I’ve said it in this article, but it bears repeating. My students teach me far more than I teach them. I was reminded of this truth again this week, as I found myself sharing a booth with two of my students.
You see, my students are busy doing work placements at this time of year. Many have gone abroad, to some of the big international organizations, in order to gain a little work experience. This past week, for example, the Council of Europe in Strasbourg was kind enough to host some of the MCI students. Next week, the European Commission in Brussels will graciously welcome the same group. The students have also been fortunate enough to have been to the United Nations Office at Vienna and to the Permanent International Forum on Indigenous Issues, which takes place each year at UN Headquarters in New York.
Of course, not all of the MCI students can be globetrotters, so we have had work placements closer to home, too. One of these was a conference put on by Jer’s Vision, an organization that works to eliminate bullying, homophobia, transphobia, and other forms of discrimination in schools and youth communities. The conference was entitled “Dare to Stand Out,” and it brought together stakeholders who provide social services to gender and sexual minorities to create a strong national vision. The event was part of the 2014 World Pride, held in Toronto.
As an aside, I will say that we don’t normally accept freelance-style work placements for the students that are off campus. After all, there is a community of working professionals out there to do this sort of thing. But we agreed to interpret at the Jer’s Vision conference for three reasons:
- Jer’s Vision is a registered charity;
- Jer’s Vision does not hire working interpreters; and
- we had buy-in from the professional community (indeed, one of my freelance colleagues volunteered to be on the team).
Going into the conference, we agreed that I would simply be another interpreter on the team. This was in large part because the days were long, and a four-person team was needed to cover the extended hours.
In the end, the event turned out to be a real learning experience for me. Here are a few of the lessons that stand out in my mind.
1. Sometimes students need a break
During their studies, trainee interpreters get scrutinized in a way that working interpreters do not. Sure, in the real world, our clients can be tough on us. We have to provide the highest quality to earn their trust. However, they don’t yank us out of the booth after each turn and critique what we said and how we said it. When you have had a steady diet of steady critique — as well-intentioned and helpful as it may be — it does start to grate on your nerves after a while.
When I was a new interpreter, I was lucky enough to be hired by the Government of Canada. From my first day on the job until I had passed my accreditation exam (also known as the “TR-3”), I was mentored by more experienced colleagues. They listened to my every turn on the microphone, and in between turns, they gave me feedback on my work. They helped me a great deal, and I would not be the interpreter I am today without their input. However, after several months of daily scrutiny, I began to feel like enough was enough. I suffered from “assessment fatigue”, and I found myself just wanting to work for my clients without having to worry about what my mentors would say.
I was mindful of all of this when I sat in the booth this week. I could see on my students’ faces that what my students needed most from me was not my feedback. Instead, they needed me to trust in them to do a good job, and they needed me to give them the space to make the booth their own. So that’s what I did.
2. Sometimes teachers need a reality check
As an interpreter, I try to keep my skills sharp. But I’m not in the booth as often as my regular working colleagues, so it takes an extra effort. This week, during my first few turns, I felt a little rusty. It did not help that “Gender and Sexual Minorities” is not a topic area that interpreters encounter frequently. All that to say, I found myself—ahem — doing a few things on the microphone that I normally tell my students not to. I heard myself backtrack (i.e., spit out a first rendition of a concept and then give a second, better rendition). I heard myself pausing in the middle of a sentence (instead of waiting until I had understood a complete idea, or instead of chunking a complex idea up into several short sentences). Both of these are definite no-nos.
At one point, I did find myself wondering if I weren’t full of hot air. After all, I regularly chastise my students for doing such things. Here I was, not practicing what I preach.
I would even say that I was getting the slightest bit flustered. “This isn’t how I normally am in the booth,” I thought to myself. And then it dawned on me. My students were listening to me. Not in the way that a client listens to me. But in the way that other interpreters do — with a critical ear. It was enough to throw me just a little off my game.
In short, the ordinary roles were reversed. Normally, it’s the students who are under the microscope, and I get to “tut tut” this, and “you've got to do better” that. Now, the spotlight was on me, and I learned a special lesson in humility. Yes, teachers need to push our students to a high level of quality. Yes, we need to challenge them to be the best. But it’s a little too easy, day in and day out in the teacher’s chair, to forget what it’s like to be in the hot seat. We can push and encourage, but it has to be done from a place of compassion.
3. Today’s students are tomorrow’s booth-mates
As the preceding points suggest, it’s easy for teachers to fall into traps. We get used to commenting on student performance all the time. We get used to thinking of ourselves as “experts” while our students are“novices”. But the reality is, our relationships with our students change. To do right by our students, we have to acknowledge this.
Once upon a time, when I was starting out, I was mentored by an experienced colleague. The event we were working at had to do with immigration. During my first turn, I therefore had to say the word“citoyenneté” (French for “citizenship”) quite often. I recall stumbling over the word once or twice, before eventually getting myself sorted out. In the moment, I did not think it was a big deal. But when I finished my turn, the mentor pulled me out of the booth and made a federal case out of it. She made me repeat the word out loud dozens of times throughout the rest of the day.
More to the point, now years later, whenever I see her, she always reminds me of this incident.“Remember when you couldn’t say the word ‘citoyenneté’?” she will ask. “Remember when I had to correct you over and over?” She’s well-intentioned, of course, and she no doubt feels like this is a bond we share. But truth be told, I’m not a beginner anymore. I don’t have trouble saying, “citoyenneté”. (In fact, I would argue I didn’t have all that much trouble with it on the day in question either.)
The point of all this is that our students don’t stay students. In short order, they become fully fledged professionals. They develop expertise of their own. In the blink of an eye, we can find ourselves sharing a booth with them, just as we would with any other colleague. So it’s important to be mindful of this, even from day one of a student’s training.
These three lessons stood out like a beacon for me, following my experiences this week. I’ll do my best to incorporate them into my teaching practice from this point onwards, and I’ll hope that the training I provide is all the more effective. But most of all, I’ll remember that I have my students to thank for teaching me.