It
was a boiling hot summer here in Hong Kong,
nothing new about that, and I asked
for a student response, and selected the hand that waved the most
agressively, that of
an eight year girl called Sherry
Anne, who was so enthusiastic about my classes she almost uplifted
herself from her hard
wooden seat.
No,
I said reluctant to dampen such
liveliness. Her answer was not even half the way there.
Ten
or fifteen mintes later, I gave her a second
chance, as she seemed to be a
natural born leader, tossing her head around as though she was the
smartest in the class.
Again,
she gave a resoundingly wrong answer.
I
was becoming interested in her, for
her attitude was unchastened by repeated defeat. She looked about as though to say,
I am relating to Teacher and
English, and it is great!
She
seemed to be a fish out of not only ESL waters,
she seemed to be disconnected from
Chinese student culture as well, with no shyness, modesty, or shame at
repeated public
failing.
I
really liked her.
I
was not surprised with only one or two students trying sometimes
to answer that I would give her a third chance and again she gave a wrong answer.
We
were not doing physics, the tests were not hard.
She
was even slightly plump, bouncy, and yes, I suspected she
came from a home that valued love
for children, a home that gave her the zeal to keep bouncing back from
defeat.
Her
personality type as a student was foreign to me, she craved
my approval yet had no inclination for English grammar at all.
I
could imagine her doing well in many other fields of endeavour
where warmth, confidence, and
determination mattered more than adherence to exact rules, though in the
corporate and academic
climate of today, would others see what a special girl this was, to inspire friendship
with other students instead
of jeering, a tribute in writing from her teacher rather than thoughtless dismissal.
Little
Hong Kong Girl, wherever you may be, you helped to brighten
our class, and gave me a lot to think about as a teacher.
