Haoweiyan's Blog

In an effort to lift the spirits of the young English learners, the notion to incorporate music into the lesson plan seemed most reasonable. Despite shy characteristics exhibited by most Chinese (students) in situations where the spotlight is on one, singing is embraced by most all, whether or not an appropriate pitch realized.
The 7th graders oral skills put them at a severe disadvantage in having fun in class, but with simplistic tunes such as the Beatles, “Hello Goodbye” fun was to be had by all. The students found the singing amusing and gratifying on numerous levels. First, singing is a common activity for all ages and many enjoy the numerous KTV (Karaoke T.V.?) venues to vibrate the vocal chords. Jishou has numerous KTV spot establishments throughout the city as do most other Chinese cities. Second, it was not the regular run of the mill dialogue and listening activities that undoubtedly become stale for both student and teacher. Thirdly, it was encouraging for the students to see that what they had learned actually had practical application rather than just words with a bizarre pronunciation strung together in no apparent order. And finally, the singing lesson was coupled with a competition to see which group of students could sing the loudest and clearest, adding fuel to the excitement. I was duly impressed by the ability of the students to quickly pick up the melody and sing along to one of the great bands in history.
With the prospect of coming to China last this past summer, one goal was to teach my students a Phish song. Yes, preference is given to Michael Jackson or Lady Gaga, (side note: students also say, “Oh my Lady Gaga” as a medium to express excitement which I find quite annoying) but passing up a moment to spread the wonders of Phish to the impressionable minds in Jishou was inconceivable. After locating the lyrics to “Farmhouse,” and constructing a rough translation into Chinese hoping the students would enjoy the song more if they knew what they were actually saying, the experiment was ready. The translation’s structure was most likely not unlike the walking bridge at the Common Wealth games of India which collapsed before being used, but a basic understanding was achieved. First, the printed lyrics were distributed throughout the classroom to all the students before we read through the lyrics slowly to gain a decent grasp of the pronunciation. In an effort to rev-up excitement before attempting to sing the song as a class, I played the song on guitar and sang for the class. My voice is certainly not pleasurable to the auditory senses, but nonetheless the students gave me a warm applause. We then listened to the song multiple times. By the third listen, many students began to sing or hum much of the song. I then broke the classes up into thirds to incorporate a little competition within the class to spur on enthusiasm. Just before the bell rang in one of my classes, as the final group was coming to the final chorus I motioned for the remainder of the class to join in and the room filled with the sweet melody. By far, this was the most enjoyable moment for me as a teacher as my mouth became the predominant facial structure.

After dinner this evening, Kevin and Ben began their journey along the parallel steal lines running south to spend the National Day’s holiday. Thus, I will be the only American in Jishou for seven days. Despite having ample work to complete for graduate school applications and preparing lessons for the weeks to come, taking the guitar to the music store for new strings possessed greater appeal. At the music store I visited with a similar aged man as he wired the instrument. During our conversation he inquired as to how I enjoy most evenings to which I was unable to provide a captivating response. He then suggested that we go to a bar later in the evening that I grudgingly agreed to. (“Wink,” of course I’m down to go to a bar for 一瓶 [a bottle].)
At 8 o’clock a blue Ford pulled up to the middle school with three of his friends, his best friend and two girls. Both girls were attractive, but not available because one was the other’s girlfriend, and the other was the ex of my new acquaintance. (During our conversation that evening, I learned that one has a twin who is also attractive. Keep your hopes up, I can’t be single FOREVER!) On the south end of Jishou we arrived in QianZhou, which is Jishou’s new area. On the second level overlooking a pond with a small island and a tree, we settled into the circular couch and table. After a short while, a singer arrived, and after a couple of tunes my new friend, Zhao LiPing, went up to sing a song with the performer. When he had finished he encouraged me to humor the group. Oh no! First, I can’t sing, I really cannot sing. Second, I have never played in front of people. Sure, a couple friends and my parents, but not in public. Zhao knew I played a little guitar from coming to his music shop and testing some guitars. How can I get out of this? With no excuses, I reluctantly obliged. I played two songs, Dave Matthews’ covers, as if that were even a question or option. At the end of the set everyone clapped and the boss of the bar came over to compliment my effort. This praise was most likely sympathy as genuine auditory pleasure would have been unattainable given my performance.
And that was my first performance, no better place than China I suppose. Plans for an encore are not in the works, but it was rather exciting, and with a little practice maybe I will once again take the stage for a little ditty. Playing in front of others in my imagination had always ended in mass embarrassment, but I feel I can now relate to the enjoyment my younger brother relishes when he plays in front of hundreds of people.

Ahhh, a holiday. Wednesday through Friday off from work, time to enjoy the Mid-Autumn Festival! The statement is true, but also deceiving. Yes, no work for three days in a row mid-week, but the days had to be made up during the weekend… The previous Sunday included Wednesday’s classes and this weekend the other two days were made-up.
The Mid-Autumn Festival (Moon Festival): Dating back thousands of years, this festival began with a legend of a man saving civilization from the scorching heat of 10 suns by firing his arrow and dropping nine out of the ten from the sky. He was then celebrated by peoples from near and afar and a beautiful woman became his bride. The fable then starts to become enchanting with the heroes wife drinking an elixir and soaring out of the window to the moon and our hero serenating the moon. And thus, during the festival, moon cakes are the chosen snack to enjoy while gazing at the celestial body in all its glory. Other accounts trace the reverence to people who worshiped the moon. Mid-Autumn Festival is also around harvest season when food is plentiful and a content belly is reason to celebrate, not unlike Thanksgiving in the United States. This would be an opportune moment to include some provocative statement how Thanksgiving could be the start of the American Imperialism that has enveloped us to this day, but I’ll refrain.
Wednesday morning the American teachers from the college near me and three of their students departed on the winding road to Fenghuang for a night’s stay. Arriving near noon, we found refuge in the restaurant of Danielle’s (one of the students) sister. Adhering to the celebratory mood (despite the cold rain) we dined on delicious duck, tried meats, a wide assortment of vegetables and an assortment of other mixed plates. Since my family is 11-15 hours behind in the U.S., this is the closest family I have near me, and it was a pleasure to share a delicious meal with them.
After the past month of sweltering heat, I was unable to have faith in the weather forecast of highs in the 60’s for the weekend. Fail. I had also only brought sandals as the night before my shoes were soaked through and through from walking in the rain. After searching, some reasonably priced shoes caught my attention to provide comfort my cold toes. At a small tourist shop, I also stocked up on my favorite underwear that I hadn’t seen since Vietnam two years ago. Trust me, they’re something special.
After a cold, wet day walking in the rain, it was difficult to remain in high spirits as the moon began to appear from the horizon. Sidestepping the plentiful, lively bars, we found a quite watering-hole overlooking the water where we had a drink and played cards before separating from the girls and heading back to the hostel for the evening. Plans to go to bed immediately were quickly halted by the owner of the restaurant calling us over to the table to enjoy some chestnuts and a concoction of juice and…..and baijiu. The owner (manager?) of the hostel had apparently been enjoying the fruity blend well before we arrived. He did manage to get Kevin’s name down and close enough on mine. Number 1” was applied in reference to me from my work at the Middle School No. 1 in Jishou. The Laoban (boss) also frequently mentioned the friendship Americans and Chinese, but gave an equal amount or more to remarks about how Japanese were not welcome at the hostel. Japanese, 滚, gǔn (Get lost!), Americans, 来, lái, (Come!). After a group of girls joined us for some rock-paper-scissors-esque games, and carrying the sleeping laoban to his room, we too retired.
The next day we were scheduled to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lacey for lunch. The Lacey’s are an American couple who live in Fenghuang and have watched the city feverishly grow to keep pace with the burgeoning tourism in the area. The Lacey’s are in fact aiding the people in the area in a more substantial manner than any of the petty shops overcharging elated tourists who flock to Fenghuang. The couple owns a business which employs local women from Fenghuang as well as those living in surrounding villages to embroider elaborate designs that are sewn onto everything from coin purses to backpacks. The items are then shipped and sold in Bible stores around the United States. After a tour of the home/factory we settled around the table for a home cooked meal of some vegetables and meat loaf, complete with Heinz ketchup and chocolate cake for dessert. I have not waned for my love of Chinese food yet.
Following our encounter with the Lacey’s we went on a hike in hopes of discovering a vantage point to the surrounding area. The mountains ascent failed to provide an adequate perspective to capture the scenery of Fenghuang and surrounding region, but the landscape was nonetheless pleasing to the senses. Late that afternoon five of us returned to Jishou, while Danielle stayed to spend time with her family. The following day, Ben, the other teacher at the college called to let me know Danielle had brought us each a bag of slightly dehydrated kiwis! Mmmm, delicious, and yet another unnecessary gift from our gracious host.
Classes and a run
Sunday classes resumed to make the extra day we had off due to the holiday. I can confidently say that it is not efficient to have me teaching the 7th grade. First, the students do not take me seriously as my classes amount to a mere sliver of their total regiment and I am not to give homework, thus, they have no responsibilities. Second, I have no control. The students chatter unmercifully throughout class despite my efforts to yell, single-out students and move at a quick pace to not completely lose the herd of cats’ diminished attention span. My last class of the day I had had enough so I pulled out one student do a wall-sit for the final 10 minutes while holding out his arms. I thought he was going to collapse near the end. He will find himself in a similar position next week if I hear a peep out of him.
Until yesterday, running has been low on the list of things I really want to do as I have previously mentioned despite my love for it in the past couple of years. One of the students from the college offered to bike while I run for a short expedition. On the first incline I pushed her bike up the hill. The second hill we stopped for a break, and after a brief effort it was decided I would go alone. Jishou is a narrow city and after heading straight east I soon found myself alone, save a few houses alongside the road where the chickens and ducks squabbled. The voyage into the steep hills covered in vegetation and rice patties lasted over an hour. Thanks to the scenery and feeling of freedom from car horns and noisy children my feet pressed on past the 11 mile mark. The exercise, fresh air and tranquility of the run provided me more sustenance to my mental and physical health than any amount of sleep or food could ever provide. The residents along this road would best prepare themselves to see a ghost gliding along their road for the next year.

In Chinese, my family name is 郝, Hǎo (similar sound to Howe with a falling and rising tone.) This character is a common family name, but hǎo written as 好 also means “good.” Despite being addressed as Mr. Howe, or my full Chinese name, 郝伟研, Hǎo Wěiyán, most students call me 郝老师, Hao Lǎoshī, Teacher Hǎo. If the specific character is unknown it shares the same sound as “Good Teacher.” The thought is always on my mind if I am literally living up to the name. Are these students benefiting from the time they spend with me? How can I present the information clearly and effectively? Is what I present even useful? And how the hell do I keep 70+ adolescents under control?
Each class brings about its own mayhem. Whether students are throwing things at each other, hitting each other, or most recently, thinking they can cuss in Chinese around me because I don’t understand. Along with simple phrases, moderate slang has entered into my (unused) repertoire of Chinese. In two classes, two students uttered the worst of obscenities. On both occasions the students were more than frightened when a firm grasp attached itself to their shoulder. I asked them to repeat what they had just said but besides moving their head around to avoid eye contact, they were speechless. I think this was enough to prevent more obscenities spewing from their mouths as surely if I did say something they would be chastised to no end by the Chinese teachers
The lesson planning is difficult for me as I learn how to say and write each word and phrase that may be new in hopes of communicating more clearly, as well as trying to improve my own language skills. It is laborious, but I feel if I want to be an effective teacher as well as ever learn this tonal tongue, the effort is worth it. Thus far, the translating has worked well for getting specific words translate, but has also encouraged the students to graciously assist me in my pronunciation. Often times I must remind the students that it is English Class not Chinese Class.

Friends (朋友 )
Kevin and I share the same home state and are only separated by an hour’s drive, but it took coming to the boondocks of China to actually become acquainted. I’m referring to another English teacher from the Princeton in Asia-Jishou program who teaches at a community college just a stone’s throw from my middle school’s campus. He is joined by another recent graduate, Ben, who is also teaching English at the same school. It is a welcome relief to see familiar skin color and here my own language. Kevin and Ben have also been gracious enough to introduce me to some of their students. The majority of the students at the college where they teach are female. Besides these two gents, my only other friend in Jishou is a Yìn Fányù. Yin is a local Jishou-ian, and has been kind of enough to bear the eyes of curious onlookers in public when in my presence. His English is far superior to my Chinese (not a crowning achievement by any means) but we still have a fair amount of trouble communicating. However, between his smartphone and my new electronic dictionary, we get by. Most meeting revolve around a little street food, but has recently been expanded to vegetables soaked in some liquid and then smothered in chili peppers, as well as 煲仔饭, baozaifan, which is pressure cooked rice in a clay pot with veggies and meat providing the topping.
I know I said I wouldn’t talk so much about food, but I have to include small observation. While eating some street food the other night with the Americans and some of their Chinese colleagues, a new “salt-looking” additive was added to the dish. The inquiry as to what the special ingredient was revealed it to be MSG. The intentional addition of MSG to add a little flavor to perfectly delicious stir-fry was already bewildering enough, but a colleague of the Americans informed me that it was organic MSG. Organic MSG, now if that isn’t a conundrum I don’t know what is. Well maybe organic high-fructose corn syrup….no, I think organic MSG takes the cake as most bizarre organic additive.

Things I have noticed recently
A queue, a Qing Dynasty style hair cut that involves all of the boys hair except the back (please look up, I can’t describe it) is donned in some shape or form by most every little boy I see. My favorite thus far was one little tyke who was practicing his Kung Fu on the streets. The queue gave him an air of legitimacy.
Eye contact, or lack thereof. Oral English involves speaking, and thus I often ask students to answer questions or give examples. Upon approaching a student who doesn’t immediately know the answer cannot look at me. Especially if the student has been disruptive and I indicate that it is their turn to speak, then will not look at me. The students will look to each other in hopes another will be able to provide a response, but never will they look at me. If I am upset I will demand they look at me, but that only lasts as long as it takes for the eyes to meet before they are quickly shifted in a new direction. I just find that interesting as I find it in all of my students.
Running the family business. Last night I went with a friend to get a few veggies just before most of the street vendors were closing up shop. We stopped at what appeared to be a mother-daughter station where they had an assortment of vegetables laid out on clothes on the street. I paid the woman for the veggies but before we walked away, the woman and the “daughter” stopped us as we hadn’t paid the little girl who couldn’t have been older than 10. I still believe the two were parent and child, but it appears the woman has given her daughter her share of responsibilities in hopes of giving her the skills to support herself. Is this wrong? In the U.S. child welfare advocates would raise hell. Child labor! That kid needs to be in school! Terrible parenting! I would see that as a shallow point of view. The U.S. is absurdly fortunate to have free schools for (most) all children. Undoubtedly an education is most always viewed as paramount to success, a strong understanding of running a business, from garden to street, is all that is required to eat and put a roof on the four walls.
Fireworks, again. Saturday night slept encroached upon my brain around midnight and I beckoned its call. As I drifted into nothingness with my earplugs firmly implanted, a barrage of fireworks shook my heart. Outside my window a row of cars funneled around the road inside the campus of the middle school while the fireworks announced their presence. A group of people then gathered in discussion before one man stepped out in front of the rest with flowers in hand. The procession followed him to behind my apartment to another complex. A little later, I was again awakened by a second announcement of fireworks that the “groom” returning with his (future?) wife on his back were returning to go and celebrate. I mention this in my section because all of this is going on between 12:45 and 1:30 right outside my apartment, other teachers’ apartments and all of the students who live at the school during the week. I understand celebrations, and I do like them, but a time and place; please. Was there no forethought as to who would be disrupted on a weeknight in the parking lot of a boarding school?

Communal Communism? I would have thought these two words would have gone together, but in day to day living, I’m not seeing it. Taking care of guests at any expense to insure comfort appears to be the highest priority, but when it comes to public living, care for one another and the shared environment is not there. Two examples:
Trash-The street corners usually do not have more than one or two small garbage cans but they never seem to be full. Street workers are usually hard at work, but most of the petty trash created throughout the day by individuals perusing the streets is simply dropped at any given spot. There doesn’t seem to be a worry about having a trash-lined city by most people actions. (Jishou is not trash-lined thanks to the hard working people who are employed to clean the sidewalks and streets.)
Traffic-Crossing the street is not for the faint of heart. Cars and people slip in between each other to whatever is deemed a crosswalk by pedestrians. I include this aspect in this segment because the attitude seems to be, “I will go there, and everyone else will have to either wait or go around in some other fashion.” People traffic on the sidewalks is also highly variable in flow. First, no one walks as fast as we do in America, but I believe that to be true for most of the world and not just the Chinese. The second half of it is that no one seems to realize if they are blocking some or all of the narrow sidewalks as they stop to talk on their phone or just ponder life’s questions. The past few days have been rainy and umbrellas pose a significant risk to vulnerable eyes navigating the crowded sidewalks.

The dinner Tuesday evening with the teachers brought yet another invitation from the principle for a dinner with the mayor of Jishou. A meeting time was not given, but a quarter after 5 p.m. Wei Zida called said, “Andrew, I’m waiting for you at the front gate!” Wei Zida talks fast, and often I hear conversations in Chinese that seem to border on verbal warfare, so I was not sure if he was indeed angry with me for not being there or if it was just Wei being Wei. After slapping on some “man stuff” (deodorant), I rushed to the school’s entrance. Wei was not angry in the least, but we did make haste to find the nearest taxi. I like times, and I like to be on time; but in China, with Wei Zida, it is a luxury I may have to do without.

The parking lot of the hotel where we would soon eat dinner held luxury vehicles and seemingly rich, beautiful guests passing the front doors held open by employees. It is most likely the finest hotel in Jishou. In the great hall of the restaurant, 20 tables or more displayed a plethora of dishes on a rotating swivel, accompanied by wine, beer, and you guessed it, baijiu… The purpose of the dinner was never fully discussed with me, but the 100-200 guests mainly comprised of teachers and officials. At one end of the hall was a grand table with twenty seats and a rotating swivel powered by an electric motor. This table was for the principles, the top officials in Jishou including the mayor, and yours truly. The seat next to the mayor was where I soon found myself. To begin the evening, a microphone was yielded as one of the principles (?) gave introductions as to who were the “big potatoes” as Wei Zida affectionately described their status. The orator also introduced me as their American friend which I then stood and gave a quick bow as the rest had done. The mayor then stood and gave a short speech to the entire audience before leading the large table to in a toast. We all held our glasses of “the best” and most expensive baijiu (500 yuan for one bottle, roughly $75) and then despite not understanding a word before, I heard ganbei. [Uh oh, ganbei, ok, drink the whole glass.] I drank the whole glass as to not disappoint but as soon as I had brought my eye level back to neutral, chuckles erupted from the rest of the table. I was told immediately following the healthy gulp that the first one of the evening is just a taste. Stupid foreigner! Despite having lavish dishes, including turtle which is delicious, the night’s focus was on toasting all the dignitaries. After drinking my first glass of the clear juice, I slowed up and the night finished smoothly.

Earlier that day my Chinese tutor invited me to an American movie in the theater but I had to decline for the dinner so I proposed we try to go Friday. I told this to Wei Zida who informed me that I was to attend yet another dinner Friday.

No movie, but Luo Man, my Chinese tutor came to my apartment at 4:30 for a lesson that Friday. After trying to order an electronic dictionary online, we began our lesson. At 5:15, Wei again calls me, “Andrew! I’m waiting for you at the front gate!” The lesson was cut short and I scurried to change and run out to the front gate.

In yet another spectacular hotel, the teachers and education board from all of Jishou’s schools sat in five conjoined dining rooms. While waiting for all the guests to arrive, Wei Zida’s audacious curiosity prompted him to ask how much the meal would be costing. The organizer replied that he had reserved 10,000 Yuan (nearly $1,500) for the meal! Again, I was placed at the center table with the “Big Potatoes.” This meal was in celebration of the achievements of the teachers the past year that raised the students’ level according to national standards. Again, delicious food, and again baijiu… Despite the meal meant to honor the teachers, it was a popular idea to come to me for a toast. I remained in relative control, but the night turned into quite the event with roaring laughter filling the smoky room. Near the end of the night, the principle of the school where I teach was becoming fed up with people toasting him. It was all in good fun, but he vehemently tried without success to deny more toast as he was visibly intoxicated. At one point in the evening he called his wife over from another table and asked her if she would claim him in his current condition. Bottles were falling over and being slammed on tables. After having to cancel plans for hiking at 6 in the morning the day after this dinner, I took it real easy.

I know, I know, dinners are all I talk about, but that is all I do. The night after the teacher’s dinner, another teacher took me out to eat with his son and also my student. The teacher wanted me to drink baijiu with him, but after the night before, it wasn’t going to happen. Tonight I am going to yet another dinner with all the teachers from the middle schools in Jishou. During the week meals are provided in the cafeteria, but on the weekends I am on my own. That has hardly proven true as I have been so graciously invited to a never ending streak of dinners.

Next post will include dialogue outside of food, I PROMISE!

Wei Zida arrived at my door at a quarter after 5 to let me know that we would depart for dinner at 5:30 rather than the scheduled six. Not surprising. We walked only a block and a half from the school to an upstairs restaurant with private dining rooms. The restaurant was empty, yet a full team of hosts and servers were there to greet us. Wei explained his phone had died so we had to arrive early, and normally everyone must be waiting at the table for the guest (me) to arrive. Wei apologized, but it of course was unnecessary as I was glad to have a moment to talk with him before the 10 others arrived. Two by two, they all eventually arrived. The head of 7th grade and 8th grade, head of this department and that, and next to me sat the principle and vice principle. Dish after dish began to arrive until we had more than a dozen plates of assorted vegetables and meats. The highlight was wild boar. The teachers were also curious to know how much I could drink, and if I liked wine. Not wine as in made with grapes, Chinese wine, baijiu, “white alcohol,” aka white lightning, aka bai-juice, aka rubbing alcohol. I made the notion that I prefer beer. Throughout the meal I felt pregnancy symptoms as my midsection inflated to the point of bursting. Throughout the dinner, one member of the posse would stand and cheers me. I drank a few bottles of beer, but it was nothing like the night in Wuhan with the vodka and beer that took all at the table to their limits. This coming Thursday I will have another dinner with the principal and what I believe will be the mayor of Jishou. I have been warned that baijiu, will be the drink of choice…
After dinner Wei told me that all at the table enjoyed my company and that my personality would lend itself well to teaching. I don’t know if they actually said this or not, but I will take it. The relief of hearing approval is much more calming than uncertainty. I had been nervous before the dinner because I feel terribly rude that not being able to speak Chinese. Near the end of the dinner I had enough liquid confidence to stutter a “thank you” to all, and a special thanks to Wei Zida for all that he had done for me thus far. Everyone nodded and the principle said if Wei Zida is that great, then he (the principle) must be REALLY, REALLY great to which we all shared a hearty laugh.
After foolishly staying up later than I needed to, I awoke at 6:15 to the Japanese attacking! No it wasn’t the Japanese, but despite having my windows closed and earplugs in, a barrage of noise filled my head. I looked out the window to see what the commotion was and I believe it was a large load of fireworks being set off. It was the clamoring of 100 machine guns going off with the missiles whistling through the early morning dawn. I couldn’t see anything and was too tired to leave my apartment have a first person account of the sights. I am positive this was real as I looked at my clock that read 6:18 and then walked over to the window, but after I went to my bed again my dreams picked up where the story left off.
Today is “Teacher’s Day” and I was graciously given a bouquet of carnations(?) from the students. Well maybe not from the students exactly, but they were the ones who presented them to me in my second class.
Classes today went well as I found more ways to integrate interesting dialogue into standard learning. However, as with the first week, my last class of the day on Wednesday will most likely prove to be the most challenging. The class is ready to be done with school, but it also troublesome as the students seem to have extra energy and cannot shut up. The boys are unruly and the girls are more interested in flirting than listening. I presented some dialogue today that included reactions to a boy (or girl) receiving a kiss. After I mentioned it, the “plastics” of the class stood up to blow me kisses and one shouted “I love you!” I want to see the kids speak as much as possible in English and the topic doesn’t necessarily have to be intellectual, but the flirting would best be left out. I haven’t decided on how to deal with the class yet. I moved one student and although another student most likely did not understand what I said, it was clear that he was not allowed to speak one word the rest of the class. I’m afraid if I’m not somewhat strict with the students early on, it will be shear hell the rest of the year. I have refrained from seeking outside help, that is to tattle-tail, but it may come to that soon if I do not gain respect from this class.

I want to share a tidbit about teaching from today since me former posts trended towards the negative aspects.  My 8^th grade classes were great!  I took Wei’s advice and explained that the random phrases I was putting up on the board were tongue twisters as well as kept the dialogue brief which improved understanding and responses.  That isn’t what has me fired up though.  When I enter all the classrooms I begin with “Hello” and “How are you?”  This is automatically followed in unison with, “I’m fine, thanks” and maybe a couple “How are you?”s. Today I hoped to inspire a little change as well as become more effective.  I wrote on the board “How are you” with a few alternative responses.  I did the same with “Hey, how’s it going?”  To this I included the standard responses, but also introduced casual speech by altering “going” to “goin”, as well as response of, “Oh, just terrible!”  I then took it further with having the dialogue ask “why?” and I provided a few responses such as, “It’s too hot!” or “I have too much work to do!”  I told them it was cool to say, “Hey how’s it going?” but told them it was even COOOOOOLER to say, “Hey, what’s up?”

I believe that a more outgoing and positive attitude, coupled with practical usage, rather than just “What is your favorite color?” type dialogue, the children were more interactive, and hopefully learned something.  I have remained careful to distinguish when it is appropriate and not to use phrases such as “What’s up?” so that they do not embarrass themselves.

Besides the 13 year olds sitting in the desk, I am also a student who walked away from today a little bit smarter.  In the coming classes, when I do go over colors, I will teach the standard responses, but also how to say, “Not brown, brown is UGLY!”  or something silly like that to hold attention as well as provide a little inspiration to speak.

Tonight I’m going to dinner with the principal and other teachers.  It will undoubtedly be more food than I can eat, but also an embarrassment in trying to speak Chinese.  However, a meal outside of the cafeteria, count me in!

As the bell sounds after my last class of the day and week, I breathe a sigh of relief.  Not because I don’t like teaching, but I become frustrated with my lack of teaching skills and the level of effort from the students at times.  However I’m sure the frustration is felt by the students as they struggle to understand English for forty straight minutes.  Friday was my first day of teaching the 7^th grade and when the bell struck I was ready to sips some suds.  I know the students can conjugate verbs, retain a relatively decent vocabulary, but speaking is not part of the repertoire.  Besides some fillers, colors were the topic of choice, but most students became stalled on the word favorite.  I tried to explain in Chinese, “one color you really like.”  My Chinese must be truly inept as it didn’t seem to truly help.

Friday evening brought my nightly walk, but despite enjoying escaping my four walls and roof, I usually dread actually being on the walk.  My sentiment is primarily due to my tail and long tentacles that brush the tops of doorways before drooping behind me on the earth.  I don’t know what is in the water of Jishou for the people to see me in such a light.  No, I understand, I am unusual here, and I don’t believe anyone has any negative feelings.  My blinding pale skin and moderate height is merely something that some have only seen in a pirated Hollywood film.  Despite my discomforting feelings toward the eyes of my fellow Jishou-ians, I have found a lovely couple that sells a random assortment of goods as well as drinks.  I taught them how to say beer and green tea in English.  The woman also displayed her impeccable English counting skills, 1-4.  I don’t say this sarcastically, it was a fun experience for both me and the couple.

Saturday morning a couple of “friends” came by to play a little pick-up soccer.  (I use quotations because at this point I don’t speak enough Chinese to hear what they say about me, or enough to give them any idea of what I am actually like to make that sort of judgment if we are indeed friends.)  It was nice to get some exercise and just have some human interaction despite the tribulations of a significant language barrier.  I NEED to learn Chinese!  After soccer I went to my apartment to change to go to lunch.  At precisely the same time I closed the door and lock it, I remembered I may need my keys.  Blarg!  Thank goodness Wei Zida came to the rescue and unlocked my door for me while I was out to lunch with the soccer team.  The evening was spent alone so I decided to go to my favorite barbeque stand for some grub and a beer.  While eating, a man at the adjacent shop decided his work could wait as the tentacle-headed monster was sitting across from him.  After pacing back and forth for a little while steeling quick glances and a smirk, his legs began to wane and so a chair was adjusted to directly face me to watch the show. Strange, yeah, but it was funny as well and I could have cared less at that point. I was relieved moments later when Wei Zida’s son walked passed and invited me to come have a drink with him and his friend when I was done.  Around the corner was a trendy bar with two guys strumming some jazz that provided a pleasant atmosphere to sip our watermelon juice.  His cute friend also added to the atmosphere.  Despite few English skills, she was able to tell me I had a nice smile and I returned the compliment.  We exchanged numbers so that if I come to Beijing where she studies I can call her.  Next stop Bejing!  No, just kidding, that’s like going from Denver to NYC, not exactly a weekend excursion.

Sunday I was awaken with a call from my Chinese tutor who was ready to teach.  Although she was already at the school I had to stall so I could rinse off and tidy up the flat.  Our first lesson went well, but I have a LONG way to go if I ever hope to be understood, let alone have a small conversation.  Someone once told me French was easy for an English speaker as there are so many words that are the same or similar.  I refuted this statement and said that it was still very difficult.  I now refute that and I probably owe an apology.  I will never say Chinese is easy.  The Middle Kingdoms language does contain certain aspects that are simple: lack of plurality, barely a past tense, but it’s those tones, those damned tones.  Most of the lesson was spent on tones.  With the lesson commencing near the lunch hour, Luo Man, my tutor, invited me to lunch at her parent’s house.  It was a welcome invitation as any chance to interact is high on my list of to do’s.

That evening I met with one of my soccer mates for dinner and along with us came a girl whose boyfriend is from California.  She put me on the phone with him and we discussed teaching in China.  He is 25 years old and has been in China a number of years and has since opened two schools in Sichuan.  He was disappointed to learn I had just arrived, because only a month ago he was looking for someone for his school that pays double to what I am making.  It would have been nice to have an American boss, but I am in an incredible situation and would have a tough time changing it for a few hundred bucks.

Monday’s classes did not go well.  I decided to try to be more focused and expand on a single topic rather than jumping around simple dialogues.  This was not a good idea.  I used the days of the week as my base and tried to expand on them with asking question such as “What was the day before yesterday?” and “What days do you have English class?”.  If I read the questions with the class they were great.  However, when I tried to listen to two individuals practice the dialogue written on the board, they froze.  Only a few actually tried, while most responded with the now all too familiar, bu hui, I can’t.  After trying positive encouragement and holding their hand through each sentence I became frustrated.  So, in my awful Chinese I tried to light a little fire under their…  I said, Yaoshi nimen xihuan shuo Yingwen, nimen dei shuo hen duo.  Wo bu shuo zhongwen, keshi wo zhen xihuan hui shuo zhongwen, suoyi wo shuo hen duo!. “If you want to speak English, you must speak a lot.  I don’t speak Chinese, but I really want to learn to speak Chinese, so I speak a lot.”  You can imagine how much that helped…  A few giggles and a few “deer in the headlights.”  It was in this same class that I had my advisor, Wei Zida taking notes.  I was utterly embarrassed to have him witness my failed attempts to teach a few simple phrases.  After class Wei gave me a few pointers that I think will help.  He explained my sentences were too long and that the tongue twisters I was using were losing the students because they didn’t understand why they were doing them.  He gave me the Chinese word for tongue twister along with some other tips so I feel next class will go a bit smoother, or so I hope.

I put off a run this morning as I convinced myself my stomach wasn’t quite settled enough to go for a run and that I had only a short amount of time before my Chinese lesson.  I did however drag myself to the streets of Jishou for a run this evening.  I ran about 5 miles, and it was plenty for me after having only gone running once in the last 3 weeks.  Have you ever gone for a run and smoked a pack of cigarettes during the whole thing?  While not physically having a square clenched between my lips, the exhaust from the trucks and dust being lifted by the tires were enough to make it difficult to achieve a deep breath.  The coal in the air also forms a nice barrier for the oxygen tirelessly working to touch the air sacs in the lungs.  The blackened bottoms of my shoes display the evidence of the coal molecules who lost their strength to fly and have settled into the pavement.  Jishou in fact is not a dirty city in my eyes, and is actually quite lovely.  Howeve,r when you are a country doing its best to catch up to a world that forces you to be on the top or be squished on the bottom, any means necessary is the mode d’emploi.  I am not training for any races at this point, but in the near future, before it becomes too cold, I do hope to run the 25 km to the Miao village for a weekend stay to sit and contemplate life, and maybe even find my wife before running home again.