Face to Face

I can feel the sweat rolling down my back and I’ve only been sitting in this classroom for 15 minutes. I am already stuck to the chair. The fans overhead jerk at the papers on my desk but they do little to cool the room. A student walks nervously into the room, and I glance at the list. Four students down, thirty-eight left to go. Ah, final exams.

The next student comes and sits in the desk chair right next to mine. I can see the sweat beads on her face. Of course, it is only about two feet from mine. Right…not the same concept of personal space. The students have all done an oral final before, so they are not nearly as nervous as the first time around. Some of them still shake a bit and stumble over words, but no one looks like they will run out of the room screaming.

The freshmen finals are a short conversation, testing their ability to speak clearly and communicate their ideas in a comfortable, colloquial manner. I ask some open ended questions and the students answer – usually either in a 3 minute monologue until the timer goes off or in about three whispered words. We talk about school, parents, roommates, travel, dating, the future… It’s kind of interesting what students will open up and tell you. Some of the conversations I would have been glad to continue for half an hour, if not for the half a dozen other students peering anxiously through the door.

At the end I ask if they have any questions for me. A few quickly rattle off the inevitable, dreaded questions: “How do you feel about the Chinese? Do you like Chinese food? Can you use chopsticks?” Outwardly, I’m smiling and answering as quickly as possible. Inwardly, I’m bashing my head against a wall. I’ve known you for a year! Have I taught you nothing? There’s nothing offensive about these questions (except the fact that I’ve lived for a year in a place where Chinese food and chopsticks are pretty much what’s available, and clearly I haven’t starved), but after hearing them from at least half of my 300+ students, it’s hard to handle.

Next semester I think I will start out the first class with “the top 5 things that make foreigners want to bash their heads against the wall.” I’ll have them memorize it and write a speech on it. Maybe we’ll recited it as an opening to each class. No, I doubt it would work. It’s too engrained already. I guess I’ll just have to put up with it until they get tired of asking such boring questions and move on to something we can really talk about. Like, “How do you feel about armadillos? Do you like Bosnian food? Can you use a power saw?”

As the classroom dims in the evening light, the last student flees in relief. They are cute, really. Several said, “We hope you will teach us next semester!” And I found myself saying, “Yeah, I hope I will too!” What? What am I saying? I've been counting the days until I was done teaching them. Hmm, I guess it’s true though. After all, they said they would miss me. They said I was the best (though sometimes the first…) foreign teacher they’ve had. One said I have a beautiful, clear voice (when I haven’t lost it, like today when I sound like a beautiful, clear frog). They said they learned a lot and improved their English. They liked my green skirt. Okay, keep the complements coming. I’ll be back next year.