April Fools' Day

It’s April Fools come early here in Colombia.  I just couldn’t resist…

Good morning class.  

Good moooooooorniiiiiiiiiing

How is everyone today?

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Ok, I need you to please clear off your desks, face front, and separate yourself from your neighbor.  (Initial looks of terror; they know what that means.)  Quickly, we haven’t got all day.  Now don’t worry, this is just a little pop quiz to check how well you’ve been paying attention in class the last few weeks.

Does it count for a grade?????  (slighty frantic)

Yes.  (All eyes immediately shoot to the real professor as if to ask, Are you really letting her do this to us?  The teacher nods in approval).

Please do not flip over your paper until everyone has one.  Everyone ready?  Okay, now turn over your paper, read the directions carefully, and begin.

The directions on the test read:  Read over all the questions and then begin.  You have 10 minutes to complete this quiz.  The last question on the test reads: Flip over your paper.  Do not take the quiz.  It is a joke.  Happy April Fools’ Day.

Pencils scratch feverishly.  The first question is easy.  The second one as well.  The third question not so much.  Students start looking up at me like, I thought you were nice!  And others, I really hate you right now!  Students look back and forth between each other for confirmation of the difficulty and unfairness of the quiz.  Number four is even harder.  Some look ready to cry.  Others giggle in discomfort.   Write a brief paragraph about the current conflict in Libya.  Include 4 phrasal verbs that we studied last week.  OUR ASSISTANT IS THE DEVIL!!!!!!!!

Students start coming to my desk with questions of desperation.  Wait, I have a question.  When did we talk about Libya?  Does it matter what tense the phrasal verbs are in?  I don’t understand number 3.  I don’t think we discussed number 4.  How do you spell Gaddafi? 

Just do your best.  You only have a few more minutes.

I let them struggle for 10 minutes.  It's a long ten minutes.  Pencils down please.  Immediate outbreak of Spanish speaking.  

So how do you think you did? 

Bety bety bad.  (Spanish pronunciation)  They are straight up mad at this point.  Why?  What happened?  No answer.  Common, what was hard about it?  Overflow response: not enough time, crazy questions, we didn’t study that, bla bla bla!

Ok, Diana, would you please read the instructions aloud?  Ok, Santiago, would you please read the last question aloud?

Small screams, sighs of relief, outbreak of Spanish speaking.  Most importantly, smiles, big smiles.  Relief.  I then capture the moment to explain to them what April Fools’ Day is and how we “celebrate” in the U.S.  The next few moments are spent laughing and showing each other what they wrote out of desperation on the quiz.  Everyone fell for it.  I played this same trick on four classes today, and the dialogue above was the same in all four.  Each quiz was tailored to the recent subject matter of that particular class.  Except for the Gaddafi question; that was universal.  Had to make it believable.

I love April Fools’ Day.  The best part is, I get to do this again to all the fresh blood in my classes tomorrow.  I don’t think they’ll forget what April Fools’ Day is.  At least not any time soon.

Homeward Bound

The next chapter of my life will take place back in Chicago, Illinois!

What a weekend!  I flew home and spent three days without even leaving the confines of 912 Lake Street.  I fell in love with my nephew, Will, and had a great time catching up with family and friends.  He liked me!  Some said I even had maternal instincts….not sure I’d go that far, but I didn’t drop him and he seemed pretty calm in my arms.  Then I flew to Washington, D.C. for a final round interview.

Received the job offer yesterday, about 99% sure I’ll accept! 

Having a Fulbright Scholarship is the best; the only bad thing is it has a very fixed end date, so I’m really excited for this new opportunity and it’s a relief to have something nailed down.  That being said, it would be hard for me to just pick up my things and leave Colombia as of today, and I think it will be even harder three months from now.  I feel a mixture of excitement and sadness.   Trying not to think about it just yet.

That’s all for now; thanks to everyone for believing in me. 

Anyone looking for a roommate in Chicago?

For your viewing entertainment...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qjs-u0VXjxQ

Help

The Beatles put it nicely:

Help! I need somebody,
Help! Not just anybody,
Help! You know I need someone, heeeeeelp.

Simple, to the point.  Easy right? 

In the past month or so I have read two books about help.  One is literally entitled The Help, and tells the story of a young, homely woman who helps black women living in Mississippi, working as hired help for white families in the 1960s, to tell their stories of love and pain.  These black women also help her to find herself and make her dreams of becoming a writer come true.  The title is ambiguous in that it remains unclear which help the author is referring to, either way, help is rendered. 

The second book is called I Know This Much is True and tells the story of twin brothers, one of which is a paranoid schizophrenic who amputates his own hand in a public library to stop the war.  Both need help, equally, it just takes the “normal” brother much longer to let go and accept it.  He’s supposed to be the strong one.

I’ve had this idea of help on my mind a lot lately; I’ve noticed a striking number of inconsistencies.

My English tutoring hours have really filled up this semester compared to last.  Encouraging, except that about 80% of the students who repeatedly visit me are my most advanced students.  Those who most desperately need help don’t ask for it, won’t ask for it.   

I have more students willing to cheat than to ask for help (this is NOT a Colombian phenomenon).

I was offered a raincoat a few days back because I came to work in a fleece North Face and it started to pour just as I had to walk 8 blocks to a bus stop.  I said “no gracias.”  Having trouble admitting that you might not be invincible against the elements Annie?

Why is it so hard, asking for help.  It’s not hard, we just make it so.  Survival of the fittest right?  Don’t we want to survive?  I think there’s some implicit assumption that by asking for help we admit defeat, weakness, inferiority.  That’s not even kind of true, at least I don’t think so.  Just because someone helps you doesn’t mean they carry you, doesn’t mean you can’t, doesn’t make you any less an individual.  Help is helpful, period.  And a little psychology tid-bit, if someone helps you it subconsciously makes that person like you more (to an extent of course).

So how do I convince my students (and professors) that they need my help without crushing their egos, driving them even further away?  Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Now I need your help.