My Hard Day’s Night

On my first day of mentorship, I was introduced to the curriculum, routines and focus of the class.  Essentially, the class is like an AP class where the curriculum revolves around “the test” or in the citizenship class’s case, filling out the N400 application form and passing the interview.

Citizenship applicants must know American history, government structure, and of course, the English language. There are 100 possible history questions that can be asked during the interview and the goal is to get at least 10. In answering, the applicant’s English writing and speaking skills will be evaluated with the vital purpose of ensuring that the person does apply the proper usage of the English language.

As an avid learner, veteran AP test taker and a sympathetic stranger, I was thrilled to help. But I didn’t know how to connect with students. How does a teenager tell an adult stranger that he’s doing something wrong?

 I find it awkward for many reasons. I was raised to submit to my elders. This cultural artifact is so engraved in my personality that I don’t know how to correct one of the students. To me, it is a little rude. I am not in equal footing with the students in terms of age and culture. How do I tell them to read a passage for me? Or say that word so and so is pronounced as so and so? Yet, I still asked them to read a passage for me and pronounce the word so and so as so and so.  It was painful. To make it worse, I still don’t know their names and it’s very much comforting that I’m not really good with names.

The byproduct of this inner turmoil is insecurity. It feels like I can ask them to do something but they can just ignore it. Why? Because I’m not the real teacher and I’m just a kid. Plus, they’re not getting their money’s worth by not having Martha as much. It’s like the sad lonely faith of a substitute teacher.

However, this is the first day and I do overanalyze.