Self-Medicating

(Do you ever use these new terms that you know are gaining social currency without being sure of exactly what they mean? I do. I'm too lazy even to Google them to ascertain their exact definition. That's what's going on right now with my use of the term 'self-medicating,' but I'm pretty sure it means exactly what it sounds like.)

The past few days, Danny and I have been teaching class together. One of us serves as the head teacher, and the other mostly sits in the back and watches (if the helper is Danny), or studies Chinese (if the helper is I). When the students are given time to practice their dialogues, the helper walks around to monitor their progress, but in general does very little in the classroom. Accordingly, Danny and I decided that both of us do not actually need to attend classes together. Today he had an appointment with some government officials, so I was flying solo during the morning periods.

The students of one class in particular were a little out of control. I should have suspected trouble when they failed to rise and reply to my "good morning, class," with the traditional "good morning, Teacher." Usually, once I begin class with a salutation, (or simply "let's begin), the students all automatically stand up and greet me; they remain standing until I give permission for them to be seated. When one has grown accustomed to this routine at the beginning of every period, it's almost unsettling to watch them reply "hello" while still seated. It occurred to me that I should have demanded them to rise from their seats, but that seemed a little too ego-driven, so I let it slide.

The trouble continued during our lesson on "similarities and differences." During lesson planning for this week, Danny suggested that we bring pairs of students up to the front, and ask the rest of the class to name ways in which their two classmates were alike and dissimilar. When I called up the second pair (a boy and a girl), the rest of the class spontaneously began yelling "kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" It seemed funny and innocent enough at first (and I like it when students seem to be enjoying class—plus they shouting in English, so I had to give them credit for practicing simple commands).

After a while, however, this enthusiasm seemed disruptive (and demanding others to kiss really didn't seem like a practical oral English skill), so I tried to restore order and silence them with the time-honored technique of raising my index finger to my puckered lips and pushing air through my teeth. The students all squinted their eyes, and shushed me back (staring right at me!) Danny suggested that they were just confused, and thought we were doing a '"repeat after me" exercise, but I'm pretty sure they understood what they were doing. Their meaning was "shut the ₣^&% up."

When Danny returned at lunch time to the apartment, he found me watching Friends. I told him this was my cheap version of therapy. Self-prescribed. Self-administered. Self-medicated.

Lesson learned: Students need to stand when addressing a teacher! Sitting to greet the instructor is the first step on a slippery slope towards stoning intellectuals, scholars, and artists, or rounding them up, and corralling them into labor camps and communes. From here, it's only a stone's throw to complete dissolution of the social fabric.

Next time, my students will stand to greet me.