Overview Lesson Plan & Teaching Material
Five classes with two hours each
Teaching Material
Audio BookBook: Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok, published by
Riverhead Books in 2010 Give a fresh, exciting Chinese-American voice, an inspiring debut about an immigrant girl forced to choose between two worlds and two futures. To learn more about the author Jean Kwok, please click below.
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Girl in Translation speaks to many topics that are of pressing concern to ESL students and teachers today. These include immigrant rights, workplace exploitation, urban poverty, race, culture, identity formation, and the challenges faced by immigrant youth in school and family and peer relations.
Free Readability Tests using the Fry Graph
Lesson 2 – Chinatown
Part Two – Disk #1 Chinatown looked very much like Hong Kong, although the streets were less cramped. The fish store was piled high with sea bass and baskets of crabs; grocery store shelves were stocked with canned papayas, lichee nuts and star fruit; peddlers on the street sold fried tofu and rice gruel. I felt like skipping beside Ma as we passed restaurants with soy sauce chickens hanging in the window and jewelry stores that glittered with yellow god. I could understand everyone without any effort: “No, I want your best winter melons,” one woman said; “that’s much too expensive,” said a man in a puffy jacket. Part Thirteen – Disk #8 The café was packed. Everyone there was Chinese. In those days, the cafes with the best good hadn’t been discovered by tourists yet, and if a white person did somehow venture in, the waiter called “Red beard, blue eyes” along with the order so that the cook could adapt the dish for Western tastes. We stood in a long line of people waiting to be served. A counter ran along the length of the wall beside us, crowded with people who wanted to place take-out orders. Several waitresses behind the counter were packing food in plastic cartons into bags. “Ah-Matt, what are you doing, hiding here?” A short balding waiter was at Matt’s elbow, beaming at us. “Get out of there, follow me.” Despite the glares of the other patrons, we were pulled out of line and led to a small table at the end of the restaurant. Another waiter greeted Matt by name, then hurried over to clear off the dishes from our table. Matt grinned and said, “Thanks, ah-Ho. Hey, ah-Gong, don’t break any plates now.” Our waiter glanced at me, recognizing that I wasn’t Vivian, but was too polite to say anything. Our bowls of wonton soup were large and filled with homemade noodles and tender pastry wrapped around meat. I used my spoon to skim off a few scallions floating on top and poured them into my mouth. “It has been so long since I’ve had this.” “They are the best in Chinatown,” Matt said. “Do you come here a lot?” I couldn’t stop myself from picturing him here with Vivian every night. “No, I almost never get to eat here. I know these guys because I used to wash dishes here, in the back.” When was that? “A while ago, just to earn a few extra cents when I wasn’t at the factory.” “Why didn’t you stand by tables?” “I still looked too young. And then I got the Italian delivery job.” |
References
Texts are used for this course
Texts are used for this course
Bancroft, T., & Cook, B. (2012). Mulan Bring honor to us all [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/ZnUEDaeoF0Q
Brown, H. D. (2007). Teaching by principles: an interactive approach to language pedagogy (3rd ed). White Plains, NY: Pearson Education.
Buzz Feed Yellow. (2015). For my parents [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/6QhusY1zAHI
California teachers. (2014). Strong schools | K-12 school funding [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/xcLs-9VskO8
Girl in translation a novel. (2010). [New York]: Penguin Audio.
Kwok, J. (2010). Girl in translation. Thorndike, Me.: Center Point Pub.
New York Habitat. (2009). New York City - Video Tour of Chinatown, Manhattan [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/tFOrThNwCh4
Penguin Books USA. (2010). Girl in Translation, Jean Kwok [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/5calS151BdQ
Pierson, C. (2015, Fall). Terms and concepts. Presented at the INTR 611 Theoretical foundations for TESOL methodology, Wheaton College Graduate School.
Shiro, S. (2015). Omiyage gift giving in Japan [Youtube]. Japan. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/3UR95UIn35M
Brown, H. D. (2007). Teaching by principles: an interactive approach to language pedagogy (3rd ed). White Plains, NY: Pearson Education.
Buzz Feed Yellow. (2015). For my parents [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/6QhusY1zAHI
California teachers. (2014). Strong schools | K-12 school funding [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/xcLs-9VskO8
Girl in translation a novel. (2010). [New York]: Penguin Audio.
Kwok, J. (2010). Girl in translation. Thorndike, Me.: Center Point Pub.
New York Habitat. (2009). New York City - Video Tour of Chinatown, Manhattan [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/tFOrThNwCh4
Penguin Books USA. (2010). Girl in Translation, Jean Kwok [Youtube]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/5calS151BdQ
Pierson, C. (2015, Fall). Terms and concepts. Presented at the INTR 611 Theoretical foundations for TESOL methodology, Wheaton College Graduate School.
Shiro, S. (2015). Omiyage gift giving in Japan [Youtube]. Japan. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/3UR95UIn35M
Lesson 2 – Chinatown
Part Two – Disk #1
Chinatown looked very much like Hong Kong, although the streets were less cramped. The fish store was piled high with sea bass and baskets of crabs; grocery store shelves were stocked with canned papayas, lichee nuts and star fruit; peddlers on the street sold fried tofu and rice gruel. I felt like skipping beside Ma as we passed restaurants with soy sauce chickens hanging in the window and jewelry stores that glittered with yellow god. I could understand everyone without any effort: “No, I want your best winter melons,” one woman said; “that’s much too expensive,” said a man in a puffy jacket.
Part Thirteen – Disk #8
The café was packed. Everyone there was Chinese. In those days, the cafes with the best good hadn’t been discovered by tourists yet, and if a white person did somehow venture in, the waiter called “Red beard, blue eyes” along with the order so that the cook could adapt the dish for Western tastes. We stood in a long line of people waiting to be served. A counter ran along the length of the wall beside us, crowded with people who wanted to place take-out orders. Several waitresses behind the counter were packing food in plastic cartons into bags.
“Ah-Matt, what are you doing, hiding here?” A short balding waiter was at Matt’s elbow, beaming at us. “Get out of there, follow me.” Despite the glares of the other patrons, we were pulled out of line and led to a small table at the end of the restaurant. Another waiter greeted Matt by name, then hurried over to clear off the dishes from our table. Matt grinned and said, “Thanks, ah-Ho. Hey, ah-Gong, don’t break any plates now.”
Our waiter glanced at me, recognizing that I wasn’t Vivian, but was too polite to say anything. Our bowls of wonton soup were large and filled with homemade noodles and tender pastry wrapped around meat. I used my spoon to skim off a few scallions floating on top and poured them into my mouth. “It has been so long since I’ve had this.” “They are the best in Chinatown,” Matt said.
“Do you come here a lot?” I couldn’t stop myself from picturing him here with Vivian every night. “No, I almost never get to eat here. I know these guys because I used to wash dishes here, in the back.” When was that? “A while ago, just to earn a few extra cents when I wasn’t at the factory.” “Why didn’t you stand by tables?” “I still looked too young. And then I got the Italian delivery job.”
Part Two – Disk #1
Chinatown looked very much like Hong Kong, although the streets were less cramped. The fish store was piled high with sea bass and baskets of crabs; grocery store shelves were stocked with canned papayas, lichee nuts and star fruit; peddlers on the street sold fried tofu and rice gruel. I felt like skipping beside Ma as we passed restaurants with soy sauce chickens hanging in the window and jewelry stores that glittered with yellow god. I could understand everyone without any effort: “No, I want your best winter melons,” one woman said; “that’s much too expensive,” said a man in a puffy jacket.
Part Thirteen – Disk #8
The café was packed. Everyone there was Chinese. In those days, the cafes with the best good hadn’t been discovered by tourists yet, and if a white person did somehow venture in, the waiter called “Red beard, blue eyes” along with the order so that the cook could adapt the dish for Western tastes. We stood in a long line of people waiting to be served. A counter ran along the length of the wall beside us, crowded with people who wanted to place take-out orders. Several waitresses behind the counter were packing food in plastic cartons into bags.
“Ah-Matt, what are you doing, hiding here?” A short balding waiter was at Matt’s elbow, beaming at us. “Get out of there, follow me.” Despite the glares of the other patrons, we were pulled out of line and led to a small table at the end of the restaurant. Another waiter greeted Matt by name, then hurried over to clear off the dishes from our table. Matt grinned and said, “Thanks, ah-Ho. Hey, ah-Gong, don’t break any plates now.”
Our waiter glanced at me, recognizing that I wasn’t Vivian, but was too polite to say anything. Our bowls of wonton soup were large and filled with homemade noodles and tender pastry wrapped around meat. I used my spoon to skim off a few scallions floating on top and poured them into my mouth. “It has been so long since I’ve had this.” “They are the best in Chinatown,” Matt said.
“Do you come here a lot?” I couldn’t stop myself from picturing him here with Vivian every night. “No, I almost never get to eat here. I know these guys because I used to wash dishes here, in the back.” When was that? “A while ago, just to earn a few extra cents when I wasn’t at the factory.” “Why didn’t you stand by tables?” “I still looked too young. And then I got the Italian delivery job.”
Lesson 3 – First friend at school
Part Three – Disk #2
We had a test. Since I hadn’t been to class, I had no idea what it was about. Then I saw that we’d been given tables with figures and there was text above each one. There are three different basketball teams and each has played five games…. It took me a few minutes to try to understand what the world problems were asking, but then I figured out they were simply mean, median and mode problems mixed in with a few decimal problems. It was like unexpectedly running into old friends. They were doing subjects we’d covered in Hong Kong more than a year before.
However, I was still scared under Mr. Bogart’s eye. I misunderstood a sentence, then realized too late that I’d made a mistake and I had nothing to erase it with. Would he be angry if I crossed out my work? Probably. And then I wouldn’t have enough room for the new answer. I didn’t dare ask any of the other kids in case he would think I was cheating again. My only choice was to ask Mr. Bogart himself. I stood and walked to his desk. At least I knew what I had to say because this exact situation had been covered in one of my old English lessons.
“Excuse me, Sir.” I tried to enunciate clearly. “May I borrow a rubber?” He stared at me for a moment and a low titter swept through the classroom. One of the boys called, “Don’t your boyfriend have one?” At this, the entire class burst into laughter. Why? I wished my hair were long enough to cover my face.
Mr. Bogart’s face was flushed. He studied me as if trying to decide whether I’d disrupted his class on purpose. “That’s enough. Silence! Kimberly, return to your seat.”
Filled with shame for something I didn’t at all understand, I hurried back to my seat. I would leave school that day and never come back. Then the frizzy-haired girl leaned over. “It’s called an eraser here,” she whispered. She tucked a strand of her feathery hair behind her ear and pushed a pink eraser across the gap between our desk.
In the end, that day turned out to be a good one. I knew I’d gotten all the answers right on that test, even if I wasn’t sure I’d done the equations the way they’d been taught. Later, it turned out that the way I’d carried over numbers from the tens to the hundreds column, writing them down at the bottom of the equation instead of at the top, was not the American way to do it. Mr. Bogart took off some credit for this, so I didn’t get a hundred on that test, but I’d seen enough to know that a few minor adjustments were all I required for the next time. This was a fight where I actually had a change.
Even more important, I’d met Annette, the frizzy-haired girl. After the rubber incident, she subtly elbowed me. I glanced at her, then down at her notebook, where she’d written “Mr. Boogie” with a stick figure of Mr. Bogart, complete with a hole for a yelling mouth. I didn’t even know what a boogie was then, but I understood the intention and was delighted. Annette normally didn’t raise her hand in class - I think because she didn’t like Mr. Bogart - but she often knew the answer. Whenever he asked a question, she wrote the answer down on her notebook paper and showed it to me. Since I could read far better than I could speak, this way of communicating was idea.
And so Annette made school bearable for me again.
Part Three – Disk #2
We had a test. Since I hadn’t been to class, I had no idea what it was about. Then I saw that we’d been given tables with figures and there was text above each one. There are three different basketball teams and each has played five games…. It took me a few minutes to try to understand what the world problems were asking, but then I figured out they were simply mean, median and mode problems mixed in with a few decimal problems. It was like unexpectedly running into old friends. They were doing subjects we’d covered in Hong Kong more than a year before.
However, I was still scared under Mr. Bogart’s eye. I misunderstood a sentence, then realized too late that I’d made a mistake and I had nothing to erase it with. Would he be angry if I crossed out my work? Probably. And then I wouldn’t have enough room for the new answer. I didn’t dare ask any of the other kids in case he would think I was cheating again. My only choice was to ask Mr. Bogart himself. I stood and walked to his desk. At least I knew what I had to say because this exact situation had been covered in one of my old English lessons.
“Excuse me, Sir.” I tried to enunciate clearly. “May I borrow a rubber?” He stared at me for a moment and a low titter swept through the classroom. One of the boys called, “Don’t your boyfriend have one?” At this, the entire class burst into laughter. Why? I wished my hair were long enough to cover my face.
Mr. Bogart’s face was flushed. He studied me as if trying to decide whether I’d disrupted his class on purpose. “That’s enough. Silence! Kimberly, return to your seat.”
Filled with shame for something I didn’t at all understand, I hurried back to my seat. I would leave school that day and never come back. Then the frizzy-haired girl leaned over. “It’s called an eraser here,” she whispered. She tucked a strand of her feathery hair behind her ear and pushed a pink eraser across the gap between our desk.
In the end, that day turned out to be a good one. I knew I’d gotten all the answers right on that test, even if I wasn’t sure I’d done the equations the way they’d been taught. Later, it turned out that the way I’d carried over numbers from the tens to the hundreds column, writing them down at the bottom of the equation instead of at the top, was not the American way to do it. Mr. Bogart took off some credit for this, so I didn’t get a hundred on that test, but I’d seen enough to know that a few minor adjustments were all I required for the next time. This was a fight where I actually had a change.
Even more important, I’d met Annette, the frizzy-haired girl. After the rubber incident, she subtly elbowed me. I glanced at her, then down at her notebook, where she’d written “Mr. Boogie” with a stick figure of Mr. Bogart, complete with a hole for a yelling mouth. I didn’t even know what a boogie was then, but I understood the intention and was delighted. Annette normally didn’t raise her hand in class - I think because she didn’t like Mr. Bogart - but she often knew the answer. Whenever he asked a question, she wrote the answer down on her notebook paper and showed it to me. Since I could read far better than I could speak, this way of communicating was idea.
And so Annette made school bearable for me again.
Lesson 4 – A true gift
Part Four – Disk #3
A few days after the Western New Year, we found a true gift. Our regular route to the subway took us past a big building and one morning we saw some men working near its dumpster. Soon, they left and we saw what they’d thrown away: several rolls of the plush cloth used to make stuffed animals. The building must have been a toy factory.
We both stopped short, riveted by the sight of the warm material. “Maybe if we are very fast – “Ma began. “No, Ma. We can’t risk being late with Aunt Paula again,” I said. “We have to come back later.” Throughout the long way at the factory, Ma kept asking me questions. “Do you think other people would take something like that? Is there trash collection today?” The only answer I had for her was, “I don’t know.” It would be my fault if the material was gone by the time we could leave the factory that evening.
When we finally hurried out of the subway station and rushed to the toy factory, we saw that everything was still there. Ma laughed with joy at the glorious find. Yards and yards of material that could keep us warmer. Even though the cloth was fake fur, lime green and prickly, it was better than anything we had. The streets were deserted in the bitter cold but Ma and I made several trips to pull as many rolls out of the trash as we could and dragged them home.
Ma made us robes, sweaters, pants and blankets out of the toy factory cloth. She used it to cover parts of the floor and windows. She even made tablecloths out of it. We must have been a funny sight, dressed up at home as two large stuffed animals, but we didn’t have the luxury of minding. Since then, I have wondered if we would have survived the winter without that gift from the gods. The material was heavy and carpetlike, not having been intended as clothing, and when I slept under our new blankets, I woke with my limbs aching from the weight. However, at least they covered our entire bodies at once, unlike the piles of clothes we’d used in the past, and they were warm.
Part Four – Disk #3
A few days after the Western New Year, we found a true gift. Our regular route to the subway took us past a big building and one morning we saw some men working near its dumpster. Soon, they left and we saw what they’d thrown away: several rolls of the plush cloth used to make stuffed animals. The building must have been a toy factory.
We both stopped short, riveted by the sight of the warm material. “Maybe if we are very fast – “Ma began. “No, Ma. We can’t risk being late with Aunt Paula again,” I said. “We have to come back later.” Throughout the long way at the factory, Ma kept asking me questions. “Do you think other people would take something like that? Is there trash collection today?” The only answer I had for her was, “I don’t know.” It would be my fault if the material was gone by the time we could leave the factory that evening.
When we finally hurried out of the subway station and rushed to the toy factory, we saw that everything was still there. Ma laughed with joy at the glorious find. Yards and yards of material that could keep us warmer. Even though the cloth was fake fur, lime green and prickly, it was better than anything we had. The streets were deserted in the bitter cold but Ma and I made several trips to pull as many rolls out of the trash as we could and dragged them home.
Ma made us robes, sweaters, pants and blankets out of the toy factory cloth. She used it to cover parts of the floor and windows. She even made tablecloths out of it. We must have been a funny sight, dressed up at home as two large stuffed animals, but we didn’t have the luxury of minding. Since then, I have wondered if we would have survived the winter without that gift from the gods. The material was heavy and carpetlike, not having been intended as clothing, and when I slept under our new blankets, I woke with my limbs aching from the weight. However, at least they covered our entire bodies at once, unlike the piles of clothes we’d used in the past, and they were warm.
Lesson 5 – Perfect my English
Part Five – Disk #3
I had to perfect my English. Not only did I write down and look up the words I didn’t know in my textbooks, I started with the A’s in my dictionary and tried to memorize all the words. I made a copy of the list and stuck it to the inside of the bathroom door. I had learned the phonetic alphabet in Hong Kong and that made it easier for me to figure out how the words were pronounced, even though I still often made mistakes.
Our class went to the public library once a week and I always took out a stack of books, starting with the embarrassingly thin ones for little kids. I slowly worked my way up in age. I took these books with me to the factory and read them on the subway. Almost all of my homework was done either on the subway or at the factory. For the bigger projects, I caught up on Sundays.
By the time report cards were given out at the beginning of February, I wasn’t doing well but I was passing most subjects. I’d taken the national reading and math tests with the other kids but I didn’t know what the results were yet. On my report card, I got a few Satisfactories for Science and Math, a few Unsatifactories, and the rest were all Fairs.
In the comments section, Mr. Bogart wrote, “Kimberly must learn to apply herself with more effort. Please come see me at the PTA meeting. Submit dental note!” How were we supposed to pay for a dentist? I didn’t know what a PTA meeting was, but I wasn’t about to let Ma see any of this. I let her believe that we got report cards only once a year, at the end. I forged her signature, which was easy since I’d been signing her name since the beginning.
Part Seven – Disk #4
At the factory, I kept the radio on while we were working, and tried to grasp the main events, but the boiler was right next to our workstation and made a regular hissing sound, drowning out many of the words. There was so much vocabulary I didn’t know. Even when I could understand the sentences, I usually didn’t have enough background to understand most of the stories.
I managed in Life Science and Math because those subjects came naturally to me, but in my other classes it took me three times longer to read the textbooks in English than if they’d been in Chinese. I couldn’t skim at all. If my concentration sagged for even a moment, the sentence became incomprehensible and I had to reread the whole thing. Every few words, I had to look one up in the dictionary. Often, I could barely understand the questions. Let alone the answers I was supposed to be finding.
Part Five – Disk #3
I had to perfect my English. Not only did I write down and look up the words I didn’t know in my textbooks, I started with the A’s in my dictionary and tried to memorize all the words. I made a copy of the list and stuck it to the inside of the bathroom door. I had learned the phonetic alphabet in Hong Kong and that made it easier for me to figure out how the words were pronounced, even though I still often made mistakes.
Our class went to the public library once a week and I always took out a stack of books, starting with the embarrassingly thin ones for little kids. I slowly worked my way up in age. I took these books with me to the factory and read them on the subway. Almost all of my homework was done either on the subway or at the factory. For the bigger projects, I caught up on Sundays.
By the time report cards were given out at the beginning of February, I wasn’t doing well but I was passing most subjects. I’d taken the national reading and math tests with the other kids but I didn’t know what the results were yet. On my report card, I got a few Satisfactories for Science and Math, a few Unsatifactories, and the rest were all Fairs.
In the comments section, Mr. Bogart wrote, “Kimberly must learn to apply herself with more effort. Please come see me at the PTA meeting. Submit dental note!” How were we supposed to pay for a dentist? I didn’t know what a PTA meeting was, but I wasn’t about to let Ma see any of this. I let her believe that we got report cards only once a year, at the end. I forged her signature, which was easy since I’d been signing her name since the beginning.
Part Seven – Disk #4
At the factory, I kept the radio on while we were working, and tried to grasp the main events, but the boiler was right next to our workstation and made a regular hissing sound, drowning out many of the words. There was so much vocabulary I didn’t know. Even when I could understand the sentences, I usually didn’t have enough background to understand most of the stories.
I managed in Life Science and Math because those subjects came naturally to me, but in my other classes it took me three times longer to read the textbooks in English than if they’d been in Chinese. I couldn’t skim at all. If my concentration sagged for even a moment, the sentence became incomprehensible and I had to reread the whole thing. Every few words, I had to look one up in the dictionary. Often, I could barely understand the questions. Let alone the answers I was supposed to be finding.
More information about the author and her book, Girl in Translation.
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Online teaching material for this course
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Interview on YouTube:
Uploaded on 30 Jan 2012 Jean Kwok discusses how teachers can teach with her book Girl in Translation. Kwok's book explores themes of identity, immigration, friendship, family, labor, and coming-of-age. |
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Television documentary about GIRL IN TRANSLATION author Jean Kwok on YouTube:
Published on Jun 8, 2012Television documentary about GIRL IN TRANSLATION author Jean Kwok's life and work. See the true story behind the New York Times bestselling novel where a gifted schoolgirl leads a double life between the garment factory in Chinatown and an exclusive high school: visit where Jean grew up, hear an interview with the real-life inspiration for the characters of Annette and Mrs. Avery, see Jean's temple and schools. For more information: http://www.jeankwok.com |
Homework for week 1:
This video shows what an international students might experience as a second language learner. |
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Homework for week 2:
New York City - Video Tour of Chinatown, Manhattan (Chatham Square, MOCA & Columbus Park), uploaded on 9 Jul 2009 Today David Hill with New York Habitat http://www.nyhabitat.com is going to show you a fascinating New York neighborhood, Chinatown. Chinatown is located on the East Side of Lower Manhattan. Let's discover makes this area so special. |
Homework for week 3
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Homework for week 4
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Homework for week 5:
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The following are two examples of how this book, Girl in Translation, is used for teaching material.
Girl in Translation: A Teacher Toolkit
Retrieved from: http://resources.primarysource.org/content.php?pid=247181&sid=2164442 |
Prepared by Robert F. Cohen, Ph.D. Hostos Book-of-the-Semester Project Spring 2015
Retrieved from: http://commons.hostos.cuny.edu/bookofthesemester/wp-content/uploads/sites/18/2015/02/study_guide_sp2015.pdf |