Being Observed

Finally, I started on "the new life" today. I taught my first lesson today ... actually I don't think I taught anything ... just went through some of the class policies and some of the things that the class should expect. As always, I did not get much sleep the night before. It's the day before classes dread that I get in Singapore as well ... Ms Tan gets it ... and we'll like stare and the ceiling the day before a new term and ask each other, intermittently, "you still awake?"

Anyway, last night there were like people in the street outside our window talking really loudly. They just parked their car in the middle of the street and started to have a conversation at the top of their voices. So at least there was a reason for NOT getting enough sleep. An excuse, more like -- I doubt I would have slept very well anyway.

So being typically anxious, I got out of the apartment really early -- which actually turned out to be quite fortunate as there was a train delay later. I got to the college, "the Borough of Manhattan Community College", about 1/2 an hour before ... which was just nice ... got waved through the NYPD officers on security duty -- yup all CUNY campuses have NYPD security officers ... I think because we're a university that is run by the city ... columbia for eg, employs their own security people ... -- and found my room.

Of course my paranoia materialised in the fact that there was a blackboard (which I have not used since ... lower sec ...) and no chalk on the board. Of course being paranoid (and slightly obsessive) also means that I had made a mental note of where to get fresh supplies of chalk from (the Dept Office photocopy room...) when I visited the college two days ago. Come to think of it, it's these tiny things that make me most anxious. It's not the content of the lesson ... it's like where to photocopy (nowhere for now as I don't have authorisation), where to get the name list (nowhere for now cause the Dept hasn't made up one) and where the rooms are located. Actually, I ended up directing new students to their rooms cause they kept coming into mine even though the number of their schedules said something different -- I guess people are attracting to a classroom with lights on, nevermind the room number says "N 736" and not "S 722".

Anyway, the students in my class -- students, not pupils, according to the MOE powers that be because they're all over what age is it, 14? -- drifted in throughout the hour long lesson. They couldn't find the room, went to the wrong room, etc. They're an immensely mixed bunch -- I got them to write their names and we have (a sampling) ... "Kimberly Ramos", "Shi Jie Tan", "Peteulah Charles" ," David F. Narvaez", "Vllanda Barnett", "Alan Aramburu"... so - a real hodge podge of ethnicities. Assuming that position on the teachers' desk does wonders for your credibility and authority. I just sat there and they came in very respectfully and sat very quietly in their seats. I could have been just another student faking it ...

The nice thing about the class was that they were quite spontaneous. When I asked for the different kinds of writing that they knew, hands went up all over the class. They were pretty eager to show what they knew. I was actually rather relieved about that. Nothing like being in a totally alien environment and having a totally silent class. Anyway I amazed myself at how anal I was about going through the class guidelines ... I normally don't but teaching cross-culturally, I decided it was proabably appropriate to do so.

So after going through all the required stuff, I introduced myself and asked them where they thought Singapore was. One girl said "Next to Malaysia!" Someone said, "In Thailand" Most said, "In Asia! Near China!" I needed to explain South East Asia -- which they immediately understood because of Vietnam. To establish more credibility, I explained that I'd taught at several places (which is true) and in High School (which is true) and that I was a PhD student (which is also true). THEN ...

Me: "Any questions? Nothing too personal now ..."
Girl: "How long you've been here, in NY?"

Me : "Long enough to know what TriBeCa* stands for ... Now for your homework assignment ..."
Me : "How long have I been here? What is Time but a shred of that complex fabric called Existence? To account for the Time that I've been here would reduce my existence to random threads that precariously stitch together the patchwork of my life ... Now for your homework assignment ..."
Me: Errrm ... Two weeks...

At which point the class breaks up in what seems to me to be an enthusiastic uproar -- but I'm autistic so they might actually have been protesting ... : "Woah that's crazy man!", "You gotta be kidding me!" "Two WEEKS? Man!"

Ok. So I'm slightly worried now that I've blown my cover. But actually, why should it worry me? Ah well, we'll see how the next lesson goes. Hopefully they'll turn up.



*TriBeCa actually stands for "the Triangle Below Canal (Street)" so that wouldn't have been a lie either. Somewhat like SoHo, which is often mixed up the London's once seedly now uppity Soho, which stands for "South of Houston (Street)".