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Three years ago, before embarking on my first adventure to China in the summer of 2006, I read Minnesota native Bill Holm's Coming Home Crazy, a collection of stories about his experience as a foreigner teaching English in China. Skimming through the well-constructed lines of his novel, I found myself awestruck by the accuracy of his recollections, and their likeness to my own experiences this year. Kids bundled up on the street starting at me and shouting waiguoren-foreigner, the bureaucratic nightmare that is any government-owned institution, and the deluge of spitting, smoking and the inescapable smog that hovers over the city. I have realized that not only am I not unique in my occasional frustrations with this country, but it also turns out that things I had previously considered particularly observant are actually noticed by quite a few people! Inspired by his stories though, and with a conscious effort to avoid regurgitating the same observations made by most other visitors to
China, the following is my second report, after a short four and a half months in Nanjing.
"Creative Go-Aheadism"
It's always a nerve-wracking experience when you're evaluated at your job, and though I would never admit it to them, I was as nervous as my students were about the results of their final exams - this being my first unbiased evaluation of my effectiveness as a teacher. No doubt my students had fun in my classroom, a brief but welcome respite from their grueling 10-hour school day, but how much English did they actually learn? I was confident that I had clarified a few of their distorted perceptions of America (such as that American high school is (unfortunately) not as it is depicted in the movie High School Musical, or that shop class in high school does not in fact teach students how to become a more capable shopper), but my primary objective was to make them more comfortable actually speaking the language.
Certain concepts evidently evaded my youngest students, as I received test answers like, "I see a lot of beautiful fish in Pilgrim," and "I like carving my shoes with lots of colors." Encouraging though, were tests that came back with complete explanations of the story of Thanksgiving, detailed descriptions of the US Electoral College, and perfectly constructed and thoughtful haiku poems. It is indescribably satisfying to receive homework assignments devoid of previously common mistakes that had the same effect on me as nails scraping against a chalkboard - "Eat vegetable every days is good for my healthy," or "After five years, I will go to the college and becoming famous." I certainly feel the payoffs of being a teacher when students come up after class asking to do that day's class activity again next week, or when kids ask if they can write me a letter while I'm back in the States. Simply being appreciated will never get old.
One of the more entertaining events since my last report was Christmas in Nanjing. A holiday enthusiast myself, often required to single-handedly decorate the Christmas tree and maintain a constant stream of Christmas music at home, I was somewhat skeptical of the Chinafication of this holiday. But Nanjing certainly stepped up for the occasion, with brightly lit Christmas trees in front of hotels (some oddly and unexplainably positioned upside-down), festive music playing in restaurants, and store clerks donning Santa hats. Despite that Christmas is not an officially celebrated holiday, my students seemed to have an enthusiasm for Christmas that was occasionally fearsome to behold. Daily streams of questions, text messages and carol singing exhausted even my high tolerance for the holiday season. I was fortunate enough to find an outlet for their Christmas spirit, through an opportunity to write articles about Christmas to be published in the magazine that I work for in Nanjing. Several students
submitted articles and pictures, with detailed explanations about Christmas traditions, Santa's "flying elks," and how Rudolph is able to fly because of his routine intake of gasoline. Even before my lessons on Christmas, the students were surprisingly informed about the holiday festivities, inventing creative descriptions when their limited vocabulary failed them ("little men with funny ears make presents!"). Sirius, a student infamous for her obsession with brushing her teeth and reading Harry Potter, and whose English proficiency far exceeds that of her classmates, blurted out her own guess as to how gifts are delivered - "Obama gives all the kids presents at Christmas!" - causing the whole class, and myself especially, to burst into laughter.
In preparation for Christmas Day, all of our students spent weeks rehearsing performances of their own renditions of famous fairy tales, Christmas carols and short plays, all in English. On one particular Wednesday in December, during the hour allotted for English Corner, several classes of students came down to practice their performances for us, accompanied by their teachers. Most amusing to me was that the teachers wanted us to give the students suggestions on their choreography when I was wholly distracted by their lyrics: "Dashing through the snow, on a muh muh muh muh sleigh." When I tried to teach them the correct words however, a series of discouraged sighs led me to just give in and sing their amended version along with them. Despite the questionable pronunciation, the Christmas performances were highly entertaining. Sleeping Beauty, Snow White with a train of seven dwarfs chanting "one, two, one, two," and a choreographed rendition of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, all definitely had
Jordan and I laughing hysterically. A highlight for the students (as well as for Fang Laoshi) was Jordan dressed up as Santa Claus in an authentic, though somewhat dated, ensemble, throwing out candies, small oranges and peanuts to the masses of excited students. The students even showered us with cards and presents, from boxes of chocolate to my very own bright orange, smog facemask. Christmas was definitely one of the most memorable things that has happened so far in NJ.
"Attention Your Head"
The more I integrate myself into the city and bravely leave the international refuge that is our residential community, the more I come to understand the way things work in this city. On a frosty day in December, in preparation for a visit from my friend, Becca Weiner from Grinnell, I made my way to the post office building, where they sell everything from postage to cell phones to airline tickets, to purchase a cell phone SIM card. The uniformed woman working at the counter was apparently having a rough day, as evidenced by her forced courtesy and impatience with my broken Chinese. After working out the logistics of purchasing a SIM card, the woman swiveled her computer screen toward me and asked me to choose from a seemingly infinite list of telephone numbers, each having a different price, ranging from 100 to well over 400 kuai. Assuming there had to be some fundamental difference between these numbers to account for the price discrepancy, I tried to ask the clerk. After fifteen minutes of her trying
to explain the difference to me, while the crowd of customers slowly mounted behind me, it finally hit me: people pay a higher price for a more auspicious telephone number. A good combination of digits or a string of numbers that contains no fours (which sound like the character for death in Chinese) is worth a few hundred extra kuai. Completely astonished, I simply chose the most inexpensive option, hoping Becca wouldn't mind too much if her inauspicious number resulted in a few missed calls and possibly faulty reception during her two-week visit. I later learned from my good friend Felix, an expert on everything Nanjing, that it's perfectly normal for someone to dish out an additional hundred kuai or so for the lifetime of luck that comes with an auspicious phone number. News to me.
Apart from sudden cultural awakenings and school obligations, my so-called extra-curriculars have also improved these past few months. I am slowly earning more clout at the magazine, receiving longer article assignments and being given more prominent interviews. On one such assignment, I was told to go to Deji Plaza, Nanjing's ritzy department store, to meet with a store manager about a brand-marketing event. Turns out that what I understood to be "store manager" was actually "Italian designer," and instead of finding out about an event, I was in fact attending the event. My coworkers ushered me over to the VIP seats of a Piero Guidi fashion show, where Piero Guidi himself was marketing his new line of handbags. After the show, I was allowed an interview with the designer (using questions I had prepared for the store manager) and was invited to a special gathering in the store. Other less prestigious but equally baffling interviews have occurred, such as with the manager of Xici.net, China's vers
ion of MySpace, as well as with a prominent modern artist who lives in Nanjing. This has been an invaluable and hugely entertaining lesson in adaptability, and I've certainly learned what it means to literally be prepared for anything.
In my quest for a Chinese tutor in an attempt to tackle this language head-on, I was introduced to a Nanjing University English professor, Liu Laoshi, who has arranged to give me three hours of Chinese instruction every week in exchange for my helping her 13-year-old son become more comfortable speaking English. This exchange has been ideal, and with contagious enthusiasm, she comes prepared every week with lesson plans and homework assignments. My interaction with her son has been successful as well, and our lessons usually involve role-play using the lessons in his textbook, such as selling a house, or going on vacation, which always include his two beloved fat cats as main characters, and result in his erupting into a fit of giggles. With this added push, I'm sure that my Chinese will continue to improve into next semester.
"Factualistic Pioneer"
One of the major highlights of this past quarter, was a visit from my good friend, Becca Weiner. Becca was a model guest, and her interest in history, honest curiosity about everything and love of jiaozi-dumplings made for a very fun visit. Taking advantage of the chance to do some of the more touristy things in the city, I took her to visit Purple Mountain and Sun Yat-sen's Mausoleum, the Linggu Pagoda, the infamous underground, psychedelic mall Fashion Lady, and the highly anticipated Nanjing Massacre Museum. The museum gave a very comprehensive account of the 1937 tragedy, including a great deal on the Nanjing International Safety Zone, which was located in the area surrounding Nanjing University. Nazi party member John Rabe was responsible for the direction of the Safety Zone, and he along with 20 other foreigners remained in Nanjing to peacefully oppose the Japanese, rescuing close to 300,000 people (Iris Chang's The Rape of Nanking gives a fascinating and detailed report of events, esp
ecially
considering that this incident is still today horribly undocumented). I discovered that I actually pass by John Rabe's residence on my way to work every morning, and was completely oblivious to this fact, proof that there are historical finds literally everywhere in the city.
Another noteworthy event during Becca's visit was the New Year's Bazaar at NDFZ, a yearly tradition where students in each grade sell small trinkets they've brought from home to raise money for their class. Here, Becca was a real hit. She had a great time buying comic books, key-chains and silver, plastic boas from the kids, who loved bargaining with her for a better price. Afterwards, we went to a series of parties in each of the classes, where kids were doing performances, and Becca was bold enough to sing Britney Spears' new hit song, "Womanizer," with one of my Junior students, who impressively knows the lyrics (and dance moves) to more American pop songs than most American teenagers.
"Danger of Getting Drowned"
Becca's continual surprise and astute observations while touring around Nanjing really reawakened me to all the oddities of the city, especially her taking notice of the signs that are scattered around the city with questionable English, a few of which are headings for the sections of this report. Several times she would look at me oddly for something I did that I now consider perfectly ordinary, and I realize how much I am willingly "drowning" in this culture. Or how, according to my ever-observant mother, I am "being lost to China." As I write this now from the comforts of home, I've noticed several things since coming back: I prefer the comfort of using chopsticks to the unfamiliarity of a fork and knife; I automatically press the "close doors" button on elevators with an air of mock impatience; I am honestly surprised when signs in the US contain no grammatical mistakes; and I refuse to pay more than $10 for anything.
I also seem to have a different perspective on things, having removed my hypercritical, American blindfold. Children point at me out of curiosity, not judgment. The train station and post office make absolute sense once you understand the system (of course one should pay more for a lucky phone number. Duh, what was I thinking!?). And having to constantly dodge spit puddles on sidewalks and clouds of cigarette smoke certainly adds a bit of excitement to the daily commute. And though it's only been a few weeks, I miss my Nanjing family of Jordan, Felix, Maggie Connolly and Mike Hsieh. So perhaps I haven't come home crazy necessarily, just with a rounder understanding of what it means to live in China. And though it's a great adventure and all that, it's certainly nice to be able to come up for air.
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