I happen to be up in the English lab preparing for class. M. Oliver, with whom I recently went to lecture at his other school, comes in and announces, "tomorrow we have a meeting, I don't know when I got the letter on the fourteenth. I could not tell you because you have no cell phone."
Of course, he could have told me when we talked on Monday, or even when I spent all afternoon of the fourteenth with him, but rather it is the fault of mine for not having a cell phone. As though such reasoning is any reason at all. It is glorious to not have a phone. If I wanted to actually contact anyone I might feel differently, but as the person I usually most want to talk to is myself, there is no need for a phone. At receiving this piece of news, I had to at once replan my day. I could still have the lesson plan, but I needed to revise my idea for Wednesday and come up with some homework. This I did, and was pleased at my students' regret that I would not be in class Wednesday.
Part of the problem had now been solved. I still, though, had no idea where this mysterious meeting was going to be. I asked Oliver when he was going to go, and he declared sometime after his courses "after all, these things never start on time, it is Africa." I wanted to be there at the start time of eight, though. Well at last I found Rev. Beson who was going at 8.30. Since this was the earliest I could find, we went. And would you believe it, the meeting had already started! This is the first time since getting to Cameroon that something started on time. I knew at once that I was in for a treat. And further, this was no run-of-the mill annual meeting, it was a full-fledged Pedagogy seminar. From 8.45 until 2 we had solid discussion and lectures. There were no breaks for the bathroom and no food or drinks provided. The latter point proved far the most contentious as all seemed to think we had been treated unfairly. But, I asked sweetly, if this is the yearly affair that you all know so well, would you not expect there to be no food or drink and thus plan accordingly?
There were three speakers. The first was a consummate teacher of Grammar who had a whole system worked out for teaching: Start by introducing the lesson, then make a presentation, then practice the presented "focus" of the day, and then evaluate. Seems pretty self-explanatory, but oophta it caused some problems. I was pleased that most of what he was saying fit nicely into the patterns I have been developing through my trial and experience. He then broke us down into groups and gave us different assignments. Our small group was to analyze a procedure for "presenting: has been...-ing...for..." and to use the imaginary situation that "a woman starts waiting for a bus at four o'clock. At five o'clock the bus comes. She's been waiting for an hour." We then had the lesson plan and had to put them in the correct order. Now it could just be that I am brilliant, but all the sentences had the keyword that the presenter had just focused on himself. Thus it was a simple matter of lining them up. But woah, my horses skidded to a halt. Another member of the group wanted to rewrite the sentences because his pedagogy was different. Hardly the way to show mastery of a topic, especially when his way would create mass confusion. And so I was in the group that was scolded for not being able to attend to a simple task. I hate group work.
1- The teacher says "she's been waiting for an hour" and asks the class to repeat it.
2- The teacher explains how the structure is formed.
3- The teacher writes the sentence on the board: She's been waiting for an hour.
4- The teacher gives other situations and examples: Another person arrived at 4.30. He's been waiting for half an hour. etc.
5- The teacher asks the class to copy the sentence.
6- The teacher asks individual students to repeat the sentence.
How did you do? (correct order: 3, 1, 6, 4, 2, 5)
One of the most interesting discussions arose from the first question wherein the group had to analyze four different methods of making presentations about comparisons. In the first, the teacher calls two students to the front of the room. In the second she draws lines on the board. In the third, she talks about random buildings in town (post office is bigger than bank) and in the fourth she draws two pictures on the board rather than lines.
Now this is exactly what I am interested in because it concerns controlling the class. The other teachers, the majority, wanted to call students to the front. I rose in grand defiance. This offers an opportunity for disruption, the other students will wonder why they were not called and think that by raising their voice they shall be chosen "next." Another said this would not happen if I could control my class (valid), but I responded that no matter what you ask the students to compare, they will make their own. Thus you are asking for students to be mocked. Perhaps the short kid you chose is seriously self-conscious about his height. Perhaps you pick a Muslim by accident and ask an offensive question. Perhaps you pick a child with long hair who is also very fat. You say this one has longer hair than that, but everyone is thinking "this one is fatter than that...Mary is fat...hahaha." I won the day and argued that the best is putting men on the board with cartoonishly large features. This is my own strategy, anyway. But since this is workshopping, it was productive to have to defend my own strategies.
The second talk concerned reading comprehension. (are you still reading? is this terribly dull for you?, o reader? next week will be more voyeuristically thrilling). This was really great because I have no idea how to do it. Unfortunately the lady with her loud yellow dress and voice (a bit of zeugma there) was quite distracting. She stood while she screamed with her belly in my nose and I rose to move when she turned her back. She completed her circle and blinked owlishly in surprise, for the head of curly hair that was formerly where the button of her belly would be had vanished.
The main points here, that I will definitely adopt, are to generate interest by having the students speak among themselves about the subject of the approaching reading. Thus, if the reading is on a birthday party, have them talk about that. Then generate a list of likely vocabulary. Then provide very simple guiding questions on the board. Following this, the learner (never student!) should read silently. And then comes a more detailed set of questions (drawing conclusions, explaining reasons, etc) and finally ask for a brief summary.
Really helpful, I think.
And after this came the business aspect of the whole affair and was to me the most frustrating, because much of my confusion could have been clarified if I had known upon my first day the information that this man related.
In every classroom, there is a blue book. I had no idea what this mysterious blue book was for for the first four weeks of school. Every once in a while, though, a student would gesture to it and in turn I would open it and nod sagely. But it turns out that this book is then sent on to the government regional pedagogy committee who reviews the various lessons and makes mysterious decisions. Now, if only I had known this at the beginning of the year. Everything would be so organized. Instead of metamorphizing into the proverbial beheaded chicken, I'd have moved fluidly through my various forms and functions of being an English teacher. But Thursday and today I made awesome entries into the blue book. I wrote the date, the time of the class, the objective, the lesson plan, and my thoughts on its success. I also noted what did not work. I also noted the homework and when it was due.
But from this information about technical aspects, I received the most astonishing piece of world-shattering news. The system here has no interest in even half the students passing. There was a question about entering grades. The lecturer wrote on the board the various levels of scores (scores here are out of 20 not 100). And it was as follows:
less than 7.5
betwen 7.5 and 8.5
between 8.5 and 10
greater than 10
So for the past weeks when I have lamented the lamentable scores of my students and been greeted with their open acclamation at what I considered egregious marks, they were actually celebrating because in some perverse way they had done well for getting close to fifty percent.
Now I must be missing something, I though, but then I entered my mid-trimester grades in the computer system. This system writes comments at the end of the line. Here is one score
9.5/20 bien assez [good enough]
a score of 19 gets an excellent, but 15 gets a very good.
And then 6.5 weak
4.5 very weak.
And henceforth I shall enter the class armed with the knowledge that I have insane standards.
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