Teachable Moments

Today's Thoughts...

Well I thought that a lesson on product launching as a segment of my marketing game in Public Speaking would be fairly innocuous. Students had to simply survey their peers and teachers about a given product-- deodorant, face wash, toothpaste, toilet tissue-- and come back with their findings. Do you like it soft/minty/fresh/fruity? What adjective comes to mind when you think of it? What person(s) come to mind when you think of it? The point was, basically, to devise a persuasive speech and commercial to gear your product towards a target community in need or better yet, want, of it. Simple, right? Hence my teachable moment.

One group returns, bright-eyed and eager with their report on deodorant. Sipping my morning cup o' joe, I listen and smile, nodding, tallying their points. People think of deodorant as refreshing, freshening, drying, whitening (this is Thailand, remember, a place where like perhaps some two thirds of the world people take the time to whiten their pits). Check: two points. People love that deodorant can keep them smelling fresh, keep them dry, provide a delicious aroma to waft from beneath their arms. Check: two points, er, one point-- aroma? Delicious? Hmmm. What people does it make you think of? At this, one of the students presenting clears his throat and sort of mumbles a reply. "Speak up," I urge him, my face half buried in my notebook as I track their score. He mumbles again. I swivel on my stool to face him, smiling. "What did your group find out," I press, ignorant to his discomfort. "Well, ajarn," he starts. "The people it makes you think of is the Turkish students because they smell not so good all the time. I mean, some of them, smell not so good all the time. I mean...," his eyes dart to the sole Turkish student in our class. He quickly fashions an apology-- "No, not you. I mean, like other kids, who need... to... er... wear deodorant."

The rest of the class chatters on, oblivious. I freeze, coffee mug in hand. What did they call this at AACLDS-- a teachable moment? Okay, okay, what do I say? My brain is racing. I nod to him, giving him permission to squirm to his seat as the next group rises. My Turkish student and I lock eyes and instantly I'm in his seat, seven years ago, sitting in my Social Justice classroom sophomore year of high school. Girls in green skirts are chatting all around me as our teacher writes two words on the board-- AFFIRMATIVE ACTION. Strawberry blonde ponytail bobbing, the girl in front of me quickly raises her hand to answer the teacher's query-- "What is affirmative action?" "Well, it's when Black and Spanish kids get to take the spots of smarter White kids in school just because they're minorities." I feel myself cringe, sinking lower in my chair. All the pale faces in the classroom turn to face me; I suddenly feel like its one of those I-went-to-class-in-my-underwear dreams. My teacher turns beet red and the strawberry blonde ponytail slowly swivels to face me, her face one color from the tip of her nose to the ends of her hair. "I mean kids who don't work hard, not like you," she stammers. I excuse myself to the rest room and don't come back. My teacher is silent.

I blink and see my student's eyes once more. Allowing the remaining two groups to report, I gather my faculties and slow my spinning thoughts. As the final students take their seats, I turn to the board and write one word on the board: STEREOTYPE. I turn to face the class, already steadily copying. "What did we say you never want to do when you speak before a large group of people?" I ask. Pages flip, a hand goes up: "Alienate your audience." "And what is the best way to do that?" Another hand: "Offend someone." "What is a stereotype?" Blank stares. One student raises his hand uncertainly: "Making an opinion about a whole group based on rumors or what a few people have done or do." His textbook answer suffices. I look to the student who had read the earlier presentation. "Now I know you were reporting from what your interviewee told you, about Turkish students and the deodorant, right?" He nods. "Well, no fault to you, this is a good example to show one way of accidentally alienating and offending not only your audience but your friends..."

After roughly another half hour, the class ends and the students gather their books. I notice as my former presenter approaches his Turkish classmate. Words exchange, nods, some smiles, and what only can be called a handshake-man-hug. (You know when guys slap hands and pull into something akin to a one-armed hug? That.) I smile. My Turkish student smiles. Sighing a deep breath, for the first time I notice the beads of perspiration running down my face and neck; I realize I might just need some deodorant myself.