Josiah's English Class
Usually, Josiah gets picked up from his preschool before his classmates start their English class, but Friday I came to pick up the kids five minutes late. Josiah had already started his English class. Becky usually picks them up, so I wanted to enjoy my chance to see one of his classes in action. I stood at the doorway and watched.
The children sat in their chairs in a semi-circle around the teacher. The English teacher, a young Chinese lady, had placed several pictures of objects on the floor at her feet. She asked a student to come up and give her the card with bird, flower, or whatever else on it. Then she would ask another student.
This was obviously Josiah's forte--his special skill. On this activity, he knew all the answers, every time. I watched him in his seat his arm stretched up as far as it could go begging to be picked. The teacher obviously knew that this was no challenge to him. She was picking others around him who needed the class much more than him. He desperately cried out, "我! 我! 我!" (我 means me and is pronounced wa as in walk.) I was tickled to hear my son, the only white boy in the class, spitting out Chinese.
What happened next tickled me even more. While Josiah continued pleading, "我! 我! 我...", the teacher looked at him seriously. In her cute Chinese accent, she corrected him, "Me, Josiah, me." Josiah instantly switched languages straining to extend his arm even more.
How ironic! I thought. This American boy is being rebuked by his Chinese teacher for using Chinese instead of English. Josiah's is a mixed up world. But somehow four-year-olds are able to keep going, adapt, and excel.
Josiah was picked at last. He triumphantly handed her the correct card and returned to his seat. He turned around and looked up at me attempting to hold back a huge grin of satisfaction that was trying to force its way onto his lips. I didn't hesitate to show him my huge grin of satisfaction in him while throwing in a nod and a wink for good measure.
He was impressed with picking the right card. I was impressed with his Chinese.
The children sat in their chairs in a semi-circle around the teacher. The English teacher, a young Chinese lady, had placed several pictures of objects on the floor at her feet. She asked a student to come up and give her the card with bird, flower, or whatever else on it. Then she would ask another student.
This was obviously Josiah's forte--his special skill. On this activity, he knew all the answers, every time. I watched him in his seat his arm stretched up as far as it could go begging to be picked. The teacher obviously knew that this was no challenge to him. She was picking others around him who needed the class much more than him. He desperately cried out, "我! 我! 我!" (我 means me and is pronounced wa as in walk.) I was tickled to hear my son, the only white boy in the class, spitting out Chinese.
What happened next tickled me even more. While Josiah continued pleading, "我! 我! 我...", the teacher looked at him seriously. In her cute Chinese accent, she corrected him, "Me, Josiah, me." Josiah instantly switched languages straining to extend his arm even more.
How ironic! I thought. This American boy is being rebuked by his Chinese teacher for using Chinese instead of English. Josiah's is a mixed up world. But somehow four-year-olds are able to keep going, adapt, and excel.
Josiah was picked at last. He triumphantly handed her the correct card and returned to his seat. He turned around and looked up at me attempting to hold back a huge grin of satisfaction that was trying to force its way onto his lips. I didn't hesitate to show him my huge grin of satisfaction in him while throwing in a nod and a wink for good measure.
He was impressed with picking the right card. I was impressed with his Chinese.
posted by William Maricle | 12:05 PM
1 Comments:
I love this story! I recognized the character for "me" as I had to learn to write that one at Hui Jia. Josiah is getting so big! Amelia too, and wow - what a smile :)
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