Teaching and Travel

Today is my last real “teaching” day of the semester, and it couldn’t have come fast enough. It seems that being a teacher in front of the classroom has not changed the attitude that regularly took hold of me as a student at this time of year. I need a break. In some ways I need the break simply in order to get out of Qufu. I love it here, I really do, but having not left Qufu for 3 months I am going a little stir crazy. I also need the break to get excited about teaching again. I need to relax, regroup and then instill my teaching with some energy once again.

As you may tell, I am eager to get out of Qufu, and I have already begun planning what I will do for my 2 months of vacation—it has not been an easy process. Travel in China, and the process of arranging travel in China, is like nothing I have ever experienced before. In America, even in Europe, it is easy to arrange round trip tickets and to buy tickets for multiple destinations on a trip. Not so in China. You purchase train and bus tickets usually just a day or two before you wish to travel, and you can only buy one way tickets. You can also only buy tickets in the city of your departure. So I will go to Shanghai, then Zhuhai, then Guangzhou, then Macau, then Guangzhou, and then Hainan. But at this point, if I hope to travel only by train and bus, I can only purchase my ticket from Qufu to Shanghai. You really have no choice but to “fly by the seat of your pants” and hope that tickets will match hotel reservations (if you have been bold enough to book them).

At this point it seem that I will be traveling for about 7 weeks straight, and I’m sure my vacation will not be that relaxing, but I am excited to see more of China. The first week of January I will take a 23 hour train north to Harbin. This Russian-influenced city is home to a spectacular snow and ice festival each winter. I will admit, however, that I am a little worried about the cold. My weather widget tells me that this Sunday’s low is -19F. Yes, you read correctly, I did not mistake an F for a C. -19 Fahrenheit. Wish me luck.

Another day, another competition

It has been quite some time since I last wrote about my experiences in china, and really not much has happened. As has been mentioned before, we have settled into our routines here. My days follow roughly the same pattern—wake up, put water on to boil while I wash up, drink coffee, eat breakfast, teach class, go online, pretend to grade, lunch, nap, Chinese lesson or free talk with students, pretend to grade, watch tv or a movie online, dinner, read, grade, go for a run, shower, watch tv or a movie, sleep. There is very little variation to these habits. I should also mention that frequently thrown into the pattern is “judge.” As a foreign teacher, I am asked to judge competitions on a near weekly basis. China is obsessed with competitions, an obsession that I am sure was not helped by this summers Olympic games. They use competitions to assess almost every single skill. Singing, acting, basketball playing, dancing, speaking, movie “voice-overing”.

Two weeks ago I began my morning sitting in the back of a police ca

r and ended it by getting 600 yuan. A day that should have been filled with new and exciting experiences, really felt not too different. Granted I was judging a police officers speaking competition but still. Very little about China shocks me anymore. That it should be different and “shocking” has become almost expected. Of course they wo

uld drive me to the competition in a police car. Of course the police car would be a Mercedes. Of course it would have black leather interior. Of course a plastic pink comb would be sitting on the black leather back seat of the Mercedes cop car. Of course – I would expect nothing else than to be “shocked” by the strangeness of the experience.

This particular speech contest was a bit more of a to-do. It was a contest for all of Shandong province and a contest of government employees so a bit more ceremony existed. It was also not in a classroom but a rather plush hotel in Jining. The hotel was perhaps the nicest one I had been in a few years. I even got my own hotel room, complete with cushy bed, down pillows and duvet, and HBO, for naptime after lunch. 

The competition itself was and English speech competition for the immigration bureau of Shandong. The participants' speech could be on any topic they wished for a length of up to 8 minutes. Most speeches had similar themes: duty, respect, responsibility, Olympics, service, etc. What I found most interesting was how many speeches gave examples of experiences in which the police officers had to put aside family for their job. Women in their mid 20s spoke about sobbing as they left their sick baby in the hospital to go to the office to expedite a visa for a foreign businessman. This was one of the few things about the day that actually did shock me. These women were not leaving to bust a drug lord or rescue a child from a kidnapper; they were leaving to issue a form. Further, this act was one that they deemed honorable and noteworthy enough to include in a speech, but then this type of act speech to the society in which they live and the government under which they live. And so, upon thinking about the speeches some more, I am no longer shock. I am in China—of course this would be the subject of a speech.

The competition also included some skits. This one was about Swedish athletes who were in Qingdao for the sailing competitions for the Olymics. Their visas were expiring the next day but they wanted to visit Beijing. 

Bachelors' Day!

Today, November 11th, is Veterans Day back home. A day to honor those who fought to protect our country. Here in China, today is bachelors' day. I'm not exactly sure what that means other than the fact that it is a day to celebrate the single men and women of China. From a quick search of the internet I've found that it is an unofficially holiday that was started by single high school and college students a few years ago. The day, 11/11, has become quite the vogue around college campuses and though I'm not sure what exactly people do to celebrate--students are much more chaste here--I did discover that in some cities 30-something singles gather at "marriage fairs." I love that China has a day, official or not, celebrating almost everyone. Earlier I was honored on teacher's day, and now, today, I can celebrate my singledom. Take that Valentine's day. 

Their very first foreigner

On Sunday Lucy and I went to a town near by--about 30 minutes drive from Qufu--to teach children between the ages of 5 and 12. We really didn't know anything more than that when we were picked up at 7am. During the ride there I was tired and not really looking forward to spending my Sunday in a classroom teaching. We arrived in the center of town and split up; Lucy would go to 3 schools and I would go to another 4 all in surrounding villages. Once I walked into the school my feelings about the day radically changed. The children were all so incredibly energetic and enthusiastic. I think Lucy described it best when she said she felt like Santa. Because we were the first foreigners that they had even met they were shy and hesitant in deciding what to make of me at first. Was I real? And then, moments later, once they decided that I was not someone--or something--to be afraid of they swarmed. For 3 hours I moved from class to class, school to school. The children had been taking English for anywhere from 2 months to 4 years so their levels varied. After introducing myself to each class, I would answer their questions--all the basic phrases they had learned: what is your favorite color; what is your favorite food; do you like oranges; what is your favorite sport? Then they would sing me a song or chant a song or two. I would then teach them a song and play a game with them. For most classes I taught them "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" and they all learned very quickly. After singing the song and doing the motions together a few times, I would point to a part on my body and they would have to say it correctly or I would say a part of my body and they would have to point to it. Though some were a moment or two behind the others, most learned quickly--we'll see if they retain any of it.


After 3 hours of teaching Lucy and I met up again and taught a large group of very young children ring around the rosie. Holding hands with one little girl in a pink puffy jacket, I really noticed just how curious, enthusiastic, yet shy many of them were. She wouldn't really look me in the eye when I asked her questions, yet she clung to my hand, not wanted to let me go. We signed dozens of "autographs" in their textbooks in a frenzy of pushing and shoving and then said good bye. Following teaching, we were treated to a feast for lunch. Six or so dishes of food came out and we ate quickly, hungry and worn out by the long day. Having stuffed ourselves we forced ourselves to make room as another 5 dishes appeared. We did our best not to appear rude in refusing to eat more. We arrived back at our apartments at about 1:30 in the afternoon, exhausted from the morning but grateful for the experience.

The conditions of each school varied dramatically. Some were a large complex with larger, clean classrooms while others really nothing more than a single room in a rapidly aging building. From what I could gather, the each school was part of the larger single organization that had brought us there. Most seemed to have to do with educating the children of coal miners as the town is supported largely by coal mining. The children were all adorable though--I have to say Chinese children really are the cutest. Some were dressed in school track suites while others, mostly the girls, wore tweed jackets and knee high boots, making them appear almost as miniature adults. In the spring, when my Juniors go to their hometowns to do student teaching for a 5 weeks, I hope to be able to go back to the schools more regularly and really interact with the children.

Election Day

I went to bed last night in China with polls opening across the country in America. In some ways I am disappointed not to be in the US or even awake during election day. November 4th is bound to be a historic day and I am not there to experience it. But as disappointed as I am, sleeping through the anxiety has its benefits as well. I slept last night like a child on Christmas Eve. I also slept like a high school student the night before the SATs, dreaming that I walked into the test with no pencil and no clothes on, or in this case that something horribly wrong would happen when election results began to come in. When I finally got out of bed and readied myself for class, the first polls were just closing. Now I am sitting in my living room, computer on my lap, NPR WAMC streaming, and refreshing nytimes.com and cnn.com every other minute or so. It is strange to be so far away from America on such a monumental day. I can only imagine how different the atmosphere in America is from here in China. Here, everyone is going about their day as usual. They are not just indifferent, but oblivious to what is happening in the US. 

Looking back, I remember the only other presidential election that I have voted in--the 2004 election. It was my freshman year of college, and I was in a overwhelmingly liberal environment. I remember sitting in the common room watching the news until about 3 in the morning, desperately hoping that something would happen to change the direction that the results were going. In the defeat there was a sense of community though. I think that is what I feel I am missing out on most today--and what I will be missing most tomorrow. As results come in, it appears that tomorrow will be a day that marks the first step in a new direction; yet, I will, for the most part, experience it alone. 

birds & old men

This morning one of the other American teachers here, Lisa, and I woke up early on a Sunday morning to go on a bit of an adventure. In past years Lisa had discovered that early in the morning old men would gather in a park in Qufu. The group gathers to talk--about what I do not know--but seems to use the excuse of "airing" their birds. Each man will carry his little pet bird(s) in beautiful old cages on the back of a bike or cart. 

So out we went at 7am to the park about a 15 minute bike ride away from my apartment. We wandered about taking pictures and endeavoring to interact; Lisa better than me--smiles and nods seem still seem to be my strongest method of communication. Across a small waterway or mote of sorts, the rest of the park was filled with men and women doing their morning exercises. Most have past their mid-forties, but each seems to have an incredible about of

 energy. As we walked our bikes through the w

inding paths, old women shuffled by, our presence giving them fresh gossip. We stopped for a bit to look at a plaza where couples ballroom-danced to music that blared from two speakers beneath a willow-like tree. 

As I walked through the park, I couldn't help but notice the vast difference between a Sunday morning in China, more specifically Qufu, and New York City. In New York, Sunday morning before 10 is my favorite time. The city is quiet, still sleeping in, and so becomes my own. To match the quiet, a haze blankets the city as light reflects off the morning air.

 If you head to 

Central Park you will see people running and biking, 

but almost everyone is young.  The setting, the haze, light, cool air, all match New York City, but the atmosphere is completely different. The exercising crowd is older, the day has already begun, hours ago in fact, and exercise is not so much a chore to keep up appearances but an yet another opportunity to socialize. 

autobiographies

So for the past three weeks or so I have been really awful at keeping my blog updated. Perhaps it is because I have truly settled into my life here. I have my routines down, I am no longer really making new friends but developing the friendship I have, and classes have become somewhat predictable. Nothing much exciting has happened for me in Qufu since I returned from Shanghai; yet, I still notice differences in culture each day. I will have to make more of an effort to get my observations down each day.

This past week I have been reading and grading "Autobiographies" from my junior sections. Though many of them are the same, and the same cliched language is use throughout, it has been fascinating to get a look into the life of a typical Chinese student. How they spend their childhood and adolescence is so remarkably different from not only how I spent my own but also how the majority of Americans spend theirs. For my students scores and ranks among their class have been a part of their life since the age of 7 or so. Their schooling is not so much a means to develop an independent and creative individual but someone who will continue to past tests so as to make it to college. The pressure to advance in education here is so strong that often it seems as if children really miss out on a childhood. Nearly all of my students have included vignettes of a playful youth who had to push her innocence aside as a result of a bad test score. So many of my students regard their time in middle and senior high school as the worst time in their life. 

It is strange for me to look back my own experience as a teenager and remember anything other than inspiring teachers, supportive friends, and parents who encouraged me to believe that the possibilities for my future were endless. I am not so naive as to believe that my experiences are the same as every other American--I know that I have been blessed in my family, friends and education--but to look at teenage years as so life altering is something very different from the culture that I have grown up in. 

It is strange, too, how many of the autobiographies I have read that have included losing a parent by illness or accident. Having only read through a third of my students' papers, or about thirty autobiographies, at least five have experience the painful loss of a loved one. Again, this is a characteristic of their lives that I find very different from Americans'. 

Their stories are not with out inspiration though. Many write beautiful descriptions of their love for their parents and their gratitude for all that they have given up in order to provide them an education. For many of my students, they are the first of their family to study in college or even graduate from high school. They recognized the opportunities that education will afford them and their motivation is inspiring. Though only about 40 percent of students graduating will be able to find jobs in the fields and at the levels they have studied, they are all hopeful for a prosperous and fulfilling future. 

I think what has been most rewarding about reading these autobiographies is not simply hearing their stories but seeing the work and effort my students put into them and the enjoyment they have taken from writing. When I told my students that they would be writing autobiographies, or at least parts of an autobiography, many responded with a look of doubt on their faces, saying, "But we haven't done anything. Our lives are not important." I told them that people write autobiographies, not because they are important but because there are people, places and events that are important to them. In that way, their stories have value. I like to think that in assigning them each to write an autobiography, I have helped them see themselves and their lives as meaningful because they have happened. Perhaps I have, in some small part, moved them out of the "group" for a moment and allowed them to see themselves as worthy of a story.