A Day for Lovers
A special event took place at Qianfoshan (1000 Buddha mountain) yesterday, Qianfoshan Shanhui. Thousands gathered for the sole purpose of making a love connection. At the foot of the mountain flowed a sea of single people (and parents ready with attractive photographs) looking for a match. I don’t think Single’s Functions’get much bigger than that. Some of my students said they’d be heading there after class.
On the first day of class this term, many of my male students expressed that they want to find a girlfriend this year—a task made even more difficult by the unbalanced ratio of men to women. I’ve heard that there are some 16 million more men in China.
As far as I can tell, my university students are stressed out in just about every possible capacity. A fiercely competitive job market ramps up the stress level at university. And out of that environment, it seems to me that a number of students have developed a proclivity for cheating. During the final examination last term, I had at least one incident of cheating in each of my seven classes. A dictionary hidden under the desk, a note passed, a whisper.
The suspicious behavior is not hard to detect; I can feel when a student has one eye locked on me. If someone’s mind is consumed with how they will go about the process of cheating instead of the exam itself, I can see it on his or her face. I dread having to make eye contact with that person.
If I had it my way, no one would ever take the risk, but I’ve seen it a number of times and had to give that look. At the very moment of eye contact the recipient’s entire body stiffens and the lungs pump a huge swell of air into the throat. Damn.
Yesterday, I was faced with one of these uncomfortable situations. Right now, my university students are giving oral presentations. I’ve allowed them to have a few notes to refer to, but made one thing perfectly clear: use your own words.
One of the quieter students who sits in the very back corner (where seven men cram into a row designed for four when there is plenty of space up near the front) came up to present.
“These are my thoughts,” he began timidly. And without taking his eyes off his notebook he described his various moods, “heavy”, “soulful”, “playful”...
His descriptions were beautiful in such a simple way that had me convinced he was secretly a very talented writer. I considered that he might be slightly embarrassed to reveal his talent in the presence of the back-row posse.
He continued, “As I write this, I am in my playful mood. I am like my kitten ready to pounce.”
When he finished, he shyly looked in my direction. With complete sincerity, I raised my eyebrows to show my delight and then very softly and sincerely mouthed the words, “That was beautiful.” I hoped that only he could hear me and that my comment wouldn’t cause him any embarrassment.
Before he returned to his seat, I said, “Wait there just a moment.” I stood up to ask the class, “Do you all know the word ‘pounce’?”
Their faces were (not uncommonly) blank, so I looked at the speaker and asked him to translate the word “pounce” into Chinese. He too looked at me blankly. “Pounce.” I said again, “You wrote about your kitten, ‘ready to pounce’.”
I nodded at him waiting for him to register which word I was talking about. His face wrinkled nervously. I began to walk towards him in order to point out “pounce” in the notes that he had written. I was expecting him to respond, “ooOOooh, pownts” in a Chinese accent, revealing to all that the misunderstanding had been because of the way I pronounced the word (the correct way). That kind of thing happens a lot in class.
When I reached him, I looked down at his notebook and gestured for him to open it back up. He did it very slowly and, as I now recognize, reluctantly. He opened his notebook to reveal a page torn from a book.
Our eyes met for a split second, then I awkwardly turned to the class and began to describe the action of pouncing. The whole class knew exactly what had just happened. Maybe my face told them, but I hoped not. I don’t even remember what I said for the next minute of class. My heart was pounding.
Looking back, I wonder why these kinds of things make me so awkward and incapacitated. I think it would all be different if I were dealing with students a couple years younger than myself.
When I taught at Nature’s Classroom, last year, my weakest point was discipline. But by the end of the year, I had learned a great deal and felt I’d made vast improvements in my classroom management. I was no longer giving off the "I invite and encourage you to walk all over me” vibe.
Unfortunately, I feel as though I can’t apply any of what I learned to manage the university students. I guess it just feels rude somehow.
On the first day of class this term, many of my male students expressed that they want to find a girlfriend this year—a task made even more difficult by the unbalanced ratio of men to women. I’ve heard that there are some 16 million more men in China.
As far as I can tell, my university students are stressed out in just about every possible capacity. A fiercely competitive job market ramps up the stress level at university. And out of that environment, it seems to me that a number of students have developed a proclivity for cheating. During the final examination last term, I had at least one incident of cheating in each of my seven classes. A dictionary hidden under the desk, a note passed, a whisper.
The suspicious behavior is not hard to detect; I can feel when a student has one eye locked on me. If someone’s mind is consumed with how they will go about the process of cheating instead of the exam itself, I can see it on his or her face. I dread having to make eye contact with that person.
If I had it my way, no one would ever take the risk, but I’ve seen it a number of times and had to give that look. At the very moment of eye contact the recipient’s entire body stiffens and the lungs pump a huge swell of air into the throat. Damn.
Yesterday, I was faced with one of these uncomfortable situations. Right now, my university students are giving oral presentations. I’ve allowed them to have a few notes to refer to, but made one thing perfectly clear: use your own words.
One of the quieter students who sits in the very back corner (where seven men cram into a row designed for four when there is plenty of space up near the front) came up to present.
“These are my thoughts,” he began timidly. And without taking his eyes off his notebook he described his various moods, “heavy”, “soulful”, “playful”...
His descriptions were beautiful in such a simple way that had me convinced he was secretly a very talented writer. I considered that he might be slightly embarrassed to reveal his talent in the presence of the back-row posse.
He continued, “As I write this, I am in my playful mood. I am like my kitten ready to pounce.”
When he finished, he shyly looked in my direction. With complete sincerity, I raised my eyebrows to show my delight and then very softly and sincerely mouthed the words, “That was beautiful.” I hoped that only he could hear me and that my comment wouldn’t cause him any embarrassment.
Before he returned to his seat, I said, “Wait there just a moment.” I stood up to ask the class, “Do you all know the word ‘pounce’?”
Their faces were (not uncommonly) blank, so I looked at the speaker and asked him to translate the word “pounce” into Chinese. He too looked at me blankly. “Pounce.” I said again, “You wrote about your kitten, ‘ready to pounce’.”
I nodded at him waiting for him to register which word I was talking about. His face wrinkled nervously. I began to walk towards him in order to point out “pounce” in the notes that he had written. I was expecting him to respond, “ooOOooh, pownts” in a Chinese accent, revealing to all that the misunderstanding had been because of the way I pronounced the word (the correct way). That kind of thing happens a lot in class.
When I reached him, I looked down at his notebook and gestured for him to open it back up. He did it very slowly and, as I now recognize, reluctantly. He opened his notebook to reveal a page torn from a book.
Our eyes met for a split second, then I awkwardly turned to the class and began to describe the action of pouncing. The whole class knew exactly what had just happened. Maybe my face told them, but I hoped not. I don’t even remember what I said for the next minute of class. My heart was pounding.
Looking back, I wonder why these kinds of things make me so awkward and incapacitated. I think it would all be different if I were dealing with students a couple years younger than myself.
When I taught at Nature’s Classroom, last year, my weakest point was discipline. But by the end of the year, I had learned a great deal and felt I’d made vast improvements in my classroom management. I was no longer giving off the "I invite and encourage you to walk all over me” vibe.
Unfortunately, I feel as though I can’t apply any of what I learned to manage the university students. I guess it just feels rude somehow.
posted by B | 2:53 AM
1 Comments:
Great story to read! Sorry about the cheating incident.
Post a Comment
<< Home