This morning, I spent two hours 监考ing (proctoring) as my students sat for their English mid-term. This is the reason I haven’t really posted for the last two weeks, that I’ve not replied to as many emails as I ought to have, that I’ve been even more of a sugar fiend than usual. Two weeks ago was when we found out about this thing. We knew there'd be a mid-term, but we didn't know when. Thus, instead of teaching class at a normal pace, Mark and I spent two weeks absolutely scrambling to cram four lessons into a very, very short time. It was tense and annoying and meant extra classes (sometimes twice a day). My exam papers are currently sitting on my desk, awaiting my red pen, and I’m scared to even begin to look. The crowning jewel of this whole situation? Wednesday night, as I was running an extra class before our two-hour evening study, Mark walked into my classroom and informed me that he’d just been told the mid-term only covered lessons 1-4—not, as we’d thought, 1-6. At least it was before class, so I could plan an on-the-spot review session instead of shoveling more of lesson six down my students’ throats.
I’ve proctored my students’ 40-45 minute tests a few times since the beginning of the year, but this is the first time I’ve been in an all-day testing zone since last year. Elizabeth Hall International Elementary takes state testing very, very seriously. It’s a Title I school, and there’s always concern about not making AYP. Last spring, I spent four mornings sitting in the hallway outside the 3rd-5th grade hallway, listening to the eerie sound of silence (believe me, if you spent any time in this school you’d understand) and reading a book. I’d traded my normal tutor/mentor hat for that of monitor, assisting any teacher who opened his or her classroom door with a question or request. On the last of these four mornings, I noticed that I had a missed call and voicemail from a number that was in a really weird format. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt, I listened to the message, and uttered a miniscule squeak as I heard my CEI admissions offer. My co-worker, another hall monitor who’d been downstairs for a minute, came back up, and I hissed “I got it!” at him. Then I proceeded to bounce in my seat until such time as it was permissible to go back into the office and squeak for real.
Anyway, things have continued to be much better around here than they were before. Although I know it could always come back, I’d say that I’m officially out of my funk, which is a relief. I’ve still got life issues (like the sugar thing…. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained some weight and so I need to seriously cut back) and classroom issues (like constant chatter and my three kids who haven’t turned in homework since I can remember) and homesick issues (man, Minnesota autumn, how I miss you), but ultimately I feel more settled here and more content.
Now I have a few stories to share:
Learning How to Take a Compliment
So, this Monday all the seventh graders had to take an English test. I did not write this test, nor was I able to see a copy prior to the administering of the test, so I really didn’t know what to expect. After the test was over, the seventh grade English teachers all sat down to grade. There were several excellent questions, but this one definitely takes the cake. Mark and I were cracking up (probably not very nice, since the other teachers were there, but seriously….)
“Your watch is very nice.” A) No, it isn’t. B) Yes. C) Thank you.
No, no, China. Thank you. And thank you local teachers for not running the questions by, y’know, the native speakers in your midst.
Giving Locals a Taste of Their Own Medicine
I’m normally very nice about people staring at me and saying hello, but a couple weeks ago I was in the city, having embarked upon a wild goose chase to collect my parents’ package from the states. I had to find two post offices and try to explain my situation, and ultimately it wasn’t at either of them. (It’s arrived since—more on that in a bit.) As I was walking back across town to catch the bus home, I saw a group of what looked to be high school students clumped on the sidewalk ahead of me. As expected, they stared and giggled and a few pointed. I expected the customary “Hello” followed by even more giggles, but instead what I got was “Oh, 老外！老外！”
Laowai, or “old outsider,” is a very common term for foreigners in China, and I hear it a lot. Usually I don’t pay it much notice beyond, perhaps, a small smile, but these kids kept saying it over and over, whispering at first among themselves and then repeating more loudly as I grew closer. Finally I’d had it, and I replied. “老外？啊，中国人！怎么办？！？”(“Foreigner? Oh, Chinese people! What am I going to do?”) They just kinda stared in shock after that, and I continued along my way.
Now, like I said, I normally don’t get annoyed with locals’ fascination with me, but I guess I get annoyed when people assume I don’t understand anything that’s being said. I might not be able to follow a whole conversation, especially when said conversation is conducted in a dialogue other than Mandarin (an extremely common occurrence, here in the Bai region), but I understand key words. If I didn’t have at least some knowledge of how to speak Chinese, there’s really no way I could survive here. I’d be fine in Beijing or Shanghai, or even in Dali or Lijiang, probably, but you can’t live three kilometers from Heqing and expect to be able to do things like eat and get in and out of town without a half-decent Chinese level.
A Taste of Home
The elusive aforementioned package, when it eventually arrived, came not to the post office but to the school itself. This was very exciting, because it meant I didn’t have to carry it from town back home. Packages from the States are freakin’ expensive. My parents filled one of those large flat rate boxes, and it was fifty-five bucks. Needless to say, I don’t expect too many to come my way. Not wanting this to be a Christmas Morning-like experience of bunches of new stuff all at once followed by the “Oh, there’s nothing left under the tree” moment, I decided to make this package last. Hence, I’ve been taking out one goodie a day, and, since most of said goodies are relatively small, I’ve been able to do this for over two weeks. I have three things left, and I’m pretty sure they’re oregano, a book, and a box of tea. But we shall see.
So far I’ve taken out a book, a cami, a sweater, a pair of socks, vanilla extract, ground cinnamon, TWO containers of dried basil, cocoa powder (powdered gold, more like), stain stick, pictures I forgot to pack when I left, a CD from a dear friend that I can’t listen to ‘til December because it’s Christmas music, a card from my Mom that now lives on the ledge beside my bed, two boxes of Yogi tea, and some Shabbat candles along with my candlesticks. I got a little teary when I pulled those out. I’d missed my candlesticks, but I didn’t think to ask for them when I made my list. They live under my coffee table now, except on Friday nights (like this one), when they live on top of my coffee table and, burning brightly, remind me of people and places that I love.
I also got my first written correspondence—a postcard from the Grand Canyon, via Richmond, VA. It lives on my bedside table and makes me very happy indeed. Now that I know where both the Heqing post offices are, I need to write about a half dozen letters. Email’s awesome, and I honestly don’t know how I’d deal without it, but seeing people’s handwriting is awfully amazing.
A Halloween Huodong (Activity)
So every month the Heqing fellows get a 600 kuai budget for a fellow-organized activity. A different school’s in charge each month, and this one’s ours. Due to the fact that this gathering will be occurring tomorrow, we decided to go with a Halloween-like theme. I am quite excited indeed. Fellows from the other two schools will arrive in the mid-Afternoon and we’ll go on a walk or something around the area. Then we’re going to eat dinner, and then we’re going to have some excellent hangout time. This hangout time will include much chocolate cake, made by me tomorrow morning. This is great, because it lets me bake without feeling guilty for a) eating way too much, or b) spending money on baking supplies and then giving away everything I bake to other people. Right now, I’ve got like 60-70 kuai’s worth of Dove bars sitting in my kitchen. I’m going to try a chocolate layer cake with some sort of chocolate icing/glaze, made with neither butter nor powdered sugar. We'll see how it goes I’m also going to do an apple crisp demonstration/class after dinner tomorrow, so that other fellows might learn how to make this very easy stove-top dish in the comfort of their own homes. And YiMing, who’s currently in Dali, is buying candy so we can sorta go trick-or-treating. It should be fun for Chinese and American fellows alike. Now I just need a costume….
Social Times
YiMing’s birthday was on the 21st. He’s 27 now, making him almost four years older than me and ten years and a day older than my youngest sister. We took him out for dinner, and then later that night I made a cinnamon apple cake and we threw him a quasi-surprise party. This party resulted in all four Pengtun fellows sitting in Ma LiJun’s room, attacking my cake with a spoon, since we didn’t have proper plates, drinking relatively icky red wine that Ma LiJun enjoys, and just…chilling. The next night, we did the same thing (minus the cake and wine and plus tea). The second night, Yi Ming and Mark played chess while Ma LiJun looked at a book and I knit, all four of us chatting a bit, when suddenly we heard giggles and turned to see students peaking in through the slightly ajar door. Clearly they wanted to know all about the scandalous Friday night activities of these four young teachers, but somehow I doubt they came away with much of a story. Anyway, I wouldn’t go so far as to call our hangout a breakthrough, since it’s not like we’ve done this a thousand times since, but it was definitely a start, and I’m grateful.
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