Thursday, January 29, 2009

I should be a Creative Writing teacher...

apparently. At least that's what my students told me tonight.

I gave a lesson tonight on short story writing to my FCE (First Cambridge Exam) students, who were unthrilled (did I just invent that?...anti-thrilled? non-thrilled? hm...I don't think any of these exist...my English is truly going to shit as my Spanish improves) to say the least. This class is at 8:30pm every Thursday, and it's hard enough to get a coherent thought in English out of my students at that time, let alone a good writing sample for FCE preparation. I thought that by choosing the short story category (which is a possible topic for the FCE), I'd tap into some of their interests and get them more excited about it. Yeah, uhm...not so much. One student dawdled through the whole class and didn't even decide what he was going to write about, let alone finish.

At any rate, after the obligatory grunts and groans once they realized we'd be writing tonight, we looked at two examples of short stories written for the FCE and compared them, talking about what makes a good short story. They were kindof deer-in-headlights until I asked them to think about their favorite authors and books. I asked them to think about why they like to read them. What is it about these authors or books that's so great? Somehow, inadvertently, this clicked for them - probably because it related what we were doing in class to their personal interests. They were throwing ideas at me left and right, and I couldn't write on the white board fast enough. I then turned the conversation to the art of "copying;" I told the students that good writers learn to be good by "copying" their favorite writers. The students started thinking critically about what their favorite authors do that they find so interesting or enjoyable to read - realistic plots, interesting characters, thrilling twists and turns, unusual problems, vivid images, descriptive language...etc etc. I got the students to do pair work while generating ideas for their stories, giving one another guidance as to what their favorite authors would suggest. It worked like magic!

I came up with all of this completely off-the-cuff - my original intention was just to "milk" this one writing assignment into a full lesson, and lo and behold, my passion for creative writing came out, inspiring the students more than I thought possible - and completely unbeknownced to me! It's wonderful when these 'zen' moments happen. Tonight, when the student told me I should teach Creative Writing, I had a realization in the moment and was able to fully appreciate it while it was happening, and not just after the fact.

Anyway, not that I'm actually thinking of teaching Creative Writing, but it's nice to know that I don't actually have to be good at Creative Writing in order to teach it. It's like the whole "I'm not a writer but I know good writing when I see it" argument. Except that I do in fact write...just not short stories. But anyway anyway....

My job is inspiring. I want to scream it from the rooftops :)

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Teaching Lessons

It occurs to me now that I’ve never really talked about my student, “J” (full names are withheld to protect the innocent). But that’s really strange, because J is a really remarkable student. Firstly, J’s level of English is outstanding, probably the closest to fluency that I’ve ever found in a non-native English student. Secondly, the classes that we have together are anything but conventional - this could possibly be due to J’s level of English, which makes our one-to-one lessons together more like those I would have with native speakers, but I attribute most of this to J himself.

To tell you a bit about him, J is a fifteen-year old Granadino, born to relatively wealthy parents (both are doctors) who recently divorced, leaving J and his younger brother (also my student) to live with their father (interesting - that they live with their father). J and his brother are not typical Spaniards - they are well educated, as anyone would expect from privileged children, but instead of accepting what they have been born into with ambivalence, they genuinely appreciate what they have and seem to seize every opportunity to better themselves. One lesson I had with J a few months ago touched on the “nature versus nurture” argument, and as we discussed it, J told me a bit about his upbringing as he attempted to categorize his parents into the “nurturing” or “motivating” categories. [FYI: “nurturing” in this sense meant a parent who supports his/her child no matter what the child chooses to do, while “motivating” meant a parent who is supportive but continuously encouraging a child to try and to excel at as many different things as possible.] J told me that he luckily has one parent of each type - his mother is nurturing, while his father is motivating. As for what results this has yielded in J, he is a self-motivated, outgoing young man who is very interested in philosophy, politics and debate/classical argument, world issues, history, language, sports, music, and videogames (he is fifteen, after all!).

Anyway, J shines above almost all of my other students. He presents me with new challenges as a teacher to come up with lessons that he will find engaging, and once in a while he even catches me off-guard with the questions he asks. This is of course normal with bright students, but I guess I expect it more from native speakers than from TEFL students, which is why it surprises the crap out of me every time. J also has a knack for getting off-topic by engaging me in deep conversations about oh so many random things that, coincidentally, are very interesting topics that I could talk about for hours on end - I think J probably knows this and would rather sit and ‘chat’ for an hour and a half each week than do crummy grammar exercises that he could do in his sleep. Understandable, but still sneaky!

It’s one of these conversations that has me thinking about J tonight, as I just got back from class with him a few hours ago. We were talking about a lot of different things, but what interests me most about my talks with him is how much I learn from him. He tells me about European history, in particular that of Spain; he tells me about Plato and Descartes; and he told me tonight about sexism in the Spanish language and how difficult it is to change people’s minds on the subject, even those of the women who are most affected by it - most Spaniards hold the language as sacred and a part of tradition, like this magical thing that should never be changed or updated. He tells me how “behind the times” Spain is, how they get media (music and movies) months - sometimes years! - after the USA. He tells me how people in Spain tell him he could never be politically “left,” because he doesn’t believe in tradition (to which he vehemently stamps his foot and insists that he certainly believes in tradition, but not to the exclusion of questioning certain aspects of the traditions so that they reflect new understanding and enlightenment). After all, the traditions that we carry on through our lives are a reflection of not only who we were as a society and where we come from, but of who we are now and the image and history of ourselves that we want to portray for the future. J finds bull-fighting horrible, and he equated it tonight with the Roman tradition of putting slave men for the slaughter into a ring with tigers for the entertainment of the upper classes.

We don’t just talk about Spain, though. For every gem that J gives me about Spanish life and culture, I give him one about the English language, sometimes about the differences between American and British varieties and where they stem from - which of course must include some treatment of the respective histories, cultures, and ideologies there. We talked tonight about sexism in English, such as the current feminist arguments against the use of “woman” because it includes or is derived from “man,” and I think it surprised J to consider this for the first time. After he pondered this, he talked about how Spanish doesn’t have a neuter gender - for example, for certain professions which didn’t always include women but now do, the women who now do these jobs must still be referred to by a masculine noun.

Not to get too carried away in recounting all the details of my “lesson” with J tonight, but I just have to say what pure joy it is to have a student like him. It takes me back to my days of tutoring at UNT where I got to go to my Linguistics classes and learn these amazing new things about language and culture, and then just sit down with a student and use that information to help them in their pursuit of the ever-elusive “English.” I personally believe I changed lives in those days with what I taught students - hell, simply explaining the difference between descriptive and prescriptive grammar can do that! It’s students like J, though, that remind me why I’m teaching in the first place. I get to learn just as much as I teach; I get to feel like what I have to share with other people is actually going to change the way they think and live their lives. And it’s with these rare students with whom you have a connection that you genuinely feel like it’s not just the fact that you’re the teacher and they’re the student - you are you, and how you say the things you say to your students is only possible because of who you are, not what you do. It’s completely gratifying and self-fulfilling.

I want to make a constant effort to remember this, to be thankful for every lesson I get with students like J, and to use each one to its fullest potential - for both myself and my students.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Ups and downs...mostly downs

I generally try to refrain from being too negative in my blogs, but I just don't have it in me to be positive today. I've been sick since Saturday, and I ignored the impending doom and decided to stay out late drinking that night, which is always a bad idea. Then, I had an allergic reaction to some falafel from my favorite schwarma shop (which always includes a large amount of wheezing and coughing), and now it's like I've got full-on emphysema, complete with fever and chills.

Anyway, it's just like sickness to bring you to a dark place, make you consider things in a different light and examine your life a different way. An update since my last post: the b/f came to visit over New Years and went back to the States on January 7, and then I had to go back to work the following day. We had an amazing time - got to see most of what Granada has to offer, the big sights in Sevilla (and some amazing tapas bars), plus we were able to fit in a museum and a Malasana pub crawl with my favorite friend in Madrid. All in all, good stuff. We had some amazing conversations over good wine and tapas, just got to enjoy being together in its essence. Unfortunately, after he left, I've been a bit reclusive. And I thought I was getting away with it, but people in my house have started to notice. They've been asking me if I'm just really busy with work, and in response I tell them yes, but honestly my work is the same as it's always been. I feel a bit more stressed by it, but that's just because I need to build up the steam I had going last semester, and that's always tough after the holidays.

In all honesty, I've realized how difficult it is for me to connect with other people. And another key to this reclusiveness is really just the fact that since the b/f came, I'm pretty certain that I am not interested in other men. And this is a good thing - it's good to know, to be sure. But then, he's so far away, while the idea of going back to the States at this point is fairly upsetting. But it wasn't always like this, and I think right now it's a matter of my perspective (which, after two days in bed with a deafening cough, is pretty bleak) - during the summer, it seemed like I made these strange and beautiful connections to so many unexpected people. But now, maybe it's the winter, maybe it's that Granada isn't as magical for me anymore and is really a better "summer town," whatever the reason, I'm feeling taxed by the thought of even a casual "chat" with my housemates. And for that, of course I feel guilty. Like I'm purposefully being anti-social, which is so not like me.

In short, I've got to get over this cold and out of the house and back to myself. Pronto.