How It Played Out

How am I supposed to do that? I have my hand-picked 4 and they’re proving themselves to be as good as I thought they would be, but Bruce and Daisy are showing themselves well. Jack is no great shakes but Dorwyn is a powerhouse. Worse: I’ve bonded with these kids. I can see the hope in their eyes. I know how hard they’ve worked. Every one of them, with the possible exception of Jack deserves a shot!

THURSDAY, 2PM

Sam has left after agreeing we need to add Speech and Debate to our curriculum as an elective, and promising to help me talk with Dean Lisa about it. The kids roll in. Sam had already sent them the same message he sent me about having to cut the team, but they asked me for confirmation. I decided we would stage a debate and evaluate each competitor’s performance. From that we would pare our team down to the required number.   

4PM

The topic was: “Should schools provide enrichment programs”. Each contestant debated their assigned position. Brianna was the hands-down winner: she came in at exactly 7 minutes, as required by the World University Debate Challenge format. She had a great intro, brought up 10 points of information and backed each one up. Celine fell way short of the 7 minute mark and was not as well prepared, bringing up only 7 points of information. I was surprised by her showing. Last practice we had she blew us all away.

Dorwyn took tops at enthusiasm and clarity. Daisy had the best body language. Elliott is just a clown; cannot fail to amuse, all while being succinct. Bruce, arguing from the athletic platform took points for his views. Stark positing pure rationale, per his personality. Even Jack bounded up eagerly and, for the first 2 minutes, spoke effectively. All in all, besides Brianna, everyone fell short of the mark.

Again: how am I supposed to make this decision?

The critique round did not help. I asked each team mate who they thought the best candidate was. Of course, each candidate wanted to go. Elliott unselfishly stated his partner, Stark, did a better job. Celine gave props to Brianna. Brianna voted for Dorwyn. I was back to square one, trying to decide which of these passionate, desirous, hard working kids would represent our school.

I sat there, nonplussed, phone in my hand. I had asked Sam if someone else would come today to evaluate the kids’ performance and make their recommendation. I feared I could not be objective, having found in each one a quality that would enhance our standings. Besides, my heart was in the matter and I found it hard to separate heart from mind to make a rational decision.

Nope, all on me. This is a very busy time at our school, with Canadians visiting and exams pending. No one else was available. I wanted to send Sam a message begging for help but did not know what the write.  

In the end, I made the most rational decision I could: send the sophomore team. This might be their last chance to compete. The freshmen still had another year that they would be eligible for such opportunities. And then, Celine blew us all away.

She said she was not proud of her performance. She ran short, time-wise, and did not prepare her arguments well. She kept getting lost in her notes. In her opinion, Dorwyn deserved to go. And than she burst into tears, burying her face in Elliott’s shoulder.

I have seldom been faced with such gallantry. While I agree with her that her performance today was not stellar, there are greater issues involved. She and Brianna have worked together, and have known each other for 2 years. Would Bri and Dorwyn have that same dynamic? And then, if Dorwyn gets to go, why not Daisy, or Bruce? They were also good. Besides, I know what Celine is capable of. We all do. Bri and I traded places and I cradled the weeping girl.

I have no idea what stuff Dorwyn is made of but if it ever gets bottled, nobility will be an easily achieved commodity. She turned down Celine’s offer. In my arms, stillness. Celine had stopped crying and, while she still had her face buried she was listening.

Celine really wanted to go. She relished the challenge. She couldn’t wait for competition. But she felt that Dorwyn would be a better contender: less resistant to stress, more enthusiastic and more able to succeed.

And Dorwyn! She was overcome by Celine’s concession and barely containing her joy! How she managed to decline this chance handed to her was a mystery. I didn’t catch all of her reasoning because I told them they could discuss it in Chinese, but I caught enough to know that, whether she competes or not, Dorwyn is a winner. 

As a coach, this was my moment to shine. After making sure Celine had all the cuddling and comforting she needed, I told my team that winning is not our primary objective. Learning is. While we did learn quite a bit these last 2 weeks, and those who will debate this weekend will learn even more, the most important lesson we needed to learn was today. Celine and Dorwyn’s selflessness is a lesson for us all.

After a quiet moment of reflection, Elliott chimes in: “I’m sad. We’ve all become friends and now it is over. We’re all going to chase our pursuits and lose touch with one another.” The others nodded, morose. Imagine my joy at inviting them over for a celebration dinner next week: how their faces lit up!!!

Smiles and relieved chatter all around. Phone numbers exchanged, promises of staying in contact. Light hearted ribbing. Dorwyn asking Brianna for pointers. Daisy showed everyone the picture of she and I in our night class, last year. Of course, I took a lovely picture of our group.

Bruce announced he had to go coach his basketball team. That broke up the meeting. Everyone pitched in to help clean up despite my exhortations to leave things be. And then, they all clatter out the door.

With a team like that, coaching is really just a formality.  

The Debate Team

From the moment I was tapped to coach the debate team I knew exactly who I wanted: Brianna, Celine, Elliott and Stark.

Our school has the nasty habit of blindsiding students into bringing glory and renown to our alma mater. In part our administrators are blameless, at least this time. The notice did not come until 3 weeks before competition. On the other hand, other institutes have Speech and Debate built into their curriculum, so they have students ready whenever competition comes up. We do not offer that elective.

To my knowledge, this is the fifth time University of Puget Sound has challenged Chinese universities to a Worlds debate, but the first time we were invited to compete. If this were regarding the yearly speech competition, my feathers would be ruffled. Every year I’ve been here we’ve selected a participant or two, based solely on teachers’ perception of that student’s ability to speak English. With virtually no coaching and very little preparation time, these orators were expected to sweep the competition. How could they, with the little we gave them?

For the past couple of speech contests I have been called on to help groom the kids. Tony and Evan did not exactly blow the competition away but did decently, for first time entrants with minimal training. Apparently, my little bit of coaching did help. Both came away with honorable mentions, whereas in the years before, our school never even received citation. They were still heartbroken at not having done better, flagellating themselves in spite of everyone’s sincere praise at the efforts.

And so it came, when we received invitation to participate in this debate debacle, I was immediately appointed as team leader. First, I had to be a team former. We had no team. That is where Bri, Celine, Elliott and Stark come in. when I asked if they would represent our school at the meet their answer was a definitive, resounding ‘YES’.

You might remember Celine from my visit to Wu Dang Shan (see ‘Start of Wu Dang Shan’ entry, posted September 2013). Stark is a quiet boy, a ‘behind the scenes’ type of guy: resourceful, determined, and above all else, inquisitive. He likes to present topics for our class discussions, and is the one who introduced me to a movie download website I now use regularly. Elliott is an affable young man who speaks English with a flawless British accent. I have no idea where he got it from. Brianna is a Minnie Mouse of a girl, a genuine sweetheart I liken to a volcano. She is so meek and demure on the outside with a fiery stab of intelligence and an incomparable joie de vivre. She would understand that last bit: she decided to teach herself French last year and is now good enough to hold conversation in that tongue. She is the one that gifted me Dog and Cat, my short-lived turtle pets.

I had the privilege of teaching them last year, and now have them in class this year. This year, my Friday mornings are always joyful. Not just because of those 4; the whole class is a pleasure, and they’re mine to enjoy until June. Hopefully the time won’t fly by so fast.

Unfortunately, these 2 weeks have flown by. Coaching is coaching… not that I know that much about it. The contestants will learn debating minutia mostly in the training session sponsored by the host university, the day before competition. My special challenge in coaching these Chinese students into a typically western activity, such as debating or speech giving is body language and speaking tone.

Usually the Chinese outward expression remains stoic, letting words carry all the weight of the message. I contend that, in order to deliver a persuasive argument, tone, voice modulation and body movement all play a vital role. Another crucial factor is that each student must know him/herself well enough to effectively use those non-verbal communication tools. For these past 2 weeks we have drilled on how to walk, talk and move to match each personality. That means I have to know them well, so that I can point out personality details they might not be aware of.

All teachers with English classes were asked to recruit potential candidates. One week into our 2 week preparation window, our team doubles. Instead of training 4 kids, there are now 8. The new additions are all freshmen, and show a lot of potential. Daisy and Bruce look like they are boyfriend and girlfriend, deeply in love. We were all surprised that they had only just met on the way to my house. They make a great team… for the debate. Perhaps also as life partners. Wouldn’t it be crazy if that is how things turn out?

Dorwyn and Jack were the last additions, only having the benefit of 2 training sessions. Nonetheless, Dorwyn impressed all of us. She radiates joy and you can hear her smile in her voice. She is not an English major but speaks better English than some of my students. Her enthusiasm is boundless. I felt terrible that her partner, Jack wouldn’t say a word. He volunteered to compete, hoping it would break him out of his shyness, but with only one week till competition and him not having said very much, I worried that our effusive Dorwyn would suffer from his seeming inability.

I believe the most important duty a coach has is to foster a sense of team spirit. With this team, that was not a problem at all. No one held themselves rigidly onto their assigned partner and everyone supported everyone, even Jack – although everyone worried about his ability to carry his share. Of course I had drinks and a few snacks for them; practice lasted 3 hours each day. They would pour each other drinks, make sure everyone had something to nibble on and, if one liked a particular snack, the others made sure he/she got the lion’s share. In short, they bonded. I fell in love with them.

WEDNESDAY, 2 DAYS BEFORE COMPETITION

The whole crew is at the house. Stark informs me his grandmother just died 2 days before, but he was OK to compete. He would only need to leave training early that day. Elliott expresses concern for the next day’s session; he might not be able to come. Dorwyn blew us all away. Bruce discovered ginger ale (bought at Metro). He shared the can with Daisy. Bri is nervous and Celine does her best to cheer her on. Today’s exercise is to find one word to describe yourself and build your speech introduction around that word. Jack still won’t talk. That days’ training ended in a Q&A session.

THURSDAY, 10AM, COMPETITION EVE

I receive a message that, contrary to the invitation, each school could only send 2 teams. Originally the summons allowed as many teams as each school wants to send. After our mad scramble to draft our 4 latecomers, and them working so hard, all for the promise of at least a certificate of participation and a measure of honor, we had to cut our team in half. No, scratch that: I had to cut our team in half.

What’s New?

Its taken me a while to pound this one out. Usually I write the ‘what’s new?’ entry about a week after my return from the states. That gives me time to ride a few buses, check out the town, roam the aisles of Metro to see what they’ve got in stock these days…

This time it was almost literally ‘get off the plane and get in the classroom’. I got off the plane on Sunday and was teaching at 8AM on Monday. No grace period, no buffer, no time to unpack or get over jet lag. That was a great class.

No it wasn’t! It was the class that demanded I throw them a party! (See My Pet Foreigner entry, posted July 2013). However, refreshingly, they are on time, attentive, courteous and bent to the task. It is because they’re scared. Their career defining exam, TM4 is coming up. If they don’t pass, they’re doomed to a life of menial labor.

My schedule is very easy: 1 class on Monday and 2 on Friday. The rest of my week is mine. Or, was mine until our school was invited to a debate competition, to be held the weekend of March 14. Now my life consists of teaching a piddling 3 classes and coaching the formerly non-existent debate team.

I get frustrated when I think of these competitions. Other schools have speech/debate classes year-round. Those students are groomed for competition, are taught everything from proper attire to effective body language. Their English skills are stellar. Our school knee-jerks: “Oh, there’s a competition! Let’s send these students, they’re pretty good!” with no idea how much pressure this puts on the kids, who really want to succeed. How can they, when we don’t give them the tools?

I do my best to coach them in the short time – 2 weeks – that we have. My opening speech to them is that they should not approach this event with the anticipation of winning. They should go for the experience, and to have a nice entry on their resume. I’m not saying that our kids are idiots, second rate or incapable, but I’ve seen Evan and Tony, crushed for having worked so hard only to come in dead last because they only have 2 weeks of preparation while other contestants actually study the subject all year.

Just got word that another team will join the training this Sunday… 5 days before competition!!! Wish them luck. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

What else is new?

Erica is stuttering. How did this child develop a stutter in the 5 weeks I was gone? Apparently she has a new teacher who is rather rigid, and sometimes downright harsh. She claims Erica does not conform and seldom obeys class rules. I believe her stutter is a result of anxiety.

My little buddy is also using chopsticks to feed herself. Before I left she ate with a spoon, or someone would feed her. Sometimes she used her hands to feed herself. I asked Sam and Penny who started her on the chopsticks. They told me she just picked them up one day and started eating. Go, Erica!

Metro keeps adding to their list of foreign goodies. I almost fell over with excitement when I saw honey barbeque flavored twists. When I got to the register with my treasure – 1 bag, the cashier declared they were not in the system and put them in the basket with unwanted item, to be returned to the shelf. Whadda’ ya mean, ‘unwanted’??? I wanted them very badly!

I’m beginning to think they were a mirage. I’ve been to both Metro stores since that day. Neither of them carry that treat.

Here’s another novelty: I’m finding it easier to navigate the city via subway, at least from a time perspective. Before my Chinese was actually good enough that I could read and remember station names, I relied on visual clues to know when to get off the bus. I no longer need those clues. Not only do I remember the names of the stops but I have the city, or at least my favorite haunts gridded out in my head. I can plan routes that involve minimal traffic jams. Usually I cannot get a seat on the subway, but with no traffic, I don’t mind standing for the few minutes it takes to get where I’m going. 

Traffic is still a problem. Nothing new there, unless you want to count the rapidly growing driving culture. More than ever, people want their own car. That doesn’t explain why the subway is so crowded.

Here is something that is new: my toilet seat. When I first came back, Wuhan’s temperatures were still very low. The mercury in my apartment hovered around 43 degrees Fahrenheit. Nevertheless a body must be clean so, taking advantage of my heat lamps, installed just last year, I merrily stepped under the spray, making the best use of my 54 liters of hot water. As usual, after showering, I propped my foot on the closed toilet lid… gotta dry between the toes, right? One loud CRACK!!! And the toilet lid shattered, plunging my foot into the bowl’s icy water.

Fortunately I had cleaned my toilet the day before. Even better: I had enough hot water left to re-wash. Best of all, I was able to buy a new toilet seat at… WALMART!!!    

The last and probably biggest news is that the search is on in earnest for a replacement for Victor. Until now the school had contracted with a headhunter. That is how I was hired. Apparently, deep faith in my contacts stateside has swayed the school to allow me a personal search for our new teacher. All hubris aside, that makes sense. The new teacher will be my colleague, and also will most likely fall under my wing. I will have the pleasure of indoctrinating our new teacher, not just around campus but also around town. Furthermore, there is a good chance that our new teacher will take up residence next door. Whereas Victor only used his digs as a crash pad between classes, I might actually have a next door neighbor! I’m very excited.

That is what is new this time, arriving back to my home after my too short stay with my loved ones. Bittersweet. But I gotta admit that being so far away for so long makes those reunions that much sweeter.

I just tell myself that so I don’t hurt so bad, being far away. 

Hoodies, Gangs and Knives

It all started during Fashion Week. Not the official one held in fashion capitals such as Paris and Milan, but the one I conducted during class last week, which roughly coincided with the official Fashion Week.

Every semester I ask my students what they would like to talk about. Being young, and for the most part female, the topic of fashion ranks high on their list of favorite subjects to discuss. Until this semester I offered up fashion tidbits at the start of class, something to the effect of: ‘wearing high heels over a long period of time can damage your bones, spine, tendons and muscles’, and a ‘clean face is a beautiful face’. Because this is a topic of ongoing fascination I decided to compile what I could about the various aspects of fashion and style into a presentation, leaving plenty of time for discussion of whatever grabs their attention.    

This semester I have the privilege of teaching only sophomores, which means I only have 3 classes and I’ve worked with each of those groups last academic year. Some I’m happy to work with and some I could have lived without ever having to address again (See My Pet Foreigner entry, posted July 2013).

What would these kids want to know about fashion? As young (mostly) women, I presumed they would like a mish-mash of information, ranging from hair and makeup to clothing and jewelry. Of course, fashion/style in the America would be a major point of interest, so I did my best to incorporate a comparison between Chinese and American fashion trends.

On the Western front I portrayed corsets as particularly barbaric because they taper a woman’s ribcage to conform to the ‘hourglass figure’ standard of beauty. Nowadays corsets are generally not worn however, beauty pageant contestants sometimes wear one. YOUNG pageant contestants: 8, 9, 10 years old. Point of interest, and something that piqued my students’ curiosity: the guitar and other string instruments are actually modeled after the ideal woman’s form.

Equally tortuous was the Chinese mania for small feet, called ‘lotus blossoms’, causing infant girls indescribable pain because their foot bones were broken and rebroken, and those poor little appendages were then wrapped in wet linen, which shrinks while drying. The smaller the foot the more dainty and desirable the woman. While my girls sneered at the west’s inhuman pursuit of beauty, they quickly stopped their chortling when confronted with their own culture’s callous practice. Some even confided their great-grandmother has bound feet and that even today she must bind her feet tightly or live with the agony of screaming bones. That is to say: they live in agony all the time; it is worse with their feet unbound. Of course, said grandmothers cannot walk without a cane… if they can walk at all.

To teach new vocabulary regarding clothing, I raided my own wardrobe. How else to demonstrate the difference between a button down shirt (men) and a blouse (women)? They loved learning that, in the old days men dressed themselves while women had a maid to dress them. Thus the buttons on women’s clothing are on the left and men’s clothing are on the right… presumably because everybody was right-handed in those days. I could even illustrate that difference with the (men’s) slacks I brought, versus the jeans I was wearing.

Modern day Chinese wear western-style clothing: jeans, sweats, tee-shirts and the like. They did not know the names of various types of clothes, nor could they make a distinction between a sweat shirt and a sweater. One poor soul, unaware that a skirt starts at the waist averred that she likes to wear skirts and nothing else. After this lesson, she knew that dresses were what she likes to wear. A fine, but critical distinction.

And then, there was the hoodie.

Often I incorporate current event items in my lessons, or make a lesson out of them altogether. While presenting the hoodie I told them that such garments are preferred by hip-hop dancers and, by proxy, gangstas. Dancers prefer them for when they do head spins and gangstas adopted them… for whatever reason. Much was made in the media of Trayvon Martin wearing a hoodie; in fact, because of that incident the humble hoodie surged in popularity. George Zimmerman believed Trayvon was a gangsta because of the hoodie, and is now news/tabloid fodder and there are still groups who seek justice for Trayvon. All of this I relayed to my class.

That got their attention! I decided this week’s lesson will segue nicely into a talk about American history: the Kennedy assassination, the Civil Rights movement, and then into the hip-hop culture and the gang scene, as much as I know about it. After that, off we go into Freedom Writers movie, the impactful story of Ellen Gruwell and her students in room 203. That’s 4 weeks of lessons, all wrapped up! I love it when I can plan my schedule like that.

I’m always anxious if I am not prepared for lessons, or even if I don’t know my material very well. You’d think it would be a simple matter of recycling curriculum from one semester to the next, but I don’t seem to want to make things easy for myself. Besides that, some lessons taught in the past are no longer relevant to the crowd I teach today. For the next few weeks, I do not need to plague myself with worry: I have 4 weeks worth of lessons ready. That is a good thing, because I’ve been tapped to coach our debate team for competition in 2 weeks! More on that later…    

Little did I know that while I was downloading pictures of rappers and dancers, and gloating over my well planned lessons, ten people from an extremist group were entering the main railway station in Kunming, armed with knives and machetes. They hacked up twenty-nine victims and injured one hundred thirty more before police put a stop to them, killing 2 in the process. This type of terrorism has as yet been unseen and is unthinkable in modern day China.

Now there are ripples of fear. Might such a group strike in Beijing? Xi’an? Wuhan? What should we be on the lookout for? How can we protect and/or defend ourselves?

Collective unrest grows as rampant, conspicuous consumerism overtakes this formerly impoverished, fatalistic people. It is not just a matter of wealth gap and capitalism but of social mores in decline. The group that targeted those passengers in that railway station was from one of China’s 55 ethnic minorities. The Uyghurs, previously limiting themselves to yearly, relatively tame riots in their own province are now striking out against the Han majority. They do not, and never did want secondary businesses or a stake in the tourist trade. They want their segment of land returned to them with full rights and privileges. They want indigenous people in government and locals to staff police and fire brigade units. They even balk at school children being taught in Putonghua – the common language, and their dialect being taught as a secondary language. To their reckoning, in their province the Han are a minority and should be accorded minority status.

Yes, discrimination is prevalent in China. Not so much against foreigners, who are decided outsiders, but between the ethnic minorities and the Han.     

Sam is getting wrinkles. Not only does his beautiful Penny work all hours and walk home alone, but she has been tapped as a part of the emergency relief crew. Because she works in a military hospital and because she specializes in infectious disease care, she might be sent to Kunming to enlarge their nurses’ roster. The poor guy is having a hard time letting her out of his sight, let alone sending her to a place of recent terrorist activity.

I have another lesson to add to my roster: self defense. I too fear for Penny, but also for all of my students. Granted they travel in pairs or groups but they are young, inexperienced and absolutely unaware of how to protect or defend themselves. Sally, a genuine sweetheart, believed those men who told her they had lost their train ticket and could not return home. Could she spare them some money? She had none on her and could not leave her current position, so she handed them her bank card and told them her pin. They assured her they’d only take 150Yuan, and would be right back. Of course, they cleaned her out and she never saw them again.

That is how unprepared these kids are for the real world. I’m not their parent, I know, or even the adult responsible for them. However, I feel I have a responsibility to them.

Life isn’t all peaches and cream. Not everyone in China comes from a small village and/or a good family, and there are certainly scammers and bruisers out there. Foreign teachers aren’t all about having fun and making students laugh. At least this one isn’t. These next few lessons just might save their life.

Now I’m anxious.     

         

Oh, Baby-Baby!

If I didn’t know any better, I would swear that my colleagues are all Math teachers, instead of English teachers. Not because they spout equations and randomly place X on grids, but because they are multiplying at an alarming rate!

Today I attended a luncheon hosted by one of our teachers who had gotten married last year and was celebrating the ‘coming out’ of her baby. The invitation was broad: anyone who could attend was welcome. And there we were, eighteen guests, all but 3 not English teachers – one attendee was the department secretary, and the babies.

I’ll get to the babies in just a sec. Please let me explain the baby ‘coming out’ practice. It is not what it sounds like, trust me. The biggest clue is that the party took place in an upscale restaurant, not in a labor/delivery room. That should convince you we didn’t actually attend the baby’s coming out – as in, the birthing.

According to Chinese custom, a baby of 3 to 6 months needs to be formally presented. Thus, the parents choose a very nice restaurant, reserve a private room or two, invite their closest friends and everybody passes the baby around and stuffs their face. Not with baby, but with exquisitely prepared dishes. On the menu today were braised ribs, sliced beef, hard boiled eggs, glutinous rice cakes, sautéed snap peas, a lovely beef soup, some meat balls, a fruit platter and, of course, the inevitable fish – head, tail, fins and all.

At least this was a whole fish, as opposed to the fish head that graced our table Friday afternoon, when I went out with Mouse and Daisy. I never knew a fish head could be picked so clean. I’ll not go into details.

David and his wife, who live in the school apartment complex a few buildings down from me, drove me to the shindig. Their little Devan was in attendance (15 months old). On the way we picked up Sam and my little buddy, Erica. Once there we met up with Daisy and Steve, with their 8 month old. Julia and Chris brought Little Eddie, my own Benjamin’s ‘twin’ (See the Great Baby Race entry, posted July 2012). At the other table were The Baby of Honor (6 months old), with his parents, of course; the department secretary and her 4 year old daughter, yet another Helen with her husband and baby (10 months old). Miller came alone, his wife and baby having stayed at home. The youngest baby of the bunch was Hellen Shao’s. She is due in February.

It is customary at such affairs to offer up a ‘hong bau’ – a red envelope, containing money. I’ve mentioned these before but let me recap: for special occasions one offers such an envelope with a certain sum of money inside, usually 100Yuan. One should put their name on the back of the envelope so that the gift can be recorded and returned, guanxi style, at some later date.

At the proper time, I was proud to proffer my hong bau in traditional manner – both hands extended, envelope between the first 2 fingers of each hand. Imagine my surprise when my offering was turned down!!!

It seems that, while it is proper Chinese culture to offer a red envelope, as a foreigner I was not expected to abide. In fact, the hostess/mother of the baby being celebrated told me that I should follow my own culture’s customs.

I have a conundrum. I was born in France and grew up there, in Germany and in America. Now live in China, mainly because I have an affinity for Chinese culture. Which country’s traditions should I claim as mine?

And how should I react to a gift being spurned?

I pouted. That is, I pooched my lower lip out and made puppy dog eyes while again offering my envelope. Peny, the hostess, again averred I should follow my country’s custom. Seeing as most of my colleagues believe me to be 100% American, I suppose she expected me to follow that culture and offer a gift, rather than money. It being a little late for me to go gift shopping, and not knowing her baby’s gender I was definitely caught out, as far as American custom was concerned.

Now the puppy dog eyes got seriously droopy, and a skilled pilot could have landed a small aircraft on my lower lip, as far as it was protruding. Finally, she accepted my gift. I smiled and the party raged on. 

This incident gave me pause. Not just for the question posed above – which culture should I claim as mine, but also: what would be considered quintessentially American?

Don Henley, eminent sage and Eagles drummer, stated: “Our primary exports being junk food and rock and roll …”

He may have a point with the junk food. Burger King is constantly packed to bursting, as are KFC, Pizza Hut, Papa John’s and the ubiquitous McDonalds. I have classrooms full of students longing to savor turkey and steak. What else besides food do we have that is fundamentally American, seeing as American culture is made up of many cultures, all of which lay claim to their original ethnicity? Or, at least, an accepted version thereof?

I’ve decided to put my students to the test. That will be the subject of the next 3 weeks’ lessons: we will explore the many facets of American culture.

We’ll also delve into Chinese culture. What is essentially Chinese? Food? Language/writing system? Kung fu? They should know. These kids are amazing when it comes to deciphering their heritage.

In the meantime, with the additional duty of coaching the debate team for competition in 2 weeks, I’m glad to have such a rich and deep well of subject matter to tap. No need for me to plan lessons for at least 3 weeks, and all I have to do is finish the presentation I’m preparing.

Now, one small problem: we don’t have a debate team.

That’s going to make this job extra challenging. Not only do I get to handpick our team, but I get to work with them intensely for the next 2 weeks to prepare them for competition. Another stumbling block: I know how to debate but not the mechanics of debating. Thanks to technology, the kids and I can watch videos to learn exactly how to do it. So, no sweat for me: I’m learning new things, and I know who I want to represent our school. Now I’ve just got to get them to agree to work intensely for the next couple of weeks and help them choose what to wear.

Fortunately there are no parties to attend in the near future. Hellen Shao had her baby on the 10^th of February; a little girl. She won’t ‘come out’ for at least another 5 months. By then, the debate competition will be over.

Wish us luck!    

     

Blogger, Not?

I've not written much of late. I mentioned that in the last entry. Wonder why?

A while back it occurred to me that everything I did was for the blog. I don't remember exactly which entry included the line: 'I record impressions and write about them'. Perhaps around the time I visited my friend in Suizhou? Whenever it was, I realized I was traveling for the sole purpose of blogging, and not spending much time enjoying what I was doing. Not that I don't enjoy blogging.

One thing I've grown tired of is doing everything by myself. For most of my life, solitary pursuits have been my quest. Traveling by myself just isn't fun anymore. Gary, the perfect travel companion for me, is busy getting his friend's business off the ground while also managing his affairs. With my liberal schedule, I often find myself taking to the rails and roadways alone. I should find other traveling buddies.

Another reason is that I have fallen into a very comfortable life. Not exactly mundane, but nothing remarkable. I teach, and have a lot of fun doing so. I travel and enjoy seeing new things. Culture, social differences... there are still things to write about, but can I do so with authority?

Can this blogger write satisfying entries without sacrificing the joy of experiencing?

I've yet to find middle ground. I've gone from one extreme to the other: from living to blog to living without blogging about every single thing.

Bear with me, please. There are still adventures to be had, still places to visit, still mountains to climb. And now that I feel so much better, climbing mountains seems a fine idea! Besides, aren't you happy I'm not writing about my health anymore?

Just let the weather warm up a little, and then off I go.

The Spoiled Rotten Tour

If I was a superstar of song and stage, I would headline this stateside trip as above. Granted, while in China I am a bit of a superstar, but China is not America... as I've to condition myself to each time I return. Therefore, this title indicates the general theme of this year's whirlwind visit. 

It has been more than just a little while ago that I've taken to the keyboard. In the flurry of stateside visits I did not wish you a happy Lunar New Year, or even welcome you to the Year of the Horse. Doesn't mean you weren't on my mind and it certainly does not indicate that I had no way to blog, seeing as my conspirators have gifted me this wonderful new machine I currently and talking to you on.

Truth is, I've been spoiled rotten. Everywhere I went I was welcomed with open arms... nothing new there. However, it seems this year everyone had it in for me, gift-wise.

Of course, you know Jenn treated me to a trip to the Magic Kingdom (see Goin' Disney entry, posted October 2013). She also surprised me with a flannel sheet set – won't they be toasty in the winter? And the most whimsical of gifts: a pair of zebra-striped footie pajamas, complete with  faces on the feet. I love them!!!

My Jenn is simply beautiful. She has lost a substantial amount of weight since last year and has given me my pick of everything that does not fit her anymore. I balked. Remember my minimalist plan? Living with only what I absolutely need? Of course, I need clothes, but  not a new outfit for every day, and not excessively dressy clothes. Besides, I only have 1 suitcase, and its weight limit is fifty pounds (22 kilos). And, because I still had a lot of visiting to do, I would have to carry those clothes with me on every plane and lug them around at every stop. However, she pooched her lower lip out when I declined to take some of the clothes. They simply weren't my style or a color I like to wear. Her pouting goaded me to pack everything, leaving shoes and other things behind for her to mail to me.

At the airport in Tampa, in spite of having used compression bags for all those clothes my suitcase was still more than 3 pounds overweight. Picture the mad scramble to lighten my load by 3.5 pounds and finding a place to stuff that excess. My backpack and the laptop case, given me by my conspirators was already full to bursting.

The one thing I was not about to throw away was my Barry Manilow concert ticket stub. I've been a Manilow fan since my tender years, when he was just starting out. He has more than 40 years in the business and I have to reason: how many more concerts will he give? And how likely will it be that I will be able to attend? An evening with Barry was another 'spoilage', but it was I that treated Jenn.

Tampa brought Disney, Barry and the Superbowl. Jenn and I are not football fans so we hung out in her room, watching The Shining and snacking on finger foods like pizza rolls and potato chips. That was the only day that we did not leave the house.

Another thing Tampa brought was the Color Run. For so long Jenn had not been in any kind of shape to take part in anything physical. Her weight loss has given her the strength, ability and desire to take part in The Color Run, a 5K race whose theme is FUN! While savoring amusement by the handfuls, I spilled tears of joy at watching her run. Until recently, I reasoned she would be severely incapacitated within a few years, if not devastatingly ill due to that weight. Way to go, Jenn!!!

Memphis brought a reunion with Lisa and Bonnie, a pedicure, and a massage. Lots of hugs, a peaceful feeling of belonging, conviviality, food, chocolate, more chocolate and even more chocolate. Dove, dark and mint; chocolate Chex Mix with caramel corn. Such a chocolate overload that even now, back home, I resist chocolate. I'm betting that won't last long.

So spoiled rotten was I that I did not have room in my suitcase for everything. Darrell, in California -  my last stop before winging back offered up a second suitcase. Sure, it would have been easy to take him up on it. Maybe I wouldn't have had to leave my house shoes behind, and I could have packed the health/beauty aids that I bought to see me through my trip.  

Jenn promised to send a package containing all the stuff I had to leave behind: my new shoes, clothing  I left in the laundry, gifts for my Chinese friends. If that package had arrived while I was still visiting, I would have been forced to take Darrell up on his offer of a second bag. Was I spared because it did not come?

I have something to look forward to: Darrell will forward that parcel, after including some things I forgot, or that he thinks I might like (read: junk food). I'm all ready to be surprised. Jenn said she also packed a few things she thought I might like.

One surprise I did not know about: the truck. When I opened my computer case at TSA security at LAX, I had to laugh out loud. SOMEhow, one of Ben's trucks found its way into my satchel, and I suspect, not by accident. Apparently it dove in after I packed my laptop, because the case was filled nearly to bursting after I secured the computer. Somehow, my mysterious truck benefactor found room for it.

What I didn't find till I got home: the cherry pie. I knew there was a cherry pie lurking about Darrell's apartment, because that became one of his and my rituals: going to McDonald's for a midafternoon cup of coffee, while Ben napped (Sammie was home to watch him; we did not leave him there alone). That first afternoon, he observed that McDonald's apparently no longer serves cherry pie. At the cost of fifty cents, I made a liar out of him. From that day on, cherry pie and coffee became the staple.      

So how did this one, errant cherry pie make it into my bag? Even now I laugh. He must have gone to McDonald's on the sly, snuck it into the house and then into my bag. No other explanation.

Yes, this was indeed a 'spoiled rotten' tour. Back in China, in my unheated apartment, under Sam's watchful and eager eye (he got spoiled rotten, too), I raked over my wealth: a bottle of perfume I would never have bought for myself. Flannel sheets and footie jammies, wicking socks and extra thick ski socks, clothes and more clothes, books, top of the line computer with case... and let's not forget my cast iron skillet, I reflect how rich I am. Not in materials… while nice, 'things' matter very little in the end, don't you know. Rich in love, in friends, in happiness, experience and memories. More than the sheets, the jammies and the socks, that is what keeps me warm.

If you think I was the only one spoiled rotten this year, you are wrong.

I started accumulating gifts for my loved ones as early as March. Come time to pack and head stateside, I was in a tizzy: I had more gifts than I had suitcase to pack them in! With no time to buy a second suitcase, I improvised. Having received a package in a sturdy, triple corrugate box, I reasoned I could use that box as a makeshift suitcase. (Probably) no one would frown on it, seeing as last year, when I performed in the Teacher Talent Showcase for our school, I used a box as a prop and was asked repeatedly if I was returning to America. Over here, boxes, with a handle fashioned out of tape or string is considered luggage.

Except for the nouveau riche Chinese. They wish to display their wealth by any means possible. Air travel is one way to do so, and shiny new luggage is another. So here I am, this foreigner with a box and a duffel bag for luggage, among Chinese towing their rollaround, hardshell suitcases.

You could say I was displaying my Chinese-ness while they were showing their wealth.

I only took 3 sets of clothes with me, and hardly any health/beauty aids. What filled my suitcase?

Gifts. Small, large, extravagant and handmade gifts. From me, from Sam, from Gary. Gifts filled my suitcase. My measly 3 sets of clothing went into the cardboard box.

See? I wasn't the only one spoiled rotten, this tour!