Post 10: About Choral Speaking

I leave for choral speaking in fifteen minutes. It seems like an appropriate time to type up another little update and post about my life. In more general news, I have almost reached the official halfway point of my time here. It will occur while I am partaking in my two-week school holiday with my parents (and sister) as we travel through part of Thailand, touch our toes in Cambodia, and move through some of the sites of Malaysia. However, I did have a mid-year meeting with the other ETAs last week which went well, and I just continue to press on with lessons and the regular pitfalls, drama, and tidbits of fun and joy that come with being an ETA in Malaysia.

Alright! It’s finally time to talk about choral speaking.

Usually, throughout the day, my little students will pop into my room or find me in the hall to ask me if we have choral speaking. The conversation goes something like this:

“Teacher, ada choral speaking?”

“What?” I always act like I have no idea what they possibly said.

They pause as they think about how to translate before saying, “Today have choral speaking?”

“Yes.”

“Four?” They hold up for fingers to double-check that I understand.

I nod and say, “Yes, at four.” I usually hold up four fingers, too.

“Until?”

This is my favourite part of the conversation. Before I answer them, they try and bargain with how soon we will leave practice.

“4:30?” They ask hopefully though they know I will never agree to that.

“No! Students are still arriving at 4:30. We can only finish at 4:30 if everyone comes on time.”

“Five, teacher, five.” The student will plead holding out their hand with all five fingers.

“We’ll see,” I say with a smile. “If everyone is good, we will finish at five. If you are naughty, 5:30.”

“Aw, teacher,” they whine slightly though they’re half smiling.

I shoo them away knowing that I’ll see them later.

I always leave for choral speaking at 3:50pm. It guarantees that I will arrive with the first batch of students returning from their homes. Some students do not have enough time to leave school at 2:40pm and make it back for practice so some of them are already wandering around the hall. Typically, one or two of them will announce my arrival as I pull up on my motorbike and come greet me with some piece of news. They’ll inform me that another student isn’t coming or just complain to me that they are tired or hungry or that someone smells because they did not have a chance to go home and bathe. I take it all in with smiles and usher them back into the hall where there are, at least, fans.

Malaysians are stereotyped as not being punctual. It’s a fair stereotype. Though I would like to start practice at four or shortly thereafter, we usually don’t start until 4:15 to 4:30 because I simply do not have enough students to start warming up or anything else. Sometimes this is frustrating, but I am undeniably accustomed to it at this point. You must always be ready on time just in case a Malaysian feels like being punctual, but one must also be patient enough for the Malaysians who choose to show up a half hour to two hours later than expected.

Today is my choral speaking group’s last practice before the two-week break. I’m hoping they don’t forget everything in that time because they all have memories like goldfish. Sometimes this means that they forget to show up for practice. Most of the time it just means that if they do not practice every other day, they will forget the lines.

Nevertheless, I must say how proud I am of my students already even if we haven’t won anything or competed at this point.

The very first practice I had, I remember how much I was sweating. I stared out at a sea of little Malaysian faces that were squirming and uncomfortable and nervous. I was nervous too. I’ve never been a conductor or a leader or really done much in performing. I always just watch. I don’t participate. And yet, here I was needing to be the conductor of a choral speaking group and show them how to speak and perform and throw energy into their voices and do motions in sync. What a daunting task. It didn’t help when I was told my initial script was too hard and too long so I chopped it to one page. Even then, students told me it was too long. I encouraged them that they could learn it with time. Then, of course, I found out about the rules for the choral speaking performance. Now my script was too short. So I added two pages. That really thrilled the students. But bit by bit and piece by piece, we broke it down and spoke it. Often, it is still not clear what they are saying or, now that they know the words, it is just a race to the end, but we are getting somewhere.

When practice starts, I assemble my students into three groups: walrus, oyster, and carpenter. My original script was the poem “The Walrus and the Carpenter” by Lewis Carroll. It’s changed since then, but a walrus, oysters, and a carpenter still play roles. I just tell them that we are going to run through the script and hold up my fist. As their conductor (for warm-up only as there is a student conductor), I wait until their eyes are on me enough to see the count of one…two…three…

Then they are off and reciting. Some of them are dancing in place. Others look like corpses on their feet. Some like to punch one another or swing their arms like airplanes and smack the students next to them. Some still squeeze their hands together nervously. They look like a mess for every warm-up. Standing still is impossible, but I let it happen just as long as they will remember to do the motions as well as wiggle all over. This is what I get for having students from the ages of twelve to seventeen. It is a fun bunch though.

After warm-up, I do a variety of things. Each practice, I can only really focus on one aspect at a time. Sometimes, we work on memorization in the areas of the performance where the students are still struggling or are still week. Sometimes, I focus on the motions and making them synchronized and energetic. Other days, I just work on pronunciation, volume control, and speed. Slowly, they work towards a better version of their choral speaking selves.

There are regular breaks at choral speaking. There are days where in an hour, my students have managed to do the entire script twice. I would call that a bad day, and they wonder why I don’t let them leave early. However, if I don’t give them a breather to talk and wander and kick one another, they will not perform at all. Really, sometimes I just feel like a wrangler of some wild animal that is semi sentient since we speak different languages.

Nevertheless, as time has gone by, I know they understand me better. They may not like being able to understand my instructions when It defies their shy natures and the lazy personas they’ve learned to adopt after so much discouragement from teachers. We carry on though and laugh and smile and have breakthroughs in conversation as well as run into many, many walls.

That is a summary of choral speaking in fifteen minutes.

Post 9: A Day in the Life Continued

Alright, I think I am going to continue talking about my daily life in these little chunks. Especially because though I took a weekend trip with my school which was fun and has resulted in my current sick state, it can be summarized fairly quickly.

Katie’s attempt at a summary: I went on a three-day-weekend trip with some of the faculty and staff from my school this past weekend. My mentor could not attend so she sent her niece with me to be my personal translator and so she could practice her English. We took a bus there and back which blasts air-conditioning. I bought a blanket for the trip back because I was so chilled on the 9-hour-long drive up. We went to the island of Langkawi which is a popular shopping spot for Malaysians because it’s duty free. There was a lot of shopping. I bought key-chains for my choral speaking students because it’s expected that you bring souvenirs back for friends and family. We went island hopping a little bit (I swam in a freshwater lake and taught a Malay girl how to swim). I road on a cable car (you would think it was a roller coaster with how much the Malays tremble with fear). We even had a BBQ by the sea. Oh, and I slept in a room with four other Malays and there were only three twin-sized beds – COZY! The Malays shopped so much that we didn’t arrive home until 1:30am on Tuesday, and I had to teach that day (oh, and did I mention I hadn’t finished my lesson plans yet?). There.

The drive to school.

Driving to school is pretty uneventful. It’s a fairly straight stretch of road. I turn out of the parking lot and then wait at the light. Someone recently ran into the light across the street so I depend on the countdown for the intersecting traffic because I know when it reaches 30, it means that my light should be green. So I drive to school with traffic zooming by me. The road curves a little left and a little right, but nothing special. The most eventful part is probably the turn across traffic and the hill I have to climb on my motorbike once I’m in the school gate. I drive up past the hall (where we have assembly on Monday and choral speaking practice), past the field, and up and around the canteen (cafeteria) and various school buildings. I park under a little cover, take off my helmet, and usually hear a disembodied voice that says, “Good morning, Miss Katie” or “Good morning, teacher!” I’ll look around and then respond with a wave, a smile, and “Good morning” or “How are you?”

“How are you” is an extremely common phrase. We all say it all the time and read into what people’s responses are on a regular basis. In Malaysia, the reply is the most robotic “fine” you have ever heard in your life. I don’t think they even know what the word “fine” means half the time. Thus, in some of my classes, I’ve told them never to answer with just “fine” because it makes me sad. They have to say “well” or “awesome” or “great” or “tired” or something that’s a bit more interesting. Yes, I realize that we native speakers use “fine” constantly, but when we say “fine,” secondary meaning is discernible by tone. Because of the degree of fluency of most of my students, tone is still in process.

Right, so I walk between the two main buildings and climb to the first floor. I go into the office, punch my little card on the time clock that’s seven minutes slow, sign my name in the teacher attendance book and do one of two things. Option one: I go turn on the computer and the photocopiers because I have some sort of handout I want to print and then make copies of. Option two (which can also be the only option depending on the day): I leave the office, go upstairs, and take out my key to the Bilik Sal (Resource Room). I unlock the door, take off my shoes, and walk across the tile floor to where my desk is in the corner. I drop my bag, unload my various notebooks and prepare for the day. Which may include a peek down at what's happening at the morning's assembly.

Except for Tuesday, I don’t have a class for the very first period of the day so I can sort of settle in and wrap my head around the lesson I have for the day and brace for various student encounters in and out of class.

My usual day consists typically of journaling on my experiences here, reflecting on the lessons I teach, reading, documenting all my activities in the school, talking to students, teaching, arranging programs, informing students about practice, and eating or having tea at the canteen. On any given day, I do all those things with just some emphasis on one aspect or another.

When I’m finished teaching for the day or when school is out (some days, I go home early), I drive back to the apartment, change, possibly have a rest or snack or check e-mail or simply breathe in my apartment for a few minutes before I turn back around and go to choral speaking practice. I’ve described what choral speaking is, but not what a choral speaking practice is like, but that will have to wait for next time.

Post 8: A Usual Morning

It has come to my attention that, of course, my writings thus far have provided a rather porous understanding of what it is that I do here on a regular basis. Like all my other posts thus far, this will not be exhaustive, but I’ll try to just write about a little chunk of my life in the next…fifteen minutes because then I am heading out, and I’ll see how far I get in telling you a touch more about my daily life.

It begins at 5:55am. That is when my alarm clock starts blaring from the little side table beside my bed. I reach over stiffly and strike it into momentary silence. I consider whether I want to wake up just yet or risk not getting into the bathroom first. Some mornings, it’s worth being annoyed about having to wait to use the bathroom to just lie in sticky black for a little while.

What do I mean by sticky? Oh, but of course! I’m a little sweaty when I wake up in the morning. When one does not have air-conditioning and the world outside is perpetually warm, that happens. I mean, I may sleep with a sheet over me on cooler nights. Most days, I just lay on top of my stiff foam mattress and call it good as I rest my head on my stiff foam pillow. My accommodations are not complex. That is okay.

So I wake up and slowly move through my fourth-floor apartment to the kitchen. I take out a pot, fill it with a little bit of water, set it on my two-burner “stove” and start my water boiling. Every morning, I have oatmeal. Any of my roommates from university know that this is not very different from what I did there (except I might rotate with Chex or granola, but those options are not available to me). While the water is heating, I take a bowl from the drying rack, a spoon, spoon out a serving of brown sugar in the bowl, and wait for the tell-tale bubbling from the pot. I cook up some oatmeal, and go sit in a chair by the fan so I can stay cool while eating my piping-hot breakfast.

Most mornings, I get up and open as many windows and doors as I can to help cool the place down. The reason I do not keep them open all night is to keep nature out. Having lizards in the house is very annoying and occasionally messy if not just startling. It is not fun to almost step on a lizard. It is not fun dealing with lizard poop. It is also not fun when one accidently squishes or dismembers a lizard and then has to clean that up. In addition, insects that like to bite visit in the evening so sleeping is a time to be attacked. Alas, another reason not to keep windows open even if they would provide a degree of coolness. There are no screens on the windows.

Once the oatmeal is eaten and I’ve enjoyed some sleepy meditations over methodically masticating mush, I go and wash my dishes. One must always wash the dishes! Ants love to eat anything and everything if flies do not. Thus, to keep the kitchen and home clear of more things that bite the skin and crawl all over, cleanliness is definitely a virtue. I do not always succeed and then must start a bleach battle.

From washing dishes, I brush my teeth and then have some quiet time. To, ya know, be quiet.

Just before seven, it is time to don my school attire. The night before, I always select the appropriate baju kurung for that day. I cannot always be trusted to make decisions of such importance in the morning so I  pull one out of my little closet the night before. This is partially due to the fact that every Thursday, I’m supposed to wear the traditional batik to school and have forgotten in a sleepier state. Furthermore, on Wednesdays, we have special activities in the morning which might also demand different attire. With a baju kurung on and my bangs clipped back so they don’t flop all over my face and stick there as I’m sweating through my teaching hours, I am ready to head out the door.

By 7:10am, I am descending from my floor down to the parking lot.

In the “car park,” I head over the corner where they sometimes burn trash. This is where I park my motorbike, Eisenhower aka Ike. I’m not sure why a Yamaha Lagenda should be named Ike. It makes about as much sense as naming a Subaru Outback Arturo. However, with the combination of a long, dignified name and a really sharp nickname, it gives me opportunities to be affectionate to my motorbike on its good days as well as (mentally or out loud) yell at it when it feels, yet again, like being obstinate. If all goes well, I start my motorbike and head for school.

And that’s how much I can type in fifteen minutes.