Another "Lovely" Card

I got another cute student card that I couldn't help but pass along. Although there are large chunks that I generally have no idea what he's talking about, I did grasp the meaning of some of it and he couldn't be more thoughtful and kind. Sometimes 7th graders can be so adorable.

Kelly and Ashley (receive)
Peter (delivers)
Approaches a season in this snow falling thickly Christmas day;
I wish Kelly and Ashley can treat in China very am all happy;
Because here has your lovable student; Please do not have to light a fire in the Christmas day night in the stove,
Otherwise you can see to one the old parson cames from Africa;
Please do not have too to think you far in US's family members;
Because China also is your family;
Certainly I also must thank your guidance;
Finally wishes your Christmas to be joyful!
You student: Peter (First day a grade class)
on December 25, 2008

Dear Teacher Ashley, Merry Christmas! From, Your Student

Like teachers in America, I received many kind and thoughtful cards from my students for Christmas. I believe, however, that I received a few greetings and wishes that they did not.

Merry Christmas! I like you. Because you are very lovable. Especially your beautiful blue eyes. Although I am not so lovable, but I very hope and teacher you become a good friend.
Katie, Class 7

Merry Christmas. Beat wishes to you. You classroom is so lively. Send me very happy. You teach send me more like English. Express you happy. Merry Christmas.
Cindy, Class 9

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Dear Ashley:
I’m your student. I’m from class 16, grade 7. My English is not well.
Please excuse me, thank you. I think you are a wonderful teacher, I unforgettble your wings, your smile, your speech, your attend class ways, and your blackboard writing…….
But, I want to pose some suggestions. May you have a class are not sternly. I think your increase obedient. If you think the class will very quiet, you can adopt encourage.
Ok, I know this letter are bad very much, But it’s my regard.
Welcome write back for me.
Last, wish happiness to you. Merry Chirstmas and Happy New Year.
Thank you.
Your student, Chrystal

Only to Ashley… From Maybe
We are friend. Er… Although you are older than me.
Happy X-mas.
Let’s go to the 2009! The New Year is coming!
This winter is very cold.
Please put more clothes.
Don’t ill.
by Maybe

Merry Christmas!
Day Day Up!
You could do better!

Merry Christmas!

Announcing the Discovery of "Inability-to-plan-itis" in Central China

I may have mentioned before that the Chinese are not known for their planning skills. Their trains run late. The ticket sales for the trains is a mess. They don’t have school calendars because they don’t know the schedule of school holidays and breaks until days before. They inform you of rather vital pieces of information about three seconds before it is too late. The list could go on and on, but this is nothing new. So why devote a blog post to it? Here’s why: The inability of my school’s officials to plan reached a new, surprising level today.

A few months ago the English department head told me to start planning a “performance” for Christmas time with the students in my English Corner. English Corner is a select group of students from each class who come for what is essentially an extra oral English class every week. “Come” is a term that is used loosely here as students are more than often absent from English Corner. They typically can’t come to class because they have to do things that their head teacher has deemed more important during the time that my class is scheduled. You may agree that running around the track, cleaning the school, and practicing writing are all far more important than an extra English class held by the most unimportant teacher at the school.

At any rate, I was instructed to produce four “performances” with each of my two English Corners. When I asked what type of “performances” they were looking for, my liaison replied, “Maybe the students can sing, dance, do a skit, or whatever you want. It’s up to you.” Using these loose instructions, I came up with a program for each class. My Tuesday class would sing two Christmas songs, recite a traditional Christmas poem, and present a Christmas themed acrostic and the Thursday class would do a variation on the same.

For the last two months the few students who attend class and I have been working hard to get our acts ready. We’ve drawn, colored, practiced our lines, and learned our lyrics. It was quite a challenge to get the students ready when I couldn’t really be sure who would be on hand from week to week or if a specific student would ever be present again. There were times that I felt like I was being given an impossible task, but I am really pleased with the show that my students and I are ready to put on.

Late Thursday afternoon I found out from my liaison that a rehearsal for the performance was scheduled for the next day and that the students and their parents had been informed that the show would be on the following Monday. When pressed for details, she said that our little shindig would begin at 7:00 pm in the music room. I was give four whole days notice! I should have known it was too good to be true.

Today, I arrived at school ready for the performance in the evening. During my second class of the day a student asked me if we would be practicing the Twelve Days of Christmas at English Corner on Tuesday. I said that we wouldn’t because the performance would be over. “No,” she said, “the performance will not be over. It is not today.” A little confused, I went back to my office after class to find out what was going on. My sitemate, Kelly, informed me that the performances had indeed been postponed. Apparently our liaison told her that there were no free rooms to hold our mini-Christmas pageant. Who in the world schedules a variety show that students and teachers have been working on for months without checking if there are any open rooms, you ask? Chinese middle school officials, that’s who.

When I told my friend, Caroline, the story of the ill planned pageant she knew all too well where I’m coming from. She said, “I think Chinese middle school administrators are allergic to planning ahead… This is what I think our school says sometime, ‘The foreigners want to know what's going on, but we refuse to make firm plans for anything, so let’s just tell them something and change it at the last minute’.” I think she’s right. They have no idea what's going on themselves, so they just make up details to keep us quiet.

I've decided to named this allergy "Inability-to-plan-itis" and plan on setting up a support group nearly next year called Inability-to-plan-itis Anonymous (or ITPA). I'll have to plan everything myself: left to their own devices nothing would ever be scheduled.

The latest news is that the performance will be held, “later this week or next week.” I’m not going to hold my breath.

To breathe or not to breathe? Why is it even a question?

Before coming to China in August, I read many articles like this one on the China’s air quality problem. Leading up to the Beijing Olympics, and even before, it became common knowledge in America that the Chinese were struggling to properly balance economic development and environmental protection, particularlly when it comes to the air. I knew that a "good" air quality day in Beijing is far worse than the worst day in the US and I knew that Zhuzhou was listed as one of the 20 most polluted cities in the world in 2007. I wondered what all these facts actually meant to every day life in China. Would I even notice that the air quality was poorer than what I’m used to?

Apparently I had no idea what poor air quality actually meant. Had I had any semblance of a clue, I wouldn’t have wondered.

During summers past, I remember the local TV station advising it’s viewers on the quality of the air and reminding people with asthma and other respiration problems to stay indoors on bad days. As someone who was not afflicted with lung problems, I never really noticed the difference between a “good” and a “bad” day. Everyday seemed just about the same to me. Times have really changed. Here in China, it doesn’t take an asthma suffer to know whether the neighborhood smelting factories are polluting the air more or less on any given day.

A few months ago I walked to a near-by open market to buy some locally grown fruits and vegetables. On the walk home I noticed that I was panting like I had just run a marathon. True, I was carrying pounds of produce while walking up the street in 90 degree weather and I’m not what you would call “in shape,” but that was just not typical for me. There was a point along the way that I wondered if I was going to make. I began to contemplate abandoning my oranges and cauliflower alongside the road. Ok, it wasn’t that bad, but it sure wasn’t normal. The junk in the air really got the best of me that day.

Carrying produce up the street isn’t a problem any more, as I’ve discovered a bus that covers the exact route from my apartment to the market, but I’m still able to differentiate between a good and bad air quality. Just opening my eyes and looking at the sky is enough to let me know if breathing will be a chore on any given day. On good days, the chemicals and particles in the air go unseen, but on bad days, smog surrounds the city like a blanket over the sky. The sun and any trace of stars are blocked out by the menacing clouds of gunk. It doesn’t take an expert or any fancy tests to know the difference and I don’t think Chinese citizens with lung problems need local news reports to tell them if it’s going to be a difficult day to respire. Though I wish, more for their sake than mine, that they did.

***

(I took the pictured photos on two separate days in order to illustrate the vast difference between a good and a not-so-good day. The tower is barely visible on a true bad day and doesn't even appear in the photo, so showing you would be pointless. You’ll just have to trust me that the pictured "bad" day is more than just an early morning fog.)

Dear Santa

Last week my students all watched a 1930’s Christmas cartoon by Disney called The Night Before Christmas. Disney’s Silly Symphony cartoons from the early to mid twentieth century are prefect for my classes for several reasons. Firstly, they’re all pretty short, only 6-8 minutes, so we can watch them and still have time to do an activity. And secondly, they have little to no talking. As music and pictures are truly international languages, the students understand the videos regardless of their English level, which is always important in the multi-leveled, Chinese classroom.

In the movie the little girl writes a letter to “Santy” asking for a few things, like a doll and a rocking horse. After watching and talking about the cartoon, the students in my classes wrote letters to Santa as well. I had a template letter made up and students filled in things like if they were good or bad this year and what they would like Santa to bring them. While I wasn’t able to read them all, the following is by far the most interesting letter I saw.

Dear Santa,
How are you? I am fine. This year I have been very good. I listened to my father and helped my grandmother clean the toilet when it was very dirty. I would like a lovely puppy for Christmas.
Thank you and Merry Christmas!
From,
Melody

The more I think about it, the more I think Melody must be incredibly intelligent. Not only would her letter certainly catch Santa’s eye, but also would put her securely on the good list. Nobody likes to clean the toilet when it is relatively clean, not to mention when it is “very dirty.” If I was Santa, I would definitely give a dirty-toilet-cleaning-child a “lovely puppy” if she wanted one. Good thinking, Melody!

This message comes to you from the future!

Well, according to Facebook it does.

Friends Don't Let Friends Stare and Walk

A few days ago, my dear friend, Bridget, and I were walking down the street when a woman started to stare at us. As this is nothing new, (read previous post) we thought nothing of it and would probably not remember it today. Except that unfortunately for the woman, she didn’t stop to gawk at us; she kept walking, right into a large box. She toppled headfirst into the empty box and had to be helped out by a friend. Everyone around started to laugh at her while they continued to watch Bridget and I walk away. Apparently we’re more exciting than a woman in a box.

Let that be a lesson to you. Stop walking when you begin to ogle at the next Caucasian you see. Staring and walking don't mix.

I am Mickey Mouse

Imagine you are walking down the street of your hometown and you see Mickey Mouse coming toward you. As you watch, Mickey stops at a street vendor to buy an afterschool snack. He’s just doing everyday, normal things. You don’t worry about staring at the mouse, because it’s not rude, right? He’s the one wearing a huge Mickey Mouse costume and you don’t see that every day, so you might as well get a good look while you can. If you’re with a small child you more than likely point out the large mouse to them. You’ll probably encourage your child to say hello and they’ll have one of two reactions. The child will either become rather frightened or stare with large, excited eyes at Mickey. You might ask to if your child, or you for that matter, could get a quick picture with the superstar. Or maybe you just try to snap a quick picture without asking. You can only hope that your child will remember the day they saw Mickey walking down the street. When you go home that night you might tell your family and friends about how you saw Mickey around town and show them the picture the two of you took together. How exciting!

When in China, I am Mickey Mouse. My Caucasian skin and bone structure serve as my costume. Even my huge feet parallel Mickey’s oversized feet.

From the moment I step out my door in the morning until the second I return home in the evening I am stared at. It’s not that I’m conceded; it’s just a fact of life for a foreigner living in central China. It would happen to you as well if you were here. And sitting at your computer in your American home with insulation and indoor heating, you may think you know how this feels, but unless you are a celebrity, this is almost impossible to imagine. Every single movement you make is scrutinized by the on-looking public. You can’t feel lost, confused, or upset without many other people knowing and commenting to their friends about you. To compound the matter, staring isn’t considered rude in Chinese culture. Thus Chinese people stare unabashedly, the way many Americans would if they saw Mickey Mouse shopping at the local grocery store.

I don’t mention this phenomenon to complain or fuss about it, but rather because I just thought of the Mickey Mouse analogy this morning and I think works quite well. I admit that at first it was bothersome having my every move watched, but I’m over it now. I don’t particularly like everyone watching me all the time, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I might as well not let it trouble me. For the sake of Mickey’s feeling, however, you might consider not staring if you see him at the mall. I know how he feels and he would probably appreciate the short break from stardom.

Morning "Exercises"

I realized quite recently that I hadn’t done any posts on the differences between school life in the US and China. As I spend a significant amount of time each week in a Chinese school, I’m able to note some of these differences daily. This will just be the first in a series of posts centered on the topic of Chinese school life.

Although I’ve only taught at one school, I’m confident that the millions of students all across China, no matter what school they attend, agree on at least on thing; they hate their morning exercises. Every Chinese student is required to gather outside with their class, regardless of the weather, to “exercise” along with the entire school everyday. Once all 3,000 students are out on the “playground” and lined up properly, the students perform a choreographed routine to music that looks more like a dance than exercise. The students learn the routine as Junior 1s and use it everyday for the next three years. Personally, I love to watch the students do their exercises. It’s not because I like to watch them being tortured, but because I find it fascinating to watch them all move in sync. Take a look for yourself.

When I first arrived in China, I asked myself why the Chinese decided to use 20 minutes of their school day to gather all the students together and make them dance. Although it’s not this way at Jing Yan, some schools have the students doing the exercises three times a day; early-morning, late-morning, and evening. That means that many students spend an hour per day “exercising” with their classmates. Throughout the course of a week, the students are losing five hours of class time for this seemingly pointless activity. The exercises don't replace gym class as a time for physical activity at school. Each class also has a P.E. class several times a week. Additionally, the student have been running around the track as a class for the first 15 minutes of the last period of the day lately.

As you saw in the video, the routine isn’t much exercise to start with and most students do it half-heartedly, which takes away almost all the exercise it provided in the first place. So then why spend all the time and energy making the students dance together? I think the title of a song some of my friends sang with their colleagues at the Teacher’s Day celebration at their school some months ago sums it up quite nicely: Unity Is Power. One way to teach the students unity at a young age is to get them to do something together as a school every single day. Apparently someone, somewhere, sometime in the past decided that mass-scale exercising would serve such a purpose quite well. And so the students continue to do it today.

Hand Turkeys in China

Like many elementary school students in the US, the students in my classes made hand turkeys during the week leading up to Thanksgiving. For those of you who forget or who were never introduced to the joys of a hand turkey, they are paper turkeys made by tracing one’s hand and then adding legs to the bottom of the palm and a face to the thumb. Unlike the American kindergarteners, however, the hand turkeys in my class served a dual purpose. Not only were they a simple way to celebrate the holiday, but they also allowed the students to reflect on things they were thankful for. In each finger, the students were supposed to write one thing for which they are thankful. Of course, the children were thankful for some of the same things that American students might list as things they are thankful for. Family, friends, and school made the cut in most classes. There were, however, a few additions to the Chinese students’ lists that may surprise some of my readers in the West. I’ve been in China long enough to know to expect such answers. The complete list from Class 9 is posted below.

One specific student in class 9 showed particular devotion to her country when making her hand turkey. Nile couldn’t be restricted to just the four fingers when listing what she’s thankful for, so she decided to use her palm for two additional items.

Clearly, Chinese students love their "motherland," a term they often use to describe China. I think you would be hard pressed to find an American student who would list "the USA," "the Libertarian Party," "Atlanta Olympics," and "my homeland!!" when making a hand turkey in a foreign language class. Maybe that's just me.