China Birthday

I’m 24 years old. I’m in my mid-twenties—no longer a fresh-out-of-college 22-year-old but a 2-year veteran of the “real world” (whatever that means).

As with so many other stages in life, I’ve reached this point only to realize that “wait, I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

I have a clear memory of little 2^nd-grade me walking up the stairs of Mary Munford Elementary School, gazing at the gargantuan fifth graders up ahead, and knowing, without a lick of doubt, that these kids understood what was going on. They had everything all figured out.

Only, then, one day, I was a fifth grader, and there was still a lot I didn’t get. But middle schoolers, they were sure to understand it all. …Nope.

Well, perhaps once I was in high school and knew how to drive, or perhaps once I got to college, or got to be a senior in college, or graduated from college, or went to live on the other side of the world…. Oh. So all the wisdom and knowledge of adulthood doesn’t just show up one day?

Shucks.

Anyway, I’ve celebrated my last several birthdays away from my family, but this was my first time celebrating abroad, and, because I have a summer birthday, it was also my first time celebrating on a regular old workday. Hence, much of my day didn’t feel all that birthday-like. I’d told my students that I wanted my present to be good behavior, but for my first two classes that was apparently too much to ask. I got to skype with a friend for about ten minutes during the afternoon, and Malijun gave me a beer, but but frankly, I was pretty mopey until after my 3 o’clock class.

I still had a couple of hours before my evening marathon class, so I decided to bike into town for bubble tea and also pick up a bar of chocolate to supplement the ghiradellhi Mark was kind enough to bring me back from America. I made a rice cooker cake. Specifically I made a mint mocha cake (chocolate with hints of mint and coffee) with a thin coffee frosting/filling between the two layers and a bailey’s (again, courtesy of Mark) chocolate glaze over top. It was, unfortunately, rather ugly when done, so no pictures. But it was darn tasty.

The first half hour of the evening class was its usual self—reviewing vocabulary and the like. Then, after the five-minute break, we went outside and spent the next half an hour playing basketball against Yiming’s class.

Class 82 has major troublemakers who happen to be talented basketball players. Despite a rule stating that only two of my class’s top five players could be on the court at any moment, we crushed the opposition. Meanwhile, I took pictures of my kids (whether they wanted to be photographed or not). Here we have Mike and Zach, and Laura and Sam (Samantha, she now insists, after the mortifying discovery of Sam listed in the textbook as a "boy's name").

Yiming’s class went in at 7:30, and we stayed out until 8. (I’d decided over the weekend that I might have an evening class on my birthday, but I was not going to spend the whole two hours fighting my students into being quiet and listening while we covered real content.)

Some of my kids opted to keep playing basketball, and a few asked if they could go back to the classroom and do homework, but I managed to corral the rest into learning all about the very important American staples of duck duck goose, octopus tag, and red rover. It was silly and fun. After I shepherded them back inside, I saw that the trustworthy girls I’d allowed to go in early and start their homework had,

in fact, decorated the entire blackboard with birthday wishes. The

class sang me happy birthday in English and Chinese. I got presents from two students and notes from a few more (see pictures of presents. They are epic things, they are). Touched, I thanked them profusely. Then it was homework time. Most kids were tired enough from all the running around that they either buckled down into work or at least kept quiet so their classmates could. All in all, it was a lovely class.

After the bell rang, I headed back to my room. Mark had candles leftover from Malijun’s birthday a few weeks ago, so I stuck them in my cake and got the gang over. Yiming’s girlfriend, who was visiting from Hong Kong, made a small fruit salad, and Yiming gave me a plant that’s currently sucking up sunshine on my windowsill. We ate the cake (sadly for me, no leftovers remaining), and just relaxed for a little while before splitting up so we could all get work done for Tuesday morning. It was not a typical American birthday, perhaps, but that doesn't mean it wasn't memorable.

Silkworms, Steak knives, Crawfish, and other Adventures of May

My room has gotten a little more crowded lately.

First of all there’s Saffton. Saffron is my silk worm. You see, last week Peter was playing with something in his desk. That isn’t at all unusual, but normally he’s messing with a pocketknife and a stick or trying to surreptitiously swigging of pepsi. On that day, however, he happened to have in his possession something else entirely—a rather large, white worm. He held it up as if hoping to scare me and then set it on his desk, wherefrom I plucked it, and, ignoring the screams of my female students, walked it over to the windowsill. I stuck it there, but it didn’t seem too happy, so at the end of class I took pity and brought her back to my room. I found out that she was a silkworm from Yiming. Malijun shrieked, pronounced it scary and ugly, and ran away. Silkworms only eat mulberry leaves. Luckily, there are several mulberry bushes quite near the school, so I ventured out once every couple days to get her a new stash. Over the weekend she built a cocoon, so in a week or two I should have my very own moth. Unfortunately, the moths only live for a few days and can’t eat or fly. Still, pets are good.

I wish Saffron was my only pet, but this is apparently fly season, which means that there are not 1 or 2 but rather at least a dozen flies buzzing about my room. This is the punishment, I suppose, for having a room that cannot ever be completely closed off from the outside. They like my computer. There are three on it as I type—no, make that four—and I’ve grown accustomed to the little colony that forms on the edge of my keyboard. Fun times.

Speaking of fun times, I’ve collected, over the course of this year, quite a few knives from my students. Most are of the pocketknife variety and are not particularly scary. Two nights ago, however, I pulled from William’s desk, despite his best efforts to divert me from it, a full-fledged steak knife. He was only cutting up the desk and not his classmates, which I suppose is a plus, but it nonetheless caught me somewhat off-guard.

As if that wasn’t enough, yesterday I walked into class to find a very big, very much alive crawfish on my desk. The boys who’d put it there tried to snatch it back, but I held onto it and brought it to the lake after class ended.

When we first arrived in Heqing last August, we had nary a day of sunshine in a good month. I remember seeing patches of blue in early October and being amazed by them. We’re heading back into the rainy season now, so there’re a lot of days that range from brightest sun to rainclouds and back. I’m taking as much advantage of the non-rainy weather as possible, biking into town a few times a week and going on walks and the like. I’ve discovered a way to town that goes along village roads instead of the main ones. There’s prettier scenery and less traffic. There’s also a whole lotta straw and other plants on the road. This is apparently the time of year when the farmers beat the seeds from last season’s crops, and to take some of the work out of the process they often lay the plants out so cars and motorcycles and people will dislodge the seeds.

Last Saturday, Mark and I went to visit three of my students in their village, about a half hour bike ride away. We didn’t know exactly how to get there and ended up biking through a lot of fields and, on more than one occasion, having to half drag, half carry our bikes between fields over these rather precarious ladder/bridge contraptions.

The thing about Chinese villages is that there are not street names or, often enough, distinctive homes and landmarks. It’s mostly a lot of fields and dirt or cement roads. Thus, when we finally reached the village, I called Malia to ask where to meet her, only to discover that clear directions weren’t in the forecast. Luckily, we stumbled upon an eighth grader from our school who guided us, on her own bike, to Malia and Molly.

The visit was fun. I got to see three of my students’ homes and get a tour of their village. They were really excited to see me outside of school too.

We’re kinda-sorta-a little bit coming into the home stretch. I have three units of new material left, followed by review time. This semester is much less demanding, time wise, than the last, when Mark and I were absolutely scrambling to fit everything in by the end. School goes until sometime in July, but whether it’s the 10^th or the 20^th or even later is still very much uncertain. This made buying a ticket home difficult, but I did. July 25^th. Beijing to Atlanta. I am ever so excited. In the meantime, I’m trying to get as much out of these final two months as possible. I may be ready to go home, but I also know that this is in some significant respects the most extraordinary circumstance I’m likely to find myself in for years.

For now, it’s Friday afternoon, which means a major room cleanup, reading time, and perhaps a trip into town for bubble tea and groceries. Weekends are good. I'm going to try to get a new batch of pictures up soon, so stay posted.

My Kids Need Glasses

This is Andy. No, he doesn't always have that deer in the headlights look. I took these shots on the first day of class so I could learn their names. It was day one of middle school and day one of being taught by an American teacher, and naturally a lot of them looked pretty silly.

Anyway, he's a good kid. Not the brightest bulb in the box, so to speak, but he's usually paying attention during class and does his homework about half the time. He seems to like English, when he's not too tired to focus on it. I feel bad, because he's got a pretty thick accent and I usually have a difficult time understanding his Chinese, but, at any rate, he's a good-natured soul and I'm rather fond of him.



This is Andy during class. No, he's not sleeping, although he does from time to time. Usually I tap him on the shoulder and say "Andy," and he looks up blearily and smiles sheepily, as seems appropriate for the sensation of opening one's seventh grade, rural Chinese eyes to the sight of one's very not Chinese English teacher.

No, this is Andy trying to take notes. Andy, you see, has terrible eyesight. He sits in the front row but still can't read the board. Andy has glasses, but they don't do him much good, it would seem. I asked him how old they were and he didn't seem sure how to answer.

Andy needs new glasses. I'd like to buy some for him, but I don't really know how to do that, and, even if I could pay for them, I'm not sure it'd be appropriate to give a student something so (relatively) expensive. Instead, I'm wondering if any of you fine folks who follow or stumble upon my blog know anything about organizations or other means of acquiring glasses of the proper prescription both for Andy and for some other kids. He's the extreme case in my classroom, but he's not unique. I bet across the school there are dozens of students whose grades could improve dramatically if they could, y'know, see.

Monday Musings

It's funny how, when you're a teacher, you can spend so very long writing a lesson plan, or filling in a behavior chart, or painstakingly cutting photocopied dollar bills from the confines of their white borders, and have absolutely no idea if your work will pay off. As it stands, I've planned my classes for the next day and a half and have until the end of the week sketched. This is pretty darn good; I'm a rather last-minute planner, for the most part, and as a less than detail-oriented individual, going from rough sketch to fleshed-out plan (with points A, B, C, etc) always requires effort. Luckily, on Monday afternoons we have faculty meetings, a multi-tasker's paradise, during which I half-heartedly listen and whole heartedly scribble away all the intricacies behind such phrases as "Come to visit Bridge Street," and "Take a walk through the park." Our current unit is on, you guessed it, directions and neighborhoods. It should perhaps be pointed out that I still struggle with directions in Chinese, and French, and every other foreign language I've taken. Those pesky little prepositions. And imperative sentences. Woof. I'm doing my best to keep things simple to remember and prod my students along without driving them, or myself, to frustration.

I feel in some ways as though I'm back in college-- never done with work, and always concerned, to some degree, with whether or not I'm doing things right. I guess that's common to many jobs. It's not the best feeling, and having a group of 46 students to critique me two or three times a day can be a bit wearing. Last year was hardly a no pressure zone, but I felt like my job ended when I walked in my front door after a day's work; things were compartmentalized, and although I thought and talked about my students a ton (as I'm sure both my former housemates would attest), work was a part of a well (or at least better)-rounded life. In Pengtun, work is life. In college, work was life too, but work was generally more fun. I miss it, and I'm really excited to start grad school, if I can get in, in Fall 2012.

My students are rather unpredictable, growing more-so by the day. A lesson plan that might keep them quiet and engaged one morning could lead to utter chaos the same afternoon. My kids all know the phrase "Everybody. Shut. Up. Now!" Oops. At least they don't know that it's any worse than "Everybody quiet!" Nonetheless, I've been trying to supplant it with "Simmer down!" (I figure that whatever phrase they associate with me being loudest and widest-eyed will be the one they try to replicate, and both because I don't want them telling each other to shut up and because I think the notion of rural Chinese kids telling one another to "simmer down" is hilarious, that's my new angle.) I've tried shouting, whispering, kicking kids out, storming out myself, ignoring bad behavior, bringing poorly-behaved students to school administrators, etc. My current rewards system, using the aforementioned fake American money, has been working relatively well for the good kids, but unfortunately isn't curbing rotten behavior. Only hitting seems to do that so far, and as I'm not allowed to implement that, well....

As much as I appreciate the differences from my life in the States, I also appreciate what I can keep the same . Desk, computer, school books, notebook, warm beverage (usually green tea, but I got so much lovely American stuff in my holiday packages that I've been favoring chai and cocoa lately). Often enough, streaming MPR (that's Minnesota Public Radio for you uninitiated folk) or some other music. Lesson planning, yes, but comfy lesson planning.

December 17th

It’s December 17th, 2010. (My kids actually just learned how to say that. Supposedly, at least.) I don’t remember what I was doing on December 17th, 2009 or on December 17th, 2008, but December 17th, 2007 was quite literally the longest day of my life.

December 17th, 2007 began with karaoke. There was a student deal for the place near my campus in Beijing: if you entered after midnight, you could have a room for 60 kuai a person until 6 AM. So, around 12:30, my American friends and I made our way over to meet up with our Chinese roommates. Our roommates had moved out of the dorms the previous day, but we all wanted to see one another once more before heading home. We sang, we danced, we hugged, we took pictures aplenty, and, around 4, we started wandering back to our dorms to catch a couple hours sleep.

The morning was full of last-minute packing, a cab ride to the airport, and hours of waiting. Many of the kids in my study abroad program were on the same flight to Chicago, from where we’d split up for our domestic legs. We left Beijing in the afternoon and got to Chicago, according to the clocks, a couple hours later. In China, of course, it was already the next day. The flight was a bit delayed, and customs took awhile, so after I got through and transferred to the domestic terminal, I only had enough time to grab a tall-skim-lite-whip-peppermint-mocha at a Starbucks kiosk before boarding my next plane. America hit me in all of its holiday glory (and a huge boost of caffeine).

The flight to Atlanta I don’t remember in the slightest, but I do remember finding my parents. They were waiting for me at the place where most people exit security. My plane, however, had landed elsewhere, so I came up on them from behind. We drove home. I went to sleep eventually. It had been December 17th for almost 36 hours. Christmas Eve was a week later. I felt I’d been gone for so long, and I was happy to be home.

It’s December 17th, 2010. I’ve been in China for just over five months—almost a month and a half longer than my entire semester abroad—and I’m not on a plane right now. I’ll be on a plane in a month, but that plane will be to Thailand (!) and I’ll be back here about 5-6 weeks later for another semester that won’t end until mid-July.

It’s hard to be gone during the holidays. I’ve skipped Thanksgiving a lot, and there have been years when, due to how early Hanukkah’s fallen, I’ve been at school the whole time. But I’ve never skipped Christmas. Yes, I realize that I’m Jewish and that I’m considering rabbinical school, but Christmas to me has never been a religious thing. Christmas is fresh pine needles, our Christmas Eve candlelit tea party (more aptly described as a cookie party, though, to be fair, we do always have a cup or two of tea with our huge platefuls of sweets), singing carols around the piano (yes, we actually do that), being woken up by my sisters and tiptoeing to the living room hearth to experience that once-a-year feeling of a fully stuffed stocking.

I’m still not sure what I’m planning on for grad school (it’s down to either Rabbinical School or a masters and maybe Ph.D in early American history), but I do know that people matter to me more than I’d realized before. For a variety of reasons, I’m not visiting the States over the semester break, but once I get back home more permanently I’m going to make a much greater effort to travel and see people I care about. Obviously finances and obligations like school/work will make it impossible for me to travel whenever and wherever I like, but I’m considering trying to live within driving distance of my folks, and, if I have a year before grad school, I’m determined to spend it somewhere where I already have family or at least one close friend.

Although I won’t be home for Christmas this year, nor will I be alone. All of the Heqing fellows are headed to (surprise surprise) Dali, where some Lincang fellows will apparently be rendez vousing as well. I’m sure it’ll be a nice weekend, that we’ll eat good food (like cheese!) and walk around and enjoy ourselves. The Heqing fellows are doing Secret Santas as well, so that’s always fun. Our big break, however, doesn’t come until mid-January, so it’ll be back to school on Monday December 27th. I suppose in the states there are plenty of people in a similar boat who won’t get a month off later, so I still consider myself quite lucky.

There’s no doubt that I’m doing better here than I was a couple months ago. My language still isn’t improving at the rate I’d like, in my classroom I’m still having discipline and motivation programs galore, and relationships with the other teachers are rather slowly forming, but I know there’s been progress. Ultimately, I see next semester as a chance to start again, at least with my kids. There are some things I really, really need to establish better, and I think a new semester will be a great chance to do that. For now, I’ve got just shy of a month to get through two and a bit more units and review like crazy for the Final. Earlier this week, I made each kid write down his or her goal for the Final and gave them my goals. Surprisingly, most of my students seemed to get what I was after, aiming neither too high nor too low. I made them write their goals before I showed them the ones I had in mind for each of them, and most were within 10% of each other. We’ll have to see how it goes. The Mid-Term was a disaster grade-wise, but I’ve changed my teaching and testing styles fairly dramatically since, so hopefully that will prove helpful.

This weekend will mostly be a working one, but I’ve got Christmas music galore, I’ve bookmarked “Love Actually” on one of the movie streaming sites here, and I’m learning how to knit toe-up socks. I’m also greatly anticipating not one or two, but, at last count, four holiday packages currently winging their way across the Pacific. I am so loved. And once I get my parents’ peppermint extract, peppermint hot chocolate and mochas are so happening.

Why I (Pengtun 7th Grader) Want to Study

First of all, I posted two new batches of pictures—one a general update of the last couple months (Yes, crazily enough it’s been that long), the other a compilation of some of my cooking/baking adventures. Both can be found at http://anamericaninheqing.shutterfly.com. Enjoy, and onto the main event:

About a month ago I made all my student write me essays, in Chinese, about why they wanted or didn’t want to study. The kids weren’t doing their homework and weren’t really studying much in general, and I wanted them to reflect on how they were doing and how they could do better and why any of it mattered. When I gave directions, I reiterated, oh, about fifty times, that I wanted them to write how they really felt and not what they thought I wanted to hear. Some of my kids seem to have taken that to heart and others not, but, at any rate, here’s a list of reasons for studying, courtesy of rural Chinese 12-14 year olds and my translation/paraphrasing skills. (Commentary, naturally, can be found in the parentheses next to each reason.)

-“I can get lots of knowledge” (This was the first sentence of many an essay, so I guess getting lots of knowledge is rather important to these youngsters.)

-“There are opportunities to get to know teachers and classmates.” (And beat up classmates, and pass notes to classmates, and laugh at classmates….)

-“I can understand life principles.” (Not sure exactly what you’re getting at there, but I appreciate the thought)

-“I can understand English and the differences between English and other languages.” (Impressive, Molly, impressive….)

-“Because Zhou Enlai said so—you should study for the people and devote yourself to the motherland.” (Motherland—a new and useful word for the Chinese vocabulary of Emily Cohen)

-“I want to repay my parents and my teacher. I can’t fail them.” (A common sentiment in theory, but, unfortunately, a lot of my kids still fail to study enough to repay anybody. And yes, Amy, that includes you.)

-“Studying changes destiny.” (Go forth, young padawan, and control your destiny.)

-“Now is the information age.” (Perhaps so, Peter, but I’m not entirely sure how your English textbook is helping you play with the internet.)

-“Studying makes me smarter. We should all value time and want knowledge.” (And yet in class you seem to most enjoy sleeping and goofing around with your little friends….)

-“I can expand the limits of knowledge” (Not your knowledge, Jake, but knowledge in general? That’s lofty of you.)

-“Everyone only has one life and to make it more valuable we should study more knowledge.” (And then do what with it, exactly?)

-“Knowledge is important for the whole society and so I don’t become a stupid person.” (Yes, William, it is. Unfortunately, you spent half of tonight’s evening class with your eyelids flipped inside out, looking at the wrong page of the text book. So you might need to work a tad bit harder on that front.)

-“Knowledge allows us to understand more things so that when we grow up our lives will be more wonderful.” (I would like a more wonderful life. How does one go about achieving that?)

-“Everyone should respect the nine years of compulsory education.” (I believe you already do, Zoe, but, please, get the rest of your class on board)

-“Education is everyone’s right and everyone has to go to school.” (And yet, Freddy, you seem to most enjoy far-from-subtle whispered conversations with friends halfway across the room)

-“Studying is our wish and our duty. It’s an activity that delights us and makes us happy.” (I’m sure it does, Sophie, especially when you cheat on every other test.)

-“Books are our best friends and our best teachers.” (I thought that was dogs?)

-“I’m stupid, so I like to study and I like your class.” (Well, Barry, I’m not really sure how those connect, but good for you)

-“When we start middle school our thoughts are more mature than in elementary school and we should know that our reason is to learn knowledge, not play.” (Ellen, considering that your current average is around a 90%, I’d say you’re doin’ pretty well on that front)

-“Science and technology are really developed and connected to life.” (Sure, Nate. This connects to English how exactly?)

-“I don’t want to study because I’m afraid of your bad list of names and responding incorrectly.” (Leia, sweetie, you are not the smartest child in the world but I know you care because you always do your homework and when I ask easy questions you very shyly but hopefully raise your hand. You will never get on my nonexistent bad list of names.)

-“My ideal is to work in America, so I must study.” (Yes, Alanna, and stop cheating. Because, you see, if you only pretend you can speak English when you get to America you might have some problems.)

-“We can have contact with the world, impact society, and understand a lot.” (True, Mike, true.)

-“To get good grades and make the teacher happy.” (Y’know what would make me happy, River? If you’d do your freakin’ homework and not do homework for other subjects when you’re in my class!)

-“Go to college and make foreign friends.” (Miguel, you are a smart kid, and if you tried you could almost certainly get to college. However, you are also insane, so I’m not sure how that’s all gonna work out for you.)

-“Because I want to lay foundations for the future and not be illiterate.” (Luke, I don’t want you to be illiterate either, and English can help you lay foundations for the future, but somehow I don’t think it’s gonna help your ability to read Chinese all that much.)

-“To increase culture.” (Hate to break it to you, Amelia m’dear, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me there. Whose culture are we talking here?)

-“Without English we have no future.” (This would be funny, Ariel, if it wasn’t more or less true, at least as far as education is concerned. English is worth more on your high school entrance exam than any other subject, and you, unfortunately, are averaging a 25% on your tests.)

-“I don’t like to study English, but it’s important for testing.” (Yes, Connor, it is. And I think its importance is stupid, but unfortunately I don’t control the tests.)

-“To get knowledge, wealth, and happiness for myself and my family.” (Laura, considering that you are among my very best students, I’d say that’d a distinct possibility.)

-“The most afraid people in the world are the people without knowledge.” (You must be positively terrified then, Leland, considering how many of my classes you sleep through.)

-“Studying can change impulsive hearts, sharpen dull hearts, and get hearts that know nothing to know lots. It gives people meaning.” (From most students, I’d just think this was weird, but from you Sam, I’ll actually take it at face value.)

-“Because teachers teach lots, especially foreign teachers.” (Is this a good thing for you, Serenity, or a bad thing? At any rate, that is my goal. To, y'know, teach lots.)

"Who Needs a Master Key When You Have a Good Snap Kick?" and Other Stories

Here is what I’m wearing right now:

Sweatpants, a T-shirt, a knock-off North Face fleece, heavy socks, excellently absurd slippers with blue cows on them, a relatively thick hat, and freshly-knit wrist warmers (made with my first ever bought-in-China yarn).

Did I mention that living in a concrete box can get kinda cold?

We’ve come to the point in the year where, outside, sunny weather quite often means pleasant conditions and cloudy weather quite often means misery. Unfortunately, even with the curtains open, not much warmth trickles indoors. Hence my evening attire being what it is. Don’t worry; there are still layers to be added, but having been Minnesota-trained for the last five winters, I know better than to throw them all on at once the moment it gets chilly. I haven’t turned on my space heater yet (I’m aiming for post-Thanksgiving), and I have fleece PJs awaiting me.

So it’s been a good long while since my last post, mostly because my weekends have been busier than usual, and weekends are usually when I get my blogging in. But this weekend is apparently five days long and will be followed by a marathon nine days of class. Excited I am not, because we found out about our vacation a grand hour before it started, and hence there wasn’t exactly time to plan for travel. We’re probably heading to Dali for a couple days. Most of the other places of note within three hours of us are too chilly ‘til the spring, and we don’t fancy a long trip to somewhere like Kunming, because we had two ten hour bus trips last weekend (more on that in a moment). I shudder to think of how I will feel on Friday December 3^rd, after going from the night before Thanksgiving (weeks always begin with the evening class) without a day off. But what can you do?

Anyway, here are some stories of good, bad, and just plain random times in rural Yunnan.

Gate Crashers

One Saturday morning, Hallie and Arianne thought it’d be nice to ride their bikes up to the spring near our school and hang out. Mark and I, being only twenty or so minutes away, walked over to meet them. Upon arrival, Mark and I looked around for our American friends and were instead greeted by a chorus of “Good Morning, Ms. Emily!” from a gaggle of girls.

“Are those mine or yours?” I asked Mark, puzzled. He didn’t know whose students they were either, and as we drew closer it turned out the answer was neither. These were eighth graders from the area’s top middle school, and they knew who we were because they had already thrust birth

day cake and lollipops onto Hallie and Arianne. Before we had time to utter more than a “Oh, you don’t have to give us cake!” the two of us received the same treats.

The next hour or so was mostly consumed by slightly successful attempted conversation with the girls, followed by a hugely successful silly string fight (during which Arianne was pretty well walloped), followed by the washing of hair, in the spring, to remove said silly string.

Reunion

Last weekend, the reason we had two 10-hour bus trips in three days was because of this year’s first Professional Development Conference. All fifty-whatever CEI fellows congregated for about a day and a half of discussions and trainings aimed to help us work better in and out of the classroom. Since all but three of the CEI schools are in Lincang, rather than Heqing, we Heqingers got to/had to make the trek back down. That part wasn’t so bad. We got two mini van-sized cars to take us all and spent most of the time chatting and sleeping and occasionally playing word games. The conference itself was more useful than I thought it would be. There was some annoying bureaucracy involved, as always, but some of the discussions about class planning and classroom management and integration into school life were genuinely helpful.

More importantly, it was awesome to connect with everyone again after almost three months apart. Our situations are alike in that we’re all dealing with challenged populations, and the American fellows all have some sort of language barrier, but of course every school and every team of fellows is different, and the casual chats/rants about individual schools were great. I was also able to start probing into people’s plans for our month off in January and might—fingers crossed—be putting some things into motion. Details to come when I’ve got ‘em.

On the somber side, being with everyone really hammered in for me how much I wish I was closer to other folks. I like this place, but the 6-10 hour distance from other places stinks. Case in point: if I weren’t 6-10 hours away from everyone, guess where I’d go visit this weekend?

Who Needs a Master Key When You Have a Good Snap Kick?

This story is actually super old news, but I forgot to write about it and it’s way too good to not share.

Sometime in October, I left my room with a key-shaped lump in my pocket, pulled my door closed, went to the bathroom, and traipsed back up to my room only to find that the lump was, in fact, a wadded up post-it. Oops.

Not really sure what to do, I was lucky to immediately run across the teacher who lives next door to me coming up the stairs. She got the maintenance guy. Prepping my very best “不好意思” (I’m sorry/Oh, I’m so embarrassed) face, I got ready to thank him profusely for walking up here to unlock my door. Thus, I was puzzled when, rather than taking out a master key, or a set of keys, he started examining my (very much closed and locked) window. At this point, I was beginning to suspect that there was, in fact, no master key, and that the only two keys to my room were both inside. How this could possibly be the case made no sense to me, as in the city you can find key copying people on many a street corner, and copies cost 2-3 kuai a piece.

Anyway, at that point another teacher arrived, and Ma LiJun came out to help me translate. Her services were swiftly rendered unnecessary as the other teacher’s foot engaged in the cross-cultural language of kicking—kick

ing out my lock, that is. The maintenance guy then spent an hour replacing and installing a new one. Of course, they had all the parts necessary to replace a whole lock. The next time I went into the city, I got copies made, so I now have my own “master key” in the form of four keys—one to carry around, one spare in my room, and two in Mark and Ma LiJun’s rooms. And I still have an awesome footprint on my door.

My Kids are Crazy!

This is less an anecdote than an ongoing saga, but these last few weeks have been particularly notable behavior-wise. Heqing students are, generally speaking, closer to sane than some of their Lincang-ian counterparts. I have never had a student set a desk or his/her own hair on fire in the classroom, and I’ve never caught a student coming to class drunk. At other CEI schools, this has in fact happened. But the Pengtun kids are, on the whole, the least cooperative of the three Heqing schools, and hence we’ve got our own issues. Mostly, these issues arise in the form of talking—lots and lots of talking. Then there’s cheating—lots and lots of cheating. On their Unit 5 test a week ago, I caught no fewer than ten students talking or cheating. Not fun.

The problem is that these kids are very much used to being hit, and I will neither hit them myself nor send them to be disciplined by teachers who will hit them. Thus, my own discipline system needs to replace the fear of being hit with a wooden stick with the fear (or hope of) something else. I’ve tried to make this work through carrots like free time and candy and games, and metaphorical sticks like holding the class back for ten minutes just before lunch so they’re last in line, giving out extra homework, and making particularly naughty kids stand just outside the classroom in 40°F weather for an hour and attend class through the window. Unfortunately, nothing’s come to work properly just yet, and now some of my least cooperative students have a new trick: crawling out of the window as soon as class ends. Mark’s having a similar issue, so we’re planning on switching off being “window guard” for the other.

Anyway, I’ve talked discipline tips with other CEI fellows and my parents, but if anybody else has tips on how to handle the velociraptors (as one of last year’s fellows so aptly titled them) I would love to know.

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.

First Week of Class

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.

Well, that’ll about do it for now. Happy Saturday, everyone. (Actually, Sunday, now. After 24 hours of not being able to access blogspot through my proxy, I bit the bullet and bought a VPN CEI recommended. The bad news? I’m down $60. $60 American bucks. The good news? That’s for a year’s subscription, so I should have slow but consistent access to the sites China blocks.)