A Student of First Things
"It is a good thing that there are people whose moral beauty attracts us." — Linda Trinkaus Zagzebski Exemplarist Moral Theory
Last week, I began the part of my job that includes teaching English to professional English teachers. I like to think that this would be at least a little bit intimidating to anyone. Luckily, I've come across a lot of online resources to assist me in my lesson planning. One of these was a first activity in my C1 class (a course designed to help teachers at the B2 level attain the most perfect level of non-native fluency). This is an activity called "I don't know the first thing about..." The objective is to list three things that you know nothing about, divide into groups, and find someone in your group to help you learn about each of those things. I didn't participate, but I wish that I could have.
In my case, I have a relatively long list of things that I don't know the first thing about. Some of them also happen to be closely related to the work that I'm doing. If I had participated as the teacher of the class in that activity, my list might have read: pedagogy, classroom management, lesson planning, lecturing, and, well, teaching. Every one of my students would have been able to help me out with those. And that's why, even though I think doing what I'm doing may be intimidating to anyone, it is extra intimidating to me.
Turning away from my (imagined) list for a moment, I'll share some of the teachers' answers to the "first thing" question. What I hoped would be a fun, thought-provoking icebreaker was a profound teaching moment for me. Of course, some teachers' answers were what I'd expected—"the inner working of cellphones," "chemical reactions," "how to play piano"—but their discussions also spanned topics such as "the Hindu religion," and "life after death." As we wrapped up, a group motioned me over to their table. "Teacher, we realized that none of us know about China, Japan, or how to travel around Asia. We all decided that we have a lot to learn, and we know where to start. We are thinking that we will share our research on these topics this year."
It was only when I saw these teachers enjoying themselves, challenging themselves, and collaborating to increase their knowledge of the English language (or whatever other topic presented itself), that I realized what I had been afraid of.
When I was worrying and stress dreaming about the start of these classes, I anticipated to walk into a room of students putting off a "prove it to me" vibe. I expected to have to show off some magical teaching skill (some people have that, right?) in order to gain their attention and cooperation. While I won't pretend that the very start of each class has been warm and fuzzy, I have been astounded to see how receptive my teachers are by the end of our lesson. I am very okay with admitting that I judged these teachers before I even met them. It's a little more painful to admit that it was because I expected them to behave as I would in their situation.
While there are some means-to-end benefits for them to take these classes, these professionals want to improve because they have been given the opportunity to do so. They want to improve to help their students. They want to improve to foster a skill set that they've already worked pretty darn hard to develop. When given the option to maintain their current skill set or to work even harder than they already have to improve, they have chosen the latter.
When these teachers answered the first question of the semester, "Why are you here?," (a question designed by their Aristotle-loving teacher to get at the that-for-the-sake-of-which of this course), their answers, unsurprisingly, were centered around the goal of improving their English skills. Even though none of them said it directly, their answer could have been something like "because I want to put in the necessary work so that I can master a skill that I have already developed enough to build a profession with." For most of the teachers in my classes (and all of the teachers in C1 and Academic Writing), these courses aren't necessary for them to keep their jobs, they won't end up on some transcript, they aren't getting hours off of work to be there. They have just chosen to be there.
Even if she has to drive one and a half hours to get to class. Even if he has to unlearn decades of ingrained mispronunciation to improve. Even if she has to find a sitter for the kids. Even if he has to add homework assignments to his workload during review week. Even if they come to learn from an untrained, twenty two year old instructor.
I think I hit the jackpot, without even realizing I was going to have a chance to play, by ending up as the teacher to dozens of students who are all hungry to learn. This is not just because I have a room full of the type of students who make it super easy to do this teaching job (I imagine, at least. Did I mention that I'm new to this?). More importantly, it's because I have a new group to learn a heck of a lot from, in addition to my six hundred five year olds.
My teachers' dedication, motivation, enthusiasm, and humility are magnetic qualities. The humility bit especially so, and especially for me. It's not that I don't believe that you can learn in unexpected ways, or from people who may surprise you, or that you are suddenly too good at your job to improve in it. It is just delightful, awe-inspiring, and challenging to see it alive, and to be the beneficiary of that eager-to-learn spirit in my brand new job. I think that it will be a very good thing to learn from these teachers whose greatness in these respects has brought us all into the same classroom.
The"moral beauty" Zagzebski talks about manifests itself in all sorts of ways, and in any number of places. I've always been skeptical of teachers who aren't open to learning from their students, but I hadn't expected to be invited to learn the lessons that I have from the teachers in my classroom.
I knew from the beginning that I don't know the first thing about teaching. Watching these teachers sacrifice of themselves in order to learn (even from me), has shown me that I have a lot more to learn about what it means to be a devoted, lifelong learner. If you had asked, I would have said that I knew more than the first thing about this project. It happens to be a favorite of mine.
All of the teachers in my classroom have shared their aspirations for the course with me. After having the chance to learn from their example for one week, I think I discovered mine.
