rust
August 24th, 2008I’m trying my best not to feel too down.
I’m not sure whether it’s the rain, the grey skies, or perhaps the passing of indistinct days.
I feel sad.
I’m trying my best not to feel too down.
I’m not sure whether it’s the rain, the grey skies, or perhaps the passing of indistinct days.
I feel sad.
The energy changed this week as I had made the decision to move most of the remaining students in my beginner conversation class to the next level.
With some of my students having already left to go home, the class has become a different class, and I’ve seen my remaining original students improve drastically, save for one.
”You are Russe!?” I exclaimed, as Amar glanced at me with uncertainty. The girl behind the coffee counter backstepped at my exclamation.
“But A-mar! Russian women are beautiful, non?” I gestured in exaggerated shrug.
The barista smiled, and waited patiently as I mispronounced the listings of all the iced coffee drinks in my attempt to make a choice.
“I want a fork.”
The girls glared at us in disbelief and started laughing. Ammar didn’t get it, and I was wincing. At least I had something to talk about when I taught pronunciation.
I’m beginning to recall some of the difficulties I experienced as a teacher in China.
I thought that teaching multi-cultural classes would be much easier or stimulating, but the challenges are much the same.
At my school, we get a continuous intake of students. This is necessary for a continuous funding business model, but it causes problems for how classes are run. I have to be ready every week to get a new set of students plopped right in the middle of a carefully constructed set of lesson plans.
These guys miss out on the pre-requisite units we cover, and somehow I’m supposed to just deal with it.
There’s nothing like the adrenaline that comes with that sense that you’re both hunter and hunted.
Second to this is the sensation of being shot near point-blank range by some idiot who refuses to give you a chance to surrender.
This week has been a tough first week for classes.
Finding my sea-legs in the world of teaching is a tough order, given that I hadn’t done it (or remembered much of it) in three years.