Choices and Decisions

Having successfully received and sent back my US voting documents October 26, I’m sipping a fresh kiwi-orange smoothie, celebrating a new blender and my country where each citizen has a say in electing leaders. China’s 1.3 billion population doesn’t have that privilege, according to my 20-something co-teachers, who pored over my ballot and asked dozens of questions. Ella, ‘English teacher’ who’s gradually getting away from speaking Chinese to our nine kindergartners, and Shirley, Chinese teacher who has them reciting at the tops of their voices, meet me weekly to trade English-for-Chinese help. They’re regulars in our new Wednesday night English Corner too, eager to improve their English as long as other Chinese-only speakers don’t laugh at them. We played the game ‘Duck, Duck Goose’ while learning short-u sounds today, and the teachers chased around the circle with as much exubrance as the kids. 
 
I returned from Xian full of gratitude for the red carpet rolled out for us distinguished guests. They couldn’t control the soggy weather that threatened the top notch programming that followed Saturday’s 80th anniversary ceremonies. Battery-operated technology allowed speakers, microphones, and cameras to continue while pretty girls held orange-and-black  umbrellas over our 150 heads. Pei Hua’s 35,000 students toughed it out on army camp stools in drizzle for at least two hours. Not since the Olympics had I seen or heard such talented dancing, singing and playing. To top it off, Foreign Affairs helper gave me China Mobile’s gift umbrella to introduce Halloween colors to Sanya!
 
      Fully moved into my fourth floor apartment, I’m getting on-average one new appliance or piece of furniture daily. Venes came for soup we cooked on the new hotplate, Saturday; handyman Li has all faucets working and we’re hopeful for the washer hook-up tomorrow. I’m using my own laptop, connected to broadband just last night via my new phone (8863.0080 has enough eights to be considered a ‘lucky number’ ); I’ve a rice cooker and a wok for weekends when there are no meals served at Golden Sun Kindergarten. Tonight’s fare was fresh shrimp and bok choi with rice.
 
     Our neighborhood complex of six-story concrete boxes’ inhabitants congregated near the gate with gongs, horns, and drums last evening for a rousing celebration of a 75-year-old man’s death. Folks ate, played cards, and visited throughout the night. My 7:00 a.m. Tai Chi group, reduced to three who didn’t participate in the funeral, moved our practice to a clearing under a banyon a respectful distance from the mourners. Their all-night vigil was rewarded by rosy apples and thick rounds of cheese piled on tables as I walked to Golden Sun’s hot coconut milk and baozi (steamed, filled buns) breakfast. I had finished morning English class when firecrackers marked the end of the funeral gathering. I logged on to Google to discover China’s population clock ticking off 33 million births and 16 million deaths since 2008 came as a New Year’s baby.  I’m living among 1/5 of the 6 million world population, considering myself lucky to be here, gleaning what I can from your e-mails and internet newspapers about the economy and upcoming election.
 
      On this side of the world, we’ve weathered our first crisis. Helen got a call while we were registering my residency with the police. ‘Terrible! A teacher (teaches Chinese to three year olds) hit a kid.’ It was  in the class of 18 where I’m working with the confused English co-teacher on setting up and following a lesson plan. Helen spent the evening with the mother and child who gaily skipped around them, telling me she ’solved the problem; I will refund one month’s payment and take the mother to dinner. She insisted on an x-ray, although the child said it wasn’t necessary.’ Helen’s thinking what she should do beyond the Chinese teacher saying, ‘Sorry’ to the parent (striking children is unlawful here, but parents seem to be exempt from that law). The school takes a strong stand, thank goodness!
 
     It’s off to the beach after I teach ‘over/under/next to’ in English concepts today. Parents attend an all-day Open House tomorrow; for me, it may be business as usual. I often look up to see observers sitting in during my class activities. They’re glued to the repetitive ‘teaching,’ fade away when I start child-centered activities, but the kids are showing their individual smarts and personalities as they cut/paste/dictate/tie and–soon–make a neighborhood out of the sandbox. I’m sick of my name because it’s the greeting/call for attention they say repeatedly at the top of their lungs. Discourse comes later, I hope!

Xian trip Oct 19

I flew to Xian October 19 to celebrate Pei Hua University’s eighty years as a private school, hoping I might reconnect with a few students I remembered. Saturday’s skies were amazingly blue with fluffy clouds, something I seldom saw when there in 2006 as the “only foreign teacher” (two Japanese teachers, then, didn’t count?). A car and driver brought two Foreign Affairs workers to greet me, deposit me at five-star Shaanxi Hotel, and see to my comforts as a “distinguished guest” until I begged off in the afternoon. I found a bus to city center, had a Starbuck’s Americana, revisited the Muslim market for lively bargaining, and met Kansas Citians Ann and Tooey Miller for dinner. It was heaven to speak fluent English without simplifying or watching whether my comments were politically correct. We talked for several hours about our kids, their jobs at NW University, the upcoming US election and economic scene.
      Sunday morning’s ceremony at the new Pei Hua campus open area found 30,000 students sitting on army camp stools below the platform where I was ushered to the third row (of eight) by lovely girls in suits and heels reminiscent of the 60’s stewardess attire. They kept our 150 tea cups full, washcloths handy, along with plying us with fruit while the president, ancient graduates, and party officials gave lengthy speeches. At one point, colored fireworks filled the sky with green/pink/purple clouds; the noise brought black birds from the Education Building eaves, as if on cue against the colorful clouds. After two hours, we were ushered down to chairs and they held umbrellas over us as a fantastic program emerged in the drizzle: bubbles and flames during an avant garde fashion show, a live band, acrobats, costumed dancers, European opera, pop singers, and dramatic reading went on for two more hours. Foreign Affairs Department took us by van to Chaing Kai Chek’s villa for a sumptious lunch, and the current Japanese teacher, English teacher (from Michigan), graduate fellow from Bavaria, and Ed Johnson (friend of the director and everyone else he met) pled “tired” and didn’t return for the afternoon and evening programming–more singing, dancing performances.
     They took me to Metro Shopping Center to buy canned tuna and dark chocolate, Western products I haven’t found in Sanya. William Bai, Xian friend and ex-co-teacher, brought my return air ticket and discussed the world economic scene that evening. He was delighted to get Lenin’s Private War, a book I recently enjoyed. Sunday morning, I met the newly-retired English dean, “Joe,” for mutton noodles at the old campus where I lived for nine months. He brought pomegranates and kiwi, local fruits and insisted I sign my gift: Peter Hessler’s Oracle Bones. He’ll pore over it for months, I think. At 60, he’s working parttime teaching English at a small college and has just passed three of four tests to teach English abroad. He seemed cheerful at having retired. His wife’s mother is in a wheelchair, so he doubts he’ll realize his dream to teach in America. 
     Boss Helen was at the Sanya airport to pick me up, pleased that my insurance card had arrived. A post office remittance for some editing I had done for an AIDS publication in Kunming also arrived, so she took me shopping after I taught this morning. We’re preparing lessons (with all English-speaking teachers giving critiques) for an Open Day with parents invited October 31 for all classes. Our newly-started English Corner seemed a success with first meeting last week; we had nine teachers and one person from the community. Next meeting’s topic is “Suitable Jobs” and I’ve no doubt they will prepare with much written memorization. I’m a “foreign expert” here, seen as friendly. It’s nice to be appreciated by old friends like Pei Hua and new ones like the young teachers at Golden Sun Kindergarten.

Home Away From Home

Golden-sun-kids

     I spent two days getting into my fourth floor apartment, just steps from the Golden Sun Kindergarten’s side gate that’s double-locked at night (one key with our resident quarters guard, a different key kept by Mr. Li, our caretaker and my new best friend). A half dozen student teachers had camped out in the three bedrooms with no workable faucets except in the cold shower, no cleaning supplies, and no incentive to clear out their plastic bottles, mosquito coils, toothbrushes, and trash. My chin was on the grimy floor when I made it up four flights of stairs splattered with dust, stain, and suspicious red stains in the corner of landings (I suspect beetle nut juice, a habit of many unfortunates here). I resolved to use mop water one-flight-at-a-time until I can enjoy walking up and down them.
 
     Helen proudly told me the new fridge, washer, TV, and A/C were being delivered. I said I’d like to clean it first; she sent the woman who keeps the school clean, and we swept, mopped, and hauled out trash for three hours. It reminded me of a Montana trailer house I cleaned after some migrant workers abandoned it, but there was no stove with hardening leftover food.
By evening, the squattie-potty was spotless, the tile floor shone and Mr. Li puzzled his way through broken plumbing, inoperable plug-ins and light fixtures. We cheered and basked in air conditioned comfort after four straight days of humid rain. By the time I brought my suitcases from the hotel, Mr. Li had the water purifier humming, the fridge level, and the paper (?) clothes closet put together. Helen bought a tea kettle, hot plate, bedding, table and chairs, utinsels, dishes, and a TV stand. It’s a treat to have so many new items, not to mention a considerable savings for me if I had bought them myself.

      I’ve three bedrooms, two beds, and sparse furnishings with a scenic calendar on the wall. Grandkids’ pictures go up tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’m going Saturday-Monday to Xian, where the first private university–Pei Hua–where I taught is celebrating 30 years. In addition to moving, at least two hours each day has been with students like these (four-five years). This picture is as still and quiet as I’ve ever seen them! I’m trading English for Chinese lessons with two co-teachers weekly, observing English teachers and “helping them” with their pronunciation and methodology, and eating Chinese food for free thrice daily. Venes, with whom I showed “P.S. I Love You” video and will co-start Friday night’s English Corner for the neighborhood, went with me for pizza last night to celebrate getting through the week. We all deserve a medal or at least a “tai hao!” (“very good”).

Hainan Island

Hi from lovely Hainan Island! After knee-deep running water in the street by my hotel yesterday (Typhoon Higos), it dawned sunny and clean today . I was forced to borrow an umbrella from the lobby and make do with the one noodle shop that looked palatable for two days’ running. The first day, I ordered “dark chicken meat noodles” and got bok choi, rice noodles, and black chicken’s feet! Yesterday, the beef noodle selection was actually quite good. Market’s just down the street on my side with persimmons, tiny sweet bananas, other tropical fruits. They feed me weekdays at Golden Sun Kdgn, if I choose to partake heavily of rice. Congee (porridge) and manta were tasty this a.m. Rice/cucumber/pork(?)/soybeans were good at noon, with a clear soup as a chaser. I’ll seek out the good Western-influenced Cannes Flavor Restaurant near Sanya Beach for supper, I think. They’ve Thai, Italian, Chinese, American, and decent prices, all served on white tablecloths by girls in long red skirts or short French maids’ outfits. Come while away a sunset over South China Sea and eat their two-berry ice cream with a good coffee on the side!
 
My first Golden Sun kindergarten class seems to have gone well–counting and “how many more?” concepts with games, a story, a song, and seatwork (actually boardwork for three guys who forgot to return their workbooks). SmartKids is the name of the curricula; it combines phonics, math, and social studies with lots of suggestions. My assistants speak (m)eager English; my Chinese is even less than their prowess in English. We’ll teach each other. The kids? Eight in number, with six of them boys. Three very bright, three average, and two slow, I’m guessing by their responses today. The most verbal is the chubbiest. They yell their answers in unison; we’re playing a “loud” and “soft” game with good old Western competition for which team gets the most right answers tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll go deaf from the noise in a well-meaning class of youngsters.

I’ve not seen Helen, my boss, yet. My laptop can’t access either school or hotel hook-ups, but I may learn more tricks, just as I figured out how to send English e-mail on this “all Chinese” computer.