Your Darija teacher writes back in your language.

I have taught Arabic in Fès for twenty years, and Darija for the last eight. Slow and steady is a method, not an apology.

I like structure: a plan for the month, a plan for the hour, and room to go off it when something interesting comes up.

Linguistics degree, endless curiosity about how Darija actually works. I will explain the why behind the how whenever you want it — and skip it whenever you don't.

Twenty-five years of teaching adults in Casablanca. I am direct, I correct a lot, and my students tell me it is why they got fluent.

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.

Rabat, software by day, Darija by evening. I explain patterns the way I would explain code: one rule, one example, one exercise.

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.

Casablanca. I like the hard parts — the sounds that do not exist in your language, the words that refuse to translate. We work on them early.

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

Rabat. Thirty years of teaching adults, and I still prepare for every lesson. Expect structure, correction and dry jokes.

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

Tangier. I like precise questions and precise answers. If a rule has an exception, I will tell you about the exception.

Agadir. Amazigh and Darija both from childhood, and a long habit of explaining one through the other.