1.13.2010
I never had very much luck with high school girls; not in high school, not in college (not that I tried, of course), and certainly not now. Wait, that didn’t sound quite right. Before you accuse me of gross misconduct, let me assure you that my current problems are nothing extra-curricular, if you know what I mean. For my employer’s sake, I’ll be perfectly blunt (Hi Anna!): I AM STRUGGLING TO TEACH MY SENIOR FEMALE STUDENTS.

It’s nothing new, really; they’ve been a bit of a hassle from day one. Hell, they’ve been hassling me since my own freshman year of high school. But while my female classmates in secondary school could have benefitted from talking significantly less, the problem is predictably the opposite here. I try to start a little oral practice on the boys’ side of the classroom (they self-separate), and it moves along well enough until the green shirts of the uniforms start to give out to yellow blouses, the black hole of energy the girls create on their side of the room. This isn’t true for all of my classes, but the lower levels really struggle with this. I’m trying to make it fun, but they don’t make it easy.

1.17.2010
Well, America, we asked for chocolate and snacks, and you totally came through. We feel wealthy with high-calorie treats, and we thank you from the bottom of our stomachs. We think we’re pretty set now for food, so please don’t send any more, because we would hate to waste anything. However, if you feel irresistibly compelled to use the USPS one more time before it goes under, any kind of preserved meat, your basic salami or summer sausage, would be welcome in our pantry. They add a little spice to our weekend pasta. Thanks America!

1.19.2010
I asked my students to try to inject a little excitement in their writing by including more details, but instead, the girls just flipped over the lower-case “i” in their stories to an exclamation point. !. Which, of course, would be f!ne, !f !t didn’t drive me COMPLETELY NUTS. MaYbE ! sHoUlD sHoW tHeM hOw To WrItE lIkE tH!S. It certainly gets the blood pumping.

I think one of the toughest parts of teaching for me is explaining directions for activities. I think I’m fairly proficient in it by this point, and yet, no matter how clear, deliberate and methodical I try to be, there are inevitably at least a couple of students who do precisely the opposite of what I intended. The most frustrating cases are with the kids who understand English fairly well, and clearly have just not listened to a word I was saying, instead staring vacantly at a spot above my head somewhere as if I were explaining nuclear physics. No, kids, for the fourth time, I’m just showing you how to fold a piece of paper into thirds.

What’s that? You LOST the paper I gave you four minutes ago? And Marcus, this is folded into sixteenths, not thirds. Awesome. I mean, I just spent 15 minutes of my life repeatedly demonstrating how to do this, but no worries. Please excuse me while I throw a desk through the window.

I know it might be boring, but if it’s such simple stuff, why do they always screw it up? I'm not really this impatient, don't worry, but it does build up from time to time.

1.30.2010
Last week we attended our principal’s birthday. It was an event mostly without distinction – the standard singing approach, most of the staff and a couple of students leading a charge into the principal’s apartment with a ukulele, singing traditional Marshallese birthday songs and clapping along. Peter and I had heard about this only a few minutes earlier, and since our apartment is about seven strides from the principal’s, we tagged along at the end of the singing procession. Actually, to be totally honest, Peter had just removed two trays of beautiful whole-wheat biscuits from the oven, and when I suggested it was time we join the celebration, he was rather firm: “Morgan, hell no. I’m having a [expletive] biscuit while they’re hot.” He was right, they looked amazing, so I went over to the party and represented 4-B while he enjoyed the fruits (grains?) of his labors. [Dr. and Mrs. Shellito, don’t worry about your son, he only curses at me when something gets between him and fresh bread]

The only incident of note was at the party. As about 15 people gathered in the principal’s living room, still singing, the birthday boy came out and sat down in the traditional seat of honor, all smiles. When the singing finally stopped, he said, “Wow, I am so surprised!” He repeatedly insisted upon this. Two minutes later, his wife came out of the kitchen bearing a platter with about 80 Fudgee Bars, a locally popular Little Debbie-esque snack from the Philippines. We estimated that they ended up dispensing at least 120 of these little cakes, each of which contains 40% of your daily recommended saturated fat. Judging by the numbers he had on hand, either he wasn’t actually surprised, or he keeps an enormous stockpile of Fudgee Bars, just in case he suddenly gets the urge to eat 4800% of his saturated fat allowance.

1.30.2010
This past week, Jaluit High School has been doing some surveys of its students as part of its School Improvement Plan. They asked the kids what needs to change in the “comments” section. I chose the best responses, and they ranged from funny, to a little scary, to kind of sad/inspiring (grammar and spelling are verbatim):

“Yes, I think this school should let us some time for bwebwenato [chatting/hanging out] with our girl or boyfriends. That is all.”
“I don’t like the rule. This school is like a prison to me. From now on civil war is started. ‘Watch your ass!’”
“School food should be big enough”
“I really want the Ministy to keep track of the way each teacher works at school, whether they are doing their jobs the way they should. If not then immediately dismiss them from teaching. I say this because I see a lot of this issue going on today at JHS. There are many “fake” teachers here and I hate to go to their classes. They should be fired!”
“I don’t want to be treat like a little baby who had just been born a moment ago, teachers had to work nicely and fairly.”
“More foods to make stomach strorng brains also.”
“I need you to help to improve me, no me only, but other students. If you need me I’m ready.”

Leaning Into the Wind

1.4.2010 Monday
It appears that a number of my students have gained a few pounds over the past two weeks. I guess it’s comforting to know that that particular Christmas tradition holds true wherever it’s celebrated. I wonder if Jesus thought his birthday would still be celebrated 2000 years later by hundreds of millions of the faithful getting bloated and waddling to church. All in all, I can think of much worse legacies to leave.

1.8.2010 Friday
Well, they told us this was the windy season, and they weren’t lying! After almost daily rainstorms during the second half of December, the skies dried up and the wind came and hasn’t let up. It’s a lot cooler on average, but there are a few below-neutral side effects as well. The first run I went on with Peter upon our return seemed easier than I had anticipated initially; we hadn’t done much besides eating and having the occasional beer for two weeks, but the first half seemed fine, heading south down toward the airport.

We hit the end of the runway and turned around, and suddenly, instead of the pleasant prevailing breeze from the north to which I have grown accustomed, I felt like I was standing behind a jet preparing to take off. Every stride I took, it seemed I was losing a step before I hit the ground again. Peter, essentially a fitter, more aerodynamic version of me, turned his baseball cap backwards and jaunted off into the sunset as I gasped and wheezed in the headwind. Killin’ me.

Additionally: the cross-breeze in my room, normally a blessing during the hot months, takes on new malevolent fury in this windy season, making classroom decorations nearly impossible to maintain. Every thing that can catch wind does, and I come in every morning and my room looks like it has been trashed. I’ve given up the battle as lost, so for now, the beautiful posters of my mom’s paintings are coming down, until nature’s wrath is spent. The class contract has ended up on the floor, as well, and shockingly, my students are acting…well, exactly the same.

1.14.2010 Thursday
Last night, laying on my bed with my eyes open, thinking about my students and classes, I realized I unconsciously assign each of my units, and each of my classes, a metaphor. Whether it’s definite and indefinite articles, count and non-count nouns, or peer editing, each takes the form of a three-mast sailing ship in my head. Additionally, it may not be this clear, but the group of kids determines the quality of ship; my best class appears as a sturdy and maneuverable frigate, able to take anything I throw at them and change directions easily, while my slowest group can hardly get from point A to point B, a flimsy, lumbering Man O’ War Made in China.

Each unit is like a voyage across the ocean, and now that I think of it, I guess that makes me Poseidon. So I, God of the Oceans, throw a unit at them (keep a weather eye, kids; here be the place that the metaphor totally breaks down), and do my best to guide them to the end. Or perhaps I’m the captain, trying to get a little freaking work out of a mutinous crew. I wonder if keelhauling would be looked down upon in this seafaring nation of theirs.

At the end of the unit, the ship is usually limping into harbor with tattered sails, although occasionally there is a triumphant entrance at full sail. If the subject was tough and the class was 11C (my slowest), upon taking the unit test the ship might sink with all hands in the harbor…the best attitude to take in this situation is to forget about the failures of the past and look into raising a new crew. Onward and upward!