very cool!

 Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri was incredibly entertaining, but mostly because of the memories I recalled while reading it.

I particularly enjoyed the aspect of the story in which Mrs. Das confesses her deepest secret to Mr. Kapasi, confusing his job as an interpreter with that of a therapist. I think I enjoyed it so much because I have also been in that position... many times. 

Anyone who has ever worked as a cashier will tell you that strangers love to tell other strangers about their lives. Unprompted. While it sometimes keeps the job interesting, my general awkwardness makes it difficult to conjure up responses to random women at my register telling me that their husband is dead. It's just not part of my job description.

These 30-second interactions are no match for the hour-long English lessons I used to conduct quite frequently, however. Through my tutoring site, I have logged over 80 hours of lessons, some of which were in-depth grammar review, but most of which were simple conversational practice. These were my favorite because, aside from the fact that they required much less preparation, some really... interesting things came up in conversation. Like Mr. Kapasi, I think I was often mistaken for a therapist.

Here are some highlights:

I once met a 40ish-year-old man from Bangladesh who spoke at an A2/B1 level. We spent most of his hour discussing how much he hated his wife. Truthfully. It wasn't as uncomfortable as it sounds, though. He told me about arranged marriages being the norm in his country, and we discussed cultural differences that enlightened both of us. He never booked another lesson, but I still think about this deeply unhappy -- but kind -- man and his wife that his parents chose for him. 

I also tutored a man, also in his 40s, from Chile who quickly became one of my regulars: he booked both grammar and conversation lessons with me weekly, and stayed for about 10 weeks, speaking at a C1 level. After a few lessons, he grew comfortable enough to tell me about his brother's marital problems -- in great detail. On the bright side, we made huge strides in differentiating gerunds and infinitives that week. 

Lastly, my favorite and most loyal student was a 50 year old Russian man (I would say, B2 level) who lived in Israel and spent about 20 hours of his life with me, telling me just about everything that was on his mind. I heard about his restaurant business and his very old dog (oh, I hope she is well), as well as his daughter and wife (whom he loved very much, don't worry). He frequently left identical reviews reading "very cool!" and in messages, he often referred to me as "Medison." That last part isn't really relevant to my point, but it gives you a sense of his charm. 

I think this aspect of my (former) job was my favorite. Because although I wasn't really there for them to unload these secrets to, I think there is a very real and very human need to communicate them. And what better place to do that than in an English lesson with someone thousands of miles away? I never really minded, and it never became inappropriate. But I found that the most bizarre secrets often came from those who booked once and never came back, and I think this was Mrs. Das's headspace in "Interpreter of Maladies." 

I know for a fact that my experience as an English tutor was much more meaningful than the casual confessions of the story, however. 

Genuinely, I really miss tutoring; it wasn't solely comprised of gerunds and conditional clauses (although there were plenty of those too). I made connections with a lot of people from different places, ages, and backgrounds. People whose grad school intent letters I proofread, whose resumes I reviewed, and whose senior projects I assessed. People who led fascinating, full lives that I was able to be the tiniest part of, and people who cheered for me when I officially received my TEFL certification and even when I re-enrolled in college. So no, most of my English learners were not ashamedly confessing their darkest secrets to a complete stranger -- as we saw in Lahiri's story. 

We shared the victories as well as the defeats. 

I had no idea what photo to put with this post, but I wanted to keep with my tradition of only using my own photos. Here is Killarney, Ireland, entirely unedited. I think this photo is "very cool!" so it fits tangentially.