Georgius-Agricola-Gymnasium Part 2

My first post of this name was one of the very first blog posts I ever wrote (the third, in fact. You can have a look at it again, if you want). Cringeworthy though it absolutely is to return to your previous writing - I am still scarred from rereading a diary I wrote when I was about eleven that is just tragically, crippingly boring - it was one of the main reasons I wanted to keep a blog this year; being able to look back and remember the small details of your daily life that you would otherwise have forgotten is really lovely.

In terms of life at Georgius-Agricola-Gymnasium - it has been brilliant. Not all the time, obviously, there have been some truly frustrating parts to it too - let me briefly count the ways. The top spot for annoyingness must be occupied by the printer situation: there is one functioning printer in the entire school that is manned by a succession of receptionists of varying levels of helpfulness, ranging from 'yep just use my computer to log into your email and print the thing you need', to 'no you cannot touch my computer, only I can touch my computer, and neither can I use your memory stick to get your files because we are not allowed to put foreign memory sticks in the computer in case there's a virus on them, and you can email me the worksheet you want printed but will I a) pretend not to get the email for ninety minutes and b) bring it to you literally as your lesson for which you needed it ends'.

There were also other, less dramatic annoyances; being told things like 'do something about sport/the media/Britain for twenty minutes at the end of the class' with absolutely no context for what the kids have previously been learning in that lesson or indeed in the unit at all was very annoying. It felt as though I was pointlessly filling time that could have usefully been taken up with getting through the syllabus. Also annoying was preparing full lessons straight out of the textbook; I resented this not only because a language assistant is not meant to be the teacher, but also because not only are we not meant to be the teacher, we also literally had two days of training on 'how to teach'. If I am left to teach a lesson from the textbook I will almost certainly go about it in a less productive way than the actual, literal, seven-years-of-training-have-gone-into-this teacher. 

Even if a lesson had not gone particularly well though, as long as I was fulfilling my proper role in the school I felt as though it wasn't a waste of time. If the kids weren't interested in something I'd prepared, fine - maybe I'd done it in a boring way, maybe it just wasn't an interesting topic, maybe they were having a bad day, maybe I was having a bad day - it's all fine. The truly frustrating thing was sitting at the back of the class doing nothing when I felt as though I could usefully have added to the pupils' learning. This was especially the case with the 12th Grade. At the beginning of the year I was placed in two separate 12th classes. After a few months I asked to be moved from one of them because I had not once made or been asked to make a single meaningful contribution to the lesson. The other class was in the same situation but unfortunately it was also taught by the headteacher, so I couldn't ask to be moved for fear of upsetting his already totally irrational sensibilities. It was only a shame because the 12th Graders have astonishingly good (completely fluent) English. At this level, you cannot realistically learn much more from another non-native speaker, as only a native speaker will notice and correct the tiny mistakes. So it was frustrating, because I felt I could have helped them to improve even more, and also because I kept hearing all the mistakes the teacher was making while being unable to correct them.

The only real problem I've encountered this year is that being a language assistant is a role that doesn't completely suit me. I've really enjoyed almost every single lesson where I got to teach independently, while pretty much invariably disliking being given boring textbook exercises to go through. I've loved discussing English and its many ridiculous features, but have got frustrated at correcting the same mistakes more than 5000 times in one lesson. It's been great having very little responsibility, and it has also been infuriating and provided the feeling that my life has no meaning and I might as well just not bother turning up because who would even notice? This has all taught me both that I love teaching and also that there is no way I can be a language teacher, at least at this stage of my life. It is way too intense and monotonous and emotional and difficult.

This realisation has not stopped me from leaving Agricola with an overwhelming feeling of positivity and warmth. Even though I don't want to be a teacher, or perhaps because of that, it was really fun pretending to be one this year. Anyway, I've made a list of my general favourite things about working at Agricola, and here it is:

1. First on my list has to be the feeling of celebrity as you walk through the corridors and everyone says hello to you. At the beginning it was a shy smile or a cautious 'hallo', and by the end it was a scream of 'ELEANOR' and a full-body wave. And that was just the staff... Part 2 of this is:
2. Kids being excited when I came into the classroom - 'Die Eleanor ist wieder da!!' *waves*
3. Making the kids laugh and feeling like an actual professional comedian. And linked to this:
4. Saying something sarcastic/witty that makes the dickheads in the back respect you because they know you can tear them down with a single sentence. (I tried not to do this too often - this cruel sense of humour is a curse, and must be hidden away where it can't hurt anyone anymore.)
5. Teaching well. When a lesson goes the way you wanted it to and you feel as though you really got through to the pupils there is a sense of accomplishment unlike any other that I've achieved so far.
6. Having a personal connection with students that you really get along well with. There were several who always had a supportive smile whenever I caught their eye in class, would put their hand up to answer every question, and with whom I would share an eye-roll when once again no one else would know the answer/give a shit.
7. Being called Sie by students. It conveys a sensation of dignity and respect like no other.
8. Having no academic work to do. Preparing lessons is easy in that you can only spend a finite amount of time on it, and then it's over. If you fuck up the lesson, it's still over. You don't get to go back and try again - just MOVE ON. No second or third drafts, and no proofreading for the millionth time. Just hand in the first draft and move on to a new topic.
9. Starting at 8am and finishing by 3.30 at the very latest. On every day apart from one Monday every two weeks, I finished by 1.30. So much free time! I much prefer starting earlier in the day and finishing earlier, so this was ideal for me. Of course I complained about the 8 o'clock starts, as I knew that for everyone in England this was a Big Deal, especially for students. But secretly I loved it.
10. And finally, being validated by teachers and students. Being thanked at the end of lessons, or pupils coming up and asking questions after the lesson is over, or being told 'you did a good job today' or 'you're doing really well' by the real life teacher in charge was just lovely. I know, self-esteem has to come from within and everything, but being complimented on things you know you've done well is incredibly gratifying.

To finish, here are a few more specific memories that made me laugh or that I particularly enjoyed.

• Christian coming to check on how the other half of the Year 8 class was getting on and opening the door quite slowly, and the entire class starting to gasp quietly and then more and more loudly, finishing in a dramatic scream as he put his head round the door.
• Phileas and his high jinks naming the Gobi Desert as the place he wanted to live. I may hate you, Phileas, and I may never want to see you again, but oh boy, as your arch-nemesis I respect you.
• Almost being beaten up by Year 5 when I accidentally gave a point to the wrong team on Pictionary.
• When Year 6 came back from their school trip to the youth hostel, which involved climbing, orienteering, and general rolling round in mud for three days, and Anke pointed out the next day how sparklingly clean and freshly-washed they were all looking; every one of them had been thrown into the bath by their parents as soon as they got back, which meant rows of shining morning faces. This was unspeakably adorable for some reason.
• The kids saying 'ach so' after I had explained something to them, while very obviously not having understood. Then waiting for them to write the answer I just told them, while they waited for me to go away so they could quietly continue to not understand anything in peace.
• Seeing Anke first thing in the morning one day: "Good morning, Eleanor! You're very good-looking!" (I am never explaining the difference between 'you're good-looking' and 'you look good'.)
• Seeing Andrea on that same day and her exclaiming, "Hello my dear friend!" while holding my right hand in her left hand, i.e. just holding hands. Not shaking hands. Holding.
• Ronny finding out that the headteacher was not in school that day: "Ist der Chef da? Ich bin so glücklich! Partyyy!!! Kennst du Patrick Star? Party 'til we're purple!!! I love Spongebob"
• The headteacher pronouncing 'vague' as 'warg' in every single lesson
• The headteacher adding the following sentence to my reference, having obviously decided that the text was too clear and grammatically correct without it: "Being asked to cooperate in processes of literacy analysis and congenital interpretations she always reliably persisted on the guideline discussed and moreover suggested the students to have own interpretations and even ideas worthy to be discusses beyond the tutorial procedure." I don't even know where to begin with the laughter. Actually I do. Congenital.

You may be sensing a spot of resentment here, but allow me to explain that I'm allowed to be mean about the head (a bit at least, okay?). He's irrational, unreasonable, and very difficult to work with (he has driven away several secretaries, to the extent that for the last few months there hasn't been a secretary because there were no more available from the agency because they literally ran out, I like to think mainly because of him). Also he gave me a C for Kreativität/Entwicklung eigener Unterrichtsideen in the feedback sheet I was given as a lovely surprise - who knew I was going to be given grades on my reliability (B), cooperation with other teachers (B??? How dare you) and ability to speak English (A, thank god), amongst other things? The only one I'm really annoyed about is the first C grade I mentioned - the reason I did not show any 'creativity or development of my own teaching ideas' is that in HIS LESSONS I was not asked to do ANYTHING at ANY POINT. Apart from once at the beginning of the year when he asked me to write a teaching plan of Much Ado About Nothing, which I provided in the very short notice he gave me, and which he then never mentioned again. My point is that I took several full ninety-minute lessons, several more hour-long lessons, and took at least one or usually several half-hour lessons every single week, all with my own creative ideas. The fact that he didn't experience the lessons and did not ask any of the other teachers to help him evaluate me is not my problem. Apart from IT IS because it's my feedback sheet!!! 

The good news is, I never have to show the feedback sheet to anyone, I can ritually burn it if I want to, which I slightly do, and also he wrote the word congenital on my reference.

I might come back to this post and add things as I remember them (and hopefully some pictures too, if I can find them), but for now it's goodbye to Agricola, and thank you for being so welcoming, unfriendly, stressful, kind, unhelpful, hilarious, heart-warming, and fulfilling this year.