My American English Lessons :: Education Language Learning Essays

Mezimenes sonorous singing rang clearly above the voices of her material bodymates. A, B, C, D . . . L-M-N-O-P . . . W, X, Y, and Z. Wednesday night diction classes all started the same dash we introduced ourselves and a live I am Mezimene. He is Francisco. All eighteen students came for the same reasons. instruction American English would allow them to pass the U.S. citizenship exam and interview, to advance at work, or to find better employment. Listening, speaking, and writing were our tasks. The women did very well they wise(p) to collaborate and worked together filling the gaps in their understanding of the reading or writing assignments. Most of the men struggled to stay awake as we worked into the latterly evening hours, lagging behind in their lessons-but Francisco managed to excel and always stayed on track. Tired, weary-the students trickled in before 610 pm, coming from work or taking care of children. They paid forty dollars for six months of classes, m onenessy in vested toward achieving their goals and dreams in America. I had never taught adults before, but embarked on the endeavor full of marvelous hope and fervor. My students came to America from Ethiopia, Somalia, Haiti, and Cape Verde. None were younger than forty and approximately were already in their sixties, but that, for me, was the charm of teaching the class nurturing the relish to find new opportunities through citizenship or assimilation into the American way of life. I saw the class as an avenue of passage, a beacon, a training ground, where the students could complete the difficult passage from being seen as divulgesiders to bonny full-fledged Americans, even of a hyphenated variety Ethiopian-American, Somali-American, Haitian-American, and Cape Verde-American. Finding out the goals and aspirations of my students was as important as marking down progress notes close to their reading and writing skills. I was not there to teach language in isolation, or phonics alone I f elt called to teach my class about American English in the real world, in their world. however there were those who disagreed with me the alphabet and kinesthetics practitioners, who touted the importance of writing the alphabet everywhere and over again at each class session and busy in physical activities that would reinforce classroom learning. The program director was one of these devotees, and I watched as she began instruction one week. The program director was a tall, bony woman with wild, frizzy hair and a smile that seemed to a greater extent snide than kind.