Notes on Teaching: dark and light

A longtime friend who teaches sociology, and is thus keenly observant of group behavior, tells me that the smaller the pie, the more intensely people fight over it.  So academia is a place known for turf-wars, where individuals and groups fight for ownership of concepts, plans, and other intangibles in place of big salaries.  And now that I've left university-teaching for the even smaller pie of adult education programs for immigrants, I'm not surprised to see individuals there clawing even harder for what little power is available.

    Unpaid tutors start out as educators, and are quickly drawn into advocacy for troubled  refugees, championing new immigrants through the bureaucratic labyrinth to citizenship and legal sponsorship for the remainder of their families to come to the U.S.  This is wonderful work, and rewards tutors with the victorious feeling of effectively overcoming bureaucratic obstacles to dramatically transform lives, but they can become blinded to their students' flaws in the process.    

    I've only recently discovered this myself, after working as a Literacy Volunteer with an Afghani refugee for four years to help him regain his profession as a family practice physician.  A. had to take the first job he could qualify for when he came here: drawing blood from patients in the local hospital, which he's kept to uncomplainingly for three years. 

    I was so taken by A.'s positive spirit, courage, and perseverance, that I quickly crossed the line from teaching to advocacy in starting him on the path to re-licensure as a physician in the U.S.  I did everything the current theory of adult education and English-for speakers of other languages (ESOL) advises: to take the student whereever they're at.  That meant, in our case, to start A. learning English through studying for the physician-relicensing exam, rather than by focusing on phonetics and grammar separately.

   But in my zeal to restore A. to his profession, in my belief in him, I lost my objectivity, became blind to the fact that as he gained knowledge of medical terminology in English, he lost his grasp of basic sentence structure.  I realized - only after he failed the exam - that grammar and syntax must be their own focus.  I should have taken him through a couple of years of that alone, before starting him on the sample test materials.  So now we've gone back to basic English. 

    We're also looking at less lofty career-options in the medical field.  In describing the training program for being a surgical tech., I read the brochure in front of us aloud: "It's six months of classroom study, and six months of hands-on training in the operating room, emergency room, etc."  A. stared at "hands-on," and I explained that it was like putting your hands on a microscope in the lab, learning by doing.  He said "Ahhh, I am thinking hands on ends of arms, that required in program."  I started laughing, couldn't help myself, and A. added, "I am thinking, no amputees in program," and collapsed in laughter.  It was the first time we'd ever shared a joke, something almost impossible across languages.  But it also showed me how far we have to go in basic English.
     And that's good, to be looking at A. more realistically now.  I no longer am his blindly loyal champion, so now I'm freer to ask him hard questions about his culture and sensibilities. "How 'bout this shooting guns in the air to celebrate?" I asked him the other day, about the middle east tradition that we see on the news whenever there's a gathering of young men in the streets celebrating a coup or burning enemies in effigy.  A few weeks ago, they were doing it in Baghdad after the soccer victory; a handful of people died from the bullets coming back down.  "I don't understand," I said, adding that besides being dangerous, and besides having to temporarily forget gravity, it would seem that people in such war-torn cities would be sick of gunshots and explosions. "Why do they do it?"
    "Because they stupid!" A. said.  "They have brain of chick," he pointed at his head, "not human."
    It was good to hear that I hadn't been A.'s advocate without reason, that we share the same sensibility I'd suspected when I first met him, the same bone-weariness with violence.               
                              

Comments

[Barbara R.]

Thank you for sharing this hard-earned experience with us. It takes courage to see one's own mistakes and even more courage to admit them openly to others. It sounds like working in adult literacy with immigrants is a great way to reach across cultural divides and bring new richness of experience into both people's lives.

[Tabor]

It not only takes courage to see one's mistakes, but it takes intelligence! I can see getting so focused on the goal that one forgets to bring all the resources needed for the end of the journey. Thanks for sharing that odd joke.

[joared]

Sounds like you're on the right track with the grammar, syntax. Good that you were able to diagnose the problem. Humor is a very high level language function, so the fact the two of you could share that experience is certainly indicative of higher understanding in English on his part. Oh, those idioms -- the bane of the ESL learner. I always remember one individual more than a little distressed, the story went, when he inquired about a friend and was told, "Oh, you'll find him hanging out on the corner."

[Ned Smith]

I've been working as a volunteer tutor with Literacy Austin for about six months now and it has been a great experience. I "sub" for other tutors when they're unable to meet with their students. I started subbing at first just to "get the hang" of teaching but I've continued because the variety is fun. This week I'm working with four people in the ABE (adult basic education) program. Teaching the basics of reading and writing to these four adults who "slipped through the crack" of our educational system when they were growing up. The first thing I learned in ABE is that someone who has reached the age of 21 and can't read or write is not necessarily dim-witted or mentally challenged (I won't use the "r" word- it really is too ugly) but just someone who got off-track on the route to adulthood. In fact my students often amaze me with their wisdom and perception. Their enthusuiasm, determination and courage is truly inspiring. In one of my groups, there's a 70 something gentleman whose raeding skills are still long from the 5th grade level but whose wisdom is unique.
Now I'm beginning to understand what fun this kind of work can be.