It was only later that I realized that it's hard enough teaching anything to anybody in a language they barely understand, let alone something as complicated as Middle Eastern history. And my English classes usually have lots of activities to break up the monotony of me talking. But this was just gonna be straight, unadulterated 50 minutes of me. Personally, I couldn't stand the thought of listening to my own voice for such an uninterrupted period. I'm sure you can understand. So, you would have thought that, given this challenge, I would simplify for the sake of clarity. Oh, quite the opposite. I decided that I was going to cover Middle Eastern history right, and in my warped mind that meant everything from about 8,000 BC until yesterday. In 50 minutes. Therein lay the rub.
I was crazy busy that week, but I spent hours over many nights agonizing over how to give a 1-hour lecture on this subject and what and how to teach them. I even considered dropping the subject in favor of Central and South American history, in which case I was gonna tell them where many of the foods we know and love today really came from (ie, chili peppers, chocolate, potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, tobacco, vanilla, cranberries, blackberries, pumpkins, turkeys, and, of course, the avocado. Really, where would the world be without guacamole?
I really didn't spend enough prep time, though, because when the hour came I was pretty much resigned to relying on my year and a half's worth of "winging it" experience. That and a massive chalk timeline I hastily drew behind me, as well as some pitifully undersized maps. It started off well enough, with a nice visual aid in the form of a map of the Middle East passed out to each student with some prominent countries' names missing. I had them identify Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey, which they did with reasonable success. However, once the visual aids stopped and the discussion of Catal Huyuk and early Sumerian civilization began, they were lost. As for me, I started a quiet panic in which I would write things on the board, think of stuff to say about them, stare off into space for a minute, lost in thought, wipe sweat off my brow, point to the handout, erase what I had written. And of course there was the inevitable and pointless appeal to the audience: "Okay so far?" Once we passed into the Common Era I entered my knowledge comfort zone a little more, so winging it became less painful for all, but still, man, teaching is hard! I think I only managed to pique their interest when I mentioned all the amazing things the Arabs were doing while Europeans were busy flinging their dung at each other. That is truly fascinating stuff, I must admit.
It doesn't get much better than being up at the front of 40 students, literally sweating balls, frantically trying to simplify your explanation of how the Arabs started the first university to offer degrees and how this was a really great thing. The kids did a decent job of faking a bit of comprehension and/or interest, though, I'll give them that.
After the lesson, I asked the best student from the class, a girl who embraces English with a passionate love and who studies diligently everyday and talks to me as much as she possibly can. "Were you able to understand it?" I asked her, expectantly. With a huge gleaming smile on her face, she replied enthusiastically, "No, but it was still great!"
There you go, folks. I love this country.
Part of my magnificent handout:
The visual aid that worked:
1 comment:
The first lecturing experience of even the best professors tends to go like that. Gauging your enthusiasm for teaching and your decidedly unpretentious view of yourself, I think you would probably make a good professor. That being the case, I demand you come to UCLA graduate school and drink beer with me.
-Ian
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