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I work at a private high
school in Japan. That means
hustling for students. There's
really no way around it. Japan has
had a negative rate of population growth since 2007. Many public high schools are just trying to keep their doors
open, which means accepting any student who applies. So the pool of students who need/want to attend a private
school, like the population in general, is decreasing every year. Part of recruiting, at least at my
school, means putting our current students out front and center and giving them
the space to talk about what they like and don't like about the school. I have mixed feelings about the whole
thing. I don't want my students to
have to sell their school. But, to
give credit to my students, they are open and honest, share the good (classes
are fun, the other students are very empathic, etc.) with the bad (the
classwork can be too easy, there are very few clubs to join, etc) and seem to
enjoy meeting the crop of potential first year students.
The last day of work this
year, December 22, we had a school open house. I ran a sample lesson, hoping to show the students some of
the ways they'll learn English if they come to C------ Osaka Campus. During part of the sample lesson, we
played a variation of a "tag" game called Zoom. Zoom is originally a drinking game with
it's own very technical sounding and rather unhelpful Wikipedia entry
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoom_schwartz_profigliano). It's basically a game of tag using
words and gestures instead of running around like mad and physically touching each other.
My simplified take on the
rules of Zoom:
- One student is "it". To pass being "it" to another student, they point and say the word "zoom!"
- Once a new student has become "it" they can then point and say "zoom" to another student and hence pass on the "it".
- A student who has been "zoomed" and is going to be "it" actually has 3 choices:
- They can accept the zoom and pass it on to another student by pointing and saying, "Zoom."
- They can return the "it" to the person who zoomed them by looking at and gesturing back to the zoomer and saying, "Schwartz."
- They can reject being "it" entirely by holding up a hand, avoiding eye-contact with the person who zoomed them and saying, "profigliano."
Like most drinking games,
it's not rocket science (although the Wikipedia page might make it seem as if
it is). It's just a series of actions difficult enough keep people making
errors and hence steadily drinking.
But if you just change the words and modify some the gestures, you end
up with a pretty good way to practice common chunks of language. For example you could play the game
making the following substitutions:
Zoom--> Have some
Shwartz--> You first
Profigliano-->No way/Come on/etc.
It also works pretty well
with auxiliary verbs and various vocabulary which can be substituted for
the underlined words in the examples:
Zoomà Will you cook dinner?
Schwartzà No, you should cook it.
Profiglianoà I can't cook it.
The sample lesson during the
open house went pretty well. Most of the
prospective students left the classroom laughing. As I was moving chairs and desks back into the normal
classroom position, Shi-kun, a first year student volunteer, helped
me out. Shi-kun is a baseball
player. He lifts weights after
school and usually picks up two desks at a time. He doesn't talk much in class, but he's quick to smile. I asked him if he was going to be
working at the ramen shop all winter vacation. When he's not playing sports or training, he puts in a lot
of hours at his part time job.
We talked about his winter
plans, about his boss at the ramen shop, a little baseball. Like usual, he was picking up and
setting down desks about twice as fast as me. It was quiet for a while and then he said, "You know,
I've been thinking maybe I could join the International Course next
year." I set down my desk and
stopped. Shi-kun kept moving
desks. He was looking at the desks
in his hands when he said, "I don't know if I can keep up. But recently, when I take your class,
I've been thinking that it must be good to be a teacher. It looks like so much fun to be in a
classroom with a bunch of high school students and helping them talk in
English." This was the
longest I'd ever heard Shi-kun speak at one time. We finished putting the desks back in place and Shin-kun
said, "I want to be a teacher.
I want to be a high school English teacher."
For a moment I just enjoyed
it. It was one of those moments when being a teacher meant living in a world of pure
potential. When simply speaking a dream turned it into a real possibility. Then I told Shi-kun
that I wanted nothing more than to help him become a high school teacher. And that he didn't have to worry about,
"falling behind," because the road to becoming a teacher was just
that, a road, not a race. And on
this road, there was no behind to worry about.
If Shi-kun decides to be a
teacher, he'll be the third student of mine to become an English teacher. Maybe that sounds like a boast. I hope it doesn't, because it isn't
meant to be. The other two
students of mine who became English teachers were meant to be English teachers
long before I ever met them. They
became English teachers because they loved English and maybe not because of,
but in spite of what I had done in my classroom. But that's not why Shi-kun wants to be an English teacher. For Shin-kun, it isn't English, or it
isn't just English. It's the act of working with students,
of helping teenagers learn. Part
of that is because the students in his class are a little wild and know how to
enjoy a role-play. But a bigger
part of it, I think, is that over the past year, teachers from all over the world
have reached out and helped me be a better teacher, class by class, week by
week. A little bit of what they
have shared with me, what makes them great teachers, has, maybe, found it's way
into my classroom, has translated itself into the "fun" of being,
"in a class with a bunch of high school students." So this post is my way of saying thank
you, thank you to all the teachers who have been there for me, have made 2012
the most personally and professionally satisfying year of teaching in my
life. Thank you for helping my
classes to be the kind of place where a ramen slinging high school baseball
player is willing to share a new dream for the new year.
Thank you (in no particular order):
Michael Griffin: for a gentle nudge to write
stories for my students, being a role model for how to engage in a honest
dialogue with myself, and a hundred thousand other things.
Josette LeBlanc: because now, as often as I can, I take the
time to remember that unless my students feel safe and listened to, no language
learning is going to happen in my classroom.
Rachel Roberts: for showing me how research really does connect
up with the classroom, especially around reading and listening.
Gemma Lunn: All of the material you have put up on the LOL is an inspiration. I've used and recommended fortune tellers a handful of times alone. And I will be using a station based teaching class to cram three lessons worth of fun into my next 45 minute International Course pre-course lesson.
Sophia Khan (@SophiaKhan4): for
taking the time to help me wrap my head around some of the language teaching
jargon that was getting in the way of teaching, and the chance to publish on
lit in the classroom, and
Laura Phelps: for the best written blog around and
reminding me that anything that happens in a class can be a source of laughter
as well as worry.
Anne Hendler: for asking questions, for posting about
things other than English because teachers who only talk/write about English are sure to run out of gas before the year is finished, and for
the gift of the laughing journal.
Christopher Wilson: because sometimes I forgot why I blogged, but when
I did, your blog was always there to remind me, with fresh ways to think about
what it means to teach.
Alex Grevett: for the regular reminders that
pronunciation is one of the other things that matter, even if I try mightily to
forget that fact from time to time.
John Pfordresher: passion can't exist in a vacuum,
like fire, it needs oxygen to breathe.
Your blog and the ESL Learner Output Library have been a much needed
dose of oxygen.
Vicky Loras:
for reminding me how much I love poetry and being the glue that seems to hold
the twitter universe together.
Leo Selivan:
for the idea of highlighting chunks of language in a text, useful tips on using
corpus, and keeping me think about words in use.
Mura Nava: for showing me how different and how similar
it is to teach a group of Engineering students in France and my own experience
teaching here in Japan (and that place hacking lesson plan was the bomb).
Kevin Giddens: because less can be so much more.
Tyson Seburn: for introducing me to the idea of reading circles, and
getting me thinking about LGBT issues (which I hope has helped make my classroom a safer place to be for my students).
Barbara Sakamoto: for a million ideas that all remind me that
what works for teaching children (generating interest, being genuine, caring)
will work and is needed for teaching adults and giving our community the gift
of a teaching village.
Sandy Millin: for a primer on Cuisenaire rods,
rearranging your classroom and at least 2 great new ideas a week.
And of course
Chuck Sandy, John Fanselow,
Steven Herder and the rest of the team over at iTDi for
a chance to use my voice and listen to a world full of amazing teachers.
I'm sure I have forgotten
people. If I did, I hope no
offense will be taken. I thank
every teacher, writer, educator and parent who has reached out to me this
year. I hope a poor memory on my
part won't get in the way of what is meant to be, while genuine, a far from
perfect expression of gratitude.
