This house believes that debate is a valuable teaching/learning tool.

I have spent most of my time and energy since January preparing Tajik students to debate in English. 

I must first admit that I used to be prejudiced against debaters. Though I enjoyed debates as a class activity - to learn about the creation of Israel, for example - I am generally conflict-adverse, and it seemed that debate emphasized conflict, and seemed to feature too much of that teenage-male certainty that they are right about everything.

I am glad to report that I have changed my views. I not only think that debate is a great tool to use in a classroom, but also in extracurricular practice and competition. In preparing my students - both school-age and university - I have realized that the tools of a good debater are important tools for success in other arenas as well.  When a friend and I gave a presentation about using debate during our conference in Nepal, we started by talking about the various reasons we chose to start debate clubs. 

Students first came in order to practice English speaking skills. They desperately want practice speaking in English and they don't get that in their school or university English classes. I have had the pleasure of seeing a few of my debaters turn from shy, stuttering speakers who could hardly continue for 30 seconds into confident first speakers who can present their ideas for 6 minutes (plus three minutes answering questions). Obviously this involves not only English language skills but also the art of public speaking. For one girl who would only look at the floor, I moved around an American flag so she would look up (even if not at our faces). The group I have been working with has a ways to go, but is much more confident. 

Debating is an accessible way to approach controversial subjects, and to practice critical thinking. In the words of the International Debate Education Association, whose website we plunder extensively for ideas, 

Debate is an essential tool for developing and maintaining democracy and open societies. More than a mere verbal or performance skill, debate embodies the ideals of reasoned argument, tolerance for diverging points of view, and rigorous self-examination.  

I have seen my patience rewarded as my students have slowly moved towards these ideals. Students don't often get a chance to express their own opinions in the educational system here. We have moved from circular, non-arguments like "it is good because it is the law" or "because it is" to actual arguments in defense of a position that they may not agree with. I banned the use of the phrases "right" and "wrong" in order to move towards logical reasoning. We worked through the ideas that you are not expressing your own opinions and it is not personal - it is about ideas, and how well they are expressed. I think some of them finally understood this in our first competition when a team with better English skills lost to one with much better arguments.  I have repeated many times that debate is about respect: respecting your opponents.

As someone who teaches writing it is also satisfying to see that those same debating skills are ones that students could apply to writing: a clear introduction, outline, evidence and examples, and conclusion. They must do research. They must plan ahead. These are also foreign skills for most of them, and I love to see that it is the same process of thinking that will serve them well in writing.

Now that we have prepared and participated in two tournaments [see many more photos from the first tournament and photos from the second tournament], it is also heart-warming to see the camaraderie and friendship that have built up between students of different ages. The winners of the first tournament were a woman in her mid-20s who graduated from university with a law degree, a fourth-year university student in telecommunications, and an 11th-grade boy. At the second tournament, I inadvertently become a matchmaker in putting together the members of one of the teams.

I enjoyed organizing the tournaments; I remembered that I like producing events, and my experience producing theater shows at Yale served me well.  But I still don't like conflict, and I don't like judging. I would much rather guide the preparation process. I care too much to be a passive audience member; I was tense watching my students and waiting to see who won (and I was a bit crushed when a group lost that I thought should have won). We were lucky enough to have guest judges who would be impartial. As Sarah pointed out, one of the coolest things about these competitions is that they were fair, as opposed to many competitions here, which everyone knows are rigged because of a relative or where you are from or some other factor. 

The students were extra-excited at the second competition because the winning debaters would get the opportunity to debate in Dushanbe. My Dushanbe counterpart has been organizing a National English-language Debate tournament there, and flurries of emails have been flying back and forth about every aspect of the tournament. It is finally happening this coming weekend, and Sarah and I will go with the debaters to help manage and judge the three-day tournament. 

Also exciting, but less tangible and looking less likely, is that we have the opportunity to send some high school students to the Asia Youth Forum, a two-week debate tournament/seminar for school students all over Asia, which is taking place in Kyrgyzstan this year, near Lake Issyk-kul. This would be an amazing opportunity to learn infinitely more than I could ever teach about debate and meet peers from dozens of countries. But the scholarship process has left us in the dark, and it is still unclear what will happen.

More than the competitions, though, training these students has given me the opportunity to spend more time with them. I have gotten to see them think and talk and worry and then go out to lunch with some of them and talk more outside of the confines of debate. I am excited to meet more debaters in Dushanbe this weekend, but for me this national tournament is less important than the work that we have already done in Khujand. I am proud of all of the debaters I have been working with.

More information about training a debate team and many sample debates at idebate.org.

Mice

Mice are usually good at hiding, and yet recently they have been scurrying their way into my life. Not live ones, luckily; though I do think they can be cute, I had most of my sympathy driven out of my vegetarian heart when part of my job at summer camp was to be "Mousketeer" and set traps to catch the rodents that ate holes in our clothes and threatened the kitchen. I do not welcome them inside, and our apartment here has proven rodent-proof. That does not mean that my heart is hardened to fictional mice.

I have started a new "Reading Club" at the American Corner: I inherited one when I first arrived that became frustrating, since I had to figure out what to read and how much to print since new people would come every time and I wouldn't know how many and what level they would be. So I canceled it, since that is the wonderful prerogative of my position. But at the conference in Nepal, our main presenter emphasized that she believes that reading aloud helps students at all levels. New research supports reading aloud to ESL/EFL students because they can listen to correct pronunciation, not worry about comprehending every word, and understand more than when they try to read aloud themselves (I know I experience this: when I read aloud in a foreign language, I focus on words and my brain cannot also focus on meaning; I have to either read it quietly before or after). I seized upon this suggestion, and decided it could stand on its own. Read-aloud story time in libraries is a time-honored American Library Tradition. And the American Corner is in a Library. And we are all about teaching American Traditions. Most importantly, I really enjoy reading aloud.

I looked through our collection of lower-level books, and considered something like Old Yeller or Sarah Plain and Tall, but settled on The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo. It is a recent children's classic and winner of the Newbery Medal in 2004. I was a little older than its target demographic when it was published, but my mother bought it for my younger brother, and I was taken by the hardcover's soft-pastel drawing and the pages' deckled edges, and quickly swallowed the story of the mouse who falls in love with a human princess. I didn't really remember the plot when I picked it off the shelf at the American Corner for consideration, but its fate was sealed when I found a PDF teachers' guide that advertised using it in a class for ESL students, as well as parents' reviews that said it seemed to be written as a read-aloud novel. Participants at the American Corner have now learned the words "scurry" and "despair." [If you would like to learn a new word, mouse in Tajiki is муш (mush), which is comfortingly close to English, but a bit cuter-sounding.] They are still figuring out the graphic organizers I have given them (they didn't seem to want to draw). But I am excited to reach the second section next week, when we learn that the king has banished soup from the kingdom due to a series of events involving a rat. There is true despair in the kingdom over this - and there would be here, too, because soup is an important staple of the Tajik diet (I know a Tajik girl who went to the U.S. for university and wrote home asking for soup recipes to make in the dorm kitchen because she was homesick for soup and couldn't find any).

I took several books from the shelves of the American Corner; one night I read The Tale of Desperaux in bed, and the next I read Maus, Art Spiegelman's graphic novel about the Holocaust. Both have careful illustrations, but the latter took my breath away from darkness rather than light. I had always wanted to read it and was recently reminded of its existence when the ELF in Almaty told me she is using it in her university English classes. So it caught my eye when I saw it here. We have a fairly random collection of books that are mostly too advanced or too specialized for most of the people who come to the American Corner, like 400-page biographies of Benjamin Franklin, or to a book by Julia Alvarez co-written with her husband Bill Eichner. 

But this week Christmas came in the form of hundreds of new books - from Scholastic! It was like book orders in middle school, only many times better - and many times heavier. Several people waited for the truck on Monday, but by the time it arrived there were only five of us left, and it took over two hours to carry all of the them up to the fourth floor of the library in the dark. I carried books, and the boys paired off to carry the new shelves and tables. We still don't exactly know what's in all of the boxes, since the embassy ordered them, but we understand that they are easy books more appropriate for people just learning English, and I cannot wait to find out (maybe Stuart Little is there?). We have managed to investigate the one large box of DVDs, which included many good movies, but I was most excited about An American Tail.

Sarah and I have been talking about showing this movie since September, when we realized that it would be a great way to discuss what it means to be an immigrant and temper the mania for visa requests. It is about the trials of a Jewish-Russian immigrant family to New York in 1885, from getting separated from family to being swindled by rats who take advantage of recent arrivals. And, yes, these characters are also mice. (Wikipedia informed me that Art Spiegelman thought director Stephen Spielberg plagiarized his idea, but decided not to sue.) Before arriving, the family is certain that "There are no cats in America/ and the streets are paved with cheese!", but, of course, there are cats in America. Spielberg makes our hero Fievel Mousekewitz heart-breakingly cute, especially when he and his sister sing "Somewhere Out There." Previewing the movie at home, I was surprised to realize what a little kid Fievel is; I remembered him as my age - which shows that I last watched it when I was about 8. When I showed it yesterday people weren't ready to talk about it, but they did say they enjoyed it - and they stayed until the end, which often doesn't happen when we show movies. 

I went home with another one of the new DVDs, since I have a cold and needed something to curl up with alongside my honey-and-lemon 'tea'. It shockingly doesn't feature mice: You've Got Mail instead has everything comforting that doesn't require thought: bookstores, Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks, and a happy ending.

Mouse update 26 Jan: To keep the theme going, during our Burns Night I read his "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785." I love the image of the him stooping to talk to the mouse - though we also speculated that perhaps his tendency to stop and write a poem instead of continuing to plough his field might have contributed to his failure as a farmer.

Walking Advertisement

I am fairly certain that there is a flashing neon sight above my head that says: "Visa here!" Or maybe it says, "All visa questions answered!" Or perhaps, to some young men, "Marry to go to U.S.!" I'm not positive because I, of course, cannot see this sign; when it was installed, it was made visible only to some Tajiks. At the end of a long day, the desperation this sign invites can become grating, and Americans complain to one another about the feeling that people are constantly accosting us.

Mostly, though, I am sympathetic. I wish that I could do more, but the truth is that I have no power with the consular office. And I don't know that much about U.S. visas having never had to get one. The most I can do is help people understand the U.S. websites that explain visa regulations.

A different question often posed to me is, "Can I join your TOEFL course?" It hasn't started yet, so I say "Yes, come, and we will discuss who will be in the class." At the moment I am terrified because there are so many people signed up, and I need to figure out a fair system of who can be in the class - and turning the rest away. I was telling to the American Corner coordinator that though I want to help the students, I just can't make everyone happy - and I will have to turn some away - if they can't come at that time we can't change the time, it is just be too bad for them - we'll have another class start in the spring - and she said, "You sound like a counselor officer." And that was how I realized that it is the same concern and the same question: "How can you help me get to the United States? This is very important to me, and you are the best hope I have come across."

For them, that is why I am here: to help them with their English so that they have a better chance of winning scholarships and spots in exchange programs and getting to visit or stay in the United States. Or so that they can get better jobs here, as interpreters or as local staff in international organizations like the U.N. or foreign embassies. The stakes are higher than in a standard high school Spanish class in the United States, when no one really cares about learning the language - not the way that people here want to learn English.

And I can help them. Some days that is suffocating and other days it is empowering. Mostly I remain somewhere in between, with a sense of responsibility to do my best by my students. Usually I feel this responsibility more heavily than my sense of responsibility to the U.S. Embassy or the U.S. State Department or the U.S. taxpayers who are paying for my grant stipend. I am lucky that the two loyalties do not conflict in my job description, but I can see more and more clearly how my presence is viewed differently by different people. That flashing neon sign above my head is dimmer to some, and has different words for different people. I can try with writing and speaking, but I don't think I can fully control what the sign says to you.