Hoping to submit tonight. Please help!
Posted: Thu Nov 15, 2012 2:02 am
I met Mary in late September in Nevada, in a portable without air conditioning, raised on concrete stilts above cracked and steaming asphalt. Mary was 6 years old and joined my first grade class a month into the school year. I shook her hand, and called her “ma’am,” and, as with all of my other late additions, used her arrival as a chance to practice our classroom routines. Before this, though, and guiltily, I breathed a sigh of relief. Mary was white.
Of the 27 students in my class, more than 85% were not fluent in English. I had a number of bilingual scholars, and I used them as learning buddies, pairing stronger English speakers with others who didn’t know cardinal numbers or pronouns. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough bilingualism to go around, and due to Clark County’s “immersion only” policy I was unable to speak Spanish during instructional time. I could, and did, join my scholars at lunch, and used carrots and grapes to teach colors and numbers. But in that wood paneled portable I was at the mercy of 6 year old translators, who were understandably poor at estimating their own skills in both Spanish and English. Mary was partnered with Joshua, who had moved to Las Vegas from the Northeast, and didn’t speak Spanish at all.
We moved on to our scheduled math lesson, in which I modeled the relationship between addition and subtraction. A clump of 10 transparent Duplo blocks sat on the projector screen, and Mr. xxxxxx sat head down at his desk. Students took turns taking some of the blocks away, and through “speaking” with those blocks left behind, I announced how many had been subtracted. Some of my pupils were astounded. Other caught on quickly, and correctly shouted the number with me, and I made note of who they were. Once again, I was relieved. Mary was among the first to catch on.
Most of my students had little number sense or phonological awareness, and although I believed firmly that they would learn these skills, my job was made easier the lower that percentage was. We broke into small groups, with the students playing the game together, and I made sure that one of the scholars who had displayed mastery was in every group.
The bell rang while we were going over the results, and I made a note to revisit our experiment after lunch, to ensure that every student understood what was happening. The students lined up, with Joshua helping Mary, and I excused them to recess and lunch. I waited behind to clean up the blocks, and type my notes. Five minutes later, I walked to the lunch room to eat with the kids. On my way I found Mary, again.
She was sitting cross legged, red-eyed, but not crying, beneath a metal ramp affixed to a portable. I bent down and asked her what happened, was she ok, where was Joshua, and she looked up at me and started to cry. I convinced her to leave the shade and walk with me, and while talking with her I realized that the extent of her English was her name, the numbers one through ten, and little else.
My own biases had prevented me from recognizing the signs of an English language learner. As a Teach for America corps member, I expected better from myself. After lunch, I instructed Sole and Edmund to bring Mary into their group, capitalizing on Sole’s bilingual skills. I had made a large mistake, and it would be far from my last as a teacher. My time as a teacher was full of failures and conditional successes, emotional rigor and long hours. Along with it I learned that even if I’m not perfect, or omnipotent, I’m able to adapt and adjust. These skills will help me succeed as a Buffalo, and, later, as a lawyer. As I taught my students, we learn when we’re courageous enough to try new things. My interest in the legal field rests in the liminal space between environmental, patent, public interest and international law. I’m eager to expand upon and supplement this with all that xxxxx has to offer.
Of the 27 students in my class, more than 85% were not fluent in English. I had a number of bilingual scholars, and I used them as learning buddies, pairing stronger English speakers with others who didn’t know cardinal numbers or pronouns. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough bilingualism to go around, and due to Clark County’s “immersion only” policy I was unable to speak Spanish during instructional time. I could, and did, join my scholars at lunch, and used carrots and grapes to teach colors and numbers. But in that wood paneled portable I was at the mercy of 6 year old translators, who were understandably poor at estimating their own skills in both Spanish and English. Mary was partnered with Joshua, who had moved to Las Vegas from the Northeast, and didn’t speak Spanish at all.
We moved on to our scheduled math lesson, in which I modeled the relationship between addition and subtraction. A clump of 10 transparent Duplo blocks sat on the projector screen, and Mr. xxxxxx sat head down at his desk. Students took turns taking some of the blocks away, and through “speaking” with those blocks left behind, I announced how many had been subtracted. Some of my pupils were astounded. Other caught on quickly, and correctly shouted the number with me, and I made note of who they were. Once again, I was relieved. Mary was among the first to catch on.
Most of my students had little number sense or phonological awareness, and although I believed firmly that they would learn these skills, my job was made easier the lower that percentage was. We broke into small groups, with the students playing the game together, and I made sure that one of the scholars who had displayed mastery was in every group.
The bell rang while we were going over the results, and I made a note to revisit our experiment after lunch, to ensure that every student understood what was happening. The students lined up, with Joshua helping Mary, and I excused them to recess and lunch. I waited behind to clean up the blocks, and type my notes. Five minutes later, I walked to the lunch room to eat with the kids. On my way I found Mary, again.
She was sitting cross legged, red-eyed, but not crying, beneath a metal ramp affixed to a portable. I bent down and asked her what happened, was she ok, where was Joshua, and she looked up at me and started to cry. I convinced her to leave the shade and walk with me, and while talking with her I realized that the extent of her English was her name, the numbers one through ten, and little else.
My own biases had prevented me from recognizing the signs of an English language learner. As a Teach for America corps member, I expected better from myself. After lunch, I instructed Sole and Edmund to bring Mary into their group, capitalizing on Sole’s bilingual skills. I had made a large mistake, and it would be far from my last as a teacher. My time as a teacher was full of failures and conditional successes, emotional rigor and long hours. Along with it I learned that even if I’m not perfect, or omnipotent, I’m able to adapt and adjust. These skills will help me succeed as a Buffalo, and, later, as a lawyer. As I taught my students, we learn when we’re courageous enough to try new things. My interest in the legal field rests in the liminal space between environmental, patent, public interest and international law. I’m eager to expand upon and supplement this with all that xxxxx has to offer.
