I have great respect for the teaching profession, generally. I'm not wild about certain aspects of teaching -- unionization, Common Core -- but I believe that teachers are underpaid, woefully. I've taught, but only at the collegiate level, first as a graduate assistant and then as an adjunct professor at four universities. I could never teach young children and the thought of teaching at the high school level repulses me. Teachers at that level are as much disciplinarians as they are teachers, and sometimes more of the former than of the latter.
Be that as it may, there have been some memorable moments in my teaching history. I've determined that my method of teaching is outdated and outmoded, so I'm probably never going to teach again, which is bittersweet. I loved teaching Spanish and I was pretty good at it. I'm not a trained teacher by any means, having been thrown into it as a graduate assistant and learning from my mistakes ever after. But technology has taken over in large measure, and when it comes to technology, I'm a Luddite.
Moreover, the acquisition of foreign languages in this country is abysmal. We rely on foreigners or technology far too much, which puts us at a competitive disadvantage on several levels. The students' interest level is pathetic, thinking that studying a foreign language is a means to an end and not a goal itself. If I could have a class full of interested, motivated students, I'd consider teaching, but I fear that won't be possible.
Still, I look back fondly on my teaching career, such as it was. In grad school, a fellow TA -- teaching assistant, as we were known at that school -- decided to challenge one of my classes to a softball game, so we decided, in collegiate fashion, to make it a kegger. That is, we had kegs of beer at each base. I don't remember who won, I don't remember even playing much. I remember getting home at one in the morning and that attendance was nearly complete. That we did it in a city park where alcohol was prohibited made it even better.
One of my fellow TA's approached me about teaching a class on profanity. Not how to use it, but things to avoid saying. When I lived in Spain I'd inadvertently stuck my foot in my mouth several times, thinking I was saying something innocent but offending people nevertheless. I announced to my class that attendance at the next day's class was optional, that there would be no penalty for missing it, and that it would deal with profanity -- not how to use it but things to avoid. I had perfect attendance the next day. One middle-aged woman who was auditing the class -- and who was nearly old enough to be my mother -- shocked everyone by asking me how to say a specific string of epithets in Spanish. I reiterated that that wasn't the purpose of the class but got a good chuckle out of it.
While I lived in Spain I worked for a language academy that sent us out to students' homes or businesses for lessons. At one lesson, one of the students began nursing her newborn right in front of me. That was a first for me. At another stop, two Spanish bankers instructed me in the nuances of Spanish profanity. At a third class, a bunch of Spanish accountants informed me about the nuances of American politics and how naïve I was about our own system...despite the fact that not one of them had ever been to the United States.
Back in the States, I became an adjunct professor after law school. One of the first classes I taught was at night, on Mondays and Wednesdays. No night course in college should be taught on Monday nights because Monday Night Football is too much of a distraction. And a language class on Monday nights? Forget it.
Then I taught at two schools in my new state. At one of them, a student was having trouble identifying the subject of a sentence. I gave him the sentence I love you and asked him to pick out the subject. Love, he said. No, try again. You, he said eagerly. No, I said encouragingly. He sat there staring at me, dumbfounded, unable to make another choice.
Another student gave as an answer to an extra credit question, to which the answer was Your Highness, Your Hinest. This is higher education, folks. And the sad fact was that she was one of the better students in the class.
Perhaps the most challenging class I taught was one of the last. It was a Beginner's Spanish class with only eight students in it. The class was comprised of a foreign student from China for whom English was a second language, two foreign exchange students from Brazil, a vet for whom foreign languages were a struggle, two athletes with different work ethics, a high school student who was very good at Spanish but couldn't speak it and the last student who was simply taking the class as an elective. Trying to mesh the varying levels of language abilities was a struggle. The students were mostly very hardworking -- but for one of the athletes -- and the best in the class was the high school student. But getting the lessons across to that group was a struggle, especially with the foreign students. Still, it was probably easier to handle that group than a class of high school students.
I love teaching Spanish. I have a passion for it that comes across readily. And because I had to learn it from scratch, I understand what students go through. But I can't do it anymore. I'm glad I had the experiences I did, and I'm going to miss it, but it's not something I'll ever do again.
Probably.
(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
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