Monday, January 25, 2010

A is for Apple

At no point in my childhood did I ever consider being a teacher. Not even on my map/radar/compass… whatever you want to call it. I was supposed to be working for a fortune 500 company in their marketing department in a beautiful city in the US. Well, it’s pretty easy to see that dream train didn’t stay or course. I have never had any form of skill with children, and often seemed to have the “hold-a-baby-and-it-starts-crying” curse. I can’t describe how things clicked, but just like legos, everything has connected to make my daily job pretty freaking cool.
Yes, I have yelled. Days have worn me out, but they have also made my some kind of teaching crunk from the really fun classes. Some of the kids have so much fun with you and always joke around in a way that they are your little brother or sister.
I am in a completely different form of education environment compared to my Midwestern high school or even my mother’s inner city hot mess. Essentially, Hess is a “private” education where the students are paying to learn, so they are fairly motivated. They work hard, and they respect the teacher…. Most of the time.
Classroom punishment is harsh by western standards, but it does work dreams. For example, if a student can’t sit still even after a series of warnings, I ask them to stand up until they apologize to me and the class. There is no concern for “political correctness” or children’s feelings. Calling students out is not only encouraged, it is pretty effective. I would never be able to tell a child in American, “Ricky, you are so slow,” in front of the class. But honestly, Rick is slow. Everyone already knows it, so hey… why not tell them and use it to get him moving a little bit.
Hearing “teacher Bethany” sometimes still stops me in my tracks. They are intrusting me with people’s educations, which is something that I value more than worldly things. It is a lot of pressure knowing that your words and actions will help or hinder someone’s growth, development, and English ability. It’s one of those things that can totally overwhelm you if you think too hard or focus too much on it. Averaging and giving grades makes me thing if how I felt when the teachers would pass back horrible scores. What really gets me is why I teach the ABCs. Something so basic, but the fundamental building block of English.

Stop, Move, and Wiggle With It

So overall, what rocks my socks? What makes me say “that’s…um… different”? Here is the short list of the biggest adjustment, that I’m sure will grow over time:
1. Food- I should preface this with the fact that I eat Chinese food circa two times a year, if that. Those two times the food is great. I love it! However, after the third lunch box I had reached my limit. There is this one unnamed spice that is the bane of my existence. It has the power to enact my gag reflect and seemed to wiggle itself into every dish in Taipei. Luckily, Taichung hasn’t provided any bad experiences with it yet, but my cat like reflects are still waiting for the day it strikes.
2. Chopsticks. I’m trying, and I love them. But sometime a girl needs a fork, especially with a salad. But this is minor.
3. Lack of freshness. The food here is actually incredibly fresh. For example, if you order meat at the market the vendor will most likely kill it for you and then give it to you. Rather, due to the pesticides used in the dirt salads are a rare commodity here, and usually pretty expensive. If you know me, you know I love my veggies. I need my veggies
4. Toilets. Western toilets are common, but squatters are the norm. If you don’t know what I’m talking about…. Google it. It is supposed to be healthier for you, but I feel unusually venerable.
5. Toilet paper. I’m not a “Charmin only snob”, but the toilet paper here is like a thin table napkin. So you only get one at a time and they are thin. Not fun, but the icing on the cake is the fact that they don’t flush it. Yep, the used TP goes in a trash bin next to the porcelain throne. It’s hard to remember and kind gross if you go to a place that doesn’t take it out every day.
6. Communication styles. The culture here is very much “through the grape vine” which means you often can’t tell if you have messed up or ticked someone off until a day or two later. For example, if you wear something a little too revealing, a coworker might say to you, “Aren’t you cold?” a day later. It is completely opposite from how I like to communicate with people, and has thrown my social interaction balance off. Its getting better, but the fact that I don’t get immediate results slows down the pace of relationships.
7. 6 dias in a week. The typical Taiwanese work week is 6 days. Kids go to school 6 days a week and some people even work 7 days a week. It’s actually not as horrible as it sounds, but it does make you cherish your one day off a week. My days feel like I am still in college since I go to bed at all hours and am still spending a lot of time in the classroom.
8. Language. Last but not least! I literally have no clue what these people are saying to me. Many people just talk to me and I stand there and smile. Really, no clue. I try- but nothing is even remotely close to English or Spanish. Often I slip into Spanish and answer them with “No queiro ahora.” Really? That’s not going to get me anywhere.

Teacher, One More Time!

For the last month my teaching has been spread over 3 branches. Hess is the biggest English school in Taiwan, and has over 60ish branches scattered throughout the country. I have been subbing kindergarten classes in the morning in a northern suburb called Fungyuen or something like that. Then on the afternoons I have a class of kids that are around 6 or 7 years old at a branch in the central part of the city, but the kids have had pretty intense exposure to English through some bilingual kindergarden. In the evening I have the cram classes. This is an abnormally packed schedule for my contract, meaning my normal schedule will be the afternoon and evening schedules. The children are fairly respectful and very, very busy. Many of them are in school for at least 10 hours a day- not activities, but actual school. There are math cram schools, French cram schools, and any other kind of cram school except for the classic American mix of sports, music, and art. My kindergarteners put and undeniable swing in my step with their cute little outfits and abnormally large heads. They are 3 and 4 years old, but can still lean as much English as some of the kids in my beginning levels of cram school. Basically, they are all bundles of cuteness in cute little sweat suits. And yes, there are fat Asians. They are generally extra cute with pudgy little cheeks and jolly smiles. All the students’ English has far surpassed my expectations, but the catch phrase, “Teacher one more time” always brings a smile to the teachers’ faces.
My main branch, Funjia, is right smack dab next to the biggest night market in Taichung. What is a night market you make ask? It is a big mix of fashion-forward clothes, fried food, fair-like games, and eyeglass shops. It’s the same thing every night… but yet each street is packed every night. I’ve been there a least 10 times and I still feel like an overwhelmed shopper on the day after Thanksgiving. Chinese New Year is quickly approaching, meaning everyone will be cleaning out their closets and homes- and purchasing all brand new items. The night markets are more packed than ever, and the department stores are covered in red banners, lanterns, and photos of tigers. I have tested my shopping skills out in the night market, only to find that my body dimensions aren’t completely incompatible with the Asian styles, but my shoe size is. I did invest in a cute dress for New Years and our upcoming banquet for a total of $30US. Thank you Taiwan, thank you.

Friday, January 15, 2010

If You Blow A Monk A Kiss

I don’t like it when life is planned out and predictable for long period of time. I used to.. but I really enjoy not having a plan right now. So, our first weekend in Taichung the group hit the streets. I was determined on seeing mountains, and I remember our director say, “they are right down this road.” So 8 of us headed down “that road”. 4 hours later we had seen our first book shop, pet shop, nursery, and monastery. We went down the same road to the mountain, and turned down a series of small roads until we found an abandoned coffee shop, dead end trail, and best of all… a monastery. It was a mix of Confucianism and Daoism, and the man welcomed us in to a glistening shrine with so man intricate twist and turns my camera really didn’t know what to do with itself. At this point in time I was very thankful for CNT, a dreaded class at Butler, just for the sheer understanding of an ounce of the symbols and rituals. The monk was overjoyed to show us another shrine in a stark white room. After our photos were complete, he made sure we all got one together and then sent us on our merry way. For some reason I’ve felt the need to blow kisses. And although the monk was covered from head to toe in his robe and clearly did not have an abundance of kisses in his life, I blew a freaking kiss to this man. The stupidity of my actions temporarily paralyzed me, but the monk’s ability to laugh it off then allowed me to do the same.
We’ve been up to the mountain several times since, each time walking away with a different experience. Regardless of the experience, now I’ll know what happens if you blow a monk a kiss!

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