Top 5 People I'd Rather Hit Than My Students

One of the teachers recently told me that she does not believe I’m strict enough with the children. I find this interesting because when compared with Kayleigh, Sam, and Elena, I fear I’m going to be labeled the “American Bitch.” They’re all so much calmer than I. I yell. I’m a yeller. But you see, to American ears, Chinese people speaking to one another always sounds like they’re yelling and fighting. Really they are saying “I love you,” and “pass the chili.” When I told a Chinese teacher about the trouble I was having with Harry, she said “oh yes, I hit him all the time.” Hitting. Cultural differences. Not quite my style, however I’ve made a list of the top five people I’d rather hit than my students.

Top 5 People I’d Rather Hit Than My Students

1)            I’m not exactly sure who is giving the children their English names, but I really wish I could find her, flick her in the head, hand her a RECENT book of baby names, and tell her that if she names one more girl “Betty” I will beat her.  If I am lucky enough to have two girls in one class, one will always be named Betty. The other will be Kitty. I have a class of six with James I and James II. I have a class of eight with Big Jerry and Little Jerry. Big Jerry haunts my nightmares…. All the American Susans and Bettys are at least fifty. “Hanty” is not a name. I don’t think any Esters survived World War II. And all non-Hispanic female Angels are prostitutes. I even have a boy named Zoe. Truly terrible kid. Refuses to participate, and gives you this glare like he’s going to eat your family. Seriously, his glare is worse than mine (which is really saying something for those of you who know me.) My theory is that a teacher he terrorized named him Zoe as payback. For my last day of teaching I received the most wonderful gift a teacher can get: a student named Slytherin.

2)            Those people who don’t put diapers on their babies, then have them pee in the middle of walking streets.

3)            The asshole at Volkswagen who invented what I like to call “seatbelt blockers.” Fancy looking sticks with the VW logo, that you can put in your buckle to prevent belts from going in.  According to my host family, “you only need a seatbelt on the highway.” Not on the crazy deathtrap city streets, where cab drivers swerve like madmen, walking paths are driving lanes, and one-lane streets exist but no one-way streets. I miss suing culture.

4)            People who drive on the sidewalk, then beep at you to get out of their way. THEY’RE THE ONES IN THE WAY!!

5)            We’ve all seen them. They swarm into rest stops and devour everything in sight. They aggressively weave through the most touristy attractions, while all wearing the same hat. Under the command of a ferocious woman with a flag and a microphone, they follow blindly. They make it impossible to actually see the tourist attractions because they’re so busy holding up peace fingers and taking pictures in front of them. You know what I’m talking about. Chinese tour groups. And somebody, I’m not sure who, thought it would be fun for us to be a part of one. Outside, in the 40 degree Celsius weather. Well…I mean…it's a cultural experience.

One of the company’s excuses for paying us so little to work so hard was that we would receive a free cultural trip at the end. So here I am in Phoenix (tourist trap hell.) It’s like Paris: there are lots of different bridges for crossing the river; it’s packed with tourists; things are waaaaay more expensive than they should be…okay that’s where the comparisons end. It’s basically an old minority town, where the natives sell cheap knock offs of their traditional jewelry, and tourist can dress up in their traditional garb and take pictures along the river.  The bridges I mentioned are actually terribly precarious logs slapped together. They’re about 3ft wide with tourists aggressively trying to pass each other on both sides. After the first day we’d had enough of the heat and the tour group (without an English translator.) We turned ourselves nocturnal. The second day we slept all day, and pa…went to museums all night.

On the bright side, I picked up some beautiful jewelry and saw a weird ass magic show. One magician claimed to have hypnotized a chicken. (I think the chicken was just well trained.) Another magician not only swallowed fire, but put it all over his body. And I mean ALL over his body. It was totally worth the 6-hour weakly air-conditioned bus ride. Not to seem ungrateful… but Person Who Planned This With No Thought At All: you’re number five.

I actually do love being in China…if that doesn’t come across in this post. 

Coke Zero

I really hope that I am making some sort of impact at the school. If just one student walks away pronouncing “the” as “the” instead of “zhe,” or maybe gets to university in London and understands when someone tells her they pulled an “all-nighter,” I’ll be happy.  Right now I suppose I’ll have to settle for knowing I truly affected the school in one way: Coke Zero.  My first two weeks in Changde I thought the only place to buy Coke Zero was Walmart. THEN suddenly one magnificent day, there was a single Coke Zero at the small store beneath the school. I eagerly went up to buy it, but OH NO! it wasn’t for sale! I guess it must have been the storeowner’s personal drink. But the next day something MIRACULOUS happened! The store was selling three Coke Zeros! Sam and I (let’s be honest) frantically purchased them. Teaching is exhausting; we began buying two a day. And then it spread like wildfire. All of our students began buying them. The store fridge now contains just as many Coke Zeros other drinks. The storeowner knows me. He always hands me the delightful beverage before I can even ask for it. Someday Chinese scientists will be studying the aspartame cancer outbreak that struck Changde’s children the hardest. That was me boys, that was me.

I mean “girls.” That was me GIRLS, that was me. In a previous post, “These things look weird without a title,” I wrote about how the boys greatly outnumber the girls in my classes at the very expensive school. In contrast, the less expensive school has a much more even boy-girl distribution. After consulting with one of the Chinese teachers, Nicole, I concluded that it was gender discrimination. However, a recent conversation with another Chinese teacher, Magic, made me wonder if I hadn’t jumped to conclusions. She said that girls are simply easier, therefore parents don’t have to spend extra money on the expensive school. The boys need the small class sizes; they need someone constantly making sure they are paying attention. Girls will pay attention in the big classes, so there’s no need to pay more for smaller class sizes. She told me that gender discrimination doesn’t happen anymore in the cities. I didn’t really know what to think. Nicole had told me herself that it was gender discrimination, but Magic seemed to have a point. The few girls in my classes were always so much better behaved and focused.

Then a new school appeared on my schedule. It was a kindergarten, the only one run by the company. Since there is only one English kindergarten, there are no price options. My first day at the school I was terrified. What was I going to do with a class of thirteen four-year-olds??? What I didn’t expect was that in a class of thirteen, I  would have only two girls. I don’t want to make assumptions anymore…so do with those numbers what you will.

The teachers at the kindergarten were such sweethearts. On my first day two of them shyly asked if I would have lunch with them. They bought me way more food than I could ever eat, and refused to let me pay for anything. I was surprised because most of the teachers at the school in which I usually teach seem a little wary of me. Perhaps it’s because I’m always with the other Americans. Perhaps we’re much more approachable when we’re alone. When living in homestay, it’s so nice to take a break and just talk to someone in rapid-fire English (who totally gets it) for a few hours a day. But I think in being together at school so much, the Northwestern teachers made ourselves unapproachable. To truly immerse oneself in a culture, and make the most native friends as possible, perhaps one has to forgo some of that rapid-fire English time. 

5 Senses

Asia I’ve found (well at least China, India, Cambodia) is constant sensory overload. I love it.

Seeing

It’s not an uncommon experience in the US to walk down the stairs and catch someone drinking straight from the milk or orange juice carton. You make a little awkward eye contact. They giggle. You role your eyes because it’s not really your place to tell them to stop. I had a very similar experience with my host grandfather. The only difference (and I kid you not) was that he was drinking straight from the teakettle.  Seriously, spout in mouth straight from the pot.

Smelling

I was walking to lunch with a teacher whose English name is Magic. I took a breath, and all of a sudden I was coughing and chocking.  I didn’t understand what was happening. My eyes were burning and I was chocking on air! When I was finally able to compose myself, Magic pointed to a giant pile of hot peppers across the street from us. “Those are very very spicy,” she said, “we won’t take this street back.” The air is too spicy for me here. THE AIR!  That’s it. I’m going back to America.

Tasting

You know what’s delicious? Cold, sweet, green (mung) bean soup. No one at home believes me, but I swear to God it’s amazing! It’s so refreshing on a hot  40 degree Celsius (boy did I pick the right time to come to China) day. Who would have thought that my new food obsession would be literally translated as “green bean mush.”

Hearing

Fireworks. Every night. Can’t see em because of all the apartment buildings. Apparently it’s a tradition to set off fireworks when someone dies. It’s depressing that someone within my hearing radius dies every day.  This sound really freaked me out until I asked what it was.

Touching

A Chinese friend of mine, Sophia, took me for a traditional Chinese massage yesterday. As I go through this I want you to keep in mind that I spent $11 USD. Before the massage could even start I had to take a tea bath, and let me tell you: a traditional Chinese tea bath is even more complicated than a traditional Chinese tea ceremony. I had to bathe, then get out, then wait for them to change the water, then get back  in THREE TIMES! While I was in the tub I would scrub my front with a giant teabag, while the masseuse scrubbed my back. Fortunately I read enough South American novels this summer to be moderately okay with being bathed.  Each time I got out of the tub I would have to put my slippers on to walk 1ft to the bed. Then I would lie down and the masseuse would dab the sweat and tea off my face with tissue, and feed me sips of tea, never allowing me to hold the cup myself. During the second and third baths the masseuse fed me sips of a different sweet red liquid. After the last bath I  could feel my pulse throughout my whole body. It was like the feeling you get when you know you’re going to get into deep trouble, or after just having run the mandatory school mile. I wanted to jump out of my skin I had so much energy. It turns out that the red drink was a natural Chinese energy drink. Between that and the tea I’d been soaking in I was hardly ready for a relaxing massage. I was in the mood to dance the night away.

Once in the massage room, the masseuse calmed my pulse by rubbing essential oils on my face.  Then she proceeded to comb my scalp with a wooden comb. It was slightly less than pleasant. The whole first half of the massage was focused on my scalp and face. The focus of the entire second half was on my back. Apparently it’s only supposed to hurt if you’ve messed up your muscles. I most definitely had. They also noticed the different heights of my shoulders, which I tried to explain to them was scoliosis. The massage concluded with masseuse rolling a hot grooved rolling pin-thingy up and down my back.  Oh and more tea.

After the massage, Sophia explained to me that my back might turn red in the next few days. If it did, that would be the toxins leaving my body. Today I am sore as hell, but not muscle sore, burn sore. My back is covered in red splotches…attractive.

No Buy, No Go Home

If I had to compare Changde to a city in the US…I would probably say Hartford, Connecticut.  It’s not even the main city in the Hunan Province. The main city is called Changsha. It’s about a two and a half hour drive away. I would compare Changsha to Cleveland, Ohio.

Last weekend my host family went to stay in their house in Changsha, and took me with them. Going on a road trip is a big step to take with a homestay family. You reaaaally get to know their weak spots, their pressure buttons. For my particular family it was parallel parking. My homestay father would get out of the car, and scream at his wife. My homestay sister would also get out of the car, and whine/scream at her father. My homestay mother would be silent at the wheel, proving all sorts of Asian stereotypes. The process could take up to fifteen minutes. Now I understand what it must have been like for Au Pairs who took vacations with my family. Sometimes you have to take a page from The Princess Bride and take your mind away.

The purpose of the trip was shopping. I bought a blouse they said made me look, “very white.” This is the highest of compliments in China. Betty’s (my homestay sister) only-child-syndrome came out in a major way. There was a pair of shorts her mother really didn’t like, and when Betty was in the changing room she exhaustedly turned to me and said, “I don’t like. But Betty fourteen. No buy, no go home.” That’s the biggest problem with the One Child policy (besides the rights violation): it creates a country full of only children.

Even more than the shopping, my family was excited about the restaurants. The first night they were thrilled to take me to a “Western” restaurant. There I watched people eating spaghetti with chopsticks and ice cream out of bread bowls. And the funniest thing happened. (I should preface this with saying that I eat A TON of street food.) For the first time since I’ve been in China, the food didn’t quite agree with me.  

The next day my family took me to an all you can eat buffet. Direct quote from Betty: It’s very expensive, so we have to eat a lot. And let me tell you, they took all you can eat as a personal challenge. Okay I stole that phrasing from Malcolm in the Middle. But they did! I did my famous/infamous disappearing act with steamed shrimp dumplings. I watched my homestay father eat six pieces of pizza, four pieces of lamb, and least eight salmon sashimis, and four bowls of Haagen-Dazs. And those are just the items I can remember!

Subliminal Empowerment

After weeks of, “Meh-Kan-Ik. Repeat! Meh-Kan-Ik. Mechanic,” I’d finally had enough today. I have one class with only two thirteen-year-old girls. They’re by far my most advanced students. One of the girls was absent, and the other is one of the happiest, giggliest, most positive people I’ve met. She pretty much lives in a Muppet musical. With her I’m allowed to teach more American culture and less vocab, so I thought the perfect theme for today would be American theatre (aka Broadway musicals.) I took some liberties; some of them were British.

It went over splendidly. The only issue was that I would get so passionate that I would start speaking rapid-fire English and she’d have to tell me to slow down. But I could tell she was amazed. She asked for the titles of the plays so that she could watch them on YouTube the next time she’s in Hong Kong. Imagine a world without YouTube! Thank God for Northwestern VPN. This was the line up:

1)   Wicked’s “Defying Gravity”

2)   Aida’s “My Strongest Suit”

3)   Les Miserables’ “One Day More”

4)   Evita’s “A New Argentina”  - I know that “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” is the more famous number, but aside from the dress I think this one’s a lot more powerful

5)   Dream Girls’ “And I Am Telling You” – Dream Girls isn’t my favorite musical, but Jennifer Holliday’s 1982 Tony Awards is my FAVORITE THING PERIOD.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtnKI3ztz9w

6)   Jesus Christ Superstar’s “Damned For All Time/Blood Money”

7)   Hair’s “The Flesh Failures/Let the Sun Shine In”

I tried to include as many strong women and African Americans as possible (oops with “My Strongest Suit.”) This is something I do in all of my classes. If I’m teaching a vocab word like “business manager” I always make sure that the picture I include is of a female business manager. I don't like to think of it as brainwashing. I would call it "subliminally empowering." 

These things look weird without a title

I live in a happy homestay bubble.  Betty, my homestay sister, doesn’t eat fish. Therefore I do not need to eat fish. My family is dedicated to helping me experience everything Changde has to offer. They take me to traditional Chinese teahouses, and force so much expensive Chinese tea down my throat that every time I get car sick I panic that I’m getting a kidney stone. My homestay father doesn’t like to carry a wallet, so my homestay mother pays for everything and has complete control at restaurants. They’re a goofy bunch. At night we watch 3D movies and eat delicious Chinese fruit and ice cream. Best of all: Betty’s parents spend way more on her education than most girl’s parents would ever dream of.  It wasn’t until my conversation with Elena at lunch today, that I fully grasped how my individual homestay family and being white has colored (haha pun) my experience.

Elena is half Mexican and half African American. Her experience has been much different than mine.

I pretend I’m going to slap my student’s hands: they giggle hysterically

Elena looks as if she might touch one of her students: they back away terrified

I am frequently dodging men on motorcycles while waiting for a cab.

Elena has not been approached by even a single motorcycle.

I created a lot of trouble for the school when I refused to switch homestay families halfway through the program.

A few of the potential homestay families said they would not be comfortable with a black student.

Elena is beautiful. “Leggy” and “fabulous” are the words I’d use. But no one notices in a country where half the beauty products include the word “whitening.”

I cried myself to sleep most nights in India because of the way women were treated, but Elena is so strong. “That’s China,” she says nonchalantly.  “I’m lucky I don’t have to deal with motorcycles.”  “If I want my students to behave, I just have to look like I’m going to touch them.” I’m incredibly impressed by the way she handles it. She doesn’t let it get to her the way I would.

We’ve decided that it’s less racism here, and more ignorance. It’s not as if they have any people of African descent in Changde. They’ve only seen them on TV where they’re portrayed as gangsters and thieves. It’s difficult to describe, but it’s less of a “black’s are inferior” thing, and more of a “be scared of blacks” thing. Of course neither is right, but the latter is slightly less offensive. It’s ignorance. I feel it could be rectified by better information.  American media could take some of the blame.

I have also run into my fair share of gender issues. Oh no! Katherine’s ranting about gender issues again!

Elena and Kayliegh teach at the less expensive school. Their classes have about twenty students. I teach at VIP, the expensive school. I have no classes with more than eight students. Elena and Kayleigh have a gender split of about fifty-fifty. I have at least five boys for every girl. In fact, I have one class with seven boys and one girl. When I spoke to one of the teachers about it, she said, “It’s Chinese gender discrimination. I have four siblings because my parents kept trying for a boy.”

No official from the school contacts Elena, Kayleigh, or me with important information. They all run straight to Ralph and expect him to convey the information to us.

I would say that about 95% of the teachers are female. In speaking with the female teachers, I’ve found out that at least 50% of them are just teaching until they can find a husband.

It’s no India, but things are far from perfect here.

After all the seriousness, I have a funny problem:

The Problem:

The teachers in their early twenties are all in love with the only boy on my trip. Let’s call him Ralph.

Why the Teachers in Their Early Twenties Don’t Like Me:

They believe Ralph and I are dating.

The Biggest Reason Ralph and I Aren’t Dating:

Ralph is gay.

Why I Don’t Like the Teachers in Their Early Twenties:

They hit on Ralph all the time! They text him! None of the teachers have any of the girl’s numbers. If they believe we are dating, then they are trying to steal him from me! Uncool. Women should stick together. I’m hypothetically jealous and angry.

Also, swear to God I’m teaching the Chinese Dudley Dursley.  He terrorizes the smaller kids while swilling from his mammoth iced tea bottle. I’m pretty sure my hopes and dreams are being swallowed with his iced tea.

But teaching can be very rewarding…sometimes. It’s nice to go to sleep at night knowing I’ve accomplished something during the day. And it’s doing wonders for my patience. 

Things I Learned In China (So Far)

Because I have no time to write proper blog entries

I teach 29 classes a week

1)   Water chestnuts do not come from cans. They come from weird purple alien pod thingies.

2)   Do not eat water chestnuts from weird purple alien pods. They taste like dirt.

3)   Do not worry about culture shock. To facilitate an easy transition the Chinese government has kindly placed a KFC, McDonalds, and Starbucks right outside of the immigration line at the Beijing International airport.

4)   Do not thank the cook for dinner. The father who pays the cook will be offended. Thank god I was only in my Beijing homestay for two nights. And the mother was very nice. She bought me coke, breakfast cereal, and Thousand Island dressing to keep me from becoming homesick.

5)   THEY EAT DONKEY HERE!!!!!

6)   Babies don’t have to wear diapers in China. Nor do they have to wear clothing that covers their genitals. If you see a baby squatting in the middle of a train: Notify its mother!

7)   Driving lanes are more of a suggestion. So are breakdown lanes, seatbelts, and driving on the right side of the road.

8)   Beijing is disgusting. Wearing glasses may help to keep the pollution out of your eyes. They say that for every month you live in a developing country you take one year off your life. I believe I lost one year in the two days I spent in Beijing.

9)   Chinese homestay is the best in the world. In other countries one must pay families to host. In China families offer to pay to host. Then they try to figure out all your favorite foods and smother you in them. My homestay sister calls me “her real live Barbie.”

10)                 Always look for programs where teenagers find the homestay families. For our program the number one qualification was: chill. At first I thought my homestay family was terribly overbearing. Then I realized that the fourteen-year-old was just needy. I take her less seriously now.

11)                 Chinese people DO know how to knock. My homestay parents knock. The program organizers knock. Other people’s homestay siblings knock. Just because my homestay sister doesn’t knock doesn’t mean that all Chinese people don’t knock. That’s stereotyping.

12)                 Just because you’re and English teacher doesn’t mean you have to speak English. In fact you can teach from books titled “Good English.” Teachers in China can pretty much get away with anything. Throw a kid out of class: Never hear about it again.  Draw on students with whiteboard markers: No one makes a peep.

13)                 As for the students: CHEATERS!!! Which is why I’m coloring on them with whiteboard markers. Write answers on your hands and I am forced to cover them up with marker. And I’m not even giving them tests. They’re cheating on games!!

14)                 If enough random strangers tell you you’re beautiful you begin to believe it. Example, “she says you’re beautiful. She wants you to tutor her daughter.”

15)                 If cab drivers tell you you’re beautiful…I dunno…maybe get out of the cab. If they spend more time staring at you than the road: That’s bad.

16)                 I no longer notice people staring. It freaks Betty (my homestay sister) out. It bothers the other Northwestern students. But when they mention it my response it usually, “they are?”

17)                 Chinese people believe that hamburgers are a typical American breakfast. When I offered to make my homestay family a traditional American breakfast (pancakes with the Bisquick and maple syrup I brought from home) they said, “hamburgers?” Long story short: they took me to the grocery store and today I’m making hamburgers. The pancakes went over very well. My grandfather made more breakfast. I have to tell myself it’s because the Chinese eat lots of different foods for every meal, not because it was a backup.

18)                 The rice containers in the grocery store are bigger than my bed. And all the meat still has its face.

19)                 And entire Beijing duck (face included) makes a great souvenir. My host father brought two home from Beijing with him. One for the family, and one they insist I bring back to the US. Any idea on whether or not I can get this through immigration? I’m pretttty sure it’s already cooked.

20)                 Fear the police. They like to make their power known. Do not ask to borrow their phones (this was not me but a friend). Their headquarters are like palaces. They will visit you in homestay to make sure that you are in fact in homestay. The woman will ask real questions. The man will ask if you can eat spicy food.

21)                 The closest thing you’re going to get to Diet Coke is Pepsi Max. And you will only be able to find it in a Walmart. And why wouldn’t you want to be in Walmart? It’s got the best air conditioning in town.