How do you know if your English is good enough?

One politician in Arizona found out the hard way that her English isn't quite as good as she thought it was....

(via The Economist)

I fired a student on Wednesday.

No, maybe that's not exactly what I want to say.

Maybe I didn't fire her. But I did terminate our working relationship. And it's not the first time I've done it, either. Why?

I've been meaning to write this post for some time. One of my aims in starting this blog was to be honest about how teachers see the relationship between students of English and teachers of English here in Spain. And one thing I want to be totally honest about is how teachers feel about the way they're treated by students.

First, let me say that these things happen so infrequently that, if they weren't so damn aggravating, I wouldn't bring them up. Ninety-five percent of you do not behave like this; 95% of you are absolute dolls and I love you to death.

Second, I just want to speak in general terms. One of the reasons why I focus on teaching adults is that... well, we're adults. We should be able to communicate in reasonable, mature words, without being rude, insecure, uncommunicative or passive-aggressive towards each other. But there are certain things that students do that bug the hell out of me. I try to filter these things out from the start, and I won't just take anyone on as a student. (This is the reason why I'm trying to reduce the amount of teaching I do for academies: academies will take anyone with a pulse and a credit card, and it doesn't matter whether or not they're really interested in improving their English or not.)

So...again, in general terms, here are the five things that you can do if you want me to back out of our client-teacher relationship.

Cancel your classes all the time. Yes, everyone has days when they need to cancel classes because they're busy, they're travelling or they're sick. Once every two or three months is normal. Once a month is not unusual, if you have a demanding job. When you start cancelling your classes so often that I can't remember what you look like, or you only have classes once a month, you lose your classes. (That's why the ten-class bonos have a three-month time limit.) See, a cancelled class is income that is lost. Even if you pay for your classes in advance, that's time that I can't recover at a future date.

Don't talk. I know, I say this all the time. Seriously....if you could care less about talking, why are you interested in being an English speaker? (And don't give me the excuse of "oh, some people don't like talking." It's true: there are a lot of people who don't like talking because they feel that silence permits them to control the situation and keep them from making mistakes...and if the other person is made to feel weird or uncomfortable, well, that's her problem!)

Confuse English classes with confession, therapy sessions or career counselling. This is a tricky problem, because the whole idea of being able to communicate should mean being able to talk about personal experiences. Keep in mind, however, that my focus is on communication, not on any matters related to the mind, the soul or labor relations. My relationship with my (now ex-) student basically ended because the person in question is going through a severe depression which is undiagnosed and making this person's life a living hell. I don't have a problem with trying to help you with something that's bugging you, or with an issue that's come up that is driving you nuts. Six months of constant complaining, breakdowns, tears, and panic attacks means that you need the help of someone who is a LOT more qualified than I am. Especially when you....

Consistently tell me what you can't do, without focusing on what you CAN do. I understand what it's like to be afraid of learning a new skill and not feel like you're prepared to try something new. Not doing something does not make it easier. Complaining that you can't do something - ditto. If you're truly afraid of using language in a particular situation (like negotiations or giving presentations) - that's all right. Just be honest about it with me. You're not crazy if you're afraid of something, but you're a fool if you let it control your life and make your English classes unpleasant. NOT CONFRONTING A FEAR IS A CHOICE.

Treat me badly or in an unprofessional manner. I left this one for last because, I think, there are going to be a lot of teachers who have stories about this, but here's my list.

Don't ever, ever, ever, ever even think about:

- making me use the service entrance of your building (if you have one.)

- asking me to translate stuff for free. I don't work for free.

- bringing your infant son or daughter into the room where we're having classes to do potty. (I am NOT making that one up.)

- calling me after 11PM with a question. Send an e-mail.

- threatening me in any way, shape or form.

- blaming me for your lack of progress.

- asking me to reduce my prices. I am willing to negotiate lower prices if you're having more than six hours of class a week, but if you want to pay someone peanuts, call some other monkey.

In short, if you want to be treated like an adult, be prepared to treat me like one. I'm not an ogre and I'm not a witch, provided I'm treated with respect.

It's not you, it's me. Uhh....No. Wait. It really IS you, after all.

Teachers are normal people, most of the time. We laugh, we cry, we have good days, we have horrid days. Generally speaking, if you're working with human beings, you have to be able to accept that people are going to behave like people. And sometimes, being humans, they have human ways of dealing with problems. Or not dealing with them.

I just had class with a student who I'll call Oxford. Oxford is a very successful lawyer who's had senior positions in the Spanish government. Oxford has a hell of a time with English, however - it takes forever to get sentences out, there are a lot of problems with vocabulary, and I do wonder about Oxford's ability to handle information. For the past two years, Oxford has had conversation classes, but it never occurred to me to ask Oxford why the classes had to focus on conversation and nothing else.

I think I learned the reason why today.

Since Oxford is setting up a lot of meetings, I thought, OK, maybe a lesson on taking notes and manipulating written information would be a good idea. No way. At first, Oxford didn't resist directly; Oxford asked a lot of questions and didn't quite get the idea behind reading a text and condensing information into notes. It was as if my questions were bouncing off Oxford at every angle, like a basketball that has too much air in it - you could get close to the net, but not in it.

It turns out that Oxford doesn't read. I don't really know the reason why. When reading the newspaper, for example, Oxford claims to scan for the most important words, but once Oxford more or less understands the article, that's it. The newspaper goes in the garbage.

Okaaaay...what about law school? Or laws? Or legal briefs?

Same thing.

(Pause.)

Okaaaaayyyyy....

So we have fifty minutes left of class, and the class has just hit the wall. Oxford cannot or does not want to do the exercise - I'm still not sure why. But then it occurs to me: Maybe Oxford has some kind of reading disability or dyslexia or something. The best thing would be to ask Oxford what's going on, but that's not a good idea: Oxford keeps getting more and more agitated.

Boom. The exercise goes in the garbage.

Next plan: Listening. I decide to improvise a listening exercise from something we did the other day, but there's a problem: the academy has lost the CDs for that textbook. All right. Oxford wants conversation? That's what we'll do, then. This would be a good plan, except that Oxford is now in such a bad mood, conversation becomes a one-sided, somewhat understandable monologue about steel, Chinese manufacturing, how evil Coca-Cola is...you get the idea.

So what do you do in those situations? The same thing, I imagine, that parents do when their kids have tantrums. I just sat there, nodded, tried not to look at the watch too often, asked questions slowly, and tried to understand Oxford as best I could. At the same time, however, I kept thinking, Where is this coming from? Why is this student behaving like this?

The reason why is probably irrelevant. But when you first start teaching, it's really, really, really hard to realize that, just like us, students are going to have horrible days. Students are going to react badly if they feel they're being attacked. Students will get frustrated if they don't see why an exercise is important, and when a student explodes, sometimes the best thing to do is to try to be sympathetic and not pass judgment.

I don't know if Oxford will ever make progress; in some ways, that doesn't matter. Oxford still attends classes, and that's the most important thing. The second most important thing is that we, as teachers, do not think that you are crazy or weird or unstable or nuts because you have days like that. We all have days like that.

"Some days, you're the windscreen; some days, you're the bug." -- Mark Knopfler

A test is not a test.

If you haven't had one yet, trust me, you're going to get a test in the next four weeks.

Don't stress. Don't freak out. Don't be scared.

It's not a test: It's a pat on the back. You can choose to focus on your mistakes. Why not focus on what you did well? If your class doesn't have a cutoff point, why is 80% a failure?

It's not a test: It's a diagnostic tool. The questions you got wrong are not mistakes. They're a way to analyze what you need to study more.

It's not a test: It's a reality check. Sometimes, it's not very pleasant to see your errors in black and white (and red) in front of you, but it's better to know NOW, while you can still do something about it.

Remember that a reaction is always a choice. How you choose to react to a test -- and your test results -- can determine how well you'll do in your English class this year.