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education and teaching

Regret

Tuesday 10 September 1996 | 0 Comments

This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. It was all I could do to keep from walking out on IIB this afternoon. The chaos of VI combined with the late students in II was just too much. To begin with, I have no teeth concerning tardiness. You’re late–so what. You’re not even considered “late” until it’s at least fifteen minutes. It’s like saying, “Don’t murder, but if you do, we’ll write down in a little notebook that you murdered and then, oh, won’t you be sorry!” It’s a fucking joke to say that there’s even any such a thing as tardiness. Second, I can’t even communicate the most basic things with 99% of my students. This is going to be the most hellish two years of my life–that is assuming of course that I can survive this first damn semester.

10:10 p.m.

I’ve calmed down significantly since I wrote that. I am not sure where all the frustration went, but I am now determined to beat these kids at their own game. I’m going to teach them whether or not they want to learn.

What is really surprising is the difference between the classes. In IA they are almost falling over themselves volunteering. In IB they are reserved; in II they are comatose. I don’t know what the problem is but it will not defeat me!

I taught V and VI today for the first time. What an experience! Imagine trying to keep 10-12 year-olds on task when you don’t share a common language! I don’t know what I’ll accomplish with just one hour a week in each class. But anything is better than nothing, right? Let’s hope that cliché is true.

First Day Teaching Primary School

Monday 09 September 1996 | 0 Comments

I taught at the primary school for the first time today: seventh grade. In many ways they remind me of the Chameleons. I think twelve- and thirteen-year-olds are universal. I was pleasantly surprised by their English.

Return from Krakow

Friday 06 September 1996 | 0 Comments

Danuta and I made it to Kraków and back today and so now our students have books. I did not like having to get out of bed at 5:00 this morning, though. It was a boring day for the most part, as I feared it would be.

I managed to find Kevin’s office and we talked for a little bit. It was nice to see him again—a familiar face will do wonders for one’s morale . . .

It is so cold here. My hands are numb and my feet too, though I am bundled up. I hope it won’t be like this during the winter. Right now the heat is not on and I am suffering for it . . .

School Days

Thursday 05 September 1996 | 0 Comments

I survived my first week here, but things will only get more difficult: My schedule is slightly brutal now that I have taken on four additional hours in the primary school. I don’t know what I will do when it comes time to start a secondary project. I am going to count my time at the primary school as at least a portion of those necessary hours.

Tomorrow I am going to Kraków again. We have to pick up books for the kids. I don’t think I would mind so much if it wasn’t for the time: The bus leaves here around 6:00 a.m. The good thing is that I will be able to track down Kevin, I hope. I never thought I’d be complaining about having to go to Kraków. Have things become so commonplace already?

It is raining, again. The day began with tempting sunshine, but by the time school began there were clouds in the sky and the rain came shortly after that.

First Impressions

Wednesday 04 September 1996 | 0 Comments

Second class went much better today. I am relieved. I hope I am not going too far in saying that I have given them some hope that my classes will be somehow different from what they are used to. First class went fine, but I am a bit worried about my inability to communicate with them.

One thing that made me feel so good in class is that I got many of them to smile. I don’t know how many Polish teachers even do that.

A few words on the Polish education system: It seems that most teachers (in the past anyway) never treat students with respect. In fact, some of the things I’ve heard about border on contemptuousness. Many of the teachers ridicule students. I hope that my different (hopefully respectful) approach will yield good results. I want to help these kids–maybe this will help.

First Day Teaching

Tuesday 03 September 1996 | 0 Comments

I begin tomorrow with back-to-back periods with II. Since the class is not yet split up I will have to do two lessons. After today’s apathetic reception I am a little nervous about this. I have two lessons prepared, but they both rely entirely on active class participation. We shall see . . . All the same, I refuse to be defeated by these students. Frustrated, yes; beaten, no.

So, now I’ve met all my students. I have two first-year classes, a second-year class, and four hours a week in the primary school. In general, they’re all (mostly) beginners. This is good because it makes it easier to determine where to start. It’s bad because nie mowi du o po polsku. Musz mowi troche po polsku bo moja clasa nie rozumie duzo angelskiego. Mysle, ze jest najlepsz ze ja mowi tylko po angelsku, albo bede mowic po polsku czasami. It could be good for me because I will have to learn a bit of new Polish vocabulary to cover the time until I can speak tylko English. Tam bedzie dobry dzien!

First First Day

Monday 02 September 1996 | 0 Comments

The first day of school is now behind me. Nothing much happened: introductions, a brief speech from the headmaster, then the mayor -- nothing to speak of.

A minor tragedy happened while someone was speaking: a girl fainted. She was standing behind a crowd of people. She slipped forward through everyone, falling limp in the floor. Her head hit the hardwood floor with a thump that had a sickening echo. Several male teachers rushed to her. She came to and was taken from the room. I don’t know what else happened to her–I didn’t see whether she returned.

I finally received some kind of schedule, but it is still not finalized, for against my better judgment, I picked up four more hours (at the primary school). So I have twenty-two hours in four days, for I did manage to get Friday off.

I’ve mixed feelings about this: On one hand, eighteen hours is the minimum a teacher can have and I felt a little guilty having so few in comparison to Danuta. Yet my inexperience makes me understandably anxious about it. I want to do a good job, and if I am spread too thin . . .

Of course that is not the only thing: I will be teaching first year students. This will have its advantages and its problems. For one thing, my work is cut out for me. I know exactly what I must teach them. Yet communication will be tough at first owing to my virtually non-existent Polish. I remember my frustration in Polish class when the teachers would not speak any English (some, anyway). Now it will not be a question of willingness, but ability.

Practicum

Monday 05 August 1996 | 0 Comments

This is the last week of practicum – I am in a way glad. It’s so difficult, especially with all this class splitting and teaching of other classes. Just when we got used to our own classes we were teaching them half as often. It worries me though: I’ll be teaching more each week (eighteen hours versus six). Yet I will not have tech and language sessions every day. I’ll have more domestic work to do, as well. I know I’ll survive – somehow. I’m just a little worried about coming up with lessons every day. I have such a hard time with that for some reason.

Training Woes

Wednesday 17 July 1996 | 0 Comments

Another tech session, another endurance test. I cannot understand why we do such things. It is such an incredible waste of time – it could be used in so much more effective ways. But of course I really shouldn’t complain. Still, time spent working on lesson plans and/or our syllabi would be much better. This is especially true now that we’re both teacher and learner – we have so much stuff to do that ends up being done at home. So we end up being at school nine hours a day and then we go home and do homework and lesson planning.

One interesting thing about Polish students of English and the future tense: One way to form the future tense is “will” (future tense of by ) plus past tense. So a literal translation will produce “I will went.” They are simply applying a Polish grammatical structure on English, just as we must often do the same in reverse.

An obvious observation: There is not an action which cannot be described in words. The writer’s job is to find those elusive words.

I must teach two lessons tomorrow and though I am hesitant to do it, I am doing a final lesson on past progressive and simple past. I will be using a modified textbook activity which I think will really help to clear up any lingering misunderstandings. I’ll also be doing a lesson on modals.

We had TEFL session today on teaching with music and the final two pieces were Carmina Burana and the second movement to Górecki’s Symphony No. 3. The presenter seemed somewhat impressed that I recognized the pieces and floored when I mentioned that I have four Górecki CDs (I have five but I forgot about one). It was a triumphal moment to name those tunes in class . . .

Teaching and Doubts

Friday 01 September 1995 | 0 Comments

Now, after four years of training and preparation, I am doubting my desire to teach. Today was the most brutal day I have ever endured. I cannot imagine doing anything other than teaching, yet right now I cannot imagine ever surviving teaching.

Today I taught a class of freshman that almost drove me to a point of frustration that I have never before experienced. It was ineffably chaotic. There was absolutely no respect in the room. I went in with an open mind; I went in expecting bright students who were merely chronically unmotivated. Instead I found children with whom I had to consciously restrain myself from screaming “You are the dumbest bunch of people I have ever encountered!” I was so frustrated, and that frustration led to incredible anger. Yet I had no where to direct that agonizing exasperation. I couldn’t hold it against the kids that they had never been in an environment in which learning was admired. I couldn’t blame then for merely continuing the cycle set forth by ignorant parents. I couldn’t blame them for any of it, yet there they were, begging for attention in their own ways, and all I could muster was a desire to physically harm them.

There have been times in the honors freshman class that I felt as if I was about to lose control, as if the kids were going to manipulate me so that they ended up running the class. Such was the case in third period. They knew exactly what they were doing; they knew that they could drive me crazy. And I let them. I simply ran out of ways to explain things, ran out of ways to try to grab their attention. And most obviously I simply ran out of patience. There came a point at which I didn’t have any idea what to do — and they kept on going.

What made it so doubly frustrating is the fact that I was trying and they were not. Well, they were not trying to learn, that is. They succeeded in their efforts; I failed in mine. All I ask is that they try. While we were going over “The Invalid’s Story” (I certainly wasn’t teaching it), they kept saying “It’s stupid because it makes no sense.” Yet they didn’t try to understand it. They read it; they didn’t understand it; they closed their minds to it. I don’t think they wanted to understand it either. They just did not care and I was trying desperately to care; I failed in that too, for I finally threw my arms up and said, “Screw it!” At that moment I lost all credibility with them. I will never be able to win their respect; they won.

Such language as “they won” points out that which is obvious about education: it’s a game. Students try to wear down the teacher’s patience while the teachers try to wear down the student’s ignorance and lack of understanding. The only problem is that right now they have more experience playing their role than I have with mine.

I was trying so hard not to be an authoritarian about keeping class order, yet they were dictatorial in their attempts to inflict chaos and confusion on the whole class. I found myself wondering if things would have been different if I had had them from the beginning of the year. I had ninety minutes to establish a presence; that must certainly be too little time, for anyone, much less an inexperienced student teaching. If I could have had an opportunity to foster mutual respect from the beginning of the term then things would be significantly different. I didn’t want to yell and scream; I didn’t want to force them to stay in their seats. Yet their lack of discipline demanded nothing less.

What made the situation seem almost helpless and hopeless was the fact that there was nothing I could do about it. There is no form of immediate discipline that I could think of which was ethical. The only response I could devise would be infliction of physical pain. Yet what would that accomplish? I couldn’t give them detention because making them stay after school would only make them hate school even worse; it would serve only to make my job even more difficult.

Almost inevitably I took out my frustrations on fourth period. I gave them a quiz on “The Invalid’s Story” and it was so difficult to work out with the students an adequate way of off-setting the quiz’s ambiguity and difficulty that I just told them to forget it. “I’ll just give you all full credit and be done with it.” Yet their lively spirit eventually brought me around, and their eagerness to understand what we were going over was gratifying — I smiled.

Yet the day was not over. Not even close. During the last ten minutes of class — time I needed desperately — there was a fire drill.* So I fell even further behind schedule which means to catch up I have to assign more homework.

Of course all of this calls into question whether I can survive being a teacher. I felt so inadequate and ineffective today. And yet after a soothing bowl from my new brier and some time to fume and reflect, I feel much better. I am almost willing to give it another shot. What holds me back is a fear that tomorrow (or Tuesday in this case) will only bring more of the same. I wonder how anyone can endure this emotional boxing match for year after year. Mr. DePriest is entering his thirtieth year of teaching. Thirty years! That’s about 5,400 days. I find myself in awe that he has endured that long, for I am certainly wondering if I can survive a mere nine weeks. Or look at Doc Maples (whom the school gave a 70th birthday “bash”) who has probably been teaching at least twice as long as I’ve been living.

And what about the Peace Corps? If I can’t handle this then I certainly could not handle such a daunting adventure. If I can’t do any better than what I’ve done today then I might as well call Dot Kelly right now and tell her, “I’m out!” I know I’m bigger than that; I know I can accomplish these things; I know I can teach. I’m just having a little trouble believing it right now.