I'm sure all teachers probably get the jitters when they're officially being paid for their first jobs, and I'm sure all teachers probably wonder what they've gotten themselves into when they face that first group of rowdy children that refuse to listen to them on the first day of class. I'm sure most ESL teachers working abroad have a hard time getting their students to focus in those first lessons because they themselves are considered an exotic oddity to these young people that surround them: the Native English speaker. I'm sure it's normal to come home on your first Friday night after your first week of teaching and wonder if maybe you hadn't made a mistake in choosing this particular profession...
It is normal, right?
Monday was my first official day at work, and it went well in spite of a few last minute changes to my schedule and having no bloody clue what I was supposed to do if my students burned through the activities I had planned before the time was up. The vast majority of my classes are 90 minutes in length--before this I was only ever responsible for 60 minute classes, and the extra half hour will definitely take some getting used to.
Throughout the week I found that my enjoyment of teaching English varied with the maturity level of the students. The younger my students were, the less likely they were to want to play language games, or speak English in spite of English College's policy that the students not use Polish in the classroom. I understand that they're just kids, and they're coming back from a long break during which English was an afterthought. I also understand that the younger students may find someone who doesn't speak their language at all to be a strange concept. Their homeland isn't a place where everyone is descended from immigrants in one way or another. I on the other hand, have spent my entire life around people who had to learn English the hard way--and even encountered a few who didn't speak the tongue at all. When I was the age some of these kids are, these people seemed mysterious to me and I always wondered what sort of stories they could tell if they had the time.
Funny, that. Now I'm the curiosity, but only the older students ask for my story. The rest only see themselves stuck in another classroom after being at school all day--and the majority aren't very fond of school to begin with.
Friday was the most brutal day of them all. After an exhausting week of repeating "getting to know you" activities of varying degrees of difficulty with all of my students from Monday to Thursday, I got to play with a lively group of five and six year olds who understood enough to play "Simon Says," do the "Hokey Pokey," and play a game that involved saying a colour when the ball was thrown to them...and they're attention span gave out 40 minutes into a 60 minute lesson. I'm not sure what happened after that: my Polish is far more limited than the English spoken by these children. As far as I can guess, the game they started playing pitted boys against girls (myself included as the flying balls can attest) in an attempt to touch the ball to the other team's rug whilst shouting the random English words they knew as they threw the ball.
After that I had a class of seven year olds that learned how to play "Go Fish" and exercised their prowess at using the question "Do you have...?" and working on their numbers. It was also a learning experience for me the first time I heard one of these children say "do you have an ass?" I was shocked until an exchange of cards illustrated to me that "As" is the Polish word for "Ace."
Then were the 10 year olds who got a little too crazy while playing a game that involved throwing a ball and giving a sentence that begins with "I like" when you catch it. After one of the cleaning ladies came in and said something to me in Polish (the only word I could make out was "angielski") I managed to quiet them down with a game of Uno--which I have discovered a majority of my students know and love.
I had thirteen year olds who thoroughly enjoyed "2 truths and 3 lies," then spent the rest of the class playing Uno and asking questions about Canada. After that was a pair of older teens who were preparing for an oral exam in English that students are required to take on leaving high school. The class was mostly spent getting to know each other and playing "Go Fish" and "War," which both girls thoroughly enjoyed.
The last hour of my Friday was spent with a 2 year old, a 4 year old, and their Dad. The only expectation was that I play with them and expose them to English at their mother's request. I think they tested their father's patience more than they tested mine. It turns out "Peekaboo" can be profitably turned into a game that entertains toddlers and gets them (or at least the 4 year old) to use a little English at the same time.
Last night we hung out with Kris and Ginny (not their real names) and went out on the town a little to experience more of Radom's night life. We got home in the small hours of morning, and as I fell asleep I realized that I had gotten cold feet about going back to work on Monday. When I explained this to Sarah she just laughed and said she would gladly trade for her groups of 5 year olds that would rather scream every time she opened her mouth than try to play English games, or try to hide under the tables and in the closets rather than engage in activities. She also made a point of mentioning that I should understand children at least a little considering I've put up with her for four years.
Maybe this would be easier if I could remember some of the things I thought and felt as a kid, before all of our lives went sideways. One of my greatest fears as a teacher is one day having to guide that one child who finds theirself in the exact same position I was in.
Maybe these are just growing pains that will go away as we all adjust to this new routine.
I certainly hope so.
If Karen Densky is reading this blog at all, she is probably laughing. While I was doing my practicum for the TESL program I absolutely loathed the reflective journal assignments because I had made it one of my life's missions to avoid introspection--and thereby avoid touching upon any subject that would bring up painful memories or otherwise rouse other monsters in that Pandora's Box otherwise known as the human psyche.
I didn't realize until half of this entry was written that I started doing it without even being aware that it was a journal that I have been writing this whole time.
A journal about learning and exploring all aspects of my journey as a teacher and a human being, not just this new country that has become my temporary home.
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