After five days, I’ve already got some funny America stories, but I’m afraid to tell them. You might not find them amusing or you might be offended. It’s harder to write about America because I’m afraid people will take me serious, and that’s scary.
When the plane wheels first hit the ground in San Francisco, I felt a little thrill go through me. Living in China has made me more patriotic in some ways because I realize that homeland is important. The first thing I noticed when I walked through the airport was how different people looked. So much blond hair, but also red and brown and black hair. Even a girl with blue hair sitting by the window. She looked scary. I also noticed families. People had children, several children not just one. There were people who were tall and athletic and petite and overweight. They all wore matching clothes. It was weird because it was normal.
This week I went to the doctor, the grocery store, a restaurant, and a bookstore. The doctor’s office was clean and efficient. He didn’t tell me to wear more layers. The grocery store was big and clean and brightly lit. I bought a bunch of stuff to ship back slow boat - baking mixes and granola bars and shortening. I talked to two little blond girls at the deli counter who had cute southern accents. The restaurant (Applebees) was clean and the menus were big and colorful and English. The food was covered with cheese and they had real salad and free refills. The plates were big enough to be platters, but everyone got their own instead of sharing. The bookstore was beautiful even though I was only there for a few minutes. It was clean too.
I’ve eaten sharp cheddar cheese, homemade bread, Cherry Coke, salad, and white sauce pizza. My stomach is re-learning to accommodate American size portions. I am really surprised though, to realize how many people are overweight here! I appreciate not being surrounded by two-dimensional people, and I’m glad for different body shapes, but Americans really are large.
I enjoy hearing country music on the radio, good southern accents, chirping crickets, and silence. I like listening to other people’s conversations but they tend to be boring. I like sitting on the floor looking up at our extensive book collection. I enjoy driving again, but I miss walking and biking.
I’ve never visited America before. It’s turning out to be a pretty interesting country.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Melancholy
It’s raining on Stinky River today. The surface of the water is ever moving and changing in brown-green dapples. It starts raining every year around this time. Kristina says practically that it’s the beginning of the rainy season, but Katrina claims that Yangzhou is crying to see us go.
I stand over the sink, washing dishes and looking out the window. In some ways, though I hardly relish a seemingly endless supply of dirty dishes, it’s still my favorite spot. Beneath the window a rusty-green trash barrel is overflowing, colorful piles of garbage scattered in soggy piles on the ground all around. A woman in a red baseball cap bends over it, picking through the remains in hopes of something salvageable. A little ways off, a straw hat lies quietly in a puddle, waiting patiently. The branches of spindly trees droop sadly.
Students walk by, their voices muffled by the quietness. Umbrellas, brought out on sunny days to shield from sun and prevent tanning, are now put to what we would consider their original use. And the rain continues to fall.
It’s hard to believe I’m leaving. Change always leaves me a little melancholy. I have put away most of my decorations to shelter from summer dust. But even so, the apartment doesn’t look nearly so bare as when I first stepped in the door last August. At that time it seemed gray and cold, and I remember being disturbed by the pasty-yellow doors. Now, even empty, it looks like home. After a year there are still a lot of things in China that seem strange and foreign. But not my apartment. I have a set of dishes and two little house plants and pictures on the fridge. Somehow because of those things I know I belong. I’m glad to go home for the summer. And in August, I’ll be glad to come back home again.
I stand over the sink, washing dishes and looking out the window. In some ways, though I hardly relish a seemingly endless supply of dirty dishes, it’s still my favorite spot. Beneath the window a rusty-green trash barrel is overflowing, colorful piles of garbage scattered in soggy piles on the ground all around. A woman in a red baseball cap bends over it, picking through the remains in hopes of something salvageable. A little ways off, a straw hat lies quietly in a puddle, waiting patiently. The branches of spindly trees droop sadly.
Students walk by, their voices muffled by the quietness. Umbrellas, brought out on sunny days to shield from sun and prevent tanning, are now put to what we would consider their original use. And the rain continues to fall.
It’s hard to believe I’m leaving. Change always leaves me a little melancholy. I have put away most of my decorations to shelter from summer dust. But even so, the apartment doesn’t look nearly so bare as when I first stepped in the door last August. At that time it seemed gray and cold, and I remember being disturbed by the pasty-yellow doors. Now, even empty, it looks like home. After a year there are still a lot of things in China that seem strange and foreign. But not my apartment. I have a set of dishes and two little house plants and pictures on the fridge. Somehow because of those things I know I belong. I’m glad to go home for the summer. And in August, I’ll be glad to come back home again.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Face to Face
I can feel the sweat rolling down my back and I’ve only been sitting in this classroom for 15 minutes. I am already stuck to the chair. The fans overhead jerk at the papers on my desk but they do little to cool the room. A student walks nervously into the room, and I glance at the list. Four students down, thirty-eight left to go. Ah, final exams.
The next student comes and sits in the desk chair right next to mine. I can see the sweat beads on her face. Of course, it is only about two feet from mine. Right…not the same concept of personal space. The students have all done an oral final before, so they are not nearly as nervous as the first time around. Some of them still shake a bit and stumble over words, but no one looks like they will run out of the room screaming.
The freshmen finals are a short conversation, testing their ability to speak clearly and communicate their ideas in a comfortable, colloquial manner. I ask some open ended questions and the students answer – usually either in a 3 minute monologue until the timer goes off or in about three whispered words. We talk about school, parents, roommates, travel, dating, the future… It’s kind of interesting what students will open up and tell you. Some of the conversations I would have been glad to continue for half an hour, if not for the half a dozen other students peering anxiously through the door.
At the end I ask if they have any questions for me. A few quickly rattle off the inevitable, dreaded questions: “How do you feel about the Chinese? Do you like Chinese food? Can you use chopsticks?” Outwardly, I’m smiling and answering as quickly as possible. Inwardly, I’m bashing my head against a wall. I’ve known you for a year! Have I taught you nothing? There’s nothing offensive about these questions (except the fact that I’ve lived for a year in a place where Chinese food and chopsticks are pretty much what’s available, and clearly I haven’t starved), but after hearing them from at least half of my 300+ students, it’s hard to handle.
Next semester I think I will start out the first class with “the top 5 things that make foreigners want to bash their heads against the wall.” I’ll have them memorize it and write a speech on it. Maybe we’ll recited it as an opening to each class. No, I doubt it would work. It’s too engrained already. I guess I’ll just have to put up with it until they get tired of asking such boring questions and move on to something we can really talk about. Like, “How do you feel about armadillos? Do you like Bosnian food? Can you use a power saw?”
As the classroom dims in the evening light, the last student flees in relief. They are cute, really. Several said, “We hope you will teach us next semester!” And I found myself saying, “Yeah, I hope I will too!” What? What am I saying? I've been counting the days until I was done teaching them. Hmm, I guess it’s true though. After all, they said they would miss me. They said I was the best (though sometimes the first…) foreign teacher they’ve had. One said I have a beautiful, clear voice (when I haven’t lost it, like today when I sound like a beautiful, clear frog). They said they learned a lot and improved their English. They liked my green skirt. Okay, keep the complements coming. I’ll be back next year.
The next student comes and sits in the desk chair right next to mine. I can see the sweat beads on her face. Of course, it is only about two feet from mine. Right…not the same concept of personal space. The students have all done an oral final before, so they are not nearly as nervous as the first time around. Some of them still shake a bit and stumble over words, but no one looks like they will run out of the room screaming.
The freshmen finals are a short conversation, testing their ability to speak clearly and communicate their ideas in a comfortable, colloquial manner. I ask some open ended questions and the students answer – usually either in a 3 minute monologue until the timer goes off or in about three whispered words. We talk about school, parents, roommates, travel, dating, the future… It’s kind of interesting what students will open up and tell you. Some of the conversations I would have been glad to continue for half an hour, if not for the half a dozen other students peering anxiously through the door.
At the end I ask if they have any questions for me. A few quickly rattle off the inevitable, dreaded questions: “How do you feel about the Chinese? Do you like Chinese food? Can you use chopsticks?” Outwardly, I’m smiling and answering as quickly as possible. Inwardly, I’m bashing my head against a wall. I’ve known you for a year! Have I taught you nothing? There’s nothing offensive about these questions (except the fact that I’ve lived for a year in a place where Chinese food and chopsticks are pretty much what’s available, and clearly I haven’t starved), but after hearing them from at least half of my 300+ students, it’s hard to handle.
Next semester I think I will start out the first class with “the top 5 things that make foreigners want to bash their heads against the wall.” I’ll have them memorize it and write a speech on it. Maybe we’ll recited it as an opening to each class. No, I doubt it would work. It’s too engrained already. I guess I’ll just have to put up with it until they get tired of asking such boring questions and move on to something we can really talk about. Like, “How do you feel about armadillos? Do you like Bosnian food? Can you use a power saw?”
As the classroom dims in the evening light, the last student flees in relief. They are cute, really. Several said, “We hope you will teach us next semester!” And I found myself saying, “Yeah, I hope I will too!” What? What am I saying? I've been counting the days until I was done teaching them. Hmm, I guess it’s true though. After all, they said they would miss me. They said I was the best (though sometimes the first…) foreign teacher they’ve had. One said I have a beautiful, clear voice (when I haven’t lost it, like today when I sound like a beautiful, clear frog). They said they learned a lot and improved their English. They liked my green skirt. Okay, keep the complements coming. I’ll be back next year.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
My Life as a To-Do List
Hi, I’m still alive. It’s been kind of busy. Only, let's see, 10 days until we leave, and still so much to do! So the best means of updating you on my life is by giving you my to-do list.
Thursday
*Fresh oral finals – bring class pictures
*Office hour
*Team lunch, fill out paperwork
*Junior oral finals – Bring copies for Christina, get gradesheets from Linda!
*Banquet for Chinese class
Friday
*Baby-sit Logan?
*Lunch with girls from fellowship (call Tammy)
*Shopping for gifts with Katrina
*Open House - clean, snacks, drinks, buy cups!
-Enter GL fresh grades
-Enter CC fresh grades
-Print GL Fresh, Soph finals questions
-Make Soph finals gradesheet
-Combine GL Fresh 2, Soph, and Jr grades with Corrine
-Figure out GL Fresh 1 grades with Katrina
-Student descriptions for summer cards
-End of year card for Ling, Tammy
-Newsletter? Type questions
-Write Partnership paper
-Start reading We are the World
Unfortunately, I know I won’t have it all done by next week when I’ll need to make a new to-do list. I hate transferring items without being able to scratch them off. And next week will be full of finishing finals, recording grades (lots of numbers hand written onto multiple sheets), cleaning, organizing, packing, goodbye visits, etc. But there are still good points. Like last week when I had the pleasure of catching two students who were trying to explain that they hadn't been in class practically all semester because they had leave. Did they think I wouldn't check it out with their head teacher? Busted! I can't wait to see them for the finals... hehe (evil teacher laugh).
Thursday
*Fresh oral finals – bring class pictures
*Office hour
*Team lunch, fill out paperwork
*Junior oral finals – Bring copies for Christina, get gradesheets from Linda!
*Banquet for Chinese class
Friday
*Baby-sit Logan?
*Lunch with girls from fellowship (call Tammy)
*Shopping for gifts with Katrina
*Open House - clean, snacks, drinks, buy cups!
-Enter GL fresh grades
-Enter CC fresh grades
-Print GL Fresh, Soph finals questions
-Make Soph finals gradesheet
-Combine GL Fresh 2, Soph, and Jr grades with Corrine
-Figure out GL Fresh 1 grades with Katrina
-Student descriptions for summer cards
-End of year card for Ling, Tammy
-Newsletter? Type questions
-Write Partnership paper
-Start reading We are the World
Unfortunately, I know I won’t have it all done by next week when I’ll need to make a new to-do list. I hate transferring items without being able to scratch them off. And next week will be full of finishing finals, recording grades (lots of numbers hand written onto multiple sheets), cleaning, organizing, packing, goodbye visits, etc. But there are still good points. Like last week when I had the pleasure of catching two students who were trying to explain that they hadn't been in class practically all semester because they had leave. Did they think I wouldn't check it out with their head teacher? Busted! I can't wait to see them for the finals... hehe (evil teacher laugh).
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Student "Riot"
It was 11pm, and I was just settling into bed when the yelling started. Every night at 11pm the electricity is turned off in the dormitories and the students are technically supposed to go to bed. Sometimes the guys in the dorm just across from us decide it is too early though, and they will yell in objection. Usually they will yell a couple of times back and forth and then settle down, but tonight, the yelling continued.
A few minutes later the cheering was still going on, getting louder and bursting forth in waves. I looked out of the window by my bed, and I could see flashlights jumping around in the darkened dorm rooms. I could see a few guys peering out of their balconies, but that was all.
When the yelling had continued for about five minutes, my curiosity was raised. Had something important happened that I don’t know about? Was this some sort of spontaneous celebration? I looked out my other windows but still couldn’t see any cause for the commotion. I saw that Christina’s light was on above me, so I gave her a call, but she didn’t have any idea either. We decided to scope out the scene.
I threw on some clothes and we walked outside. As we came out the door, we met a couple of post-graduate friends who were also headed toward the dormitories to find out what was happening. In the middle of the four large dormitory buildings (each housing about 1000 students) is a long, wide roadway. We joined a small crowd of students gathered nearby in frilly nightgowns and boxers and all manner of dress or undress. Even in the darkness I could see that the balconies of the dormitories were crowded with students.
Every minute or so a water bottle (mostly plastic, but a few glass) would come flying from one of the upper balconies and shatter on the ground. Each explosion brought a new round of shouts and cheering. On the ground a lone security guard stood, vainly waving around his flashlight. He yelled a few times but quickly gave in to the futility, realizing his powerlessness against the thousands of students sheltered by the anonymous darkness.
A police car drove up behind us flashing lights, and three policemen jumped out. They surveyed the scene then also stood back to watch. Even the little group of spectators on the ground barely glanced at them. Obviously they weren’t intimidated.
It was such an interesting sight that I just kept laughing. The spectators were clearly enjoying this break from the routine. Our friend said, laughing, “It’s a student riot!” (When I asked students today, they said it was perhaps a protest of the electricity shut off or seniors who are about to graduate protesting everything they couldn’t protest in the past four years.) Though confined to their dormitories, the students were united and empowered. The air was charged with excitement. There was really nothing to be done except wait for the students to get tired or bored.
Christina and I got bored before the students did. We bid our friends goodbye and went back inside. Finally at around 11:40pm the lights were turned on and the noise died away.
Really, I felt happy for the students. Sure, it was random and mostly useless, but it was one of those things that makes you wake up and remember that life is fun. Today, in our last class for the semester, I asked my students, “What is you best memory from this year?” Some of them yelled out, “Last night! Last night!” amid more cheers and laughter.
A few minutes later the cheering was still going on, getting louder and bursting forth in waves. I looked out of the window by my bed, and I could see flashlights jumping around in the darkened dorm rooms. I could see a few guys peering out of their balconies, but that was all.
When the yelling had continued for about five minutes, my curiosity was raised. Had something important happened that I don’t know about? Was this some sort of spontaneous celebration? I looked out my other windows but still couldn’t see any cause for the commotion. I saw that Christina’s light was on above me, so I gave her a call, but she didn’t have any idea either. We decided to scope out the scene.
I threw on some clothes and we walked outside. As we came out the door, we met a couple of post-graduate friends who were also headed toward the dormitories to find out what was happening. In the middle of the four large dormitory buildings (each housing about 1000 students) is a long, wide roadway. We joined a small crowd of students gathered nearby in frilly nightgowns and boxers and all manner of dress or undress. Even in the darkness I could see that the balconies of the dormitories were crowded with students.
Every minute or so a water bottle (mostly plastic, but a few glass) would come flying from one of the upper balconies and shatter on the ground. Each explosion brought a new round of shouts and cheering. On the ground a lone security guard stood, vainly waving around his flashlight. He yelled a few times but quickly gave in to the futility, realizing his powerlessness against the thousands of students sheltered by the anonymous darkness.
A police car drove up behind us flashing lights, and three policemen jumped out. They surveyed the scene then also stood back to watch. Even the little group of spectators on the ground barely glanced at them. Obviously they weren’t intimidated.
It was such an interesting sight that I just kept laughing. The spectators were clearly enjoying this break from the routine. Our friend said, laughing, “It’s a student riot!” (When I asked students today, they said it was perhaps a protest of the electricity shut off or seniors who are about to graduate protesting everything they couldn’t protest in the past four years.) Though confined to their dormitories, the students were united and empowered. The air was charged with excitement. There was really nothing to be done except wait for the students to get tired or bored.
Christina and I got bored before the students did. We bid our friends goodbye and went back inside. Finally at around 11:40pm the lights were turned on and the noise died away.
Really, I felt happy for the students. Sure, it was random and mostly useless, but it was one of those things that makes you wake up and remember that life is fun. Today, in our last class for the semester, I asked my students, “What is you best memory from this year?” Some of them yelled out, “Last night! Last night!” amid more cheers and laughter.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Tired of Playing the Foreigner
What is it about culture that makes it so difficult sometimes? Sometimes when I am talking to my students and Chinese friends I feel very close and think, “we are all just people. We are all very much alike.” But then other times I am frustrated by the difference. Despite our love for each other or desire to be open and honest, there are constant misunderstandings. I feel that about half the time we are talking past each other. The slightly-perplexed expression leaves our faces only in those brief moments of connection.
Or maybe it is that you have to start at the beginning, trying to explain something. Is the TV show “Friends” what life is like in America? Are families very traditional or more open? How do you answer questions like that? I really am a “representative of all Americans” -even though I know that I am some crazy kind of a representative. When you know 500 people that are all very different, how can you lump them all together into one vague generalization?
Much as my students may like me, mostly they like me because I am foreign and fascinating, a little weird and very white. While discussing cultural differences is interesting and enlightening, often I think both sides come away thinking, “Wow, we are so different…” Even the complements – “You are so beautiful…Your skin is so white…You are very adventurous” – are all just because I am different. One guy even told me, “Your eyes are like the sky,” which is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard since my eyes are brownish-green. Umm, a tornado sky…?
Tonight my students complimented me on a green skirt I wore this week. “We all talked about how much we liked it.” Another student, who I had only met one other time, chimed in and said, “Oh yes! I saw you wearing that skirt too, and it was very beautiful.” I don’t know…it still weirds me out a little that my students discuss what I wear and that everywhere I go, random strangers are noticing my clothes, my hair, my shoes... Students say things like, “You are thinner than last semester,” or looking at pictures, “I think you are prettier now.” I’m not really sure how to take things like that. Just when I think I am feeling at home in the culture, I remember that I am still uncomfortable with the spotlight. I wonder if we’ll ever really connect, and I get a little disheartened when I think about starting the process all over again with new freshmen in the fall. Oh, it’s been good. I will miss my students and friends. Tonight though, I am just tired.
Or maybe it is that you have to start at the beginning, trying to explain something. Is the TV show “Friends” what life is like in America? Are families very traditional or more open? How do you answer questions like that? I really am a “representative of all Americans” -even though I know that I am some crazy kind of a representative. When you know 500 people that are all very different, how can you lump them all together into one vague generalization?
Much as my students may like me, mostly they like me because I am foreign and fascinating, a little weird and very white. While discussing cultural differences is interesting and enlightening, often I think both sides come away thinking, “Wow, we are so different…” Even the complements – “You are so beautiful…Your skin is so white…You are very adventurous” – are all just because I am different. One guy even told me, “Your eyes are like the sky,” which is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard since my eyes are brownish-green. Umm, a tornado sky…?
Tonight my students complimented me on a green skirt I wore this week. “We all talked about how much we liked it.” Another student, who I had only met one other time, chimed in and said, “Oh yes! I saw you wearing that skirt too, and it was very beautiful.” I don’t know…it still weirds me out a little that my students discuss what I wear and that everywhere I go, random strangers are noticing my clothes, my hair, my shoes... Students say things like, “You are thinner than last semester,” or looking at pictures, “I think you are prettier now.” I’m not really sure how to take things like that. Just when I think I am feeling at home in the culture, I remember that I am still uncomfortable with the spotlight. I wonder if we’ll ever really connect, and I get a little disheartened when I think about starting the process all over again with new freshmen in the fall. Oh, it’s been good. I will miss my students and friends. Tonight though, I am just tired.
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