Sitting down to write this in the heat of the Italian summer, lessons have finally simmered down, but my brain is racing at 100 miles an hour! I'm genuinely so grateful to have this period of reflection, and I can't wait to write these thoughts down so that one day I can look back on this exact moment in my teaching journey.
Honestly... this year wasn't the easiest.
Opening a new studio from scratch meant being thrown in at the deep end with lesson planning, course design and, of course, all of the admin that comes with running a business. But amongst all of that, I've noticed one small shift in the way I now plan my lessons, and it's making me genuinely excited to start again in September.
That one small shift has completely changed the way I think about teaching.
Earlier this year, my engineering student and friend introduced me to the idea of efficiency — the ratio of output to effort. At exactly the same time, I was beginning to feel the effects of burnout.
I realised I was planning my courses lesson by lesson.
I'd spend ten hours at the studio, come home, look after the children, get them to bed, and then sit back down at my laptop for another two or three hours planning the next day's lessons.
Safe to say, my efficiency ratio wasn't looking particularly healthy!
But it wasn't just my efficiency that was suffering.
When I was constantly trying to reinvent every lesson from scratch, I wasn't giving my students the very best version of myself.
Then, around February and March, I had what I can only describe as a little lightbulb moment.
It all started after two of my fantastic ten-year-old students designed an "International World Peace Party" for Carnevale. I have to admit, I was completely inspired by them. Their empathy, creativity and curiosity about the world made me realise there was so much more we could explore together.
From that lesson came my first real unit of learning: Around the World.
And what a success it became.
Instead of rushing from one disconnected lesson to the next, every activity had a purpose. The children built on what they had learnt the previous week, connected ideas together and finished the unit by creating work they were genuinely proud of. More importantly, they weren't just learning English — they were using it with confidence and purpose.
Shortly afterwards came another realisation with my youngest learners.
All year, I'd been exhausting myself trying to invent new games, buy new resources and think of exciting crafts every single week. Looking back, many of the activities were fun... but I had to ask myself an important question.
What language were the children actually taking away from these lessons?
Then came my second lightbulb moment, and it's all thanks to the wonderful book Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
At first, I thought it would fill a single lesson.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
That little story became an entire unit of learning.
Week after week, we revisited the same language through different experiences: games, colour recognition, animals, sequencing, movement, creative activities, memory challenges and storytelling. Instead of becoming bored, the children became increasingly confident because they recognised the language and knew how to use it.
Watching them walk out of each lesson with secure foundations in colours, animals and simple sentence patterns reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten:
Children don't always need something new.
Sometimes they simply need more time.
And that's exactly what I'm working towards now.
It might still be July, but I'm already so excited for September.
This summer I'm redesigning my children's curriculum into meaningful units of learning rather than isolated lessons. My challenge will be maintaining the creativity that makes my classroom such a happy place whilst ensuring every activity has a clear language purpose behind it.
I'm also preparing my very first teacher training session for our wonderful art teacher, Tania. Together, we'll be developing projects where creativity isn't simply the end product, but the vehicle through which children communicate, collaborate and grow in English.
Looking back, it's funny to think that the biggest change I've made wasn't a new resource, a new qualification or a new teaching technique.
It was simply changing the question I ask myself when I plan.
Instead of asking,
"What are we doing this lesson?"
I'm now asking,
"What will my students be able to do in English because of this learning journey?"
For me, that small change has transformed everything.
And I have a feeling it's only the beginning.
