I was walking around the room, proud of my awesome ESL lesson, when my friend Lynn sent a mayday text asking where a friend of hers could find, um, certain Western feminine products in Beijing. I immediately texted back subway directions, with the additional notes about the secret DVD shop in the basement of a menswear shop nearby.

I have a unique skillset.

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Talented

I had a couple of boys in my class who competed to answer the most questions, win games and generally succeed in class. In doing so, they made it cool to raise your hand, and cool to have the answer. This lifted a lot of the burden of encouraging class participation from me, and all but eliminated two of my unfavorite classroom events: the horrible dead silent stares following a question, and the hilarious hipness of not having a clue.  The downside was that I also had a class cheater, a boy who desperately wanted to compete with the others, and it was weird for me to create classroom games with anti-cheating mechanics.

I believe that anti-cheating measures and dire warnings about plaguerism set up an antagonistic relationship between teacher and student. I want students to feel comfortable asking me questions and relating what we’ve covered to their other interests.  How can you ask questions of someone who’s just told you they think you’re lying scum, that you’d be downloading a term paper right now if they hadn’t thwarted your sneaky plan with threats of CopyScape? 

On the first day of fall semester, I told the kids they if they needed to come in late, leave class early, or go to the bathroom during class, they didn’t need to ask permission. They should just do what they needed as quietly as possible and catch up what they missed from a classmate or on the class blog. Thanks to years of asking permission and requiring a hall pass for everything, they couldn’t believe it at first. I don’t know if this system would work in a bigger school (I probably wouldn’t be allowed to do that in public school), but it was a great policy for this group. Now I didn’t have to spend ten minutes listening to stories about why it really, really, really wasn’t their fault they were two minutes late, and we didn’t have to interrupt the flow of discussion to request and give permission get up for a tissue or go to the toilet.

I didn’t have any helicopter parents. This is one factor over which I have absolutely no control, so I’ll just be grateful it happened.

My classroom this semester shared a wall with an awesome teacher who saw (or, I guess, heard) my students cheering or laughing as a sign of a successful, active learning environment. Let’s just say that has not always been the case for me, and it’s been quite hard for me to turn a roomful of duds into active participants and then face criticism over my unruly students. No scolding about noise, or veiled remarks about uncontrolled students, from my classroom neighbor this term!

Some of this great semester is me and my teaching awesomeness. A last-minute room reassignment to a room without a whiteboard doesn’t mean a botched lesson. Six new late-adds can be added into my lesson plan.

Let’s talk about classroom nirvana. This is the state where I’m pitching my lesson difficulty right to hit the mainsteam kids without boring the highest achievers (easier to do here without a Charlie Gordon in class!), I’ve split up the chatterboxes, I know who’s listening without taking notes and who’s just staring off into space, I can recognise whispers and rustles without turning around, for that magical “James, leave Kimmy alone!” while I’m writing on the board.  It takes me a long time to become an education jedi, so I usually get to this state towards the end of the semester, and have two or three great lessons before the class ends and I have to start learning names all over again. I got to classroom nirvana about halfway through this semester, and just had a string of really good classes.

Blah blah blah, the kids learned a lot,  I could see their vocab improve and their understanding of  poetry deepen, and more blah blah blah. But most importantly, the kids were my evil minions.

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Chinese School After-Action Review

But some of it is MY EXTREME AWESOMENESS, that is, my teaching experience has manifested in an ability to anticipate school disasters, and not let a last-minute room reassignment or a broken photocopier become a cause of panic.

This is a class of anxious honors students, who aren’t entirely sure what happens if you get a B but it probably involves hellfire and damnation. I remember being challenged by the uniquely Chinese classroom mix of students who’d memorized the dictionary definitions word-perfectly, and the students who wouldn’t tell me the time in case they got it wrong.

But now? I’m conducting an English-class orchestra, nudging each part of the class along until they reach the conclusion they wouldn’t have accepted from me.

Last week I gave the kids Frost’s The Road Not Taken. I did want them to reach the conclusion that Frost was onto something, and to think seriously about personal priorities and when to follow the herd, but I knew that the kids who answered that right off were just spitting out what they thought I thought they should think.

Like so many Chinese things, the direct path doesn’t get there. (I should admit that I found the copied groupthink responses on independence and personal priorities very amusing.) When I chose the reading, I figured that at least a few students would have done it in another English class and they would want to know whyyyyy they have do this poem that’s so boooooooooring. (And they say English isn’t a tonal language!) Also, poems are haaaard.

I asked them to respond, and asked why they thought they had to read this poem so many times. One of my students announced that the only reason we read this poem is because it’s by Robert Frost, and he’s considered such a great poet. (I docked myself two points, I’d expected his seatmate to be the one raising this objection.) And that he wants to choose his own path by NOT liking the poet that everyone else does!

I copied “Education doesn’t change life much. It just lifts trouble to a higher plane of regard.” from my index card onto the board. I asked then to respond to this quote, too. There was a discussion that involved some kids trying to guess if I wanted them to agree with it because I’d written it, or disagree because it seemed anti-school, and there was also a faint popping noise as a few heads exploded.

As if by an occult hand, one of my students announced he’d much rather read what this guy has to say than read the old yellow woods poem.

Then I asked my students to whip out their usually-forbidden phones and have a race to find the source of my quote. Robert Frost.

Finale.

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By Any Other Name

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Full of Win

I’ve been on the receiving end of too many work-related last-minute phone messages to feel really comfortable about this news getting to the kids, but when I finally got to my classroom, they were all sitting in their seats, and the chatter wasn’t too loud. I figured someone must have come by to tell the kids to wait quietly, and I asked the kids if anyone from admin had been in.

“No, but don’t worry, Miss Meg. We wouldn’t have told them you were late!” one of my students said immediately. “We’d have said you were here, but off doing something really important!”

I would never ask or encourage the kids to lie to school administration for me, but, secretly, I’m a little flattered that they would have.

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This Is Just How Caesar’s Legions Got Started

I try to focus on the things I like here. Working in the Chocolate Bean, good meals at Bosphorus and Unaabi Grill, the Middle Earth poster in my boss’ office, my wonderful students, driving past Awesome Street, walking around Hoffman Lake (yes, that’s the real name!). Playing with Isabelle. Our apartment, a happy bubble of Meg and Stick. The simple enjoyment of English conversation hasn’t entirely worn off yet.

And I like the little town library here. It’s between the school and the train station, across from the post office, an ESL lesson come to life. This is also, perhaps not so coincidentally, one street that’s good for foot traffic. I love reading the liberal bumper stickers and seeing the reusable book bags.  I remind myself to really enjoy the easy access to English books now, because I hope I’ll soon be missing them again.

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Checking Out At The Library

I drive past Bosphorus restaurant every week on my way to teach at Chinese school, but it was our first time eating there. Inside, Bosphorus is decorated with posters of Turkish landscapes and artwork, painted pottery and blue-and-white glass evil eye medallions. (Being classicists, we joked about how to warn off the evil eye.) The coffeemaker and a silverware caddy are visible to patrons, like a diner’s prep station, and you can also also peek into the spotless kitchen.

Our area of North Carolina is mostly chains, convenient at times, but facelessly interchangable with everywhere else. Bosphorus, with its mix of diner efficiency and cheerful exotic decor, stands out with of character and warmth, amid mandatory flair and planograms from corporate office.

We ordered a mezze platter,which came with delicious warm bread. It reminded me so much of the grilled bread from Muslim Noodles. The main difference was that Muslim Noodles bastes the bread with a tasty spicy oil concoction, but Bosphorus serves a tasty spiced oil as a dipping sauce.  I spent so much time in China cooking Western food, but there are a few Chinese dishes I miss, and grilled bread is one of them.

I really like vegetarian choices that are filling meals, not token salads or the old replace-meat-with-a-portabello-mushroom standby. Also, there were no stupid artichokes on the menu!

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Bosphorus

After a couple of silly questions (“But, Miss Meg, I wouldn’t accept the speaking engagement! I’d be too busy in Hollywood!”), they settled down to writing their papers. The secret subtext was to get the kids thinking about their futures and their goals, and the blatant assignment was to use formal vocab and proper grammar.

My students wrote about becoming reality TV stars and Pokemon masters. And two of my twelve students, the world-famous dentist and the millionaire poker player, mentioned promoting themselves on Facebook as a key to their success.

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Kids Today!

Lights… has a solid storyline, amusing NPCs, engaging minigames and pretty cutscenes. Nancy’s on the set of Pharoah, a remake of a big-budget Silver Age Egyptian story, where mysterious accidents keep happening, and she has to figure out who’s behind it. Does a crew member have a grudge? Is the production cursed? Does it have anything to do with the tragic death on the set of the original Pharaoh? What’s with that cat?

Playing as Nancy, players have to use items around them to solve puzzles, a lot like an old Sierra game, only without an inventory. Every screen has the items for the puzzle on that screen, which keeps the game very linear, and eliminates wandering from location to location, wondering what you’ve missed. With the solution to each room in that room, it’s impossible to get stuck.

A few days ago, Her Interactive posted a preview screenshot of Lights… and a sharp-eyed forum member noticed a sign for a bar in the background, causing a bit of a ruckus over whether a world in which alcohol exists is an acceptable setting for an E rated game. I’m even more baffled by the worries about a minor alcohol reference because Nancy Drew solves murders, embezzlement, robbery, forgery, etc. Seems like if you’re worried about kids seeing a sign for a bar, they probably shouldn’t see chalk outlines or death threats either. The game maintains the same feel as the novels, there’s suspense and mystery, without gross blood and guts (or any underage drinking). Also no foul language or naked people, which should make parents happy. There was nothing that I found offensive or inappropriate, on the contrary I think a clever, independent crime-solver is exactly what tween girls should be seeing.

I loved all the puzzles in Lights…. One of my greatest gaming memories is playing 221B Baker St. with my dad when I was a kid, and using the clues to break codes. The Nancy Drew Dossier puzzles were just challenging enough to make you think, without crossing the line and becoming work.

The challenges in the story were a collection of minigames. They were so varied that they became a bit hit-or-miss. Lights… will be the first in the Dossier series, so Her can improve any snags for the next one in the series. One annoying minigame had users light candles by clicking the matchbook and then finding the candlestubs in a dark room. Only then the candles blow out, and it’s dark again. You have to keep trying until you’ve managed to find and light all the candles in the allotted time. Games that are essentially “hit buttons really fast” always take me out of the story and ruin my suspension of disbelief.  Other minigames, like having Nancy make smoothies or play the piano, kept me entertained by introducing new rules and objectives for quick challenges.

The range of graphics styles for the minigames, like tropical cartoon fruit, a Matrixy green screen or pen-and-ink sketches, also kept things fun and light. Throughout the game, I was annoyed by the text choices. In my mind, PC adventure games are a safe place for zany behavior, and picking the “wrong” text choice in games like Monkey Island and more recently A Case Of The Crabs, is rewarding. Ask an NPC a zany question, get a zany answer. In Lights, Camera, Curses, I felt teased by seeing the goofy possible responses and being punished scorewise for choosing one. Even if I’m willing to take the points hit, the NPC doesn’t react to wrong responses. Why give me silly options if Nancy won’t say take them?

Overall, a solid game, finding a good balance between a fluffy game to play while you’re on the phone, and an all-encompassing game. The dossier series promises an entertaining casual game with a good mystery storyline, and they deliver.

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Nancy Drew: Lights, Camera, Curses

I take that back. Maybe I am a bitter old schoolmarm.

In Chinese school the other day, one of my high school boys announced that he didn’t have a pencil. I handed him a pen from the collection I have in my bag. I’ve got some one-jiao pens that must have fallen off the back of a rickshaw, and a bunch of promo pens. Stick’s stepmom Char works in elder care, and she has a seemingly endless supply of drug rep swag. The pen I happened to hand to the boy happened to be a Viagra pen.

I didn’t have any trouble getting my pen back after class, and I don’t think he’ll be asking me to provide one again.

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Be Prepared