Slouching Towards Gallantry

This blog will return to its regularly scheduled program shortly, but first:

A PUBLIC SAFETY MESSAGE FROM THE SOUTH KOREA CENTER FOR WELLBEING:

To quell concerns about Michelle's condition, I am happy to announce that it is generally believed that she is going to be fine, though she will need some plastic surgery when she is older to repair the damaged area. 

I am not completely certain about this, as it can be difficult to get direct answers from Koreans at times. Straightforward "yes" or "no" questions are all too frequently answered with "maybe." (Is there a post office nearby? "I don't know, maybe." Did you have a good weekend? "Mmmm, maybe." Is today Wednesday? "Maybe..."). All signs point to recovery, though.

It is also advised that all kindergarteners henceforth wield blunt, soft writing utensils such as crayons or tubes of lipstick. 

We now return to the program:

Now that I've been acting the part of "teacher" for over six months, I've decided to take a close look at my performance and assess my skills. To do so, I will recount certain teaching exploits in the style of a Goofus and Gallant cartoon, a wonderfully antiquated comic intended to teach children manners. I considered creating sketches to go along with each incident, but decided that the mental images conjured up by my descriptions would be more powerful. I am also too lazy to do so. 

So, for the first time ever, Asia Marginalia is proud to bring you:

GOOFUS AND GALLANT IN EFL-LAND

1. On Patience:

Goofus Erin Teacher speaks in rapid-fire English at her students and grows increasingly frantic when she is faced with a classroom of furrowed brows.

Gallant Erin Teacher speaks slowly and clearly to her students and is happy to repeat phrases and explanations three or more times.  

2. On Presumptions:

Goofus Erin Teacher assumes that all of her students should be more advanced according to their level placement and punishes them with disappointed sighs when they do not meet her arbitrary expectations.

Gallant Erin Teacher recognizes that teaching methods as well as learning processes are widely varied and approaches each new challenge with a spring in her step and a song in her heart. 

3. On Presentation:

Goofus Erin Teacher bores her students by sticking to the dull textbook for the entire class period because she cannot think of innovative teaching techniques.

Gallant Erin Teacher performs impromptu, rousing renditions of "America the Beautiful" and "The Star-Spangled Banner" upon request and only has to mumble-sing a few of the lyrics. She then explains the meaning of "national anthem" and encourages her students to sing Korea's. 

4. On Discipline:

Goofus Erin Teacher practices newly acquired Korean phrases on students during English conversation class and urges them to teach her new words and correct her pronunciation. 

Gallant Erin Teacher enforces a strict "English Only" policy in all classes at all times. 

5. On Student-Teacher Relations:

Goofus Erin Teacher responds to a student who announces, "I don't like you, Teacher," with "I don't like you either. Moving right along . . . "

Gallant Erin Teacher treats all students with respect and carefully masks the fact that she would enjoy tossing a choice few out the second-story window. 

6. On Enthusiasm:

Goofus Erin Teacher stays up too late watching television on the internet and lacks sufficient energy in the classroom the next day.

Gallant Erin Teacher dons a siberian tiger hat with attached paws and dances like a robot to begin class. She also learns the dance moves to Korean pop songs and executes them with aplomb while students sing the English portions of the songs (remember: Gallant Erin Teacher will not allow them to sing in Korean). 

7. On Preparation: 

Goofus Erin Teacher completes crossword puzzles at her desk instead of preparing for class. 

Gallant Erin Teacher researches fun and educational language games online in her free time. 

8. On Tact:

Goofus Erin Teacher writes, "WHY DON'T YOU EVER USE ARTICLES?!?!?!?!" with angry strokes of the pen at the bottom of particularly poorly written student diaries.

Gallant Erin Teacher jots encouraging comments on student work and occasionally gives her own responses to diary prompts.

9. On Perseverance: 

Goofus Erin Teacher considers giving up and going home when her workplace becomes a discouraging den of incompetence and disarray. 

Gallant Erin Teacher strives on and on and on . . .  

Grief

In 1969, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced a model for how people deal with with grief, commonly known as the "Five Stages." Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance: not everyone experiences every stage, and they don't necessarily occur in that order, but it's generally accepted as a decent prototype for grieving. Usually the stages are a result of the death of a loved one or some other such incident, but today I found myself sprinting through them faster than Rush Limbaugh is taking down the credibility of the GOP. 

You see, today something not so good happened. In fact, in most circles, one might describe the event as very, very bad. One of my kindergarten students, Michelle, can't be more than 6 or 7 years old. She has attended Hanyang Oregon since I started here six months ago, but we just started a new semester and she moved up a level because of her excellent reading skills. Today I taught my new "story time" class with her, and she did a first-rate job of reading such sentences as "The jam is on the bread" and "The ham is on the bread." I had the students write out these sentences in their notebooks for practice. At the end of class, I exclaimed the usual, "Okay! Clean-up time! Everyone put your books and things away, please!" The children bustled around the room, putting notebooks into cubbies, tossing erasers into boxes. Michelle looked at me, concerned, and said, "Teacher! Not finished!" I told her it was okay, she could finish it later, and left without a second thought. 

A few hours later, I learned that somehow, minutes, maybe seconds later, Michelle tripped, was pushed, bumped into . . . something. By some means, she ended up with the pencil thrust into her skull four centimeters deep, just between her nose and her eye socket. 

My reaction?

1) Denial: I zone out. I am frozen. I feel . . . nothing. I stop listening to the story. Because that's all it is. What? That's absurd, I was with her just hours ago and she was fine. Someone must be exaggerating something. Those kindergarteners cry at the drop of a hat, she probably just poked herself in the forehead or something. 

2) Anger: IDIOT SMALL CHILDREN!!! Why do they always have to be running around and acting like brainless half-wits? STUPID! Well if she wasn't being careful, she probably deserved what was coming to her. ARGH!

3) Bargaining/Guilt (my own addition to the phases): Oh my god. This is completely my fault. If I hadn't been so eager to get back upstairs and actually watched her put her pencil away, this never would have happened. If she ends up okay, I will never, ever neglect my students like this again. 

4) Denial: What? This again? No, it's not a big deal. She's fine. It's not like the pencil actually went into her eye or something and BLINDED her. When you look at it from the right angle, this is actually a very lucky situation.

5) Anger: STUUUUUPIIIIDDD CHIIIILLDREEEEEN!!!!!!!

6) Depression: I shouldn't even bother being a teacher if I can't keep my kids from potentially fatal injuries. Why was I even hired? 

I haven't exactly reached the acceptance stage yet. I just keep pinballing between the first four at an alarming pace. I can't seem to stop thinking about the fact that the human skull is far less than 4 centimeters thick, and that the frontal lobe controls such things as motor function, memory, language, judgment, and social behavior. The fact that Michelle's version of the story doesn't match up with anyone else's--that she may have suffered brain damage. 

I know logically that this could have happened anywhere, at any time. It is a stroke of luck that the pencil didn't dash itself straight into her cornea. But I also can't stop thinking that if I had snatched that pencil right out of her hand, she might be home right now instead of in the ER.