Living A Piece of History

High from my wild success with my Business English class I headed outside. There was a momentous event transpiring. I wanted to witness it.

My friends, I am sad to report that I no longer teach at Wuhan Polytechnic University.

This latter-day career of mine that started so dubiously, on a shabby campus that made me wonder if I had made the biggest mistake of my life when I first got here, has taken off like a rocket. From having no idea how to even get to my first classroom (see The First Day of Class, posted September 2010) to my rousing triumph with my most reluctant group of students (see previous post), from the squalid Concrete Bunker I called home to this actual home that feels like mine… I owe everything to Wuhan Polytechnic University, who saw fit to give a middle aged woman with no teaching experience a chance.

Except…

Wuhan Polytechnic University is no more.

Today we witnessed the unveiling ceremony of our school’s new name: Wuchang Institute of Technology.

The owner of our school, now an elected city official (see Election Day, posted October 2011) has been pouring money into our campus. Not only were the buildings all repainted last summer during the break but new multimedia cabinets and other teaching equipment has found its way into the classrooms. Unfortunately the rooms I teach in are still devoid of such luxury. Never mind, I’m learning how to do without them. Gleefully and excitedly, at that.

Moving on…  

The school has bought up substantial parcels of land surrounding campus. That is where the new apartment complex other teachers and I reside in, the new gym and library have been built, the new administration building will stand and the new basketball and badminton courts are. All of these changes reflect the progressive march of our school to becoming a competitive center for higher learning.

No longer just a Tier 3 straggler are we! Our new name embodies our ambition to attract some of the finest minds in academia and some of the best students from around the country. The name, WIT… wait… isn’t there a similarity to an equally impressive school, somewhere in America?

Oh, yeah! MIT! Massachusetts Institute of Technology! In fact, if you just invert that ‘W’… which is actually appropriate, seeing as we are on the other side of the world. Yes, it is all a play on words and a ploy for renown.

For as comical as I’m making this sound, this was a truly momentous day, not just for the school but for me. I realized a fierce pride and loyalty to this establishment that has been so generous to me, among other things granting me free rein to teach as I saw fit and according me such gracious living quarters.

The rain that had pelted down on my way to class this morning stopped just in time for the unveiling ceremony. Quickly, maintenance rolled out the red carpet. The cadre of students designated to attend this momentous occasion were all decked out: some in sports gear, others in traditional Chinese costumes for reception of dignitaries.

They started arriving around 9:30. The Street, lined with red flags and flower girls saw a parade of black cars, shiny in spite of the recent downpour, from which disgorged a host of VIP. After a small fanfare, the speeches started. Soon, in spite of my best efforts I couldn’t see or hear a thing for the thronging masses chattering excitedly.

I went back to Building 1, where my next class was. From the balcony on the second floor I heard the pop of the fireworks and the music blaring. I watched as the crowd dispersed. Some, in business suits, strode purposefully back to the Administration building, just across the small park I used to look out at while living in the Concrete Bunker. Others, mostly kids, were strolling leisurely, some arm in arm and recounting their experiences being on the front line and watching the veil fall to reveal the school’s new name. A few looked up, saw me and waved. Smiling and barely containing my tears, I waved back.    

I can’t describe the emotional soup I was trying to puzzle through. Not even when the bell rang and my next group of students awaited my wisdom could I put my thoughts together. I had no idea what I was going to tell them. My heart was so full.

These kids that I’ve known and taught for 2 years, my favorite class, looked at me expectantly. Tomorrow they will take their career-determining test, the TM4. They are all nervous and scared, and more than a little stressed. On the board I had written “Midterm: Give a 2 minute speech on ‘The Thing You Are Most Proud Of’.

I opened my mouth and let the words tumble out.

“Today, the feeling is indescribable. My students, my friends, you are living a chapter of history. You are no longer students of Wuhan Polytechnic University. Today you have the honor and privilege of being students of Wuchang Institute of Technology. Think about it: Years from now, you might want to show your children your college degree… what will it say? You might go to the internet to tell them of your old school. You will not be able to search for our school under the name we’ve known it by all this time. You’ll have to remember it in your hearts. And that is important, for under that old name is how we all met, isn’t it?

My friends, I can’t tell you what it means for me to share this moment in time with you. We started at this university at the same time, and we’ve witnessed such a great event together. We have a saying in America: ‘My heart took a picture’. I look at you now and… my heart is taking a picture.”

I heaved a sigh at having instilled an appropriately decorous mood. I could see on their faces that, only then did they realize how momentous this occasion was. The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. No one even touched their cellphone. The silence washed over us, bonding.

Time to change the subject. These are serious students, and they have a portentous exam to take the next day. I felt I had to address that topic. Implying their ordeal, I asked them: “Are you scared?”

Out of the quiet and before a chorus of ‘No!’ chimed one small: “Yes!”

Dear little Jennifer. I asked her what she was afraid of. She answered: “Your love. It is so large!”

That’s it! The dam burst: I’m in tears and laughing at the same time. Such a precious child! I gave her a hug, and went on to tell the kids that I thought it was not fair for them to have to struggle for mid-terms when they had a much larger, more impactful exam the next day. I strode to the board and crossed out what I had written. A shout of joy arose.

I then told the kids mid-terms would be postponed till next week. They could use this entire lesson period as a study period. I would be available to answer any questions they had or help them with anything they might have difficulty with. Gratefully they sank into their books. For the next forty five minutes the room was filled with the dull roar students reading passages, pages frantically flipping and hurried consultations. A few of them raised their hand for help. I was happy to assist them.

Before our class period was over I gave them some test taking tips. Relax. Get some sleep. Be prepared. Eat a good meal. Take time to understand what you are reading. Most importantly: Be confident. Believe in yourself. Trust yourself to do a good job. Then I sent them on their way. Those that wanted a hug got one. The guys, Evan and Jason got ‘high-five’ed and clapped on the back. I would have hugged them too, but they are too ‘boy’ for that. The last one to leave, little Jenny kissed my cheek.

I stood in the empty classroom, finally feeling like a teacher.