From the Outside

I remember learning how to make shelters in Pathfinders. Our leaders took us into the forest on some conservation grounds outside of town. We were given small hatchets and a fanny pack of supplies - water-resistant matches, iodine tablets (in case we desperately needed drinking water outside of our recently-filled ones we would be bringing with us), rope, granola bars, an emergency blanket and a tarp which had been machine-folded into a really tiny volatile square that, if you weren't careful, could probably take your eye out when you opened it. First, the leaders showed us how to find dead wood and create a basic lean-to. Then they showed us how to make the lean-to weather-resistant with the tarp. While they showed us how to create these shelters, they also invited us to come up and see what knots they were using, even allowing us the chance to try it out, gently critiquing us if we instead created a knot which would make our shelter completely useless. After they built their own shelters, we went over the steps together. They ensured that we knew what we were doing, and then they sent us into the woods in pairs to build our own. Provided that the shelters we created passed a few survival checks, we would be able to sleep in them that night, should we choose to do so. We'd get a badge in the morning if we succeeded.

This memory also serves as an interesting analogy about my experiences in Teacher's College, particularly practicum.

My curriculum instructors are, in essence, (former) teachers who are reminiscent of old Pathfinder leaders in charge of a group of future leaders. Ultimately, we should have received the same level of instruction entering practicum as when I learned how to build lean-tos. Demonstration. Modeling. Guided practice. Check for understanding. Verification of comprehension. Goal achieved.

Unfortunately, entering this practicum, I felt as though my French curriculum instructor had simply given me the hatchet and the fanny pack and didn't quite bother to teach me how to create a shelter for the night. And then she came back the next morning and wondered why I hadn't created a shelter which was to her liking.

Long analogy aside, let me dive into my recap.

My practicum is still an amazing and wonderful experience. However, my French curriculum instructor came to visit me last Tuesday, and that experience was not quite as magical as it could have been.

"You know you're using ______________ method, right?" *sarcastic laugh*

"Why are you speaking so much English to them? You should be speaking all French."

"The textbook doesn't teach French in this way, why are you not using the textbook?"

"If you aren't speaking French to them, they aren't learning."

And that is a sampling of the "pastoral visit" I received from my curriculum instructor. She came in, observed my ESL/FSL classroom, didn't bother to speak to my AT to find out why I would be speaking any English at all, and then rudely commented on what was, invariably, a combination of my AT's style of teaching and mine.

Nevermind the fact that I read a story to my class in French, and that I sought for listening comprehension via questions in French. And that I used grand gestures with my arms to point to parts of the giant pictures I had created the night before for that specific class. And that the major reason I spoke any English at all was for administrative affairs and to make sure that the extremely low-level ESL students knew what the hell was going on, and even that communication was less in English than in my use of an English-Hungarian dictionary for key words.

And then she wondered why her reaction to my lesson was not well-received.

In fact, she stressed me out so badly that I sat in front of her and cried while she began to profusely apologize for antagonizing me the way she did.

It was not constructive. It was mean. It lacked an understanding of the class as I received in my week of teaching in that classroom. It was exemplary of the fact that I felt as though I received very little instruction from her prior to entering this particular practicum. She couldn't be assed to build a shelter in front of me so I could see how it is done, and then she kicked over the one I built myself.

I know that I shouldn't worry about it, or about her, because when I get out into the world of teaching, I will develop my own style anyway. But I felt a distinct urge to point out just how incredibly off and unwelcome her presence was in my class, and how off-putting her comments were to me after her "observation".

To top it all off, my grandfather is on his last legs, and may possibly not make it through March Break.

And that's really all I have to say for now.