Happy October! (Already!?)
This week I've had my first experiences with real teaching, rather than the previous weeks of mostly sitting at the back of the classroom and introducing myself to every class, regardless of whether I had met them before. Children all look the same, okay? They're all reserved, suspicious, and kind of hostile until you get them to talk to you, and I can't tell any of them apart, let alone learn their names.
As I still didn't have a timetable, I was informed of my Monday off work on Sunday evening, via WhatsApp. Difficult though it has been, I am finally beginning to get over the utter weirdness of WhatsApping with teachers - teachers should email! Or talk to face to face! Not text or use instant messaging for goodness sake! After a day of freedom, on Monday evening I was informed, via the same medium, that I had a class the next day. So, I turned up to that class feeling fresh and ready for another hour and a half of sitting in the classroom and possibly reading out a few sentences in English. Instead, I was rudely awakened when I entered the staffroom and was told off for not having come to see the teacher the day before to find out what she wanted me to do. I was then handed a lesson plan and told to go through it, write fifteen or so questions relating to a newspaper article to ask the kids, and generally take half of the ninety-minute lesson. My protests that I hadn't had any idea that I was meant to be in that class until the night before fell on deaf ears at first, until my apologetic and mildly panicked expression seemed to eventually have an impression on the teacher, who forgave me, patted me a bit and said we could do it together. It went okay in the end; I don't think that is going to be the scariest thing I'll be asked to do this year, by a long way.
Today, in fact, was a lot scarier. Following instructions conscientiously, I had spoken to the teachers the previous day to find out what they wanted me to do. Unfortunately, I had two year 6 classes in a row, so when I questioned the teachers about what they were studying, the answers were so similar that I became somewhat confused. The first lesson was about Harry Potter - we talked about it, read an extract from the Philosopher's Stone about Harry's first flying lesson, and then they asked me questions which I answered from Harry's perspective. I had a really lovely time in that lesson. I felt useful, as I could tell them the English words for various HP terms (a favourite was Todesser = Death Eater), and unusually, I didn't feel like the nerdiest Harry Potter fan in the room; a girl called Marscha (spelling?) knew everything about it, and managed to ask me a question I didn't know the answer to (Q: Who was the headteacher before Dumbledore? A: Professor Dippet. Damn.).
So that was delightful. The following lesson, unfortunately, was the one I had thought was about Harry Potter but actually had nothing to do with it. It was also with Heike, my mentor, whose lessons I had surprisingly never been in before. Alarmingly, as soon as I walked in, she gathered up her things, went to the back of the classroom, and started marking, leaving me to take centre-stage. This wouldn't have been a problem had I had any idea what they had been doing before I walked in. As it was, I didn't have a clue. I remember how it felt in school when there was a supply-teacher who'd have to ask various questions about what you'd covered in that subject so far; it was always awkward and annoying and you felt as though they didn't know anything about you or what you were supposed to be doing. Then they'd make up some activity to occupy time, and it felt entirely pointless. Well, I can confirm that the reason it feels like that is because they really don't know anything about you or what you are supposed to be doing. Although that's definitely unfair to the numerous very competent and well-informed supply-teachers that exist, for me, walking into a classroom like that with no experience of the pupils or their syllabus was extremely daunting.
After I'd tested the water with a few Harry-Potter-related questions (they were not interested) and attempted an activity involving listing adjectives (vocab! Useful!) relating to the characteristics of each Hogwarts house (which the previous class would have loved, I'm certain), I gave up on Harry Potter and did a basic vocabulary game about synonyms and antonyms which I had thought of the evening before. I've managed to lose my list of word-games and any other useful information I had before coming here, so classes are basically going to be the most imaginative and least boring things I can come up with in a short space of time, equipped with limited creativity. In the end, the kids did show some interest in the game, I think because I made it competitive. Either that, or it was my bold use of different-coloured chalk on the blackboard (greenboard).
Finally, today I discovered just how difficult blackboards are to use. Firstly, they are harder to write on than a whiteboard, which are hard enough when it's on a wall and you're standing in front of a roomful of children, all of whom will instantly lose interest the second you turn your back. Secondly, your hands and possibly face and clothes get covered with chalk dust which feels sticky and somewhat unprofessional. And thirdly, they are a bugger to clean. If you use a damp sponge it's all very well at the time - a lovely and clean, albeit wet, slate! How nice! - but it soon dries into a smeary mess. I remember we had at least one or two blackboards in my Junior School, because one universally-hated teacher insisted that she liked them, but we didn't use damp sponges to clean them so I was not familiar with the method of, after the lesson, carefully wiping the board in long, smooth strokes, first up and down and then side to side, to make it perfectly spotless and clean again (until it dries, and then you can see the stripes of chalk left by the sponge, of course). So after the lesson I just wiped it as you wipe a whiteboard - where there are words that need to be removed - and thought that was enough. Heike then asked the unfortunate last pupil left in the classroom after the bell to clean the board in an 'ordentlich' way, which would have been fine, by itself. Sadly, another teacher, who had come in to start setting up at that point, heard her, exclaimed at the sight of the board, and asked "who cleaned it?!", as if to say, "what ridiculous moronic person would think that that board was in an acceptable state?"
So, pausing only to take a vow of eternal hatred against that teacher, I learnt my lesson regarding blackboards and walked out of the room, having survived the class, at least. Hopefully things will get easier, and teachers will become more helpful. It was a bit of shock having so little help in that class, because otherwise they have been brilliant. Today, for example, Frau Reinhold asked me to prepare a half-hour or so lesson for the Year 10s about the differences between American and British English - but not until after the holiday, and not until Week B, so...not until November. That is the amount of warning and specific nature of task that I like. Just being told "do a word game" or "do something to do with sport" is very unhelpfully vague; knowing what the pupils have been doing beforehand and what they respond well to is just invaluable when it comes to being able to prepare for them.
In other news
As I still didn't have a timetable, I was informed of my Monday off work on Sunday evening, via WhatsApp. Difficult though it has been, I am finally beginning to get over the utter weirdness of WhatsApping with teachers - teachers should email! Or talk to face to face! Not text or use instant messaging for goodness sake! After a day of freedom, on Monday evening I was informed, via the same medium, that I had a class the next day. So, I turned up to that class feeling fresh and ready for another hour and a half of sitting in the classroom and possibly reading out a few sentences in English. Instead, I was rudely awakened when I entered the staffroom and was told off for not having come to see the teacher the day before to find out what she wanted me to do. I was then handed a lesson plan and told to go through it, write fifteen or so questions relating to a newspaper article to ask the kids, and generally take half of the ninety-minute lesson. My protests that I hadn't had any idea that I was meant to be in that class until the night before fell on deaf ears at first, until my apologetic and mildly panicked expression seemed to eventually have an impression on the teacher, who forgave me, patted me a bit and said we could do it together. It went okay in the end; I don't think that is going to be the scariest thing I'll be asked to do this year, by a long way.
Today, in fact, was a lot scarier. Following instructions conscientiously, I had spoken to the teachers the previous day to find out what they wanted me to do. Unfortunately, I had two year 6 classes in a row, so when I questioned the teachers about what they were studying, the answers were so similar that I became somewhat confused. The first lesson was about Harry Potter - we talked about it, read an extract from the Philosopher's Stone about Harry's first flying lesson, and then they asked me questions which I answered from Harry's perspective. I had a really lovely time in that lesson. I felt useful, as I could tell them the English words for various HP terms (a favourite was Todesser = Death Eater), and unusually, I didn't feel like the nerdiest Harry Potter fan in the room; a girl called Marscha (spelling?) knew everything about it, and managed to ask me a question I didn't know the answer to (Q: Who was the headteacher before Dumbledore? A: Professor Dippet. Damn.).
So that was delightful. The following lesson, unfortunately, was the one I had thought was about Harry Potter but actually had nothing to do with it. It was also with Heike, my mentor, whose lessons I had surprisingly never been in before. Alarmingly, as soon as I walked in, she gathered up her things, went to the back of the classroom, and started marking, leaving me to take centre-stage. This wouldn't have been a problem had I had any idea what they had been doing before I walked in. As it was, I didn't have a clue. I remember how it felt in school when there was a supply-teacher who'd have to ask various questions about what you'd covered in that subject so far; it was always awkward and annoying and you felt as though they didn't know anything about you or what you were supposed to be doing. Then they'd make up some activity to occupy time, and it felt entirely pointless. Well, I can confirm that the reason it feels like that is because they really don't know anything about you or what you are supposed to be doing. Although that's definitely unfair to the numerous very competent and well-informed supply-teachers that exist, for me, walking into a classroom like that with no experience of the pupils or their syllabus was extremely daunting.
After I'd tested the water with a few Harry-Potter-related questions (they were not interested) and attempted an activity involving listing adjectives (vocab! Useful!) relating to the characteristics of each Hogwarts house (which the previous class would have loved, I'm certain), I gave up on Harry Potter and did a basic vocabulary game about synonyms and antonyms which I had thought of the evening before. I've managed to lose my list of word-games and any other useful information I had before coming here, so classes are basically going to be the most imaginative and least boring things I can come up with in a short space of time, equipped with limited creativity. In the end, the kids did show some interest in the game, I think because I made it competitive. Either that, or it was my bold use of different-coloured chalk on the blackboard (greenboard).
Finally, today I discovered just how difficult blackboards are to use. Firstly, they are harder to write on than a whiteboard, which are hard enough when it's on a wall and you're standing in front of a roomful of children, all of whom will instantly lose interest the second you turn your back. Secondly, your hands and possibly face and clothes get covered with chalk dust which feels sticky and somewhat unprofessional. And thirdly, they are a bugger to clean. If you use a damp sponge it's all very well at the time - a lovely and clean, albeit wet, slate! How nice! - but it soon dries into a smeary mess. I remember we had at least one or two blackboards in my Junior School, because one universally-hated teacher insisted that she liked them, but we didn't use damp sponges to clean them so I was not familiar with the method of, after the lesson, carefully wiping the board in long, smooth strokes, first up and down and then side to side, to make it perfectly spotless and clean again (until it dries, and then you can see the stripes of chalk left by the sponge, of course). So after the lesson I just wiped it as you wipe a whiteboard - where there are words that need to be removed - and thought that was enough. Heike then asked the unfortunate last pupil left in the classroom after the bell to clean the board in an 'ordentlich' way, which would have been fine, by itself. Sadly, another teacher, who had come in to start setting up at that point, heard her, exclaimed at the sight of the board, and asked "who cleaned it?!", as if to say, "what ridiculous moronic person would think that that board was in an acceptable state?"
So, pausing only to take a vow of eternal hatred against that teacher, I learnt my lesson regarding blackboards and walked out of the room, having survived the class, at least. Hopefully things will get easier, and teachers will become more helpful. It was a bit of shock having so little help in that class, because otherwise they have been brilliant. Today, for example, Frau Reinhold asked me to prepare a half-hour or so lesson for the Year 10s about the differences between American and British English - but not until after the holiday, and not until Week B, so...not until November. That is the amount of warning and specific nature of task that I like. Just being told "do a word game" or "do something to do with sport" is very unhelpfully vague; knowing what the pupils have been doing beforehand and what they respond well to is just invaluable when it comes to being able to prepare for them.
In other news
- I signed up for a German conversation class of B2/C1 level, which apparently involves visiting museums and buildings of note in order to discuss art and architecture, among other things.
- I'm considering signing up for a dance class that is a bit like belly-dancing but a bit not. I probably will because I've entirely lost the capacity for embarrassment; that feeling is alien to me now.
- My bike's gears now work and the tyres are nice and hard (ooer) since its visit to the bike shop yesterday. Hooray! Although the steep hill up to my house is still too exhausting for me to be able to think of it without internally wincing.
- I've discovered Sachsen-Allee, another of Chemnitz's many shopping centres, after Ronny recommended it because of its free wifi. I took advantage of that today and yesterday, and also bought speakers in MediaMarkt and a desk lamp so I can crochet without damaging my eyesight due to lack of light.
- Today I bought the wrong f-ing bulb for the aforementioned lamp (I wildly overestimated how many watts it could take) so its christening has been postponed until I can face the cycle ride up the hill again to exchange the lightbulb.
- At the moment the plan is to go to a basketball game this Sunday, which could be fun! And the weather this weekend is supposed to be good so I'm hoping to go to the Erzgebirge tomorrow (the Ore Mountains) and vaguely trek around a bit.
- I still haven't managed to use the internet provided by the flat, as it's cable, but the lovely Steve who lives on the floor above has allowed me to use his wifi! So now I can use the internet in the kitchen and it slightly works in the living room too and I am as happy as a happy thing.
- The decision has been made to go home for a few days of my holiday, which starts on 17th October. I know some will say this is unwise, but: I have two whole weeks for my holiday, not all of which could be filled by travelling; there's not much happening in Chemnitz that I'd be missing; I'm still going to go to Vienna; and there's nothing that would make me happier at the moment than seeing my family and eating humous, So I'm going to do it, and it will be lovely! I can't wait.
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