The Thanksgiving holiday is a favorite of mine because the only real expectation is to be full. I do, however, try and keep in mind that I have much for which to be grateful.
Today, I'm grateful that I have four days off.
I'm not thrilled that it will be somewhat consumed by two papers and the creation of a lesson plan I'll have to teach on Monday. But hey, that's what I've paid for.
Happy Turkey Day!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Kudos to My Cohorts
Today I watched as my fellow trainers in training showed exactly what listening to your instructors can do. One adapted a lesson plan with seeming ease and showed no sign of strain as she stretched what she thought was to be a 20 minute plan into 40. Another worked with patience until our faithful but sometimes weaker student made her way through a difficult Q&A we she proclaimed "dificil" but good. And finally, another applied every piece of feedback she was given yesterday as though she were a practiced pro.
Ok, maybe I'm being a bit effusive but even so, they were good!
Ok, maybe I'm being a bit effusive but even so, they were good!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Finding our ways . . .
I asked why they wanted to learn English.
The enthusiastic Colombian who likes to dance and jog on the weekends didn't hesitate, "To teach. To talk and be understood."
The shy, more reserved mother of two, offered up almost as dramatically, "To help my children with school. To get a job."
They won't leave this class knowing English. They will leave knowing they can. And I can help make this happen . . . one verb, one vocabulary presentation, one text at a time.
I think I could really like this job.
The enthusiastic Colombian who likes to dance and jog on the weekends didn't hesitate, "To teach. To talk and be understood."
The shy, more reserved mother of two, offered up almost as dramatically, "To help my children with school. To get a job."
They won't leave this class knowing English. They will leave knowing they can. And I can help make this happen . . . one verb, one vocabulary presentation, one text at a time.
I think I could really like this job.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Halfway There
Friday we had our midpoint evaluations with one of our instructors. The one-to-one attention is valuable as they have a chance to dig into what we're doing well, what we need to work on, and even give us a sense of how it's going to play out in the next couple of weeks.
As I looked at previous evaluations of my teaching and listened to what my tutor was saying, I had an "aha" that shouldn't have been this long in the making.
This experience is strangely similar to my Spanish immersion experience in Ecuador a couple of years ago. We had a small class that was equally as diverse as this one in experience, interests, and plans on what we'd do with our newfound language skills. Most of us were living with a family in homestay situations. We had very long days. I don't remember this much homework in that experience but we were practicing every time we tried to hail a cab or get some food!
But the biggest similarity for me is that when I went to Ecuador I had a limited knowledge of Spanish. Along with a friend, we butchered the language without hesitation as we tried to make our way to the school, make some additional plans, etc. We walked the streets with a sense that we had a clue what was going on around us.
Then we took the class. Then reality set in. We were busted. Oh, how ignorant we found ourselves to be.
And what happened? We stopped practicing on the streets quite as much. Embarrassed by how little we really knew, shamed by how badly we had been expressing ourselves, we slowed it down. We almost quit, but didn't. Ultimately, the experience was definitely a learning one, but we came in with a bang and out with a whimper.
Fast forward a few years and I walk into the classroom as a trainer in training with the same sense of knowing a bit about what I'm doing. And once again, as I grow in my knowledge of what is supposed to be happening as opposed to what I'm doing, and I hit a wall. I get mentally fried just trying to download a simple procedure and apply it. I'm convinced that I'm butchering these folks' language experience and I slowed down.
But once again, I haven't quit. And I have no plans to.
I do, however, plan on getting this blasted 1) illustrate meaning, 2) elicit the item, 3) concept check, 4) oral highlighting, 5) oral ICP, 6) written highlighting, 7) written ICP down if it kills me.
Halfway there and contemplating embarassment, shame and terms such as "kill." Yep, I MUST be learning something!
As I looked at previous evaluations of my teaching and listened to what my tutor was saying, I had an "aha" that shouldn't have been this long in the making.
This experience is strangely similar to my Spanish immersion experience in Ecuador a couple of years ago. We had a small class that was equally as diverse as this one in experience, interests, and plans on what we'd do with our newfound language skills. Most of us were living with a family in homestay situations. We had very long days. I don't remember this much homework in that experience but we were practicing every time we tried to hail a cab or get some food!
But the biggest similarity for me is that when I went to Ecuador I had a limited knowledge of Spanish. Along with a friend, we butchered the language without hesitation as we tried to make our way to the school, make some additional plans, etc. We walked the streets with a sense that we had a clue what was going on around us.
Then we took the class. Then reality set in. We were busted. Oh, how ignorant we found ourselves to be.
And what happened? We stopped practicing on the streets quite as much. Embarrassed by how little we really knew, shamed by how badly we had been expressing ourselves, we slowed it down. We almost quit, but didn't. Ultimately, the experience was definitely a learning one, but we came in with a bang and out with a whimper.
Fast forward a few years and I walk into the classroom as a trainer in training with the same sense of knowing a bit about what I'm doing. And once again, as I grow in my knowledge of what is supposed to be happening as opposed to what I'm doing, and I hit a wall. I get mentally fried just trying to download a simple procedure and apply it. I'm convinced that I'm butchering these folks' language experience and I slowed down.
But once again, I haven't quit. And I have no plans to.
I do, however, plan on getting this blasted 1) illustrate meaning, 2) elicit the item, 3) concept check, 4) oral highlighting, 5) oral ICP, 6) written highlighting, 7) written ICP down if it kills me.
Halfway there and contemplating embarassment, shame and terms such as "kill." Yep, I MUST be learning something!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Listening Comprehension -- I'll Take the Blue Packet
Artifical sweetners have come a long way but they still leave an aftertaste.
So, it seems, do artificial listening exercises.
Male voice (with a cheerleader's forced enthusiasm): I have a job as a summer intern.
Female voice: Really? (her voice rising at the end of the sentence as though she's just been told the guys with the sweepstake winnings are standing at her door) That sounds exciting! (at this point you're wondering if a lot more is going on than just a simple conversation on the street)
Male voice: But I'm sad I won't be working on my tan. (And now, you're convinced he's suicidal)
Ok, maybe it's not that bad but believe me these dialogues run dangerously close to putting someone in a diabetic coma. They gush with hyperbole. Some might guess they are being performed by soap opera rejects.
Still, it's a tool. And an interesting one at that. For instance, we would-be trainers were told yesterday that sometimes new language learners don't realize there are two male voices in dialogue as opposed to one long monologue. They can't hear the differences we native speakers can.
So . . . play, pause, play again. Just be prepared to get the sweet taste out of your mouth.
So, it seems, do artificial listening exercises.
Male voice (with a cheerleader's forced enthusiasm): I have a job as a summer intern.
Female voice: Really? (her voice rising at the end of the sentence as though she's just been told the guys with the sweepstake winnings are standing at her door) That sounds exciting! (at this point you're wondering if a lot more is going on than just a simple conversation on the street)
Male voice: But I'm sad I won't be working on my tan. (And now, you're convinced he's suicidal)
Ok, maybe it's not that bad but believe me these dialogues run dangerously close to putting someone in a diabetic coma. They gush with hyperbole. Some might guess they are being performed by soap opera rejects.
Still, it's a tool. And an interesting one at that. For instance, we would-be trainers were told yesterday that sometimes new language learners don't realize there are two male voices in dialogue as opposed to one long monologue. They can't hear the differences we native speakers can.
So . . . play, pause, play again. Just be prepared to get the sweet taste out of your mouth.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Technical Difficulties
"We've got a barn. Let's put on a show."
A young man in an old movie said this line with such enthusiasm that's it become a part of our vernacular. Unfortunately, his shows didn't always go as planned.
Such was the case with my use of technology in the last 24 hours.
Our classrooms are equipped with wifi and powerpoint projectors. There's not a lot of hoopla in getting them to work. Press two buttons and you're good to go.
Lights on the other hand are another matter. No matter what we did, the lighting in the room didn't work. Too dark to write. Too light to see the projection. I had a backup plan and used it but technology made for some painful digging out of the hole.
Last night . . . after a 9 to 5 day of classes, driving across town for a meeting, participating in yet two more hours of training, I started what I thought would be a couple of hours on homework. I'd already worked on my handout. I was just a few downloads and printed pages away from bedtime.
HA!!
The downloads were either on my Mac using a "borrowed" wifi connection and moved via jump drive to the PC where I could print. Or incredibly slow (as in how long it takes for the dentist to drill your tooth) on the dial-up tied to the PC. The printer made the carefully sought out color photos look like the line drawings of a 7-year-old. And four hours into the process I had a less than satisfactory lesson plan and original documents to take to class.
The show would go on but it was destined for bad reviews.
And then I remembered my resources. Another printer. A color copier. Admitting you're not sure of some things and actually asking for help . . . a lot of help. And in the end, I may not have a prizewinner but someone learned something.
Namely me! 1. Just because you have it, doesn't mean you have to use it. (2) Paper, pen and our voices have been quite useful tools for some time.
A young man in an old movie said this line with such enthusiasm that's it become a part of our vernacular. Unfortunately, his shows didn't always go as planned.
Such was the case with my use of technology in the last 24 hours.
Our classrooms are equipped with wifi and powerpoint projectors. There's not a lot of hoopla in getting them to work. Press two buttons and you're good to go.
Lights on the other hand are another matter. No matter what we did, the lighting in the room didn't work. Too dark to write. Too light to see the projection. I had a backup plan and used it but technology made for some painful digging out of the hole.
Last night . . . after a 9 to 5 day of classes, driving across town for a meeting, participating in yet two more hours of training, I started what I thought would be a couple of hours on homework. I'd already worked on my handout. I was just a few downloads and printed pages away from bedtime.
HA!!
The downloads were either on my Mac using a "borrowed" wifi connection and moved via jump drive to the PC where I could print. Or incredibly slow (as in how long it takes for the dentist to drill your tooth) on the dial-up tied to the PC. The printer made the carefully sought out color photos look like the line drawings of a 7-year-old. And four hours into the process I had a less than satisfactory lesson plan and original documents to take to class.
The show would go on but it was destined for bad reviews.
And then I remembered my resources. Another printer. A color copier. Admitting you're not sure of some things and actually asking for help . . . a lot of help. And in the end, I may not have a prizewinner but someone learned something.
Namely me! 1. Just because you have it, doesn't mean you have to use it. (2) Paper, pen and our voices have been quite useful tools for some time.
Perspective Is a Beautiful Thing
I have a great hairstylist. When I leave her chair, I feel beautiful. She always gives me a great cut. Then she uses products that makes my hair do things I couldn't have dreamed of. However . . . when I get home . . . with that same great cut . . . and use those same great products, the results are not the same!
Beautiful? No! I feel like a junior high girl standing alone at the dance.
Yesterday I had those feelings all over again but my hair had nothing to do with it.
When I am in the morning classes and watching our instructors engage in their expertise, I'm amazed. They elicit the words they want us to practice with simple stories or pictures. They drill us on pronunciation or concept check on the grammar structure or the methodology and we show definite signs of understanding. It's a beautiful thing. Truly.
Then with those very products in my hands, I make a mess -- the kind of mess that's painful to watch. I don't quite get the pronunciation correct myself. Then I let corrupted pronunciation get by and even say, "Good" when it wasn't. I forget to check if the students even have the meaning before I start them practicing the word. I talk too much. They talk too little. And grammar? Oh, please! Don't get me started!
Forty minutes of teaching doesn't sound like a long time. But ask the junior high girl at that dance who has a zit and whose hair is frizzed and going in directions even God didn't intend. Forty minutes can be an eternity!
At the end of teaching the class yesterday the best thing I could say was that I had gotten through it.
Fortunately, my instructor had another perspective. "If you had been teaching this since 1968 [at he has] rather than an hour an a half, and done what you did, you might have a reason to beat yourself up. Give yourselves a break!"
Ahh . . . hairdressers and instructors, they know all the right things to do and say.
Beautiful? No! I feel like a junior high girl standing alone at the dance.
Yesterday I had those feelings all over again but my hair had nothing to do with it.
When I am in the morning classes and watching our instructors engage in their expertise, I'm amazed. They elicit the words they want us to practice with simple stories or pictures. They drill us on pronunciation or concept check on the grammar structure or the methodology and we show definite signs of understanding. It's a beautiful thing. Truly.
Then with those very products in my hands, I make a mess -- the kind of mess that's painful to watch. I don't quite get the pronunciation correct myself. Then I let corrupted pronunciation get by and even say, "Good" when it wasn't. I forget to check if the students even have the meaning before I start them practicing the word. I talk too much. They talk too little. And grammar? Oh, please! Don't get me started!
Forty minutes of teaching doesn't sound like a long time. But ask the junior high girl at that dance who has a zit and whose hair is frizzed and going in directions even God didn't intend. Forty minutes can be an eternity!
At the end of teaching the class yesterday the best thing I could say was that I had gotten through it.
Fortunately, my instructor had another perspective. "If you had been teaching this since 1968 [at he has] rather than an hour an a half, and done what you did, you might have a reason to beat yourself up. Give yourselves a break!"
Ahh . . . hairdressers and instructors, they know all the right things to do and say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
