Georgius-Agricola-Gymnasium
I wanted to write a post about my school, because I haven't said much about it yet. Today, a lovely Year 7 class took me on a tour that they had prepared for me in their English lesson. I learnt that the school is a listed building more than 150 years old, hence the very old-fashioned furniture and decor that they are seemingly not allowed to modernise, and that it has an observatory, an imposing assembly hall, and art rooms that I had no idea existed. It was named after George Bauer, a doctor, scientist and general great guy who was born in the 1400s, and who seems to have had several schools named after him, according to Google; whenever I look up my school on Google maps (which is often, as I'm still not entirely sure where it is), another one in Glauchau of exactly the same name pops up in the list.
Agricola-Gymnasium Chemnitz, however, is special because of its bilingual focus; it is one of only six or seven schools in Sachsen to not only teach English to an amazingly high standard, but also for those who wish to focus on languages to be taught Geography, History and RS in English as well. This is of course why, then, the pupils in the school are so very intimidatingly good at English. To give some kind of example, the first lesson I saw at the beginning of last week was a Year 8 class whose standard of English was genuinely about the same as my German was after GCSE, at the beginning of AS. It is truly embarrassing comparing the foreign-language teaching in British schools to that in Agricola. Of course, as I hastily remind myself, the school is not only a Gymnasium, i.e. for the most academic kids, but it also focuses on teaching English, so there is that valid reason. But even so!
I admit that as someone studying not only a language but also linguistics, there is a tiny possibility that I could be biased towards language-learning and interest in languages in general. But it seems just odd that native English speakers don't need to learn to speak in any other tongue, when you consider the population of the world in general. It is very unusual for people to be monolingual, and realistically it's not even that great an achievement being bilingual either, for most people in the world. However, saying that, I'd late to take a moment to congratulate anyone trying to learn another language "even though we don't need to because everyone already speaks English" (vom), because for the British I think it is a huge achievement being bilingual due to study (rather than acquiring a second language through a parent, and so on). We have to battle our own feeble modern language teaching in schools, retain an interest in learning, and continue studying despite being told that there is no point. Or otherwise, just move to a country where the language is spoken, which, let's face it, can be a terrifying thing to do. So I think we can be just a bit proud that we're at least trying! As we in Britain know, it's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts.
Anyway, back to Agricola. I thought I wouldn't like the younger years very much, but I continue to be amazed by the wonderful enthusiasm of the Year 7s and 8s. It's not unusual for three-quarters of the class to be waving their hands wildly in the air within seconds of a question being asked, and you never need to wait for longer than a split-second for a volunteer to come up to the board, or to do any sort of work really. It could be that my school was just never like that so it seems especially surprising to me, or that I don't remember it being like that because my most recent memories of school are of course of Sixth Form, where no one acted like that, or that the kids at Agricola are just supremely enthusiastic, but either way, it's brilliant.
The Year 9s and 10s, on the other hand, I like slightly less because they are not enthusiastic. They're moody and they don't really care and I think they might know I have no experience, no power to do anything, and no knowledge about teaching. Basically, they know I'm essentially a fraud, and that is why I don't like them - they know too much, and they're suspicious. The older years, on the other hand, are fine because their English is so fluent that it's very easy to talk to them. They're also slightly more interested in me than the 9s and 10s are, which again facilitates conversation. Today I chaired a debate about multiculturalism in a Year 12 class, which was fun, although frustrating having to sit and listen without diving in. It was also annoying having to tell those who were arguing that a diverse society is always a negative thing that they won the debate. God damn this whole 'separating debates from real opinions' thing. Next week I will be joining the headteacher in teaching the Year 13s Shakespeare. Joining The Taming of the Shrew on the English Literature reading list will be...The Fault in Our Stars. Yes, really. So I am marginally less thrilled about that.
My favourite thing to happen so far in a lesson (although the tour today came close, as it was so sweet) was in a class of truly teeny Year 6s last week. Their teacher asked me to introduce myself, which I did, first in English and then in German. The teacher then exclaimed "perfect German accent!" and all the tiny children spontaneously started knocking on the desks, which is when I learnt how one applauds in a German school. I'm sure I have achieved some fairly good things in my life, such as a few arbitrary grades and exam results, but the sense of wellbeing that comes from children applauding your German accent is something else entirely.
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| Note the numerous terrifying statues |
I admit that as someone studying not only a language but also linguistics, there is a tiny possibility that I could be biased towards language-learning and interest in languages in general. But it seems just odd that native English speakers don't need to learn to speak in any other tongue, when you consider the population of the world in general. It is very unusual for people to be monolingual, and realistically it's not even that great an achievement being bilingual either, for most people in the world. However, saying that, I'd late to take a moment to congratulate anyone trying to learn another language "even though we don't need to because everyone already speaks English" (vom), because for the British I think it is a huge achievement being bilingual due to study (rather than acquiring a second language through a parent, and so on). We have to battle our own feeble modern language teaching in schools, retain an interest in learning, and continue studying despite being told that there is no point. Or otherwise, just move to a country where the language is spoken, which, let's face it, can be a terrifying thing to do. So I think we can be just a bit proud that we're at least trying! As we in Britain know, it's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts.
Anyway, back to Agricola. I thought I wouldn't like the younger years very much, but I continue to be amazed by the wonderful enthusiasm of the Year 7s and 8s. It's not unusual for three-quarters of the class to be waving their hands wildly in the air within seconds of a question being asked, and you never need to wait for longer than a split-second for a volunteer to come up to the board, or to do any sort of work really. It could be that my school was just never like that so it seems especially surprising to me, or that I don't remember it being like that because my most recent memories of school are of course of Sixth Form, where no one acted like that, or that the kids at Agricola are just supremely enthusiastic, but either way, it's brilliant.
The Year 9s and 10s, on the other hand, I like slightly less because they are not enthusiastic. They're moody and they don't really care and I think they might know I have no experience, no power to do anything, and no knowledge about teaching. Basically, they know I'm essentially a fraud, and that is why I don't like them - they know too much, and they're suspicious. The older years, on the other hand, are fine because their English is so fluent that it's very easy to talk to them. They're also slightly more interested in me than the 9s and 10s are, which again facilitates conversation. Today I chaired a debate about multiculturalism in a Year 12 class, which was fun, although frustrating having to sit and listen without diving in. It was also annoying having to tell those who were arguing that a diverse society is always a negative thing that they won the debate. God damn this whole 'separating debates from real opinions' thing. Next week I will be joining the headteacher in teaching the Year 13s Shakespeare. Joining The Taming of the Shrew on the English Literature reading list will be...The Fault in Our Stars. Yes, really. So I am marginally less thrilled about that.
My favourite thing to happen so far in a lesson (although the tour today came close, as it was so sweet) was in a class of truly teeny Year 6s last week. Their teacher asked me to introduce myself, which I did, first in English and then in German. The teacher then exclaimed "perfect German accent!" and all the tiny children spontaneously started knocking on the desks, which is when I learnt how one applauds in a German school. I'm sure I have achieved some fairly good things in my life, such as a few arbitrary grades and exam results, but the sense of wellbeing that comes from children applauding your German accent is something else entirely.
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