I gave a reading test a few weeks ago, and since the class I teach is quite long, I wanted to explain the format of the test before I passed it out. The test was fifty points, but I misremembered the summary portion on the test being only five points (10% of the exam), but apparently I made the vocabulary questions 1 point each and the summary was 10 points (20% of the exam). The students, being very concerned about their lack of summary writing skills, were very concerned about the weight of the summary once they saw the paper test. They all sounded so alarmed, I told them I would change it to be the way I had said it in the beginning of class.

When the students got their test scores back, however, some of them regretted their decision and wanted the summary to count for more points. Others were happy with the value of the vocabulary and wanted the test to be the same. Another student wanted his/her own test to be weighted differently than the others.

Student A: “Can you make mine 1 point each for the vocab?”

Me: “No, I can’t weight your test differently than the others. That’s unfair.””

Student B: “Keep the test the same.”

Student C: “Yeah, it’s good already.”

Student D: “No, change it. 1 point each.”

Me: “I can’t do that now. I only changed it because I told you one thing and the test said another. I changed it to reflect what I said earlier.” (At this point, I am getting flustered in a flurry of options and opinions. Some of the students are murmuring discontent side conversations, and one student is scowling at me like I have just mercilessly kicked a puppy.)

Student A: “Can you do 1.5 points each for the vocab?”

Me (in my auctioneer voice, pointing around the room to solicit bids): “1.5? 1.5? Can I get a 2?2-2-2? Anybody-anybody? 5 points each? 5-points-5-points-5-points…going once! Going twice! SOLD!”

The students all laughed and then became quiet and civil, the classroom returning to normal. It was as if they recognized how out of hand they had gotten.

I’ve heard of many a teacher getting into a test of wills with students who want to haggle with them over grades or classroom policies. I never know what to do in situations like that. I never know if this is a language barrier (students don’t know the pragmatics of making these requests politely and appropriately in this context) or if it’s culturally acceptable to bicker with a teacher or if the student is actually just rude. It’s a kind of situation I would describe as a hostile confrontation if it ever happened with American students. I’ve taught English 101 to Americans, and it’s funny how differently a spirit of discontent is often actualized:           

“So the vocab was actually worth 20%?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” The student leans back and folds his arms defiantly. You know he’s upset. The whole class knows he’s upset. There is an awkward silence that quickly passes. In the back of your head, you make a mental note that you’ll probably be receiving a snarky student opinion survey after the semester is over about how unfair your tests are, but at no point do you expect your classroom to explode into a New York Stock Exchange-style bargain and trade operation over how you’re going to grade them.

This experience reminds me again about the need to teach students about culture in addition to language, and how important it is to have clear expectations. As off-putting it is to have my teaching philosophy questioned, I still welcome that criticism. It reminds me of that Power of Habit book I’ve been reading. In one chapter, it described a willpower study in which two groups had to resist temptation (a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies), but one group was told to give their input on the study and if they had any questions before, during, or after the experiment, they were welcome to ask them. They were thanked for their time and the experiment began. The other group was ordered to begin and given very little opportunity to voice their opinion.

Neither group ate any of the cookies, but the group that was given a voice also happened to give a more sustained effort on a boring computer task. The second group grew listless and despondent, performing poorly on the same task.

It may look messy, like you’re negotiating with an angry mob or standing before a military tribunal or firing squad, but I think we’ll get more out of our students if we gave them a voice.

-Bill

I find it very interesting that no matter where you go, there seems to be a standard for what you ought to do and what you ought not to do. I was discussing cleanliness in one of my classes last week, and it seems that it would be hard to find a people group on earth that says, "Yeah, we're filthy/disgusting/dirty, and we're fine with that." Most will have a standard or norm they go by. You'll find people peppered along a spectrum, some being the proverbial neat freaks, and others, total slobs, but most people will be somewhere in the relative middle of the particular group they grew up in. However, take that same middle and put them on another culture's spectrum and they will be unaware of the "inappropriateness" of their behavior. Back home, what they're doing might be completely fine, but in another environment, suddenly it's considered totally out there. 

I'm reminded of Thomas Balmès' documentary Babies. The film follows four babies, from four different parts of the world: two from urban environments and two from rural environments, but all four grow up to be healthy children despite different standards of living (the scene with the rooster walking around one of the babies' sleeping areas seriously freaked me out when I saw it in the trailer). I would recommend seeing it if you haven't.

Anyway, I shared some of my experiences living in South Korea that struck me when I first arrived. I remember walking into my first Korean bathroom and seeing a drain in the floor.

"Honey, look at this."

"What is it?"

"It's a... it looks like a drain?"

"Why is that there?"

"I don't know."

"Hmmm..."

We didn't know it right then (how could we have?), but keeping our bathroom floor dry was to become an intense daily battle. In the first month, we put on our thinking caps and did everything we could to reduce moisture--I think my wife and I even found some flexible rubber tubing that we stuck onto the edge of the tub because although our apartment happened to have a shower curtain (thank you, former waegukin resident!), the tub was not designed in such a way as to prevent water from running off the back of the shower wall and onto the floor. Looking back, I have no idea how my wife found this, but when your wife finds adhesive rubber tubing that might fix your ridiculous water problem, you don't ask questions! I can remember getting extremely frustrated every time I thought I had thwarted another invasion of the pernicious water droplets, only to step into a small pool with my socks later on.

As we visited other Koreans' apartments and subsequently used their bathrooms, I noticed they were extremely wet, but down on the floor at the entrance, there was a pair of bathroom slippers. I remember there were also these small raised platforms in front of the sink and toilet that provided some safety during high tides (right after a shower). I thought to myself, "Hmmm... they don't really seem bothered by all this excess moisture."

Looking back at this now, I realize Koreans probably don't consider this "excess moisture" to be excess moisture. They probably consider it the way a bathroom is, and now that I live in a two-bedroom apartment and clean two bathrooms each week (except when my wife grants me a reprieve), I think, "Man, this would be so much easier if I could just grab the shower head and just blast it all around here and wash everything down the drain!" (actually, I'll have to credit my wife with this revelation, since while talking to her about my discussion in class, she pointed out the practicality of hosing down the bathroom).

Then the Saudis chimed in and said how weird it was that Americans don't have drains in every room of a house.

Student: "I never see Americans really mop their floors."
Me: "What do you mean? In Saudi Arabia, you have a drain in every room?"
Student: "Yes. Most homes have them in every room."
Me: "Really?"
Student: "So that is why I say, I never see Americans really mop their floors."
Me: "Well, in America, we do mop our floors. We use some cleaning products, and then we usually let it dry."
Student: "Yeah, but to me, this is not enough."

They explained that having a drain in every floor makes it possible to really mop the daylights out of the floors and rinse it all down with fresh clean water. 

I started thinking, "Hmm, now that I think about it, it is kind of gross that in America, we just let the mop water sit there until it evaporates." This to me is the beauty of cross-cultural interaction--by interacting with people from other parts of the world, you see things in a new way, and you re-evaluate what you thought your whole life to be the best way to do something. I think living abroad really helps you think outside the box and see solutions where you might not have noticed them.

(I also think it's funny that a conversation about something as mundane as floor drains can get so heated. Every semester, I learn one more thing that makes America different from my students' home countries, and every time I think I've taken an inventory of everything that might surprise them, I find out something new!)

Is there anything you've noticed in your travels that really struck you? Have you implemented any of them back in your home country?

-Bill