Alright, so clearly I never posted the second part to my “adjustments” post. I do intend to write it at some point, but this week I started classes, and I’d rather write about that.
So, last Sunday night around 9:30 PM, we got our teaching schedules. I was lucky, because my first class was not until 11:15 Monday morning; I was unlucky because in addition to that morning class I was to teach a wanzixi (evening “self study”). Now, the translation of “zixi”—self study—would imply a study hall-like setting. No, no. While the “zaodus” (morning reading periods) and “wuzixis (lunch self studies) can be used as homework time, almost every teacher teaches during the wanzixi. For me, that meant needing to plan an extra hour and a half of class for the first day of school.
Schedules in China are different from schedules in the States, but then, what else is new? Basically, each class of students here at Pengtun (and at middle schools all over the country) makes up a “ban.” Rather than switching classes like their American counterparts, a Chinese ban owns a classroom for the course of the year, and the teachers switch room to room. That much I can sort of understand, although it is too bad that students are limited to one group of peers for all of their courses. What makes less sense to me is why the schedules are different every day of the week. For example, on Monday I teach in the late morning and I teach the evening study. On Tuesday I teach the morning reading period (from 7:10-7:45), first period (from 7:50-8:30) and third period (from 9:35-10:15). I don’t think there’s a single period of the day that I don’t teach at some point. At least I don’t teach Saturdays. The ninth graders only have Sundays off, but seventh and eighth graders get a full weekend. They even get out at 4:30 instead of 8:30 every Friday. But then they have to be back at 6:30 pm on Sunday. Fun stuff.
I really don’t know who thought up the idea of keeping these kids in school from 7:10 AM-8:30 PM (or 9:30 PM, for students who live here instead of at home). It’s crazy. Granted, they have a full hour and twenty minutes for lunch, and two hours for dinner, so students who live off campus can go home if they wish—but seriously, that’s still over nine hours in a classroom every day. Homework? Only a little, because when will they do it. Extra-curriculars? Faggedaboutit.
The classes are also quite large. Pengtun has the smallest class sizes of the CEI schools in Heqing, and I’ve got 48 kids. The classrooms are no bigger than the ones I worked in last year (in fact, they might be smaller), so there’s not exactly room for the kids to get up and move about. One disadvantage to not having a classroom of my own is not being able to arrange the desks how I’d like and stick bunches of stuff on the walls. As it is, the desks are in your classic rows. I do throw the kids for a loop though, pretty much daily, by making them swing around on their benches halfway through class and face the “back” of the room. In general, it’s abnormal for teachers to move past about the fourth or fifth row of students, so the fact that I not only circulate among all the desks but make the back kids the front kids is pretty revolutionary. But whatever.
I’m slowly (more slowly than I would like) getting used to having 48 students all at once. I think the most I’ve ever had to deal with before is about 25, maybe 30. I’m used to learning names in a day or two and knowing a good bit about each of my kids. It’s going to take me a lot longer to do that this time around. It would take me longer in any case, because of the language barrier, but the number of kids compounds the difficulty. Plus, with 48 kids it’s a lot harder to monitor cheating, and cheating runs rampant at my school. I mean, we’re talking every assignment, even the ones I very, very clearly state are not for a grade. I’m cracking down pretty hard—there are harsher penalties for cheating than for any other rule infraction—but it’s still really challenging to catch everyone and to get the kids to understand why they shouldn’t do it.
I suppose one of my biggest adjustments in general is remembering that I am, for the first time in my life, a real teacher. I have had so, so many informal teaching experiences, from camp counseling to tutoring to afterschool classes to being the unofficial but defacto sub in Chinese last year, that it’s hard for me to remember just how serious this is. This is planning with units and textbooks and province-wide tests in mind. This is keeping track of grades and forming my own assessments. This is taking 48 children, some of whom have never studied English before, and giving them a super strong foundation that will (hopefully) get them through the high school entrance exam in three years. To do this means not only teaching them the material effectively but getting them invested in it—making them excited about learning English and willing to put in the work it’ll take to do it well. In that sense it’s terrifying. Of course, school is important everywhere, and at every level, but if you’re teaching seventh grade Spanish in the States, you’re not contributing directly to whether or not your students will be eligible to attend school past ninth grade. I am. And I’ve been a “real” teacher for all of five days. Hoo-boy.
I’m definitely enjoying my students. On the first day, I let them all choose English names by picking three from a hat and then selecting their favorite. It’s pretty surprising how many of their names suit the personalities of the kids who selected them. Most of the names I let them choose among were people or characters that I know well. Not all of them got picked, of course, since I had about 10 more names per gender than I did students of each gender, but I’ve got my dad, a sister, an aunt and uncle, a cousin, a grandpa, college and childhood friends galore, professors/mentors from Mac, Harry and Lily and Ginny, Luke and Leia, Zoe and Simon and Serenity (the latter two of whom happen to sit next to each other), William and Leland (Adama) and Laura (Roslin), Alanna (of Trebond), Malia (as in first daughter Obama), etc. Am I a geek? Yes. But It’s pretty fun.
They’re a simultaneously shy and rambunctious group, so I’m having to push a lot of students to speak louder when they’re called on and to shut up when they aren’t. It’s a process, but I do think that most of them at least like me. It’s a start. I should have a year with them—possibly two, since it hasn’t yet been decided whether or not we’ll teach the same ban for eighth grade—so at any rate, I’ve got time.
Teaching aside, there’ve been several interesting elements to my life since my last post. The first is Lijiang. Lijiang is among the only cities in this area of Yunnan that tourists (both domestic and international) frequent. There was a major earthquake there in the 90s, and China rebuilt it to draw in outsiders. So there’s a large city with all of the modern amenities found in most Chinese cities of its size, and then there’s the “Old Town.” As someone pointed out last weekend, it’s interesting how all Chinese “Old Towns” seem to sell the same things. There were four kinds of main shops—skirts, tea, bags, and jewelry. There were also local specialties like woven scarves and shawls and walnut cakes. I did buy one of the scarves, and I also bargained for a bag, since I didn’t bring a medium-sized purse from the States. The Old Town did feel somewhat artificial, but it was also really pretty and nice to walk around, and although some of the homes were rebuilt after the quake there are others that have been around for centuries. I wouldn’t want to live there, but I can see myself spending a weekend there sometime later in the fall/winter, when I need to get out of Pengtun for a bit. (There are inns a-plenty, and they aren’t very pricey.) But yes, Lijiang has international tourists and an expat population. Thus, I saw my first non-CEI-affiliated Westerners since leaving Kunming well over a month ago. I was worse than the Chinese folks here in terms of my wide eyed staring. It was pretty funny.
We also went out for “Italian” food—CEI’s treat. The food wasn’t that good—the tomato cream sauce was nice, but my ravioli itself was pretty tasteless. Nonetheless, it was a really pleasant ambiance, with big, comfy chairs, wooden facades, a wine rack, etc. I got to use a fork and a knife…and a TOILET! Not a squat toilet, but an honest-to-God, Western sit down toilet. There was even toilet paper and soap in the bathroom. I honestly gasped when I walked in. I hadn’t used a toilet since Kunming either. It was very exciting indeed.
This week I also went into Heqing city by myself for the first time. It’s not far, but I’d still been nervous to take the bus in alone. I did on Thursday, and I found an awesome market where I bought really delicious things to cook with. Some lady even gave me a tomato, despite my attempts to pay her for it.
Oh yes. The cooking update. I am getting better at using a hot plate and a wok, but there is still much to learn. I did make a pretty excellent apple cinnamon coffee cake earlier this week, but today’s attempt at a chocolate/white marble cake was less than successful. It mean, it cooked fine, but it isn’t chocolaty enough in the chocolaty bits, and since I have no butter or vanilla extract the white bit is pretty bland. Oh well. In general, I’m getting frustrated with how many fewer palettes I’m able to play with here than in the States. I’m sure I will get good at preparing a lot of Chinese dishes, but I miss things like beans and rice and feta cheese (and cheddar cheese. And parmesan cheese. And cheese). I did, however, manage to find cumin powder last week, so that was exciting. Yay for spices.
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