Tag Archives: ESL

The Sexy Woodsman

(Note: I am traveling for the next few days, but please stay tuned for pictures of Paris!)

Teaching classic children’s stories to my students has been a lot of fun, but there are some challenges.  Some of the vocabulary is kind of story specific.  I mean, a non-native English speaker can survive without knowing the word “porridge,” although it’s awfully important to Goldilocks when she gobbles down Baby Bear’s breakfast.

Recently I’ve been reading Little Red Riding Hood to my primary students, or “Piroska” in Hungarian.  I now appreciate what a mouthful Little Red Riding Hood is to say.

First, I showed them a picture of a hood.

Then, I showed a cloak (which some of my boys know from a computer game) because the word is used in the story.

We kind of skipped over the riding part.  I mean, she did not ride a horse to grandma’s house.  If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have stopped to talk to the wolf, and the wolf wouldn’t have eaten her and grandma.

This is how the lesson went:

Me: Say “Little Red Riding Hood.”

Students: “H-ooooooooooo-d.”  (They draw out all their double-o’s like in “moo” or “boo.”)

Me: (pointing to Red’s picture) “Who is she?”

Students: “Piroska!”

Me: Good.  (*mentally banging my head against a wall*) But in English, she’s Little Red Riding Hood.

Student: But what is her name?

Me: Little Red Riding Hood IS her name.

(Maybe I should have just said that it’s Sarah.)

We then spent a few minutes pronouncing hood, woods, book, and look.

After I read the story, the students had to write a few sentences using their vocabulary words.

One fourth grade boy’s sentence: The woodsman is sexy.

Not what I expected from a nine-year-old, but at least it was grammatically correct.

The fifth graders decided today that Little Red Riding Hood would invite Justin Bieber to her birthday party.  They would do karate and eat wolf meat and wolf cake.  She would get a wolf fur cloak as a present.  Evidently Red carries a grudge.

And, of course, they would listen to LMFAO’s “I’m Sexy and I Know It.”  (If you don’t know this song, be thankful.)

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Story Time

On Wednesday, two worlds collided: my high school students visited my elementary classroom for story time.

As a special project, my ninth graders worked in groups to translate a children’s story from Hungarian into English.  They then illustrated their story.  I promised them that they would get to read their stories to primary students, and thankfully my colleagues at both schools helped make this happen.

The result was great.  I was really proud of my high school students.  They used their English to communicate a story to children, applying their language skills to real life.  I know how self-conscious teenagers are, and I know how hard it can be to speak in front of groups– even (or especially) small children.  They did a great job.

The first, second, and third graders listened in awe of the “big kids.”  I am so amazed at how much English they understand after just a few years of studying, and I hope seeing the high school students speak English inspired them to keep working.

9th Grade Girls

Second Graders

Second Grade Boy

9th Graders

9th Grade Boys

1st Graders

3rd Graders

The expression on this boys face really says it all.  He absolutely loves stories, and his third grade class got to hear them two periods in a row.  When he sat down for the second lesson, he said, “Kössönünk!” (We thank you!)  And he really meant it.

When I signed up to each in Hungary, I requested to be placed in a high school.  I didn’t find out until a few days before school started that I was teaching in a high school, a primary school, and a kindergarten.  At the time this surprise frustrated me, but sometimes it’s best not to get what you ask for.  Working with all ages has been very rewarding, and the Story Time project is a memory of teaching in Hungary that I will always treasure.

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A Hungarian Graduation

Last Friday my school had its graduation ceremony.  In the days leading up to the ceremony, the graduates came to school in strange costumes, sprayed water on the underclassmen, gave presents to their teachers, and sang songs for their teachers.  Although they were a little rowdy, these activities didn’t distract too much from the lessons.

(At least there are no senior pranks: Jesse says that his graduating class filled the hallways of the school with chickens.  My class was too scared by the principal to do anything.  He said that if we pulled a prank or had a senior skip day that we would have to take final exams, which no one wanted to do.)

As I’ve mentioned before, the bilingual program at my school is five years long.  So there were three graduating classes of 12th graders and one graduating class of 13th graders.  My 13th graders were pretty resistant to my lessons throughout the year, but I must say that things improved in recent weeks.  I think they felt like a 5th year of high school was torture, and at last they could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

At some schools, students sing to their teachers during the school day.  Others go to their teachers homes in the evening.  Last week we were at home when we heard shouting and the clomping of horses hooves.  Two horsedrawn wagons parked outside of the neighboring apartment building.  About thirty teenagers spilled out of the wagons and sang screamed a song for one of their teachers.  Then the teacher invited them upstairs for a snack.

I think it is nice that there is an official way to express gratitude to teachers here.  In the U.S., individual students might give presents or write a letter to their favorite teachers, but there is no organized ritual.

On the day of the commencement ceremony, rain threatened.  While the rest of the sky was blue and sunny, one single rain cloud unleashed five minutes of rain on the school yard immediately before the ceremony started.  The rest of the time I was nearly blinded by the sun.

When I think of high school graduations, I think of mortar boards, stupid robes, students’ names being called, diplomas presented with a handshake, and the same twenty measures of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance being looped over and over again.  The Hungarian ceremony has none of these, and yet it still felt familiar.

There were songs, speeches, and awards.  And it was boring, which is probably an international requirement for commencement ceremonies.  This one was particularly challenging for me since I only understood every tenth word of Hungarian.

Flag Raising

Class 13

Thanks, mom and dad!

Passing the flag to the underclassmen

Beautiful, although bad for the environment

Graduation always entails a mixture of excitement and fear.  In this shaky global economy, there is quite a bit of fear.  If financing a university education and finding a job is a concern for students in the U.S., it is an even bigger concern in Hungary.  Hopefully my students’ fifth year of high school will pay off and their English skills will open doors for them.  I wish them all the best.

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Back to Burger Land

While I am traveling this week, here are some excerpts from life in an ESL classroom:

Fifth grade student entering class: “Are we going to draw Justin Bieber getting . . .” (She paused to mime someone being grabbed) “by aliens?” (Apparently, word had passed from sixth grade to fifth grade about this activity.)

“No, we’re watching The Three Little Pigs.”

She paused to translate this in her head, then gasped, “A három kismalac!” and skipped off to spread the word that we would be watching a video.

Even my 5th and 6th graders love this story.  They have to fill in the missing words in the dialogue.  It is a challenge for them, and they are determined to get the right answer.

Unfortunately, I now have three different versions memorized and fall asleep chanting to myself, “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”

. . .

Fourth grade student describing her alien planet:

“There is Ms. Rebman, a goat, a volcano, and Buzz Aldrin sticking the flag [in the ground].”

She seems to really love goats, so I guess it’s a compliment that I was selected to be on the planet as well.

On another student’s planet, Buzz Aldrin’s grandma was a cannibal.  All I can say is: !?!?!!?!?????

. . .

A conversation Jesse had with a student:

“Sorry for asking, but why are you here?  I mean, why come to Hungary?”

“To teach you.”

“Are you coming back next year?”

“No.”

“Oh, so you’re going back to Burger Land?”

“What?”

“Burger Land.  Isn’t that where you’re from?”

“I’m from Ohio.”

“So where is Burger Land?”

“What?  There is no Burger Land.”

This student is about eighteen years old, and he was not being sarcastic.  He truly believed that Jesse came from Burger Land, USA.  I would fear that this indicates something is horribly awry with Hungary’s education system if it produces kids who think Burger Land is an actual place, but Jesse tells me that the other students in the class were looking at him like he was crazy.

How the student got this idea is a mystery.

I suspect it has something to do with the omnipresence of McDonald’s across the globe.

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Spring Forward: A Tavaszi Program

I have been an audience member at many Hungarian high school programs (Hungarian Prom), but I had never participated in one until last Thursday.  My school asked me to give a five to ten minute presentation about spring traditions in America and Great Britain at a Spring Program held at Fazekas, a nearby high school.  I talked about Ground Hog Day, Mardi Gras, food, the White House Easter Egg Roll, and Royal Maundy, when Queen Elizabeth gives coins to special citizens at a church service.

I did not know until the program began that I would be the first speaker.  This was slightly terrifying.

One of my tenth grade students (“József”) from was my translator.  He is quite a joker.  I am no stand up comedian, but we kept the presentation light-hearted.  (Speaking to Europeans made me realize how strange some American traditions are.  I was telling  a room full of Hungarians that Americans use a rodent to predict when winter will end.  I also tried to convince them that chocolate peanut butter eggs are delicious.)

Some primary school students performed a butterfly play in English.  It was adorable:

Here I was being attentive, sitting with my students and other teachers:

My ninth grade students baked some desserts for the program, and my tenth grade girls made decorations.  They were very proud!

"Water Pours"

Another American teacher spoke (Ironically, we’ve never met him before.  And I still haven’t.  He disappeared before I got a chance to introduce myself.), as well as teachers from France, Germany, Spain, and Italy–specifically Sicily, which made me even more excited about our vacation.

The program was like many assemblies in the U.S., except that Americans only have school-wide assemblies.  There were teenagers from eight different schools at this event.  Europeans put more emphasis on interacting with other schools in non-competitive settings.  I think this is a good idea.  As an American student, every time I met kids from outside my district my focus was on earning a trophy (Please note: for writing skills or trivia knowledge, NEVER athletic prowess), and not on learning or making friends.  That only happened tangentially.

When presenting to a Hungarian audience, there does not seem to be an expectation that the audience will be silent.  As I spoke into the microphone, there was a low hum of voices buzzing throughout the gym.  I wasn’t offended because that’s how things are here, but the other American seemed displeased!

After the presentations, we got to eat food and there was a competition (the students were assigned a team by number, not school).  I enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with my students outside of the classroom.  I only see them for 45 or 90 minutes a week, and it doesn’t give me a lot of time to get to know them.

Jesse was also there with some of his students.  My students were fascinated by this.  Their comments:

“He looks 18!”

“Is he Irish?”

“How long have you been in the status of married?”

“Where did you meet?”

It was a fun afternoon celebrating spring, and then Jesse and I walked home.  I was officially on SPRING BREAK.

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Of Chuck Norris and Pipe Cleaners

Student quotes of the day . . .

10th Grade Boy: “You really like Chuck Norris, don’t you?”

The students had finished a viewing activity where Partner A watched a video clip (without sound) and described what was happening to Partner B, who was facing away from the screen and had to write down what Partner A said.  This required them to use a lot of English, and I was happy with their level of engagement.

I was, however, perplexed by the student.  He seemed sincere, but does he really think that I sit around at home watching Walker Texas Ranger?

This echoed a student from a few weeks who said to me, “You really don’t like Justin Bieber, do you?”

Um, sorry kids, I don’t actually care about Chuck Norris or Justin Bieber.  But because you bring one of them up EVERY PERIOD, I mention them to show that I know what your interests are.  (Although sometimes I wish the students varied their jokes a little bit more, I always laugh when these guys work their way into the lesson.)

. . .

Student at the refugee camp: “I like you.  You’re nice.”

This melted my heart.  We were working on a flower craft that involved paper, pipe cleaners, and plastic straws.  The students also designed some bracelets with the pipe cleaners.  I loved, loved, loved pipe cleaners as a kid.  They are so soft and versatile.  Sitting at a table with girls from Kosovo, Afghanistan, and Somalia and watching them creating flowers, butterflies, and hearts with just a few art supplies was a pleasure.  Their experiences are radically different from my own, but it’s just a reminder that we as humans always have more in common than we think.

The same student asked how to write my name and made me a heart.  She made my day.

It got a little crumpled in my book bag, but I’m still proud of it.  The flower and the post-it notes are to cover up her name.

The past few weeks have been a bit tiring.  Because my immune system seems incapable of fighting off Hungarian viruses, I recently caught the flu that struck the primary school students and spent most of five days on the couch.  Luckily, Thursday is a Hungarian national holiday, and Jesse and I will be traveling!  We haven’t taken a trip yet this year.  Pictures of Budapest and Kosice, Slovakia will be forthcoming!

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The Lion Who Escaped from the Zoo

Every day, I come home and share with Jesse the charming things my students said. For example . . .

Fourth grade boy: “My house has a bedroom, a living room, a chicken . . . I mean kitchen . . .”

Kindergarten girl while tugging on my sleeve: “Ma HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” (Ma is “today” in Hungarian.  She was communicating that “Today is my birthday.”)

Kindergarten boy on entering the classroom: “Biscuits!”

How awesome is it that a student loves a word so much and is so excited about learning English that he just starts spewing vocabulary as soon as he comes into the classroom?

The kindergartners also love to chant “One, two, cha, cha, CHA!”  I should get video footage of them doing the cha cha slide.

Unfortunately, my students frequently say some not-so-charming things.  At the end of the day, I play these over and over in my head, and try to think how I can better respond to such situations in the future.

For example, one kindergarten boy always tells another boy that his picture is “csunya,” or ugly.  The boy he insults is honestly a little crayon challenged, but he’s doing the best he can.  With our limited common vocabulary, all I can do is say, “That’s not nice!  The picture is nagyon szép (very beautiful)!”

I am most troubled by the comments my high school students make.  I know that teenagers are genetically programmed to say and do inappropriate things, and that my role as teacher is to provide consequences when this happens.  I have to create a safe learning environment.  Some days this is really hard.

For example, last week a student was reading a story aloud and said, “The lion killed all the gypsies and became a national hero.”

My introvert instincts kicked in.  I was shocked and horrified, but I couldn’t immediately respond.  I needed time to think.  I needed peace and quiet, not a room full of squirmy adolescents.  I wish I had a remote control so that I could push a button and pause my students.  That hasn’t been invented yet, so we moved on with the lesson.

I left the classroom feeling horrible and frustrated with myself for not addressing the comment.

Later that day, when my tenth graders made fun of the homeless, gypsies, drug users, victims of sexual assault, as well as another student, I stopped class and addressed their choice of subjects.  This was a story about a lion that escaped from the zoo, for goodness sake.

I gave them a lecture about choosing different topics for humor.  I pointed out that homeless people died in the recent cold spell, gypsies are poor and have hard lives, and drug users suffer and die because of their addictions, etc.  None of those are things to laugh about.  I wish we’d had time for a dialogue instead of a lecture.  At least I communicated that they’d crossed a line.  Some of them rolled their eyes, of course, but hopefully next time they will choose their words more carefully.

(If I were a doctor, I would research why the onset of puberty causes teenage eyeballs to come loose.  I’m surprised they don’t fall out and roll all over the classroom floor.)

Teaching is a roller coaster.  I left that lesson feeling very low.  I am just here to teach English conversation, but showing compassion to other’s is an important life skill.  It’s also very hard to teach.  Some would say impossible.

I draw inspiration from one of my own teachers, a sociology-anthropology professor I had in college.  She exuded passion, calm, and kindness.  She challenged us to reflect on our beliefs and our worldview.  We not only examined our ideas, but we adjusted them.  I would like to help my students do the same.

Yesterday, my lesson with the tenth graders went well.  I passed out coloring pages (including scenes from Cinderella, Spider Man, Ninja Turtles, and Sponge Bob Square Pants).  Partner A had to describe the picture to Partner B, who drew the picture.

Not only does this group have a surplus of hyperactive boys, but in the past few months three of them started dating girls who are also in the class.  This is mildly nauseating to witness, and causes them to get distracted during the lesson.

Luckily, “Zsolt’s” girlfriend was absent yesterday.  Zsolt is about six foot tall and spends a lot of time weight lifting.  He also spends a lot of time putting gel in his hair every morning so that it stands up at the perfect angle.  He is a good English speaker but is rarely engaged in my lesson.

This is what I overheard as he worked with “Patrik”:

“There is a pig in the lower middle part of the paper.”  He beckoned me over.  “What is this?  I don’t know how to say this in English.”

“Fence,” I told him.

“There is a fence around the house. . .”

Meanwhile, Patrik laboriously sketched the pig, the fence, and the wolf in the lower right corner of the page.  They worked intently for fifteen minutes, barely glancing at their buddies behind them (who were off task) except to ask them how to say something in English.

At the end of the lesson, I asked the students when they might encounter terms such as “lower right” and “upper middle” in real life.  They thought for a second, and then said:

  • At the dentist’s office when the dentist is telling his assistant which tooth to remove
  • At an art gallery
  • In a math lesson
  • When talking about a map

One week ended on a low, and the next week ended on a high.

After a good lesson, I feel as great as if I just ran five miles.  On days when I get that feeling, I know that I am in the right profession.

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