My lack of updates in the last month is quite alarming. I can only imagine that you, my readers, have begun to fear the worst. Perhaps you thought I had run afoul of some 7th grade hoodlums that had it in for me because I chose to use the city "Guangzhou" as a word in Hangman; or, you thought my frequent consumption of tricycle chicken had finally gotten the best of me. Rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, I am alive, although currently a tad hungover.
Yesterday, was my good friend Erin's birthday. So, in typical Kiwi fashion, there was a copious amount of alcohol for all to enjoy. She was fortunate enough to enjoy the day off of work because her students were taking midterm exams. I was unfortunate enough to teach 6 classes of my increasingly unruly students . . . I mean, my increasingly lovely and spectacular students. No matter the lesson, with 27 classes of widely varying student abilities, there are always a few classes that decide talking to their friends is more important than listening to Mr. "Old News" Miner. It's the nature of the position, I have decided.
First, I was instructed not to spend too much time on vocabulary, grammar, or even pronunciation. The students have their regular English lessons during the week with a Chinese English teacher for those things. It makes sense to have a teacher who can render the new and unfamiliar aspects of English into Chinese so that the students can understand. Second, the book I was asked to use provided barely enough material for the first semester. I was was not given another book to use. And last, but certainly not least, I am tasked with getting as many students of the 56 in each class as possible using the English they have learned in constructive and engaging ways. I will give you all a moment to laugh at my misfortune.
Now, maybe if I had a whole class of similar ability levels the lessons would be much more useful. However, I have students who can debate contemporary issues with making only one or two language mistakes in classes with students who cannot respond to the most basic of questions, like "where are you going?" or "what class did you just have?" I am not complaining of the students whose English is lacking. My Chinese is worse than the English that the vast majority of my students possess. I can certainly empathize and sympathize with their feelings when they are met by a person yammering on in a foreign language and expecting an answer to a question. I've been there, approximately every time I get in a taxi. And go to the supermarket. And try to buy something. And when I step outside the school grounds . . . you get the picture.
I'm not sure what the educational philosophy is behind having such a wide range of ability in one classroom is. The low students cannot get the focus on the areas they lack and the high students are not challenged. Too often I find both ends of the spectrum bored as I try to vary my lessons and speech from simple to complex in an attempt to give all the students something they can understand and build upon. Too often I feel that my position as a "foreign teacher" almost completely negates any chance of real teaching. Almost.
There are enough good kids who really enjoy speaking English that I have never been able to look back on a whole day and say it has been a complete waste of my time and the students'. I suppose that's what keeps teachers in this punishing game for so many years. That, and summers off.
Returning to our scheduled programing.
For Erin's birthday, we went out to a nice restaurant, ate nice food, then headed to her second home, known as Tiger Bar. I'm actually not sure why everyone calls it Tiger Bar; I've been told that the Chinese characters translate to Story Bar by a native Chinese friend. It really is irrelevant. You only need know that I drank too much for having to work the next day, but I figured it was a worthy cause for which teaching hungover was unavoidable. The day has passed by quickly and painlessly enough, thanks to ibuprofen and coffee.
In order to avoid going to bed promptly after dinner, I sought caffeinated refuge in the form of Coffeewe. It is a magical place filled with delicious coffee and homemade cheesecake. Erin was led to this land of wonder by another foreigner who hails from the England. The small shop is run by a husband and wife. The husband's forte is the concocting of beautifully brown (or black for you Americano drinkers) brews, while the wife must be a magician with the way she enchants my taste buds with her dairy-derived delights. I'm not actually sure what sort of dairy goes into cheesecake, I'm merely going off of the "cheese" in the name. We will just pretend that Google isn't a thing and discovering what makes a cheesecake would prove a laborious and challenging task. It's like we're in an episode of the Flintstones, everyone!
Today, I had one of the most delicious things I have ever had: Pumpkin Chocolate cheescake. The crust was a sort of oreo, chocolatey cookie wonder that provided a base for a flavor combination I had never even dared to imagine. The middle portion (the cheesey part?) was the color you would expect with "pumpkin" in the name, but it was lacking the spices you find in a pumpkin pie. The top was a thick shell of, what seemed to me, semi-sweet chocolate. I know there was more to it, but I cannot, for the life of me, describe what had been in my mouth. I can only say that it was wonderful and fantastic and brings to mind puppies and rainbows and other assorted cuddly baby animals. Erin agreed with my feelings.
I hope this post signals my overcommitment to updating regularly, but I have offered that false promise before. You'd best not believe me and my lying ways. At the very least, thank you for reading and long live Coffeewe!
Yesterday, was my good friend Erin's birthday. So, in typical Kiwi fashion, there was a copious amount of alcohol for all to enjoy. She was fortunate enough to enjoy the day off of work because her students were taking midterm exams. I was unfortunate enough to teach 6 classes of my increasingly unruly students . . . I mean, my increasingly lovely and spectacular students. No matter the lesson, with 27 classes of widely varying student abilities, there are always a few classes that decide talking to their friends is more important than listening to Mr. "Old News" Miner. It's the nature of the position, I have decided.
First, I was instructed not to spend too much time on vocabulary, grammar, or even pronunciation. The students have their regular English lessons during the week with a Chinese English teacher for those things. It makes sense to have a teacher who can render the new and unfamiliar aspects of English into Chinese so that the students can understand. Second, the book I was asked to use provided barely enough material for the first semester. I was was not given another book to use. And last, but certainly not least, I am tasked with getting as many students of the 56 in each class as possible using the English they have learned in constructive and engaging ways. I will give you all a moment to laugh at my misfortune.
Now, maybe if I had a whole class of similar ability levels the lessons would be much more useful. However, I have students who can debate contemporary issues with making only one or two language mistakes in classes with students who cannot respond to the most basic of questions, like "where are you going?" or "what class did you just have?" I am not complaining of the students whose English is lacking. My Chinese is worse than the English that the vast majority of my students possess. I can certainly empathize and sympathize with their feelings when they are met by a person yammering on in a foreign language and expecting an answer to a question. I've been there, approximately every time I get in a taxi. And go to the supermarket. And try to buy something. And when I step outside the school grounds . . . you get the picture.
I'm not sure what the educational philosophy is behind having such a wide range of ability in one classroom is. The low students cannot get the focus on the areas they lack and the high students are not challenged. Too often I find both ends of the spectrum bored as I try to vary my lessons and speech from simple to complex in an attempt to give all the students something they can understand and build upon. Too often I feel that my position as a "foreign teacher" almost completely negates any chance of real teaching. Almost.
There are enough good kids who really enjoy speaking English that I have never been able to look back on a whole day and say it has been a complete waste of my time and the students'. I suppose that's what keeps teachers in this punishing game for so many years. That, and summers off.
Returning to our scheduled programing.
For Erin's birthday, we went out to a nice restaurant, ate nice food, then headed to her second home, known as Tiger Bar. I'm actually not sure why everyone calls it Tiger Bar; I've been told that the Chinese characters translate to Story Bar by a native Chinese friend. It really is irrelevant. You only need know that I drank too much for having to work the next day, but I figured it was a worthy cause for which teaching hungover was unavoidable. The day has passed by quickly and painlessly enough, thanks to ibuprofen and coffee.
In order to avoid going to bed promptly after dinner, I sought caffeinated refuge in the form of Coffeewe. It is a magical place filled with delicious coffee and homemade cheesecake. Erin was led to this land of wonder by another foreigner who hails from the England. The small shop is run by a husband and wife. The husband's forte is the concocting of beautifully brown (or black for you Americano drinkers) brews, while the wife must be a magician with the way she enchants my taste buds with her dairy-derived delights. I'm not actually sure what sort of dairy goes into cheesecake, I'm merely going off of the "cheese" in the name. We will just pretend that Google isn't a thing and discovering what makes a cheesecake would prove a laborious and challenging task. It's like we're in an episode of the Flintstones, everyone!
Today, I had one of the most delicious things I have ever had: Pumpkin Chocolate cheescake. The crust was a sort of oreo, chocolatey cookie wonder that provided a base for a flavor combination I had never even dared to imagine. The middle portion (the cheesey part?) was the color you would expect with "pumpkin" in the name, but it was lacking the spices you find in a pumpkin pie. The top was a thick shell of, what seemed to me, semi-sweet chocolate. I know there was more to it, but I cannot, for the life of me, describe what had been in my mouth. I can only say that it was wonderful and fantastic and brings to mind puppies and rainbows and other assorted cuddly baby animals. Erin agreed with my feelings.
I hope this post signals my overcommitment to updating regularly, but I have offered that false promise before. You'd best not believe me and my lying ways. At the very least, thank you for reading and long live Coffeewe!