Cultural Baggage

Teaching abroad is an odd, challenging and infinitely interesting experience. One of the first things I noticed when I was substitute teaching at middle schools around Wellington was that students are mirrors of their culture. Imagine my surprise when an excited group of 11 and 12 year old students asked me if I've ever seen WWE wrestlers walking down the street. "You mean in their outfits?" I asked. "Yeah," they practically shouted back, unable to contain their interest in a person that brought a *very* tenuous connection to their favourite "sport" right into their classroom. Of course I answered no and said that if the wrestlers were walking the streets in regular clothing I would have no way of knowing what kind of work they do. "Oy," they complained and then went back to more important things like launching pieces of rubber eraser across the room with their rulers.

Who knew that wrestling made it onto TV down here? It was the last piece of American culture that I expected to see. Nor did I expect the honesty of these young students. I liked to play up the foreigner concept and bring news articles into the classroom. I'd read about things going on around the world (non-American and non-Kiwi). Students were very curious about the world and frequently brought a New Zealand perspective to concepts. On the subject of the proliferation of high fructose corn syrup and a mono-corn agriculture the students had a hard time with the idea that anything made from vegetables could be bad for you. Typical kid thinking, right?

But this is New Zealand, where old ways die hard. Take the drinking culture for example. There used to be a time when Victorian morals applied to everything, including when and how certain goods could be bought and sold. Until a few generations ago pubs and bars couldn’t sell any sort of alcohol after 6 pm. Working class folk all over the country, jonesing for a chemically-enhanced feeling of relaxation, would flood the pubs at 5 and drink as much as their bodies could could hold before 6 o’clock rolled around. Once the 6pm rule ended, though, the bingeing didn’t. As a result New Zealand has a very real national problem with binge drinking and drunk driving that has managed to survive. This relaxed attitude toward alcohol also manifests itself in other laws: the purchasing age for alcohol is 18 and it is legal to consume alcohol under that age if approved by a guardian or older family member. Kiwis learn to drink early and to drink poorly.

There is a growing discussion in the media about these problems and I decided to do a little discussion/debate issue with a group of 13 year olds. What did they think of all the fuss about young people drinking? They couldn't seem to grasp the idea that drunken, brawling 17-year-olds are not just "boys being boys," but instead victims of a drinking culture run amok. While adults begin to question the effects of their role modelling on young New Zealand, the children are blissfully ignorant of the change in perceptions around them. They see the norm not as something to change and question but as just the way things are. For the most part they don't implant "question thy elder" chips in the kids here.

So what’s the most common question Kiwi students ask visiting Americans? Teens most commonly scrunch up their faces and ask, “You're from America? What the hell are you doing here?” For the younger crowd it’s, “Do you own a gun?” Both groups, without exception, always look disappointed when they find out that no, I’m not currently packing a six-shooter nor have I ever owned a gun. Their disinterest quickly grows to epic proportions when they find out that I think New Zealand just as interesting as the States. Maybe they were expecting a cross between Annie Oakley and an Oakland Raiders cheerleader.

To Boldly Go Where Many Have Gone Before

Due to popular demand and demanding family, a blog is born. Initially I had apprehensions about publishing my experiences as a teacher in the public schools of New Zealand. The very nature of my job is public; I deal with a wide section of the community on a daily basis and my job dictates, in no small part, how I should act and operate in my personal life when I'm out and about. Thus I cling to my privacy with every intention of keeping that part of my life intact. Part of what makes teaching so tiring for me is that the line between my public and private selves is so blurred. I can't seem to get away from my job, no matter how much I try: I see my students when I shop for toilet paper and groceries at the store, when I go out for a coffee with my husband and when I catch public transit. I often wake up in the middle of the night wondering how to address such-and-such issue or problem in the classroom. I read stories of teachers being fired for choices they make in their personal lives and wonder how much people are watching me during my forays outside the house on the weekends. I can no longer wear two-piece swimming suits to the beach or buy personal toiletries at certain grocery stores for fear of being labeled an exhibitionist or, even worse, a functioning, normal human being.

Writing about my work in a public forum, in this light, can be a dangerous thing. I'm putting even more of myself out there into the public realm. What remains of my professional life that I have kept private up to this point are no longer in the dark. In a way, you could accuse me of being an exhibitionist.

The things I'll write about in this blog are the kinds of things I normally wouldn't talk about at work. They're the sorts of things I keep to myself because I know other teachers probably 1) don't think of those things, or 2) think about them but don't share with me and, so, don't desire such thoughts to be public. There's also a lot to be said for not rocking the boat too much at work.

I have plenty of fellow teachers who come from outside of the New Zealand originally. They've probably had their shares of confusion and internal conflict and quiet jokes much like I have. A few have shared them with me in confidence and I appreciate that. So I share my own experiences with you, my family and friends. I hope you enjoy.