This may come off as some kind of summoning of success, or that of a serendipitous moment where the thing you are doing begets the thing you want. This is not about confusing outcome for result.
Post hoc ergo propter hoc is Latin for "after this, therefore because of this." A hopeful example of this is that you became a happy successful teacher that all the students love because you read this post.
Hi, my name is Danyk. I help Japanese students kick-ass in creative communication. I used to say I’m an EFL teacher, but teaching English as a foreign language can set you up for disappointment if you think your goal is to teach it and the students to study it. Language is fluid, as are the moments you have to experience it. In the after-school walk-in center I set up at the Junior High School where I teach, students can come and go as they please. I’m there to offer them the opportunity to spend however much time they have with a foreign speaker (usually me) thereby diminishing their fear to speak English in future circumstances. Only in this moment do I have their attention.
In a typical EFL classroom, you have a lesson to teach, homework to assign, group projects to complete, and everything must be graded. Not so, in the Global Lounge. In a lot of ways, I’ve designed this in the spirit of David Eggers’s 826 Valencia, and the Brooklyn Super Hero Supply Co. But whereas those venues are publicly funded, and powered by volunteers who offer their time to offer their help to students from across the city, our Lounge operates within the school grounds for the students of our school. The Global Lounge is a place for students to learn new ideas like “hang out,” “be creative,” and “learn through play.”
Yesterday, was like any other day. The students were running down the hall after their homeroom class let out for the day. Some were returning books to the library, some were meeting friends before heading off to archery club together.
Me? I arrived thirty minutes before the last bell to set up the lounge and sat at my desk, beyond the table of games, and shelves of graded readers. I wanted to do something other than look at my smartphone to alleviate the boredom and uncertainty. I reached for pen and paper. The blank page doesn’t scare me though I do know some that suffer from blank page syndrome. I told myself, “I will doodle until they arrive,” and then set down to calm the mind by doing something constructive like write this out in block letters with free hand.
By the time I got to the word “arrive,” that is exactly what happened. Two first-year junior high students came in for the first time to ask, “what is this room for?” They were trying to glean clues from the scribbles on the wall, and the mountain of games near the entrance. They suspected there must be some catch, that this was a lure to give up more than they were able. I assured them that they could stay as long as they want, or as little as five minutes and play games until it was time to leave.
There is a moment I live for, and that is to see the fear leave the body when they realise it is possible for schools to house fun safe spaces for play and discovery. I’m still amazed that I’ve gotten to do this for as long as I have. Depending on the school calendar, this space is usually open three days a week. It is mostly the first year students who discover it, and have the most time to spend here, but it doesn’t matter. Those that come, arrive with a spirit of intent to laugh and enjoy their time. And that is all I need to build up magic moments of communication in which students practice skills and language that express best what they are saying/feeling.
I hope more schools get to include spaces like this. But this message isn’t an appeal to Educational boards, so must as it is a message to the teachers that find the wait for students unbearable. They should, in that moment of anxiety and self-judgement, make an attempt to regress to childhood in a safe mind space where you get to draw badly, until you draw better, all the while noting what improvements could be made, and then finding that they work, share them. Whether it’s with your substack peers, or the students that walk in and have no idea what to do, present them with a clean slate and tell them it’s ok to get messy. And if they don’t know how, show them what you just did. Bonus points if they laugh at your bad attempts. You have just given them something to improve upon. Most students will take you up on the offer. Results will be something to talk about. Questions will arise. Spirits will grow in the body and exit as chortles, squeals, or peals of laughter. Everybody wins.
The sum-up:
Do NOT reach for your phone looking for algorithmic awe to suck your time away.
See a blank piece of paper as a pool to dive into. Can’t swim? It’s a sandy wet beach and you have a stick to design something with until the next wave smoothes it out again.
Ask others how much time they have to hang. Work with the constraints. Limit the colour pens they can use, or the space they have to draw within.
Read books that will help you generate playful ideas. Recently, I’m reading We Need Your Art by Amie McNee
