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!

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!

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?"

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.

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!

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?

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!