Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Ruminations on a Gloomy Monday
As gloomy Mondays can often be, today was long. Type. Print. Copy. Staple. Teach. Type. Print. Copy. Staple. Teach. At this moment, as I sit at the head of my tenth grade English class, the florescent lights bearing down on my tired eyes, I can feel the dull and aching pain that is known as teaching. Organizing a classroom of twenty-five fifteen and sixteen year old students is one thing. Convincing them, only thirty minutes before they are free for the day, that writing about their holiday will not only be helpful for exam preparation but will also be fun seems a near impossibility.
Even with the daily struggles, I force myself to find the energy to take a step back, look at my life, and realize how lucky I am to be here at this moment. I am humbled that they welcome me into their lives and look to me as some sort of figure of authority, or perhaps even just a good storyteller.
Seeing that we are almost half way through the year, it is natural to begin thinking about the departure we will face at the end of June. Walking away from the relationships have formed with each of my students individually will be quite hard. That thought, looming vaguely in the distance, is of a unique importance. It reminds me to enjoy each passing day, to take the struggles in stride, and to continue to positively impact the lives of my students through both the valuation of the acquisition of knowledge and positive modeling of citizenship in our ever expanding and globalizing world.
A deep and consuming silence has taken over the classroom, as their hands rapidly convert the abstractions in their immersed minds to poignant manifestations on paper. Watching this process naturally leads to gratification as I realize that I have (however small it might be) some part in it.
Even with the daily struggles, I force myself to find the energy to take a step back, look at my life, and realize how lucky I am to be here at this moment. I am humbled that they welcome me into their lives and look to me as some sort of figure of authority, or perhaps even just a good storyteller.
Seeing that we are almost half way through the year, it is natural to begin thinking about the departure we will face at the end of June. Walking away from the relationships have formed with each of my students individually will be quite hard. That thought, looming vaguely in the distance, is of a unique importance. It reminds me to enjoy each passing day, to take the struggles in stride, and to continue to positively impact the lives of my students through both the valuation of the acquisition of knowledge and positive modeling of citizenship in our ever expanding and globalizing world.
A deep and consuming silence has taken over the classroom, as their hands rapidly convert the abstractions in their immersed minds to poignant manifestations on paper. Watching this process naturally leads to gratification as I realize that I have (however small it might be) some part in it.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Saving Face (or, A Litle China in My Cup)
I must climb thousands of stairs each week. At work, climbing to my classes. Returning from work, and making the hike up to my forth floor apartment. Out in the city, descending and ascending mountains of them to reach subway tunnels meters below the street. Up to elevated crosswalks at too busy intersections. Back down to the street.
Until today, as far as my memory can recall, I have only tripped once. Descending the elevated crosswalk in Xuijiahui. Wearing heels. At night. Carrying a heavy bag, in a crowd of people. A tricky situation indeed. I managed to save that one, and only wobbled about for a split second.
Today, I was not so lucky. Today, I fell. Going up the stairs. In broad daylight. Wearing sneakers. I was on my way to class. With books and papers in my hand. Holding a cup of hot tang. Yes, hot tang. Tang like the delicious orange imitation. I’ll explain later.
My hands -- restricted by copies of a New Yorker article, comprehension worksheets, and vocabulary lists -- were unable to break my fall. My knee and my elbow smashed into the metal edge of the tiled stair. Great for no slip gripping on the way down and, apparently, great for bone breaking impact on the way up.
In a frantic attempt to save my face (in the literal sense) I put out my right hand. My right hand, however, had my beloved grey and white Ikea mug, so skillfully filled with hot tang, only moments before. Scalding hot tang. The cup, upon making contact with the metal corner of the tiled stair, exploded. The contents exploded with it, sending searing hot bright orange fluid everywhere.
Unsure of what to do, of what hurt most, and of the damage done to my precious lesson plans, I simply walked away. I set down my papers in a tang-free zone, and went back to collect the dozens of pieces of mutilated and humiliated Swedish kitchenware. What a sad fate, I thought. Perhaps it was a form of suicide, in reaction to the disgrace of being filled with hot tang for the past few days. I picked up the pieces, and dropped them in the trashcan nearby.
Having seen the event unfold from the warmth and comfort of her front office, the nice office lady came out with a mop and began wiping up the mess. Forgetting that I spoke no Chinese and she no English, I asked her if I could help. She half-yelled something in Chinese, and I decided it would be best for my face (in both the literal and figurative sense) to calmly walk away and seek quiet solace in my office in the few precious minutes before I had to be standing in front of my English 10 class, supposedly teaching them English.
The futility of the situation grew at the same rate as the swelling in my knee as I attempted to communicate with them the gravity of the economic situation overtaking the print industry. Their nonchalance and near delight at the notion that books, the bane of their existence, might actually meet their end made the throbbing in my knee almost unbearable.
To put it simply, there was a little too much China in my cup for one day.
Until today, as far as my memory can recall, I have only tripped once. Descending the elevated crosswalk in Xuijiahui. Wearing heels. At night. Carrying a heavy bag, in a crowd of people. A tricky situation indeed. I managed to save that one, and only wobbled about for a split second.
Today, I was not so lucky. Today, I fell. Going up the stairs. In broad daylight. Wearing sneakers. I was on my way to class. With books and papers in my hand. Holding a cup of hot tang. Yes, hot tang. Tang like the delicious orange imitation. I’ll explain later.
My hands -- restricted by copies of a New Yorker article, comprehension worksheets, and vocabulary lists -- were unable to break my fall. My knee and my elbow smashed into the metal edge of the tiled stair. Great for no slip gripping on the way down and, apparently, great for bone breaking impact on the way up.
In a frantic attempt to save my face (in the literal sense) I put out my right hand. My right hand, however, had my beloved grey and white Ikea mug, so skillfully filled with hot tang, only moments before. Scalding hot tang. The cup, upon making contact with the metal corner of the tiled stair, exploded. The contents exploded with it, sending searing hot bright orange fluid everywhere.
Unsure of what to do, of what hurt most, and of the damage done to my precious lesson plans, I simply walked away. I set down my papers in a tang-free zone, and went back to collect the dozens of pieces of mutilated and humiliated Swedish kitchenware. What a sad fate, I thought. Perhaps it was a form of suicide, in reaction to the disgrace of being filled with hot tang for the past few days. I picked up the pieces, and dropped them in the trashcan nearby.
Having seen the event unfold from the warmth and comfort of her front office, the nice office lady came out with a mop and began wiping up the mess. Forgetting that I spoke no Chinese and she no English, I asked her if I could help. She half-yelled something in Chinese, and I decided it would be best for my face (in both the literal and figurative sense) to calmly walk away and seek quiet solace in my office in the few precious minutes before I had to be standing in front of my English 10 class, supposedly teaching them English.
The futility of the situation grew at the same rate as the swelling in my knee as I attempted to communicate with them the gravity of the economic situation overtaking the print industry. Their nonchalance and near delight at the notion that books, the bane of their existence, might actually meet their end made the throbbing in my knee almost unbearable.
To put it simply, there was a little too much China in my cup for one day.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Project Presentations!
This week, I had three of my four classes work on various projects. My 10th grade English class had to do oral book reports for their independent reading books. My 11th grade world history class had to develop their own invention (we are studying the industrial revolution). My 9th grade English class had to develop a business idea, a logo for the business, and write a business proposal letter to potential investors.
The following are the quite entertaining results . . .
From 10th Grade English:
From 11th Grade History:
From 9th Grade English:
The following are the quite entertaining results . . .
From 10th Grade English:
From 11th Grade History:
From 9th Grade English:
Friday, November 21, 2008
Some of my Students
I am finally beginning to develop some real relationships with my classes as a whole, and with a few specific students individually. I am amazed by the time amount of time it took me to get used to this job (we are about to head into week 13 of the semester!)
My favorite class is my English 9 class. It is a small class, only 14 students. Throughout the whole semester, 3 students have moved up to native level English, and I have received two new students from a lower level class this year. Here are the profiles of some notable students:
1. John: Part Swedish, part Chinese, he is one of my favorite students. He sits in the back of class and is pretty shy. Before classes and between classes (on days that we have a double period), he hangs out by my desk, but not to chat. He is always trying to look through my things and figure out what the homework will be, what the next lesson will be, etc. His English is not the best in the class, and his handwriting is comically horrific. His quiet and calm demeanor is probably one of the reasons I like him most. His smile makes me laugh because he always looks innocent and guilty at the same time.
2. Lidia: Lidia sits in the front of class and works harder than anyone else. She always uses every moment of class time to complete her assignments, often asking to turn them in later in the day to finish, say, a story that is, easily, three or four times longer than anyone else’s. Even with all of this effort, she is pretty bad at grammar and is very self- conscious of it. She is the head of the Animation Club at the school, and I see her becoming some renowned anime illustrator.
3. The Terrible Three (Ryan, Jin, Jacky): They are the worst students in class, both academically and behaviorally, but somehow, they make me laugh everyday.
Ryan is pretty terrible at English, but is always ready to shout out answers. Whenever he gets something wrong, his entire face turns into this glowing smile and his cheeks turn red. I think it is a smile of embarrassment, but it does not seem to affect him any further than that.
Jin makes a point to say something nice about me everyday. However, I know it is not as innocent as it may seem. It might be sarcastic, it might be him trying to butter me up, it might just be an attempt to embarrass me and derail my lecture. I have finally had to ban him from using me in any of his grammar or vocabulary example sentences.
Jacky. Oh, where do I begin? Most of the students in my class are 14. I have one 13 year old. Jacky, for some reason unknown to me, is 17! This affects his behavior, and his behavior effects his performance in the class. This week, I finally had to move him up to the front of the class, and of course Jin and Ryan came with him. So, right in the middle front of the class are my three most disruptive students. I often find myself having to literally talk over their heads to get to the students who are listening.
4. JinHwa: With black hair and black rimmed glasses, standing hardly five feet tall, placed in the back of class, she is the most silent existence I have ever come into contact with. I often forget that she is even in the classroom. Her English is probably the best in the class, but she refuses to speak. And when I say refuses, I literally mean refuses. If I dare to ask her to answer a question, she just shakes her head. One day, after class, I asked her if she was going to try to move up to the native level. She said “no” because there was an interview involved in the process. This girl really hates to speak English. I have begun to understand her better though, and from this more clear understanding, I have begun to like her more and more.
My favorite class is my English 9 class. It is a small class, only 14 students. Throughout the whole semester, 3 students have moved up to native level English, and I have received two new students from a lower level class this year. Here are the profiles of some notable students:
1. John: Part Swedish, part Chinese, he is one of my favorite students. He sits in the back of class and is pretty shy. Before classes and between classes (on days that we have a double period), he hangs out by my desk, but not to chat. He is always trying to look through my things and figure out what the homework will be, what the next lesson will be, etc. His English is not the best in the class, and his handwriting is comically horrific. His quiet and calm demeanor is probably one of the reasons I like him most. His smile makes me laugh because he always looks innocent and guilty at the same time.
2. Lidia: Lidia sits in the front of class and works harder than anyone else. She always uses every moment of class time to complete her assignments, often asking to turn them in later in the day to finish, say, a story that is, easily, three or four times longer than anyone else’s. Even with all of this effort, she is pretty bad at grammar and is very self- conscious of it. She is the head of the Animation Club at the school, and I see her becoming some renowned anime illustrator.
3. The Terrible Three (Ryan, Jin, Jacky): They are the worst students in class, both academically and behaviorally, but somehow, they make me laugh everyday.
Ryan is pretty terrible at English, but is always ready to shout out answers. Whenever he gets something wrong, his entire face turns into this glowing smile and his cheeks turn red. I think it is a smile of embarrassment, but it does not seem to affect him any further than that.
Jin makes a point to say something nice about me everyday. However, I know it is not as innocent as it may seem. It might be sarcastic, it might be him trying to butter me up, it might just be an attempt to embarrass me and derail my lecture. I have finally had to ban him from using me in any of his grammar or vocabulary example sentences.
Jacky. Oh, where do I begin? Most of the students in my class are 14. I have one 13 year old. Jacky, for some reason unknown to me, is 17! This affects his behavior, and his behavior effects his performance in the class. This week, I finally had to move him up to the front of the class, and of course Jin and Ryan came with him. So, right in the middle front of the class are my three most disruptive students. I often find myself having to literally talk over their heads to get to the students who are listening.
4. JinHwa: With black hair and black rimmed glasses, standing hardly five feet tall, placed in the back of class, she is the most silent existence I have ever come into contact with. I often forget that she is even in the classroom. Her English is probably the best in the class, but she refuses to speak. And when I say refuses, I literally mean refuses. If I dare to ask her to answer a question, she just shakes her head. One day, after class, I asked her if she was going to try to move up to the native level. She said “no” because there was an interview involved in the process. This girl really hates to speak English. I have begun to understand her better though, and from this more clear understanding, I have begun to like her more and more.
Monday, November 17, 2008
"Financial Tsunami" OR Reason No. 258 Why I No Longer Write:
Because I spend my nights correcting things like this:
And here is the "Peer Revision" suggestions for the paper above.
I am not sure changing "crisis" here to "tsunami" really translates, but it is the post-modernists era, so who am I to say . . . ?
Oh, thats right. I'm the teacher.
And here is the "Peer Revision" suggestions for the paper above.
I am not sure changing "crisis" here to "tsunami" really translates, but it is the post-modernists era, so who am I to say . . . ?
Oh, thats right. I'm the teacher.
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