Victims of ET 091
And I thought the clock moved slowly in seventh-grade biology. I just spent five-and-a-half hours teaching my first English class from 2:00 to 3:40 p.m. today at Jianghai College.
ET 091 is a sophomore class. The “ET” stands for English and Trade, as in I’d trade my right arm not to have to teach any more English classes to Chinese college students. The ad said: “Teaching job for native English speaker, no experience necessary.” Why do I feel as if I just bought a timeshare at a Superfund site?
Given my teaching background — none — I was already sweating bullets going into the first class. So, it was a good thing the humidity in Yangzhou was down to 463% and the temperature to a cool 99°. I swear, you could have poured liquid nitrogen on me, and it would have felt like Coppertone. Ten minutes in, my shirt was soaked through. Next class? Wearing a Speedo. Don’t care anymore.
I had been warned, through other sources and by Lily Han of the foreign language department here, that it would be a challenge to get the students to open up. ESL (English as a second language) materials generally recommend that the teacher do as little talking as possible. There’s even a negative acronym — TTT (teacher talking time) — for the lecture-dominated style.
But that’s exactly what most Chinese students are used to. Nevertheless, I plunged ahead with a carefully thought-out lesson plan derived from cramming and my extensive teaching background.
ET 091 lesson plan, 2-3:40 p.m. Sept. 9, 2010 (34 students — more than I had been told, by the way — who already had several years of English coursework behind them). The first class would focus on asking questions in English to learn about someone. Interviewing, in other words.
15-20 minutes:
Introduce self, write name on board, give background, why I came to China, etc., followed by rules and expectations, how students will be graded.
Blank stares.
Stress importance of participation. State clearly that there are no bad questions or terrible answers, that I hope to learn as much from them as they do from me. Ask students a few questions about my background to see what they absorbed, then offer them a chance to think of questions they would like to ask me.
Blank stares.
20-30 minutes:
Have students write names on slips of paper (almost all choose American-ized versions of their actual names) and introduce themselves to me, one by one.
Blank stares, intense embarrassment, no responses. Teacher calls early break between periods, mentally begins making flight reservations. Clearly, the time has come to deviate from the plan.
Having viewed the textbook as a last resort, I now reached for it as if it were a plank of driftwood on a stormy sea. I asked the class to turn to page 10 and instructed them to repeat after me as I slowly read a list of questions right from the book. A few voices repeated the first one softly. By the third question, they were chanting each one loudly and perfectly. By the fourth, they were no longer paying any attention to me and simply reading aloud, pronouncing one after the other almost flawlessly.
Gee, maybe they’re a little more comfortable reciting as a group. Other slap-me-upside-the-head realizations: If I approached a student individually, literally standing inches away, he or she would almost inaudibly try to give an answer to my question in what I can only describe as very accomplished English. They are far better than they think they are.
Next, I broke them into a groups of five to eight. Each group was assigned to find out as much as they could about one member of the group by asking questions in English, and by paying attention to answers given in English. (I think I’m going to have to lighten up a little on the no-Chinese-speaking rule.) Most of the students proved to be more comfortable writing out their questions first, though some of the questions were directed at me, as in, “Why did you pick China?”
Tough one to answer after today. Because it wanted me?
The China Rog-ect 