No Sex Please, We're Teachers
By Kamal Sunavala

I know, I know. The popular title has always been No sex please, we're British. These days English teachers are up for grabs as well. I have been teaching a wonderfully diverse bunch of students in Prague for about six months now. Lawyers, security managers, financial geniuses, you name it. And all of them are the average decent man with a family or the sparkle of one gleaming in their eyes. Lessons everyday are really a fun time because they are almost always had over coffee and the latest office gossip. It's all about conversation, isn't it?

One bright Tuesday afternoon I walk into the office of one of my top legal students and announce to him before he plies me with excellent coffee that he has to take a test in a couple of weeks. He waves the notion away with a laugh but somehow in the next fifteen minutes I do manage to get the foreign idea across. At which point, he slowly starts to circle the room like a vulture, takes off his suit jacket slowly, sexily, I am surprised to notice, tells me I smell wonderful and that I should come away with him for a weekend at his cottage in Karlovy Vary so we can make mad passionate love and forget all about this silly test. I protest mildly, tell him to stop making propositions and get on with the prepositions. He tells me that once I get there I won't be able to resist his charm and his cottage and then it won't matter whether he fails or passes the test. I protest once again although my voice is a notch louder this time. He pours me heartbreakingly fresh coffee and gives me a slice of the freshest goddamn apfel strudel this side of the German border. I take a bite and shake my head at him. He strokes my arm and kisses my knuckles one by one. Not unpleasant if one thinks of the action by itself. But when I think of the reason why he gallantly offers his toned body to me I wonder if he is actually planning to prostitute himself for the sake of a few phrasal verbs.

Adjourn to the high rise offices of my student who is just about to earn his PhD in an unpronounceable but nevertheless very important financial subject. I spring the news of the test on him and he tells me that he has no time for it. So sorry. I am flexible and suggest he tells me when he would be free to take it. He glances at his calendar and taps his pencil consistently upon his desk. At this point I am thinking, how wonderfully professional he is and dedicated too. He looks up and says one word. Radisson. I am confused. I am aware of what it is but I don't see the connection. He explains to me in dulcet tones that he would love to buy me brunch this weekend and then drive me out to his 'country house' for a weekend of tennis and horse-riding since I love both activities so much. I thank him kindly for his offers and ask what the occasion is and he says it is nothing more than an expression of his appreciation for my endeavours. I am almost weeping with joy when, in passing I hear the word test. So I wait expectantly for the date only to hear him ask me if I wouldn't mind forgetting about the test. After all, a weekend of tennis and horse-riding and perhaps a night cap would do anyone in. Maybe we wouldn't be able to return until late Monday evening. Oh yes, that irresistible offer again.

As I sat around our Bohemian flat and discussed these two episodes with my friends, I was surprised to hear similar stories. One colleague had received the interesting offer of a threesome, the other had been kissed without so much as a by your leave and had to consequently leave herself, the third had been offered a weekend in Hradec Králové for an 'interesting time' and the fourth had been offered a body massage in exchange for the list of exam verbs and tenses.

Is it moral depravity? Or is it merely a 'cultural difference'? I would be hard pressed to choose. Without embarking upon the prudish wagon, I admit that all the offers have been good ones. The students are attractive and the teachers are young. Tourism and willing tour guides are naturally welcome as are brunches and massages. Although technically students and teachers are not supposed to be bed partners, I can even stretch the legal loophole far enough in the interests of lifelong love. However, there are two unanswered questions.
What about the wives and the girlfriends?
And most importantly, what about the English test?