3:30 pm
Drizzle
I didn’t get back to see Ilma and her brothers. I felt really bad about that. I had made a promise. I called Ilma’s teacher and asked her how the rest of the day went.
“Did you know they count to ten in Guatemala just like we do?”
I almost started to laugh, and then I realized she was serious. They told the teacher that Ilma couldn’t speak English. She couldn’t. Yet, sometime that day, Ilma, in an effort to show the teacher she knew something must have counted to ten to her as she had done for me.
As I was hanging up the phone, another teacher told me she needed to speak to me.
“I had two years of Spanish in college. I don’t remember a word. Well, you know, adios, taco, burrito, stuff like that. Now, about Gustavo, he’s been here six weeks already and isn’t speaking any English. What is wrong with him? I think we need to test him for Special Ed. Don’t you.”
“No, I told her. “Let’s give him some time.”
Another teacher stopped me in the hall and asked how everything was.
“Just fine,” I told her.
“It must be so boring. Flipping flashcards all day Dog. Cat. This is a pencil. This is a desk. You must have the most monotonous job in the world. “
If you only knew I thought . If you only knew.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Part III
Noon
Storm warning
The high school was buzzing with high school noise and everybody was taller than me.
Maria, my 11th grade student had only one thing on her mind today. “What is the recipe for baked potatoes?”She wanted to know. She had one for lunch and now wanted to know just how that was done. I told her how. “No, please, the truth, how is it done?” I think she wanted the procedure to be difficult.
“You’ll believe me when you try it,” I told her. That she told me was the most sense I had made all day.
Ramon, my senior, had a more perplexing problem. “AM is morning, right? And PM is afternoon, right? The why is there AM and FM on a radio? Is AM for listening in the morning and PM for listening in the afternoon?”
I liked his reasoning on this, and told him so. Then I tried to explain something about radio waves and having more stations that could be heard at further distances, not that, I really understood it either.
He listened intently and then asked why his logic appeared so much more reasonable than mine.
2:15 pm
Rain and Wind
Felipe was in trouble with the bus driver at Central Elementary. It seems he threw a dead cat into the bus. Mrs. McCall, the vice principal, explained to me the seriousness of this action
“The dead cat had worms.”
“Worms?”
“Maggots, lots and lots of maggots. You must go talk to his father.”
I went to trailer park where Felipe and his family lived. I knew his family well because all of his brothers and sisters were also my students. As was the case, a lot of my students were related to each other.
“Hola, Ricardo, Como le va?” Hi Ricardo, how is it going.? We talked about the weather and food and the glories of his home state of Guanajuato, Mexico. I asked him if he had heard about the cat and the bus driver.
“Ah si,,yes”, he said, “the cat had worms.”
“Maggots”, I said.
“Whose cat was it? The bus driver had a cat?”
“I don’t know”
“Why did the cat get on the bus?”
“Felipe threw the cat into the bus.”
“The cat was hurt?”
“The cat was dead.”
About that time Felipe’s uncle comes out of the front door. “I knew that cat. That cat was not well.”
Felipe had arrived home and turned the corner of the trailer. “Is this about the cat? It is OK about the cat.”
“What do you mean?” the father, the uncle, and I ask all at the same time.
“The cat didn’t have a head.”
Storm warning
The high school was buzzing with high school noise and everybody was taller than me.
Maria, my 11th grade student had only one thing on her mind today. “What is the recipe for baked potatoes?”She wanted to know. She had one for lunch and now wanted to know just how that was done. I told her how. “No, please, the truth, how is it done?” I think she wanted the procedure to be difficult.
“You’ll believe me when you try it,” I told her. That she told me was the most sense I had made all day.
Ramon, my senior, had a more perplexing problem. “AM is morning, right? And PM is afternoon, right? The why is there AM and FM on a radio? Is AM for listening in the morning and PM for listening in the afternoon?”
I liked his reasoning on this, and told him so. Then I tried to explain something about radio waves and having more stations that could be heard at further distances, not that, I really understood it either.
He listened intently and then asked why his logic appeared so much more reasonable than mine.
2:15 pm
Rain and Wind
Felipe was in trouble with the bus driver at Central Elementary. It seems he threw a dead cat into the bus. Mrs. McCall, the vice principal, explained to me the seriousness of this action
“The dead cat had worms.”
“Worms?”
“Maggots, lots and lots of maggots. You must go talk to his father.”
I went to trailer park where Felipe and his family lived. I knew his family well because all of his brothers and sisters were also my students. As was the case, a lot of my students were related to each other.
“Hola, Ricardo, Como le va?” Hi Ricardo, how is it going.? We talked about the weather and food and the glories of his home state of Guanajuato, Mexico. I asked him if he had heard about the cat and the bus driver.
“Ah si,,yes”, he said, “the cat had worms.”
“Maggots”, I said.
“Whose cat was it? The bus driver had a cat?”
“I don’t know”
“Why did the cat get on the bus?”
“Felipe threw the cat into the bus.”
“The cat was hurt?”
“The cat was dead.”
About that time Felipe’s uncle comes out of the front door. “I knew that cat. That cat was not well.”
Felipe had arrived home and turned the corner of the trailer. “Is this about the cat? It is OK about the cat.”
“What do you mean?” the father, the uncle, and I ask all at the same time.
“The cat didn’t have a head.”
Monday, March 9, 2009
Part II
9:00 am
More rain
I had to cut short my visit to Westside because some non-English speaking children and their parents had showed up at Northside and I was needed to help them enroll. When I arrived I found Ilma, Jorge, and Oscar Lopez and their parents in the school office. As soon as they heard my greetings to them in Spanish all five faces softened and big smiles filled the entire room. There was a lot of paper work to go over and forms to fill out and be signed, questions to be asked and answers to be given. It seemed to take an unusually long amount of time. The parents left and the three students and I set off the find their classes. First, Jorge went to the second grade, next Oscar to the third, and then Ilma to the sixth. At Ilma’s class the students were taking a test. So, Ilma and I stood in the hall while the class finished and talked.
She told me about Guatemala, and how she would go to the main store in the next village and watch CNN Internacional on a satellite the store keeper had rigged up. She could discuss world events extremely well. I asked her if she knew any English and she slowly and perfectly counted to ten. I told her I would try and get back before school ended and we would talk some more.
10:30 am
Raining harder
I drove to my third school that morning and saw two police cars. The principal, Mr. Rivers and some other people I didn’t know were standing on the embankment that overlooked a drainage ditch. There in the culvert that went under the road was my student, Pedro. Apparently, Pedro has tried to run away from school and some people who lived close to the school had called the police. Mr. Rivers asked me if I could get Pedro back into the building. I knew that Pedro distrusted authority and that this was going to be an awkward situation. I told the principal that I thought everyone should leave, including the police and their cars. Their presence was only making matters worse.
The look on his face told me that he questioned my judgment on this matter: but, not having any answers of his own, he agreed to have the police cars go in front of the
building out of sight, but still ready.
I walked in the ditch and down to the end, “Well, hey what’s new?” I asked him in my best colloquial Spanish, like I just happened to run into him there. I stepped inside the giant culvert to get out of the rain. Pedro was looking down and not talking. I knew he would talk when he was ready.
After a long silence filled with thunder and spattering rain, Pedro pleaded his case. “I had to get out of there. In Mexico, my school was outside. I could see birds and feel the sun.
The teachers don’t like me because I don’t speak English.”
After talking some more and explaining that running away was not the answer. I knew there would have to be some sort of win-win situation for both Pedro and Mr. Rivers- for Pedro because he didn’t need a rebel image and for Mr. Rivers because after all, the police were at his school. Pedro spent the rest of the day in school detention. The police left. Mr. Rivers was satisfied.
I went to my next school
to be continued......
More rain
I had to cut short my visit to Westside because some non-English speaking children and their parents had showed up at Northside and I was needed to help them enroll. When I arrived I found Ilma, Jorge, and Oscar Lopez and their parents in the school office. As soon as they heard my greetings to them in Spanish all five faces softened and big smiles filled the entire room. There was a lot of paper work to go over and forms to fill out and be signed, questions to be asked and answers to be given. It seemed to take an unusually long amount of time. The parents left and the three students and I set off the find their classes. First, Jorge went to the second grade, next Oscar to the third, and then Ilma to the sixth. At Ilma’s class the students were taking a test. So, Ilma and I stood in the hall while the class finished and talked.
She told me about Guatemala, and how she would go to the main store in the next village and watch CNN Internacional on a satellite the store keeper had rigged up. She could discuss world events extremely well. I asked her if she knew any English and she slowly and perfectly counted to ten. I told her I would try and get back before school ended and we would talk some more.
10:30 am
Raining harder
I drove to my third school that morning and saw two police cars. The principal, Mr. Rivers and some other people I didn’t know were standing on the embankment that overlooked a drainage ditch. There in the culvert that went under the road was my student, Pedro. Apparently, Pedro has tried to run away from school and some people who lived close to the school had called the police. Mr. Rivers asked me if I could get Pedro back into the building. I knew that Pedro distrusted authority and that this was going to be an awkward situation. I told the principal that I thought everyone should leave, including the police and their cars. Their presence was only making matters worse.
The look on his face told me that he questioned my judgment on this matter: but, not having any answers of his own, he agreed to have the police cars go in front of the
building out of sight, but still ready.
I walked in the ditch and down to the end, “Well, hey what’s new?” I asked him in my best colloquial Spanish, like I just happened to run into him there. I stepped inside the giant culvert to get out of the rain. Pedro was looking down and not talking. I knew he would talk when he was ready.
After a long silence filled with thunder and spattering rain, Pedro pleaded his case. “I had to get out of there. In Mexico, my school was outside. I could see birds and feel the sun.
The teachers don’t like me because I don’t speak English.”
After talking some more and explaining that running away was not the answer. I knew there would have to be some sort of win-win situation for both Pedro and Mr. Rivers- for Pedro because he didn’t need a rebel image and for Mr. Rivers because after all, the police were at his school. Pedro spent the rest of the day in school detention. The police left. Mr. Rivers was satisfied.
I went to my next school
to be continued......
Saturday, March 7, 2009
A day in the life of English as a Second Language Teacher Part One
Somewhere - another state - several years ago
8:00 am
Raining
I was going to see a new student that morning. I went to Westside Elementary School to Mrs. Smith’s class. I knocked softly on the opened door and gave my apologies for the interruption. I asked to see Jose. Mrs. Smith looked at Jose, looked at me, looked at Jose and said, “Jose, your mother is here.” Jose jumped out of his chair, ran to me and said, “Mama,’ I smiled at Jose and said, “Mijo.” Then we walked out into the hall.
“For never seeing each other before we improvise very well,” I told him in Spanish.
I don’t think he understood improvise, but he squeezed my hand and said, “I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”
8:00 am
Raining
I was going to see a new student that morning. I went to Westside Elementary School to Mrs. Smith’s class. I knocked softly on the opened door and gave my apologies for the interruption. I asked to see Jose. Mrs. Smith looked at Jose, looked at me, looked at Jose and said, “Jose, your mother is here.” Jose jumped out of his chair, ran to me and said, “Mama,’ I smiled at Jose and said, “Mijo.” Then we walked out into the hall.
“For never seeing each other before we improvise very well,” I told him in Spanish.
I don’t think he understood improvise, but he squeezed my hand and said, “I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Teacher Expectations
Teacher and Student Expectation
Teachers are part entertainers, part intellectuals, part soothsayers. Many teachers believe that they can predict how students will achieve and behave just by fleeting first impressions on the first day of school.
What causes teacher to form such a rapid opinion? Numerous aspects like, height, weight, gender, race, ethnicity, first name, last name, attractiveness, dialect, first language, class, and parent occupation, all contribute to teacher expectations.
If then indeed, first impressions are lasting impressions, how do teachers express their expectations? By the climate they create in the classroom, by the feedback they give to the students, by the way they teach, and by the responses they elicit.
This kind of self-fulfilling prophecy can be a two-way street. Students form expectations of teachers. Students want teachers who give them a chance. Students want teachers who don’t judge them without merit. Students want teachers who are patience, knowledgeable, organized, and fair.
To test yourself on what kind of a teacher you are, ask yourself this question:
Who were my favorites students and why?
To test yourself on what kind of a student you are, ask yourself this question:
Who was my favorite teacher and why?
Teachers are part entertainers, part intellectuals, part soothsayers. Many teachers believe that they can predict how students will achieve and behave just by fleeting first impressions on the first day of school.
What causes teacher to form such a rapid opinion? Numerous aspects like, height, weight, gender, race, ethnicity, first name, last name, attractiveness, dialect, first language, class, and parent occupation, all contribute to teacher expectations.
If then indeed, first impressions are lasting impressions, how do teachers express their expectations? By the climate they create in the classroom, by the feedback they give to the students, by the way they teach, and by the responses they elicit.
This kind of self-fulfilling prophecy can be a two-way street. Students form expectations of teachers. Students want teachers who give them a chance. Students want teachers who don’t judge them without merit. Students want teachers who are patience, knowledgeable, organized, and fair.
To test yourself on what kind of a teacher you are, ask yourself this question:
Who were my favorites students and why?
To test yourself on what kind of a student you are, ask yourself this question:
Who was my favorite teacher and why?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
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