Chinatown ESL

Last Saturday, I had my first stab at being a teacher. The day before, I was called in the evening and had been told that it was imperative that they needed another English teacher to teach ESL students the next day, and I agreed to give it a try.

Around 10:30 a.m., there ended up being a group of about a hundred gathered around the center of Harvard Yard. Together, we organized into levels and trekked to our classrooms, where we began to introduce each other.

Most of these people are seniors, and all of them don't know how to speak English real well. As with any culture, the Chinese really respect their elders. The Chinese also really respect their teachers. It was tough for me to get used to being called "Wong laoshi" (laoshi = teacher) by people who had grandchildren who were potentially my age!

When we started our lesson plan, I saw mostly seniors (65 and older), and a few people under 60, dutifully open up their lesson books, take notes, and give their best efforts to repeat theh English terms and terminology that we provided them. Even though I only had just met them, I developed an instantaneous respect for their desire to learn, and admired what past experiences they must have already been through. To still be excited about classes, and about learning, has been one of the most inspiring things I have ever been a part of!

This week, we collected the homework assignment that we had assigned at the previous week's class. I read about 15 short paragraphs on husbands, deceased family members, and countless entries on sons, daughters, grandsons, and granddaughters. My respect for these people have only grown with time, and seeing them once a week has been a great way for me to re-invigorate and inspire myself to be as dedicated and as passionate, and as caring and respectful as they are. I have learned a lot from these people. I'm really grateful for this.