An unpleasant story
It's probably jarring to read stupid jokes from me in one post, then in the next to read a comment I wrote seriously. But I'm not sure how to avoid it in this format.
My favorite student is a young Lebanese guy named Elie, age 19. He's a little older than the high school juniors I usually teach, and he's correspondingly more mature. He's desperate to go to school at the University of Wollongong -- that's in Dubai -- and they told him he needs a 1000 on the SAT to get in.
He wants that score so bad. It's going to be very difficult for him, because English is his third language, and though he speaks perfectly clearly, his vocabulary is very limited. 1000 is the average score for American students, native English speakers, so Elie is a long shot. He's shooting in the 600 range right now. But I've never wanted a student to succeed more than I want this kid to succeed.
We get along great -- there is a culture of teacher respect here, so when a kid likes you and thinks you're a good teacher, he or she can get very attached. When I was making plans to leave here last week, before things got worked out, I told Elie that I wouldn't continue to be his teacher, and he went into a real funk, though he tried not to show it. He was overjoyed when I stayed.
So I was teaching his class last night. We SAT teachers often dog on ETS, the company that produces the SAT. We make them the enemy that kids want to beat when their scores improve. As class was winding up last night, Elie was really frustrated with a certain problem, and as he was walking out, he joked, "I hate ETS! Why do they make it so hard? I hate them!" I laughed; he was smiling.
Then he said, "I'd like to send a terrorist from Iraq to blow them up!" My gut twisted and I felt sick. He saw the look on my face, which probably changed from laughing to disgust almost comically quickly, and he looked stricken. I told him that wasn't at all funny and that he should go home. I was very sharp, I think. He looked at me with such puppy-dog eyes that I immediately felt terrible -- but it didn't replace the awful feeling his comment provoked. All together it just made me feel exhausted.
He's such a good kid, and he didn't mean anything by it. But I was really surprised by how much that comment upset me. I don't like to think that I'm so easily provoked, especially by people I like. I didn't know my 9/11 sensitivity is still so sharp. I think I'm more defensive about those issues over here than I want to admit.
My favorite student is a young Lebanese guy named Elie, age 19. He's a little older than the high school juniors I usually teach, and he's correspondingly more mature. He's desperate to go to school at the University of Wollongong -- that's in Dubai -- and they told him he needs a 1000 on the SAT to get in.
He wants that score so bad. It's going to be very difficult for him, because English is his third language, and though he speaks perfectly clearly, his vocabulary is very limited. 1000 is the average score for American students, native English speakers, so Elie is a long shot. He's shooting in the 600 range right now. But I've never wanted a student to succeed more than I want this kid to succeed.
We get along great -- there is a culture of teacher respect here, so when a kid likes you and thinks you're a good teacher, he or she can get very attached. When I was making plans to leave here last week, before things got worked out, I told Elie that I wouldn't continue to be his teacher, and he went into a real funk, though he tried not to show it. He was overjoyed when I stayed.
So I was teaching his class last night. We SAT teachers often dog on ETS, the company that produces the SAT. We make them the enemy that kids want to beat when their scores improve. As class was winding up last night, Elie was really frustrated with a certain problem, and as he was walking out, he joked, "I hate ETS! Why do they make it so hard? I hate them!" I laughed; he was smiling.
Then he said, "I'd like to send a terrorist from Iraq to blow them up!" My gut twisted and I felt sick. He saw the look on my face, which probably changed from laughing to disgust almost comically quickly, and he looked stricken. I told him that wasn't at all funny and that he should go home. I was very sharp, I think. He looked at me with such puppy-dog eyes that I immediately felt terrible -- but it didn't replace the awful feeling his comment provoked. All together it just made me feel exhausted.
He's such a good kid, and he didn't mean anything by it. But I was really surprised by how much that comment upset me. I don't like to think that I'm so easily provoked, especially by people I like. I didn't know my 9/11 sensitivity is still so sharp. I think I'm more defensive about those issues over here than I want to admit.
posted by Eric at 7:25 AM
7 Comments:
interesting comments this morning, Er. It's a shame he made the comment(most likely in complete jest) and that it has affected your relationship with him. maybe he learned quickly how sensitive we americans still are and that you can't always let your mouth say the first thing that comes from the brain. have a good friday. love, dad
I think any TPR teacher would have done and said the same thing. I don't think you should be so hard on yourself...he's old enough to know better than to say something like that. If you had said something offensive about his culture, you'd be hauled to jail. As an anthropologist, I preach cultural relativism...and it should go both ways if we want to live in a better world!
--Anna K.
I'm not still upset with him; it wore off with a night's sleep. He's a really great kid and he didn't mean it. It just threw me for a turn at the time.
Eric, spare not the rod ...
So what's the social life like out there? Do you hang out with Americans or locals during the witching hour? I just see you finding a nice game out there with Bizarro Arab versions of myself, Kramer and Scott. Rummell
Eric,
Certainly a bad mistake to make, although when I think of the number of times I've said, (insert Al Pacino voice) "I'd like to take a flamethrower to this place!" it gives me pause. Of course, I don't say that kind of stuff in Vietnam, or the Pacific islands, but I guess you could look on the bright side and say, "Well, at the very least, this kid truly has a great understanding of the concept of hyberbole." So yeah, think of it as one big teachable moment.
That's a great concept, teachable moments. I can never tell whether it's my students having them, or me.
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