As I sit here grading on a lovely Sunday afternoon, the breeze floating in through my window and catching corners of grammar tests to tempt them off the table and out into the day, I ask myself, what am I doing here again? It's groundhog day (thank you, Ethan for the image) and I am back in school again. I hated school! Every assignment was torturous. I have wiped the whole horrible memory of it all so well from my brain that I desire to go back to grad school.
My conclusion? Teaching is masochism. It taunts you with potentially wonderful friends (my students) you instead are forced to grade and discipline. It requires you to hold those who most interest you at arms length so as not to play favorites. It takes the joy out of any material that intrigues you as you must review it, and review it again so as not to make an idiot of yourself in front of the class. Not to mention you now associate that theme with the sick feeling you have in your stomach when you are in front of a critical audience.
Teaching is bad for one's health. It requires you eat and pee and sleep and read at odd times without any say. It gives you sore throats. It exposes you to 100's of people's germs you wouldn't otherwise come in contact with.
Teaching is bad for one's wardrobe. It forces you to live on an inhumane wage and scrimp on shopping at the very time you find yourself in front of crowds of Italians and Japanese every day. And don't lets speak again about the close-toed shoes rule.
Yet if I'm honest, without teaching, I wouldn't know wonderful people in the world like 11 year-old Lucas in Argentina who called me on the 4th of July after two years of silence to say "Hi, Miss Morris" (my maiden name). I recognized his voice immediately.
Without teaching I wouldn't know Ippei, this 20 year-old Japanese sweetheart in my class who plays base guitar and wears purple Keds everyday. I wouldn't get to hear his nightmarish, yet entertaining stories of the cabby who robbed him of $220 US for a taxi ride from one end of JFK airport to the other.
I would never have been close to my friends in Spain or have had the experience of being a missionary. I would never have found an awed appreciation for all those professors in college who received my anonymous but scathing reviews (forgive me, Lord!) I wouldn't have the guts to say, "no" to my kids or the authority to tell them what I want from them.
I would never have heard the story of my Korean female student Do Yoon who went to a vegetarian restaurant, saw a "Chickpea sandwich" on the menu and told the waitress with disgust, "I can't believe Americans eat baby chickens!"
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Friday, August 3, 2007
A Looong Blog
Observations...
Shellfish
They may not be paying doctors these days what they used to, but oh the contrast in catered meals Phil & my employers offered us during our first month at our new jobs. Phil's "Welcome to Fellowship Clambake": Between the two of us, we managed to polish off 2 lobsters, a 1/2 lb. pile of "steamers" (clams & oysters), 2 bowls of clam chowder, a couple of fresh ears of corn, 2 sweet muffins, and a bowl of strawberry shortcake before the mosquitoes evicted us. (It was the mosquitoes or the nasty looks from the doctor sitting next to me who I'd squirted 15 times with lobster juice and corn before the meal was over. No joke.) Laura's school's "catered" lunch consisted of:
1)wonder bread in a bag
2)processed cheese (at least they had cheese!)
3) lettuce
4) bologna slices.
I am NOT kidding. This was the gratuitous lunch they offered us in lieu of payment for 1.5 hours of grading time on the last day of classes in July. What is it about teachers settling for such abuse? I was horrified not so much by the lack of pay, but rather by the lack of condiments. If you're going to serve me bologna, at least provide some mustard.
Bigfoot...
Did you know that in Boston, size 11 feet are considered freakish? So much so that the clerks who I've asked for flats in a size above mine (10) for the purpose of inserting insoles have looked at me like I've just spoken to them in Tagalog. Forget those gals in Cali who wear a size 12!!!
New Englanders on Change:
"We've been doing it this way for over 100 years-what's your problem?"
International hub...
Did you know that on the streets of Boston you can hear up to 15 different languages spoken each day? I'm not talking about my ESL students, Euro tourists, or even Spanish-speaking immigrants. I'm talking about crazy languages from Africa and the South Pacific that I couldn't even begin to identify. Cool!
A tribute to my beautiful day by the Charles...
Tonight I went to meet a group of Spanish students for a free outdoor movie (part of my all-hours crazy job) and they didn't show. At first I was depressed and felt all alone as I walked toward the subway line that runs back to our apartment. But then I decided I would rejoice in the Lord instead. All of a sudden, the path I was walking on broadened and opened to one of the most beautiful scenes I have witnessed ever in my life! There are these lovely canals that run by the Charles River and the sun was setting behind thick groves of trees and ducks were playing in the reeds that grew around the stony bridges crossing the canals. To my right was the river blowing in the warm breeze and covered in white sail boats. To my left were a row of 200 year-old brownstone buildings with green copper balconies covered in ivy and the Boston skyline behind them, shining in the sunset. What a gift! I feel so blessed to be here, in spite of the challenges of the move and getting started!
Shellfish
They may not be paying doctors these days what they used to, but oh the contrast in catered meals Phil & my employers offered us during our first month at our new jobs. Phil's "Welcome to Fellowship Clambake": Between the two of us, we managed to polish off 2 lobsters, a 1/2 lb. pile of "steamers" (clams & oysters), 2 bowls of clam chowder, a couple of fresh ears of corn, 2 sweet muffins, and a bowl of strawberry shortcake before the mosquitoes evicted us. (It was the mosquitoes or the nasty looks from the doctor sitting next to me who I'd squirted 15 times with lobster juice and corn before the meal was over. No joke.) Laura's school's "catered" lunch consisted of:
1)wonder bread in a bag
2)processed cheese (at least they had cheese!)
3) lettuce
4) bologna slices.
I am NOT kidding. This was the gratuitous lunch they offered us in lieu of payment for 1.5 hours of grading time on the last day of classes in July. What is it about teachers settling for such abuse? I was horrified not so much by the lack of pay, but rather by the lack of condiments. If you're going to serve me bologna, at least provide some mustard.
Bigfoot...
Did you know that in Boston, size 11 feet are considered freakish? So much so that the clerks who I've asked for flats in a size above mine (10) for the purpose of inserting insoles have looked at me like I've just spoken to them in Tagalog. Forget those gals in Cali who wear a size 12!!!
New Englanders on Change:
"We've been doing it this way for over 100 years-what's your problem?"
International hub...
Did you know that on the streets of Boston you can hear up to 15 different languages spoken each day? I'm not talking about my ESL students, Euro tourists, or even Spanish-speaking immigrants. I'm talking about crazy languages from Africa and the South Pacific that I couldn't even begin to identify. Cool!
A tribute to my beautiful day by the Charles...
Tonight I went to meet a group of Spanish students for a free outdoor movie (part of my all-hours crazy job) and they didn't show. At first I was depressed and felt all alone as I walked toward the subway line that runs back to our apartment. But then I decided I would rejoice in the Lord instead. All of a sudden, the path I was walking on broadened and opened to one of the most beautiful scenes I have witnessed ever in my life! There are these lovely canals that run by the Charles River and the sun was setting behind thick groves of trees and ducks were playing in the reeds that grew around the stony bridges crossing the canals. To my right was the river blowing in the warm breeze and covered in white sail boats. To my left were a row of 200 year-old brownstone buildings with green copper balconies covered in ivy and the Boston skyline behind them, shining in the sunset. What a gift! I feel so blessed to be here, in spite of the challenges of the move and getting started!
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