Today, I survived my first day as an English teacher in Kyrgyzstan. This isn't me. This is my friend, Esther. I don't have any pictures of myself teaching yet.
Like the rest of us, I worked with a counterpart on my first day, who was a local English teacher who spoke very little English; only Russian and Kyrgyz. Our classroom was filled with 6th graders and a few other volunteers, who were observing. There were not enough chairs in the room, so a few of the kids shared. This is normal here.
I was prepared with a lesson plan that emphasized speaking in English, not just reading and writing. I taught them how adjectives modify nouns, which was a review for them. The lesson went well; some things worked, some didn't, but I learned a lot. For instance, passing a ball made of duct tape to students, to get them to participate, is fun; but trying to expain how to play a game to kids who don't speak English, is hilarious.
I split the class into three teams by having them count off, which was confusing for some of them, but worked, and then told them to grab their notebooks and pens, and that the 1's will sit over here, 2's will sit in the middle, and 3's will sit over there.
They all stood up at once, but only half of them knew what to do. They tried to move to their new seats, to sit with their teams, but of course, they were all blocking each other. There's only so much space in a crowded classroom. So suddenly they were all standing, stuck, trying to move but completely in each other's way, and they were all speaking Russian.
I laughed at the chaos that was unfolding, then began herding them around the room. I looked over at my counterpart, who was sitting at her desk, yelling at the kids in Russian, pulling out her hair.
''Is this okay?'' I asked her, smiling, and she shot me a look of bewilderment and sympathy, as if saying that no, it was not okay, but nice try.
Her class had just come undone. Kids were sitting down, then standing up again, then moving around, strategically positioning themselves beside their friends. The teams I had created for them—that concept was lost. The room was erupting in a frenzy of unpredictable movement, laughter, and Russian chatter.
It couldn't last forever though. Soon, they were all sitting down, and order was restored. My counterpart took a deep breath. But I had already started the game, and I was determined to see it through. I picked one representative from each team, and called them to the front of the room. My plan was to have each team describe one teammate, using the adjectives we had gone over earlier, and the kids in front of the room would try to guess who their teammates were describing. Sounds good in theory, right?
Well, I started explaining the point of the game to these kids, who, of course, speak very, very, basic English, and it occurred to me that the game would not work if the kids in the front of the room could listen in on who their teammates were going to describe. The point was for them not to know, so they would have to guess.
So, I grabbed those three kids, two enthusiastic boys and one noticeably shy little girl, and escorted them out into the hall, where they wouldn't be able to hear the identity of the kids their teammates were going to describe. They were hesitant to go out into the hall, but I assured them it was okay.
So now I had three kids in the hall, who didn't know why they were out there, and a classroom full of kids who didn't know what was going on, either. I walked over to team 1, chose a kid, asked him his name, and instructed his teammates to write three sentences that described him.
My counterpart jumped in—''One sentence each,'' she said, trying to mitigate another meltdown. I decided it was a good call, and walked around the room, helping a few students construct one sentence about this kid. He was short, with brown hair, and was wearing a black suit with a white tie. A lot of boys wear suits to school here.
There was a knock on the door, and I let the kids back into the room. Three different students volunteered to read their sentences, and one of the kids who was in the hall, who spoke good English and could actually follow what was going on, explained to his buddy, in Russian, what they were supposed to do. The shy little girl lowered her gaze, looking shy and scared. I told him to expain what was going on to her, too.
To my amazement, just as the bell rang, the three kids in the front of the room guessed correctly who their classmates were describing! It was crazy, but it worked, and I think most of the kids had a good time in class that day. They placed their chairs upside-down on their desks, and thanked me on their way out of the room. What an experience. I have a lot to learn, but I'm happy to say that I felt completely comfortable in front of the class, I'm just going to have to learn from my mistakes.
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