The First Day of Class

Monday morning, 8:00AM: my first day of class, my first session as a teacher at a University. I am eager to meet my students, to help them learn English, to do a good job.

Of course, that is a daunting prospect. I’ve received no orientation from the school, I have no textbooks to work from, no assigned curriculum and, as I found out upon seeing my classroom for the first time, no resources such as projectors, computers, flipcharts, wall charts or teaching aids. I do have a blackboard and a rich supply of chalk, both white and multi-colored. I have a lectern from which to address my class, which is set on a podium 12 inches off the ground. As if I need to be taller! I resolved to teach class from ground level as much as possible, so that I’m not such a dominant figure to my students.

The classroom is set up ‘lecture style’: one bench row of seats after the other, all bolted to the tile floor. Moving the desks around into various groupings, as suggested by my recently completed TESOL course will be impossible. The classroom is not air conditioned, but the windows are open and there are fans that twirl noisily overhead. Thankfully a student knew how to turn them on; I couldn’t have located the switches for them if I tried.

And speaking of located: let me back up and tell you about where my classroom is located. Building 2, 6th floor. Fortunately I could identify building 2 by the big golden “2” on the front of the building. I followed the stream of students in, turned right and followed the masses up the staircase. By the time I hit the 3rd floor, I was panting; 4th floor I was sweating, 5th floor I was frantic. Not for my health, but because that is where the stairs ended. How do I get to the 6th floor? I’m so confused…

I brave the tide of students climbing up to go back down the stairs and ask the kindly campus policeman sitting at the door how to get to the 6th floor. He did not understand me, even though I used my best broken Chinese. Again saved by serendipity, one of my students came by and offered to lead me to my classroom, directly accessible by climbing the back staircase, whose existence I knew nothing about. There really should have been some orientation!

Class starts at 8AM sharp and the bell doesn’t let you forget that. Each session consists of two 45 minutes instruction sessions, with a 5-minute break in between. The bell doesn’t let you forget the break, either. Doing quick math reveals that I am in fact teaching for one hour and a half per session. The 9:35 bell releases the students to their next lesson, and me of my teaching obligations for the rest of the day. For my first 3 weeks, I only have 2 sessions per week, until the freshmen hit campus.

I ‘mapped’ the board as I was taught in my TESOL class: a greeting in the center with open space to write notes and instructions for the lesson, the day’s agenda on the left and the class rules on the right. I made sure to include an extra section for questions and feedback. At five minutes till 8, with the board set up, I was ready to start class. Well… ready?

I am not, and have never been a morning person, even now that I’ve been off coffee for 2 years. Yet here I am, bright and early, confronting 28 curious and eager faces that express wonder about this strange, foreign giant. I, with only a TESOL certificate under my belt and virtually no classroom experience, certainly none teaching languages or university students in general, wondered how to begin.

I was informed my class monitor would have my class roster, and Lily did not disappoint. She passed the list around, and everyone wrote their English name on it. I knew to expect 28 students, so this first day I counted heads instead of taking roll, because the students had the list.

I gave a rousing ‘Good Morning’, which the students returned enthusiastically. I then explained the agenda, led the class through the rules, explaining my reason for each rule as I went along: Speak English, no cell phones, ask questions, ask for help/help others, give feedback, have fun. And then, I introduced the day’s activity: each student was to introduce him/herself, and tell us something about themselves. I kicked off the activity by introducing myself: My name is Sophia, my Chinese name is Le Si (meaning happy thoughts), I like to travel and meet new people. Each student introduced themselves in kind.

The strange thing about Chinese people is that they are so agreeable. “Do you understand the rules?” Everyone nods or vocalizes assent. “Do you understand the instructions?” Nods all around again. I have yet to meet any dissent or disagreement in my students; they are all eager to agree to anything I say, whether they understand or not. That leads to some confusion; if they don’t tell me they don’t understand the instructions for any given activity, come time to call on them to take part in the activity I am met with a lot of stalling and general confusion on their part. This is a cultural gap that I must somehow breach.

Another one is the girls’ demeanor in class. They are not badly behaved or otherwise undesirable as students, it is the fact that they are taught to be demure and gentle. Speaking up is for peasants and boys; young ladies speak quietly. So quietly that my poor old ears, damaged from the rock’n’roll concerts I shamelessly partook of in my youth, can barely hear them over the noise of the fans overhead and the noise coming in from the open windows and the noise coming in from the hall. I have yet to find my way around that problem as well: encouraging them to speak up does nothing. Currently I stand as close as possible to them and listen as they whisper their answers. Sometimes I feel like I’m eavesdropping, but I have the sneaky suspicion they are enjoying the closeness.

Before I knew it, it was 9:35 and the bell was ringing! I was surprised at how the time flew, at how the students responded, at how they left the room: each paraded past me, smiling and wishing me a good day. That was my first clue that I had made a positive impact.

After cleaning the board off and policing my room, I descended the back stairwell and left Building 2. Walking among students rushing to their next class and feeling the sunshine on my face, I thought, for the first time, that maybe I didn’t make a horrible mistake coming here.