{"id":689,"date":"2009-02-28T05:01:08","date_gmt":"2009-02-27T21:01:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.stevepeer.net\/?p=740"},"modified":"2009-02-28T05:01:08","modified_gmt":"2009-02-27T21:01:08","slug":"teaching-my-first-english-class","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.stevepeer.com\/blog\/teaching-my-first-english-class\/","title":{"rendered":"Teaching English Overseas: My first class"},"content":{"rendered":"

note: February 28 is my fourth anniversary of teaching English in China. At 8:25 am GMT +8, Feb. 28, 2005, I first walked into a Chinese classroom…<\/em><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t sleep very well. I was still jet-lagged. Add to that I was in a new bed, in a new apartment, in a country I knew very little about. I went through my morning routine trying to come to grips with the strange shower configuration and attempting to shave in a nine-inch-square mirror. With bad instant coffee in my belly I waited for the knock on my door. It was February 28, 2005.<\/p>\n

This was to be my first day of work as an oral ESL teacher at private school in Shenzhen (China). There was no training or school tour, I arrived a week later than the other new teachers. I was about to be launched, successfully or otherwise, on unsuspecting Chinese students.<\/p>\n

\"Primary<\/a>
Primary school students in China.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I sat at my desk with a growing sense of dread. I thought about vomiting but in the end managed to hold that bodily function in check. Forty students to teach for 40 minutes? I must have been mad. I decided that introducing myself would be the best course of action. I made some quick notes in a little notebook that became my best friend over the coming months.<\/p>\n

I was late as I searched for grade 6, class 12 on the third and fourth floors of the north wing of building two. A teacher in the hall waved me in. After introductions she asked, \u201cWould you like me to stay in the class?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no,\u201d I replied like a seasoned pro, \u201cI\u2019ll be okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d she asked. It must have been the nervous perspiration on my brow that gave my otherwise faux-confident persona away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a deep breath and walked into the class. There was a podium on a raised platform and a blackboard. I set down my bag and looked at the class. Forty young, smiling Asian faces stared at me. They were silent.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning.?!\u201d I ventured.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, teacher,\u201d said the class in unison.<\/p>\n

Shiny young faces with bodies clad in identical blue and white track suits. I was in over my head. Pressing ahead, I found a piece of chalk and with a shaky hand scrawled my name on the clean blackboard.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Steve,\u201d I told them.<\/p>\n

\u201cSteve!\u201d they called back at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am from Canada,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cCanada,\u201d they replied en masse.<\/p>\n

I learned next that sending the Chinese-English teacher out of the room had been a bad idea. Not only could she add some semblance of order to the proceedings, she could also translate if I ran into problems. After some explanation I had the students stand one by one and say, \u201cMy name is\u2026, I am ____ years old.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow old am I?\u201d I asked them.<\/p>\n

I received a course of replies, most eight to 10 years younger than my actual age. I felt very young for a moment. A couple of jokers added their thoughts: My age was guessed by one student at 100 and by another at 1000.<\/p>\n

Next was the phrase, \u201cI like\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do I like?\u201d I asked the students. They were silent and stared at me. I looked around the room. No one moved a muscle, although every eye was fixated on me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI like,\u201d I said, \u201cBasketball.\u201d I did my best charades impression of basketball and wrote it on the board.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat else do I like?\u201d I tried. A hesitant hand went up.<\/p>\n

\u201cComputer?\u201d hesitantly asked a female student.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said enthusiastically. \u201cComputers.\u201d I stressed the S.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat else do I like?\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a couple of minutes to get the ball rolling, but in the end I had a din of voices shouting out all the sundry activities they new in English.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know what I like?\u201d I asked again, \u201cI like food.\u201d<\/p>\n

One boy in the front row said in a loud voice, \u201cThat is because you are fat.\u201d<\/p>\n

I tried not to laugh. He was right, of course. Again, they called out a list of foods that they thought I liked.<\/p>\n

To wrap things up I had them each stand again and say, \u201cI like\u2026,\u201d followed by a food, activity, etc.<\/p>\n

Then the bell, which was not a bell at all, but a little musical ditty, sounded. It was over, I had survived 40 minutes relatively unscathed.<\/p>\n

That class became my favourite. Of the 25 homerooms I visited each week, that class was the best and most receptive. The other varied from lukewarm to downright nasty. I didn\u2019t have many rules. I drew the line when my worst class started playing volleyball with a rolled-up raincoat.<\/p>\n

And so began a new life and career, in a nation that has only been really opened to outsiders for 25 year. There is a learning curve, but I think I have managed to make it over the first hurdle.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/object><\/p>\n

<\/object><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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