BetweenOneJune

A Little Move in the Right Direction

2009-06-04T20:35:00.000-07:00

Well, as of a couple of weeks ago, I officially have a job at International House Language School in Prague, Czech Republic. I will be teaching English (ESL) to a mixture of students: business professionals, young children, teenagers, and adults. Pretty much everyone, I guess. I fly out at the end of September and start teaching the very first of October.

I know it sounds like a big decision, and I guess it was at some point, but honestly it seems like everything has fallen into place so smoothly ...so...naturally...that I feel freaked out that it is this easy. Shouldn't big decisions be tougher? Of course I spent time stressing out about it (if something isn't hard to begin with, I feel obligated to make it hard). But in the end, it's something I'm quite excited about, underneath the nerves.

And, although I miss New York a lot and would really like to be there this summer, I have decided to stay in Atlanta for the next four months. On Saturday I'm moving into a small room I'm renting from a friend, and I'm pretty excited about this. It's close to the city, and I feel like I'll be able to grow a few roots in Atlanta: find a favorite coffee shop, a park, a bookstore, a church.

The Lovely City

2009-03-06T13:50:00.000-08:00

Well, I do believe I love New York. I don't know why I didn't feel this way the first few times I visited; I remember feeling overwhelmed and thinking that it was exciting, but loud and dim and kind of grimy. I felt claustrophobic, like I couldn't see the sky because of the buildings. Now all I see is the incredible awareness and sense of culture, respect for learning and ideas, the refreshing lack of chain stores, and a multitude of tiny, independently owned coffee shops, bookshops, and clothing stores (I don't really know if they're independently owned. But at least they're independent...or individual. There's the word). Northerners have a completely different concept of space: what would be a large closet for people in the South is an apartment for New York. A room that can barely hold five people is a coffee shop. Nothing is wasted!

Yesterday I got out of class early and went to a nearby Barnes and Noble. In the New York section I found a book called "Places to Find Peace and Quiet in New York." I should have bought it, but I'm a terrible cheapskate, so I just looked through it and wrote down the addresses of places I want to visit. The Poets' House...which apparently is one of the largest collections of poetry that's open to the public in the country. A used bookstore in Tribeca where (I think) the profits are donated to charity. And so on. I'm so excited to be here.

It's a challenge too. So many different kinds of people, so many different thoughts and worldviews and cultures, but it's a good challenge. I feel very strongly that I'm in the right place, and I feel privileged.

Time Flies Pretty Slowly Around Here

2008-12-03T17:29:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the last day of class for my Tuesday/Thursday classes. I've been looking forward to this day, I still am looking forward to it, I'm excited for class to end, I'm relieved (more than I can say), I feel a little sick to my stomach (have I taught them enough? Are they ready? Has any of this made sense?), I feel nervous, and tired, and sad, and mostly just....well, that's mostly it.

In class yesterday, as I was writing on the board, giving some directions about the final, one of my students said, "Wow...it's the end of the semester already? The time has gone by so fast." My first thought was, "What the heck are you smoking? This semester feels like it has lasted ten years." Upon reflection, though, I can almost agree in some ways. Some ways. This has been the hardest thing I have ever done. To get up and walk into those classes everyday. I don't know if it was supposed to be that way; I didn't think it would be. I thought it would be one of the best experiences, not one of the hardest.

For those of you who have such questions on the tip of your tongue--No, I don't know what I'm doing next semester. Oh yes, I have ideas (don't I always have ideas?). The first idea is to go to NY for a month to get certified to teach English overseas. The big city in the frosty depths of winter--I'm excited. This will probably take place in January or February. Next, I'll be waiting to hear about a five month internship that would take me overseas (destination--unspecified); I applied for it in June, but apparently participants may not hear until thirty days before the internship is scheduled to start. Which just makes life interesting, I think. Of course, there are more possibilities.

But right now my possibilities are going to center on answering a student's email. And another student's email. And finishing grading. Oh yes, and choosing that final (which, I must say, I'm a little excited about).

A Voice for the Voiceless

2008-11-21T13:46:00.000-08:00

The inevitable teacher's sickness has befallen me. Sore throat, sneezing, and a hoarse, gravelly voice. My two classes today went pretty well (at least, the first class went pretty well. The last class seemed bitter about having to be in class at all and displayed no enthusiasm until I announced that I was giving them an extension on their paper. Have I lost this class? I have reason to think so, and I'm not sure how to handle it), but my voice got progressively weaker and weaker. In each student conference it deteriorated a little more, and by the last conference I could speak in little more than a whisper. The student kept looking at me wide-eyed, with a mixed expression of fear (is she going to infect me?) and concern (at least, I'd like to think so).

I will say, though, that it (the sickness) makes me feel like a "real" teacher. There's something about pushing your body to the point where it starts to break down a bit and then keeping going that is fulfilling, somehow. As though I were a little soldier on the war against sloppy writing, the one who's dragging a broken leg but still holding a tourniquet around someone's artery or still hoisting the flag. Except it's more like I'm dragging a really bad papercut. Well, still. It makes you feel that you are working hard. I can't explain it; it's somehow invigorating...maybe that makes me sound a little crazy, but it's true. There's something about pushing the limits and keeping on.

In retrospect, today was a good day. The lesson went well during the first class (I'm learning how to point stuff out to them specifically...it's not the greatest way of teaching, but at least they seemed interested). During the second class they literally all had expressions of resentment (except for maybe four). Plus there was about half the normal attendance at these classes. Are people going on break already?

So the morning was spent busily prepping for class and marking papers, then class, and then after class student conferences. Those went well too--I really like being able to do the one-on-one.

Between conferences, I slipped out to get a cup of coffee. As I was standing in line at Java City, browsing through The Johnsonian, I realized I was standing behind someone I knew: Professor Dave Brown. A professional illustrator who now teaches at Winthrop, he was the faculty sponsor of a group I used to belong to and the favorite professor of some of my close friends. I said hello, he remembered me, and we started talking, and then he said, "So do you have a few minutes?" And we sat outside of Java City and talked! It was just a quick twenty minutes, but in that time we talked about teaching, how different it is to actually do something (like write or draw) and then try to teach it (the disparity that has been the bane of my life these past few months), my plans for the future, C.S. Lewis, and Seamus Heaney (one of my favorite poets).

I can't tell you how encouraging this quick little jewel of time was for me. I feel a little unworthy of it, almost; simply because there are so many ways that I, as a teacher, have fallen short.

It's getting dark outside (my window that faces the wall), and I think I may go home, curl up, and drink lots of hot tea (which I have been told to do by several people today already--students and teachers. Somehow seeing a sick person brings out the advice-giving tendencies people have).

It feels strange to have a new blog; I will miss Xanga a lot. Hopefully we can still preserve our electronic community despite the "dispersion" (I'll link your blog to mine). It feels strange, but...also, a good sort of strange. I have hope for this blog.