I Was but the Learner, Now *I* Am the Master

I cannot express enough gratitude to one of my professors, who gave me this bit of advice regarding teaching just the day before my departure for Bulgaria:

“Here’s what I tell all new teachers: You’re going to screw up.”

The Watch, as requested.

Or, something like that. Perhaps, after working with me for years, she caught a glimpse of my inner perfectionist and tailored some advice to my needs, disguised by an appeal to a general audience of new teachers, or perhaps this really is what she tells every new teacher. In either case, a sentence as simple as this has proven invaluable. I find myself more aware of the thoughts that bubble up which criticize me for every little thing missed or botched during work hours; now, I’m getting better at acknowledging them without taking them as gospel or any sort of penetrating evaluation of myself.

By no means does this prevent me from experiencing anxiety about my classes, of course, especially in the mornings upon waking. Because of this, combined with the dropping temperature, I admittedly stay wrapped up in a small cocoon of blankets far longer than perhaps I should. This morning was one of those very mornings, due to some severe doubts about a lesson plan I had concocted the previous night (with the help of some digital materials left by Fulbrighters past) on an infamous yet quintessential element of American television: infomercials.

I am not sure if my doubt was well-placed or not. On the one hand, there were a few problem classes two weeks ago, which, it turned out, were almost as anxious about me as I was about them; I was later told by a colleague that they had trouble understanding me, not meaning that I was slurring my speech or any such similar problem, but rather that the requisite vocabulary for that day’s topic–we were, essentially, discussing dialects of English, how they relate to social standing, and who controls “correct” speech–was simply too advanced for them at the time. I am now sure to beware of overestimating their language capabilities, which I still find quite surprising given they are in early high school.

On the other hand, careful to lead class according to the students’ abilities, I had conducted some very successful class sessions on the trolley problem, which certainly caused some deal of eye-rolling. By and large, though, students were at least listening to our discussion, if not actively engaging in it. Several even spent precious minutes between classes to discuss a bit more with me. Most of this was done in English, making me feel at least somewhat confident that I was in fact doing my job.

Into my leather messenger bag I stuffed my laptop–absolutely necessary for the infomercial lesson–and looked at my watch. 8:08 AM. I had spent too much time in my warm bed and even warmer shower, now leaving only twelve minutes to make it to class. During my power-walk to school, I sort of resolved myself to whatever outcome my infomercial lesson would have; sometimes, “you’re going to screw up,” and that, I think, is no satisfactory reason not to try.

I’m sure I have many more blunders ahead of me in the coming year. Today’s lessons, however, were not those blunders. I opened the lesson by stating, “Today, we will have our most important and most serious lesson on American culture of the whole year.” Their faces grew serious. Writing the word “infomercials” on the board, I said, “I’m totally joking, of course. Does anyone know what an infomercial is?” Students, somewhat confused, eyed each other. “Is it a commercial that informs?” “In theory, yes,” I replied, “but they often end up being more entertaining than informative. We’re going to watch some of these, and then you’ll make your own infomercials.” So then I showed them the masterpieces of modern civilization that are the EZ Cracker and Snuggie. Engaging the students so quickly with a task and interesting material–they found those videos to be very funny–proved effective, as they attentively listened to and made observations about the various principles of these advertisements, like starting out with a problem, introducing a perfect solution in the form of a product, and trying to rush or entice viewers to buy right away.

This discussion was brief, of course, since we had to get to the real task originally promised. I allowed the students to choose their own groups, which proved to be effective here, since each little clique had its own inside jokes or unique understandings that helped them to come up with a silly first-world problem and then market an equally silly product. I gave them the option to either write scripts or act out their infomercials; surprisingly, most were enthusiastic about acting them out, and some even did both assignments. Some ideas included:

The Nike umbrellas for shoes. “Just Do It!”

-A special cologne to attract a girlfriend to one of the group members, Miro. They even poked a small hole in the top of a water bottle to simulate spraying on too much cologne, and enlisted a girl from the class to begin flirting with Miro once the cologne had been liberally applied. The price for this cologne: “only” $200, for a limited time only.
-A utility watch that included all of a woman’s basic beauty and practical necessities, including lipstick, a hair brush, car keys, and others. The initial set-up for the product included a beautiful performance by a girl who acted as if she forgot to brush her hair, put on lipstick, and bring her car keys with her simultaneously.
-Last, but certainly not least, miniature Nike umbrellas to wear over your expensive Nike shoes to prevent them from getting wet in the rain.

Just about everyone, including myself, was keeling over with laughter. As certain groups performed, others, who originally intended to write scripts only, became enthusiastic, even demanding, about themselves performing. Class time was not something we had much of, but we did possess in abundance both fun and opportunities to practice English in a meaningful way.

I certainly make the occasional screw-up, but having the occasional success sure does help. After all, “You’re going to screw up” does not mean “You’re going to fail.” Quite the opposite, in fact; I have to take risks, risks like my infomercial lesson, like trekking across the whole country, like even coming to Bulgaria in the first place.

For me, sometimes rolling out of bed, stepping out of the shower, going and taking that risk is itself a success. But it sure is nice to have one as a follow-up too.

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For those of you who miss the reference made by the title: