Monday morning. 5 am. I open the door of my aunt's home in the suburbs of Suffolk County, Long Island, and walk into the freezing morning air. The stars are still spread in the sky, clearly visible despite the moonlight reflecting from the wide Cheshire smile up above. I sit in the car for a few minutes to warm it up and put on a mix of classical music to start the day and keep me alert. I'm depending on the playlist for energy, because I'm running on one hour of sleep. The first song happens to be Grieg's Morgenstimmung, as good a track as any to start the day. I rarely associate the suburbs with glorious natural beauty, but it's still dark, and it's all about the stars and the half-moon smile for the next hour, so I'm feelin' it.
I only slept one hour because I stayed up talking with my Aunt until 2 am, and then I had to look up directions from her home to the neighborhood in Astoria where I know I can safely park my car and get on the subway up to the Bronx to teach English at 8 am. It's over an hour subway ride, and it's over an hour drive to Queens from the south shore of Suffolk County, so I'm playing it safe. I began work at the New York Language Center last week, but I only had a 10 am class on my schedule. Today I begin my 8 am class. I also am substituting for an 8-10 pm class the next four days, so I will have plenty of time in between to go back to Queens and take an enormous nap, but I will still be spending about six hours total on my commute today, and four hours each day after. I'm not too concerned about the substituting, but the 8 am class is very important because they are my class for the next five weeks, and it's the first day. One week earlier I was late to my first day at the school due to forgetfulness concerning street cleaning and parking, a mistake I do not want to repeat.
I stayed up talking to my Aunt until 2 am because she's an amazing kind human being who has always been there for her family, whether it's her husband and three sons or her nieces and nephews, such as my sister and myself. When I first moved to New York City, I spent a few weekends at their home to escape the chaos of my living situation. She was the best person in the world to listen to my drama and give me positive advice and encouragement. Now she is going through a very difficult time, and needed me to listen to her for once, which I was very happy to do. I hadn't seen her in a year and a half, and I hadn't seen my cousins in almost two years, so it worked out nicely that my friend in Queens had guests and I needed to travel out to the island for a place to sleep. I'd already driven five hours from my parents' home upstate earlier that evening, and quickly visited my Grandma as well. Basically, this trip turned out to not only be about finding a place to sleep and catch up with relatives, but also to check back in with the first place on Earth where I learned how to exist.
After all of the talking and the directions I had some trouble sleeping, and didn't doze off until close to 4, thus one hour of sleep. But thanks to travel I am very used to such situations, and however much I am aware of the dangers of sleep deprivation, I know how to power through and get it done when I have to.
The drive goes fairly well, with no traffic until right before I get to Queens and make a few mistaken turns that send me into Brooklyn and back. But I still find a parking spot and get on the train by 7 am. I end up being only a few minutes late after the three hours of travel, and students are still signing in, just like the week before, so it's not a problem.
When I meet my new class, it turns out that the make-up is a little different from my 10 am, which is half-African students. This class is almost completely Mexican and Latino, the only exceptions being students from Kosovo, Yemen, Cote D'Ivoire, Vietnam and Congo. The rest are from Mexico, Ecuador, Peru, El Salvador, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. The class goes well, and then I teach my other class, with which I am well acquainted by now. We laugh a lot, which is always good after the beginning anxiety.
Then I go home and sleep for hours. I get back on the train to the Bronx to substitute at 8 pm. This class is almost completely from the Dominican Republic, with a few students from Ecuador, Honduras and Mexico, and two students from Albania. They're a slightly lower level than the other classes, but very animated and friendly, so it goes well. I'm not used to teaching at night, but I tend to be more awake at night, so it's not a bad situation. Then again, I would rather be diverting my energy to writing during these hours. It's okay though, because it's only for four days. Then I walk through the dark streets of the Bronx, with all of the shops boarded up. It's not very scary though. Apparently South Bronx is the bad part, and we're further up.
That's pretty much been the pattern the past few days: get up too early, alternate between listening to music and falling asleep on the train, getting to know my first class and getting to know my second class even better, riding the train back and napping for several hours before a little reading and writing in my post-nap haze. Then getting on the train again and teaching the night class. Then I read Deepak Chopra and feel completely content about life, despite the vicious hunger to succeed as a writer as soon as universally possible. I would stay at a library and work all afternoon on my book, but I don't want to hurt my body by not resting, especially after that one hour night on the heels of traveling a lot this past weekend. Also, the weather is much colder this week. I like that, but I'm aware that when the weather changes quickly, the body's defenses are down. Veggies, fruit and rest have been keeping me going.
When I taught in Japan and California I was able to ask my students about themselves, their lives and their countries quite often. In New York I am pressed for time, so I mostly teach to the textbook, with a little room for original ideas for activities, but not much. Also, their ability to express themselves and knowledge of the world beyond their own country tends to be much more limited than my previous students'. Even so, I learn a little by chatting with them before class and during breaks, and sometimes they surprise me with their very openly honest answers to questions from the book.
The other day I asked them to tell us about something good that happened in the past twelve months. One girl "grabe bird to her precious little princess," which I realized meant "gave birth to." Another woman traveled back home to meet her baby niece and nephew for the first time. But then another woman said, "Nothing good has happened in the past year. Only bad things." "Okay... what happened?" "I was pregnant, but then I lost my child." "Oh.... well...." what do you say to that? I said, "Well, my mother had a miscarriage with her first child, and my parents only wanted two children. So if she had given birth to the first one, and then my sister, well... I wouldn't be here." Then the woman who just met her niece and nephew said, "I miscarried my first four babies, but now I have two." Maybe that helped a little? Someone else bought a new laptop in the past year, which was very good according to them.
Then today the book asked people to talk about good advice they had received, and good advice they had given. One guy from Puerto Rico said, "I once told my cousin to move to America, I'll buy the tickets, come to New York, I don't care about the money. But he didn't listen to me. And a few weeks later he was murdered." "That's terrible! Were you afraid for his safety when you asked?" "Yes. That's why I told him to leave." "He should have listened to you." "Yes, he should have." That was a first.
During the late class we had to talk about places we wanted to visit, their advantages and their disadvantages. They don't really know anything about the rest of the world, so they all brought up their home countries. Almost everyone said, "Beautiful beaches, great restaurants, friendly people," for the positive, and "crime, corrupt politicians and police," for the negative. Although one man from the Dominican Republic said that he can drink and drive at home and it's no problem, but it is illegal in America.
On Tuesday, for the 8 am class, we read a story about a woman who was clumsy and awkward with her job and asked a professor for advice. The professor says it's a symptom of a deeper problem. As we read, I thought of my anger at not being able to easily find my car the week before. They figure out that she's not satisfied with her job, because it's not challenging enough. So he asks her what she wants to really do. She wants to sing. I want to write books. Anyone can sing any time. I can write any time. But I don't write as well when I'm wiped out from sleep deprivation, commuting and teaching. The doctor says, "I know you have a beautiful voice. The question is, do you have the courage to follow your dream?" She answers, "It's such a struggle. I don't even know where to begin." He says, "Nothing in life that is really worthwhile comes easily. If you want to succeed, you have to take risks. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on your life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the things you did." Smart man. Then we did the study questions, which were, "Why do some people continue at jobs they don't like?", "Do you think it's better to take risks in life or play it safe?", and "What is your dream? What would you really like to do?"
The answers to the first question were that some people don't have a choice, or they have people depending on them, or they don't have any ideas about what else to do, or they are scared to take a risk. The answer to the second question was almost unanimously taking risks, something they could all attest to, having left their home countries to come to America (many have said they can make as much money in a day in NYC as they make in their home country in a month).
I imagine I will continue to learn more from my students as the weeks go by. I've already met many human beings from places I had only seen named on a world map, as opposed to represented in person. I appreciate the new experience of teaching them, the strange inspiration from the books that I always seem to find, and the opportunity to have an experience in the Bronx, a borough I had previously ignored (as do most New Yorkers not living there). All of these students will be in new classes by Thanksgiving, and then we will get new students, and I will presumably teach the same material again, which isn't very exciting because it's already very low level. But it's keeping me fed and will eventually get me money for my own place, and certainly beats doing punch down's on a wine machine fifteen hours a day and going home to a tent, which is what I was doing at this time one year ago.
Just like the doctor said, nothing worthwhile is easy, and if you want your dream to come true you have to take risks. I've already taken a million risks the past few years, but the most important one is still ahead. I hope to have a draft of my book ready to show a literary agent by December, when the new class cycle starts, or by Christmas at the latest. I believe in the book and myself, and its ability to entertain, inform and inspire whoever has the time and interest. I just have to keep writing and listening to what the world has to say along the way.
(quotes from Exploring English 6 by Tim Harris and Allan Rowe, published by Longman in NYC, 1997).
I only slept one hour because I stayed up talking with my Aunt until 2 am, and then I had to look up directions from her home to the neighborhood in Astoria where I know I can safely park my car and get on the subway up to the Bronx to teach English at 8 am. It's over an hour subway ride, and it's over an hour drive to Queens from the south shore of Suffolk County, so I'm playing it safe. I began work at the New York Language Center last week, but I only had a 10 am class on my schedule. Today I begin my 8 am class. I also am substituting for an 8-10 pm class the next four days, so I will have plenty of time in between to go back to Queens and take an enormous nap, but I will still be spending about six hours total on my commute today, and four hours each day after. I'm not too concerned about the substituting, but the 8 am class is very important because they are my class for the next five weeks, and it's the first day. One week earlier I was late to my first day at the school due to forgetfulness concerning street cleaning and parking, a mistake I do not want to repeat.
I stayed up talking to my Aunt until 2 am because she's an amazing kind human being who has always been there for her family, whether it's her husband and three sons or her nieces and nephews, such as my sister and myself. When I first moved to New York City, I spent a few weekends at their home to escape the chaos of my living situation. She was the best person in the world to listen to my drama and give me positive advice and encouragement. Now she is going through a very difficult time, and needed me to listen to her for once, which I was very happy to do. I hadn't seen her in a year and a half, and I hadn't seen my cousins in almost two years, so it worked out nicely that my friend in Queens had guests and I needed to travel out to the island for a place to sleep. I'd already driven five hours from my parents' home upstate earlier that evening, and quickly visited my Grandma as well. Basically, this trip turned out to not only be about finding a place to sleep and catch up with relatives, but also to check back in with the first place on Earth where I learned how to exist.
After all of the talking and the directions I had some trouble sleeping, and didn't doze off until close to 4, thus one hour of sleep. But thanks to travel I am very used to such situations, and however much I am aware of the dangers of sleep deprivation, I know how to power through and get it done when I have to.
The drive goes fairly well, with no traffic until right before I get to Queens and make a few mistaken turns that send me into Brooklyn and back. But I still find a parking spot and get on the train by 7 am. I end up being only a few minutes late after the three hours of travel, and students are still signing in, just like the week before, so it's not a problem.
When I meet my new class, it turns out that the make-up is a little different from my 10 am, which is half-African students. This class is almost completely Mexican and Latino, the only exceptions being students from Kosovo, Yemen, Cote D'Ivoire, Vietnam and Congo. The rest are from Mexico, Ecuador, Peru, El Salvador, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. The class goes well, and then I teach my other class, with which I am well acquainted by now. We laugh a lot, which is always good after the beginning anxiety.
Then I go home and sleep for hours. I get back on the train to the Bronx to substitute at 8 pm. This class is almost completely from the Dominican Republic, with a few students from Ecuador, Honduras and Mexico, and two students from Albania. They're a slightly lower level than the other classes, but very animated and friendly, so it goes well. I'm not used to teaching at night, but I tend to be more awake at night, so it's not a bad situation. Then again, I would rather be diverting my energy to writing during these hours. It's okay though, because it's only for four days. Then I walk through the dark streets of the Bronx, with all of the shops boarded up. It's not very scary though. Apparently South Bronx is the bad part, and we're further up.
That's pretty much been the pattern the past few days: get up too early, alternate between listening to music and falling asleep on the train, getting to know my first class and getting to know my second class even better, riding the train back and napping for several hours before a little reading and writing in my post-nap haze. Then getting on the train again and teaching the night class. Then I read Deepak Chopra and feel completely content about life, despite the vicious hunger to succeed as a writer as soon as universally possible. I would stay at a library and work all afternoon on my book, but I don't want to hurt my body by not resting, especially after that one hour night on the heels of traveling a lot this past weekend. Also, the weather is much colder this week. I like that, but I'm aware that when the weather changes quickly, the body's defenses are down. Veggies, fruit and rest have been keeping me going.
When I taught in Japan and California I was able to ask my students about themselves, their lives and their countries quite often. In New York I am pressed for time, so I mostly teach to the textbook, with a little room for original ideas for activities, but not much. Also, their ability to express themselves and knowledge of the world beyond their own country tends to be much more limited than my previous students'. Even so, I learn a little by chatting with them before class and during breaks, and sometimes they surprise me with their very openly honest answers to questions from the book.
The other day I asked them to tell us about something good that happened in the past twelve months. One girl "grabe bird to her precious little princess," which I realized meant "gave birth to." Another woman traveled back home to meet her baby niece and nephew for the first time. But then another woman said, "Nothing good has happened in the past year. Only bad things." "Okay... what happened?" "I was pregnant, but then I lost my child." "Oh.... well...." what do you say to that? I said, "Well, my mother had a miscarriage with her first child, and my parents only wanted two children. So if she had given birth to the first one, and then my sister, well... I wouldn't be here." Then the woman who just met her niece and nephew said, "I miscarried my first four babies, but now I have two." Maybe that helped a little? Someone else bought a new laptop in the past year, which was very good according to them.
Then today the book asked people to talk about good advice they had received, and good advice they had given. One guy from Puerto Rico said, "I once told my cousin to move to America, I'll buy the tickets, come to New York, I don't care about the money. But he didn't listen to me. And a few weeks later he was murdered." "That's terrible! Were you afraid for his safety when you asked?" "Yes. That's why I told him to leave." "He should have listened to you." "Yes, he should have." That was a first.
During the late class we had to talk about places we wanted to visit, their advantages and their disadvantages. They don't really know anything about the rest of the world, so they all brought up their home countries. Almost everyone said, "Beautiful beaches, great restaurants, friendly people," for the positive, and "crime, corrupt politicians and police," for the negative. Although one man from the Dominican Republic said that he can drink and drive at home and it's no problem, but it is illegal in America.
On Tuesday, for the 8 am class, we read a story about a woman who was clumsy and awkward with her job and asked a professor for advice. The professor says it's a symptom of a deeper problem. As we read, I thought of my anger at not being able to easily find my car the week before. They figure out that she's not satisfied with her job, because it's not challenging enough. So he asks her what she wants to really do. She wants to sing. I want to write books. Anyone can sing any time. I can write any time. But I don't write as well when I'm wiped out from sleep deprivation, commuting and teaching. The doctor says, "I know you have a beautiful voice. The question is, do you have the courage to follow your dream?" She answers, "It's such a struggle. I don't even know where to begin." He says, "Nothing in life that is really worthwhile comes easily. If you want to succeed, you have to take risks. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on your life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the things you did." Smart man. Then we did the study questions, which were, "Why do some people continue at jobs they don't like?", "Do you think it's better to take risks in life or play it safe?", and "What is your dream? What would you really like to do?"
The answers to the first question were that some people don't have a choice, or they have people depending on them, or they don't have any ideas about what else to do, or they are scared to take a risk. The answer to the second question was almost unanimously taking risks, something they could all attest to, having left their home countries to come to America (many have said they can make as much money in a day in NYC as they make in their home country in a month).
I imagine I will continue to learn more from my students as the weeks go by. I've already met many human beings from places I had only seen named on a world map, as opposed to represented in person. I appreciate the new experience of teaching them, the strange inspiration from the books that I always seem to find, and the opportunity to have an experience in the Bronx, a borough I had previously ignored (as do most New Yorkers not living there). All of these students will be in new classes by Thanksgiving, and then we will get new students, and I will presumably teach the same material again, which isn't very exciting because it's already very low level. But it's keeping me fed and will eventually get me money for my own place, and certainly beats doing punch down's on a wine machine fifteen hours a day and going home to a tent, which is what I was doing at this time one year ago.
Just like the doctor said, nothing worthwhile is easy, and if you want your dream to come true you have to take risks. I've already taken a million risks the past few years, but the most important one is still ahead. I hope to have a draft of my book ready to show a literary agent by December, when the new class cycle starts, or by Christmas at the latest. I believe in the book and myself, and its ability to entertain, inform and inspire whoever has the time and interest. I just have to keep writing and listening to what the world has to say along the way.
(quotes from Exploring English 6 by Tim Harris and Allan Rowe, published by Longman in NYC, 1997).
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