for the province of Quebec.
So here were their representatives in Rabat and Casablanca trying to convince people to come to their country.

My father was one of the people they interviewed because he was interested in immigrating to this new country after having tried Israel without much success in 1955.
To convince the authorities, he told them that he had a son who would be a teacher in a few months. It seems that they liked the idea because they said that they needed teachers. So the process was a little faster.

In less than six months everything was done, medical exams, passports, packing and the date was set to take a boat to Gibraltar on May 8, 1964

The small problem, which my father did not realize or did not care about, was that in June of that same year, I had to take the baccalaureate which would be a supplement to my teaching diploma from the Ecole Normale Hébraïque

The date arrived and we took the train from Rabat to Tangier, then the ferry to cross to Gibraltar.

I will skip the details of the trip, there were ups and downs along with the arrival, to talk about my experience as a teacher.
We were so excited when we were told that the country needed teachers, that I felt it would be a piece of cake.

The main school organization in Quebec is called: LA COMMISSION DES ÉCOLES CATHOLIQUES DE MONTRÉAL.

1

I go there and apply for admission. Five people interviewed me, three men and two women. They ask me questions that I answer correctly. Everything looks good and I could get the job for next September.
Then one of the men makes a comment to me:
- It is understood that you will be teaching Sunday school on Thursdays.
To which I replied: I don't mind, since I was once a Catholic.

2

At this point, the five of them jumped up in their seats, staring at me with crazy eyes and asking, "What do you mean you were once a Catholic?
To which I replied very simply that in my application I had written that I was an Israelite
Again, they were amazed that they didn't know what Israelite meant. They talked among themselves and then one of them asked me: Are you Jewish?
I simply answer: In my world, we call ourselves Israelites, but if you prefer a Jew, well yes, I am a Jew.

They were all shocked and after a long silence, one of them said to me
- Well, sorry, this is a Catholic school and we don't hire Jews and as far as we're concerned, you're Protestant so we suggest you go to the CONSEIL DES ÉCOLES PROTESTANTES DU GRAND MONTRÉAL.
A little confused, I took my papers and went to the door.

I get home and my parents ask me how my meeting went. And I told them the shock. My father couldn't understand, because he kept saying they told us they needed teachers, so why didn't they hire you, to which I replied, we'll see tomorrow, because I'm going to the Protestant Council.

And now I'm on my second interview.
To this day, I still remember the name of the person who interviewed me, because it left a pretty bad taste.
When I told the man that the Catholic Commission suggested I come here because I am Jewish, he said, oh yes, all Jews come to us.
Show me your papers. I did. He looked at them and said: Everything looks good, now tell me how many years of experience do you have?

What a shock, I just got out of school, I'm 19 years old and this guy wants to know how many years I've spent teaching. What should I tell him?

3

I tell him that apart from the various pedagogical steps I have done, I have not taught yet.
To which he replied: You can't hire people without experience, and he added, by the way, your papers say that you can teach French, Hebrew and Arabic. Forget Arabic (he didn't know that 40 years later Arabic would be taught in Montreal schools), but since you have Hebrew, maybe you can go to TALMUD TORAH, which is the Jewish School Board.

I'm back home and I'm telling my parents about my experience and they are once again more frustrated than I am. I wait until tomorrow to go to Talmud Torah.

As I sit in the waiting room and see the director going back and forth from office to office, after fifteen minutes I tell him
- Sir, I am here looking for a teaching job.
He looks at me and says, I thought you were a student.
Come with me. I sit down in his office and he realizes that my English is rather poor, almost non-existent and he asks me: Are you a French Jew? I tell him yes.

He has never seen one. He asks me further: Have you studied French literature?
When I answered yes, he became curious: Do you know Voltaire? Do you know Victor Hugo? Do you know Molière? And so on.
As I answered yes, he now asks me to tell him what I know about French literature.

Later he said: we can't hire you because even if your papers are good in MOROCCO, here they are not, so I suggest you come to our JEWISH TEACHERS SEMINAR, and after two years get a diploma and you can teach.
I ask: can you tell me what is the program of this seminar?
After telling me what it is about, I answered: you see, I have done all this before, why should I repeat it?

And his answer was: "By the way, you have done all this in French and Hebrew, here you will do it in English and Hebrew.
What could I say to that?
Realizing that this third interview was my last chance and that if I wanted to teach, because this is all I had learned in my internship, I would have to adjust my plan. The thought of doing anything else never crossed my mind.

I never thought about being a doctor or an accountant or a lawyer, much less a plumber or a technician. My only goal in life was to be a teacher. And this country doesn't give me the opportunity or the possibility.
After a few minutes of reflection, I agreed to attend the seminar.

Once again, I explain my difficult situation to my parents. They are understanding.

The classes were three hours a day, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday from 6pm to 9pm and Sunday from 9am to 12pm.
Two years later, I received my diploma. I applied for a job, but none were available. I have to wait.
In the meantime, I got engaged to this young woman from Egypt who was also studying to become a teacher.
Three months later, I get a phone call and a job opens up for me in Selkirk, Manitoba, as if it were Tupelo, Mississippi or Oakmulgee, Oklahoma. It's so out of this world, and being engaged, I turned down the offer.
Three months later, a new offer was made. It was in Winona, Ontario. It's not too far away. I accepted the offer. But I get more feedback. This community not only needs a teacher, but also someone who can do prayer services on Shabbat and holidays.
It is true that my education allows me to be a Hazan and Cantor, but I am Sephardic and this congregation is Ashkenazi. The two liturgies are so different that they won't understand me and I won't understand them either. Also, most Jews in Canada speak Yiddish and I speak Hebrew.

So I had to decline the offer.
So, after three years in Canada, where I was not interested in teaching, I became a salesman and teaching helped me a lot, because with time I became a great salesman and I made a living that way.

Lecteur, si tu as un commentaire, une idée, une suggestion, s'il te plait communique la moi à Jacques@SagesseOuEsTu.com