Inflection Point (Graphically Speaking)

October 22, 2008

Today marks a turning point, I think, in my teaching experience here. For the first time since I started, I have begun to think of my little kids as actual human beings. For the first time ever since September, I found myself relaxed enough and on top of things enough to sit back and observe my kindergarteners interacting- not with me, but with each other. I watched as little pigtailed, cartoony-looking, cartoony-voiced Shene told some little anecdote in Kurdish to the other 4 kids at her table. I watched, amused, as troublemaker Jotiyar took a chip from his neighbor without asking, before intervening in order to teach him to ask before taking. I watched as pumpkinheaded Abdulrahman showed off his spiderman socks to his neighbor, while they sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall, waiting for the bell to ring, signaling the end of the school day. 

My 2nd-graders are no less adorable, and much more fun to work with because I get to teach them much more complex concepts than abc's and counting, and more importantly, they are so amazingly enthusiastic about math class, it's both gratifying and so hard to believe. When I tell them they've got math twice in one day, they actually cheer. It's really an American educator's dream come true to hear kids cheering and yelling “I love math!” without the least drop of sarcasm. These kids are really something, and here in Kurdistan, teachers are loved unabashedly by the students. Boys, girls, it does not matter, they come up and throw themselves at you for hugs and kisses, and stick stickers all over you, and give you candy and pictures they drew, and the girls fill their notebooks with “For Miss Angie” messages adorned all over with hearts. It's really really unreal, and I wish to god that teachers were considered and treated with half as much love and respect in America. The job is so much more enjoyable when your students treat you like a rock star.

They are so enthusiastic in class that I've had to train them to tone it down a bit. Whenever I  would ask a question, they'd practically explode, wanting to be the one to give the answer, bouncing in their seat and waving their hand frantically in a very Hermione-ish matter. “Calm down, you guys sound like a bunch of puppies!” I said one day. Now I only have to say “What did I say about no puppies?” and they remember to stop bouncing and whining. Kids, I've learned, are very malleable- like puppies actually. Unlike old dogs, you can teach them new tricks very easily, as long as you spell it out for them and repeat it over and over again for a couple weeks. Tell them exactly what you want from them, and they will listen. 

This job is not easy, but one major upside to it is that I never find myself drowsing on the job. It may be hard to get up every morning, but once I am up and in the classroom, there is no room for lethargy. Of course, there is plenty of room for fatigue- the feeling of being spent of energy- but I have never once felt sluggish or sleepy because the job of standing in front of a classroom engaging young kids into learning is such an active one. This is a huge difference from some of my previous jobs in which I would, for example, be sitting in front of a computer wondering if I was moving near the speed of light because time seemed to be moving so so slowly, counting the minutes until my lunchbreak, and drowning in meaningless, mindless, repetitive, purposeless drudgework.