Do I even know why I’m here anymore?
Next week I’ll go home. I can’t wait. I look forward to Western food. I look forward to Canadian manners, streets which don’t smell like rotting animal guts, houses with fixtures which are much more likely to work than not, an absence of cavalier animal cruelty, an absence of vast general ignorance, and people who are accustomed to personal choice and individual thought.
I don’t even remember what I came here to gain—-I think it was pretty nebulous even at the time. Guessing, I’d say it was some form of self-assurance, confidence, knowledge. Or maybe that’s just what I’ve barely begun to learn about, and I feel like assigning it to my pre-China ambitions.
I knew that it was something I had to do. I don’t really know why I picked China. A hundred people have asked me that since I decided to go, and I’ve given different answers. Usually some mumbly version of “want to learn Chinese, find the culture interesting” and sometimes if people were still paying attention “need to explore...things, self-discovery etc.”
Today I met a friend who makes me untense a bit, certain muscles I hadn’t realized I was holding tense. He’s American, and all the brash, direct and challenging that you would associate with that. Even as I make an effort to not be shocked by him, being in his presence is a relief to me. Today I feel an actual, palpable relief, like cool air on my sweaty skin in the muggy street.
His pet defense mechanisms are ones I haven’t dared adopt for fear of furthering the “rude/weird/intolerant foreigner” stereotype (is there even one?? Do they know us enough to have stereotypes about us? Are these the ones they have?). But there's something about being with him when he says random English words to passers-by, argues back at belligerent merchants (never minding that he speaks no Chinese), sits in a café we’ve previously patronized and flat-out refuses a menu because we’re only there to weather a brief storm, and teaches classes in which he bluntly and aggressively challenges his adult students’ ideas regarding current events in China (a huge no-no, stated many times over to us as new teachers) (but also so, so important, and honestly something I should have done/should be doing more of).
Even as it gives me the “shouldn’t be doing this!” thrill/shiver, almost unnoticeably it makes something inside me unclench.
Sunday 12 July 2009
Monday 29 June 2009
If it ain’t broke, you probably didn’t buy it in China.
Never before has a smallish white girl looked at a large brown man and thought, How nice! One of my own kind! But in this case I was truly pleased to meet a fellow English-speaking foreigner—an Indian dude, who spotted me within my first few struggling steps into the mad circus that is Chungking Mansions. He talked a blue streak, as you come to expect merchants in China to, bargained, cajoled and flattered me, but even the salesmanship didn’t make me like him less.
Anyway, thanks to his entrepreneurial spirit, here I am on a flower-sheeted single bed, in a room hardly bigger than it, in front of a small window in “Yan Han House”, the top floor of Chungking Mansions (vastly less opulent than it sounds, I assure you), Kowloon, Hong Kong.
In the events leading up to this moment, I have discarded two thirds of my worldly belongings, left chunks of suitcase in four different cities, stayed in two hotels I couldn’t afford, frolicked in the Pacific Ocean, cried thrice, been caught in the rain multiple times, eaten the most delicious egg tart of my life, and been helped by at least four angels disguised as regular people: two Chinese, one Dutch and one Australian.
Bottom line, I am okay. I am here, I am alive, and I am definitely paring down my belongings—again.
Anyway, thanks to his entrepreneurial spirit, here I am on a flower-sheeted single bed, in a room hardly bigger than it, in front of a small window in “Yan Han House”, the top floor of Chungking Mansions (vastly less opulent than it sounds, I assure you), Kowloon, Hong Kong.
In the events leading up to this moment, I have discarded two thirds of my worldly belongings, left chunks of suitcase in four different cities, stayed in two hotels I couldn’t afford, frolicked in the Pacific Ocean, cried thrice, been caught in the rain multiple times, eaten the most delicious egg tart of my life, and been helped by at least four angels disguised as regular people: two Chinese, one Dutch and one Australian.
Bottom line, I am okay. I am here, I am alive, and I am definitely paring down my belongings—again.
Tuesday 23 June 2009
Summer. Moving on from Suzhou.
Today was my last day of classes. Packed a little. I am boring when I'm very tired. Like right now.
Paring down belongings to fit in one small suitcase, weight not to exceed 20 kilos on pain of financial rape. Is there a different word for that when it's done at an airport? Aero-rape? Corporape?
Anyway, Thursday I'll spend the afternoon in Shanghai with Jason, then fly to Shenzhen and visit with Horsei and hopefully Andy and Jason (another one) as well. Shenzhen timing unspecified due to latter two not emailing me back yet.
After that will go to Hong Kong to visit with Lana, will be legen wait for it dary. Timing also uncertain. Depends on mutual fun quotient, her tolerance for my houseguestness, availability from werk, independent entertainment possibilities, funds.
After HK will be back to Yangshuo. See Liz and other excellent people. Then Aug 6 back to Edmonton.
It's gonna be cool, I'm sure, but right now I'm tired!!!
Also, still must find a home for the best bunny ever :/ Hoping to find a good one, may end up settling for one, period.
Love you. Miss you. Hope you still think of me a little and my absence won't be old news by the time I get back in August.
<3
Paring down belongings to fit in one small suitcase, weight not to exceed 20 kilos on pain of financial rape. Is there a different word for that when it's done at an airport? Aero-rape? Corporape?
Anyway, Thursday I'll spend the afternoon in Shanghai with Jason, then fly to Shenzhen and visit with Horsei and hopefully Andy and Jason (another one) as well. Shenzhen timing unspecified due to latter two not emailing me back yet.
After that will go to Hong Kong to visit with Lana, will be legen wait for it dary. Timing also uncertain. Depends on mutual fun quotient, her tolerance for my houseguestness, availability from werk, independent entertainment possibilities, funds.
After HK will be back to Yangshuo. See Liz and other excellent people. Then Aug 6 back to Edmonton.
It's gonna be cool, I'm sure, but right now I'm tired!!!
Also, still must find a home for the best bunny ever :/ Hoping to find a good one, may end up settling for one, period.
Love you. Miss you. Hope you still think of me a little and my absence won't be old news by the time I get back in August.
<3
Sunday 3 May 2009
ipod, my friend, my saving grace.
Things have really looked up for me since I remembered that wearing my ipod when I go out really helps control the stabby urges.
See, walking through town in China, a hundred people will yell "Hello!" at you, in much the same way as stupid guys at home catcall at you as they drive by: they don't *really* expect a response, but if they did get one they would probably laugh no matter what it was, and if they got a serious response they would have no idea what to do with it. If you need to ask them a question or need help with something, god knows they don't actually speak English. Hello is probably the only word they know. Oh, and this one guy who always yells at me also knows "I love you!" If it sounds cute, trust me that it loses its charm.
Also on the street in China: honking. Oh god, so much honking. Drivers in China (especially smaller towns) LOVE to honk. They honk to let you know that they are coming towards you and won't be stopping, so get the hell out of the way. They honk instead of signalling. They honk because they are out driving and it is a nice day. They honk because they are annoyed. They honk because they have a horn. They honk because they love to honk.*
People in China also love to argue (see: bargaining) and shout (see: everyday conversation). I am not sure if people do this in Canada because I think I mainly notice the shouting since it's in a language I don't understand. I don't think so though. It just seems like Chinese people often get worked up when they converse. Then each party will walk away happy and calm, and when you ask what the long, heated conversation was about, they will say, "He said that the supermarket is just over there. Let's go." So a walk down market street will undoubtedly be filled with the sound of Chinese kids yelling at each other, people bickering, and general bitchiness, all of which will be forgotten by them moments later with no trace of hostility remaining.
The fourth noise to be heard on the street in China is the most ear-bleeding: every popular store will have a different obnoxious song playing. Always clashing with the song of the store next door, and always painfully loud. Usually involving techno, with the occasional sappy ballad to mix it up. As a guide, Chinese people's favourite English songs are "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion, that song whose name I forget but whose tune I never can by Richard Marx, and anything by Britney Spears as long as it's a few years old. Normally they play Chinese music, I just give these as a guide to how lousy the usual selection is.
So, ipod. My beautiful apple-green ipod, Neko, is a good friend to me in these hard times. Thank you, Grandma, for buying her for me!! She makes my trips to town bearable and even quite pleasant.**
*Fun fact: My Chinese friend Lynn always forgets the word "hike" and usually says, "We are going to honk up that mountain." This has nothing to do with driving, it's just funny.
**I would like to point out at this time that trips to town are not always unpleasant, only that sometimes the madness is overwhelming. Neko helps to mitigate the madness.
See, walking through town in China, a hundred people will yell "Hello!" at you, in much the same way as stupid guys at home catcall at you as they drive by: they don't *really* expect a response, but if they did get one they would probably laugh no matter what it was, and if they got a serious response they would have no idea what to do with it. If you need to ask them a question or need help with something, god knows they don't actually speak English. Hello is probably the only word they know. Oh, and this one guy who always yells at me also knows "I love you!" If it sounds cute, trust me that it loses its charm.
Also on the street in China: honking. Oh god, so much honking. Drivers in China (especially smaller towns) LOVE to honk. They honk to let you know that they are coming towards you and won't be stopping, so get the hell out of the way. They honk instead of signalling. They honk because they are out driving and it is a nice day. They honk because they are annoyed. They honk because they have a horn. They honk because they love to honk.*
People in China also love to argue (see: bargaining) and shout (see: everyday conversation). I am not sure if people do this in Canada because I think I mainly notice the shouting since it's in a language I don't understand. I don't think so though. It just seems like Chinese people often get worked up when they converse. Then each party will walk away happy and calm, and when you ask what the long, heated conversation was about, they will say, "He said that the supermarket is just over there. Let's go." So a walk down market street will undoubtedly be filled with the sound of Chinese kids yelling at each other, people bickering, and general bitchiness, all of which will be forgotten by them moments later with no trace of hostility remaining.
The fourth noise to be heard on the street in China is the most ear-bleeding: every popular store will have a different obnoxious song playing. Always clashing with the song of the store next door, and always painfully loud. Usually involving techno, with the occasional sappy ballad to mix it up. As a guide, Chinese people's favourite English songs are "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion, that song whose name I forget but whose tune I never can by Richard Marx, and anything by Britney Spears as long as it's a few years old. Normally they play Chinese music, I just give these as a guide to how lousy the usual selection is.
So, ipod. My beautiful apple-green ipod, Neko, is a good friend to me in these hard times. Thank you, Grandma, for buying her for me!! She makes my trips to town bearable and even quite pleasant.**
*Fun fact: My Chinese friend Lynn always forgets the word "hike" and usually says, "We are going to honk up that mountain." This has nothing to do with driving, it's just funny.
**I would like to point out at this time that trips to town are not always unpleasant, only that sometimes the madness is overwhelming. Neko helps to mitigate the madness.
Me vs. the mosquitoes
The most striking thing about Suzhou so far is the mosquitoes. Just kidding...sort of.
Imagine trying to get to sleep every night only to be ripped from the verge of blissful oblivion by whining mosquitoes dive-bombing your face. Pleasant, right!? Truly, the pleasure can only be exceeded by the delight that is waking up in the morning and looking in the mirror to find some fifty angry red bites all over your face, hands and arms. You can tell you slept on your left side and tried in vain to hide most of your skin, because the bites are concentrated on the right side of your face--presumably the only thing that was showing above the covers. Several bites across the knuckles may indicate that your mosquito-attacking skills may be somewhat lacking in the middle of the night.
You stalk off to town not once, not twice, but three, possibly four times, and finally, eventually, figure out what you can buy and get it home. With the help of your Chinese neighbour/lady in charge of teachers' apartment stuff, you erect what appears to be a lacy tent on top of your mattress, with your bedding inside. Bizarre? Absolutely. But oddly satisfying, in the end.
Jackie - 1
wen zi (oh yes, I've learned their Chinese name by now)- ZERO!!!!
Imagine trying to get to sleep every night only to be ripped from the verge of blissful oblivion by whining mosquitoes dive-bombing your face. Pleasant, right!? Truly, the pleasure can only be exceeded by the delight that is waking up in the morning and looking in the mirror to find some fifty angry red bites all over your face, hands and arms. You can tell you slept on your left side and tried in vain to hide most of your skin, because the bites are concentrated on the right side of your face--presumably the only thing that was showing above the covers. Several bites across the knuckles may indicate that your mosquito-attacking skills may be somewhat lacking in the middle of the night.
You stalk off to town not once, not twice, but three, possibly four times, and finally, eventually, figure out what you can buy and get it home. With the help of your Chinese neighbour/lady in charge of teachers' apartment stuff, you erect what appears to be a lacy tent on top of your mattress, with your bedding inside. Bizarre? Absolutely. But oddly satisfying, in the end.
Jackie - 1
wen zi (oh yes, I've learned their Chinese name by now)- ZERO!!!!
Wednesday 29 April 2009
The best lesson ever
I'd just had a Grade 2 class who were all but bouncing off the walls and I'd had to abandon my lesson plan completely to retain any semblance of order. The worst lesson of my week!
Afterwards, I walked into my second Grade 2 class several minutes early, and their previous teacher was still there, haranguing them for something or other (in Chinese, of course). Seemed a little harsh to be cutting into their break time with whatever it was, but maybe she just needed a minute. So I eat my mango outside and give her a few minutes instead of hanging out with the kids like I normally do during break time.
I come back 5 minutes in and she's STILL THERE. Seriously, they're seven years old. whatever's going on, give them a break! Come on, lady, what if they have to pee? Not to mention, this is starting to impact my lesson because the kids are gonna be all loopy and not have had time to blow off their steam. Eventually I walk into the front of the class, gradually coming closer to teachers' desk to get her to catch the hint. She doesn't. She yells at them for the ENTIRE break, and when the bell rings, she leaves. So I am standing there in front of these poor kids who just got the shit verbally beat outta them, and they are sitting quietly in their desks with their hands folded, just as they should be at the end of break time.
But they didn't GET a break! Besides ordinary sympathy which I'd think anyone would have (previous teacher excluded), I'm foreseeing a repeat of my earlier hellion class and I'm not liking the idea. I tell them all they can take 5 minutes' break now, if they need to use the washroom or do whatever. Once they get it, a few zip off right away, confirming my foresight. The rest remain in "ready to start class" position. I go around having "break time" myself, asking them silly questions and generally messing around, until a few of them catch on and mess about for a minute or two. By minute three, everyone is back in their seats, ready to go! I stand by my five minutes plan and resolutely fuck around until it's up. Then I begin class.
They are so stiff that I want to loosen them up a bit, but they are so quiet that it might be the perfect time for a story! I was going to do it at the end but this might be better. I tell a bang-up story so I decide this might accomplish both of my aims. Since I don't yet have a proper story corner with pillows and comfy goodness, I get them to bring their chairs to the back of the room and make a semicircle, which there is just enough room for. I sit on one of the back desks and bust out my ace in the hole, The Paper Bag Princess.
Now, if you are not lucky enough to have been born Canadian (it's okay, I still love you), you will not know the brilliance that is Robert Munsch. There is nothing I can do to salvage that emptiness in your childhood, so suffice it to say that he's the best kids' author ever, and The Paper Bag Princess is his most famous story.
Anyway, I bust out The Paper Bag Princess and the kids, already intrigued by the change in chair setup, are totally riveted. The TA (their Chinese English teacher, who sits in on my lessons "to translate", meaning she normally feels totally useless, I'm sure, since I don't want anyone speaking Chinese in my class), who is now more than ever superfluous, sneaks out and comes back with a camera. This may partly be because I am a crazy physical story-teller (blame a series of good drama teachers in junior high), but also because the kids are visibly way into it, leaning forward and waiting anxiously to find out what happens next, exclaiming in delight when they get to see the pictures.
After the story we play Going on a Bear Hunt, in which everyone is completely engaged and loves, and in our few minutes left we learn to play I Spy.
After the bell I am left with 30 smiling faces leaving my English class, and the Chinese teacher congratulating me on a wonderful lesson. I didn't need her to tell me how much the kids loved it; I could see for myself, but it was extra nice to get such a compliment from a more seasoned teacher. :)
I am an awesome teacher!!!
Afterwards, I walked into my second Grade 2 class several minutes early, and their previous teacher was still there, haranguing them for something or other (in Chinese, of course). Seemed a little harsh to be cutting into their break time with whatever it was, but maybe she just needed a minute. So I eat my mango outside and give her a few minutes instead of hanging out with the kids like I normally do during break time.
I come back 5 minutes in and she's STILL THERE. Seriously, they're seven years old. whatever's going on, give them a break! Come on, lady, what if they have to pee? Not to mention, this is starting to impact my lesson because the kids are gonna be all loopy and not have had time to blow off their steam. Eventually I walk into the front of the class, gradually coming closer to teachers' desk to get her to catch the hint. She doesn't. She yells at them for the ENTIRE break, and when the bell rings, she leaves. So I am standing there in front of these poor kids who just got the shit verbally beat outta them, and they are sitting quietly in their desks with their hands folded, just as they should be at the end of break time.
But they didn't GET a break! Besides ordinary sympathy which I'd think anyone would have (previous teacher excluded), I'm foreseeing a repeat of my earlier hellion class and I'm not liking the idea. I tell them all they can take 5 minutes' break now, if they need to use the washroom or do whatever. Once they get it, a few zip off right away, confirming my foresight. The rest remain in "ready to start class" position. I go around having "break time" myself, asking them silly questions and generally messing around, until a few of them catch on and mess about for a minute or two. By minute three, everyone is back in their seats, ready to go! I stand by my five minutes plan and resolutely fuck around until it's up. Then I begin class.
They are so stiff that I want to loosen them up a bit, but they are so quiet that it might be the perfect time for a story! I was going to do it at the end but this might be better. I tell a bang-up story so I decide this might accomplish both of my aims. Since I don't yet have a proper story corner with pillows and comfy goodness, I get them to bring their chairs to the back of the room and make a semicircle, which there is just enough room for. I sit on one of the back desks and bust out my ace in the hole, The Paper Bag Princess.
Now, if you are not lucky enough to have been born Canadian (it's okay, I still love you), you will not know the brilliance that is Robert Munsch. There is nothing I can do to salvage that emptiness in your childhood, so suffice it to say that he's the best kids' author ever, and The Paper Bag Princess is his most famous story.
Anyway, I bust out The Paper Bag Princess and the kids, already intrigued by the change in chair setup, are totally riveted. The TA (their Chinese English teacher, who sits in on my lessons "to translate", meaning she normally feels totally useless, I'm sure, since I don't want anyone speaking Chinese in my class), who is now more than ever superfluous, sneaks out and comes back with a camera. This may partly be because I am a crazy physical story-teller (blame a series of good drama teachers in junior high), but also because the kids are visibly way into it, leaning forward and waiting anxiously to find out what happens next, exclaiming in delight when they get to see the pictures.
After the story we play Going on a Bear Hunt, in which everyone is completely engaged and loves, and in our few minutes left we learn to play I Spy.
After the bell I am left with 30 smiling faces leaving my English class, and the Chinese teacher congratulating me on a wonderful lesson. I didn't need her to tell me how much the kids loved it; I could see for myself, but it was extra nice to get such a compliment from a more seasoned teacher. :)
I am an awesome teacher!!!
Monday 27 April 2009
Leaving town
You're right, Lucky. It's been too long. So instead of waiting until I'm settled, or until I feel like I have something entertaining to write, or until I feel happy, I will just write now, and you'll get whatever you get.
I left the school in Yongzhou. The kids were great of course, but the FAO there, who also made herself the head of the school (it was supposed to be her son), was a nightmare. In a few words, she was a mannipulative control freak, and I am lucky to be nowhere near her anymore.
Dealing with her, and realizing just how wrong the situation was, was the reason I was so lucky to have Cherie, the other foreign teacher there. She helped me so much when she came. Cherie has taught for Company for 6 years and knows how the schools are supposed to be, and what to expect as a foreign teacher. If it wasn't for her, I don't know what I would have done. I think I either would have caved to everything (that's the way I was going in the beginning, not wanting to be too demanding or to seem intolerant) and had a lousy time of it, or I would have just left, and either way I would have just thought that's the way it was. Cherie helped me to pick my battles and to stand up for myself. I learned from her and from this experience that no matter where I am, even if I am in an unfamiliar situation, there are certain things which I still know and certain values on which I shouldn't have to compromise. And done correctly, that isn't intolerance, it's teaching people how to treat you. It's making your own life the way you expect it to be.
Cherie was valuable to me as a friend as well, if I even need to say so at this point. She is a lovely, funny, warm, generous and perceptive person, and I am lucky to have met her and to have spent so much time with her. Some of the best people I've met are those friends I've gained through my worst jobs (Brooke, Jan, I'm looking at you), and this is definitely a case of that. Cherie left Yongzhou at the end of the month (she was there only for the month as a favour to Company's Owner, since the school was beginning to get a reputation thanks to her, and he couldn't get a teacher there for love or money), and when she left, I went with her. We both went back to Yangshuo, Guangxi (where Company is based) and after a well-deserved vacation, she flew back to Canada.
I stayed in Yangshuo for a few weeks. Company had been apprised of all the goings-on and had tried their hand at fixing things, but when it didn't work out they welcomed me back and put me up in YS. This is one big reason I chose this contract in the first place--they will help a teacher out of a bad situation and in the meantime you have a safe place to stay and a few meals in your belly.
My first several days in YS were mostly spent sleeping (I couldn't sleep much in Yongzhou) and just recovering from the general badness. After that, it was a really nice time. Yangshuo is a great place to hang out for a bit, and Owner College (Company's school for adults) is there, so there were tons of young Chinese people around with whom I made friends. They could practice their English with me, and a few of them helped me to learn some more Chinese. I made a few especially good friends whom it was very hard to leave and with whom I'm still in touch.
During my YS stay, I took a weekend trip to LanShan (a rural town in Hunan province) to visit G, one of the teachers who was in my Orientation class. He and I'd become friends over email, at first due to our common miseries and then due to our common awesomeness. His wife, ZJ, is Chinese and basically speaks no English, so I was able to improve my Chinese a ton trying to get to know her :) My visit was really nice, and they agreed. It's always nice to have someone ask you to stay longer! G will go back to England soon, but one way or another I will visit with those guys again; they are good people.
In the meantime, I was going to start working at a new primary school Owner was going to open in YS. That ended up being a longer process than I could really afford (I was living in YS for free but not pulling a paycheque), so when a teacher left a school near Suzhou, I was still available, and Owner sent me there.
I did my research with B, the teacher trainer and teacher support, before agreeing to come here. And she was really helpful. She gave me the rundown of everything, and ultimately told me that this was quite a good opportunity for me as a teacher. So I took it.
I left the school in Yongzhou. The kids were great of course, but the FAO there, who also made herself the head of the school (it was supposed to be her son), was a nightmare. In a few words, she was a mannipulative control freak, and I am lucky to be nowhere near her anymore.
Dealing with her, and realizing just how wrong the situation was, was the reason I was so lucky to have Cherie, the other foreign teacher there. She helped me so much when she came. Cherie has taught for Company for 6 years and knows how the schools are supposed to be, and what to expect as a foreign teacher. If it wasn't for her, I don't know what I would have done. I think I either would have caved to everything (that's the way I was going in the beginning, not wanting to be too demanding or to seem intolerant) and had a lousy time of it, or I would have just left, and either way I would have just thought that's the way it was. Cherie helped me to pick my battles and to stand up for myself. I learned from her and from this experience that no matter where I am, even if I am in an unfamiliar situation, there are certain things which I still know and certain values on which I shouldn't have to compromise. And done correctly, that isn't intolerance, it's teaching people how to treat you. It's making your own life the way you expect it to be.
Cherie was valuable to me as a friend as well, if I even need to say so at this point. She is a lovely, funny, warm, generous and perceptive person, and I am lucky to have met her and to have spent so much time with her. Some of the best people I've met are those friends I've gained through my worst jobs (Brooke, Jan, I'm looking at you), and this is definitely a case of that. Cherie left Yongzhou at the end of the month (she was there only for the month as a favour to Company's Owner, since the school was beginning to get a reputation thanks to her, and he couldn't get a teacher there for love or money), and when she left, I went with her. We both went back to Yangshuo, Guangxi (where Company is based) and after a well-deserved vacation, she flew back to Canada.
I stayed in Yangshuo for a few weeks. Company had been apprised of all the goings-on and had tried their hand at fixing things, but when it didn't work out they welcomed me back and put me up in YS. This is one big reason I chose this contract in the first place--they will help a teacher out of a bad situation and in the meantime you have a safe place to stay and a few meals in your belly.
My first several days in YS were mostly spent sleeping (I couldn't sleep much in Yongzhou) and just recovering from the general badness. After that, it was a really nice time. Yangshuo is a great place to hang out for a bit, and Owner College (Company's school for adults) is there, so there were tons of young Chinese people around with whom I made friends. They could practice their English with me, and a few of them helped me to learn some more Chinese. I made a few especially good friends whom it was very hard to leave and with whom I'm still in touch.
During my YS stay, I took a weekend trip to LanShan (a rural town in Hunan province) to visit G, one of the teachers who was in my Orientation class. He and I'd become friends over email, at first due to our common miseries and then due to our common awesomeness. His wife, ZJ, is Chinese and basically speaks no English, so I was able to improve my Chinese a ton trying to get to know her :) My visit was really nice, and they agreed. It's always nice to have someone ask you to stay longer! G will go back to England soon, but one way or another I will visit with those guys again; they are good people.
In the meantime, I was going to start working at a new primary school Owner was going to open in YS. That ended up being a longer process than I could really afford (I was living in YS for free but not pulling a paycheque), so when a teacher left a school near Suzhou, I was still available, and Owner sent me there.
I did my research with B, the teacher trainer and teacher support, before agreeing to come here. And she was really helpful. She gave me the rundown of everything, and ultimately told me that this was quite a good opportunity for me as a teacher. So I took it.
Thursday 26 March 2009
Tugging on those heart-strings all the time
Walking home the other day, I heard shouts of "Jackie lao shr! Hello!" and found four cute little Chinese kids surrounding me. Having used up their English in about 30 seconds flat, one of them continued to try to talk to me in Chinese, which I only understand scattered words of (on a good day). Regardless, they followed me home and had tea with me. Good thing I had some snacks on hand: baby oranges, peanuts and sunflower seeds! Tea was a bit makeshift; I only have two mugs and a glass, so two people had to drink from empty jelly and honey jars.
Between my digital camera, the masks I'd made for a lesson on emotions, and a puzzle which was a prize in an empty cookie box, they seemed to find enough to amuse themselves with in my apartment. They spent a pleasant hour or so, washed their own tea cups (water only, as most Chinese people do. But still! Five- or six-year-olds entertained themselves, then washed their own cups! They are so good!!), then left when I mimed that I would like to rest.
How can you resist?? That's right, you can't.
Between my digital camera, the masks I'd made for a lesson on emotions, and a puzzle which was a prize in an empty cookie box, they seemed to find enough to amuse themselves with in my apartment. They spent a pleasant hour or so, washed their own tea cups (water only, as most Chinese people do. But still! Five- or six-year-olds entertained themselves, then washed their own cups! They are so good!!), then left when I mimed that I would like to rest.
How can you resist?? That's right, you can't.
Sunday 22 March 2009
Friday 20 March 2009
Small things
(Apologies to m., who has read some of this before.)
Here I have been thinking a lot about how the small things end up being so huge. Your friendly acquaintance saying that s/he wants to hang out, but then bailing, that's huge when you're in a different country and have no friends in this city. A stranger helping you to understand a simple word so that you can buy food, when otherwise you might have starved--also huge. Those people don't realize it, but those things are huge.
I finally understand why my foreign friends in
Sometimes you don’t know what a big effect one of your small actions will have on someone. I think that this applies to teaching too, especially given that a teacher can also be your friend and fellow. Maybe you think the kid isn’t learning anything in your class, but you smiled at him once and made him feel more confident about himself, more willing to try something new or challenging.
Think about it. And know that I am grateful to have had your small kindnesses making huge effects in my life.
Friday 13 March 2009
Lesson plans
It's midnight, and I'm just now writing out my lesson plan(s) for tomorrow and Sunday. I'm a bad English teacher. I've been planning my lesson in my head all week, but it pays to write it down, if only to time things out and figure out exactly how it's going to (or at least, supposed to) go down.
I had never before realized how much of themselves, how much heart and energy and soul my teachers put into their lesson plans. Especially the good ones. Basically everything that happens in my classes, good and bad and in-between, is my doing. If I plan something that works, score for me. If I try something and no one gets it, or it's over their heads, or they are bored or it doesn't work, me again.
Most of my teacher friends here in China get to teach the same lesson plan all week, which I'm super jealous of. It's funny though to know that Monday's first class are always the guinea pigs (wonder if they know that!) and by Friday's class you have it down, although you are probably sick of it by then. Probably Wednesday's classes get the best lessons.
The most annoying part (truly, there aren't many annoying parts, but this is one) for me is that with the primary guys, I don't really get the chance to do this. Each of my classes on the weekend are pretty different from one another so I often make different lesson plans even when the theme is the same.
With the high school classes, I try out the plan on the first class, then make adjustments and improvements based on reactions, then the next class runs a little smoother, and the next and the next. So I get to work the lesson plan magic on Wednesdays only (the only day I teach HS).
Anyway, secretly I'm not such a bad teacher. We're doing emotions this week (I want my little guys to be able to express themselves to me! I want to know how they're doing!) and I thought of making masks to help! I have paper plates in my kitchen. I have markers, and scissors. I am the best English teacher ever. (Until tomorrow. We will see how this lesson works out!)
I had never before realized how much of themselves, how much heart and energy and soul my teachers put into their lesson plans. Especially the good ones. Basically everything that happens in my classes, good and bad and in-between, is my doing. If I plan something that works, score for me. If I try something and no one gets it, or it's over their heads, or they are bored or it doesn't work, me again.
Most of my teacher friends here in China get to teach the same lesson plan all week, which I'm super jealous of. It's funny though to know that Monday's first class are always the guinea pigs (wonder if they know that!) and by Friday's class you have it down, although you are probably sick of it by then. Probably Wednesday's classes get the best lessons.
The most annoying part (truly, there aren't many annoying parts, but this is one) for me is that with the primary guys, I don't really get the chance to do this. Each of my classes on the weekend are pretty different from one another so I often make different lesson plans even when the theme is the same.
With the high school classes, I try out the plan on the first class, then make adjustments and improvements based on reactions, then the next class runs a little smoother, and the next and the next. So I get to work the lesson plan magic on Wednesdays only (the only day I teach HS).
Anyway, secretly I'm not such a bad teacher. We're doing emotions this week (I want my little guys to be able to express themselves to me! I want to know how they're doing!) and I thought of making masks to help! I have paper plates in my kitchen. I have markers, and scissors. I am the best English teacher ever. (Until tomorrow. We will see how this lesson works out!)
Thursday 12 March 2009
Treats
The other day I went for a short walk with the Chinese English teacher at the primary school, and he bought me a bubble tea. In
- sago (like giant black tapioca; this is the one thing I omit since I’m not a fan)
- small white pearls which are probably actual tapioca
- irregular blocks of something that looks like root beer jello but isn’t as sweet
- rectangular, fluorescent pink jellies
- rectangular yellow jellies
- peanuts
- raisins
- red beans
By the time they have put all this in, you wonder if there is even room left for liquid! Nevertheless, at this point they top it off with a couple ladles (hot or cold, your choice) of something like sweet black tea with soymilk, just enough to get everything swimming around. Then they stick a plastic spoon in it, and you can take a super fat straw, and you’re good to go!
If the fact that I took the time to type all this up doesn’t give you a clue, I’m a fan. I don’t know what it’s called (I just point to the appropriate Chinese item on the sign), but I’m a fan.
*******
Speaking of tasty treats, Canadian children would be shocked and appalled when running for the ice cream man here. When you hear the little ringing bells of a truck moving slowly up the street and stopping often, here it’s the garbage truck!!
Monday 9 March 2009
Sunday 8 March 2009
Happiness is...
...the sun finally coming out after a week of rain and cold.
...meeting other foreigners (it feels wrong for it to be THIS awesome)!
...at the end of a day, tired and hungry, finally finding a noodle house that's not only open, but filled with friendly Chinese people and wonderful food for cheap (Dad--a heaping plate of noodles with veggies and egg was 3 yuan--not even 50 cents Canadian!) :)
...getting the pronunciation right for once. Even if it is *only* once.
...knowing what you're doing slightly more since this week is the second time around.
...naming Chinese students after your friends and family. So far Damon is kind of a brat, but Gavin has been improving immensely!
...running into one of your students in the courtyard on an off day, and getting a card from her (complete with sparkly jumping bunnies, rainbows and hearts) that says in careful printing inside:
"J a k e
I like your listen, thanks very much.
S u s a n 2009.3.5"
...waking up early on a Saturday AND a Sunday... for really cute, bright, fun kids who are learning and improving and who shout, "Jackie lao shr!!" when they see you coming from an upstairs window.
...meeting other foreigners (it feels wrong for it to be THIS awesome)!
...at the end of a day, tired and hungry, finally finding a noodle house that's not only open, but filled with friendly Chinese people and wonderful food for cheap (Dad--a heaping plate of noodles with veggies and egg was 3 yuan--not even 50 cents Canadian!) :)
...getting the pronunciation right for once. Even if it is *only* once.
...knowing what you're doing slightly more since this week is the second time around.
...naming Chinese students after your friends and family. So far Damon is kind of a brat, but Gavin has been improving immensely!
...running into one of your students in the courtyard on an off day, and getting a card from her (complete with sparkly jumping bunnies, rainbows and hearts) that says in careful printing inside:
"J a k e
I like your listen, thanks very much.
S u s a n 2009.3.5"
...waking up early on a Saturday AND a Sunday... for really cute, bright, fun kids who are learning and improving and who shout, "Jackie lao shr!!" when they see you coming from an upstairs window.
Sunday 1 March 2009
Things I know how to say in Chinese
Ni hao, wo jiao Jackie.
Hello, my name is Jackie.
Ni jiao shenme mingzi?
What is your name?
Xinghui.
Nice to meet you.
Xie Xie.
Thank you.
Dui bu qi.
Sorry.
Wo zai xue xie Putonghua.
I am learning to speak Mandarin.
Ting bu dong.
I don't understand.
Wo xi huan ping guo.
I like apples.
Ni xi huan ming fan ma?
Do you like rice?
Wo bu xi huan dan gao.
I don't like cake. (Of course we all know this is a lie, like the cake itself.)
You mei you xi huan zhe ge?
Do you like this?
Mei you.
I don't like it.
You.
I do.
Qing.
Please.
Chr le ma?
How are you? (lit. Have you eaten? Rhetorical.)
Hello, my name is Jackie.
Ni jiao shenme mingzi?
What is your name?
Xinghui.
Nice to meet you.
Xie Xie.
Thank you.
Dui bu qi.
Sorry.
Wo zai xue xie Putonghua.
I am learning to speak Mandarin.
Ting bu dong.
I don't understand.
Wo xi huan ping guo.
I like apples.
Ni xi huan ming fan ma?
Do you like rice?
Wo bu xi huan dan gao.
I don't like cake. (Of course we all know this is a lie, like the cake itself.)
You mei you xi huan zhe ge?
Do you like this?
Mei you.
I don't like it.
You.
I do.
Qing.
Please.
Chr le ma?
How are you? (lit. Have you eaten? Rhetorical.)
Culture Shock
I just found out what culture shock is.
It turns out I didn’t know before.
Culture shock is your new acquaintance saying something innocent and polite in intent, but it leaves you feeling that tightness in your chest you get when something unpleasant is forced on you.
Culture shock is crying over chocolate cake.
Culture shock is fighting back a headache at the thought of your host taking you shopping at the end of a day that was slightly stressful, not because of the day itself, but because only a week ago you moved away from your home country and you have been in airports and planes and cars and trains and strangers’ homes and unfamiliar beds this whole time, and you have left everything you knew save a few pairs of socks which are not warm enough here.
Culture shock is having nothing to wear because you just washed your clothes and they have been drying for two days on the balcony.
Culture shock is everyone talking another language and you know it’s about you and no one translates. Culture shock is everyone talking another language and probably it has nothing to do with you so you sit there quietly and look around at your unfamiliar surroundings until someone has a use for you.
Culture shock is being alternately stifled and abandoned.
Culture shock is living on snacks because you don’t know how to make this food or where to buy it or what to buy.
Culture shock is writing a script in preparation for an encounter with your neighbour.
These are the things I have learned. I promise to be more lighthearted next time.
It turns out I didn’t know before.
Culture shock is your new acquaintance saying something innocent and polite in intent, but it leaves you feeling that tightness in your chest you get when something unpleasant is forced on you.
Culture shock is crying over chocolate cake.
Culture shock is fighting back a headache at the thought of your host taking you shopping at the end of a day that was slightly stressful, not because of the day itself, but because only a week ago you moved away from your home country and you have been in airports and planes and cars and trains and strangers’ homes and unfamiliar beds this whole time, and you have left everything you knew save a few pairs of socks which are not warm enough here.
Culture shock is having nothing to wear because you just washed your clothes and they have been drying for two days on the balcony.
Culture shock is everyone talking another language and you know it’s about you and no one translates. Culture shock is everyone talking another language and probably it has nothing to do with you so you sit there quietly and look around at your unfamiliar surroundings until someone has a use for you.
Culture shock is being alternately stifled and abandoned.
Culture shock is living on snacks because you don’t know how to make this food or where to buy it or what to buy.
Culture shock is writing a script in preparation for an encounter with your neighbour.
These are the things I have learned. I promise to be more lighthearted next time.
Friday 27 February 2009
Welcome to China.
Welcome to
After my medical exam (for work and residence permit) this morning in a Guilin hospital which didn’t have toilet paper or soap in the bathroom, I came back to Yangshuo, said goodbye to Juno, and packed my things into a car with a driver who spoke no English. The four-hour drive to Yongzhou was a time for reflection but I didn’t yet know enough to anticipate.
I sit here in a four-bedroom apartment, possibly twice the size of my apartment back in
It’s warmer here in Yongzhou (about 6 degrees) than it was in
My FAO (Foreign Affairs Officer, foreign teacher liaison basically), Lily, warned me to shut my door instantly when I enter my apartment because apparently Chinese people will be very nosy about my life and that is a bad thing. Then she left and I realized this apartment furnished with dishes, a tv, and everything I need to live does not have any towels. After my day I definitely need a shower! Lily is gone (this is a good thing—she is very high-energy! I needed some chill/cry time), I don’t have her phone number, and anyway I don’t have a phone yet.
So, I decide to visit the neighbour I’d caught a glimpse of in the hallway. She looked nice and I’d waved at her in the instant before Lily’d shut the door earlier. The barrier to this visit is that I speak virtually no Chinese yet, and I understand even less. So I get out my trusty and already well-worn Mandarin phrase book, and I write down the pinyin pronunciation for the sentences I am trying out:
Ni hao. (Hello.)
Wo jiao Jackie. (My name is Jackie.)
Ni jiao shenme mingzi? (What’s your name?)
Xinghui. (Nice to meet you.)
Dui bu qi ruguo tai chi dao. (Sorry if it’s too late.) (Note, this is likely totally wrong as I just cobbled together the words and as yet have no concept of sentence structure.)
Wo bu you mao jin. (I don’t have a towel.)
Qing wo neng jie yi mao jin ma? (Please, may I borrow a towel?)
I screw up my courage, figure out how my front door opens and closes (trickier than it sounds, I assure you), and knock on my neighbours’ door, armed with script and book. The girl opens the door cautiously, then says excitedly, “Hello! Come in, come in!!”
Confused but soldiering on, I whip out my script and attempt the first few sentences, which past introductions, she totally doesn’t understand. Meanwhile she and her mother usher me in enthusiastically, “Sit down! Come in! This is my mother, we are so glad to meet you!!” The mother rushes to the kitchen and comes back frantically dumping candies into a bowl. They motion rapidly and the girl continues, “Sit down! Sit down!!”
I pause to realize her English is far better than my Chinese. I take one of the urged candies in the midst of my young neighbour (Judy)’s obvious excitement. Then I apologize three ways, explain my situation in English and ask for a towel, which is the only word she doesn’t understand. Here my script finally comes in handy (mao jin, in case you ever need to know), and they rush off and return with two small, cute towels which they give to me happily. Then I am allowed to return to my apartment, along with more profuse welcomes and exhortations to come over and visit again. In turn I offer my profuse, embarrassed thanks and the same in return, and manage to get my (unlocked) front door open in under 5 minutes.
I have solved my first real Chinese problem. (Buckland coddled me pretty good for the week of orientation.) After having left my first Chinese friends in Yangshuo this afternoon, I have made my first Yongzhou friends. I am in my first Chinese apartment, for good and bad. Sketchy gas connection (to be inspected tomorrow)? Maybe. Echoing apartment which is freezing cold everywhere? Definitely. Warm in my heart? Finally.
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