Site of Reversible Destiny
...written on 11.12.01, @ 1:57 a.m.
Sun November 12, 2001
I had been dreading last Friday's class since I had seen it on my schedule way before Ivan left.
Yoro, I had heard from both Chad and Ivan, was the branch from hell. Yasuyo herself had also told me frightening tales of uncivilized disobedience. The week before John had gone there to teach a class of 7th graders and had staunchly refused to trade his Friday class with my Yoro 8th grade class.
So, for the past two weeks I have been researching discipline texts and classroom management and psychology sites, trying to get an idea of how to handle things.
On the appointed day, I got into the car with Yasuyo and we headed off towards the mountains that bordered Ogaki on the west. I tried to calm myself with the pastel streaks of sunset and wondered how I could be in such a state over two classes of EIGHTH GRADERS! I mean, I was bigger than most of them, wasn't I? And as John always says, the most it can be is an hour and a half of pain, which isn't really much considering the big picture, now is it?
As we turned into the graveled parking lot guarded by an arching metal sign proclaiming our school name, I chuckled to myself at how much it looked like a ranch. I had brought some interesting materials with me, but was I really ready for the wild, wild, west?
We got out of the car, and as Yasuyo turned from the task of locking and closing her car door, she saw me running for the ranch gate with my bags hoisted high for optimum escape performance.
"Kim!" she shouted. "You must come back here! You must teach tonight!"
I skidded to a guilty stop in a cloud of gravel and dust and looked first at Yasuyo and then at Kahma Home Center across the street. Hmmm, I thought, considering the options. Twenty-six unruly, unappreciative kids that think English is the scourge language of the earth and will look upon me as a fresh meat substitute teacher or 1 square kilometer of home decorating items on which to spend all of my disposable income? Pffffbt, no contest!
"Oh, all right!" I said with resignation as I returned to the front stoop kicking my feet like a dejected second grader.
I gave myself a tour of the inside and upon finding the classrooms to be a good size and the bathroom to be clean, sat down in the office to have a snack for dinner. I hammered out the details of my lesson plan for that evening and made the appropriate copies and gathered all the necessary equipment.
Yasuyo was teaching a class of elementary students and I poked my head into the class and she introduced me. They didn't look so bad at that age, I wonder what happens in that one short year between sixth and seventh grade that curdles them? Ah yes, junior high school and its accompanying pressure to perform on life altering scholastic tests happens.
At 6:50, the eighth graders started arriving. One thing I have found that helps is to "press the flesh" before class, so as the students were flipping off their shoes and sliding into their slippers, I was there saying "Good Evening" , "Hello" etc. I watched their facial expressions carefully, trying to judge positive or negative inclinations. As more and more arrived, I started humming to myself the mantra I made up at lunch time: "This will be a great class. I am full of love for Yoro students. This will be a great class."
At 7 pm, I entered classroom #1. Yasuyo had made up paper tent name tags for the students and had them put them on their desks. She requested that all the students stand for the ritual bow and then, it was my turn.
Since this was my first time at Yoro, I started with my self-intro and accompanying word match. As I told them things about me (and elicited answers about themselves), they were to match a word with the correct phrase, for example: Georgia------Where is Kim from? On the back of the word match I had a word search for them to locate some of the same words.
I was very happy to see the results of my Japanese pop music poll. Many of the students raised their hands in agreement with my own proclamation in my self-intro of my favorite Japanese band. So, while they were doing the word search, I pressed the CD boombox play button and the opening strains of my secret weapon sent excited titters through the blue jumpsuited crowd. Yes, it was the long awaited, one day old release of "Chemistry", a duo that had catapulted to fame after winning a talent contest.
While the students were busy with the puzzle, I wrote the target sentences of the night on the board and prepared my instructions. Some of the students weren't finished with the puzzle when I said "stop" and were a little slow to get back into the swing (I learned something there) of the new activity.
I taught them the target sentence and we practiced the stress and intonation of it. The students smiled as I snapped my fingers to "the beat of English" and got them to repeat the squished sound of the words.
After the class, I shook every student's hand and thanked them for their time and attention. It was GREAT!! All of my limbs were intact! And the students were using the target structures correctly and creating ones on their own. Yipppee!
The second class was a little larger and a little rowdier, but the rough elements settled down with a couple of smiling proddings.
In the car, Yasuyo and I both admitted to being tired, but we agreed that the evening went very well.
I was very happy that I had ridden the Yoro bull and didn't get bucked off.