Day 5: Sorry for Party Rocking

Hello everyone! I've chosen to post a dual update, so I'll have a separate post about Saturday too. And...some student work to show you! But I don't want to spoil you all at once, so I'll have to parcel out one thing at a time...

-What happened to Sunday and Monday?

So much has gone on, and I'm under an imminent deadline, so my short explanation is: it's way too long to put into one post. Maybe even two or four posts. I'm not even sure Saturday is one post or two at this point.

I miss the Tango, so having a cat come and beg for food was almost nostalgic.

On Friday, I did my usual teaching. The students finished their projects (!!). I know it seems like they are progressing very slowly, but I have two goals: 1) to not disrupt their normal curriculum; and 2) to get them to think creatively, no matter how little they know. It doesn't take many words in a language to express oneself, no matter what you think. You're a function of your preferences and what you think is important. I also got to hand back papers. I had some serious dread about this since I had to call on students by name, and some of them have names like 'Sreynit' and 'Theung.' But, to be fair, this isn't Korea where all the students have names that are composites of two syllables, like 'Mi-ju' and 'Ju-yeong,' or Thailand where common names are so long that you'll need a Lonely Planet guide to take them in. Names like 'Davin' and 'Sophea' are fairly easy, no matter who you are.

I noticed that my issue some of the time was that I was putting the accent in the wrong place--that is to say, stressing the wrong part of the name--so 'Davin' is 'Dah-VIHN' whereas I think most native English-speakers would try 'DAV-in.' Khmer also has a problem with 'h,' which does not form a traditional 'ph' or 'th' sound. Equally confusing is 'R,' which is pronounced like 'ur' although the letter r usually sits in between English 'r' and 'l' and feeds the Asian stereotype of replacing one with the other. You say 'ra' while dropping your jaw and 'la' with your tongue up close to the curvature of the mouth; 'r' is the same sound, but your tongue moves straight out towards your teeth, kind of like a French 'r' but without the violent expulsion of air that accompanies a French 'r.'

Of course, my solution to knowing barely any Khmer thus far has been to widen my eyes and smile (automatic reaction, not fake). Since I came here, I've learned how to say 'two,' 'three,' and 'cilantro.' (NO, REALLY). So, add that to a very basic list of things, and...that's it. I feel embarrassed, but I haven't had any time to work on it since coming here given what else I've been up to.

Anyway, there's something viscerally wonderful about knowing how to say the names of one's students. Because they're already acclimated to the school year, there just wasn't any opportunity to do long introductions, and it wasn't really necessary. Classroom management and discipline, even by my co-teacher, is done by group, not by individual. Even calling on students is handled the same way. Plus, there's a focus on labels and functions, not on names, caused (probably) by the idea that Khmer names are difficult for foreigners. I had to learn my co-teacher's name by osmosis, because neither the director nor she chose to introduce herself that way. Yet, of course, everyone knows my name. Even if they're not pronouncing it correctly. Irony!*

Once I finish my graduate school work, I'm looking forward to busting out the world's worst Khmer and making everyone laugh. Maybe tonight I'll drag my book downstairs and question the hotel staff to death, because MWAHAHA they can't leave the hotel...

*On a side note about irony, my personal tuk-tuk driver, Mr. Scorpio, was shocked to learn on Saturday that I'm  not from the UK. I have an explanation for this: 1) I'm not in a country that cares very much for the letter 'r'; 2) When a majority of your conversations are conducted from a distance of four feet in heavy traffic or on the back of a moto, it's hard to be heard unless you enunciate. But you'll see actors and actresses betraying their roots when they shout or broadcast all the time, because it's hard to tap into your recesses and project like that without having an accent. So great, the one place I can unconsciously use the accent that I grew up with is in a country on the other side of the globe from my hometown. Also, I think being Korean and American at the same time confuses everyone here, though they certainly take it is stride and, unlike all the questioning I got in Korea, do understand the concept of 'adoption,' which prevents me in turn from having to masquerade as Japanese. Sometimes, of course, I don't offer that detail, and I imagine that in the other person's head they are imagining my perfectly happy, smiling, Korean-looking family smiling and looking happy and...you know what? I'm not going to ruin that for them.