Your Darija teacher writes back in your language.

I teach the Darija you hear in the street, not the one in textbooks. We start speaking in the first ten minutes and build from there — your mistakes are the lesson plan.

Fifteen years in a Rabat classroom taught me that a good question beats a good explanation. I ask a lot of them.

Tangier means three languages before breakfast, so switching is second nature to me. I will meet you in whichever one you have and walk you over to Darija.

Marrakech, and I am convinced that laughing is a study technique. We use songs, memes and a lot of repetition.

Fès, and I love the old city as a classroom. Half my lessons end up being about a street name.

Essaouira, wind, and a slow way of speaking that beginners tell me is easy to follow. We take our time.

Agadir, Amazigh household, and a teaching diploma that taught me to plan. My lessons have a shape, and you always leave with something written down.

Casablanca. I teach conversation first and worry about the spelling later — Darija lives in the mouth, not on the page.

Casablanca. Former tour guide, so I know exactly which twenty phrases you will need on day one. We get you those first, then go deeper.

Fès. I teach the Darija of the old city and the one people actually text each other — they are not the same, and you will want both.

Meknès. I taught in a lycée for twenty years and never lost the habit of a proper lesson plan. You will always know why we are doing something.

Salé. Calm, methodical, and fond of a good drill. Ten minutes of repetition beats an hour of theory.

Fès. I have been teaching longer than some of my students have been alive, and I have never met one who could not learn.

El Jadida. Straight to speaking, every lesson. You will hear yourself improve before you can explain why.

Essaouira. I teach with music — Gnawa first, then whatever you like. It fixes rhythm and pronunciation faster than drills.

Marrakech born, and I still think the best way into Darija is the market on a Saturday morning. We rehearse it until it feels easy.

Agadir, sea air, and a lot of patience. I teach the phrases you will actually use this week and let the rest wait.

Fresh out of university in Oujda and full of energy. I keep the pace gentle and the encouragement loud.

I teach the Darija of the kitchen, the phone call and the neighbour — the language that fills an ordinary day in Salé.

Careful, organised, and a little bit strict about homework — in the friendliest possible way. You will always know what comes next.