還能進(jìn)步：一個(gè)數(shù)學(xué)老師的前半學(xué)期總結(jié)

Seven weeks ago, on my first day as a trainee maths teacher, a lost 11-year-old in a brand new, oversized blazer approached me. “Miss,” he said, “where’s room 211?”

本學(xué)期剛開(kāi)學(xué)時(shí)，在我開(kāi)始當(dāng)實(shí)習(xí)數(shù)學(xué)老師的第一天，一個(gè)迷路的11歲娃，穿著件超大的夾克衫走近我。“，”他問(wèn)，“女士(注：英文為Miss, 這是英國(guó)中小學(xué)對(duì)女教師的叫法)，請(qǐng)問(wèn)211室在哪?”

I had no idea where the room was — or what I was doing standing in a school corridor. I felt as if I had been snatched from my comfortable life as an FT columnist and dropped into the alien territory of Mossbourne Community Academy in Hackney, east London. I shook my head helplessly and he looked as if he might cry. I felt inclined to join him.

我不曉得哪是211——也搞不清自己干嘛站在一個(gè)學(xué)校的走廊里。我原來(lái)舒舒服服地當(dāng)著英國(guó)《金融時(shí)報(bào)》的專欄作家，現(xiàn)在我感覺(jué)好像誰(shuí)把我從那種安逸日子中揪了出來(lái)，然后拋在了倫敦東部哈克尼區(qū)(Hackney)莫斯布恩社區(qū)學(xué)校(Mossbourne Community Academy)的陌生地盤(pán)。我無(wú)助地?fù)u了搖頭，這個(gè)娃看起來(lái)要哭了。我也想跟他一起哭。

Half a term later I know the answer to his question. I strut around the school wearing my red lanyard that says “staff” on it, and the word no longer feels like a lie. On an open evening in my third week, prospective parents took one look at my grey hair and assumed I had been teaching for decades rather than days. I saw no reason to disabuse them.

半學(xué)期過(guò)后，我知道該怎么回答那個(gè)孩子了。我昂首闊步地走在校園里，戴著自己寫(xiě)著“教員”字樣的紅色掛繩，不再自覺(jué)心虛。在我任教第三周的開(kāi)放參觀夜，準(zhǔn)家長(zhǎng)們一看到我花白的頭發(fā)，都以為我教了大半輩子書(shū)，而不是短短幾天。我也找不到糾正人家的理由。

Yet there is another question that still floors me. It is one I get asked by almost everyone I meet: “How’s teaching? Are you enjoying it?”

然而擊敗我的還有另一個(gè)問(wèn)題。這個(gè)問(wèn)題幾乎每個(gè)我遇到的人都會(huì)問(wèn)我：“教書(shū)怎么樣?挺享受不?”

A lot seems to hang on my answer. Nearly a year ago I co-founded Now Teach to convince other middle-aged professionals to ditch their cushy jobs and retrain as teachers. Nearly four dozen are training alongside me in assorted London secondary schools, teaching mainly maths and science. Now we have started recruiting again, aiming to persuade an even larger group to join this noble profession next year.

我的答案似乎關(guān)系重大。大約一年前，我和別人聯(lián)合創(chuàng)辦了Now Teach，去說(shuō)服其他中年專業(yè)人士放棄他們舒適的工作，重新受訓(xùn)當(dāng)教師。大約有40人和我一起在倫敦各式各樣的中學(xué)培訓(xùn)，主要教數(shù)學(xué)與科學(xué)。現(xiàn)在我們又開(kāi)始招人了，想勸說(shuō)更多的人在明年加入這一崇高的職業(yè)。

Unfortunately, the word “enjoy” fails to describe how I feel about my new job. Since September I have lost half a stone and live in constant fear of making an idiot of myself. It is not enjoyable to get in such a muddle that you write on the electronic white board with a felt pen — as I have done. Neither is it enjoyable when you are trying so hard to remember names and be vigilant for any sign of inattention that you get your own sums wrong and a student points it out.

不好意思，“享受”這個(gè)詞無(wú)法表達(dá)我對(duì)自己這份新工作的感受。九月以來(lái)我體重下降了7磅，總怕自己出洋相。像我這樣，卷入要拿著白板筆在電子白板上寫(xiě)字的麻煩事可沒(méi)啥享受的。還有，費(fèi)勁吧啦地去記一大堆名字，還得時(shí)刻警惕學(xué)生是不是開(kāi)小差了，結(jié)果不留神自己算錯(cuò)數(shù)，被一個(gè)學(xué)生給指出來(lái)了，這也不是什么享受的事。

A word that better describes my early classroom experience is obsession. It is a bit like being at the beginning of a tumultuous love affair. I feel euphoria one moment — when I have successfully explained how to turn a recurring decimal into a fraction — and despair the next. Even at the weekend, when I do not have to stumble out of bed for pre-school meetings, I wake before dawn with my head full of snatches of lesson plans and the faces of my new charges.

有個(gè)詞能更貼切地描述出我的教學(xué)“初體驗(yàn)”，那就是癡迷。這有點(diǎn)像剛開(kāi)始一段充滿激情的戀愛(ài)關(guān)系。我時(shí)而感到開(kāi)心——當(dāng)我成功地解釋出怎么將循環(huán)小數(shù)轉(zhuǎn)換成分?jǐn)?shù)時(shí)——緊接著又陷入絕望。即使周末不用為課前會(huì)議掙扎著爬起床，我也會(huì)在天亮前醒來(lái)，滿腦子都是零碎的教案和我那些學(xué)生的臉。

One of my fellow Now Teach trainees, who in a previous life was a top civil servant, says teaching is a bit like having a baby. It is more shattering, more difficult — but also more rewarding — than anyone can prepare you for.

一位和我一起在Now Teach參加培訓(xùn)的朋友，原先是一名高級(jí)公務(wù)員，她說(shuō)教書(shū)有點(diǎn)像養(yǎng)娃。無(wú)論事前別人向你傳授了多少經(jīng)驗(yàn)，真的做這件事時(shí)，你都會(huì)猝不及防地發(fā)現(xiàn)這件事有多么可怕、多么困難，但又多么令人滿足。

For me, it is like having a baby in a different way. When my eldest child was born 26 years ago, for the first time in my life I had something more pressing to think about than myself. Becoming a teacher has performed the same miracle professionally — teaching is no longer about me. It is about the students, and more precisely about getting them to learn some maths.

對(duì)我來(lái)說(shuō)，教書(shū)像是另一種意義上的養(yǎng)娃。26年前我家老大出生了，那是我這輩子頭一回有比自己更迫切需要我去關(guān)心的東西。成為一個(gè)老師就已經(jīng)在職業(yè)上實(shí)現(xiàn)了同樣的奇跡——教書(shū)不是為了我自己，而是為了學(xué)生，更具體地說(shuō)就是為了讓他們學(xué)一些數(shù)學(xué)知識(shí)。

The second unexpected pleasure comes from being the most inept novice in the school. I had expected to find this humbling, but instead feel weirdly liberated by it. No one expects me to be good straight away — I am a trainee. All I have to do is get better, and given how bad I was to start with, this is quite easy.

第二種出乎意料的樂(lè)趣是我成了學(xué)校里最秀逗的新手。我原以為這會(huì)很丟人，但卻奇怪地感到被解放了。沒(méi)人指望我能立馬勝任——我是個(gè)實(shí)習(xí)老師。我要做的就是每天進(jìn)步一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)，鑒于我的起點(diǎn)如此之低，這實(shí)在太容易了。

Already, I know how to give instructions; the most efficient way of handing out sheets; not to talk so much — or so fast. I still see the electronic white board as my sworn enemy, but I am sometimes able to make it bend to my wishes.

我已經(jīng)知道怎么教學(xué)生;怎么給學(xué)生發(fā)放資料最有效率;說(shuō)話不要太多——或太快。雖然我與電子白板仍不共戴天，但有時(shí)我也能讓這玩意服從我的意愿。

Each of my lessons is taught with the door open so that any teacher can wander in and tell me where I am going wrong. This is a shock, as I come from a world where feedback is spasmodic, belated and generally unwelcome. Now I have to get used to being told in precise terms what I am doing wrong — and how to put it right.

我講課時(shí)都敞著門(mén)，這樣任何老師都能走進(jìn)來(lái)告訴我哪兒做得不對(duì)。這著實(shí)令人震驚，因?yàn)樵谖乙酝氖澜缋?，反饋總是零星的、姍姍?lái)遲，而且通常不怎么招待見(jiàn)?，F(xiàn)在我不得不習(xí)慣聽(tīng)人家準(zhǔn)確地指出我哪里做得不對(duì)——以及如何改正。

While I teach, my mentor — a formidable maths teacher who is a quarter of a century my junior and takes no nonsense from anyone, including me — stations herself at the back of the classroom, frowning and ominously taking notes. After one lesson, she presented me with a list of 18 Ts, each with a circle around it. T stands for target, but it might as well have been for terrible.

在我講課時(shí)，我的導(dǎo)師——一位比我年輕四分之一個(gè)世紀(jì)的令人敬畏的數(shù)學(xué)老師，她從不受任何人忽悠，包括我——坐在教室后排，眉頭緊蹙，十分不妙地做著筆記。一節(jié)課過(guò)后，她給了我18個(gè)T，每個(gè)T都畫(huà)了個(gè)圈。T代表目標(biāo)(target)，但也可能代表糟糕(terrible)。

In my old life if I had been told by an editor that there were even two things wrong with a column, I would have taken it amiss. Now, though I do not adore being presented with 18 “targets”, the better part of me is grateful. I know it is the only way I will get better.

以往如果我被一個(gè)編輯告知專欄里哪怕只有兩處錯(cuò)誤，我都會(huì)往心里去。如今，雖然我不愿意被人家一下給出18個(gè)“目標(biāo)”，但我知道應(yīng)該心懷感激。我知道這是我改進(jìn)的唯一途徑。

An even more radical change is that I have come to love rules. Pre-teaching, my life had been almost entirely rule-free. I was educated at a liberal school that viewed rules as an impediment to creativity. Later, as a journalist, I made a point of disregarding the few rules there were. It was my job to mock corporate rigidity. I even wrote a column once, boasting about how I had never read my own company’s code of conduct.

一個(gè)更劇烈的變化是我開(kāi)始熱愛(ài)規(guī)矩。教書(shū)之前，我的生活中幾乎沒(méi)有規(guī)矩。我上的那所學(xué)校校風(fēng)自由，認(rèn)為規(guī)矩阻礙創(chuàng)新。后來(lái)當(dāng)了記者，我決意不理會(huì)僅存的不多的幾條規(guī)矩。嘲諷公司中的僵化作風(fēng)是我的工作。我甚至還寫(xiě)過(guò)一篇專欄，自豪地說(shuō)我從未讀過(guò)自己東家的《行為準(zhǔn)則》。

Now I live in a world where rules rule. Mossbourne is famous for its strict ways — uniform is worn perfectly and students move around the school in silence. “No excuses” is one of the school’s two values (the other being excellence) and that applies to the staff as much as to the students.

目前我身在一個(gè)規(guī)矩為王的世界。莫斯布恩以嚴(yán)格著稱——大家都好好地穿著制服，學(xué)生們?cè)趯W(xué)校里安靜地走動(dòng)。“杜絕借口”是本校兩大價(jià)值觀之一(另一個(gè)是追求卓越)，這對(duì)于教員和學(xué)生同樣適用。

There are rules governing where I need to be, what I wear and how I comport myself. Bells ring every 55 minutes, and as students move between lessons I station myself on the staircase and try to bark “hands out of pockets!” as authoritatively as my colleagues.

這里有規(guī)矩管著我應(yīng)該在哪、穿什么以及我的行為舉止。鈴聲每隔55分鐘就響一次，當(dāng)學(xué)生們課間走動(dòng)時(shí)，我站在樓梯上，試著像我的同事們一樣發(fā)號(hào)施令“都把手從口袋里拿出來(lái)!”

These rules, and the punctilious way in which they are upheld, daily save my bacon. It is thanks to them that no one has thrown furniture at me. That no one has sworn at me. That instead, students come to lessons ready to learn.

這些規(guī)矩，以及對(duì)規(guī)矩的那種一絲不茍的執(zhí)行，每天都在救我的命。多虧有這些規(guī)矩才沒(méi)人朝我掀桌子扔板凳。沒(méi)人罵我。學(xué)生們也乖乖來(lái)上我的課。

I welcome the rules in another, less obvious, way. They have freed me from the ambiguity that has dogged my professional life. For the first time I know precisely what is expected of me — with the result that I feel oddly calm.

我還以另一種方式默默地感謝著這些規(guī)矩。它們讓我擺脫了一直伴隨我職業(yè)生涯的那種模棱兩可。我第一次明確地知道別人希望我怎么做——結(jié)果我感到出奇地平靜。

From my first half-term have come two other minor surprises. The first is how much I love school dinners. By lunchtime I am so ravenously hungry that I fall on a plastic tub of soft pasta in orange tomato sauce as if it were the best food I have ever eaten.

我的前半學(xué)期還有兩個(gè)小驚喜。第一就是我超愛(ài)學(xué)校的飯食。到午飯時(shí)間我就餓得兩眼發(fā)慌了，我埋頭吃著一塑料盆軟乎乎的浸在橙紅色番茄醬里的意大利面，好像從沒(méi)吃過(guò)這么香的東西。

The second is how agreeable it is, at the age of 58, to be called Miss. Last Friday as I prepared to go to the pub with my delightful 20-something colleagues, I thought fondly to myself that teaching has knocked 30 years off me. Alas not everyone seems to agree: that very day one of my fellow maths teachers cheerfully told me that I reminded her of her grandmother.

第二就是，到了58歲還被人叫做“女士”，心情簡(jiǎn)直不要太好。一個(gè)周五我準(zhǔn)備跟一群20來(lái)歲朝氣蓬勃的同事去酒吧時(shí)，還一廂情愿地以為，教書(shū)讓我年輕了30歲。唉，但不是每個(gè)人都這么認(rèn)為：就在那天，另外一位數(shù)學(xué)老師興致勃勃地告訴我，我讓她想起了她奶奶。

I have survived the first half-term, but I suspect the hard part is yet to come. My school has started me off lightly — I teach only for seven hours a week, but after half-term I will be given more classes. I do not expect to enjoy it. But with every week that passes I am feeling more confident that one day, when I know what I am doing, I will reply to the question “how’s teaching?” by saying: “I love it.”

我已經(jīng)成功度過(guò)了半個(gè)學(xué)期，但我猜想艱難的時(shí)刻尚未到來(lái)。因?yàn)槲也艅傞_(kāi)始教書(shū)，學(xué)校給我的教學(xué)任務(wù)很輕——每周教7個(gè)小時(shí)，但半學(xué)期后他們會(huì)給我安排更多的課時(shí)。到時(shí)候我大概不會(huì)覺(jué)得“享受”。但每度過(guò)一周，我就感到更自信了些，某天，當(dāng)我知道教書(shū)是怎么一回事了，對(duì)于“教書(shū)怎么樣?”這個(gè)問(wèn)題我會(huì)這樣回答：“我愛(ài)教書(shū)。”