High stakes teaching

I have forgotten how all-consuming teaching is.

I teach writing now at the tutorial center to 10-13 year olds, as well as drama at a local secondary school. It is interesting how teaching at a school (in HK, anyway) is viewed as much more socially respectable than a tutorial center, even though the stakes feel higher for me as a teacher.

Let me clarify: local teachers have a much greater workload than me and deserve much respect for that. What I mean by higher stakes is this: in a school system, your students are stuck with you for a year whether they like it or not. Whereas at a tutorial center, if students and their parents are not happy, they can and will vote with their feet. In this sense, there is much more incentive (shall we say, imperative) for me to perform well.. and when I say perform I refer to a feeling that is akin to begin on stage. I feel the same exhilaration and potential for failure every week as in a Lecoq autocours session. The whole rhythm of my week crescendos on Friday and Saturday - that's when I have to be in peak performance mode. After that, Sunday, Monday I can putter around, begin to mark homework, and begin the cycle of preparation again.

Oddly enough teaching small classes (I have 4-6 students a class) is not any easier than large class teaching. In fact, it demands a greater degree of sensitivity to individual interests and quirks, as well as the group dynamic. When you only have 6 people, each individual really affects the group energy. One enthusiastic student is able to spark the interest of the group; conversely, a negative, tired student is able to make more of an impact than if they were in a larger group.

Gradually, gradually, I am getting the hang of it. It's taken me a while, partly because we design our own curriculum. I wouldn't want it any other way, but it means a lot of initial energy before the syllabus takes momentum. My students tend to be quite bright, and I have been blessed with one or two who have produced incredible work, thus setting the bar for the others.

I am learning, gradually learning how to let student interest gather momentum. In one class I have a group of 6 boys, who are great friends with each other, but I had trouble getting them to focus on task. So I sat down and had a chat with them - look, how do you want to use our time together? One student said, "Just give us more time to write." And suddenly I realized that I had been planning so rigorously, and doing too much "teaching" - that is, me talking and trying to get them to do the handouts I spent so much time preparing. They just wanted to write stories.

And that's what we spent a good part of the next lesson doing... and I also discovered another thing. While I had trouble getting them to put pen to paper in class, once we got the laptops out - voof - students were happily producing. They had to be reminded twice that they could take a break if they wanted to. I guess this is a generation that thinks on a keyboard.

Next week things rachet up another notch. I begin teaching drama at a secondary school (Forms 1-4), as well as rehearsals for an upcoming production. So I count myself lucky, I guess, to have had September to get used to all of this, before adding another 2 balls to my juggling act. In between my long journeys to tai chi or lunch with someone I find myself wondering where this is all taking me. Yes, my life is brimming with activity, projects and people; and yet a foresee (perhaps in part yearn for) a time where things are more simple. Ah - there is a time and place for everything, and right now I am seizing the opportunities as they arise.

Back home, settling down

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Dear friends,

Just a short note to say that I graduated from London, and have now settled back in HK, where I intend to be for the foreseeable future. It feels good to be home, and to be able to greet the bus drivers around my house by name.

This time's homecoming has been a little smoother of a transition than when I graduated in 2003. The job market is much better (SCMP headline: “Bosses in talent race as jobless rate falls”), but more importantly, it seems that I managed to collect a circle of friends during my year-in-the-cubicle. It is now these friends, theatrical or otherwise, who are looking out for me.

I have been invited to join two theatre projects. The first one is called,《我家有個大門神》(My home has a Big Door God.) It involves me manipulating a huge puppet and walking – preferably cart-wheeling – on stilts. Rehearsals begin in October, and we have 12 shows that run all over Hong Kong from December to March.

The second show is a rerun of “The Overcoat” at the Fringe club in January, and then in February, the show is touring to Singapore. This will be the first time in my professional life (i.e., paid!) that I will tour internationally.

In between all this, I am also planting seeds for my own company, The Burnt Mango Dance Theatre. I’m aiming to get the website sorted out in the coming months – get my own domain, edit some videos and so forth. I’ll let you know when the house – warming party is.

To support the activities of Burnt Mango – which at this point is a synonym for me - I teach English to small tutorial groups on Fridays and Saturdays. For every 2 hour lesson I teach, I earn what used to take my colleagues in Liannan a month and a half to earn. So for two days of work I am earning enough to get by, support my dancing, tai chi, and even put aside some capital for Burnt Mango. It feels good to be self sufficient.

I'm teaching drama afterschool at a nearby secondary school – it's good for me to stay in touch with a school setting. We're going to put on a play, or maybe even a musial...

Being home comes with social expectations and norms that I didn’t have as a student abroad. In London I was in a community where everyone was creative. Here I have to make the effort to continue to do what I love doing, especially when everyone else I know is working like a donkey at stable, respectable jobs. I like this slight friction - it pushes me to clarify what I want.