After a complete week of classes, I was already armed with the first paper submissions of the 170 students enrolled in the Business Management subject that I teach.
Angela, my undeniably 9-year old Mini Me, was reading the papers and checking out which one she would like. After picking up one with a respectable cover and with more features than the rest - because she said this one had a goal, and she liked that - Angela has lined up for me the Do's and Do Not's of teaching.
She was at it a good deal of the day so I asked her to write them on paper so I won't forget. Here are the seven points she laid down for me:
1. Once you get inside the classroom say "Good morning" or "Good afternoon".
2. Bad posture is bad so make sure they are seated properly. If they are not, say "Please sit properly: back straight and feet on the ground".
3. If you are discussing and you notice your students are not listening, call their attention for a "quiz" to check if they were listening.
4. Once you told them that you are having a "quiz", tell them you will only say the question 2 times.
5. If they talk to you not in English, do not entertain them.
6. If you want your class to enjoy, have fun or make fun with them at the end of your class.
7. Once you say goodbye, tell them to wait for their next teacher.
P.S. When they ask you why you are so strict or how did you get these ideas tell them: "You will/shall learn the basics in college if you want to be a teacher." Don't tell them your daughter (me) taught you.
The view from a grade school girl! My work load is just two hours a day. But oh boy. My business students will get a surprise next week!
Angela's photo by Mike Mendoza
I was mad earlier today. Instead of using their bathroom, they were in mine. That was fine until they went out forty-five minutes later. All the rolled up clean towels were wet. My sink-side book was wet. Actually, everything was wet - wall cabinets, perfume bottles, everything.
At first instinct, I was mad like any other mom. But at second thought, I paused and laughed like anyone who harbors a pixie in her heart. They were playing of course. And that was fun and I must not deny them that.
I suddenly remembered my Bangkok trip a week ago. After a long time, I found red luscious "makopa" and I made sure I have a bag in the bar in my hotel room. It was a pleasing experience in Thailand munching on the beloved food of my youth while soaking in a warm bath in the tub.
Remembering a few things of that childhood.
Ganging up with other children in the street where we lived, climbing guava trees, staging shadow movies inside the cramped tool cabinet of the family living in the apartment above ours, stealing grapes from another neighbor, humming "Sing a Song" off-key while walking to my school, and running like mad when the geese would come out and chase me.
A water battle is not so bad. Most of all if it is done in one's mother's bathroom.
ME “You really like those chips, do you?”
GELA “Yup. Hey Mom, do you know that there is an animal that will allow itself to die?”
ME “Really? How’d you know that?”
GELA “Teacher said. The praying mantis boy, I mean, the male praying mantis, when the female praying mantis is going to have a birth, he will allow the wife to eat its head.”
NIKA “Eew! But Gela, what birth do you mean?”
GELA “I mean when the female praying mantis is pregnant, will have a child. She will eat the head of the male and then slowly eat the neck and the body.”
ME “That’s gross. I wonder why she’d do that. And the man mantis is okay about it?”
GELA “Yeah. The male praying mantis will be eaten. What a sacrifice. But Teacher was also asking that to us in class. Why?”
ME “But hey Nika, do you know that gorillas are now becoming extinct?”
NIKA “How did you know, Mom?”
ME “Internet.”
NIKA “Pity. Then the time will come Gel, when the turtles are also extinct.”
GELA “And you know, Nik, when I’m already a grandmother I’d say to my grandchildren: I am going to tell you about an animal we used to know when I was a kid. What was that again? What was the name of that animal again?”
ME “Hahahahahaha! Silly.”
NIKA “Yes Gel, you look funny. Hahahahahaha!”
GELA “Then my daughter would say: Oh mom, it’s the turtle. And I’d tell the boy, because my daughter will have a son: Yeah! The tur-tuh! The tur-tuh! What is the tur-tuh again?”
ME “Hahahahahaha! But hey, I thought you said you’re not gonna get married.”
NIKA “Gela’s gonna get married. Gela’s gonna get married!”
ME “But you look funny acting like a grandma.”
GELA “And I’ll tell my grandchildren: Do you know your great grandmother? She is Heidi. But yeah, what was that I’m going to tell you about again? Ah, the tur-tuh…”ME “C’mon girls, let’s finish off the chips and prepare your bags for tomorrow’s class.”
What a drag I must sound, but it's almost bedtime.
Yet it was a happy moment watching Gela act out, standing up on the couch, with Nika at her feet, munching and laughing. Laughing with them is always a treat.Then I realized, I'd also be extinct by the time Gela will be having this conversation with her real grandchildren...I stood up slowly, going to prepare their glasses of water, off to the same invisible highway that the gorillas and the turtles would go.
Painting: Mother and Her Daughters, by Lucette Dallozo
It is a Sunday night and Nika declares she's Group Leader. And she is on the verge of tears.
I promised and promised her but it's not really true. Now everyone in class will call her irresponsible because I haven't really helped finalize the details of her research work. And she's Group Leader.
They will study birds. And she will bring them to the Aviary. Really. It's her idea. And it's only her group that's doing a field research. She informed her group mates her Dad will drive them there. And in the Trooper, not the Sorento. Her mom will prepare the materials. And maybe she'll throw a few hotdogs on sticks too.
The Dad hears none of it. Tears. The Mom has not the time. Tears.
Then it all pours like an avalanche: her classmates do not like her. They push her around and will not listen when she would talk to them. They say she's a noisy disturbance. They bully her around. She is a third grader thrown into a class of fourth, fifth and sixth graders. And she's Group Leader.
There is a lot more. But mothers, who are also secretary generals, graduate students, hopeless dieters, Quadra Pop crazies, struggling cooks, unknown speechwriters and music lovers - they sometimes blot out the talk and the whining.
Then I watch her hunched on the chair. Not the proud first born that I have, but with the look of someone who is already beaten before the race has begun. I cannot let that happen to her.
I wait when the crying stopped a little. Then I go to her and ask her what was needed to be done. Yes I can do this. If I can take battling event sponsors and beat staggering deadlines, then I must do this. Especially this.
We agree. I will prepare the research format. The driver will take her and her group. In the Trooper, not the Revo. There will be snacks. There will be a digital camera. She'll even have sunblock, don't you forget. And I promise to myself that I will talk to her teacher.
She nods. She finally smiles. I ruffle her hair. We move to the family room. I feel something fierce inside me that it seems to fill my heart.
We play Blue Moon in the keyboards together. I play badly, but Nika guides me and waits till I hit the right note. She's Group Leader.
