Moral Ambiguity

Sometimes I think about what would happen if you put last July’s Emily Cohen and me into the same room. I’m the same person, if hopefully a little more mature and a little wiser and with a few more life skills, but there are things about me that have most definitely changed. There are stances I’ve taken and things that I’ve done that last summer’s me would never have considered. Some are rather ridiculous, like the fact that I, Emily Cohen, now wear eye-liner and lip gloss almost daily (nobody is more shocked than I, I assure you) so that my kids will think of me as a little older and thus take me more seriously. I also bake, knowingly, with bleached flour. Some are stupid and dangerous, like biking on mountain roads without a helmet (sorry, mom!), because bike helmets just don’t really exist in China, and perhaps not washing all my veggies as meticulously as I might. And some continue to make me wrestle, resigned but not content.

I remember so clearly during the very first week training reading an essay by one of Pengtun’s former fellows about corporal punishment in the classroom. He wrote eloquently about his personal moral struggle with how to handle behavior problems in a system that prizes physical over all other forms of discipline. He decided that he would bring students to the lead teacher and to the principal, where they would almost certainly be hit. Reading the essay, I remember understanding his logic and respecting his decision but firmly convinced that I would never, under any circumstances, make a similar call.

I have. I have on not just one or two but on a number of occasions. I’ve brought kids to the lead teacher. I’ve brought kids to the principal. I have grabbed kids by their upper arms and collars to make them stand up. I have collected lighters and knives by using pressure points. I’m not proud of any of this, but I’ve learned this year that there are times when, to a certain degree, it can be necessary to bend one’s personal ethics in order to better mold to and positively impact one’s environment. I know, I know, that sounds really bad, and where are the boundaries? Does allowing my kids to be hit this year mean that I’ll make the same decision regarding my own children in 10 years, or that if I end up teaching in the States I’ll wish I was allowed to strike my students?

I don’t think so. I remember conversations at the Minneapolis public school where I worked where teachers lamented phone calls to parents, because they knew that reports of bad behavior at school would result in hitting at home. Nonetheless, at school, there was no hitting. At school, there were other punishments, a system that maxed out with expulsion rather than slapping. There were also reward systems, a relatively new concept for my students. This year, I’ve implemented an extensive rewards system that’s been largely effective for my good kids but hasn’t succeeded in curbing bad behavior. For that, as it was with the teachers at my old school, I’ve needed punishments.

Since September, I’ve tried a plethora of American-style discipline techniques, ranging from seat changing to lectures to holding students back after class to texting parents to extra homework to sharing treats with only well-behaved students to kicking students out of the classroom into the cold in the middle of winter (I lived in Minnesota for five years. Yunnan cold is not cold). Some have been vetoed by the administration of my school, others by the lead teacher, leaving me with few options and even fewer that I’m capable of enforcing without help. Calling on this help risks corporal punishment for my impish students; not calling on it risks an utterly chaotic classroom for my engaged and dedicated students. I’ve come to the difficult decision that the latter is worse.

These kids have been hit by their teachers since they were in first grade—swats on the legs and top of the head for not paying attention, strikes on the hands for incomplete homework, being dragged by the ear or hair from classroom to office for bad behavior. Hitting is technically illegal, and hence it isn’t regulated. Although I’ve never witnessed this, I’ve heard stories of students slapped across the face, thrown to the floor, hit so hard they dropped out of school. My poorly-behaved students do not take my ‘lighter’ punishments seriously. If I were their only teacher I would probably have more success, but the 1-4 hours of the school day that are left in my care aren’t enough to mitigate the other 10-13 spent with hitting teachers.

I will never hit my students. I’m actually, according to CEI, not allowed to hit my students. I will, however, continue to bring my kids to teachers who take reports of bad behavior as cause for physical punishment. I have moral qualms with this, but I have deeper moral qualms with the notion of a few badly-behaved children keeping the other 40 from being a part of a classroom conducive to study. My students are products of their school environment, an environment that, unlike school environments in most of the United States, includes hitting. I don’t like it, but like so many other parts of rural education in China, I’ll work with it.

October Fading

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 3^rd-5^th 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 21^st. 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.

Happy 61st, China!

Yesterday was National Day, and thus we get time off. A whole week, as it turns out. Of course, our week off started yesterday, and we didn’t find out for sure we were getting a week until Wednesday, which made planning difficult. As it stands, Mark and Ma LiJun and I are leaving this afternoon for a village about 3 hours away and then deciding after a day or two there whether to venture elsewhere. I’m really excited. I’ve never done this sort of “follow the wind” travel before, but it should be fun. And Yunnan is so beautiful that I don’t doubt we’ll find cool things to see.

Yesterday, my first day off, I kept it local—doing a major room cleanup in the morning and then strolling out into the villages behind the school in the afternoon. My original plan was to find a back path to Heqing that I could walk along without fear of being hit by a tour bus or a tractor, but before long I stopped paying too much attention to where I was, rather just wandering indiscriminately. It’s worth noting that, when wandering rural China, you never really know where you’re going to end up or what you’re going to end up trekking upon. Yesterday’s walk encompassed nice, concrete, sidewalk-like roads; packed down dirt (and sometimes mud) paths; skinny, almost-dumping-me-into-the-rice-paddies trails; and straight up bush wacking. My tiva’d feet got a taste of the local stream, my bag picked up many friends in the form of burrs and needles, and I terrified/herded about 100 ducks before warranting the attention (and mercy) of a local farmer, who allowed me to cut through his courtyard to get back to the main road. It was, all in all, a quite lovely afternoon, despite the embarrassment and need for extreme foot washing. There are new pictures of my wanderings, as well as Lijiang and Dali, at http://anamericaninheqing.blogspot.com.

Today marks 11 weeks since my arrival in Yunnan. I wonder how long it’ll take the weeks to add up enough that I stop counting and default to months. I have been teaching for a month now, officially. In some ways it feels longer, but I still have quite a lot I need to improve upon. The kids will have their first “Monthly Test” shortly after the break. These tests are modeled off of the prefecture and regional tests students are subjected to on a quarterly basis, and they are really, really dumb. So far, my students have learned the alphabet, a few simple greetings, ways to introduce themselves and others, and a few scattered colors and nouns. Everything I’ve taught them (with a few exceptions for classroom commands like “stand up”) is in their textbook. There are other things in the book like acronyms (because BBC and UFO are really terms that first year English students need to know), and I’ve been putting those things aside in the interest of teaching them, y’know, practical English. Unfortunately, China and I do not see eye to eye on what constitutes practical English. Thus, if I want my kids to pass their test, after the break I will need to spend significant time teaching them things that absolutely are not important to first year English study. It’s quite frustrating, but everything from here builds to the end-of-ninth-grade Zhong Kao. If they don’t pass that, they don’t go to high school, so I have no choice but to bite the bullet as far as content and test prep are concerned.

I’ve been in a slump since getting back from Dali—more homesick and less motivated than usual. I’m really hoping this is just a short thing that I’ll snap out of soon, but I don’t know.

Last night, I watched “Beauty and the Beast” in Chinese. It was glorious—classic Disney fun with the added benefit of me being able to write down some vocab words. I intend to do quite a bit of Chinese Disney watching in the future.

Anyway, that’s all for now, folks. I’ll post about my 2-5 day adventures upon my return.