One Uninspiring Lesson about Inspiration

The lesson was supposed to be about inspiration. Who inspires you? How do you inspire others? In the segment of the film we watched yesterday, Mandela asks the captain of the Rugby team how he inspires his team. They talk together about leading by example. Today I posed the question: Who inspires you? And the answers I received were more fitted to the question: Who tells you what to do? I half-expected this cultural difference, but I did not prepare to explain the difference between two. As I stood at the board, the words “Tell”, “Influence”, and “Inspire” written in all caps, I struggled to explain how inspire is somehow self-created, even though it comes from others. It was not well thought-out and the three students who had shown up for class frowned disapprovingly.

I put down the shovel and posed a new question: How do you lead by example? I told them about my time as captain of the swim team, arriving early, practicing hard and staying late. They approved and told me some experiences with siblings and classmates that illustrated their comprehension. I made a reference to Mandela's assertion that he was being paid too much and that he would donate 1/3 of his paychecks to charity to set an example of generosity. The two out of three students who had seen the movie nodded along. I asked them if government officials should be paid a lot of money, hoping to spark a conversation about responsibility. And at first, it went there. Yes, government officials need high salaries because they have important jobs with many responsibilities. Should they have big houses and nice cars? I asked, hoping to spur a discussion about limits and maybe tap into Marxian frustrations. Perhaps it is here that I went awry.

The student who had been obviously studying for an exam during the entire conversation said, yes, as long as it's not corruption money. I countered with a smile and, how do you know if it's corruption money? The conversation continued timidly for about 10 minutes. I was trying to ask them about how government officials lead by example, for better or for worse. I don't think my message was clear.

After class, the student who had been studying came up to me and said: I don't think you should talk about corruption because that other student is in the military. This I knew, but since we had talked about corruption during nearly every classtime prior to this one, I immediately went on the defense. If he is uncomfortable, he can say something. Mid-sentence, it occurred to me that perhaps this student was really saying freedom of speech isn't the same here. I took a verbal step back, oh, I shouldn't talk about corruption? The student nodded and left. My face flushed and panic swept my body. So many times we are cautioned about that topic. Even though I am certain that I said nothing specific about Cambodian government, the possibility that I offended students (or put them in a vulnerable place) made me want to hide in a dirty bathroom (which I did for about 30 seconds between classes).

The lesson was supposed to be about inspiration. Instead, it was a reminder that this is still Cambodia.

No, it's not an April Fool--Lady Gaga as a teaching tool.

As a supplement yesterday's lesson about cellular telephone vocabulary, I brought music into the classroom. Lady Gaga's duet with Beyonce, called “Telephone”, tells the epic story of having a night out with friends ruined by a needy boyfriend's cell phone habits. With countless references to our vocabulary words set to a bumping beat, the song gave us context for talking about telephones.

The tiny speakers (from the Russian Market--where else?) connected to my ipod literally “brought the noise” for my class. We listened to the song a few times, read the lyrics and I even made them illustrate the scene. My students really hate it when I make them draw, but they all drew something today, even if it was only a disco ball. I liked listening to them describe their drawing to the class. This is Lady Gaga and Beyonce. They are at the club, drinking champagne and dancing. The man is calling. Lady Gaga is getting a text. She is annoyed.

A successful lesson. Thanks, Gaga.

By the way, my students are definitely prepared for any conversation involving "sippin' that bub" or "blowin' up my phone".

This tummy bug can't stop me!

Lately, I've been feeling lost—to say the least. My old identity as student and writing tutor has been traded in for wandering foreigner, leaving me confused about my niche in the world. To add to my disorientation, for the first time since I can remember, my success is not measured in grades. I have no A's to assure me that I am doing good work. Here, success is much more difficult to gauge. When my envisioned lesson plan leaves me reaching for the ejection seat, I often feel personally responsible, like I've really failed my students. Sure, I've only been a teacher for a short time, but I take such pride in my work that I am constantly evaluating my lessons. In Cambodia, my identity is based on my work at CWF, and I take that commitment very seriously—As always, I want to do my best work.

This morning, I know I was successful. Not even the ominous lower abdominal rumblings could stop me (though for just a moment, I was very concerned). My lesson on peer review with the Advanced Discussion went like a dream. As an English teacher, I was pleased that my students were communicating with the vocabulary I had presented. As a writer, however, I was thrilled to share my enthusiasm for this aspect of the writing process.

In this identity crisis, I am able to see what I really love doing. Whether as a teacher or student, I am fascinated by the writing process, the language acquisition process, and that moment when a new concept makes sense. Painful as it may be sometimes, realizing stuff like this is exactly what I wanted out of Cambodia (good thing because there are no refunds on journeys to find yourself). I can't wait to see what else Cambodia has in store for me!

Living the dream, soul-searching and other cliches

For now, I'm living the dream. At least that's what I told students this morning when we were taking turns asking “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” I explained that I am already in Cambodia—my answer to that question. Riding to school in the afternoon on a rickety Chinese bike, I feel like I'm in a movie. The dusty sunset against Phnom Penh's hustle and bustle seems too foreign to be part of my daily routine. Every day I have the same surreal feeling. Am I really here?

At the moment, sitting on the balcony, Khmer karaoke music swirling around, the week has caught up to me. It has been tough on my inner teacher. My Advanced Discussion hasn't gone like I envisioned and my night classes are difficult to manage. Slumped in the tuk tuk this morning, I felt defeated; like I was the worst teacher ever. A few unsuccessful lessons in a row can do that. Blank stares and chirping crickets are not encouraging.

After some intense soul-searching at the gym and several long talks with old friends and my volunteer colleagues, I've diagnosed some of the issues ailing my classes. First, I need to have a clear idea of what I want from students—otherwise, if I don't know, how the heck will they know what I want? I need to plan thoroughly and model the exercises. Second, I need to be an assertive teacher. But most importantly, I need to teach what I know! My two mottoes at the Writing Center were keep it short and simple, and write what you know. I've been doing neither of those here. I am a writer-- I need to use that to my advantage in the classroom. In the morning, I did a current events activity in which students read and listened to a Jena-fied version of a newspaper article about vocational training for inmates. A big success. In another class, I had students imagine their dream jobs and write a paragraph. They enjoyed the activity, it kept my classroom orderly, and many of them volunteered to read and discuss about their jobs afterward (a true miracle).

Contrary to my initial plan of catering to students, I am going to take advantage of my specific skills and education. More writing for me and the students, and definitely more discussion about current events. I miss you, CNN.

As I live the dream, I get to impose some of that of my students--how convenient!

Some semblance of routine in my life...it's about time!

I'm learning the art of lesson planning as I figure out my daily routine. Between my early morning and evening classes, a daily swim, and mandatory nap time, I still have a free hour or so to plan out activities for upcoming classes. The level 4 and 6's have course books that I can use to pretty much spoon-feed new material. The preparation includes sifting through the book exercises and adding some games or Cambodi-fying some of the activities to be more interesting. Sometimes the book is a useful resource, but other times, the material in the book is just crap (and yes, I get to decide)! The Advanced Discussion also has a book; however, my preparation is mostly to educate myself on how to run debates, how to teach presentation, how to present the more advanced forms of discussion. It is actually quite intimidating.

During class, I am bursting with energy. I love being in front of the students, talking, using gestures, and writing on the board. It is so energizing to think on my feet. Even the diabolical heat inside the stuffy rooms can't slow me down. I bring a hanky to soak up the sweat and a bottle of water to hydrate. The students are so much fun that I usually forget about the heat. When they have a questions, students will shout “Teacher!”, or the shortened version: “'Cher! 'Cher!” That always makes me smile. Sometimes I wish I could get away with calling them “student!” because their names are nearly impossible. Never one to be outsmarted by another language, I am trying my best to learn and use all 48 of my students' names. Good luck, me.

The initial high of teaching quickly gives way to hunger and exhaustion as soon as I'm back at the house. Especially in the morning, after two classes and my Khmer class, at 9:00 AM, I'm ready to call it a day. Instead, I grab a quick and sugar-laden breakfast from the bowl on the dining table. Fully sugared, I can usually convince myself to go for a swim because I've already paid good money for my membership. After a swim and shower, I have a few minutes to lesson plan, and before I know it, some strange (and increasingly yummy) curry lunch is in the big pot, and I've got a big bowl of rice at the ready.

Post-lunch is a real treat. Finish up the lesson plans, check Facebook, and crawl under my mosquito net for a nap. It's just too hot to do much else. By three o'clock, I'm usually ready to face the world again. Pour cup of instant coffee (and a lot of milk), grab some fresh fruit and a peanut butter toast and I'm almost human again. Another hour or so and it's time to bike over to the school for another, hotter round of teaching.

After the ride home, around 7:30 PM, I'm “pretty knackered” as my British friends say, and the remnants of dinner go down without complaint. A group debriefing about the day's mishaps (and “haps”?), a final check of the lesson plans, perhaps another check of Facebook (or Blogger!), and I'm ready for a second shower and lights-out!

Believe it or not, it's a full-on day to to be a 20-hour per week CWF volunteer. I'm absolutely exhausted every night. It's a good thing that all of my applications to volunteer elsewhere were rejected. This is plenty!

CWF Semester 15 is Underway!

I have a lot to learn about being a teacher. The first week of semester 15 went very well considering the amount of environmental stress that Cambodia puts on poor ol' me. In the wee hours of the morning, I teach an Advanced Discussion class. This course is designed for students who are fluent in English and who have a desire to keep practicing via more formal types of spoken communication (debate, presentation, media review, etc.) These students, although they still have varied levels of English proficiency, are willing to speak up in class and share their thoughts on almost any topic.

In contrast to the confidence of the Advanced Discussion students, many of my early morning level 4's are still shy about making mistakes. I enjoy teaching level 4 very much because they have accumulated a usable vocabulary bank, but they still look to me for a lot of assistance. As a teacher, I like to be needed. My morning level 4's are very reserved compared to the 4's I teach in the evening—what a rowdy bunch! The evening class is mainly high school students, which means a lot of chit-chatting and giggling. It's great energy, but I find myself having to shout to get (and keep) their attention. Our lesson about farm animal noises went over particularly well because this group can appreciate the silliness of oinking, mooing, and meowing our way through an hour.

My level 6 class is held at 5:00pm, a universally bad time to try to be patient, attentive, or energetic. My students have just come from the university, or from a full day's work, and they are exhausted, hot, and ready for dinner. The first two days of class were like a trip to the Cambodian dentist, but yesterday we got on the subject of child abuse and our class had a great and lengthy discussion about parenting technique. Who knew?

Lost Post from Sunday

I'm nearly alone in the house tonight. The same house that normally harbors the energy of 14. It's strange and lonely to have eaten my dinner in silence for the first time in a month. I'm in the cusp between semesters, dangling between the excitement of those returning home and the thrill of my new adventure. Since I can't talk to anyone anyway (laryngitis can shove it!) I'm using this long weekend to regroup.

As Fiona predicted, I'm asking a lot of the big questions to myself. Who am I? Where am I? What am I? Perhaps interesting for a conversation over coffee, I'm not terribly worried about these yet. I'm more concerned with questions like how can I spend 3 days at the house and not go nuts? When the heck will my voice come back? Will I fit in with the new volunteers? Am I blogging too often?

I'm also thinking about my real purpose here. I don't foresee an extended career of teaching English in Cambodia, so I've got to focus on what I can do for these students in the next three months. When I began teaching in late January, most of the other teachers had already given up on lesson planning and found a natural rhythm with students—or, they resorted to field trips and the media room. I felt a lot of pressure to make my lessons really fun, to disguise the learning part. I tried to be really creative and use lots of mini games to engage students. However, the feedback I got last week made me rethink my method.

Students at CWF are mostly university students or young professionals who are looking to English as a way to get a better job. At $40 for 10 weeks, these Cambodians are investing a hefty sum, though not the $120+ that similar schools charge. These are not restless children who were forced to come to school. These are adults who are motivated to improve their lives. They don't mind doing the grunt work that learning a language takes.

Based on that, of course I want to have a fun classroom atmosphere, but I want to focus on giving them a real learning environment. I've learned that Cambodian education is inconsistent at best, and that students at CWF have very little understanding of learning strategy and classroom behavior (at least the strategies and behaviors that western cultures take for granted). The best gift I give them is to do everything I can to help them learn the course material and give them a learning strategies for the future. The typical language classroom includes an introduction of new vocabulary, drills, controlled practice, and review.

My responsibility as a conversation teacher is to speak slowly and clearly enough for students to understand, but also to challenge them in real time. In a real conversation, many times there is no pen or whiteboard to write the word or draw a picture. In real time, we use gestures or description to get our point across. Sometimes, I have found that even if the student knows the correct word, the pronunciation limits my ability to understand. The Khmer-accented English is one of the most difficult I've come across. Similarly, listening to English must be very difficult for Khmer-trained ears. The sounds and emphasis are just back to front different. For instance, when we were talking about food, one student was raving about “spAHgehdEE” and I just couldn't make sense of it. Eventually, we got “spaghetti” and the world was small again.

I have a lot to learn.

Learning for a reason

Teaching is hard. All you teachers out there nod your heads in agreement because I am right. There's nothing quite like the desperation of watching your lesson plan tank as you stand in front of a white board, unsure of what to do next. Do you abandon ship and let class out early? Do you persevere, despite the looks of horrified confusion on the students' faces? Do you casually mumble something and then spend the rest of class explaining/apologizing about the naughty words in English?

Luckily, in a low-pressure school like CWF, most class periods are a breeze (indeed the only breeze in Cambodia). Today, for instance, I used a high-energy game to review the past two weeks' material. The students were excited, bursting out with laughter, and speaking English! I was pleased. The CWF students are motivated by business and education opportunities and I am so proud of them for doing something to advance themselves. Cambodia is a sink hole unless you get a leg up. Cambodians who can get a university education and significant English language training have a much higher chance to break the cycle.

On my first week at CWF

The world looks pretty good from here. Fiona (my current roommate) and I just indulged in the best brownie sundaes at Cafe Yejj. I'm feeling quite pleased with the afternoon so far.

I taught classes every day this week, and aside from my apprehension about feeling out lesson plans amidst more experienced teachers, I think the week was a success. My intuitive lesson plan about death and dying, though a bit grim, provided the students a window into how the West handles the funeral process; and in return, I got to learn about the Cambodian rituals. The best part of my plan was making the card for Delma. Students were able to use the vocabulary we learned in their messages, and they were able to tell Delma how much they appreciated her work at CWF. It was very encouraging to see how much the students cared for their teacher, and how eager they were to learn new material.

Because CWF focuses on conversational English, I am trying to figure out how best to introduce vocabulary as a part of conversation. The obvious solution is to get students speaking for as much of the class time as possible. Some students would be happy to just chat for the entire hour, but other students are less willing to speak. The challenge is getting the chatty students to focus on the new vocabulary and to encourage the quiet students to practice speaking. None of this is ground-breaking discovery, but as a fledgling teacher, it's all new to me.

CWF tests incoming students and ranks them in classes from level 1 (very beginning) to 8 (fluent). Students may also choose Advanced Communication or Advanced Discussion if they are looking to continue practicing. My classes are level 4 and 5, which puts their abilities at medium, with lots of variation among the students. Most of my level 5's are business people in accounting and finance, so their existing vocabulary is very tailored around money, banking, and work. My 4's are an endearing bunch, one older woman who works for an NGO, and three university students. The hard part about this group is figuring out concepts that will challenge them but not be too hard (my stereotype lesson was overly ambitious). Today's lesson, Driving in America, went over well. We even had a mock driving lesson and a through discussion of American laws regarding seat belts and child safety seats.

I can tell that teaching isn't going to be as easy as I thought, but I'm up for the challenge because I'm already feeling the rewards. One of my students even friended me on Facebook.