A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

In the USA many parents and educators (justifiably) worry and complain about large class sizes. Year after year bills are proposed to limit the number of children per teacher or staff member, and all decry inner-city schools with more than 35 students per class.

I'm here to testify that these people have a very good point, but they have absolutely no idea how bad it can be. I defy any teacher to walk into a room of 64 6th graders sitting four to a desk, with no air-conditioning, constant traffic noise, little if any discipline, and without speaking more than a hundred words of their native language. Did I mention that these kids have perhaps never been called upon to speak English before this point? And that they are now up to Chapter 3 of their English textbook, entitled "Where are you from?"? And that they have absolutely no discipline? OK, now try to imagine spending 2 hours with this class, able to explain only the simplest exercise, game or song. I really believe that I should be going straight from this class to a therapist.

But you needn't feel sorry for me. (Not that I thought you would be -- my family is relentlessly unsympathetic, so I expect the worst from you.) My other three classes at Le Quy Don Jr. High School are fabulous, the kind of classes that make you think that teaching is a fabulously rewarding and entertaining profession. These classes are also huge -- between 40 and 60 students each -- but they are worlds away from the Waking Nightmare, as I call it.

But before I extol the virtues of my three good classes, I'll back up a bit and tell you a bit about the setup at Le Quy Don. The middle school is basically a big rectangular complex with a large paved courtyard in the middle, but that basic description doesn't really give a sense of how green and alive it is. The perimeter buildings are two or three stories high and each floor houses a row of high-ceilinged classrooms opening onto a wide hallway with balcony. All classrooms have a bank of huge windows that look out on the noisy street, and all the windows facing the balcony and courtyard are windowed as well for one fundamental reason -- lack of air conditioning. There are only a handful of classrooms that are fitted with air-con, and thankfully two of my classes are in these. During my other two I sweat like a pig; it's not a pretty sight.

The paved courtyard is not as stark as it sounds. It features towering trees which are surrounded, for some unknown reason, with colorful houses for birds. I suspect these pigeon condo complexes are not a favorite with the faculty, as they have been directed to park their motorbikes directly under them. Although there are badminton court lines painted all over, I've never actually seen anyone playing, but the area is used for Phys. Ed., which is accomplished in typical Vietnamese style -- lots of regimental marching and guided calisthenics. It looks deadly dull.

But the most interesting thing that goes on in this courtyard is the daily assembly. Actually, there seem to be several daily assemblies -- I teach for 3 hours in the morning and I see two of them, and they have to be seen to be believed. Each class makes two lines in their appointed space in the square, girls on the left, boys on the right, and they all reach their arm out to touch the next person's shoulder to ensure that they are an equidistance apart. It's telling that one of the first commands Vietnamese students learn when they learn English, right after "Open your book" and "Sit down", is "Make two lines." All students wear uniforms, of course. Boys are in white shirt, blue pants, and a red scarf tied around their necks like boy scouts. Girls have a more feminine puffed-sleeved white blouse, the same scarf, and a dark blue jumper. They all have "Le Quy Don" and their own names and class numbers embroidered on a patch on the front, and on gym days they wear official LQD athletic shirts and track pants with prominent Adidas logos. They look adorable, truly.

The first assembly starts at the god-awful hour of 6:30 a.m. Classes don't start until seven, and when I first started at LQD the kids were free until ten to seven, but apparently the administration decided that not enough mental and physical torture was taking place and some students were in danger of having a good time while at school. So now every day they line up a half hour early and have a lesson of some kind, some universal truths that all grades will benefit from, while teachers and monitors wander around and check kids' homework. That's actually the good part of the assembly.

For the bad part, you'll have to turn in tomorrow -- I'm off to teach another class!

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 9:01 PM