Wrong Side of the Desk

A student, leading Mafia as the storyteller, in English. :')

After teaching for two years, going back as a student is weird. I miss my students, I miss my classrooms, I miss drafting semester plans with little school oversight and coming up with goals and assessments and practice games and mindbending questions. I miss my Hunan students' pride when they finally got how to write solid thesis statements, and my own pride when most of them delivered solid persuasive speeches. I miss my Harbin mechanical engineers and the warmth and supportive spirit that pervaded their classroom, even when some back-row prankster slipped a Japanese porn star's name into our "famous person" impromptu speech topic bank... my sweetest male student got it and spent most of his minute laughing, after choking out a few pithy sentences that got the class giggling hysterically. I miss our two weeks of English-language Mafia games during finals season. I miss our several actually interesting discussions, about obesity, about the environment, about ways to limit chopstick and water-bottle waste on campus.

To be totally fair, teaching also kind of sucked, when class sizes and student ability ranges were huge, when I wasn't allowed to fail anyone so students had little extrinsic motivation to try, when I had to leave the house at 6:30am and finally got home eleven hours later, when helicopter parents went off on my students and me during class... but all of that fades pretty quickly. Selective memory. The kids were ridiculous sometimes too, and there were tears and rants and repetitive complaints on my part.

But I miss it anyway, and sometimes I fool myself that teaching would be better in the public school system in America. Oh, I know it won't. China hardly has a monopoly on bureaucracy and pointlessness. But either way, I'm sure my first day back on the right (wrong?) side of the teacher's desk will be a little disorienting.

Leaving Soon!

In case you were wondering what packing clothes for a full of year of sweltering-to-damply-frigid-without-central-heating looks like, here it is:

I could make comfortable do with half, but where's the fun in that?

And just look at all the warm! Hunan's winter really did me in when I was there... after nursing a cold for over a month, just for it to go away after a 24 hour long train ride because I'd arrived in magical, dry, centrally-heated Xi'an, I've learned my lesson. Two coats, wool tights, warm wintery tops, and cozy, layerable cardigans... hopefully these will keep me from playing host to millions of viruses and their degenerate offspring!

As a side note, about 3/4 of the stuff up there was bought at thrift stores or was given to me as a hand-me-down (excluding the underwear and tights, duh)! Aaaand I'm kind of proud of that. Not only does it save me my precious pennies, but I can get things like cashmere and silk (warm!! I have one of each) for the price of a plain cotton tee from Forever 21. It just takes patience and good judgement, and if something does wear out, I can ditch it guilt-free for extra packing space. Win win win!

Joining the ranks of the Three

I'm shocked. Perhaps the world is truly ending. The Chinese consulate is actually following all the rules^[1]. TO THE LETTER. Is this seriously the right consulate??!

Didn't expect myself to slim down that stickfigurey.

Getting turned away at the visa window sucks. Getting turned away because this particular consulate won't accept the copies that two other consulates apparently took... really sucks. Sucks even more for number A005, who sat in line for an hour that morning so as not to end up A095, and got up at 5:30am and got on a train still in the dark, and who has to do this whole dance all over again in two days... I'm a zombie, okay, let me sleep it off and then console me with coffee.

In other news, our support office is really well-run and efficient, I can't blame the Chinese university because originals cost a-bottle-of-Maotai-and-a-favor to replace, and it looks like I'll get my visa before I board my plane, so no skin off anyone's big nose, really.

[1] For my visa, at least.

Crowded, or Why Am I Even Here?

All pictures taken in Harbin markets.

A Chinese student told me that Chinese people didn't think twice about cramming animals together in unhealthy and unpleasant conditions, because the humans are crammed just the same. Fair point, when you remember the four to eight person rooms and constant water outages in the dorm buildings. And fairer even, when you think about the worker dorms in factory towns.

Is it messed up to be more viscerally upset by a few trampled ducklings in an overcrowded aviary than by the abstract overcrowding in Chinese factories^[1] and cities? Is it messed up to feel my hackles rise and my stomach drop when I hear "China has too many people," the excuse and reason which bests all excuses and reasons, and to feel the leaden weight of that appraisal?

It's definitely a little messed up to want to help, as an outsider. Why China, when there's already overcrowding and hunger and a messed-up-just-for-me healthcare system back home? Why waste money on visas and plane tickets?

Still pondering that. There's definitely value in outside opinions, new ways of approaching problems that may not surface in a country where the education, media and traditional value experience is so standardized. Like it or not, there are generous people in America who want to give their money to people in China, and that money's power should be harnessed as efficiently as possible by a Sino-American liaison. And the international cooperation may prove valuable in unanticipated ways.

What do you think about international NGOs?

Anyway. I have a year of structured China study, a year to delve into politics and sociology and maybe even economics, and thankfully, nobody in China is going to let me forget exactly how foreign and white I am. So there's that.

Without further ado, let's meet some of the non-human individuals inhabiting tiny living spaces!

 

  

[1] Let's make it clear that I'm a total outsider. I've read a couple of books that discussed factory workers, talked to a few students about where they came from and where they're afraid they're headed, and shopped and photographed at many markets across the country. That's it.

Preview: What I'm In For

Weather in China feels more immediate than that in America. Air conditioning is a rare luxury, and central heating only exists north of the Yangtze River, making Harbin's Siberian winter easier to deal with than Hunan's moist chilliness. How does Nanjing's summer compare to those of Harbin and Hunan?

Well, Harbin is hot but fairly dry - evenings can get humid, but it only thunders once a week or so, and there's a breeze. It's not always ideal, but is absolutely bearable and the rain's kind of fun. Until it floods your street. Although that can still be fun.

Hunan summer.

Harbin summer.

Summer in Hunan is hairier - really hot, and REALLY wet. It rained almost every day. I woke up before dawn all June and July because it was simply too hot in my non-air-conditioned apartment... my students fell asleep in class, particularly after lunch, because they were running on even less sleep from being crammed four deep in their tiny dorms.

Guess which one Nanjing resembles?

It's a testament to my crazy, or maybe to my giddiness about my university and program, that I'm actually excited to leave behind cool breezes and clear blue skies and re-enter the muggy, godforsaken fray.