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.

Just checking in...

...and giving a shout-out to Fry and Leela. Dammit, I love you guys.

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 Canada seemed so ridiculously grateful for things that I would help them with, which to me seemed small. For example, I often helped an immigrant Indian friend talk to official people--not because she doesn't speak English, just because I am more assertive and I know my shit, and I won't let her get taken for a ride. Or I helped her buy stuff, or told her where to go to get a certain thing. There's just no way to know or do those things for yourself sometimes, and that's why you have friends and fellows.

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.

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!)

Treats

I think you know that you’re settling into a place when you can find something unique to that area which comforts you or makes you happy.

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 Canada we have bubble tea, but I assure you the stuff at home has nothing on this!!! Basically we got the house special, which means they take a cup and put 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!!

I miss

- swimming
- bare feet
- soap
- whole wheat bread (and its friends, toast and sandwich)
- you

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.

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.)

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.