Ratna Konka is a high school math teacher at Desert Christian High School here in Tucson. In addition to being a teacher, she is a wife and mother. Since her immigration to the United States a few years ago she has taught in two other schools, both public: a high school and a middle school located elsewhere in Arizona.
In viewing her pre-calculus class recently, it is apparent that she is as at ease with her students as she is competent in her subject matter knowledge. The session was lively, highly engaging, made use of current technology, and students got all their questions answered.
Although my purpose in visiting her classroom was professional in nature, I couldn’t resist asking a question often posed to non-native teachers. “How are students in the U.S. different from the students you taught in India?” I queried.
Pausing to gaze out the window of her classroom on to the pleasant Desert campus, she answered thoughtfully. “Well, I would not say that the students at this school are much different from Indian students in the things that matter most to a teacher. They are serious about their education and very respectful to the teacher. The difference is between these students and the students I taught in public school.” She went on to recount some of the difficulties she faced in two different non-Tucson public schools. Most troubling was her assertion that in a typical fifty minute period, she felt fortunate to get in five to ten minutes of real teaching. Student disruptions, bureaucratic red tape, and a general indifference to learning were chief among her frustrations in those schools. She affirmed how grateful she is to be at Desert Christian, and hopes to make it a long term place of service.
What struck me here is how clearly a stranger to our culture sees the difference between the choices Americans make for their children’s schooling. It would seem that Americans (and curiously, most Christian Americans) routinely pass up great educational opportunities (at least sane educational opportunities) to settle for putting their children in classrooms that make “Welcome Back, Kotter” look like a model of efficiency, erudition, and propriety.
Ratna sees it. Why don’t we?
In viewing her pre-calculus class recently, it is apparent that she is as at ease with her students as she is competent in her subject matter knowledge. The session was lively, highly engaging, made use of current technology, and students got all their questions answered.
Although my purpose in visiting her classroom was professional in nature, I couldn’t resist asking a question often posed to non-native teachers. “How are students in the U.S. different from the students you taught in India?” I queried.
Pausing to gaze out the window of her classroom on to the pleasant Desert campus, she answered thoughtfully. “Well, I would not say that the students at this school are much different from Indian students in the things that matter most to a teacher. They are serious about their education and very respectful to the teacher. The difference is between these students and the students I taught in public school.” She went on to recount some of the difficulties she faced in two different non-Tucson public schools. Most troubling was her assertion that in a typical fifty minute period, she felt fortunate to get in five to ten minutes of real teaching. Student disruptions, bureaucratic red tape, and a general indifference to learning were chief among her frustrations in those schools. She affirmed how grateful she is to be at Desert Christian, and hopes to make it a long term place of service.
What struck me here is how clearly a stranger to our culture sees the difference between the choices Americans make for their children’s schooling. It would seem that Americans (and curiously, most Christian Americans) routinely pass up great educational opportunities (at least sane educational opportunities) to settle for putting their children in classrooms that make “Welcome Back, Kotter” look like a model of efficiency, erudition, and propriety.
Ratna sees it. Why don’t we?
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