The company I work for has a lot of people who don’t actually teach. They try to justify their jobs by occasionally  watching me teach. They typically do this on the worst day possible. Today, there was a twist as it was a good day to observe but my students weren’t that good.

The plan was for the observer to watch my junior high students give their speech contest speeches. Class started well: I spoke English, students responded in English and I asked who had their “treasure”. That’s when problems started.

The speech topic is “show and tell” which, by definition, requires the students to bring something to class to show. If they don’t, they get to do the speech on speech day and then do it again the next class when they bring their treasures. (Note: the record is four do-overs.)

After I asked who had their treasure, only seven of 20 students raised their hands. After a few minutes of “no really, who has their treasure?” and “Stop fucking around, who has their treasure?” it became clear that I’d need a second class to finish speeches. The observer, lets call him Fascist Fred, watched me with a “what ya gonna do aboudit” look.

I went into improv mode and announced that since there were so many do-overs, today was a second practice day. Any one who brought their treasure would get extra points as would anyone who could do their speech with no paper. (Note: this class has lots of extra classes compared to other classes I teach, so I was looking for any excuse to burn an extra day/stall.)

I gave the students 15 minutes to practice and then we started the speeches. That got us through the class, but I was disappointed with the number of students who didn’t memorize, even in a higher level class.

In the end I think I looked professional enough, and the class seemed to go smoothly.  The few students brought their treasures did an excellent job on their speeches which means they won’t be punished if they forget their treasures next week.

It also means they’ll probably go to the school speech contest, which some of them consider punishment.

One of the reasons I don’t mind teaching the kinds of classes I taught today on what’s supposed to be a day off are that it’s fun to teach students who actually want to learn English.

The students are part of a program that is preparing them to study in the USA, the UK or Australia. Rather than participate in the full time version of the course, they’ve taken on extra homework–in theory anyway, if not always in practice–and opted to give up their Sundays while they stay in their regular high schools.

Every now and then university students join the program, but that’s less common. This is good because the age difference often leads to creepy situations where a guy is flirting with a woman and talking about how his plans are to go to graduate school and she’s like “Grandpa, can I like graduate high school first? I’m like 17 or something.” (I saw this happen and then encouraged the heartbroken guy to 1) be more aware of his surroundings; 2) lead with the age check; and 3) recognize that going to graduate school isn’t sexy.)

The school itself has an English Only rule that applies to the entire floor, even during breaks. The Japanese staff also conduct business in English. If Japanese is required, they take the student to a different room.

The students try to sneak in some Japanese yet don’t realize how loud their sudden silence sounds. They also use the Japanese skill of communicating without talking, a skill that involves expressions, frowns, lip reading and possible proof of ESP. I’ve seen Japanese have five minute conversations like that. The problem is, I was the only one who can’t understand it; everyone else in the room could making it less secret than it could have been.

I’ll teach the class at least one more time, possible two, and then try to lobby for a few more. I may lose a Sunday but it’s easy work and pays well. It’s also fun to chat with students in English.

Thanks to a student, I didn’t have a lunch date today but I might have one tomorrow and on Friday.

I’ve mentioned before how the start of the autumn term involves speech contest speeches. For junior high school the topics, like the high school ones, have been set in stone for over a decade. The 1st year (7th grade) junior high students do a self-introduction, the 2nd year (8th graders) do show-and-tell and the 3rd year (9th graders) do a comparison/contrast/occasionally persuasive speech.

This year I have 2nd year junior high and the speech contest has a couple unique problems. First, because they’ve been through one speech contest, everyone already has a good idea who is going to win. In my lower level classes, they know that they are unlikely to win so they plan accordingly by doing very little work on their speeches. The first couple classes are spent wrangling students and speeches. If students don’t finish, they get to meet me during lunch time and finish while I watch and sigh. (Today, a student finished at the last minute cancelling our lunch date.)

Second, because the topic is show-and-tell it requires that they actually have an item to show. I also have several rules about that, the main one being “no pens, pencils, erasers or, for that matter, anything in your desk or pencil case”. There are exceptions made, but only if the students see me first.  Inevitably, though, one student will choose eraser because, out of all the things in the world, his dollar store eraser is the most important thing in the world. (Two students actually did have interesting “my eraser is my treasure” speeches and I gave them permission to continue.) One student this year, though, started with eraser and I sent him back to rewrite it. He returned with a speech about his mechanical pencil.

He has until Friday to finish rewriting it.

Third, because the show part of show-and-tell is kind of important, the students are expected to actually bring something to show. Usually, half the class forgets which means half the class has to do their speeches twice. In the past I’ve had students change the description of their tennis rackets so they could use their friend’s racket. I don’t mind this as much–even when three people have the same treasure–but it depends on what mood I’m in.

Tomorrow I have a class where only three students out of 14 turned in a speech. Luckily, their class meets right before lunch and I have time to eat before class.

I may be watching and sighing, but at least I’ll be fed.

After Almost 26 years of teaching in various forms I’m rarely surprised. Today, though, my worst bad class surprised me for the better and the dumbfounded.

Traditionally, at the school where I work, the first two classes of the year for second and third year junior high school (8th and 9th grade) are spent chasing down and checking speeches for the annual speech contest. It is also a tradition for the foreign staff to guess how many students will actually 1) have a speech ready on the first day 2) be able to finish a speech on the first day and 3) actually have the worksheet for the speech.

(Note: I always declare on day one that if they are not finished it is okay. If they claim their dog ate their paper, I say “I hope your dog is okay”. If they don’t have their speech for the second class, I say I hope their dog died.”)

Being the optimist that I am not, I predicted that only two students would have finished speeches. The more optimistic of my colleagues predicted three and two.

The problems started when I arrived in class: the name calling started, although with less energy than usual and two students had decided to give themselves new seats at the back. I let them sit there as they were more interested in talking to each other than disrupting class.

After that start, though, things got better. Five students brought up finished and actually usable speeches. (One, if the author speaks well, has a chance to win it all.) By the end of the class, all but two students (guess which two) had finished their speeches and some had given me the rewritten draft I’d told them to write.

With a couple minutes left I called up the students at the back and told them to show me their speeches. The one that actually came up–who also happens to be one of the name callers–handed me a finished, surprisingly good speech. I was dumbfounded. Since he hadn’t even taken out a pencil or pen all class, he must have finished it at home. If he’d given it to me earlier, he wouldn’t have lost points. In fact, he’d have earned bonus points. (Instead the talking all class earned him a 0.)

I still don’t understand the logic behind not showing  me the speech. Actually, now that I think about it, I do understand: teenager.

As for the other student, he gave me attitude and showed me a blank paper. I told him he had to show me his finished speech next week or he’d have to come in at lunch and finish.

Knowing him, I just made a lunch date for next week. But I’ve already lost one bet this year.

At the school where I work we are, on occasion, “encouraged” to help students pass. This can get kind of complicated.

In a nutshell, the school where I work is connected to a major private university. Students who graduate the high school with high enough marks (and, quite frankly, those “high enough marks” are pretty low) get automatic recommendation to the university without having to take the university entrance exam.

Those who fail have to take the exam. Because of this, the marks the students get in their third year of high school (US 12th grade) can make or break their university entrance. Because the university needs more boys (long story) the university encourages the high school to send more boys.

(Note: My suggestion is to advertise the university as “overrun by beautiful women” and the problem will take care of itself. Hell, even I might go back to school. If, ahem, of course, I were not married I would. Of course.)

In my case, I’ve only had pressure to pass one student and that was resolved by math and illness.  One of the ways a student can fail is to miss 30% or more of the total classes. I had a student do that and suddenly found myself in a meeting with lots of school brass who told me sad stories about the boy. They had the saddest, most serious faces you’ve ever seen. Finally, someone asked me when the student had been absent. It turned out that one batch of absences coincided with him having the flu. Students with the flu are banned from school for several days which means their absences don’t count.

You’ll rarely see a happier group of men unless alcohol is involved. I told them if he handed in his final assignment they could go ahead and change the score. He did and they did. At no point, I might add, did I ever get a chance to talk to the student. It was all done through proxies. Even when he turned in his final assignment.

The worst ever pressurization (so to speak), and in many ways the most ridiculous, happened to a friend and former colleague. She failed a student who’d only shown up to the first two classes and then never came back again. It’s no joke to say she couldn’t have picked him out of a police line up. She would have said “the empty space at the end of the line of boys looks like him” and that would have been about as well as she could have done.

However, the then brass approached her and asked her to pass him. She quite reasonably pointed out it wouldn’t be fair to the students who’d actually attended class and actually done work for her to pass a guy who resembled negative space.  After more pressure she agreed to pass him if he did the assignments.

A couple days later she was told that it was too difficult for him. She explained something along the lines of “that’s what happens when you are negative space and not a student”. After more pressure she offered samples of other students’ work as examples.

A few days after that she got the assignments back and, well, lets just say there’s angry and then there’s “I’m going to nuke the whole f@#king world and laugh while it burns” angry.

She was angrier than that.

The student had not only copied the sample assignments word for word, he’d also copied her comments. In the end she threw the marks form at the people pressuring her and said something along the lines of you write what you think he deserves. In the end, the student passed.

I don’t know if, during this process, she actually met the student.

I just hope they gave him a perfect score. That would have been the perfect end to all that.