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Each of my twelve different classes has 50 students. I teach only three of the six grades at my school. I am teaching at only one of at least five primary schools (1st-6th grade) in my village of Yantian district. There are several other villages in the district, and there are several districts in the city. The point? There are lots of kids in China.
Of course, this means that funding beneficial education for all those students can be a bit of a headache. One way that China helps this economic quandary is to not make high school mandatory. High schools recruit students, and every prospective high school student needs to pass an absurd amount of tests to have their applications considered. This is high school. Not university.
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Ubiquitous Chinese Picture Pose |
Especially in regards to humanitarian pursuits (e.g. becoming a teacher), Western thinking precludes loosing sight of of an individual's tragedy. And so I cannot lose sight of how this tragedy reiterates itself hundreds of times in my students.
There are many comparable circumstances around the globe. I spent much time at The University of Michigan learning about and advocating against the prison industrial complex that leeches out many forgotten and derelict youth--a brief plug for a friend and esteemed professor's book.
Some may argue that these youth (American or Chinese) are just lucky to get any education as compared with the millions deprived as much around the world. To me, this justification is cruel, dismissive, and offensively illogical. Apples and oranges.
I also struggle to engage the kids because of their apathy for English and their frustration with their education (and possibly their lives). English is a novelty language here. It sounds silly to them. Foreigners are as stare-worthy as a streaker.
Why should I demand their attention? After seeing choke marks on a student's neck and regularly seeing tens of students show-up for classes with split lips and black eyes, how could I possibly be angry with them for misbehaving in my class? For challenging my authority? For disrespecting their peers?
I asked a colleague I trust if there was anything we could do about these students who are clearly coming from abusive situations:
"Does it happen at school?"
"I do not know. I think this is happening at their homes."
She immediately averted her gaze. "Ah. Then this is private matter. Too troublesome."
"Oh." We returned to our desks and pretended to work: I wondered whether there was anything I could do despite this rejected alliance, and I presume she did what she could to forget about the situation so as not to create unnecessary and disharmonious trouble.
So far, the tally against the students: bleak futures, overcrowded classrooms, and harsh traditions.
Comic Book Fair |
I was once encouraged to literally throw misbehaving students out of class, but I stopped this practice once I realized what was happening everywhere in their lives. I refuse to be another grinding cog in the processor that is pulverizing their spirits and passions.
Now, I focus on creating a fun and light-hearted environment for them to practice what English they do know. I play lots of games with them and have recently taken to watching fun[ny] English film clips. I play a game in which I make a hoop with my arms, and they can pretend to be shooting a mini basketball when they are actually just throwing it at my face as hard as they can.
But what of those children who still misbehave and disrespect? At what point does my sympathy and endless compassion meet frustration and knowledge that their misbehavior cannot become a model for the rest of the class? Granted, my frustration stems from both their disrespect as well as my disappointment in myself for punishing students who regularly receive the brunt of their communities' frustrations. I hate the pride I feel when I find the way to communicate with a student in such a way that their mischievous (albeit disrespectful) smile turns to stony, down-arching, and fearful grimaces. Today, I made a child read from Google Translator: "I have shamed myself. I have shamed my class. I have shamed my teacher. I have shamed my family." This may seem really harsh in how manipulative the words are, but in a culture that values "face" and values avoiding shame this punishment rang true. Also, the alternative with this particular student who regularly disrupts and distracts was to call his family or to involve another teacher--both being risks to the child's physical and mental health.
Obstacles for students: bleak futures, overcrowding, tradition, culture.
And while my school finds it in their budget to treat all its faculty to spa treatments on Monday nights, not all classrooms have chalk or erasers. Some students do not even have paper. Many kids lie about this, but at least 1/5th of my students do not have paper or backpacks. This level of poverty and misallocation of resources almost guarantees that the students will be the next torch bearers in their parents' legacy of working in the factories.
If anyone has advice on comforting or counseling children who may be abused, please let me know.
Escaping |
E,
ReplyDeleteI admire you and am proud of you for your insight and strength of conviction to guide your restraint, for your emotional sophistication and conscious awareness in confronting your own frustration, your heartfelt compassion for your young charges, your maturity to seek appropriate compromise, and your relentless creativity to find a productive educational middle ground.
/p-onion