I had my first clinical observation today; this is when an experienced teacher listens in on a private lesson and grades an instructor on his or her achievement of a detailed set of objectives. We tried to do it yesterday but failed because of technical problems, and then again earlier this morning because of technical problems on the learner's end - and then succeeded. Really succeeded, with a client who terrifies me with her efficiency and no-nonsense attitude. Refuses to divulge personal information. Grammar exercises and discussions only, with contextually-related vocabulary that I have to come up with on the fly.
And it went so beautifully! So, I'm not making a million bucks. But others have judged me to be a good teacher, and I feel like I'm finally earning money instead of just making it [appear out of nowhere]. Maybe some people would like the latter, but I much prefer the former. Maybe I'm not directly applying the knowledge I learned in grad school or doing policy analyses for the government - or more realistically, sitting in a cubicle and goldbricking so that my co-workers don't have to move at my naturally quick pace. But every hour I spend doing this job, I'm entertained and challenged. I have to be in control at all times, an excellent communicator, and a grammarian capable of astutely and graciously correcting the use of extremely technical language by people with multiple PhDs. Every hour flies by, and I feel thrilled when I close a successful lesson.
If I do this for any period of time, I will benefit in a whole host of ways. I'm already benefiting. I think I dismiss the usefulness of this work and the demand for it, and I do it because I was socialized to want more power, more money, more underlings. Fancier baubles on my shinier desk. Uh. I think I'd rather have fun meeting people from around the world and helping them communicate better. For now.
R and I had a remarkable 1.5-hour lesson this afternoon - chacha, samba and waltz. Pierre said a really great thing to me that I want to remember. I was samba-ing and completely screwed up, but managed to invent a little spin and a flourish and recover in time for the next set of voltas. I was laughing and apologizing afterward, but Pierre said to me in some seriousness, "Dancing well - and living well - is not about making no mistakes... It's about recovering from them with STYLE."
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