(In which I try to be optimistic.)
I got back to school recently and though I was only enrolled for two subjects, it felt like I was studying full-time because of the tons of readings to be done, essays to be written and reports to be studied. But I don’t mind. It sometimes feels better to be the student than to be the teacher. Somehow, being guided by an authority is more secure than being the authority itself. It’s nice to feel this security even just once a week. Let’s leave it at that.
On Teaching Online
We don’t work for eight hours straight. No, we don’t. We’re one of the lucky people who have their own rooms, have considerably long breaks, can access the Internet during those breaks and still get paid for doing so or for virtually doing nothing. That was cool. Until they noticed how really long my break is and decided to put an end to my luck.
Yesterday, I was told to teach a high school student grammar and writing from 6pm-8pm. That’s right. That’s how long my break has been. Apparently, good things never last.
On Teaching the New Boy
The student wants grammar and writing and Brent International School. He shows me his essays and book reports to point out that he knows how to write but that his grammar puts him down. He shows me his report card and his folders to show that he’s not a bad student. He’s not, really. So I told him to just do advance reading and ask me about the things he doesn’t understand. Well, that’s a tough challenge for both of us but that’s what really happens when a student has big goals.
On Teaching the Old Boys
Gerald has been patient with his writing and the boring class time. (And I have been, too.) Jack has been patient with my tardiness for as long as I can remember. I told him about the new project I am on and confessed that I am thinking of giving up the class with him. Incidentally, he was thinking of the same thing and we came up with a consensus. Oh! The beauty of having laziness on both ends!
The best thing about this blog’s being personal-turned-bookish is that it can always go back to being personal when I have nothing book-related to post. It’s convenient . . . and cathartic.