"Teacher! He say me grandfather fish!"

Three months in and I’m relaxing into this position. I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t a rough transition at times- in fact it still is- but all things considered, I enjoy the challenge of my hectic job.

Last week, my boss told me that because the readings I am teaching are so difficult that the Korean co-teachers would touch on the material every week to strengthen comprehension. It’s only a few paragraphs and it’s true that a Korean can probably explain in 5 minutes or less what takes me half an hour to outline in caveman English: “First match, win, Second… Two… two match, lose! Why he lose match? Change computer! Computer change!” Anyway, I continued my classes spending more time on reading fluency than actual comprehension until two days later when my co-teacher, “Lucy,” asked for a word.

LUCY: What are you teaching [6 grade class]?

ME:  Oh, we’re doing a unit a day, why?

LUCY: They students told me you were just reading the text and answering the questions.

ME: Yes... That is what we do every unit.

LUCY: Well they don’t understand. You can explain to them?

ME: Uh… yes? But it’s really hard for me to explain in English.

LUCY: Okay, good. You explain to them.

~Conversation Over~

Effectively this reverses my boss’s previous assertion that I would have help, but I know better than to do anything other than nod. It doesn’t matter. We’re going to slog through these units the best we can and so help me I’m going to have their workbooks all filled out at the end of the month!! It’s just funny because it is not an uncommon occurrence and now a 5 minute task to promote understanding has become a 30 minute battle for the attention of my overworked, 12-year old students. I take their cell phones, I  jump up and down, I sing the material, I draw outrageous pictures on the board… In 3 months time I’ve become the fastest improviser you’ve ever met. (Many days I’m handed the material 2 minutes before class starts!) But come on, it’s not the most efficient system.

One time Lucy conceded that, “Yes, it is a little harder for you to control the classroom. But it is hard for everyone.” At the time, I thought maybe this was true. Of course, I know that what the Korean teachers deal with is nothing compared to the sheer chaos that goes on during some of my classes. Not all of them, no- not even the majority, but enough to keep me on my toes and constantly changing my approach. This, my friends, is what you call a challenging job. 

And now I know from experience that there is no way to even approximate the environment inside any other teacher’s classroom. Walking down the halls of our English floor I hear silence and occasional Korean instruction. Peer inside the rooms and dark heads of hair are bent over English workbooks. Studious. Calm.

Enter my classroom and the noise is deafening. In order to cope with one class in particular, I have begun to imagine that all 10 of the eleven-year old boys are autistic. They’re up out of their seats, climbing under desks, yelling at each other, punching each other,  pulling on my arm, running up to the board to draw pictures, stealing each other’s pencils, throwing things. Screaming, “TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER!!” so much that I have effectively separated myself from the word; I almost don’t hear it anymore. I tell them to be quiet, try to reward them for calm behavior but it has no effect. Two of them sit silently and patiently while the rest make crazy noises and jump up suddenly, unprovoked, to dance and scream in the aisles. When I get one of them to read, I cannot hear him above the din. The class takes place in the only classroom with a projector which is yet another cause for distraction as the students are forever seeking out the remote control. Nothing amuses them more than seeing the “SAMSUNG” logo appear in blue on my head as I explain what a lobster is. When I steal it back and place it on the ledge of the chalkboard, they “accidentally” fling an eraser up by my feet and excuse themselves to retrieve it while trying to sneak a hand around my back, grasping at their true target. And it Never. Gets. Old. Frequently, it’s so much nonsense all at once, I just burst into laughter. This does not help my stern teacher façade and may be why none of them take me seriously. That and the fact that they don’t understand most of the things that come out of my mouth. Even when… me… talk… slow… like… robot. And gesture! My life is a perpetual game of charades!!

But the bell rings and I deep breathe as they chant their Goodbye Song that goes something like, “See you! Hab a na-ice day! Dank you! Por your! Teach-Ing!” Scurrying away, they shout “Bye teacher!!” with the biggest grins you’ve ever seen and I can’t be mad. (…Unless, of course, they’ve made someone cry. But then it would just be another Thursday!)