The One Big Tree
Before I moved to the US, I worked for the University of Hong Kong as a "demonstrator" in the School of Business. My job was to conduct group tutorials with students. It is akin to the work of Teaching Assistants in the US. Depends on the year, group sizes range from 8 to 16. I have had as many as 18 groups in one particular semester.
I earned myself a reputation for being tough. I always went over materials with students. If they had questions, I answered questions. If they didn't, I tested their knowledge with quizzes and impromptu problems. I often made up strange, silly scenarios so that the kids had a good laugh while they learnt to apply their knowledge. I wanted it to be fun for them and for me. By the end of the second week, I would have memorized the names of most of my students. Nobody could escape me. It was important to me that my students knew their stuff. A lot of their parents worked very hard to send them to university -- just like mine did with me. I wanted to make sure the kids get a solid education.
Occasionally, you encounter students who appreciate you. Like Teresa, who bursted into tears during class one time because she laughed too hard. Finally, she dashed out of the classroom to go to the bathroom to cry it out. Given her weakness. I often teased her deliberately to keep her on the edge. To my surprise, she told me before her graduation that I was the best teacher she had ever had. She said nobody ever cared about whether she learnt anything, except for me. My being demanding with students became the biggest empowerment to her. Because I believed in her, because I had expectations for her, she excelled.
Not all students took it well, though. A student, Josef, came to me at the beginning of the semester to announce his stance: "This class is only an elective for me. I take it because it looks good on my transcript. I have no plans of directing any effort towards it. I have heard of your reputations, but don't try it on me. I don't care. Don't waste your time." I was surprised that a student dared being so blatantly audacious. I continued to push him in class the way I normally do with everybody. He may choose to not learn, but I have a job to do. I ran the class, not him.
Demonstrator is an annual contractual position. At the end of the year, the University sends out a letter to demonstrators to ask if they are interested in renewing their contracts before the management decided on who to hire.
One year, with the letter in my hand, I was thinking, perhaps, I should just check the "No" box. It had been a rough year. I had multiple students like Josef. The rest of the class did not give me the impression that they cared much about their studies either. It felt like I was more concerned about their future than they did. It was a big waste of my time and energy. Why bother?
On my way to the bus stop, I ran into David, a current student and the little brother of a former student. "Are you okay, Meipo? You don't look so good. Something on your mind?" David was an unremarkable student who usually sat quietly in the back of the class. I was surprised that he was so observant. "Yeah. I need to inform the University if I am renewing my contract. I think it is time for me to go." I looked away while trying to squeeze out a smile.
"Why? Why are you leaving? Please stay," David pleaded. "It's a waste of time. I should go." I tried to end the conversation.
"I know I am not a very good student, Meipo, but I appreciate everything you did for us," David looked at me with watery puppy eyes. "Please don't give up on us. We need you." It was touching to hear these words from a student, but it was a little too late. I had decided. "It is very kind of you, but, no, you don't need me. You are graduating. Why do you care? Nobody cares about what I do."
David was tenacious, though. "Yes, I am graduating, but there are hundreds and thousands of me out there. They need a teacher like you. Think of yourself as a farmer: You sow ten seeds; not all ten may sprout. Let's say eight do. And then only five survive. At the end, only one grows into a big, tall tree. If you focus on the nine lost seeds, yes, you do very poorly. Yet, if you look at the one big tree, it provides shade for people, and it grows fruit for them to eat. It provides shelter for birds at night. Even though only one of your ten seeds grows, this one tree means a lot to the community. Don't go, Meipo. Please give it another chance." Looking at David, I was speechless.
The following week, I handed in my letter of intention. I checked the "Yes" box. I renewed my contract for another year. It was all for David -- my not very remarkable student.
I earned myself a reputation for being tough. I always went over materials with students. If they had questions, I answered questions. If they didn't, I tested their knowledge with quizzes and impromptu problems. I often made up strange, silly scenarios so that the kids had a good laugh while they learnt to apply their knowledge. I wanted it to be fun for them and for me. By the end of the second week, I would have memorized the names of most of my students. Nobody could escape me. It was important to me that my students knew their stuff. A lot of their parents worked very hard to send them to university -- just like mine did with me. I wanted to make sure the kids get a solid education.
Occasionally, you encounter students who appreciate you. Like Teresa, who bursted into tears during class one time because she laughed too hard. Finally, she dashed out of the classroom to go to the bathroom to cry it out. Given her weakness. I often teased her deliberately to keep her on the edge. To my surprise, she told me before her graduation that I was the best teacher she had ever had. She said nobody ever cared about whether she learnt anything, except for me. My being demanding with students became the biggest empowerment to her. Because I believed in her, because I had expectations for her, she excelled.
Not all students took it well, though. A student, Josef, came to me at the beginning of the semester to announce his stance: "This class is only an elective for me. I take it because it looks good on my transcript. I have no plans of directing any effort towards it. I have heard of your reputations, but don't try it on me. I don't care. Don't waste your time." I was surprised that a student dared being so blatantly audacious. I continued to push him in class the way I normally do with everybody. He may choose to not learn, but I have a job to do. I ran the class, not him.
Demonstrator is an annual contractual position. At the end of the year, the University sends out a letter to demonstrators to ask if they are interested in renewing their contracts before the management decided on who to hire.
One year, with the letter in my hand, I was thinking, perhaps, I should just check the "No" box. It had been a rough year. I had multiple students like Josef. The rest of the class did not give me the impression that they cared much about their studies either. It felt like I was more concerned about their future than they did. It was a big waste of my time and energy. Why bother?
On my way to the bus stop, I ran into David, a current student and the little brother of a former student. "Are you okay, Meipo? You don't look so good. Something on your mind?" David was an unremarkable student who usually sat quietly in the back of the class. I was surprised that he was so observant. "Yeah. I need to inform the University if I am renewing my contract. I think it is time for me to go." I looked away while trying to squeeze out a smile.
"Why? Why are you leaving? Please stay," David pleaded. "It's a waste of time. I should go." I tried to end the conversation.
"I know I am not a very good student, Meipo, but I appreciate everything you did for us," David looked at me with watery puppy eyes. "Please don't give up on us. We need you." It was touching to hear these words from a student, but it was a little too late. I had decided. "It is very kind of you, but, no, you don't need me. You are graduating. Why do you care? Nobody cares about what I do."
David was tenacious, though. "Yes, I am graduating, but there are hundreds and thousands of me out there. They need a teacher like you. Think of yourself as a farmer: You sow ten seeds; not all ten may sprout. Let's say eight do. And then only five survive. At the end, only one grows into a big, tall tree. If you focus on the nine lost seeds, yes, you do very poorly. Yet, if you look at the one big tree, it provides shade for people, and it grows fruit for them to eat. It provides shelter for birds at night. Even though only one of your ten seeds grows, this one tree means a lot to the community. Don't go, Meipo. Please give it another chance." Looking at David, I was speechless.
The following week, I handed in my letter of intention. I checked the "Yes" box. I renewed my contract for another year. It was all for David -- my not very remarkable student.
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