Bump

My father always loved speed bumps. Whenever we were driving, and we got to a bump in the road, he would speed up a little so we'd fly off the bump a bit, using it like a mini ramp. There was one particular bump in the road he liked, on a little road on the way back from church, that was a bit bigger than the others, and isolated, meaning we'd usually take it alone.

He'd fly a little higher off of that one. I used to love watching him enjoy such a seemingly trivial thing, and I used to love how he took a tiny thing like a speed bump and made it fun.

It felt like this. We felt awesome. My mom hated it, though.

That bump in the road would have metaphorical significance for the rest of my life.

I've written before about how finding your footing as an ALT is a gradual, difficult process. But there's a caveat to that, and to teaching, and to jobs in general, really. Even if you have your footing, there will still be pitfalls. Roads are still bumpy even when you know how to drive. Sure, you can manage the bumps now, but they still exist.

One of these ever-present bumps is teaching a lesson for the first time.

No matter how prepared you are, mentally, or how sound your lesson is, conceptually, it will always be awkward teaching it to that first class.

Winter vacation just ended, so I have students writing about their winter vacations. Last year I gave them a composition assignment that I created from scratch. I gave them a sample essay, pointed out simple things like where/why/when/how long, and let them go. I realized it wasn't structured enough for their level of English, and their essays were full of grammatical mistakes.

This wouldn't be nearly enough for my students. Not enough structure, not enough explanation. ESL requires a different mindset, as does teaching in Japan.

This year, I'm in full ALT mode. I know they need more help and structure. So I had them do an activity where they practice the structural building blocks of their essay before they write it.

Task 1: practice wh- words, where/what etc.

Task 2: practice auxiliary verbs, was/wasn't/did etc.

Task 3: practice superlative form, happiest/most boring/best etc.

Task 4: take a list of adjectives like lovely/horrible and categorize them as positive or negative.

Converse with a partner using what you just practiced. "What was your happiest moment?" "Where did you go?" "How did you get there?" Etc.

THEN write your essay. A short essay, only 120 words. Then we get together and share it as a class.

They get to practice grammar. They get to practice speaking. They get a nice list of adjectives to use. They get to talk with their friends. They get to write about their personal experiences.

Perfectly balanced, like all things should be.

Like Thanos, my reasoning was flawed. I ran out of time to do everything, and the students only got to do the boring parts. There wasn't enough time to talk about their vacations - they only had time to do the drills, the practice, the dry stuff I had only had them do to help them do the fun stuff at the end.

They still got something out of the lesson, but it wasn't fun like I intended.

Ok, so, take two will be better. Right?

This time I nixed task 2 and did task 3 and 4 together as a class. This gave them more time to talk with each other and write their essays.

But this class has its own atmosphere. They don't want as much freedom in their essays. They need an even more rigid structure. So I had to create a guideline for them on the fly.

A strict set of rules. I went to ~. My best moment was ~. The most delicious thing I ate was ~. ソーユーこと, that sort of thing.

It took a few classes and a few tries, but I smoothed out the edges after a while.

Now I can do the lesson with relative ease. I have different adaptations of it with different levels of freedom or structure for different classroom atmospheres. It has a place in my head, a method of execution I've practiced and understand and can take out at a moment's notice, even when I suddenly get scheduled for three surprise classes in the morning like I did today.

That on-the-fly restructuring, that need to read the air and make a split-second judgement, the students' ever-changing level of interest and motivation - it keeps you on your toes.

It's kind of exciting, though. You hear about soldiers getting a sort of combat high in battle. I think teachers get a combat high, too, dancing to the notes of the classroom like that. It's got a particular thrill to it despite being stressful.

THEY AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION! FALL BACK

Kind of like that speed bump my father used to joyfully launch off of. It wasn't in the road's design, and it should have been a nuisance, but he found beauty and excitement in that would-be nuisance.

A bump in the road is a part of life, always. Might as well make it fun.