Hey guys!
Please critique the following. It is the response to Mac's prompt, "Describe a situation where you had to work or closely associate with someone from a background very different from your own. What challenges did you face and how did you resolve them? (No word limit)". I tutored some students from the local government school from 8th to 10th grades, and have tried to include that here. As always, I will critique yours in return.
"Mane samajh nathi padtu tame shun kehta cho. Kripa kari Gujarati maa vaat karo". Translated to English this means, "I don't understand what you are saying. Please converse in Gujarati". In spite of all my attempts to convey how the two dimensional representation of an octahedron is an octagon, I could not get across my point to Meeku.
I remember the day when our maid brought along her son to our house like it was yesterday. His distinguishing feature was not his unusually small hands or his extremely close-set eyes, but his extraordinarily curiosity - about how my mother's mobile phone worked, what the microwave did, and why I had so many books. In the middle of this incessant line of questioning, he managed to tell me that he was a sixth standard student at our local Municipality school. We got talking and soon I learned that he was particularly fond of Mathematics, but was disappointed with the uninspiring teaching and the disillusioned teachers at his school. He went out on a limb and asked me if I could explain to him the chapter on geometrical figures from his textbook in my free time. To this day I am glad that I said yes.
We started the next day, but made very little progress. Teaching Meeku even simple mathematical concepts using Hindi or English terminology turned out to be a Herculean task. Soon it was clear that my only options were either getting fluent in Gujarati, or giving up on the endeavor altogether. Though I have grown up in Gujarat, till that moment I had never really bothered to learn Gujarati, since I always got by just fine using Hindi. This predicament, however, forced me to make a deliberate effort to learn the language of my state. I approached a friend who agreed to tutor me. After practicing for two weeks, I managed to learn the Gujarati terms for a whole slew of mathematical figures and operations; we could now begin anew.
We quickly finished that certain chapter, and moved on to the next one. And the next one. For two months we made brilliant progress, and I was elated to be doing a 'noble' deed. However one particular incident jolted me out of my priggishness. We had barely begun with the concept of simple interest, when Meeku abruptly stopped me to ask, "But why on earth would my parents give their money to a bank? How will they pay the rent if they do that?" I was swiftly reminded that many families do not have the cushion of savings to fall back on, that if Meeku's parents did not go to work for a day they might not have food on the table at night. That was his way of telling me to get off my high horse and appreciate my fortune at having being born in a family that could provide me with a comfortable living. I realized that diversity is not only realized in the color of one's skin, it is also affected in the way actualizes one's community.
What started out as a pseudo teacher-student relationship has today blossomed into a lasting friendship. Meeku will take his tenth standard school leaving examination this year, and I am certain that this will only be his stepping stone to larger things.
Please critique the following. It is the response to Mac's prompt, "Describe a situation where you had to work or closely associate with someone from a background very different from your own. What challenges did you face and how did you resolve them? (No word limit)". I tutored some students from the local government school from 8th to 10th grades, and have tried to include that here. As always, I will critique yours in return.
"Mane samajh nathi padtu tame shun kehta cho. Kripa kari Gujarati maa vaat karo". Translated to English this means, "I don't understand what you are saying. Please converse in Gujarati". In spite of all my attempts to convey how the two dimensional representation of an octahedron is an octagon, I could not get across my point to Meeku.
I remember the day when our maid brought along her son to our house like it was yesterday. His distinguishing feature was not his unusually small hands or his extremely close-set eyes, but his extraordinarily curiosity - about how my mother's mobile phone worked, what the microwave did, and why I had so many books. In the middle of this incessant line of questioning, he managed to tell me that he was a sixth standard student at our local Municipality school. We got talking and soon I learned that he was particularly fond of Mathematics, but was disappointed with the uninspiring teaching and the disillusioned teachers at his school. He went out on a limb and asked me if I could explain to him the chapter on geometrical figures from his textbook in my free time. To this day I am glad that I said yes.
We started the next day, but made very little progress. Teaching Meeku even simple mathematical concepts using Hindi or English terminology turned out to be a Herculean task. Soon it was clear that my only options were either getting fluent in Gujarati, or giving up on the endeavor altogether. Though I have grown up in Gujarat, till that moment I had never really bothered to learn Gujarati, since I always got by just fine using Hindi. This predicament, however, forced me to make a deliberate effort to learn the language of my state. I approached a friend who agreed to tutor me. After practicing for two weeks, I managed to learn the Gujarati terms for a whole slew of mathematical figures and operations; we could now begin anew.
We quickly finished that certain chapter, and moved on to the next one. And the next one. For two months we made brilliant progress, and I was elated to be doing a 'noble' deed. However one particular incident jolted me out of my priggishness. We had barely begun with the concept of simple interest, when Meeku abruptly stopped me to ask, "But why on earth would my parents give their money to a bank? How will they pay the rent if they do that?" I was swiftly reminded that many families do not have the cushion of savings to fall back on, that if Meeku's parents did not go to work for a day they might not have food on the table at night. That was his way of telling me to get off my high horse and appreciate my fortune at having being born in a family that could provide me with a comfortable living. I realized that diversity is not only realized in the color of one's skin, it is also affected in the way actualizes one's community.
What started out as a pseudo teacher-student relationship has today blossomed into a lasting friendship. Meeku will take his tenth standard school leaving examination this year, and I am certain that this will only be his stepping stone to larger things.