Teacher knows best

I've now gone from one end of the English-teaching spectrum to the other. In Japan, I considered it a good day when my students were able to answer the question, "How are you?" This is not an exaggeration. And even that was usually only completed after ample supplication with stickers. My current students can express complex thoughts in English and require no further motivation than the knowledge that they have done a good job. The downside to this is that I have to be on my toes a lot more than I did before. The students throw questions at me that I have no idea how to answer, questions like "What are the rules for syllable emphasis in multi-syllable words?" You know, the kinds of things that are interesting and useful, but that almost no native English-speaker could answer off the top of her head. I am adept enough at fending off these questions with a quick "Ummm, let me check on that and get back to you next week," but I have significantly more problems with spelling. As I have mentioned before, I cannot spell. If my life depended on my ability to spell, I wouldn't last a day, nay, an hour. You can see then why I chose to become an English teacher and why I'm so good at it.

While my grasp of linguistic vagaries and spelling may be called into question, in a class of French students, I am the infallIble expert on one subject: American culture. Last week in class, we talked about the educational systems of France, England, and the US. The duty of talking about the American system naturally fell to me.

One of the last things I presented to the class was the American grading system. In France, marks are out of 20. There are no letter grades. I wrote the letters A-D and F on the board, and then gave the approximate percentage each represented. I then turned to the class and asked if there were any questions. A woman sitting in the front of the class perked up. I remembered her from the week before: she was one of the older students in the class, being in her 30s. She reminded me of some of the older students I had been in classes with in the US; she acted as though she had seen more and knew more than the other students there, which, to be fair, was probably true. The problem arose from the fact that she felt the need to prove herself by speaking often and questioning everything. The woman edged forward in her seat and raised her hand with confidence.

"You forgot the 'E'," she said--not "Is there an 'E'?" or "Should there be an 'E'?"

But I was just as ready to burst her bubble as she was mine. I let out a small chuckle and turned to the class.

"No, I didn't. There is no 'E'."

The reaction of the class to this statement would best be described as perplexed.

"But why not?" chimed in several students.

"There just isn't," I replied, and left it at that.