Ask a stupid question . . .
and you're probably a teacher.
I've spent this week going over the concept of "conflict" with my ESL class. That's conflict as in the basis of all stories, as well as conflict in real life. So today they were supposed to be starting essays on a conflict they've faced in their own lives and what, if anything, they learned from it. I have one kid who was in a life-threatening situation and learned something along the lines of life being worth fighting for; I had another kid whose conflict with a parent gave him insight into the importance of family bonds. That kind of thing.
But my resident bad boy, Manuel, who is a bundle of charm and unfiltered impulses, kept saying he didn't have anything to write about. Trying to help him brainstorm, I started asking questions about conflicts in his life. He said he didn't have any. I talked again about "opposing forces" and he brightened up and said, "Oh, I got into a fight!" and punched the air. Oh dear, I said, a fist fight? Was this at school? He informed me that yes, it had been at school, and then he explained what the dean had thought of it.
This wasn't the kind of conflict I had in mind, but with the blind determination of a teacher who needs to put an essay grade in her grade book, I persisted, "So did you learn anything from that?" I think I had some notions of negotiation rather than confrontation, or at least the preschool version of learning that "words" are better than "fists." Manuel gave me a dazzling smile and cried enthusiastically, "Oh yes! I learned something! I learned that if you hit them very hard . . . they fall down!"
I suppose I'll learn to stop asking stupid questions someday.
I've spent this week going over the concept of "conflict" with my ESL class. That's conflict as in the basis of all stories, as well as conflict in real life. So today they were supposed to be starting essays on a conflict they've faced in their own lives and what, if anything, they learned from it. I have one kid who was in a life-threatening situation and learned something along the lines of life being worth fighting for; I had another kid whose conflict with a parent gave him insight into the importance of family bonds. That kind of thing.
But my resident bad boy, Manuel, who is a bundle of charm and unfiltered impulses, kept saying he didn't have anything to write about. Trying to help him brainstorm, I started asking questions about conflicts in his life. He said he didn't have any. I talked again about "opposing forces" and he brightened up and said, "Oh, I got into a fight!" and punched the air. Oh dear, I said, a fist fight? Was this at school? He informed me that yes, it had been at school, and then he explained what the dean had thought of it.
This wasn't the kind of conflict I had in mind, but with the blind determination of a teacher who needs to put an essay grade in her grade book, I persisted, "So did you learn anything from that?" I think I had some notions of negotiation rather than confrontation, or at least the preschool version of learning that "words" are better than "fists." Manuel gave me a dazzling smile and cried enthusiastically, "Oh yes! I learned something! I learned that if you hit them very hard . . . they fall down!"
I suppose I'll learn to stop asking stupid questions someday.