NO GOOD MARK?
Mrs. Neiman, a headteacher at Peter’s new school, was crazy about progressive methods of teaching. Tall and slim, she looked nice in her fifties, with a short haircut that suited her narrow, long-cheekbone face. Black knee-length skirt and waist-fitted jacket with a white shirt underneath left a very positive impression on people. She adored Pestalozzi and Makarenko and liked to implement some of their methods at this school. Unfortunately, Peter turned out to be the first she saw on her way from the teachers’ Monday afternoon meeting, which she finished supposedly in a very good mood.
‘Oh, there you are, Peter!’ she exclaimed loudly as if she’s been searching for him since early morning. Peter stopped in the middle of the corridor with a humble smile. ‘It’s you who I need. That’s great. Your English is perfect. Ha-ha-ha!’ She laughed at her joke. ‘It can’t be bad, of course. Next week we are planning to arrange two English lessons in the fourth forms, but without teachers. Do I make myself clear?’ She paused waiting for his reply. Peter nodded. ‘Great. That’s settled. You’ll go to ‘A’ form. The theme is up to you. Think about something easy to understand. They can’t speak as fluently as your classmates yet. Give them a chance and don’t forget to smile. OK?’ Mrs. Neiman smiled, gave a broad grin and left him for her own duties. Peter exhaled with relief. It was neither good nor bad. He was afraid of her asking him for brushing up her nephew’s English as it was two months ago. The guy was very naughty and spoilt by his mother. He considered Peter as a new friend bought by his parents for fun.
When the day came, Peter was more or less ready for the lesson. He decided to use his father’s advice he used to follow in his business: if you do not know your partner, ask him as many questions as you can and try to sound sincere. You must question about what you are really interested in and listen very carefully. So easy.
The first half a lesson he got to know all of the pupils, asked them about their parents, hobbies and friends. The children were, however, more confident and fluent-speaking than Mrs. Neiman promised. ‘How are you? - Fine and you?’ ‘Where are you from?’ - ‘From Manchester, the UK. And you?’ ‘Wow! And how’s life in Manchester?’ - ‘It’s OK. I love it.’ ‘Do you like Moscow? Why are you here? Are you really from the UK?’ and so on. The questions finished within twenty minutes, so he had to find something else useful to do.
‘You know, pupils,’ he said, ‘the biggest problem to me is to distinguish the sounds in your speech. Sometimes even the correct sentence sounds weird, gibberish. So, I hope, my explanation can help you improve your pronunciation. Say,’ he stopped talking and thought about the right example, ‘say, ‘fool’ and ‘full’. You mustn’t mix them up!’ When he wrote both words on the blackboard, children began to smile and some gave a laugh. ‘So, in your language it doesn’t matter. But when in a UK restaurant or cafe, don’t say ‘I’m fuuuuuull!’ the way you are now.’ The children nodded and asked for some more examples. ‘Secondly, you must learn to pronounce ‘bed’ and ‘bad’, let alone ‘bet’ and ‘bat’. Simply try to pronounce every letter in every English word as clearly as possible from the beginning to the end.’ He smiled and so did the children. ‘Thirdly, practice every day poking your tongues out of your mouths, so to speak. Have a look at the board!’ He wrote some words and the pupils began to read them trying to copy him. ‘Yes, right. ‘think’ and ‘sink’. And this pair ‘were’ and ‘wore’. ‘Though’ and ‘so’. You see, it’s a matter of practice. Sooner or later you’ll get used to speaking correctly, but it takes time in the beginning. For example, I recommend you to read and learn this verse, as it can help you to control you pronunciation.’ Peter wiped down the board and wrote four lines:
I have a cat. His name is Pat.
He can do this, he can do that.
He often cuddles on my bed
I like to pat my pet’s head.
All of the children began to read at the same time and made a noise. He stopped them and asked to read one by one. Initially, everything was OK and there appeared to be no problem.
‘Mr. Teacher,’ one of them suddenly called to Peter.
‘Call me Peter,’ he said with a smile.
‘OK. Peter, I have learned it by heart. Can I recite it?’ he stood quietly and Peter thought the headteacher probably hadn’t visited this group for a long time, thinking they are slow to learn.
‘Of course, you can. Go on!’ he replied and smiled delightedly at their enthusiasm. The little ‘sparrow’ - the boy had his hair cut so short that he really looked like the bird - was anxious and recited with short breaks to breathe. Peter smiled with a welcome expression on his face. The pupil finished and deserved an excellent mark. Peter showed him ‘thumbs up’.
‘Is it ‘five’?’ the boy yelled.
‘Why not?’ Peter said, and the pupil immediately asked for it to be entered into the register. Peter didn’t mind. A wall of hands went up after this boy’s brilliant success. Everyone wanted to prove that he or she was as good as the first. Peter agreed. The last one, though, was a shy boy who looked down and appeared uneasy. He fumbled nervously with his buttons and blushed.
‘What’s your name?’ Peter asked.
‘Sergey. My name is Sergey Zhurkov,’ the boy replied, his voice trembling.
‘Take it easy. Don’t worry!’ Peter smiled.
‘OK. Just a second. I can… I can say it. Wait, please…’ In a few seconds he found his courage and began to speak.
‘I have a cat. His name is fat,’ as soon as he said it, Peter couldn’t help laughing because he imagined a big lazy fat cat like their Disney in Manchester, who was so spoilt that he didn’t even drink milk. Once though, a miracle happened: Disney jumped down from a chair onto the floor and fell on his back. It was very funny and it made all the family laugh. Peter shook his head in an attempt to clear it and carry on. When he looked up at the boy, he stopped smiling and had a lump in his throat. The little boy was desperately crying.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Sergey,’ Peter apologized, ‘I wasn’t deliberate. Not at all. I have a cat in Manchester and he is really fat. His name is Disney. So, you see…’ he could not finish his excuses because his words made the class laugh and it made things even worse. The boy kept his head down and didn’t reply. ‘OK, let’s give it a try again, please. Sergey, can you hear me?’ The boy nodded. He tried to say something but it was hard.
‘Aren’t you going to give me a good mark?’ Sergey cried. ‘I can do it, I can…’ He couldn’t finish his sentence as he was overcome once again with his emotions.
‘Don’t worry. Calm down and concentrate. You can try again,’ Peter said. After the boy calmed down a little, Peter asked him to say it again. The pupil did it slowly but very thoroughly and precisely. ‘That’s great!’ Peter encouraged him. ‘Keep at it.’
The boy looked up slowly and asked:
‘And what mark will you give me?’ Everybody laughed.
‘You deserve ‘five’, Peter said.
‘Really?’ The boy couldn’t believe it.
‘Indeed. I’ll do it in the register right now,’ he promised. Sergey was really proud and only red spots on his cheeks reminded about the tears. Peter sighed deep inside and smiled too.