The fall semester just started this past week. I cleared off my desk, recycled all materials I didn't need, dusted and stacked the books I would be using for the "new semester". Every semester it is the same. It's a right of passage for us as teachers. We are starting all over again, with all new students. Everything in the past IS the past, it's gone, forgotten, banished to the garbage bin. We have clean, new notepads, updated versions of our classroom text that has that new book smell to them. We have new rules by administration, some of us get new office space. Most of us will buy a new outfit or two, and spruce it up with a new scarf, or a new pair of shoes. New means something to us, it is a chance to be the shining beacon of hope you once considered yourself to be, that teacher who would stay for hours after class explaining a concept until the student understood. We view ourselves as new, ready to be that new person in this young persons life who has something to impart to them. God, what a great word.
In short, it's a honeymoon. We love it, we bask in it, we revel in it and we hope that the honeymoon will last at least for a few weeks, till some sort of reality starts to creep into the classroom.
Until then, I'm in love and I'm on a honeymoon.....
Happy Fall everyone!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Everyone Gets an A in China!
It is the end of the semester and as usual, I am trying to avoid having conversations with people who do not understand our grading system. It is almost impossible to try and explain to someone that in America you actually have to do several things to get a good grade: showing up for class is one, actually doing the required work is another. Contributing to class in a meaningful way and talking to the professor are huge as well. Perhaps even writing down an occasional note in your notebook, instead of taking pictures with your Iphone of the board (sigh).
The last day of class, I got locked into a conversation with a student. He was trying to tell me that he really deserved to pass this class with an A. I told him A's are really not given out, they are earned, to which he promply replied "We all get A's in China-to which I promptly replied "An A actually means something in America. It means you are exceptional, you did the work in a manner that was superior to others. He just stood there, with this ridiculous look on his face. "I'm exceptional" he said. I almost laughed in his face. I proceeded " If "exceptional" means late homework, falling asleep in class, late projects and not one page of notes taken in nine weeks, why then, yes, you are exceptional." I smiled, picked up my bad and left. The nerve.
The semester has ended. There were no A's, no surprises there. Everyone gets A's in China, or so I'm told. Funny, all those A students are merely C- students here, I wonder what an A in China REALLY means!
I'm off for the rest of summer, I will return on Sept 5th.
The last day of class, I got locked into a conversation with a student. He was trying to tell me that he really deserved to pass this class with an A. I told him A's are really not given out, they are earned, to which he promply replied "We all get A's in China-to which I promptly replied "An A actually means something in America. It means you are exceptional, you did the work in a manner that was superior to others. He just stood there, with this ridiculous look on his face. "I'm exceptional" he said. I almost laughed in his face. I proceeded " If "exceptional" means late homework, falling asleep in class, late projects and not one page of notes taken in nine weeks, why then, yes, you are exceptional." I smiled, picked up my bad and left. The nerve.
The semester has ended. There were no A's, no surprises there. Everyone gets A's in China, or so I'm told. Funny, all those A students are merely C- students here, I wonder what an A in China REALLY means!
I'm off for the rest of summer, I will return on Sept 5th.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Culture and Laughter...Um, that is so not funny
It happens with every new class. You have to explain all of the cultural things that you do, so they'll understand what the hell is going on. Like today, my student sneezed. I quickly said , bless you. The entire class laughs. I stop. Ok, why are you laughing? Silence. The Chinese love to laugh, they laugh at everything. They laugh at bad news, a horror story, hell, I'm convinced these people laugh at funerals. They laugh when you are telling a gut wrenching story, they laugh when you say something they don't like, basically, the default mode of these students is laughter. When in doubt of your own emotional welfare: laugh!
A westerner would get annoyed quickly. In fact, THIS westerner spent years adjusting to it and I'm not sure I'm entirely all there yet. I still cringe when I show a documentary on the Sudan and the horrors of that conflict and I hear laughter in my classroom. What is going on in their minds, I think to myself?
I have surmised that it must be an emotional reaction. Albeit, not the correct one, but it is a reaction.
I try to address this as gently as possible. Let's face it, in this culture, there are times you laugh till you pee yourself and times that you wouldn't dare let out a peep. I'm a bridge to what they will experience here and they need to know that laughing is a very specific reaction to very specific things.
I am currently working on this. They simply can't gauge any of these cultural waters. I have three weeks left. I'm getting tired of saying Um. that is so not funny, can you all please stop laughing.
Here's the kicker, when I want them to laugh, I crack a joke...............silence......crickets. (Sigh) my left arm for an audience.
A westerner would get annoyed quickly. In fact, THIS westerner spent years adjusting to it and I'm not sure I'm entirely all there yet. I still cringe when I show a documentary on the Sudan and the horrors of that conflict and I hear laughter in my classroom. What is going on in their minds, I think to myself?
I have surmised that it must be an emotional reaction. Albeit, not the correct one, but it is a reaction.
I try to address this as gently as possible. Let's face it, in this culture, there are times you laugh till you pee yourself and times that you wouldn't dare let out a peep. I'm a bridge to what they will experience here and they need to know that laughing is a very specific reaction to very specific things.
I am currently working on this. They simply can't gauge any of these cultural waters. I have three weeks left. I'm getting tired of saying Um. that is so not funny, can you all please stop laughing.
Here's the kicker, when I want them to laugh, I crack a joke...............silence......crickets. (Sigh) my left arm for an audience.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
schooling under the warm sun
Education does not only take place in the classroom. I tell myself this all the time, as I venture out the door to go sit in my garden and do my correcting. I sit under the gracious afternoon sun and walk through my papers. We are in our third week of school and my students are all very challenged, some are good, most are not. I wince at some of the sentences, I think, what am I doing with this class?
The birds sing their songs of wooing, I watch as the cat from next door tries to bag one of these prolific singers for lunch. The cat is too slow, and our singer flees to the top of the trees. He sits and continues to proclaim his love for his ladybird at the top of his lungs. Ah, summer in the garden.
I always think about taking my students to the garden. It would be wonderful, I think. We could draw and label the plants in English. We could talk about the seasons, growing food, soil, worms, birds, plants, rocks, fences, roses, chicken poop, spades, sweet peas, tomatoes, god, it's endless! Then I think to myself, no, my students are too young to appreciate what I see here.....why it is important. They would just turn on their phones, peer into them like zombies and tune out....
I dismiss the idea and go back to my homework. Yet, part of my mind drifts back to the what if, what if they really did like the garden, what if they really learned something.? This is the curse of a teacher. Always wondering, always thinking about what you could do to get your student interested in the world around them. Forget writing, structure, nouns, peer editing....forget all that.....the world needs to be engaged. There is so much out there....I dig my heels into the cool grass below the bench. I breathe deeply....it's time to get my correcting done.
The birds sing their songs of wooing, I watch as the cat from next door tries to bag one of these prolific singers for lunch. The cat is too slow, and our singer flees to the top of the trees. He sits and continues to proclaim his love for his ladybird at the top of his lungs. Ah, summer in the garden.
I always think about taking my students to the garden. It would be wonderful, I think. We could draw and label the plants in English. We could talk about the seasons, growing food, soil, worms, birds, plants, rocks, fences, roses, chicken poop, spades, sweet peas, tomatoes, god, it's endless! Then I think to myself, no, my students are too young to appreciate what I see here.....why it is important. They would just turn on their phones, peer into them like zombies and tune out....
I dismiss the idea and go back to my homework. Yet, part of my mind drifts back to the what if, what if they really did like the garden, what if they really learned something.? This is the curse of a teacher. Always wondering, always thinking about what you could do to get your student interested in the world around them. Forget writing, structure, nouns, peer editing....forget all that.....the world needs to be engaged. There is so much out there....I dig my heels into the cool grass below the bench. I breathe deeply....it's time to get my correcting done.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
They really do listen......
My spring semester has just ended, and just in time. My energy is gone, it's completely depleted.
I look forward to a very long May, I am going to attempt to fulfill my dream of going to Monticello, VA, then going for a wine tour. I will garden and write, I will try and regain my energy for my classes starting in early June. I will pack and get the house in order and go off for a few weeks to rest. However, before I leave, as I am organizing my office and putting all of my books in order, I sat down to read the reflections that my students wrote. Most students wrote about their challenges, what they learned, how much they worked, ordinary stuff. Except for this one student. She wrote " The most helpful thing is one sentence from my professor Diana, she said the most powerful weapon is the pen in your hand. I'm really impressed by this strong sentence and remember this in my heart."
We all hope that one student will remember just one thing, just one idea that we tried to plant in their young minds. As I write this, I realized that I have reached my goal of planting that one seed. Many of my students will go back to China, they will forget all of the summaries, all of the outlines and the vocabulary that we worked on. They eventually will fade from my memory, their names, their faces, their smiles, gone. The one thing I hope survives is the ability for them to recognize when they need to use that pen, when they have to find the strength in them to move themselves forward and use their intellect. In the end, it is the only thing that will collectively move us all forward. Viva education!
Rest well, all! I'll return this summer
I look forward to a very long May, I am going to attempt to fulfill my dream of going to Monticello, VA, then going for a wine tour. I will garden and write, I will try and regain my energy for my classes starting in early June. I will pack and get the house in order and go off for a few weeks to rest. However, before I leave, as I am organizing my office and putting all of my books in order, I sat down to read the reflections that my students wrote. Most students wrote about their challenges, what they learned, how much they worked, ordinary stuff. Except for this one student. She wrote " The most helpful thing is one sentence from my professor Diana, she said the most powerful weapon is the pen in your hand. I'm really impressed by this strong sentence and remember this in my heart."
We all hope that one student will remember just one thing, just one idea that we tried to plant in their young minds. As I write this, I realized that I have reached my goal of planting that one seed. Many of my students will go back to China, they will forget all of the summaries, all of the outlines and the vocabulary that we worked on. They eventually will fade from my memory, their names, their faces, their smiles, gone. The one thing I hope survives is the ability for them to recognize when they need to use that pen, when they have to find the strength in them to move themselves forward and use their intellect. In the end, it is the only thing that will collectively move us all forward. Viva education!
Rest well, all! I'll return this summer
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A New Year, a new semester....same ol' issues
Happy New Year! 2012! We're off to a great start this semester. I have two classes full of eager, rested students ready to work! I am organized, fueled and ready to go. The first few days are full of anticipation, both for my students and for myself. As the week went by, I realized that this may be a new year, but there are some things that will NEVER change...allow me to explain.
Day four of our first week, I start in on my in-class essay work. I have a great exercise where I give my students a postcard, pair them up, and ask them to talk about it, take notes and brainstorm about the senses it evokes, or words that come to them. We are working on a descriptive essay and my students seem sharp and interested even before we start. I start giving out the postcards, one is of Picasso's lover, one is a scene in Vienna, Austria, another is a scene in Santorini, Greece. Picturesque, beautiful landscapes, with brilliant blue skies, architecture that is thousands of years old. I am floating around the classroom, handing out my joy, in the form of a postcard. My traveling life is in this pile of postcards and I'm delighted to share it with my students.
I give two males students the postcard of the Sistina Chapel, The Creation of Adam. That's when it started. Immediately, they started laughing, I ignored them. I walked back to my computer and explained further what to do with the newly passed out postcard. They kept laughing, I continued to ignore them. Finally, I slowly start to realize that these two "boys" are in fact boys and that they may be laughing at Michaelangelo's depiction of the human body. This swiftly enters my brain, and I solidly reject it. Surely, this is a group of graduate students, this is art. How can think it's silly?
After I realized that they weren't going to stop anytime soon, I had to get up and go back and have a talk with my two hysterical males. I quietly asked why they were laughing so uncontrollably. That's when one of my students said, "These are homosexy mens". I remain calm and ask them do you realize what you are looking at? They both shake their heads, no. I quietly tell them this is the cornerstone of High Renaissance Art. I ask them do they know what that means. They say no. I tell them to stop laughing and just do the assignment.
I go back to my desk and sigh a very long sigh......grown men looking at a drawing of a naked man and laughing hysterically, unable to stop........I shift my weight and look up at the ceiling and think, holy hairdos, I am teaching a bunch of eight year olds.
Day four of our first week, I start in on my in-class essay work. I have a great exercise where I give my students a postcard, pair them up, and ask them to talk about it, take notes and brainstorm about the senses it evokes, or words that come to them. We are working on a descriptive essay and my students seem sharp and interested even before we start. I start giving out the postcards, one is of Picasso's lover, one is a scene in Vienna, Austria, another is a scene in Santorini, Greece. Picturesque, beautiful landscapes, with brilliant blue skies, architecture that is thousands of years old. I am floating around the classroom, handing out my joy, in the form of a postcard. My traveling life is in this pile of postcards and I'm delighted to share it with my students.
I give two males students the postcard of the Sistina Chapel, The Creation of Adam. That's when it started. Immediately, they started laughing, I ignored them. I walked back to my computer and explained further what to do with the newly passed out postcard. They kept laughing, I continued to ignore them. Finally, I slowly start to realize that these two "boys" are in fact boys and that they may be laughing at Michaelangelo's depiction of the human body. This swiftly enters my brain, and I solidly reject it. Surely, this is a group of graduate students, this is art. How can think it's silly?
After I realized that they weren't going to stop anytime soon, I had to get up and go back and have a talk with my two hysterical males. I quietly asked why they were laughing so uncontrollably. That's when one of my students said, "These are homosexy mens". I remain calm and ask them do you realize what you are looking at? They both shake their heads, no. I quietly tell them this is the cornerstone of High Renaissance Art. I ask them do they know what that means. They say no. I tell them to stop laughing and just do the assignment.
I go back to my desk and sigh a very long sigh......grown men looking at a drawing of a naked man and laughing hysterically, unable to stop........I shift my weight and look up at the ceiling and think, holy hairdos, I am teaching a bunch of eight year olds.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Culture.....oh yeah, that!
I am on break and since being on break, I have taken to reading my many books that my friends and loved ones recommend to me. I have procured a new cookbook written by Julia Child's collaborator and bosom buddy, Simca. Since I love reading about food and the various adventures Simca had, I was thrilled to start reading about her life, her stories and how food has played a major part in all of it.
For those who do not know the background, Simca had a marvelous idea. She thought to compose a book of French recipes for the Americans who wanted to learn how to cook French. This is where her trouble began. Much like many of my students, Simca labored under the illusion that what is good for one, must be good for the other. The Americans are just like the French, we eat, they eat. The ingredients are the same, the attitude toward food is the same. She tried to get her first cookbook published by an American publishing house and received a flat refusal. Why? Too detailed, too complicated and not enough knowledge of how Americans REALLY cook. She was stumped, what could possibly be so different in America?
Enter Julia Child. Simca met Julia through a fellow friend and it was through Julia that she realized what many of my students do not. Culture is omni-present, it is in everything we think, do and act out. It is in our food, how we prepare our food, how we think about food and why we think in that particular manner. Julia helped Simca to realize that Americans do not approach food as the French do. The ingredients are different, they eat at different times, they would never even know were to purchase creme fraiche, let alone learn how to pronounce it. Simca was amazed and realized that she had been foolish. Culture matters, even in the kitchen, with such a simple act as making a cookie or home roasting coffee, culture seeps into every aspect of the actions and the outcomes.
Reading Simca's account made me think about how bamboozled we are when faced with the actuality that other people in other countries simply do not do what we do. We travel to other countries and insist on carrying on in our own little cultural pods of behavior and thought, not realizing we are pissing everyone else around us off.
In conclusion, as we move through 2012 and continue to travel, write, compose, create, and in general move about with our fabulous lives, it is always important to think about our cultural expectations and just how odd they may seem to others! Happy New Year to all! May your new year be filled with cultural adventures, good food, great conversations, and fabulous books!
For those who do not know the background, Simca had a marvelous idea. She thought to compose a book of French recipes for the Americans who wanted to learn how to cook French. This is where her trouble began. Much like many of my students, Simca labored under the illusion that what is good for one, must be good for the other. The Americans are just like the French, we eat, they eat. The ingredients are the same, the attitude toward food is the same. She tried to get her first cookbook published by an American publishing house and received a flat refusal. Why? Too detailed, too complicated and not enough knowledge of how Americans REALLY cook. She was stumped, what could possibly be so different in America?
Enter Julia Child. Simca met Julia through a fellow friend and it was through Julia that she realized what many of my students do not. Culture is omni-present, it is in everything we think, do and act out. It is in our food, how we prepare our food, how we think about food and why we think in that particular manner. Julia helped Simca to realize that Americans do not approach food as the French do. The ingredients are different, they eat at different times, they would never even know were to purchase creme fraiche, let alone learn how to pronounce it. Simca was amazed and realized that she had been foolish. Culture matters, even in the kitchen, with such a simple act as making a cookie or home roasting coffee, culture seeps into every aspect of the actions and the outcomes.
Reading Simca's account made me think about how bamboozled we are when faced with the actuality that other people in other countries simply do not do what we do. We travel to other countries and insist on carrying on in our own little cultural pods of behavior and thought, not realizing we are pissing everyone else around us off.
In conclusion, as we move through 2012 and continue to travel, write, compose, create, and in general move about with our fabulous lives, it is always important to think about our cultural expectations and just how odd they may seem to others! Happy New Year to all! May your new year be filled with cultural adventures, good food, great conversations, and fabulous books!
Thursday, December 8, 2011
End of the Semester......Do I have to keep coming to class?
There are forty five students right now who are writing a paper about a novel they read and don't understand. Novels are cultural....everything about a novel reaks how a group of people behavior and how other's perceive that behavior. My students don't understand a lot of what they read, due to the fact that they are too busy speaking their mother tongue to actually try and deal with the complexity that is reading in another language. Granted, I know how they feel. I tried to read a fourth grade children's book in a bookstore in Naples, I struggled, but after forty five minutes, and with the help of all those gloriously glossy picture, I got the idea. Success! I wasn't going to give up. The clerk at the bookstore was looking at me, nervously the whole time, trying to figure out what a grown woman was doing in the child's book section.
I do everything within my power to make this an easy process, I scaffold (build the steps to help my student understand the material better) I give them outlines they need to fill in with main and minor ideas, I provide group discussion questions, I give them notes. Still, they read, they gloss over in class, they clam up. I groan.....nothing I do can get them to read.
A student sent me an email at 11:59 p.m. Professor, I am lost. I don't know what to write. This is NOT exactly encouraging people, her paper is due in two days. What can I possibly tell this student? Why don't they ask me questions in class? Why aren't they willing to learn from their curiousity? It all boils down to culture and what they expect from a teacher. Groan...sigh.....what to do?
I do everything within my power to make this an easy process, I scaffold (build the steps to help my student understand the material better) I give them outlines they need to fill in with main and minor ideas, I provide group discussion questions, I give them notes. Still, they read, they gloss over in class, they clam up. I groan.....nothing I do can get them to read.
A student sent me an email at 11:59 p.m. Professor, I am lost. I don't know what to write. This is NOT exactly encouraging people, her paper is due in two days. What can I possibly tell this student? Why don't they ask me questions in class? Why aren't they willing to learn from their curiousity? It all boils down to culture and what they expect from a teacher. Groan...sigh.....what to do?
Monday, November 21, 2011
Professor, I like you. Actually, I love you!
As usual this semester, I am encouraging my students to email me if they have questions or would like to stop by for my office hour. Many take my advice, others I don't hear from at all, except toward the end of the semester, when they show up in my office, looking like they just saw a ghost. One such student is "Gary". Gary has been in contact with me at least once a week. He is a good student, he's gregarious and really likes to chat after class. He likes to email me about questions concerning the readings, cultural misunderstandings he goes through, writing issues, the list really is endless. He's a communicator. I like that.
He emailed me last week to let me know that he let me down and that he felt terrible about it when he couldn't answer a question concerning analytical ideas in class. That's when he dropped this interesting phrase. "Professor, I don't want to let you down, I like you. Actually, I love you. I love you a lot. I want you to know". Hmmmm....now a phrase like that would get most people thinking what is going on here?
Not me, this is normal language stuff. Happens to me all the time. When people are learning a language and have not acquired it, they tend to write things that would normally raise eyebrows. The problem is, my eyebrows cannot be raised anymore, I've heard it all.
I emailed him back "Hi Gary, thanks for the email. I appreciate that you feel that you did not perform to the best of your ability yesterday in class. Remember, we are learning and this is part of the learning process.
Thank you for your vote of confidence in my ability to teach the material well.
I hit send and sit back and think of all the dumb and slightly psychotic sentences I have stitched together and let them sail out of my big mouth. I laugh to myself and think, hey, this is language!
He emailed me last week to let me know that he let me down and that he felt terrible about it when he couldn't answer a question concerning analytical ideas in class. That's when he dropped this interesting phrase. "Professor, I don't want to let you down, I like you. Actually, I love you. I love you a lot. I want you to know". Hmmmm....now a phrase like that would get most people thinking what is going on here?
Not me, this is normal language stuff. Happens to me all the time. When people are learning a language and have not acquired it, they tend to write things that would normally raise eyebrows. The problem is, my eyebrows cannot be raised anymore, I've heard it all.
I emailed him back "Hi Gary, thanks for the email. I appreciate that you feel that you did not perform to the best of your ability yesterday in class. Remember, we are learning and this is part of the learning process.
Thank you for your vote of confidence in my ability to teach the material well.
I hit send and sit back and think of all the dumb and slightly psychotic sentences I have stitched together and let them sail out of my big mouth. I laugh to myself and think, hey, this is language!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
This girl can't be a professor, or can she?
I am very fortunate this semester to have class near a coffee shop. I have the luxury of pulling up and jumping off my scooter just a few minutes before class, grabbing a cup of coffee and feeling pretty good about myself. As luck would have it, I was pulling up one morning this past week to an empty meter that had my name all over it. I jumped off my bike and noticed a BU police officer on the other side of the road. I chose to ignore the fact that the said police officer was now on his way over, across the street, looking very purposeful, heading in my direction.
As I was wrapping my chain around the meter, he pulled up along side of me and said, "Excuse me miss, do you have a sticker on the scooter?". "Yes, every two years I have to renew it". He looked grumpy, his face was covered with a thick moustache and great gray eyes that didn't have a spec of kindness to them. I continued on locking up my bike. "You know, you can't park that scooter in the street," he added with a stern bark. "Yes, I know, that's why I park it on the sidewalk". "Scooters are very dangerous, in fact, most kids who drive them really don't know what they are doing," he chimed. He continued to go on and on about how dangerous they were, how many "kids" have no idea how to drive them. Then, he asked if I had a license. I looked at him with a confused knitted brow "Yes, I have a license! I have had one since I've been sixteen". "Well, he said, its only been a few years and you had better beware on that thing."
A few years? Was this guy nuts? As if the fates got tired of watching this guy yank my chain, two of my students rounded the corner. "Oh good morning professor!" "Good morning guys," I said right back. It was just then I noticed the cops face. His face had this shocked look of unbelief and of something else I wasn't able to assess at that moment. He sheepishly looked down and asked quietly, "are you a professor?" Yes, I said, have been for five years". "What is it you teach". "I teach writing, I specialized in academic writing. I could hear him cringing. "My name is Pat, Pat Nunnati, and what is your name, young lady?" My name is Diana, I stated. "You know, I love to write, I'm not so good at it, but I do love it". "That's great" I said. "Listen, I'm sorry about the scooter thing, I thought you were a kid." "Oh, I'm no kid" I said with a forgiving smile on my face. I shook his hand to let him know that there was no hard feelings. As I was walking away from him, he shouted out "you know, if you'd like to get together later for a coffee, I'd really enjoy that".
I waved as I disappeared into the building. As I climbed the stairs I thought to myself, a kid, yeah, right!
As I was wrapping my chain around the meter, he pulled up along side of me and said, "Excuse me miss, do you have a sticker on the scooter?". "Yes, every two years I have to renew it". He looked grumpy, his face was covered with a thick moustache and great gray eyes that didn't have a spec of kindness to them. I continued on locking up my bike. "You know, you can't park that scooter in the street," he added with a stern bark. "Yes, I know, that's why I park it on the sidewalk". "Scooters are very dangerous, in fact, most kids who drive them really don't know what they are doing," he chimed. He continued to go on and on about how dangerous they were, how many "kids" have no idea how to drive them. Then, he asked if I had a license. I looked at him with a confused knitted brow "Yes, I have a license! I have had one since I've been sixteen". "Well, he said, its only been a few years and you had better beware on that thing."
A few years? Was this guy nuts? As if the fates got tired of watching this guy yank my chain, two of my students rounded the corner. "Oh good morning professor!" "Good morning guys," I said right back. It was just then I noticed the cops face. His face had this shocked look of unbelief and of something else I wasn't able to assess at that moment. He sheepishly looked down and asked quietly, "are you a professor?" Yes, I said, have been for five years". "What is it you teach". "I teach writing, I specialized in academic writing. I could hear him cringing. "My name is Pat, Pat Nunnati, and what is your name, young lady?" My name is Diana, I stated. "You know, I love to write, I'm not so good at it, but I do love it". "That's great" I said. "Listen, I'm sorry about the scooter thing, I thought you were a kid." "Oh, I'm no kid" I said with a forgiving smile on my face. I shook his hand to let him know that there was no hard feelings. As I was walking away from him, he shouted out "you know, if you'd like to get together later for a coffee, I'd really enjoy that".
I waved as I disappeared into the building. As I climbed the stairs I thought to myself, a kid, yeah, right!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Are you sure you don't want to change your name?
Of course, most mainland Chinese students who come to the American classroom, take an English name.
Unfortunately, they don't really understand that some of these names should not be attahced to an actual human. As stated in my previous posts, I have had some interesting names. Here are some of the perenially favorites:
Robin Hood
Magic
Banana
Wall
Caesar Salad
Cheese
Peter Pan
Lemon
Picture youself in my shoes:
It's a late afternoon, you turn to call on a student who just raised his hand. "Lemon, what do you think about that?" "Cheese, can you collect the papers please?"
Unfortunately, they don't really understand that some of these names should not be attahced to an actual human. As stated in my previous posts, I have had some interesting names. Here are some of the perenially favorites:
Robin Hood
Magic
Banana
Wall
Caesar Salad
Cheese
Peter Pan
Lemon
Picture youself in my shoes:
It's a late afternoon, you turn to call on a student who just raised his hand. "Lemon, what do you think about that?" "Cheese, can you collect the papers please?"
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Fall 2011-What happened to the time?
Greetings fellow teachers, cultural mavens and others who just like to read for a laugh!
I've been away from my blog for a whole year, not because I wanted to, mind you. I just became overcome with teaching, moving around to various different campuses, and of course, correcting. It just got to much! However, I am back, recovered from my weariness. I am ready to get back on the blogging horse.
I do have stories, but instead of picking up where I left off, I figured it would be better to forge ahead with the stories, the students, the mishaps, and the general mayhem that is my average day in the classroom. Forward march!
Let's start with this past summer, shall we? This summer, I had an exceptional group of students, but not in the way you normally think of when one says "exceptional". This group was hell bent on doing as close to little as possible. They were a group of pre grads, hoping to land in grad school with miminal effort. I was not about to oblige them.
Enter "Ralph" (name change here, just in case) Ralph knew the rules. I had laid them down. No phones on the desks during class time. I did not want to see, hear or sense a phone while I was busy conducting class.
He knew this, but for some reason, could not control his obsession with the chirping device. As I was giving my mini - lecture, I raised my eyes to find Ralph hiding the device underneath the desk, tapping away like a crazed child with a toy gun. I waited for him to put it down, instead, he just kept going.
I silently walked over and gently asked him to put the phone down, pick up his bag and leave the class. He was stunned. His production and his listening skills were soarly lacking, therefore, I had to repeat myself again. Still stunned, he produced a bizarre, half baked grin on his face and proceeded to just sit at his desk.
Calmly, I asked him to step outside. This is when it got interesting.
Once safely out in the hallway, I asked him why he was using a phone in my class. He stammered, he started sweating, he shifted his weight from one side to the other, he looked down, then he burst out laughing! Laughing, like a hyena, with big belly laughs, as if I was up on stage at the Comedy Shack delivering one liners! And he kept laughing. I tried to talk to him about the laughing, it just kept coming. That's when I snapped. I screamed at the top of my lungs, STOP IT RIGHT NOW! He did. He just went silent, the stupid grin dripped down his face into his shoes. I explained that he needs to adhere to the rules bla bla bla.....the conversation ended. I told him to leave and come back tomorrow when he was ready to be an adult again. I thought that was the end of it all.
Unfortunately, unknown to me, the staff downstairs heard it all, as it echoed around the building. I had to to downstairs and apologize to everyone who heard me screaming like a nutcake. They understood, they know the frustration. My director pulled me aside and asked for the story. I told him, he sympathized, but asked that I try and handle it another way. I looked at him and said "Exactly what would you do with a student laughing in your face?" He looked down at the carpet, "I know, it's tough".
The next day, my student came in to speak to me about his cell phone episode. I told him laughing in someones face in America will either get you punched out or thrown out of the room. He told me that laughing for him was like crying and that "it's just what we Chinese do".
In conclusion, the next time you see a bunch of Chinese students laughing, stop and think what that really might mean.
I've been away from my blog for a whole year, not because I wanted to, mind you. I just became overcome with teaching, moving around to various different campuses, and of course, correcting. It just got to much! However, I am back, recovered from my weariness. I am ready to get back on the blogging horse.
I do have stories, but instead of picking up where I left off, I figured it would be better to forge ahead with the stories, the students, the mishaps, and the general mayhem that is my average day in the classroom. Forward march!
Let's start with this past summer, shall we? This summer, I had an exceptional group of students, but not in the way you normally think of when one says "exceptional". This group was hell bent on doing as close to little as possible. They were a group of pre grads, hoping to land in grad school with miminal effort. I was not about to oblige them.
Enter "Ralph" (name change here, just in case) Ralph knew the rules. I had laid them down. No phones on the desks during class time. I did not want to see, hear or sense a phone while I was busy conducting class.
He knew this, but for some reason, could not control his obsession with the chirping device. As I was giving my mini - lecture, I raised my eyes to find Ralph hiding the device underneath the desk, tapping away like a crazed child with a toy gun. I waited for him to put it down, instead, he just kept going.
I silently walked over and gently asked him to put the phone down, pick up his bag and leave the class. He was stunned. His production and his listening skills were soarly lacking, therefore, I had to repeat myself again. Still stunned, he produced a bizarre, half baked grin on his face and proceeded to just sit at his desk.
Calmly, I asked him to step outside. This is when it got interesting.
Once safely out in the hallway, I asked him why he was using a phone in my class. He stammered, he started sweating, he shifted his weight from one side to the other, he looked down, then he burst out laughing! Laughing, like a hyena, with big belly laughs, as if I was up on stage at the Comedy Shack delivering one liners! And he kept laughing. I tried to talk to him about the laughing, it just kept coming. That's when I snapped. I screamed at the top of my lungs, STOP IT RIGHT NOW! He did. He just went silent, the stupid grin dripped down his face into his shoes. I explained that he needs to adhere to the rules bla bla bla.....the conversation ended. I told him to leave and come back tomorrow when he was ready to be an adult again. I thought that was the end of it all.
Unfortunately, unknown to me, the staff downstairs heard it all, as it echoed around the building. I had to to downstairs and apologize to everyone who heard me screaming like a nutcake. They understood, they know the frustration. My director pulled me aside and asked for the story. I told him, he sympathized, but asked that I try and handle it another way. I looked at him and said "Exactly what would you do with a student laughing in your face?" He looked down at the carpet, "I know, it's tough".
The next day, my student came in to speak to me about his cell phone episode. I told him laughing in someones face in America will either get you punched out or thrown out of the room. He told me that laughing for him was like crying and that "it's just what we Chinese do".
In conclusion, the next time you see a bunch of Chinese students laughing, stop and think what that really might mean.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Summer Finale and Final thoughts
The summer progressed and much to my surprise, so did my fatigue.
I had not realized that teaching was so draining. I had always approached it with such a happy, carefree feeling, it didn't occur to me that it could beat me down. The final days of the semester were upon us. The students were exhausted and had checked out, so had I.
The last class came and my assigned presentations were due to begin. These are tense times for students, many coming from backgrounds that never allow students to ask questions in class, let alone present material, as if they knew what they were talking about! I had several students get up and talk about the same cultural icons of Chinese culture; tea, the knots, more tea, silk, still more tea, and various cheap goods the Chinese have gotten really good at producing en masse.
One student, in particular, surprised us all, by presenting an aria from an Chinese opera. He opened his mouth and the interesting sounds that came out, I must admit, I have never heard before. He was a tremendous singer, with depth and passion coming from his toes! The students clapped along and knew his song well. After his performance, he bowed and received an amazing round of applause. His smiles were bright and crisp, as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. As they filed out the door, and said their goodbyes, I knew I would never see these students again, for they tend to melt into the larger mass of students that is the university body.
I had learned something from this group of students. Many wait their whole lives for a chance to shine and I must be the one to give it to them. I can bring them out of their shell, give them a voice, give them the notion that they matter. Culturally, this is not acceptable where they come from, but it is crucial that they learn this here in America. And I'm just the American to give them their big chance!
Next up, vacation and Fall semester 2008, here we come!
I had not realized that teaching was so draining. I had always approached it with such a happy, carefree feeling, it didn't occur to me that it could beat me down. The final days of the semester were upon us. The students were exhausted and had checked out, so had I.
The last class came and my assigned presentations were due to begin. These are tense times for students, many coming from backgrounds that never allow students to ask questions in class, let alone present material, as if they knew what they were talking about! I had several students get up and talk about the same cultural icons of Chinese culture; tea, the knots, more tea, silk, still more tea, and various cheap goods the Chinese have gotten really good at producing en masse.
One student, in particular, surprised us all, by presenting an aria from an Chinese opera. He opened his mouth and the interesting sounds that came out, I must admit, I have never heard before. He was a tremendous singer, with depth and passion coming from his toes! The students clapped along and knew his song well. After his performance, he bowed and received an amazing round of applause. His smiles were bright and crisp, as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. As they filed out the door, and said their goodbyes, I knew I would never see these students again, for they tend to melt into the larger mass of students that is the university body.
I had learned something from this group of students. Many wait their whole lives for a chance to shine and I must be the one to give it to them. I can bring them out of their shell, give them a voice, give them the notion that they matter. Culturally, this is not acceptable where they come from, but it is crucial that they learn this here in America. And I'm just the American to give them their big chance!
Next up, vacation and Fall semester 2008, here we come!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Miles Dyson and Tony
As my summer classes proceeded, Miles Dyson (who was formerly known as Valitudinarian, see former posting) continued to display his strange, aloof behavior. He arrived early, sat and stared straight ahead at the board each day. He was a very good student, just a very strange student. It didn't take long for another student to also pick up that Miles was pretty smart.
Tony (that was his English name) was a goof off. He came to class twice, then was absent for the next three weeks. When he was in class, he would make threatening gestures toward Miles.
When I say threatening gestures, I mean fashioning his hand like a gun, pointing it, and delivering a few bullets at Miles. This was unnerving. This went on for a week or two and then Tony disappeared again.
Test day came and low and behold, Tony showed up to class and sat next to Miles. Hmmm...I thought, that's weird! I gave out the exam and sat down. It was then I realized why these two were seated next to each other. Tony was cheating off Miles and Miles was letting him. I let the two of them go on and then I made my move. I moved quietly toward them, took both their exams and asked them to go outside of the classroom.
Red, shaking and clearly angry that they were caught, they moved quietly. I got outside and quietly asked, "What is going on here?" No explanation, just blank stares. Again, "what is going on, do you, Miles want to tell me what is going on here?" No, he said. Tony was shaking and red.
I looked at Tony and said " Why are you sitting next to Miles today?" "You never sit next to Miles, in fact, I've seen you make threats towards him in class." Silence!
I told the both of them they flunked this test. I then instructed Tony to go back to class.
I asked Miles again, "Did Tony ask you to cheat?" "No" Miles said.
I was astonished, I thought Miles would crack.
Back at the office, I spoke to my colleague about what happened in class. She was more in tune with Asian culture than I was and informed me that this was normal. "Huh," I said sheepishly.
Bullying is a big problem within this culture, one is the bully, the other is the victim. The victim stays quiet for fear of being found out. The bully continues to press and get his way. I busted up the arrangement. Great, I thought, poor Miles. If he shows up with a black eye to class tomorrow, I'll know what happened. I went home that night thinking this was going to end badly. Culturally, I could not let this stand, I had to teach them both that in America, we don't cheat, we don't lie (except if you happen to be a politician, banker, the Goldman Sachs CEO or a priest) and we are not operating under Chinese cultural expectations.
Much to my surprise, Tony did not return to school. Miles did not show up with a black eye.
In the end, Tony ended up flunking my class. Miles went on to school to study economics and I learned a big lesson. Be fearless! Engage the students regardless of the outcome.
Question is, can I remember this for the next time?
Tony (that was his English name) was a goof off. He came to class twice, then was absent for the next three weeks. When he was in class, he would make threatening gestures toward Miles.
When I say threatening gestures, I mean fashioning his hand like a gun, pointing it, and delivering a few bullets at Miles. This was unnerving. This went on for a week or two and then Tony disappeared again.
Test day came and low and behold, Tony showed up to class and sat next to Miles. Hmmm...I thought, that's weird! I gave out the exam and sat down. It was then I realized why these two were seated next to each other. Tony was cheating off Miles and Miles was letting him. I let the two of them go on and then I made my move. I moved quietly toward them, took both their exams and asked them to go outside of the classroom.
Red, shaking and clearly angry that they were caught, they moved quietly. I got outside and quietly asked, "What is going on here?" No explanation, just blank stares. Again, "what is going on, do you, Miles want to tell me what is going on here?" No, he said. Tony was shaking and red.
I looked at Tony and said " Why are you sitting next to Miles today?" "You never sit next to Miles, in fact, I've seen you make threats towards him in class." Silence!
I told the both of them they flunked this test. I then instructed Tony to go back to class.
I asked Miles again, "Did Tony ask you to cheat?" "No" Miles said.
I was astonished, I thought Miles would crack.
Back at the office, I spoke to my colleague about what happened in class. She was more in tune with Asian culture than I was and informed me that this was normal. "Huh," I said sheepishly.
Bullying is a big problem within this culture, one is the bully, the other is the victim. The victim stays quiet for fear of being found out. The bully continues to press and get his way. I busted up the arrangement. Great, I thought, poor Miles. If he shows up with a black eye to class tomorrow, I'll know what happened. I went home that night thinking this was going to end badly. Culturally, I could not let this stand, I had to teach them both that in America, we don't cheat, we don't lie (except if you happen to be a politician, banker, the Goldman Sachs CEO or a priest) and we are not operating under Chinese cultural expectations.
Much to my surprise, Tony did not return to school. Miles did not show up with a black eye.
In the end, Tony ended up flunking my class. Miles went on to school to study economics and I learned a big lesson. Be fearless! Engage the students regardless of the outcome.
Question is, can I remember this for the next time?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Yes, women are emotional and stupid!
One of my favorite things about teaching is discovering what various cultures think about gender. It is no surprise (and this may sound ethnocentric) that Americans are a bit more ahead
than the rest of the world when it comes to this particular subject. I think this because, by now, I've had way too many conversations where I end up exasperated and shocked.
Case in point, my summer session students had a chapter dealing with gender roles. I planned exercises to get them to share what they know about gender and we created discussion groups, creating questions and answers. What I wasn't prepared for was the blatant remarks made by, no, not the men, but the women! One young lady insisted, "Women are too weak, they cry all the time?" I said, "Really? You're a woman, do you cry all the time?" Oh no, not me, I mean women.
"Ok, I said, why do you think women are weak?" "Because that's true," she said. My students have issues defending their answers with meaningful analysis.
I proceed to spend some time trying to talk about stereotypes, how it is defined and present some stereotypes about both men and women. I state, "men are strong and don't cry" Yes, this is true, they all agree. No, I quip, this is a stereotype. "Women cry and are weak", oh yes, this is true. No, I say again, this is not true, this is a stereotype. "No, women are emotional and stupid", yells one young woman. Shocked, I remain standing, looking into the faces of these people.
It is at times like this when I realize that my mission isn't to try and convince them of something that they themselves have never thought of. My mission is to try and get them to think, period!
Yeah, good luck with that!
than the rest of the world when it comes to this particular subject. I think this because, by now, I've had way too many conversations where I end up exasperated and shocked.
Case in point, my summer session students had a chapter dealing with gender roles. I planned exercises to get them to share what they know about gender and we created discussion groups, creating questions and answers. What I wasn't prepared for was the blatant remarks made by, no, not the men, but the women! One young lady insisted, "Women are too weak, they cry all the time?" I said, "Really? You're a woman, do you cry all the time?" Oh no, not me, I mean women.
"Ok, I said, why do you think women are weak?" "Because that's true," she said. My students have issues defending their answers with meaningful analysis.
I proceed to spend some time trying to talk about stereotypes, how it is defined and present some stereotypes about both men and women. I state, "men are strong and don't cry" Yes, this is true, they all agree. No, I quip, this is a stereotype. "Women cry and are weak", oh yes, this is true. No, I say again, this is not true, this is a stereotype. "No, women are emotional and stupid", yells one young woman. Shocked, I remain standing, looking into the faces of these people.
It is at times like this when I realize that my mission isn't to try and convince them of something that they themselves have never thought of. My mission is to try and get them to think, period!
Yeah, good luck with that!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Boston has the sky
I would arrive to class on a beautiful summer's morning ready to go. I would hop off my scooter, tie it up, and race into the building.
On this particular morning I found Nathan in the middle of the grassy area outside of the buildling. He was staring into the abyss, with a smile on his face a mile wide. I naturally looked up to see what he was staring at, but there was nothing there. I decided to call out to him and ask him what he was doing.
"Look, he said, Boston has the sky". "Um.....yes, that's the sky", I said. He kept staring. I walked into the building thinking his statement was bizarre. Later, he came into class and started talking about blue the sky. He seemed particularly amazed as he continued to talk. It was then that he told me he came from Beijing, and he had never seen the color of the sky before. I laughed, but he didn't, he insisted the sky over Beijing was a sour red and gray color, like a veil of smoke and as a child and as a young adult, he never had seen such a color before. The crystal clear blue of the endless sky and Boston's clear heavens abounding gave him such delight.
Several mornings after our sky talk, I found Nathan again, outside staring into the abyss. I stopped to stare into it with him. It was then, that I realized my student had given me something I didn't know I was grateful for; an appreciation for activism and regulation. Then, as I walked to the door to disappear into my classroom, I whispered a small thank you to the people who came before me who thought it was important to install regulations and laws on industry. I will never forgot my sky loving student, he gave me an appreciation for something I see almost every single day.
On this particular morning I found Nathan in the middle of the grassy area outside of the buildling. He was staring into the abyss, with a smile on his face a mile wide. I naturally looked up to see what he was staring at, but there was nothing there. I decided to call out to him and ask him what he was doing.
"Look, he said, Boston has the sky". "Um.....yes, that's the sky", I said. He kept staring. I walked into the building thinking his statement was bizarre. Later, he came into class and started talking about blue the sky. He seemed particularly amazed as he continued to talk. It was then that he told me he came from Beijing, and he had never seen the color of the sky before. I laughed, but he didn't, he insisted the sky over Beijing was a sour red and gray color, like a veil of smoke and as a child and as a young adult, he never had seen such a color before. The crystal clear blue of the endless sky and Boston's clear heavens abounding gave him such delight.
Several mornings after our sky talk, I found Nathan again, outside staring into the abyss. I stopped to stare into it with him. It was then, that I realized my student had given me something I didn't know I was grateful for; an appreciation for activism and regulation. Then, as I walked to the door to disappear into my classroom, I whispered a small thank you to the people who came before me who thought it was important to install regulations and laws on industry. I will never forgot my sky loving student, he gave me an appreciation for something I see almost every single day.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Um, I don't think I get it?
In the land of ESL, you have to be prepared for anything. You especially have to be ready to recast speech, speech that is said by a student, but needs correcting because the idea isn't understood. I do this all the time. On this particular day, I thought it was more of the same...boy, was I wrong!
Two weeks into our second semester, a male student came up to me after class. He said "I want to buy girl." Oh, I said, you want to buy something for a girl, sure, what do you think would be nice to buy a girl? He scowled at me, "No, I want to buy girl." I nodded my head smiling, "Sure, you want to buy something for a girl, I understand." "No", he said sternly. " I want girl for sex."
"Where can I buy girl."
Now, it hadn't hit me that a young man would actually have the courage to come up to a female professor and actually ask her where he could "buy" girl. It also hadn't hit me that a student would feel so comfortable with me in class that he felt he could ask me such a question. After I realized what he just asked for, I could feel my face change. It started twisting and my eyebrows quickly had knit themselves together. I took on a different voice. "I am going to answer your question with two statments, " I said calmly "First, men do not buy women, it is against the law here, and if you try to "buy" a woman for sex, you will be arrested and sent home." I gasped for air, "Second, I am a professor, I am also a feminist, I am against this behavior because it harms women and it treats women like animals, we are not animals, we are humans, with rights." I stopped talking, glaring at him. He calmly looked at me and said " OK!" he turned around, grabbed his bag and out the door he went.
It took me several weeks to figure this out, but my analysis of this whole sorrid story came to this; There is a line in each classroom and culture defines that line, where it is, and why you should not cross it. Foreign students in American classrooms do not know where that line is. A smiling, warm, teacher is enough to throw this whole idea into disarray. Students have no idea what they should or should not say and how they should or should not act. It's like walking through a penny candy store with a trash bag and no clerk to take your money! Whatever these students feel like doing, they do it!
I realized that I was in the land of no boundries and I would have to set them, something I wasn't entirely ready to do yet at this level. However, if it meant saving some young Chinese man from trying to buy girl, it's on!
Two weeks into our second semester, a male student came up to me after class. He said "I want to buy girl." Oh, I said, you want to buy something for a girl, sure, what do you think would be nice to buy a girl? He scowled at me, "No, I want to buy girl." I nodded my head smiling, "Sure, you want to buy something for a girl, I understand." "No", he said sternly. " I want girl for sex."
"Where can I buy girl."
Now, it hadn't hit me that a young man would actually have the courage to come up to a female professor and actually ask her where he could "buy" girl. It also hadn't hit me that a student would feel so comfortable with me in class that he felt he could ask me such a question. After I realized what he just asked for, I could feel my face change. It started twisting and my eyebrows quickly had knit themselves together. I took on a different voice. "I am going to answer your question with two statments, " I said calmly "First, men do not buy women, it is against the law here, and if you try to "buy" a woman for sex, you will be arrested and sent home." I gasped for air, "Second, I am a professor, I am also a feminist, I am against this behavior because it harms women and it treats women like animals, we are not animals, we are humans, with rights." I stopped talking, glaring at him. He calmly looked at me and said " OK!" he turned around, grabbed his bag and out the door he went.
It took me several weeks to figure this out, but my analysis of this whole sorrid story came to this; There is a line in each classroom and culture defines that line, where it is, and why you should not cross it. Foreign students in American classrooms do not know where that line is. A smiling, warm, teacher is enough to throw this whole idea into disarray. Students have no idea what they should or should not say and how they should or should not act. It's like walking through a penny candy store with a trash bag and no clerk to take your money! Whatever these students feel like doing, they do it!
I realized that I was in the land of no boundries and I would have to set them, something I wasn't entirely ready to do yet at this level. However, if it meant saving some young Chinese man from trying to buy girl, it's on!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I have no idea what you just said!
It had come to my attention that after one semester of teaching that I was no longer a teacher. I was a councilor, a keeper of secrets, a clown, a pleading being, a giant pair of ears, a social worker, a housing advocate, a cultural Dr. Phil, Oprah (but without the money and the fame), a storyteller, a perplexed Bostonian trying to explain our bizarre behavior, and an eternal optimist.
After Valetudinarian changed his name to Miles, it became quite clear that he was....unusual.
He was rather odd, showing up to class very early, sitting at attention, looking straight ahead, as if there were some mind altering abyss to peer into. He was very formal, always greeting me and always looking off into the distance.
Our second week had started and true to form, I had the students grouped and engaged in work that they would present at the end of class. Miles would sit on the outside and peer into the group he was suppose to be involved in. When asked to join in, he stood up and starting yelling in Chinese at the girl who merely asked for his participation. Immediately, my student who had been shouted at, got up, screamed at him and bolted into the restroom.
I just stood there. What the *#! just happened? No teaching seminar, no amount of graduate training can prepare you for this. I gave the class the mandate to carry on and told Miles to sit down and keep his trap shut! I raced out the door to find my student in the girls room crying her heart out. She interpreted his remarks and now I understood why she reacted in such an explosive manner. He had told her that she was stupid, silly and had no business telling him what to do. I was stunned. So, I grabbed the verbal bull by the horn and talked her into coming back to class. I would deal with Miles! Her eyes glistened at the thought of Miles getting his! Oh, did I mention that I had to be a psychologist as well?
She believed me, she calmed down, she followed me back to class. She opened the door and raced back to her group. I asked to see Miles out in the hallway. You could hear the crickets, I swear to god! I took him in another room and ripped into him. He tried to stick up for himself, but thanks to my inablity to tolerate injustice, I shut him down.
I went back to the office that day stunned that this kind of behavior could take place in MY classroom! After I dragged myself into the office and threw myself down into the chair, I spilled my guts to my colleague. Ah, colleagues! What would the world be without them! She had more experience with Asian culture than I did. After she heard about the incident, she filled me in on the very real world of intimidation, bullying and harrassment within this culture and told me that I was in for more of this, as many of my students felt it was perfectly fine to behave in this fashion while in class. Huh? Why did they feel this kind of behavior was acceptable? The answer was simple.
There is a line in a classroom and most American students know not to cross it. What I was experiencing was a lineless classroom. These students did not know where the line was! A friendly, warm, smiling teacher meant that you can do and say anything without any kind of repercussions!
Looking back on this, this was the day I developed my Jean Claude Van Dam teaching persona!
After Valetudinarian changed his name to Miles, it became quite clear that he was....unusual.
He was rather odd, showing up to class very early, sitting at attention, looking straight ahead, as if there were some mind altering abyss to peer into. He was very formal, always greeting me and always looking off into the distance.
Our second week had started and true to form, I had the students grouped and engaged in work that they would present at the end of class. Miles would sit on the outside and peer into the group he was suppose to be involved in. When asked to join in, he stood up and starting yelling in Chinese at the girl who merely asked for his participation. Immediately, my student who had been shouted at, got up, screamed at him and bolted into the restroom.
I just stood there. What the *#! just happened? No teaching seminar, no amount of graduate training can prepare you for this. I gave the class the mandate to carry on and told Miles to sit down and keep his trap shut! I raced out the door to find my student in the girls room crying her heart out. She interpreted his remarks and now I understood why she reacted in such an explosive manner. He had told her that she was stupid, silly and had no business telling him what to do. I was stunned. So, I grabbed the verbal bull by the horn and talked her into coming back to class. I would deal with Miles! Her eyes glistened at the thought of Miles getting his! Oh, did I mention that I had to be a psychologist as well?
She believed me, she calmed down, she followed me back to class. She opened the door and raced back to her group. I asked to see Miles out in the hallway. You could hear the crickets, I swear to god! I took him in another room and ripped into him. He tried to stick up for himself, but thanks to my inablity to tolerate injustice, I shut him down.
I went back to the office that day stunned that this kind of behavior could take place in MY classroom! After I dragged myself into the office and threw myself down into the chair, I spilled my guts to my colleague. Ah, colleagues! What would the world be without them! She had more experience with Asian culture than I did. After she heard about the incident, she filled me in on the very real world of intimidation, bullying and harrassment within this culture and told me that I was in for more of this, as many of my students felt it was perfectly fine to behave in this fashion while in class. Huh? Why did they feel this kind of behavior was acceptable? The answer was simple.
There is a line in a classroom and most American students know not to cross it. What I was experiencing was a lineless classroom. These students did not know where the line was! A friendly, warm, smiling teacher meant that you can do and say anything without any kind of repercussions!
Looking back on this, this was the day I developed my Jean Claude Van Dam teaching persona!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Summer Session Group 2
As the first semester came to an end, I looked forward to starting my second semester with the program, and true to form, it was not boring!
The first day of my first class, I had the students state their name, where they are from and what (if any) English name they have chosen. My first student, a rather dower looking individual lights up and says "My name is valetudinarian". I stopped dead in my tracks looked at him and said "I'm sorry, can you repeat that again?" He did. Six times. He told me he loved this word, it was his favorite GRE word and he wanted it to be his name.
I spent the next two days trying to convince him to change his name. After I found out that his favorite word valedudinarian meant a person of a weak or sickly constitution ( I had no clue what it meant) I really kicked into overdrive to get him to change his name. I used every excuse in the book, including the one that Americans will have no idea what it means, let alone actually be able to pronounce it! Finally, with sadness, after two days of cajoling, he changed his name. He was now Miles Dyson. I had to ask where he got that name, he told me off of a website that sells cleaners.
yup, we're off to a beautiful, predictable start.
The first day of my first class, I had the students state their name, where they are from and what (if any) English name they have chosen. My first student, a rather dower looking individual lights up and says "My name is valetudinarian". I stopped dead in my tracks looked at him and said "I'm sorry, can you repeat that again?" He did. Six times. He told me he loved this word, it was his favorite GRE word and he wanted it to be his name.
I spent the next two days trying to convince him to change his name. After I found out that his favorite word valedudinarian meant a person of a weak or sickly constitution ( I had no clue what it meant) I really kicked into overdrive to get him to change his name. I used every excuse in the book, including the one that Americans will have no idea what it means, let alone actually be able to pronounce it! Finally, with sadness, after two days of cajoling, he changed his name. He was now Miles Dyson. I had to ask where he got that name, he told me off of a website that sells cleaners.
yup, we're off to a beautiful, predictable start.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
I know I said that I wanted to write this blog chronologically, but I can't help interrupting myself here. We are six weeks into the semester (Fall 09) and many of the teachers are now telling stories about their students. Here are a few of the English names that the students have chosen.
First, we have a student who has insisted on taking the name Caesar Salad, that's right, as in the Au Bon Pain $6.95 lunch. When the teacher pushed him to change his name, he remained firm stating that he liked the name, it had poetry to it, and he was completely satisfied being called Caesar Salad for the next four years.....pass the croutons!
Next, we have a student whose name is Cheese Wang. (No, that's not a typo). When pressed to change his name, he simply stated, I like cheese and I want to be called cheese. My advice to this young man is to stay away from heat lamps and watch out for giant bowls of salsa, someone might get the wrong idea!
Now back to our regularly scheduled semester!
First, we have a student who has insisted on taking the name Caesar Salad, that's right, as in the Au Bon Pain $6.95 lunch. When the teacher pushed him to change his name, he remained firm stating that he liked the name, it had poetry to it, and he was completely satisfied being called Caesar Salad for the next four years.....pass the croutons!
Next, we have a student whose name is Cheese Wang. (No, that's not a typo). When pressed to change his name, he simply stated, I like cheese and I want to be called cheese. My advice to this young man is to stay away from heat lamps and watch out for giant bowls of salsa, someone might get the wrong idea!
Now back to our regularly scheduled semester!
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