Teach What You Don't Know--Repost
September 16, 2018
English and math go together like love and marriage, or should I say like sex and marriage. What I mean to say is they don't go together at all. They say geniuses can't spell, but nowhere does it say that geniuses don't remember their multiplication tables. I got a tutoring/teaching job at a learning center where I will primarily be teaching English, and a little math. What???? A little math is too much math in my book.
So let's talk about the interview: First, a random woman wearing a very green, very lacy dress, which I think is cool, hands me a paper. "We will be giving you a sample SAT test," she says. I started to shake inside a bit. I'm not good at tests, I've never been good at multiple-choice questions. They are all trick questions and screw them. I decide I'm pretty sure I'm not getting this job. So I start to read the reading passages, it's reading comprehension and I think I have a handle on most questions except the actual trick questions. Don't even deny that they put tricks in there so people will fail.
Let's just say I was happy it wasn't a vocabulary or grammar test. I know I’m an English professor and everything, but there are words I can’t spell. Words I’ve never heard of. And sentences where I could not tell you where the comma goes. I mean a pause is a pause is a pause. Pause.
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on
I finish the test before they assume I will finish and finally I step outside the room and ask what I should do next. This very nice looking Asian man hands me a bunch of papers. I see numbers all over the papers. I start to sweat a little bit. I wanted to tell the man, that Asian to fellow Asian, I know it may be hard for you to grasp, but I really don't know any math.
I’m an English major and they made me take the math portion of the SAT! I am horrible at standardized tests and I could not for the life of me remember what 7 multiplied by 8 is! I still don’t know. I could look it up but the rebel in me doesn’t want to know. I had to do long division people, that’s when 7 times 8 came up! I had to multiply In order to divide. Imagine the irony! Of course, I see it as ironic, that’s why I study literature!
I had to add, subtract, multiply, and divide fractions that don’t have a common denominator! Where is the humanity in that? It clearly says on my resume: English Degrees Only! I came there to show off my stellar knowledge of the language that the people who oppressed my mother country forced my mother and father to learn so they could come to America and I could sit here and write this story.
Notice it’s in English.
While in the middle of the math test, I considered getting up and telling the guy that I cannot do this. However, the better part of me kept going, literally assuming I was definitely not getting this job. I gave the man at the job interview my test back, kind of looking sullen. He later said I did fine. Either he’s a Liar or I’m— no, he’s a liar. He promised any math would be for very small children, like arithmetic. As if I could handle that.
My father taught me negative numbers when I was like eight. It was only when I got to college and opened a bank account that I really understood what he was talking about. He taught me that and sent me to college so I would use math to get a job! It finally worked!
The catch is the Asian man hired me! Me, the girl who when doing a test tutoring with a student while they observed me and I tripped up and didn’t know what two words meant. I mean do you know what periodontal means? C’mon. They taught me how to pretend like I know. The woman in the green dress was a math major and showed me some tricks.
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on
I went to an Ivy League grad school. I don’t say that to brag, I say this to highlight the fact that I’m not special. Our president went to an Ivy League grad school, I think that says it all. As he once bragged, “I know words, I have the best words!”
I will be insanely honest, I’m not sure what I learned at Columbia University. I had one fantastic writing professor but he’s not the reason I succeeded. The reason I can creatively write is because I have it in me. Artists and writers don’t need to go to school. However, if you happen to be an insane writer, having the stamp of a good school on your forehead makes people take you more seriously. That’s it. I can get a job because of my degree. Not all artists and writers can say that.
Unfortunately, in this world, it is sometimes required that writers have a day job so they can eat. Even though eating is overrated and I do too much of it, I have the ability to somewhat sustain myself.
Musicians, artists, writers, we just want to do the art, all it takes is practice to get better, not art school. Some of us, like me, enjoy teaching the art, I teach the art of writing. I’m lucky I like it, many in my profession don’t.
I’m lucky I have the means to survive because let me tell you, no one's buying this blog yet. I haven’t sold anything and I’m not putting my soul for sale by writing crappy romance novels or women’s porn. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just not that person.
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on
I am the person who may put advertisements on this very website. Do you think that would be being a slave to the man? Selling out? As we say in Feminism, you can't use the master's tools to get out of his house.
I got to get out of this house, my parent's house to be exact. I don't really know the math behind this, but I suspect that statistically in other countries many people live with their parents and it is not looked down upon. I can't write my way out of this house, so I have to get a solid job as a professor at a good university.
I can do that, I mean I've done a lot of things I thought I could not do. I could possibly publish a book too.
All these things are great and wonderful, but some days all I want to do is sit here in front of this keyboard and spill out everything in my head and my heart. I'm lucky I found a way to con people into reading my innermost thoughts. I literally won't write in a diary because I am afraid someone might read it and get to know my real thoughts, but I am on the other hand willing to let it all hang out on the Interwebs.
The irony.
The agony and the ecstasy.
I'm telling you, it doesn't get harder or better than this.
nina
I have been featured once again in a new blog called the Corona Chronicles...click here