The students shuffle into the classroom- there is a flurry of activity. In theory, Exercise Time flows gracefully into Sharing Time, which launches cheerfully into Breakfast Time which leaps happily into English Time. We have only 15 minutes in which to have Sharing Time, but unfortunately students also must use this time to do a multitude of other activities.
First, there are a great many students who are sweaty after exercise time and they must change their shirts. I don't recall ever having done this in school when I was a child. Perhaps I did. All I know is, in Taiwan, if a kid gets sweaty (which they often do in the humidity and heat) that shirt is getting changed. I once changed one child 4 times in one day.
So there are at least 10 children getting their shirts changed, with varying degrees of independence. This means more work for my long-suffering Taiwanese co-teacher. Again, she's a saint and a savior all rolled in to one.
Also, the sweaty kids need their hair dried. This is another thing I never remember doing in America, but in Taiwan, every classroom is equipped with a hair-dryer, and every sweaty little head gets dried. It makes for interesting voice-inflection when teaching:
“Good Morning Monkey Class! Let's (blow dryer goes on) TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER TODAY! WHO WANTS TO GO (blow dryer off) to the window and tell us what the (blow dryer on) WEATHER LOOKS LIKE?!?”
There is also the on-going activity of water/tea drinking, nose wiping, back pack unloading and bathroom-going. Occasionally, there's some vomit, urine or blood.
Sharing time is a time when you talk about the weather, the date and days of the week and months of the year, greetings, and every month there's a new 'conversation' to learn. I often skipped the conversation (bad teacher!) because I thought they were lame. Also Hess had prescribed songs to go with different activities, but often I didn't like their songs and rather than fiddling with a cd player I'd just have them sing songs that I remembered from my childhood.
For the most part I tried to stick to the Hess curriculum but sharing time is the time where I would cheat a little. Instead of doing the prescribed conversation from the teachers guide, I would let students have 'free talk'. I feel that this is an area sadly lacking in Hess curriculum. I think students need time to try to talk and find their words and express themselves in English- in a natural and original way. I can see why Hess doesn't leave more time for this- It is easy for things to get off topic and out of control. But I really felt it was worthwhile. I saw myself as hopefully combating a wide-spread problem I'd witnessed in Taiwan- Students with a very strong grasp of grammar, reading, and writing, but very poor speaking skills. Even worse- students who can parrot anything you say, but can't come up with an original sentence to save their damn lives.
“Free-talk” went kind of like this. I would pick a student who was sitting nicely and invite him or her to come up to the front of the room. Usually they opted to sit on my lap. Then I would ask them a series of questions- Some Hess curriculum questions and then some non-Hess curriculum questions that would require that they put together their English knowledge and try to figure out what I was getting at.
“Hi Harrison,” I'd say, usually disguising my voice to make it interesting, “How do you feel?” (Hess question)
“I feel happy,” says Harrison. Then Harrison would sit completely still, waiting. He knew what was coming.
I'd bounce him like crazy on my knees while tickling him and repeat, “Oh, you feel happy, that's so great!” in my best sort of Oscar the Grouch voice.
Then, “Harrison, what day is today?” (Hess question)
“Today is Monday,”
Bounce bounce bounce. All of the other students would be laughing like crazy.
Then, “Harrison, what did you do yesterday?” (non-Hess question)
Harrison might have to sit and think about this for a moment. Maybe the other students would start calling things out. Or I would whisper in their ears “Did you see Mommy and Daddy?”
“Yes I see Mommy and Daddy,”
I would whisper, “You saw Mommy and Daddy?”
and he'd say, “Yes, I saw Mommy and Daddy.”
Then bounces and tickles. I'd say that the rest of the kids were about 80% tuned in- for some reason they loved to see their classmates get bounced and tickled like crazy. And I'd like to think that they were absorbing some of the nuances of natural speech. Some kids were more creative- they didn't just do yes or no answers. I had one little guy called Austin who was fond of acting out large portions of his favorite TV show- or was it a video game? I never really was sure. But the great thing was that he would fill in the bits he could say in English and then the rest was wild gestures and sound effects. For example: “There big dog!!!! Big big big big dog!!” To which I or the students could ask "What color was it?" or "Was it a mean dog or a nice dog?" (being sure to convey with my body language and facial expression what mean and nice mean) then Austin would go into a series of sounds (a jet? a big truck? birds?)
I'd make guesses and encourage the children to guess what he was saying (which they'd often try to do in Chinese and I'd encourage them to try in English). Was it irresponsible for me to do this rather than the prescribed Hess conversations? Maybe, but I don't really regret it. Those were some good times and I think it contributed to my students vocabulary and their sense of natural speech. Usually we could go through 3 or 4 kids before the class's attention would begin to wander off. Of course all of the students wanted to be the one to answer questions and we didn't have time for all of them. Sometimes if a student was really upset he didn't get a turn, I'd write his name on the board and promise his turn would be the next day.
There were a bunch of other activities I would do during sharing time. I really wish I'd introduced some type of 'show and tell' but I think it might have been tough to introduce that with out raising the suspicions of Hess management. Lessons were laid out in the teachers guide by 5 minute increments. At first I thought this was more of a guideline than a literal thing- but then I had my 1 month evaluation and really followed the lesson plan except I didn't play one of the sharing time songs - and got docked points on my evaluation because of it. So any of my own ideas had to be done under the radar.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Breakfast
I'd end sharing time by asking a child what song he wanted to sing (roughly half the time it was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, I have no idea why...) and after we sang it, I'd say, "Alright, it's time to go get your pink bowls then line up!"
Hess provides bowls and utensils for each child. My co-teacher was amazing, she somehow got all of those children to be able to quickly get their bowl and set it up at their place on the tables. They could also get their shoes, toothbrushes, art smocks, etc. in a timely manner. These kids were 3 and 4 years old, and there were 22 of them. My co-teacher was a modern miracle of efficiency. I can not praise that woman highly enough.
So all of the children would scatter to go get their bowls.
I would stand by the board and when a child had their bowl on the table and was in line, I would give them a 'star' and publicly commend their speediness.
I had taken a picture of each kid on my first day teaching them, and under their picture was their name. Under their name was a box. I would put 'stars' in the box when they did something good.
A part of me kind of hated being part of this machine that communicates to children that their worth hinges on how well they follow directions/please other people etc., but in a classroom of 22 kids, you've got to have some form of rewards system. These kids lived and died by their 'stars'. Often when I noticed a child wasn't paying attention, I could see that they were silently counting their 'stars'. For every five stars they got during a day, they would get a sticker. Some kids went home with 3 stickers nearly every day.
Fairly quickly I replaced the regular 'star' with letters. Every day we'd choose a word of the day, for example 'trees' or 'water'. I liked to use five letter words cause it made for easier counting at the end of the day when I was doling out stickers. I also tried to use words that were at least somewhat phonetic because then I could reinforce the sounds that went with the letters.
Anyways I'd say something like, 'Oh my goodness, look at Oscar! He got his bowl out and he is first in line! Now Oscar already has 3 stars. He has a 't' an 'r' and an 'e'. Wow Oscar!!!! He almost has the word tree!" and so on. I wanted to use the kids natural obsession with the stars to reinforce other concepts that we were learning. By the time I left many children were already sounding out words on their own (at age 3 or 4, in their second language). Kids are amazing.
After the kids were lined up, we went to the bathroom- usually pretending to be an airplane, car, frog or dog on the way. Of course the bathroom time was more time to learn- while the kids were waiting or washing their hands we would talk about colors they could see, shapes they could see, etc.
Then we'd all go back to the classroom for breakfast. While they ate I'd try to model as much natural language as I could, and sometimes would work individually with kids who were falling behind. (nothin like learning english vocab with a mouth full of cereal!)
I'm not going to lie-sometimes I would get so sick of my own voice that I wanted to gag myself. But I only had 2-2 and a half hours 5 days a week with these kids, and the key to learning a second language is exposure. So it pretty much means talking all day. whoo.
Hess provides bowls and utensils for each child. My co-teacher was amazing, she somehow got all of those children to be able to quickly get their bowl and set it up at their place on the tables. They could also get their shoes, toothbrushes, art smocks, etc. in a timely manner. These kids were 3 and 4 years old, and there were 22 of them. My co-teacher was a modern miracle of efficiency. I can not praise that woman highly enough.
So all of the children would scatter to go get their bowls.
I would stand by the board and when a child had their bowl on the table and was in line, I would give them a 'star' and publicly commend their speediness.
I had taken a picture of each kid on my first day teaching them, and under their picture was their name. Under their name was a box. I would put 'stars' in the box when they did something good.
A part of me kind of hated being part of this machine that communicates to children that their worth hinges on how well they follow directions/please other people etc., but in a classroom of 22 kids, you've got to have some form of rewards system. These kids lived and died by their 'stars'. Often when I noticed a child wasn't paying attention, I could see that they were silently counting their 'stars'. For every five stars they got during a day, they would get a sticker. Some kids went home with 3 stickers nearly every day.
Fairly quickly I replaced the regular 'star' with letters. Every day we'd choose a word of the day, for example 'trees' or 'water'. I liked to use five letter words cause it made for easier counting at the end of the day when I was doling out stickers. I also tried to use words that were at least somewhat phonetic because then I could reinforce the sounds that went with the letters.
Anyways I'd say something like, 'Oh my goodness, look at Oscar! He got his bowl out and he is first in line! Now Oscar already has 3 stars. He has a 't' an 'r' and an 'e'. Wow Oscar!!!! He almost has the word tree!" and so on. I wanted to use the kids natural obsession with the stars to reinforce other concepts that we were learning. By the time I left many children were already sounding out words on their own (at age 3 or 4, in their second language). Kids are amazing.
After the kids were lined up, we went to the bathroom- usually pretending to be an airplane, car, frog or dog on the way. Of course the bathroom time was more time to learn- while the kids were waiting or washing their hands we would talk about colors they could see, shapes they could see, etc.
Then we'd all go back to the classroom for breakfast. While they ate I'd try to model as much natural language as I could, and sometimes would work individually with kids who were falling behind. (nothin like learning english vocab with a mouth full of cereal!)
I'm not going to lie-sometimes I would get so sick of my own voice that I wanted to gag myself. But I only had 2-2 and a half hours 5 days a week with these kids, and the key to learning a second language is exposure. So it pretty much means talking all day. whoo.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The rest of a kindy lesson
Okay I'm getting sick of the long descriptions of a kindy lesson and I'm not sure anybody wants to read it in that much detail anyways.
Basically after breakfast we'd begin English Time. I'd usually start by singing a song to get them all settled together, then we'd go into the new vocabulary. Each week maybbe 5-7 new words were introduced, along with a new sentence pattern. For example: "How do you go to school?" to which they answered "I go to school by schoolbus (or bicycle, car, scooter, etc.) After the first day when I introduced the words and the correct pronunciation for them, I would pretty much let the kids take turns 'teaching'. They would go up, holding the flashcards, and say "How do you go to school?" and the class would answer together "I go to school by (whatever's on the flashcard)". The kids paid attention well because they wanted to be the next 'little teacher'.
3 or 4 kids could be little teacher, doing 3 flashcards each, then we'd play a game.
After that, there was a song about the new sentence pattern and vocab words. These songs come on a Hess cd. They're usually pretty decent- however any hess teacher will wake up singing these songs in their head, go to sleep with them in your head, ride your scooter with the songs in your head, etc. Occupational hazard.
We'd do another bathroom break, then come back for either numbers or letters. (letters mon weds fri, numbers tues thurs) This involved a lot of chanting "AA, ah ah ah this is an apple" etc. Usually after a day or two of introducing a new letter, I'd play a game in which I held flashcards for the new letters behind my back, wrote a childs name on the board and had them come up and pick a flashcard. Then I'd erase the first letter of their name and re-write it using the new letter. for example 'Judy' became 'Rudy'. The kids adored this game and I think it's one of the main reasons that they really got the point that each letter makes a different sound.
After letters or numbers there was another song and then there was 'story time' with a Hess story book. The books were okay but a lot of times I would bring in my own childrens book- because you were supposed to read the same book every day for a month, bleh. (of course at this point I didn't know about the 'I Love Reading' competition, in which students recited the hess books.)
After story time another bathroom break, then 'fun time' which could take a lot of preparation time. Usually it was time for an art or craft.
Hess provides a 'fun time' book with lots of great ideas for fun time activities. However, if I did all of those I would have spent hours and hours in preparation and lots of my own money since my branch wouldn't buy fun time materials. So I ended up using the time to practice performances, I love reading, etc. (I'll explain I love reading and performances later) I also made obstacle courses for the children to do- with trampolines and balance beams and balls and hula hoops etc. They loved that, and since I feel that the typical Hess child gets too little exercise/play time, I made this a priority.
Anyways, that's a kindy lesson. every day, five days a week, 2 - 2 and a half hours a day.
I loved kindy, and I actually think the Hess kindy curriculum is pretty decent. but I wish I'd had a little more freedom to do things my own way (my friends who taught kindy at other schools did have more freedom and I believe their kids learned more natural english as a result.)
Basically after breakfast we'd begin English Time. I'd usually start by singing a song to get them all settled together, then we'd go into the new vocabulary. Each week maybbe 5-7 new words were introduced, along with a new sentence pattern. For example: "How do you go to school?" to which they answered "I go to school by schoolbus (or bicycle, car, scooter, etc.) After the first day when I introduced the words and the correct pronunciation for them, I would pretty much let the kids take turns 'teaching'. They would go up, holding the flashcards, and say "How do you go to school?" and the class would answer together "I go to school by (whatever's on the flashcard)". The kids paid attention well because they wanted to be the next 'little teacher'.
3 or 4 kids could be little teacher, doing 3 flashcards each, then we'd play a game.
After that, there was a song about the new sentence pattern and vocab words. These songs come on a Hess cd. They're usually pretty decent- however any hess teacher will wake up singing these songs in their head, go to sleep with them in your head, ride your scooter with the songs in your head, etc. Occupational hazard.
We'd do another bathroom break, then come back for either numbers or letters. (letters mon weds fri, numbers tues thurs) This involved a lot of chanting "AA, ah ah ah this is an apple" etc. Usually after a day or two of introducing a new letter, I'd play a game in which I held flashcards for the new letters behind my back, wrote a childs name on the board and had them come up and pick a flashcard. Then I'd erase the first letter of their name and re-write it using the new letter. for example 'Judy' became 'Rudy'. The kids adored this game and I think it's one of the main reasons that they really got the point that each letter makes a different sound.
After letters or numbers there was another song and then there was 'story time' with a Hess story book. The books were okay but a lot of times I would bring in my own childrens book- because you were supposed to read the same book every day for a month, bleh. (of course at this point I didn't know about the 'I Love Reading' competition, in which students recited the hess books.)
After story time another bathroom break, then 'fun time' which could take a lot of preparation time. Usually it was time for an art or craft.
Hess provides a 'fun time' book with lots of great ideas for fun time activities. However, if I did all of those I would have spent hours and hours in preparation and lots of my own money since my branch wouldn't buy fun time materials. So I ended up using the time to practice performances, I love reading, etc. (I'll explain I love reading and performances later) I also made obstacle courses for the children to do- with trampolines and balance beams and balls and hula hoops etc. They loved that, and since I feel that the typical Hess child gets too little exercise/play time, I made this a priority.
Anyways, that's a kindy lesson. every day, five days a week, 2 - 2 and a half hours a day.
I loved kindy, and I actually think the Hess kindy curriculum is pretty decent. but I wish I'd had a little more freedom to do things my own way (my friends who taught kindy at other schools did have more freedom and I believe their kids learned more natural english as a result.)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
consider me therapied
I cannot believe this but I am actually running out of steam on this blog and my whole Hess story. I feel almost no bitterness toward them anymore. Writing is great therapy.
My life is so good now- I'm making more money than I did when I worked for Hess, I have WAY more free time, WAY less stress, am able to surf and write and have so much more energy to do whatever I want.
Yep, I hardly even feel like finishing this and I haven't even gotten to the parts of Hess that drove me the most crazy! Well, I'll try to finish it and just leave it online for generations of English teachers who might come after me.
My life is so good now- I'm making more money than I did when I worked for Hess, I have WAY more free time, WAY less stress, am able to surf and write and have so much more energy to do whatever I want.
Yep, I hardly even feel like finishing this and I haven't even gotten to the parts of Hess that drove me the most crazy! Well, I'll try to finish it and just leave it online for generations of English teachers who might come after me.
Friday, January 9, 2009
The part that really drove me crazy
So four months into my Hess experience I had fought my way into a decent schedule, my kindy class was great and my other two classes were going okay...
So why did I quit six months later?
Here's the part that really drove me crazy.
Picture all of us foreign teachers sitting around a table for our weekly meeting. Perhaps the Taiwanese management is there, perhaps they aren't. We discuss mundane little details and then...(hum Jaws song here) James opens his mouth:
"Well, there's something coming up and I think you guys will really enjoy it...."
AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
"Next week the branch has got something planned, it should be really fun..."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
"So you all know that I was in Taipei yesterday at a big meeting for all foreign managers- it turns out that soon we'll be..."
NOOOOOOOONOOOOOOOOOOOONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ANYTHING BUT THAT!!!!!!
"I think you'll be really excited for the next special event that's coming up..."
RUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY RUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY
It was true- my new schedule wasn't bad. But it seemed like every other week, my branch or Hess main office was introducing some new thing that we had to do. There were three levels of annoyances:
Level 1: We would have to somehow pack more knowledge into our kids heads, even though we already had a full curriculum to teach, and were already quizzing them and tutoring them during bathroom breaks and snack-times. This would take the form of special tests from Taipei that we had to do during classtime, or some new curriculum that we would somehow need to fit in. I say these are level 1 annoyances because they would take place primarily during classtime and we wouldn't have to put too much extra (unpaid) time into them. Level 1 annoyances could also take the form of one of the management needing to observe our class, either to evaluate our performance as a teacher, or to take pictures and videos for marketing, or so the sales department could figure out another way to sell the class to perspective students. As most teachers can attest, having an extra person in your classroom, especially if they are videotaping or snapping pictures, can be a huge distraction to your kids (not to mention making the teacher look bad).
Level 2: Some sort of event or training that took place during class, so you would miss your class and have to make it up later. There were 3, 6 and 9 month trainings in Taipei, along with 'quarterly trainings', and then there were other random trainings for specific classes or events that were coming up. Don't get me wrong, I think training is great and it's wonderful to have professional development. But taking a 45 minute bus ride then a 20 minute cab ride to Hess main office for a 2 hour training, then taking the cab and the bus back to your branch, missing 2 classes in the process and having to make those classes up during your free time on a Saturday or some other day? You do the math. It sucks. And these trainings were unpaid.
Level 3: These were the grand-daddies of annoying special events, and they came out at 3 out of every 4 weekly meetings. James was at his best when announcing these events.
"You know how everybody loves free food..?" he'd say, and we'd learn that there was a special promotional bar-b-q in front of the school on the following Saturday, from 9-11. Fine. Everyone does love free food and it's only 2 hours. But on Wednesday we'd find out that we needed to help set up for it. Make that 8-11. And could we stay a little late on Friday night to help make decorations? Sure. Add another unpaid hour, or two if you don't want to be an asshole who walks out while their exhausted co-teachers, who have toddlers at home, are still making more decorations. Oh by the way we'd really like it if you could plan a mini-lesson, to demonstrate your teaching skills. And it's really a little bit rude to walk out after it's all over without helping clean up a little bit.
Suddenly 'You know how everyone loves free food' means 'goodbye saturday'
Then there were 'open houses' in which the foreign teacher comes in on a Saturday or Sunday and 'tells a story' to perspective students. Of course telling a story suddenly becomes using huge story boards to tell a story, and of course you can't just read a book, and would you spend a couple of hours finding appropriate sound effects on the internet and burning them to a cd? And now you need to practice with your co-teacher about when to do which sound effects. And did we mention that you'll be performing acrobatic stunts in front of a huge audience and sweating like a pig? It will only be an hour, from 10 to 11am - but of course we'll yell at you for showing up at 10 because you're 'late' and it will start late and go long because there will be hoards of parents afterwards who want to practice their all but forgotten English on you. And yes we know that it's written into your contract that if you participate in one of these events, you get paid for 2 hours, but it was only 10-11, so we're only paying you for one hour...
Ya know what- there are four levels of special event annoyingness
Level 4: Performances. Shocking amounts of pressure all built up around what a four year old will do when on stage in front of 200 people. I don't even know how to talk about this yet. It needs its own post.
and then there are promotional things, not on the school property. I'll write about that in the next post.
So why did I quit six months later?
Here's the part that really drove me crazy.
Picture all of us foreign teachers sitting around a table for our weekly meeting. Perhaps the Taiwanese management is there, perhaps they aren't. We discuss mundane little details and then...(hum Jaws song here) James opens his mouth:
"Well, there's something coming up and I think you guys will really enjoy it...."
AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
"Next week the branch has got something planned, it should be really fun..."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
"So you all know that I was in Taipei yesterday at a big meeting for all foreign managers- it turns out that soon we'll be..."
NOOOOOOOONOOOOOOOOOOOONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ANYTHING BUT THAT!!!!!!
"I think you'll be really excited for the next special event that's coming up..."
RUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY RUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY
It was true- my new schedule wasn't bad. But it seemed like every other week, my branch or Hess main office was introducing some new thing that we had to do. There were three levels of annoyances:
Level 1: We would have to somehow pack more knowledge into our kids heads, even though we already had a full curriculum to teach, and were already quizzing them and tutoring them during bathroom breaks and snack-times. This would take the form of special tests from Taipei that we had to do during classtime, or some new curriculum that we would somehow need to fit in. I say these are level 1 annoyances because they would take place primarily during classtime and we wouldn't have to put too much extra (unpaid) time into them. Level 1 annoyances could also take the form of one of the management needing to observe our class, either to evaluate our performance as a teacher, or to take pictures and videos for marketing, or so the sales department could figure out another way to sell the class to perspective students. As most teachers can attest, having an extra person in your classroom, especially if they are videotaping or snapping pictures, can be a huge distraction to your kids (not to mention making the teacher look bad).
Level 2: Some sort of event or training that took place during class, so you would miss your class and have to make it up later. There were 3, 6 and 9 month trainings in Taipei, along with 'quarterly trainings', and then there were other random trainings for specific classes or events that were coming up. Don't get me wrong, I think training is great and it's wonderful to have professional development. But taking a 45 minute bus ride then a 20 minute cab ride to Hess main office for a 2 hour training, then taking the cab and the bus back to your branch, missing 2 classes in the process and having to make those classes up during your free time on a Saturday or some other day? You do the math. It sucks. And these trainings were unpaid.
Level 3: These were the grand-daddies of annoying special events, and they came out at 3 out of every 4 weekly meetings. James was at his best when announcing these events.
"You know how everybody loves free food..?" he'd say, and we'd learn that there was a special promotional bar-b-q in front of the school on the following Saturday, from 9-11. Fine. Everyone does love free food and it's only 2 hours. But on Wednesday we'd find out that we needed to help set up for it. Make that 8-11. And could we stay a little late on Friday night to help make decorations? Sure. Add another unpaid hour, or two if you don't want to be an asshole who walks out while their exhausted co-teachers, who have toddlers at home, are still making more decorations. Oh by the way we'd really like it if you could plan a mini-lesson, to demonstrate your teaching skills. And it's really a little bit rude to walk out after it's all over without helping clean up a little bit.
Suddenly 'You know how everyone loves free food' means 'goodbye saturday'
Then there were 'open houses' in which the foreign teacher comes in on a Saturday or Sunday and 'tells a story' to perspective students. Of course telling a story suddenly becomes using huge story boards to tell a story, and of course you can't just read a book, and would you spend a couple of hours finding appropriate sound effects on the internet and burning them to a cd? And now you need to practice with your co-teacher about when to do which sound effects. And did we mention that you'll be performing acrobatic stunts in front of a huge audience and sweating like a pig? It will only be an hour, from 10 to 11am - but of course we'll yell at you for showing up at 10 because you're 'late' and it will start late and go long because there will be hoards of parents afterwards who want to practice their all but forgotten English on you. And yes we know that it's written into your contract that if you participate in one of these events, you get paid for 2 hours, but it was only 10-11, so we're only paying you for one hour...
Ya know what- there are four levels of special event annoyingness
Level 4: Performances. Shocking amounts of pressure all built up around what a four year old will do when on stage in front of 200 people. I don't even know how to talk about this yet. It needs its own post.
and then there are promotional things, not on the school property. I'll write about that in the next post.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
level 4 special event
“Cami, you would like to tell a story in the park on Saturday?” says my Taiwanese branch manager.
“uhm what?” I say, looking up from a stack of papers that I'm grading.
“Yes, I think you will like very much. And maybe you sing song too.”
If confusion was apparent on my face, my manager showed no signs of knowing it.
“So yes, I think we will meet at sports park, 10am.”
“Huh?”
“Okay good,” my manager walks away from this baffling exchange, satisfied.
I later asked my western manager, or Head Native Speaking Teacher, what this was all about.
“I think it's like, an event for the children of the community. You just go to a park and read a story. It'll be fun.”
Far be it from me to turn down an 'event for the children'. I pictured a quaint scene- me and perhaps 10 children, sitting under a tree in a secluded area of the park, reading a book of my choice.
On Saturday morning I show up at the park around 9:59. Looking around, I spot my manager. I wave cheerily as he rushes toward me and grabs my elbow. “Why you are so late?!?” he hisses at me. He's steering me toward a very crowded public square next to the pond. People are enjoying meals at a cafe. Families stand at the waters edge, feeding ducks. Lovers are embracing on park benches. All is quiet, except for the pleasant mingling of voices and children's laughter. In the middle of the square are about 5 Taiwanese staff from my school. They are inexplicably wearing little plastic light up devil horns, as if we are advertising a school of Satan. Balloons are tied to the trees near them, and there is...this is where it gets bad...a portable public address system.
One of the Taiwanese staff rips my carefully chosen book out of my hands. My dreams of awakening a passion for good literature in the minds of the children slip away. A set of horns is set atop my head. A Hess story book is shoved into my hands.
The public address system gives a whistle.
“Wakka wakka wakka! Shim shimmy roo!” shouts one of the Taiwanese staff in Mandarin Chinese. People turn to stare. She continues to speak, and I can tell that she's building to some sort of finale.
“Wingle wingle wop dimple dong down do... CAAAYMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
I recognize this last word as my name. She smiles and tosses me the microphone.
I manage to say, “Uh,” before the ear-splitting opening notes of 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes' are emitted from the PA system. I'm vaguely aware, as I begin gesturing toward my head, shoulders, knees and toes, that the crowd has grown exponentially. There are perhaps a hundred adults standing in a half circle before me, and people are standing on benches to see better. There are, as I had imagined, perhaps 10 children.
A rousing rendition of “Do Your Ears Hang Low” begins to play. I seem to have an out of body experience during the song. I see myself marching proudly, swinging my arms energetically as if they were an incredibly long set of ears.
The crowd watches me solemnly. The children, who are sitting before me, may have only rudimentary English skills, but they communicate clearly with their eyes.
“You are an idiot,” they are saying to me.
“How true it is,” I think back at them.
The song ends and I sit woodenly in a chair, no longer mercifully blessed with that out of body experience feeling. Did I just dance, alone, to 'Do Your Ears Hang Low' in front of a hundred adults in a public park? I think I did.
I read the story. The crowd stares politely. I finish and they disperse.
The bad news is, this was not the last special event I did to promote this English school in Taiwan. The good news is, there was somebody in the crowd that day who offered me a better job.
“uhm what?” I say, looking up from a stack of papers that I'm grading.
“Yes, I think you will like very much. And maybe you sing song too.”
If confusion was apparent on my face, my manager showed no signs of knowing it.
“So yes, I think we will meet at sports park, 10am.”
“Huh?”
“Okay good,” my manager walks away from this baffling exchange, satisfied.
I later asked my western manager, or Head Native Speaking Teacher, what this was all about.
“I think it's like, an event for the children of the community. You just go to a park and read a story. It'll be fun.”
Far be it from me to turn down an 'event for the children'. I pictured a quaint scene- me and perhaps 10 children, sitting under a tree in a secluded area of the park, reading a book of my choice.
On Saturday morning I show up at the park around 9:59. Looking around, I spot my manager. I wave cheerily as he rushes toward me and grabs my elbow. “Why you are so late?!?” he hisses at me. He's steering me toward a very crowded public square next to the pond. People are enjoying meals at a cafe. Families stand at the waters edge, feeding ducks. Lovers are embracing on park benches. All is quiet, except for the pleasant mingling of voices and children's laughter. In the middle of the square are about 5 Taiwanese staff from my school. They are inexplicably wearing little plastic light up devil horns, as if we are advertising a school of Satan. Balloons are tied to the trees near them, and there is...this is where it gets bad...a portable public address system.
One of the Taiwanese staff rips my carefully chosen book out of my hands. My dreams of awakening a passion for good literature in the minds of the children slip away. A set of horns is set atop my head. A Hess story book is shoved into my hands.
The public address system gives a whistle.
“Wakka wakka wakka! Shim shimmy roo!” shouts one of the Taiwanese staff in Mandarin Chinese. People turn to stare. She continues to speak, and I can tell that she's building to some sort of finale.
“Wingle wingle wop dimple dong down do... CAAAYMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
I recognize this last word as my name. She smiles and tosses me the microphone.
I manage to say, “Uh,” before the ear-splitting opening notes of 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes' are emitted from the PA system. I'm vaguely aware, as I begin gesturing toward my head, shoulders, knees and toes, that the crowd has grown exponentially. There are perhaps a hundred adults standing in a half circle before me, and people are standing on benches to see better. There are, as I had imagined, perhaps 10 children.
A rousing rendition of “Do Your Ears Hang Low” begins to play. I seem to have an out of body experience during the song. I see myself marching proudly, swinging my arms energetically as if they were an incredibly long set of ears.
The crowd watches me solemnly. The children, who are sitting before me, may have only rudimentary English skills, but they communicate clearly with their eyes.
“You are an idiot,” they are saying to me.
“How true it is,” I think back at them.
The song ends and I sit woodenly in a chair, no longer mercifully blessed with that out of body experience feeling. Did I just dance, alone, to 'Do Your Ears Hang Low' in front of a hundred adults in a public park? I think I did.
I read the story. The crowd stares politely. I finish and they disperse.
The bad news is, this was not the last special event I did to promote this English school in Taiwan. The good news is, there was somebody in the crowd that day who offered me a better job.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Performances
How to Plan a Performance for Kindergärtners – Advice for the Foreign Teacher in Taiwan
Kindergarten performances in Taiwan usually take place in December and around Mother's Day. It is a time when the students (age 3-7) showcase their learning. It's also an enrollment boosting promotion for the school. After surviving two of these spectacles, I feel qualified to give teachers advice on 'How to plan a Kindergarten Performance in Taiwan'.
First, hear about the performance from your managers, about two months in advance. The requirements are simple. Each child must speak one or two lines in English. There should be a song and a dance. Pick out costumes (and who could resist those adorable costumes laid out so neatly in the catalogs!). Write a script and submit it for management approval. Sit back, eying your script, marveling at your brilliance. Think to yourself, 'I've missed my calling! I ought to have been in theater!'. The script is witty but not sarcastic. Humorous, but thought-provoking. It will give your students a chance to build their confidence and show them for the brilliant, adorable, fun little ones that they are. Smile. This is gonna be awesome!
Then, listen with growing anxiety as you catch the rumors- your school is in dire need of a stellar performance. They are losing money. We really must boost enrollment, or people will lose their jobs. Your co-teachers are worried. In this economy, it will be difficult for them to find another job. You are worried- could the school really shut down? What about your visa? What about your beautiful students? Work harder on the script. Realize, far too late, that the script is definitely too complex for your students. Though they are brilliant, they are at the age where sitting down on stage, removing their shoes, and examining their own toes is still a fascinating and viable educational activity. They don't get the stage directions, which are in a language that they still largely don't understand. And why did you think they could master the Charleston when most of them only recently learned to walk? Revise the script. Simplify it. The wit and banter is lost, but some of the brilliance remains.
Three weeks before the performance, management will watch it for the first time. You've had plenty of time to practice, so it should be about ready, shouldn't it? Children who knew their lines only yesterday stare at you blank-faced. Little Johnny and Suzie fight over the microphone. Linda solves the dilemma by kicking Johnny, who immediately begins to howl. You are laughing, until you see that management is stone-faced. Later, the verdict is in. The performance is terrible. It makes no sense. The props are amateur. The choreography is uninspired. The song (an 80's big hair band ballad which was still a hilarious choice only yesterday) is weird. Revise. Revise again. Listen to their criticism then calmly threaten to quit your job. Cry as often as needed, but preferably not in front of your students. Throw up your hands and decide, a week before your performance, that you can't change the script anymore. Wake your students up early from their nap to practice. Forget the rest of the curriculum. Practice, practice practice. Bribe with candy. Praise freely. Try not to resort to violence.
The day of the performance arrives. You will be a basket-case. Your stomach will be full of butterflies and you will guide your students through the performance like a patient with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You will remember nothing moments after it is over. You look at your students, taking a precarious bow under the footlights. They are adorable and wonderful and so uniquely themselves. You look at the parents, who's eyes are moist and hearts are bursting with pride. You look at management, which gives you a forced smile and a stiff thumbs up. You think to yourself, maybe it was all worth it. The next day, you begin to plan the performance which will happen in six months. Rehearsals begin Monday.
I began teaching at Hess in mid-August of 2008- In December of that year, we had our first performance. this was by far the absolute worse time working for Hess, and probably the thing that really solidified my negative feelings about the company.
Christmas and Mother's Day performances for kindergarten are a huge deal in Taiwan. The school purchases elaborate costumes, there is dancing, singing, stage props, speaking parts, etc, all for kids aged 3-7 (kindergarten in Taiwan is generally a 3 year experience- kind of like preschool+ kindergarten in America)
About two months before the performance was to take place, the management at our branch asked us to develop a script. Each child was supposed to have at least one speaking part and it would be good if there was a song and a dance. This is about all of the direction we got so at the time I figured it wouldn't be a huge deal. I started on a script and picked out costumes and began to make props.
I was the "Little Class" teacher- I had a class of 22 three year olds. Twenty two. 22 three year olds. twenty two 3 year olds. Roll it off your tongue a couple of times. That's a lot of kids. But I didn't care because I adored every last one of them.
Anyways I later found out that little class is not traditionally supposed to have speaking parts during a performance, either in Hess or in Taiwan itself. Usually little class just sings and dances and looks cute. I wasn't told this. My kids probably weren't developmentally ready for speaking parts up on stage in front of a large audience. Still, I did the best I could and so did they.
The problems began about a month before the performance. Our branch lead us to believe that they were losing money and we needed stellar performances to boost enrollment. Our Taiwanese co-teachers had had the fear of God put into them by management. The stress that they were under was readily apparent. Every day there was a new report about how terrible our performances were and how our co-teachers were afraid that the parents would be very angry. There was a constant appraisal and criticism and rating system of our performances.
"Little class has more speaking lines than middle class, the parents will be very angry!"
"Big classes performance is too boring, why isn't it more beautiful?"
"Little class has the best performance, big classes is okay and middle class is worst of all!"
Somehow I had emerged as the darling of the performance planners. This is not due to me at all (my performance turned out to be the worst of the three!) but more due to my co-teacher being very very chill, accepting and supportive. She told management that I was doing fine, and they believed her.
My co-workers, Brian and Melissa, were not so lucky. They were getting terrible feedback everyday. Brian was being yelled at by his co-teacher, and Melissa's co-teacher would break down in tears at the drop of a hat. We were all extremely busy with our regular teaching load and then the performance on top of it. Every day, during our break directly after kindergarten, Melissa and I would walk to the 711 and get ourselves a hurried lunch. On the walk we talked about the performance. I so looked forward to these talks every day because we couldn't talk freely at the branch. We were both incredibly stressed.
I felt like all of my free time was performance related- making props, tweaking the script, making cue cards, and then, for the few precious hours I had with the kids each day, we were practicing, practicing, practicing. Of course we still had our normal lessons so practice had to be fit in wherever we could do it. This usually meant 'fun time'. But then there was the problem of the stages- there were only two stages to practice on and one of them was too small to fit all of my kids in their performance formation. There were fights over who could use the stage when, how we would lay out the lines of tape on the floor that told the kids where to go, etc. There was also the constant evaluating and criticism, pitting us against eachother and rating our performances. We were miffed and frustrated and stressed- how could they be judging us and criticising us so heavily when we'd never even done something like this before? None of us had a background in drama and we hadn't even known that this would be expected of us! How were we supposed to be teachers, script writers, choreographers, and prop makers? Especially when the criticism and direction we were getting was often through rumors and in broken English.
To think that all of the stress that the teachers were going through didn't effect the children is a joke. Those were dark times for those kids, I think. yeah I can hear some people laughing- but it's true. Once I found myself yelling at a group of frightened 3 year olds and I thought, what the hell is wrong with me? These kids just got POTTY TRAINED for god's sake, and I'm yelling at them cause they aren't taking stage cues? I'm mad at them for not using the right inflection when speaking their lines? What is WRONG with me? so I stopped putting pressure on them- it wasn't worth it.
I'm not going to criticize the co-teachers- I love those women. But they were so rough with those kids sometimes, screaming at them, pushing and yanking on them, reducing them to tears when they did something incorrectly or started laughing on stage. the kids knew this was serious business as well as we did. We were being criticized by our management and were in turn criticizing the kids. It was like all of the stress coursing through our bodies needed somewhere to go. It went into the bodies of those tiny little kids.
The criticism we got from management was rarely specific. I've always had a hard time with people who criticize but don't say how something should change (kind of like me in this blog haha! I will be making suggestions later). It just seemed like we were getting a lot of general attacks but no ideas for improvement.
To be fair to Hess, alot of this culture of criticism is just Taiwanese culture. I still don't feel qualified to talk about it- I don't feel that I know the culture well enough. But it does seem like there is a lack of what we'd call 'encouragement' in Taiwan, and the feeling that your supervisors generally find you lacking at all times. It reminds me of how some religious sects tell you that you must be perfect- the standards are always slightly higher than you can reach. There's never such thing as a real 'job well done' in Taiwan, it seems.
It's tempting to call it wrong or backward, but it is just a different culture. Any time I'm tempted to criticize Taiwanese culture, all I have to do is look at our multitude of problems in America to shut myself up.
Anyways yeah, two weeks before the performance both Melissa and Brian were publicly threatening to quit their jobs. I was just laughing because I'd been threatening to quit the whole time.
Meanwhile, I was going in unpaid whenever possible to practice with my kids, making elaborate cue cards, props, etc. I rarely saw my home at that time, only to fall in bed, exhausted every night.
My performance still bombed in the end, but what can you do? I'm proud to report that the mother's day performance I did right before I quit was stellar. Honestly, I don't need anyone else to tell me that- the kids were fantastic and I feel like I lead them to victory.
A lot of that might have had to do with their development. 6 months makes a BIG difference in little kids.
Kindergarten performances in Taiwan usually take place in December and around Mother's Day. It is a time when the students (age 3-7) showcase their learning. It's also an enrollment boosting promotion for the school. After surviving two of these spectacles, I feel qualified to give teachers advice on 'How to plan a Kindergarten Performance in Taiwan'.
First, hear about the performance from your managers, about two months in advance. The requirements are simple. Each child must speak one or two lines in English. There should be a song and a dance. Pick out costumes (and who could resist those adorable costumes laid out so neatly in the catalogs!). Write a script and submit it for management approval. Sit back, eying your script, marveling at your brilliance. Think to yourself, 'I've missed my calling! I ought to have been in theater!'. The script is witty but not sarcastic. Humorous, but thought-provoking. It will give your students a chance to build their confidence and show them for the brilliant, adorable, fun little ones that they are. Smile. This is gonna be awesome!
Then, listen with growing anxiety as you catch the rumors- your school is in dire need of a stellar performance. They are losing money. We really must boost enrollment, or people will lose their jobs. Your co-teachers are worried. In this economy, it will be difficult for them to find another job. You are worried- could the school really shut down? What about your visa? What about your beautiful students? Work harder on the script. Realize, far too late, that the script is definitely too complex for your students. Though they are brilliant, they are at the age where sitting down on stage, removing their shoes, and examining their own toes is still a fascinating and viable educational activity. They don't get the stage directions, which are in a language that they still largely don't understand. And why did you think they could master the Charleston when most of them only recently learned to walk? Revise the script. Simplify it. The wit and banter is lost, but some of the brilliance remains.
Three weeks before the performance, management will watch it for the first time. You've had plenty of time to practice, so it should be about ready, shouldn't it? Children who knew their lines only yesterday stare at you blank-faced. Little Johnny and Suzie fight over the microphone. Linda solves the dilemma by kicking Johnny, who immediately begins to howl. You are laughing, until you see that management is stone-faced. Later, the verdict is in. The performance is terrible. It makes no sense. The props are amateur. The choreography is uninspired. The song (an 80's big hair band ballad which was still a hilarious choice only yesterday) is weird. Revise. Revise again. Listen to their criticism then calmly threaten to quit your job. Cry as often as needed, but preferably not in front of your students. Throw up your hands and decide, a week before your performance, that you can't change the script anymore. Wake your students up early from their nap to practice. Forget the rest of the curriculum. Practice, practice practice. Bribe with candy. Praise freely. Try not to resort to violence.
The day of the performance arrives. You will be a basket-case. Your stomach will be full of butterflies and you will guide your students through the performance like a patient with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You will remember nothing moments after it is over. You look at your students, taking a precarious bow under the footlights. They are adorable and wonderful and so uniquely themselves. You look at the parents, who's eyes are moist and hearts are bursting with pride. You look at management, which gives you a forced smile and a stiff thumbs up. You think to yourself, maybe it was all worth it. The next day, you begin to plan the performance which will happen in six months. Rehearsals begin Monday.
I began teaching at Hess in mid-August of 2008- In December of that year, we had our first performance. this was by far the absolute worse time working for Hess, and probably the thing that really solidified my negative feelings about the company.
Christmas and Mother's Day performances for kindergarten are a huge deal in Taiwan. The school purchases elaborate costumes, there is dancing, singing, stage props, speaking parts, etc, all for kids aged 3-7 (kindergarten in Taiwan is generally a 3 year experience- kind of like preschool+ kindergarten in America)
About two months before the performance was to take place, the management at our branch asked us to develop a script. Each child was supposed to have at least one speaking part and it would be good if there was a song and a dance. This is about all of the direction we got so at the time I figured it wouldn't be a huge deal. I started on a script and picked out costumes and began to make props.
I was the "Little Class" teacher- I had a class of 22 three year olds. Twenty two. 22 three year olds. twenty two 3 year olds. Roll it off your tongue a couple of times. That's a lot of kids. But I didn't care because I adored every last one of them.
Anyways I later found out that little class is not traditionally supposed to have speaking parts during a performance, either in Hess or in Taiwan itself. Usually little class just sings and dances and looks cute. I wasn't told this. My kids probably weren't developmentally ready for speaking parts up on stage in front of a large audience. Still, I did the best I could and so did they.
The problems began about a month before the performance. Our branch lead us to believe that they were losing money and we needed stellar performances to boost enrollment. Our Taiwanese co-teachers had had the fear of God put into them by management. The stress that they were under was readily apparent. Every day there was a new report about how terrible our performances were and how our co-teachers were afraid that the parents would be very angry. There was a constant appraisal and criticism and rating system of our performances.
"Little class has more speaking lines than middle class, the parents will be very angry!"
"Big classes performance is too boring, why isn't it more beautiful?"
"Little class has the best performance, big classes is okay and middle class is worst of all!"
Somehow I had emerged as the darling of the performance planners. This is not due to me at all (my performance turned out to be the worst of the three!) but more due to my co-teacher being very very chill, accepting and supportive. She told management that I was doing fine, and they believed her.
My co-workers, Brian and Melissa, were not so lucky. They were getting terrible feedback everyday. Brian was being yelled at by his co-teacher, and Melissa's co-teacher would break down in tears at the drop of a hat. We were all extremely busy with our regular teaching load and then the performance on top of it. Every day, during our break directly after kindergarten, Melissa and I would walk to the 711 and get ourselves a hurried lunch. On the walk we talked about the performance. I so looked forward to these talks every day because we couldn't talk freely at the branch. We were both incredibly stressed.
I felt like all of my free time was performance related- making props, tweaking the script, making cue cards, and then, for the few precious hours I had with the kids each day, we were practicing, practicing, practicing. Of course we still had our normal lessons so practice had to be fit in wherever we could do it. This usually meant 'fun time'. But then there was the problem of the stages- there were only two stages to practice on and one of them was too small to fit all of my kids in their performance formation. There were fights over who could use the stage when, how we would lay out the lines of tape on the floor that told the kids where to go, etc. There was also the constant evaluating and criticism, pitting us against eachother and rating our performances. We were miffed and frustrated and stressed- how could they be judging us and criticising us so heavily when we'd never even done something like this before? None of us had a background in drama and we hadn't even known that this would be expected of us! How were we supposed to be teachers, script writers, choreographers, and prop makers? Especially when the criticism and direction we were getting was often through rumors and in broken English.
To think that all of the stress that the teachers were going through didn't effect the children is a joke. Those were dark times for those kids, I think. yeah I can hear some people laughing- but it's true. Once I found myself yelling at a group of frightened 3 year olds and I thought, what the hell is wrong with me? These kids just got POTTY TRAINED for god's sake, and I'm yelling at them cause they aren't taking stage cues? I'm mad at them for not using the right inflection when speaking their lines? What is WRONG with me? so I stopped putting pressure on them- it wasn't worth it.
I'm not going to criticize the co-teachers- I love those women. But they were so rough with those kids sometimes, screaming at them, pushing and yanking on them, reducing them to tears when they did something incorrectly or started laughing on stage. the kids knew this was serious business as well as we did. We were being criticized by our management and were in turn criticizing the kids. It was like all of the stress coursing through our bodies needed somewhere to go. It went into the bodies of those tiny little kids.
The criticism we got from management was rarely specific. I've always had a hard time with people who criticize but don't say how something should change (kind of like me in this blog haha! I will be making suggestions later). It just seemed like we were getting a lot of general attacks but no ideas for improvement.
To be fair to Hess, alot of this culture of criticism is just Taiwanese culture. I still don't feel qualified to talk about it- I don't feel that I know the culture well enough. But it does seem like there is a lack of what we'd call 'encouragement' in Taiwan, and the feeling that your supervisors generally find you lacking at all times. It reminds me of how some religious sects tell you that you must be perfect- the standards are always slightly higher than you can reach. There's never such thing as a real 'job well done' in Taiwan, it seems.
It's tempting to call it wrong or backward, but it is just a different culture. Any time I'm tempted to criticize Taiwanese culture, all I have to do is look at our multitude of problems in America to shut myself up.
Anyways yeah, two weeks before the performance both Melissa and Brian were publicly threatening to quit their jobs. I was just laughing because I'd been threatening to quit the whole time.
Meanwhile, I was going in unpaid whenever possible to practice with my kids, making elaborate cue cards, props, etc. I rarely saw my home at that time, only to fall in bed, exhausted every night.
My performance still bombed in the end, but what can you do? I'm proud to report that the mother's day performance I did right before I quit was stellar. Honestly, I don't need anyone else to tell me that- the kids were fantastic and I feel like I lead them to victory.
A lot of that might have had to do with their development. 6 months makes a BIG difference in little kids.
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