I will be the first to say that Disney (and a few choice non-Disney cartoons) corrupted me as a child. It just did not corrupt me in the ways that you might think. Yes, during the last few years I have mixed copious amounts of wine and Disney and in doing so have had some of the most fun experiences of my life (I’m pretty tame, if you haven’t figured that out). But in all seriousness, Disney taught me important life lessons, some of which I have only recently begun to understand.
The women of Disney taught me how to think for myself. They instilled a deep-seated need to want and to expect more out of life, while telling me that I would only be able to fulfill these expectations by going out and creating my own adventures.
Perhaps the earlier princesses waited around for their princes to come sweep them off their feet, but the women who were my first role models—Jasmine, Megara, Ariel, and especially Belle, Pocahontas, Mulan, and Esmeralda, and non-Disney heroines like Kayley, Anastasia, and Odette—fought for what they wanted; never mind that a few of them “sold their souls” in the process.
These women taught me how to dream. To this day I say that I want to be a princess; as a child, it absolutely never occurred to me that princesses were only princesses and nothing more. My childhood dream was to be a princess…and a dentist; a princess…and a hair stylist; a princess…and an archaeologist; a princess...and an OB-GYN. I learned from an early age that anything was possible and that the world was my oyster, and if I wanted to go just around the riverbend, then so be it!
These heroines were not just princesses. Ariel was an actress and a singer. Megara was a damsel in distress, but she could handle it. Odette was transformed into a swan and held captive in an enchanted lake, but managed to orchestrate her own escape with the help of her clever frog, turtle, and puffin friends. Esmeralda, besides being a beautiful gypsy temptress, was a respected leader in her community and was probably the most self-reliant and sexualized woman my five year old brain had ever encountered by then. Anastasia was a street-wise ruffian who wanted nothing more than to know her past so she could realize her future. Pocahontas, Kayley, and Mulan were adventurers, setting their own rules, fighting for what they believed in and for the forces of good; Kayley and Mulan were both knighted at the end! And Belle. Belle was my idol, the woman I wanted to be (I still want her library). Belle taught me that reading did not make a person strange; if anything, reading could help you find your prince, your best friends, and your adventures by expanding your horizons and enabling you to realize that everyone and everything has a story, you just have to delve deep to find and understand it.
Even the women who were not as well-developed character-wise were able to see beyond themselves and take in the bigger picture. Encumbered by family values and social, cultural, and gender-related restraints, they proved how powerful women can be. They knew that the world beyond their line of sight held more potential than they could ever imagine, and they took it upon themselves to reach as high and as far as they could, and then reach a little bit further.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Creature of Habit
I love being a regular, and I hate change. If you know anything about me and my perennially-nomadic nature, you will understand why this is probably one of my weirder statements. But both parts of the statement are truer than anything I may ever say in the past or future.
I cry every time I have to change an e-mail address or phone number (I still haven't learned my new home phone number in the US), every time I get on a bus or train or plane to leave one place for another, every time I have to say goodbye to another close friend who is embarking on their own far-off adventure (or if I am leaving for one of my own).
Even if only by face and not by name, I love knowing people at a restaurant, grocery store, or bar, and having them recognize me. The seeds of this love were most likely planted upon living in the same place for eighteen years and going to the same grocery store and synagogue every few days, where even if people did not know my name and I did not necessarily know theirs, we still had that connection of familiarity to one another.
Everywhere I have lived since then, I have been a regular somewhere. During my first year in Montreal, I was a regular at one on-campus lunch venue, thanks to my meal plan and lack of kitchen. I, along with a few friends, became a Tuesday regular at Frostbite, the small ice cream parlor in the Engineering building at McGill, but also went whenever ice cream was necessary in my life. For the rest of my tenure in the area I was a regular at Quatre Freres, a 24-hour grocery store, which I visited at all times of day and night, and at Pizza Madona, a tiny poutine and pizza place five minutes away from my apartment. I still visit both places whenever I am in Montreal. Every time I return to Pizza Madona after being away for a substantial period of time, the owner asks where I have been, and we chat for a few minutes.
In Ramla I was a regular at a shawarma restaurant. They knew my exact order (minus the toppings, which I would change frequently). There I knew who would be the most friendly at what time, and who would joke around with me, and who would brush me off as someone not worth their time, and it was magical. In Ganey Aviv, there was one supermarket I would go to during and after school. The woman at the cheese counter knew not to speak Russian to me, and I was forever grateful.
One of my favorite moments in Philadelphia occurred last summer (potentially during Passover instead--I forget the exact details, but it was most likely summer). I had turned 21 a few months prior while still in Montreal, and I went to a pizza/cheesesteak hole-in-the-wall that I enjoy. I decided to buy my first legal drink in the US while there. After selecting the most interesting-looking beer, I brought it to the register. A man I did not recognize was there (a few of the others knew me as "the girl who comes in asking for cheese fries with gravy"), and he asked me for identification, which I had with me and willingly provided. One of the guys who did know me was behind him in the kitchen and said something along the lines of, "What are you doing? We know this girl. Let it go." It still makes me wonder how long I could have been buying beer there before being legal.
Philadelphia also has one grocery store by my house where there is again the priceless name-anonymity factor, but the cashiers are the sweetest women and there are consistent smiles all-around.
Here in Taichung I am a regular at the grocery store, because they have fruit and pre-made meals, and I don't have a real kitchen. I keep realizing that all of the restaurants have better food and prices than the grocery store, and have therefore been branching out a lot recently. I have decided to become a regular at the hibachi place I went to at the end of my first week of school. I can get a scrumptious beef hibachi meal with endless soup and tea for $110NT (~$4 USD), and the meal itself I can easily split into two or three parts--it doesn't seem this way, but it is a lot of food. Plus the people are great, and I can go there to read or work, and drink my soup, and not worry about anything.
I love being a regular, and I hate change. But change doesn't have to mean loss, only new beginnings. (Oh god, that was far too cheesy. But it stays.)
I cry every time I have to change an e-mail address or phone number (I still haven't learned my new home phone number in the US), every time I get on a bus or train or plane to leave one place for another, every time I have to say goodbye to another close friend who is embarking on their own far-off adventure (or if I am leaving for one of my own).
Even if only by face and not by name, I love knowing people at a restaurant, grocery store, or bar, and having them recognize me. The seeds of this love were most likely planted upon living in the same place for eighteen years and going to the same grocery store and synagogue every few days, where even if people did not know my name and I did not necessarily know theirs, we still had that connection of familiarity to one another.
Everywhere I have lived since then, I have been a regular somewhere. During my first year in Montreal, I was a regular at one on-campus lunch venue, thanks to my meal plan and lack of kitchen. I, along with a few friends, became a Tuesday regular at Frostbite, the small ice cream parlor in the Engineering building at McGill, but also went whenever ice cream was necessary in my life. For the rest of my tenure in the area I was a regular at Quatre Freres, a 24-hour grocery store, which I visited at all times of day and night, and at Pizza Madona, a tiny poutine and pizza place five minutes away from my apartment. I still visit both places whenever I am in Montreal. Every time I return to Pizza Madona after being away for a substantial period of time, the owner asks where I have been, and we chat for a few minutes.
In Ramla I was a regular at a shawarma restaurant. They knew my exact order (minus the toppings, which I would change frequently). There I knew who would be the most friendly at what time, and who would joke around with me, and who would brush me off as someone not worth their time, and it was magical. In Ganey Aviv, there was one supermarket I would go to during and after school. The woman at the cheese counter knew not to speak Russian to me, and I was forever grateful.
One of my favorite moments in Philadelphia occurred last summer (potentially during Passover instead--I forget the exact details, but it was most likely summer). I had turned 21 a few months prior while still in Montreal, and I went to a pizza/cheesesteak hole-in-the-wall that I enjoy. I decided to buy my first legal drink in the US while there. After selecting the most interesting-looking beer, I brought it to the register. A man I did not recognize was there (a few of the others knew me as "the girl who comes in asking for cheese fries with gravy"), and he asked me for identification, which I had with me and willingly provided. One of the guys who did know me was behind him in the kitchen and said something along the lines of, "What are you doing? We know this girl. Let it go." It still makes me wonder how long I could have been buying beer there before being legal.
Philadelphia also has one grocery store by my house where there is again the priceless name-anonymity factor, but the cashiers are the sweetest women and there are consistent smiles all-around.
Here in Taichung I am a regular at the grocery store, because they have fruit and pre-made meals, and I don't have a real kitchen. I keep realizing that all of the restaurants have better food and prices than the grocery store, and have therefore been branching out a lot recently. I have decided to become a regular at the hibachi place I went to at the end of my first week of school. I can get a scrumptious beef hibachi meal with endless soup and tea for $110NT (~$4 USD), and the meal itself I can easily split into two or three parts--it doesn't seem this way, but it is a lot of food. Plus the people are great, and I can go there to read or work, and drink my soup, and not worry about anything.
I love being a regular, and I hate change. But change doesn't have to mean loss, only new beginnings. (Oh god, that was far too cheesy. But it stays.)
Thursday, September 19, 2013
The Last Twelve Days, and Moon Festival!
Saturday, September 7th, 2013 to Thursday, September 19th, 2013
Warning: This post is mostly about food and complaining. My experience here has been mostly positive so far, and I love what I do, but sometimes writing things out makes me feel less bitchy and overwhelmed.
========================================================================
On Saturday I had the food-going experience of picking pieces of sushi off of a conveyor belt at my whim and not caring about the price or what I was eating (I have no idea about a few of the choices of fish I made), only that I was enjoying myself and trying new things.I’m sure I looked gluttonous and strange with my wide array of plated sushi and my JK Rowling-style method of writing (yellow paper menu and the pen provided to mark it), but does anyone really care?
Interesting sushi tested: Corn with sweet mayo, a “fish” which may have been bacon (although they also had bacon sushi, so maybe this was just delicious smoked fish), and what turned out to be just a ball of rice wrapped in a sweet, soft, honey/maple dough.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Monday after school I went to a restaurant with the best dumplings I’ve ever had. I tried three types, and my favorite was filled with “Chinese Chives”—chicken and chives and everything good, packed into the softest, steamiest dumpling casing. I almost went back to get more, but then remembered I had the rest of my dinner to contend with for the remainder of the night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh god, Tuesday involved getting a health check. That was my task for this morning, and it was a lot easier than it had to be, but it was still such a hassle. I can still feel the needle-mark in the crook of my arm—I wish they hadn’t used my right arm, but I guess using the dominant arm is important; my veins are ridiculously tiny in both arms so it doesn’t really matter. Oh, and in the ultimate baby move, I definitely gave a little yelp when poked with the needle. Part of the check involved a chest x-ray, which meant I was asked at least five times if I was pregnant, just as a precautionary measure. Fun! My first response was “Oh god, no!” Pretty much sums up my stance on children (for those of you who are unaware, I love children when I can give them back at the end of the day). My students and my campers are “my kids”, and I am so happy with that fact.
On Tuesday I also realized that I probably need to pass over the “draw your class” sections of the workbooks for my Starter A classes, because I have now seen at least three anatomically correct drawings of myself from my 7-9 year old students and would rather they not continue.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Wednesday I got my own desk,w hich was exciting. However, I was also ordered (strong language, I know, but it was delivered that way) to spend more time in the lobby when marking books and writing my lesson plans in order to interact more with the students. This should be fine, an IS fine, but when I am doing work like that I prefer to be alone, or with a few quiet people, rather than in a room full of children running around and yelling. There is a time and a place for being boisterous, and I would rather not mix that with the "work" part of my job (writing that out showed me that I don't consider teaching to be "work", because teaching is the fun part, and constructive/organized chaos has the ability to work well in a classroom setting).
A big reason for working in the lobby was stated outright--to put the foreign teachers on display. The better reason provided was to give the students more opportunities to practice their English and to know their teachers and for us to better know them. I know I should not resent this as much as I do right now (which will definitely change, since working at my desk in the office is quite nice--Note: I am typing this out a week later, and now see this as a positive change), but I would prefer to mark tests and worksheets in my classroom, where I have easy access to all of my and my students' books, tests, and papers. I am sure that I resent it in part because it gives me very little time to decompress before and after classes, since I already participate in student pick-up and lunch hour in the morning, and in parent pick-up at least twice per week (all of which I love even though they are so awkward, but wonderfully so because they are rife with smiles), and that in time it will prove to be better than being alone in an empty classroom, dancing to music while performing my teacherly duties.
I heard a knock on my door on Wednesday night, only to find my landlord and next door neighbor in the doorway. My landlord immediately handed me a Moon Cake and a package of “12 grains crispy roll”. She and my neighbor made sure I was doing alright in the apartment and at work; it was one of the sweetest encounters from semi-strangers that I have ever had.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of that week was fine. I didn't sleep much because I didn't feel like it. Over the next few days I took a few buses and explored different parts of the city, which was fun. I found an Outback Steakhouse and a Coldstone (and the day I found that Coldstone, a cookies and cream milkshake cured all of my emotional issues and silliness). We had a nine-day workweek, broken up by a one-day weekend, because of Moon Festival, but now we have four days off for Moon Festival, and it has been refreshing thus far. Oh--at one point this week I was referred to as "mean" at least twice by two different teachers. Victory! Also on Wednesday we went to the park by school, and I got to play tag with my students. SO MUCH FUN. I must make sure to get through all of my lessons' content by Friday at 3pm so that we can go to the park every week. The best.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moon Festival!
Moon Festival, or Mid-Autumn Festival, fell on Thursday, September 19th, 2013 this year.
Warning: This post is mostly about food and complaining. My experience here has been mostly positive so far, and I love what I do, but sometimes writing things out makes me feel less bitchy and overwhelmed.
========================================================================
On Saturday I had the food-going experience of picking pieces of sushi off of a conveyor belt at my whim and not caring about the price or what I was eating (I have no idea about a few of the choices of fish I made), only that I was enjoying myself and trying new things.I’m sure I looked gluttonous and strange with my wide array of plated sushi and my JK Rowling-style method of writing (yellow paper menu and the pen provided to mark it), but does anyone really care?
Interesting sushi tested: Corn with sweet mayo, a “fish” which may have been bacon (although they also had bacon sushi, so maybe this was just delicious smoked fish), and what turned out to be just a ball of rice wrapped in a sweet, soft, honey/maple dough.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Monday after school I went to a restaurant with the best dumplings I’ve ever had. I tried three types, and my favorite was filled with “Chinese Chives”—chicken and chives and everything good, packed into the softest, steamiest dumpling casing. I almost went back to get more, but then remembered I had the rest of my dinner to contend with for the remainder of the night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh god, Tuesday involved getting a health check. That was my task for this morning, and it was a lot easier than it had to be, but it was still such a hassle. I can still feel the needle-mark in the crook of my arm—I wish they hadn’t used my right arm, but I guess using the dominant arm is important; my veins are ridiculously tiny in both arms so it doesn’t really matter. Oh, and in the ultimate baby move, I definitely gave a little yelp when poked with the needle. Part of the check involved a chest x-ray, which meant I was asked at least five times if I was pregnant, just as a precautionary measure. Fun! My first response was “Oh god, no!” Pretty much sums up my stance on children (for those of you who are unaware, I love children when I can give them back at the end of the day). My students and my campers are “my kids”, and I am so happy with that fact.
On Tuesday I also realized that I probably need to pass over the “draw your class” sections of the workbooks for my Starter A classes, because I have now seen at least three anatomically correct drawings of myself from my 7-9 year old students and would rather they not continue.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Wednesday I got my own desk,w hich was exciting. However, I was also ordered (strong language, I know, but it was delivered that way) to spend more time in the lobby when marking books and writing my lesson plans in order to interact more with the students. This should be fine, an IS fine, but when I am doing work like that I prefer to be alone, or with a few quiet people, rather than in a room full of children running around and yelling. There is a time and a place for being boisterous, and I would rather not mix that with the "work" part of my job (writing that out showed me that I don't consider teaching to be "work", because teaching is the fun part, and constructive/organized chaos has the ability to work well in a classroom setting).
A big reason for working in the lobby was stated outright--to put the foreign teachers on display. The better reason provided was to give the students more opportunities to practice their English and to know their teachers and for us to better know them. I know I should not resent this as much as I do right now (which will definitely change, since working at my desk in the office is quite nice--Note: I am typing this out a week later, and now see this as a positive change), but I would prefer to mark tests and worksheets in my classroom, where I have easy access to all of my and my students' books, tests, and papers. I am sure that I resent it in part because it gives me very little time to decompress before and after classes, since I already participate in student pick-up and lunch hour in the morning, and in parent pick-up at least twice per week (all of which I love even though they are so awkward, but wonderfully so because they are rife with smiles), and that in time it will prove to be better than being alone in an empty classroom, dancing to music while performing my teacherly duties.
I heard a knock on my door on Wednesday night, only to find my landlord and next door neighbor in the doorway. My landlord immediately handed me a Moon Cake and a package of “12 grains crispy roll”. She and my neighbor made sure I was doing alright in the apartment and at work; it was one of the sweetest encounters from semi-strangers that I have ever had.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of that week was fine. I didn't sleep much because I didn't feel like it. Over the next few days I took a few buses and explored different parts of the city, which was fun. I found an Outback Steakhouse and a Coldstone (and the day I found that Coldstone, a cookies and cream milkshake cured all of my emotional issues and silliness). We had a nine-day workweek, broken up by a one-day weekend, because of Moon Festival, but now we have four days off for Moon Festival, and it has been refreshing thus far. Oh--at one point this week I was referred to as "mean" at least twice by two different teachers. Victory! Also on Wednesday we went to the park by school, and I got to play tag with my students. SO MUCH FUN. I must make sure to get through all of my lessons' content by Friday at 3pm so that we can go to the park every week. The best.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moon Festival!
Moon Festival, or Mid-Autumn Festival, fell on Thursday, September 19th, 2013 this year.
What I have learned about Moon Festival so far:
1. Women power: Another culture with a feminine connection to the moon, which I love.
2. Chang'e either stole or was given the drink of immortality, depending on who is telling the story. She then flew to the moon and became the Moon Goddess.
3. There are lunar satellites named after Chang'e.
4. Chang'e has a rabbit companion.
5. Sailor Moon is named after that rabbit.
6. There IS a man in/on the moon, but he is there as punishment, and is doomed to attempt to chop down the magical cassia tree for all eternity.
7. Mooncakes and pomelos, two traditional Moon Festival foods, are delicious. Also, mooncakes were used to establish the Ming Dynasty, and in Vietnam, pomelo pieces may be shaped into unicorns.
8. It is a courtship holiday. Ignoring that.
9. This exists: http://www.southstreet-themusical.com
10. Buzz Aldrin said he would keep an eye out for Chang'e when he went to the moon in 1969.
10. Buzz Aldrin said he would keep an eye out for Chang'e when he went to the moon in 1969.
My experience with Moon Festival so far: Tonight i walked around my neighborhood eating meat, fish (which I originally thought was tofu and which I don't really enjoy, whoops), and veggies on a stick, drinking peach juice, and moon-gazing.
Signing off with these two wonderful moon-related videos:
1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrb4K3-DJQE
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwQ_eyLLIKE
Signing off with these two wonderful moon-related videos:
1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrb4K3-DJQE
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwQ_eyLLIKE
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
The Concept of Home
It occurs to me that from now on, wherever I go, no matter
what, I will always be a foreigner, out of place in one way or another. I thought about this frequently over the
summer when I essentially lived out of a backpack except for the times I was at
my “home base”—Philly. But Philly was only home base out of necessity, because
that is where my parents were and I had a place to leave my belongings for more
than a short term period, and I didn’t have to sign a contract, or pay rent, or
be clothed to live there. But I wasn’t comfortable (besides physically—that house
is awesome), because it was only home base, it wasn’t Home, regardless of ease
in saying “Oh, I’ll meet you at home.” It is a city I love and a city I miss,
but no more than other cities where I have lived.
Chesterbrook is* Home. Montreal is Home. Ramla is Home—I had a conversation with a friend one night where he said he wanted to go home, and I worriedly asked, “Ramla-home or [US city name withdrawn] home?” I forget the answer, but the question rings true even now. What defines home for you, and what defines Home? For me, home is where my passport is, and Home is where my loved ones and memories are, and where my life is (thereby contradicting my declaration that Philly is not Home, in a way). Even a place as simple and public as a train station (special shout-out to the Wynnewood and Elkins Park SEPTA stations) or a beach (here's to you, Gloucester and Lake Barcroft) can be a Home due to the emotional connection it holds.
*Note: Each "is" in these three sentences had originally been a "was", but then I remembered that Homes are forever.
It is not necessarily negative to constantly seem to be a foreigner, especially when I know in my heart that I belong wherever I happen to be. It means that people go out of their way to talk to me, to give me directions and advice, and to ask me for advice on moving to my current or past place of residence. People excuse my silliness, even when I am doing exactly what everyone else in a certain situation would do and just want to blend in and be part of the crowd. Hey, even in Israel people stared at me for looking different, and that is a country chock-full of Eastern European immigrants!
I realize that I tend to have one home at a time, but that my life is full of Homes, both past and present—places I have been, places I have lived, and places I still need to experience.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
ABC, Easy as...Wait, You Know I Don't Speak Mandarin, Right?
Last Thursday I met my next-door neighbor. She is 23 and very
sweet. We spoke in a Mandarin-English-sign language mix, and she tried to help
me contact the landlord so I could pay rent. Taking advantage of the refreshing
torrential downpour and having nowhere to be, I spent the rest of the day
(besides a trip to 7/11) relaxing, watching Netflix, and getting through my
Internet tabs. I've also been reading while listening to Vivaldi, which is such
a treat.
I'm pretty sure my landlords think I am nuts. I had not unpacked
yet, except for a few things scattered around the room, and still don't have
bedding, so the room looked like a mess, but also seemed generally sparse.
However, I did feel super-classy having Autumn from Vivaldi's Four Seasons
playing in the background. We exchanged e-mail addresses in order to use Google
Translate for future communication.
Over the weekend I bought a briefcase-sized gas stove, bringing
me one step closer to fulfilling my lifelong childhood dream of living in the
Murry house from Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quartet (of A Wrinkle in Time fame),
where the mother cooks with a Bunsen Burner in her in-home lab. I did have a fun experience going to the grocery store and asking for fire because I had left my apartment without writing down the word for lighter.
On Friday, what I assumed was classroom decorating time ended up
being lesson planning time, which was even better! I will be teaching two
Starter A classes (basically Kindergarten-level), and one 4A class. So psyched.
Also, guess what! I finally unpacked, using my own whimsical and unique form of
scattering my belongings everywhere.
The First
Week of School: A Play-by-Play
Sunday
-I have all of my lesson plans ready for Monday, and I find
that I am not too nervous for the formal beginning of my teaching career.
-I still stay up late and don’t get to school until around
11:15/11:20am on Monday morning, still well before my 11:30am start.
Monday
-I get to school (five-minute walk, fantastic) a few minutes
early after a mad dash to the grocery store to pick up something for lunch.
Upon getting to school, I discover that the lunch built into my contract is a
real thing, but I don’t take part in it (because by then I have already eaten).
-At 12pm I put on an awesome blue vest and go with one of
the other teachers to pick up the younger students from the castle-like
elementary school. They are adorable, and I almost immediately realize that,
although I am being incredibly awkward, I have made the right decision in
choice of profession and location.
-From about 12:30-2pm I refreshed myself on lesson plans,
and mentally prepared myself for my first day of classes. Apparently I was
supposed to eat lunch with the students, to talk with them, which makes sense, I
just wish I had been told before I missed the festivities. I have since spent
every lunch hour with the students, and it tends to be consistently awkward,
but I believe the students are warming up to me, and that feels great.
-At 2pm my first class began. It is a Starter A class, which
means the students are bare-bones beginners. Most know the alphabet and numbers
from one to ten, but nearly nothing else. They are good kids but don’t get too
wild on this first day.
-From 4-4:30pm I had a break to (mentally) prepare for my
next class.
-4:30pm saw the start of my second Starter A class. These
kids proved to be a lot more wild than my first class. One problem is that most
of the students are older, so they already knew the alphabet and numbers so
well, but I have three students who are even more bare-bones beginners than my
first Starter A class. This lesson had a bit of yelling, mostly for order.
Augh. Not my worst experience, though.
-At 6:10pm the director of the school came into my classroom
saying “The parents have been waiting for so long!” That class was supposed to end
at 6pm, but I had convinced myself that it ended at 6:30, and I have no idea
why. Oops.
-After class I tidied up, then prepared a few more lesson
plans, and then went downstairs to eat my dinner. Turns out I was supposed to wait
with the students during parent-pickup (another thing I wasn’t told until
after-the-fact, but it is okay) so that the parents can see their children
interacting with the English-language teachers and therefore practicing their
English. I only have to do it on the two days when I don’t have my third class.
-By then it was around 6:30pm, and I was exhausted and
raring to go home, but my contract hours are from 11:30am to 7:30pm, so back to
lesson plans I went! A little while after 7:30pm arrived, I punched out and
went on one of my many grocery store trips. Then I stayed up too late, but didn’t
have to be at school until 2:30pm the next day so it was fine.
Tuesday
-I came in at 2:30pm, had student pick-up at 3pm, and had my
first class (the second Starter A group) at 4:30. They were rambunctious again.
Crazy kids. Silly me, I had gone into this playing into Asian stereotypes and
thinking that my students would, for the most part, be quiet, polite, and
good-natured. Turns out kids are kids, and that is wonderful. It definitely
makes for an interesting experience. Pus I love busting stereotypes.
-At 6:10pm I met my third and final class. I had been warned
about this group, a 4A class, but they were fine, quiet and engaged, even. They
are all fairly good readers, writers, and speakers, and it is such a different
experience between teaching them and teaching my Starter A classes, but I enjoy
them all.
Wednesday
-This was my first three-class day. It was exhausting, but
in the nicest way.
-Today was the day that I realized my students have not yet figured out that I do not speak Mandarin, because they keep speaking quickly to me under the assumption that I understand. Sorry, kids.
Thursday and Friday
-I spent a large part of Thursday and Friday yelling
excitedly and miming words. My kids are unaware, but I am using a few signs from ASL to teach them how to meet and introduce people. The only problem I have had with that so far is that it was difficult to come up with a sign for "friends", because that sign is too similar to the sign used for "name", and I did not want to confuse them; the sign we ended up using is far too close to the sign for "f***" for my liking.
-I also initiated the point system on Thursday, which
led to a lot more student participation and made both of my Starter A classes a
lot more animated (and loud, but organized chaos is the best).
-By 7:40pm on
Friday night I was tired, hungry, and schooled-out (at least until Monday
morning). I stayed for a bit to finish marking papers and making copies, then
went out for a delicious hibachi meal with one of my co-workers, then came home
and settled in for the night.
-At one point on Thursday night I was given a small pineapple cake by a random man outside of a bakery where he presumably bought it. It was delicious, by the way.
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