Ostriches

Every so often, I have an incident in class that is so outlandish, I feel the need to report it in my blog.

First, I have a very strict "no cell phones" policy. I hate when a student takes out a phone and blithely answers it when I'm trying to teach. I HATE it.

I also hate it almost as much when my students leave the room to answer the phone. They go in and out all day, and that's very distracting.

So I tell them they're in an American classroom, and we don't behave that way in America. I tell them they're gonna get the best American education ever, and if they ever apply to study abroad, they can tell the admissions officers that they've already studied in a western-style classroom.

And today, I had a student deliberately ignore everything I have lectured the class about over the last 6 weeks.

First, his phone rang loudly. "Turn it off," I said, continuing to write the assignment on the board. Rather than obey, he raised his bootleg copy of Academic Writing over his head and proceeded to answer.

I could hear the metallic voice on the other end before I could see who exactly was talking on the phone. Turning around, I saw the kid with the book held over his face, answering the little mechanical voice he was trying to hide. As if I wouldn't notice someone clearly hiding his cell phone usage behind a book.

Me: What's wrong with you? Do you think I don't notice you holding the book in front of your face? Come on! I can hear the person on the other end of the line. How retarded do you think I am? TURN IT OFF!

But I ask you: what would even possess someone to do that? We all made fun of him for the next 5 minutes or so.

*Another time, a student of mine suddenly bent forward and buried the top half of his body in his bookbag to avoid my wrathful gaze as he answered the phone. Like I wouldn't notice that, either.

Brother Act

Monks and the Buddhist clergy play an important role in Cambodia's society, both historically and in a modern setting. They also play an important role, as it turns out, in my classrooms.

This was the case with the very first class I taught here. I looked down the roster, and the school had denoted the fact that one of my students-to-be was a monk. Beside each name is a gender notation--Male, Female, or Monk. I guess monks have a third gender.

Anyway, it totally freaked me out that I would have to teach an honored, respected monk. There is supposed to be a protocol for how I interact with them as a female teacher. For example, I can't just hand a paper back to a monk, because they're not supposed to accept something being held by me. There are some other points of etiquette, but I forget what they are, largely because none of my monks have ever observed the protocol. I guess to them I'm not a real woman. (Given that I sometimes forget I'm even female myself, I can't really raise any hue and cry about this one.)

Usually, I like teaching monks, because they tend to be devoted students who focus very hard and score in the high 90s on their exams. They make me look good.

I have this one class, though...where that's not quite the case. I have not one, not two, not three, but FOUR. FOUR monks. Generally, the monks sit together anyway, but this is like the lower left 25% of my classroom is devoted to the clergy. And they're not actually some of my more talented students. But they've sort of formed their own brotherly comedy troupe to compensate.

It usually goes like this:

Every day, I walk into the room. The first monk will start in on me, "GOOD AFTERNOON, TEACHER!" He will then proceed to make remarks about me in Khmer, to the great hilarity of the rest of the class. I'm never sure what he says, and I'm not sure I want to know. But I know I'm the subject of the discussion because he starts with "Nek Gru", the term for a female teacher.

Me: I don't want to hear it, Chealy.

Monk 1: But TEACHER. I don't know the English words!

Ignoring his desparate bid for attention, I'll then put a short writing assignment on the board. The second monk will start in on me, "Teacher, ENGLISH IS SO HARD. How do you even speak it? I've studied it all my life and I DON'T GET IT. I can't do it. I can't do this assignment."

Me: Yes you can.

Monk 2: Nooo....I'll never get it...

Me: Sure you will. You just have to practice lots and lots.

Monk 2: Too hard...brain...imploding...*rolls into a ball of angst and despair*

For the record, he's the first person I've ever heard actually say that English is "hard".

As we move on with class, the third monk--after staring at his blank sheet of paper for 5 minutes--will inevitably start in on me, too.

Monk 3: Teacher, I don't understand the assignment!

Me: Well, it's very simple. *explains the assignment again*

Monk 3: I STILL don't get it.

Me: Hey Sangha, do YOU understand the assignment?

Sangha: Yes, teacher.

Me: Ask Sangha.

If perchance he understands the assignment the first time around, you can count on Monk #1 not to understand. He double and triple asks about every single thing I assign (literally, every single day), even when everyone else in the class plainly understands. On some days, I think he just wants attention. He's usually the one I call on to share what he's written--and he's usually got some very interesting ideas and insights.

And he's always understood the assignment perfectly.

As for the fourth guy, well, he's a bit quieter than the rest. Still, when I gave them an assignment to develop an imaginary new product and a marketing campaign plan, he for some reason developed a plan for world domination.

Walking to the front of the class, he forcefully read the following statement:

To Build Up My Self

I want to destroy the power of a big country. The first point--All of my friendship close to the embassy. All of the economic fields, imports, exports, all products, and we begin to build up ourself and produce nuclear weapons and shoulder-fired missiles and all other weapons, and try to make relationships with other countries in the world and send the deploma to build the embassader [?] and invest all of economics.

When our country is stronger than the other country, offer that we should start making war with big countries and we'll call on our friends to help us.

His campaign plan was illustrated with a clenched fist, beneath which were inscribed the words, "powerful is my hand".

Lol, I can't make this stuff up. I thought I was supposed to be the entertainer.

I Thought College Was Over

It was three years ago exactly, to this day, that I graduated college. I didn't even go to the ceremony, so glad was I to have finally obtained my degree after six and a half years of consistent screwing around with classes I didn't need. I just went home after class and mentally closed that chapter in my life.

Strange, but...sometimes I don't feel like that much has changed. I still feel like a sick and starving college student working menial jobs and spending 8 hours a day on a college campus...eating Ramen noodles for every meal...and questioning if what I'm doing now is really gonna be all that useful 10 years from now..

...LOL!

Day 4: Exams

We're taking exams this week in all General English classes.

You'd think exams would be easy--you don't have to prepare anything, you don't need to think of a lesson plan, you don't have to talk and demonstrate. You just sit there for an hour and a half and chill.

Truth be told, I find exams more annoying than not--you have to show up early in order to control the positions of the desks and which ones different students sit in; you have to make everyone respect the fact that silence means silence; and you're stuck with nothing to do for 1.5 hours but carefully watching them and stopping them from cheating.

I like to slip off my shoes and sit on the teacher's desk, resting my excruciating hawkish gaze on each and every one of them. No one cheats in my classes--and gets away with it. I've failed students for it before.

On the other hand, some students aren't incorrigible cheaters. Many do their own work because they are incredibly perfectionistic and terrified of making a mistake. It's almost funny to watch them work. They finish incredibly quickly because they have over-studied all their lives; they then spend the next hour frantically re-reading and re-re-reading their answers, rooting out any mistakes, actual or perceived, and becoming increasingly stressed as time goes on.

I find it almost funny in light of the fact that for all their perfectionism, they still make mistakes such as forgetting to capitalize the pronoun "I", forgetting how to use English punctuation, forgetting the -s on 3rd person singular verbs, or just writing trite expressions like "he will be go" or "In Cambodia have many problems." They spend an hour whiting-out and re-writing a paragraph that I'm going to spend 10 seconds reading. There is no forest, only trees.

I shouldn't laugh at them...but my attitude towards academia and test-taking has always been flippant at best. I can assure you I'm not going to grade them on how perfect their letter "d" looks.

And then you get the students who ask bizarre questions. This evening, one of my students asked me, "Teacher, do I have to capitalize a word at the beginning of a sentence?"

Me: "Yes, the first letter is always capitalized."

Student: "But teacher, I don't want to capitalize."

Me: "Then you'll be wrong."

Student: "But do I have to capitalize??"

Me: "If it needs capitalization, do it." (By this time other students are taking advantage of the situation and beginning to exchange whispers).

Student: "But teacher..."

Me: "If it needs capitalization, then capitalize." (Sits stoically and refuses to respond to any further inquiries).

I'm still shaking my head over that one. And I get to go through this every two to four weeks.