Wednesday
of last week (October 17) proved to be a very interesting day of teaching.
First, I must say that I truly love all my classes and students. They are a
lively group who I have genuinely taken an interest in, and I believe the
feeling is mutual. However, one must remember that these are high school
students. That begin said, here’s how my day went.
My first
class of the day on Wednesday is two 40 minute periods of my largest class.
Classes are labeled 10A, 10B, 10C, and 10D. I see 10D on Wednesdays for two
periods back-to-back with a ten minute break in between. (Don’t ask about the
schedule; I’m still trying to figure it out. But, I don’t see the same class at
the same time throughout the week ….ever. Yeah, it’s complicated.)
This group,
10D, has 24 students. These are the students who have decided not to take
science or math the remainder of their high school career. An interesting
choice, as many students at TAC plan to go into math or science related fields:
doctors, dentists, engineers. Not 10D;
these students are more interested in the arts. Yet, some of these students are
not quite as interested in the arts; they are just looking for less work. So an
interesting mix is born.
One
particularly clever student has earned a seat right up front. His cleverness
and sarcasm has proven his intelligence, yet he is still learning the fine
balance of when to unleash his mouth and when to keep quiet. Needless-to-say, I
asked him to stay after the bell to discuss his interruptions. He told me “No.”
Never a wise decision, so I asked him to
meet me in the hallway. Again, “No.” I asked one more time for him to come to
my office which is five steps away from where we are standing. “No.”
Referral.
And he is not welcome in my class until we have a conversation. Life is all
about choices.
I find the
dean, explain the situation, write the referral, and the student spends time in
the dean’s office for the next class period. As class begins, students ask where their peer
is; I ignore their questions, and we continue with the lesson as planned. (He and I have since talked and are again on good terms. Wise man.)
Fast
forward to the last two lessons of the day – I have 10C for two 40 minute
periods at the end of the day on Wednesday. Today, they are taking a vocabulary
quiz in the first lesson and reviewing for their upcoming exam in the second
lesson.
In typical
Turkish fashion, 10C has had difficulty remaining quiet during a quiz. Last
week I gave two students zeros for talking during the quiz. This apparently hasn't deterred the class as they continue to talk during the quiz. From what I
can tell, the talking isn't about the quiz; it’s about borrowing lead,
borrowing an eraser, asking about another assignment. Whatever the topic, the
talking needs to stop.
In hopes of
quieting them and teaching them a lesson, I keep them one minute into their
break. I explain that we’ll be practicing being quiet. They are not happy.
Neither am I. I want them to be quiet during a quiz. They begrudgingly pass the one minute
of silence and head to their break a minute later than their peers.
It’s time
to start the second lesson. I notice there is a bit of a difference as they
come back from break. The
bell rings. “Are there any questions over the poem?”
I ask.
Silence.
“Really?
Wow. This class is smarter than the other grade 10s. They told me this poem was
harder than the last one. No questions?”
They stare
at their papers.
“Good. I’m
glad you are going to do so well on the exam.” I go around the room checking to
see who has their poem. Most have not finished analyzing it. It is a difficult
poem (William Blake’s “The Tiger”).
I can tell
the silence is getting to some of them. They are starting to look to the
student who has made the decision for the class not to talk to me. Dissension among the ranks. I take full advantage
of the opportunity.
“I’m so
glad there are no questions as the exam is worth 100 points. It is by far the
largest assignment we will have this grading period. You all are going to do so
well.” I finish circulating, sit down at my desk, rifle through my notes. Wait.
One brave
student raises her hand. “Yes?” I ask.
“Is the
poem really only one stanza?”
“That is a
great question! I wish I could answer it for you, but maybe your peers could
help you.” All heads dart toward the one student. Murmurs have now become loud rumblings.
I wait.
“Oh, do you
all need a minute? I’ll just step out into the hallway while you all talk.” I
leave the classroom and shut the door. I time one minute on my watch.
My dean
walks past. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. Just
doing a little teaching.”
He raises one eyebrow at me. Luckily the minute is over, and I must go back in the
classroom before he can ask me anymore questions. I knock before I enter.
Multiple students’ shouts can be heard. “Come in!” they yell.
“Any
questions about the poem?” I cannot see the back wall as so many hands are in
the air. Class resumes, and all students participate.
Yeah. I’ve
arrived.
*Reading back through this post, I know it sounds boastful. But, I'm really proud of myself here as I should be. I was informed that I am the first foreign teacher to successfully handle a silent protest. Me: 1 Students 0.
