Dustin in China

test

2009-05-17T07:51:00.000-07:00

*posting test*

Testing a proxy server to see if I can get around the recent block of blogger.com by the CCP.

I've Moved

2008-12-16T15:54:00.000-08:00

I will be posting everything posting everything here.

http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/mychina/

My goal is to only post there from now on, but we'll see.

Sorry for any inconvenience.

Cheers!

Visiting Anshun

2008-12-15T07:17:00.000-08:00

Bethany, Bonnie, Dustin, ZhuKui

Bonnie (Country Directory) and ZhuKui (Program Manager) visited Anshun awhile back. We had a nice hike up the mountain behind the dormitories and then around the back of the school. The back gate, a single door, opens like clothes parting in a wardrobe, revealing overturned rice paddies covered with stacks of rice stalks and women picking heads of Chinese cabbage before the frost sets in.

They visited my apartment as well. "What are those?" Bonnie asks, pointing at some disfigured, withered plants that were there when I first moved in well over a year before. "Oh, those. Well, they are... an experiment?"

She looks with curiosity at my walls, and the pathetic hangings whose sole intention of covering the bleak, white, cracking walls is only too obvious. I use one wall for hanging things sent from home, including pictures, postcards, and little notes. The wall threatens to swallow this small display, and the two dead light bulbs in my 6-bulb 'chandelier' certainly don't add to the ambiance. "Where's your bathroom?" she asks, before heading through my kitchen and through the back hallway to take a look.

"I'm ready to go," she says, "but I need to get a picture of your soap sculpture first."

Please don't ask.

She nods towards my bicycle on the way out - another pitiful thing with the seat removed for hauling loads of wood and tires clearly flat from months of disuse. I almost felt like my apartment was some kind of extension of my volunteering skill; like the disorder was a manifestation of my ability and, therefore, my teaching would also be the same in her eyes: a broken down display of ineptitude.

But I'm sure she didn't think so.

Right?

A message from Peace Corps (China Staff)

2008-12-15T03:02:00.000-08:00

Holiday Greetings to All!

The Peace Corps Staff would like to wish all of you the very best during this holiday season. We thank you for being here, for your willingness to leave the comfort of life back in the U.S., and for the personal sacrifices that you have made to be a Volunteer in China.

It is a time for you to reflect on what you have experienced and accomplished during the time you have been here, the difference you have made in your life and the lives of your students and colleagues. Peace Corps can be exhilarating, frustrating, emotionally lifting and emotionally draining all at the same time. Our New Year's hopes and wishes for you are that you consider the amazing opportunities for you in China, savor the experience and continue to do your best for your benefit as well as those around you.

May you, your families and friends here in China and back home have a safe and pleasant holiday season.

Best wishes,
Peace Corps China Staff

Lecture in Zunyi

2008-12-14T06:57:00.000-08:00

I gave a lecture about being an individualist in a collectivist society at Zunyi Medical College in Zunyi (a city famous for being the place where a series of communist revolutionary meetings were held before Mao Zedong led his troops to defeat the Guomingdang). The students were interested to learn what kinds of things made me uncomfortable in China, especially when I explained which American values contributed to that discomfort.

The following is my reflection - sent to Peace Corps as per their request.

Part 3: Site Exchange Report

Note: This form should be completed by the Volunteer who agreed to participate in the exchange and submitted to the respective Program Manager within five days of completion of the site exchange trip. Electronic submissions are highly encouraged. Copies of any relevant outputs such as lesson plans should be attached. Photos are welcomed. Thank you!

Volunteer’s Name: Dustin D. Ooley

1. What organization and/or people did you visit?

Zunyi Medical College (students of Andrew Park and Kari Jefferson)

2. What were the positive aspects of your site exchange trip?

Open dialogue regarding the difficulties of an individualist in a collectivist society. Students learned how western teachers have individual differences, even if they share the same culture, helping them to better understand which characteristics of their foreign teachers are cultural and which are personal.

The chance to better understand student perspectives based on the kind of questions they asked. Students interested in various aspects of my experience had an opportunity to learn more. The next day several students ate lunch with Andrew and me, giving them another chance to ask questions.

I did not fall off the stage.

3. Lessons Learned/Recommendations for other Volunteers?

Don’t forget to have a camera.

Plan everything – even the little things.

Speak some Chinese – they love it.

Little Injustices

2008-12-14T05:55:00.000-08:00

Usually traveling is both fun and informative. Trains are the perfect place for conversation due to the family-style seating arrangement and the freedom to walk around. I have had some of my most in-depth conversations on trains, transcending the basic questions like, "How old are you?" and "How much money do you make?"

Sometimes travel can be more cumbersome. Sometimes the people are less willing to talk, due to shyness or lack of interest. Today's trip back from Zunyi was like this; I didn't say much more than "恩 (en4)," an affirmative response to the question from the train worker, "Are you going to Anshun?"

The people around me looked over my shoulder to see me reading my textbook (新使用汉语课本；五册）. Even a glance in this book should be enough for a Chinese person to realize that I can speak Chinese. In fact, it's typically a surprise for people that I can read Chinese even after speaking with them for several minutes. Speaking Chinese isn't nearly as difficult as reading (or writing) it in the eyes of a typical Chinese person.

I decided to go back and grab something to eat in the dining car and I walked several cars up, passing the typical stares and furtive elbow-jostlings friends give to one another as I walk by. "外国人 (wai4guo2ren2)" they whisper, "Outside Country Person." When I request a menu at the dining car the waitress happily hands one to me while 3 other train attendants sit at a table smoking and talking quietly. The rest of the car was empty. I sat down, opened the menu, and discovered why. Basic dishes were 4 or 5 times the regular price and I asked if they had egg fried rice. 没有。

"I'll just have those instant noodles," I said, giving the waitress 5 yuan and looking for the boiling water.

"It's outside," she said.

"Ok - I can just eat in here, right?" I said to be polite, not really to ask for permission - I was planning on coming back.

The waitress looked down at one of the train attendants, who was shaking her head.

"You're right, it's pretty crowded in here," I responded without thinking much. "What a strange rule," I added under my breath (again in Chinese). Just because I didn't order the expensive dishes they would let me sit in the dining room.

"Wait," another train attendant at the same table shouted to me as I was disappearing down the dining car corridor, "sit down - it's no problem." I had sufficiently upset them with my snide comments, and that was exactly the result I had intended.

I filled up my bowl of instant noodles at the boiling water container between cars and continued back to my seat through the same sea of whispers and stares. I sat down and hunched over my noodles, slurping them down in several minutes.

When I left the train station after arriving in Anshun, I looked for a cab driver and asked how much to go to the college. "20," he said, and I continued on, shaking my head. "Let him go for 15, he's a teacher at the college," another cab driver said. The first driver yelled after me and said that 15 would be fine, so I turned and got in. Before we left the train station he shuffled a family of four in the back of the cab while I looked at him strangely. "Don't worry, it's on the way," he said. I was still skeptical.

We turned off the basic route back to the college, but not long after he let the family out and we continued on to the college. The family paid 5 yuan, so it was easy to do the math. That meant I owed 10 yuan now. Right?

There's a little trick the cab drivers like to pull in Guizhou. It's happened to me a few times in Anshun and Liupanshui. Drivers will pick up multiple people and force them to pay separate fares, rather than allowing them to share a cab. If you don't know the person, chances are you will have to pay a separate fare.

Once when coming back from a trip to Guiyang something similar happened. I got in after agreeing to 15 and the cabbie said we should wait for students who were also going to the college. "Wait or not, it doesn't matter to me," I said, "it's the same price either way." He looked hurt. And then I helped him recruit a student who got in the cab with us. "Hey, it's 5 yuan to go to the college," he said to the student. "No, it isn't," I cut him off. "Don't listen to him - it's only 15 and I'll take care of it." He looked back at me, "give me something!" he said desperately. "You will get 17, and that's all," I responded, being more generous than I should have been.

And so we dropped the family off and headed back to the campus. The driver tried to make small-talk but I didn't say much but cursory responses. I wasn't excited about getting to know him if I was going to have to shatter his illusion that he was going to get 20 yuan from the combined fares of the family and me. He was still getting 15.

And when we got to my apartment I handed him a 10. He looked confused and then cleared up the misunderstanding by explaining that it was 15. "Yeah, I know - that family gave 5 and I just gave you 10."

"That's not part of the fare," he said angrily, "you can't do that - impossible."

"Pay 20? THAT'S impossible," I responded, and began to get out of the cab.

He muttered a string of dialect that was followed by “老外 (lao3wai4)" another less polite word meaning foreigner. I'm glad I didn't understand everything he said, and I was happy that he didn't get away with double-charging. Many people just fold and give them money (even volunteers). I walked back up the 5 flights to my apartment, not doing much for China during my trip home - but certainly preserving some of my own values for the day.

Why we are here...?

2008-12-12T12:00:00.000-08:00

In a recent post, Phil has pointed to the extensive history of human rights violations in China, something that continues today. These violations include unlawful imprisonment and torture, which are condemned by both the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the Chinese Constitution. The issue remains very serious, despite the fact that Chinese people are freer now than they have ever been in their long, continuous 5000 years of history.

Of course, Phil would argue that the relative merits of the current government do not outweigh the continued unlawful imprisonment of critical, popular bloggers who, as we speak, are languishing in prisons for the words they wrote.

As an American I believe fiercely in my right to freedom of speech and freedom to make changes. What I’ve learned since coming to China, however, is that this is not my place. There are many reasons for this, and I would like to elaborate. Firstly, I am not currently under American law, but Chinese law. Although freedom of speech is guaranteed by the Chinese Constitution, another clause protecting the current government trumps that clause. Those who say that China doesn’t follow its own laws needs to analyze this problem and work to change it rather than merely making this statement.

Secondly, I am a Peace Corps Volunteer, sent to China by U.S. tax dollars and, though I am not a government employee, I have been assigned with 3 goals to accomplish as a volunteer.

The goals are (1) to help the country meet its need for trained people (which we do by teaching English students who will go on to become English teachers); (2) share American culture with the host country; and (3) learn about the culture of the host country in order to share that with Americans upon return to America.

According to these goals, I find little or no incentive to be outspoken about my beliefs regarding the government (though, in the past, I have certainly posted my share of information that could probably be used to gather a general idea of my feelings). Finding a reason to be more open with Chinese people about my feelings regarding the government would not help me to better accomplish my goals – even if you argue that this open, honest dialogue is indelibly a part of American culture and, therefore, should be a part of goal number 2. For me, however, the link is too tenuous for serious consideration.

Another reason I don’t rush into a healthy criticism of the government is related to how much the issues have been twisted by both sides. Most Americans still think the Embassy bombing in Yugoslavia was unintentional, or they have forgotten about it entirely. Chinese scholars contend that Tibet has been part of China throughout the Ming Dynasty, while scholars just about everywhere else argue that it’s untrue. Young, ultra-liberal westerners jump on the “free Tibet” bandwagon without understanding the arguments made by China. The same is true of other issues that rarely find themselves brought up in conversations in my part of China.

Again, my feelings on these issues are strong, and I have a large supply of emotion that will likely pour out when I return to America. Perhaps one day I will look back and wish I said more, expressed my opinions more freely, and tried to make some political change. But then, would I be any different than those wishing to spread their faith?

I enjoy Phil’s blog immensely and frankly, I’m happy he is taking a different stance than me. It gives us something to discuss.

Peace,
-d

December is Human Rights Month

2008-12-11T17:34:00.001-08:00

Did you know that December is Human Rights month?

Competition or Cooperation?

2008-12-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

(taken from
THE VALUES AMERICANS LIVE BY
by L. Robert Kohls)

The following is one of 13 values outlined by the Washington International Center in 1984. It was meant to be a guide to help foreign visitors better understand Americans, and it has been valuable in helping me to be more aware of my own values while I live in a country that is so different.

"7. Competition and Free Enterprise

Americans believe that competition brings out the best in any individual. They assert that it challenges or forces each person to produce the very best that is humanly possible. Consequently, the foreign visitor will see competition being fostered in the American home and in the American classroom, even on the youngest age levels. Very young children, for instance, are encouraged to answer questions for which their classmates do not know the answers.

You may find the competitive value disagreeable, especially if you come from a society [that] promotes cooperation rather than competition. But many U.S. Peace Corps volunteers teaching in Third World countries found the lack of competitiveness in a classroom situation equally distressing. They soon learned that what they had thought to be one of the universal human characteristics represented only a peculiarly American (or Western) value.

Americans feel very strongly that a highly competitive economy will bring out the best in its people and ultimately, that the society which fosters competition will progress most rapidly. If you look for it, you will see evidence in all areas -even in fields as diverse as medicine, the arts, education, and sports -that free enterprise is the approach most often preferred in America."

In the same spirit of competition Phil and I have begun an informal battle of the blogs. First prize is merely the chance to avoid the shame of being second place. Our battle will be fought both tactically and strategically, with each side employing a large staff who will carry out such tasks as monitoring the opponent’s blog or analyzing results from the highly scientific surveys included on the task-bar.

Recently our people sent his people an envelope wishing him luck. The envelope was laced with a virus whose only side-effect is an extreme reluctance to post blogs. We will inform you of updates as we receive them.

The Ooley campaign needs your help, and accepts suggestions on techniques, tactics, or strategies 24-hours-a-day. If you have an idea for a story, please submit it asap via dustinooleyinchina@gmail.com or click the comments link below for anonymity (really – you can suggest anything!).

Cheers!

Hot Seat

2008-12-10T17:25:00.000-08:00

In our Oral English class we tried an activity that I found on the Internet at Dave's ESL Cafe. Each student volunteered to sit in the hot seat (in the background misspelled as "hotseat") and be subjected to 5 questions by their classmates. Whether or not they had to answer the question I didn't say. As with many activities we do, I don't like to impose too many rules. Waiting to see how far it goes is usually more interesting, and I can always move things past awkward moments or even cancel the activity completely.

It took the students a few questions before they got the idea. When they really got going there was certainly a pattern to their questions.

What I found most interesting about the activity was how much their questions revealed their own culture and the individual who was in the hot seat. Questions that were often repeated:

"When will you get married?" (by far the most common).

"What kind of girls/boys do you find attractive?"

"What do you think of the girls/boys in our class?"

The last question is telling because it shows just how much students who know one another very well can still keep some of their true feelings hidden away. Overall their questions were about relationships - a reflection of a long history of Confucianism (don't tell them, though - they feel that they are far more modern than their parents).

I learned a lot about individuals but, more importantly, how the students in the class felt about certain people. Some of the questions were as follows:

"Do you think you're so cool?" (the class thinks he acts too cool).

"Do you have a bf? What do you like about boys?" etc. (she is very nervous and shy around boys).

"Is your duty to your family or your boyfriend?" (A girl who, in 2 years, will have to decide whether she returns home to her family or to the province from which her boyfriend came). Her answer, by the way, was an incredibly well-spoken balance that led to class applause.

A Trip to the Post Office

2008-12-09T20:50:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, on the way to the Post Office I saw this sign. I understood some of the words and the general meaning, but the exact meaning was elusive. I looked at my electronic dictionary. It's something like, "Societal order - everyone does their duty." These signs are nothing new in China, and were used with great success by Mao to convince people of... whatever. Capitalism is bad? Make a sign about it. It's one reason people will have certain convictions that might be without thought. They were told what to believe and then they create justification after the fact. It's similar to McCarthyism in the 1950s (and yes, we too had some pretty heavy propaganda in America at that time). In front of the sign are workers waiting for odd jobs (and playing cards in the meantime).

I mailed something to my parents.

Then I returned home to find these older men playing "Beat the Landlord," one of about 5 games that are very popular in China. This game is a combination of Skill and Luck, like most games the Chinese seem to favor (majiang, chess, and go are others). But like any game, money must be involved. The stakes were high (5 yuan per round), and the men slammed their cards down with an Alpha-confidence accompanied by a loud grunt.

I dropped my things off at my apartment and headed to the office for my office hours, meeting some students along the way who were cleaning the campus. If you didn't know already, that's how it works here. The classroom belongs to the students, so it's their job to keep it clean. The campus belongs to the students as well, who clean it on rotation. Each week the entire campus is cleaned by students, not a hired cleaning crew.

One of the students didn't understand why I was taking their photo for such a mundane event and I explained. "Oh," he said, "they wouldn't believe that we do this, so you are showing them."

"Exactly."

Chinese Names

2008-12-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

One interesting aspect of teaching students in rural Guizhou is that very few people enter the college English department with an English name. It falls on the foreign teacher to provide the students with a name - a task that I learned to pass on this year. Sure I had the opportunity to give names to students who are now my friends, making their names more special. But the process was dreadful.

"Sandy... what does it mean?" one student asks.

"Ummm..." I reply, dumbfounded. Actually, unless you ask me what my own name means, I have absolutely no idea about name origins or meanings. And I suspect, to some extent, neither does anyone else in America.

The back-story for Chinese names could probably go on forever (almost), but there are some general differences between Chinese and English names.

My brother's name in Chinese is 艾论，which probably means something like "handsome talker,"but, more importantly, phonetically represents my brother's name using Chinese characters (AiLun - Aron). It's not a perfect phonetic translation because there are many sounds in Chinese that don't exist in English and vice versa. This is the main reason people have accents: they approximate sounds they cannot say by using something close in their own language (Hence: Flied Lice).

So I'm standing there after class and the students have a barrage of questions: "Which English name means 'flower?'"

"Which English name sounds strong and also means clever?"

"What does 'Garth' mean?"

Again I respond:

"Ummm..."

To make it simple I will put it like this: Chinese names are much easier to understand because they are like Native American names. I don't mean that they are names about nature, but that they have a strong relationship with words that are used in everyday speech. An example would be the Native American name, "Running Bear." If we break these apart they will but used in everyday speech. 'Running' and 'bear'.

It's a little more difficult in English. For example: David.

Of course we have 'Dav,' which means ?, and 'id,' which is part of the subconscious.

You see my point? They are words that are derived from other languages and different traditions, rather than one long, continuous history. Sure we could trace 'David' back to Hebrew (and maybe farther than that), and we might even find the words represented by the name. But today it's not so easy - especially when the name is not your own.

Chinese names are broken into two parts: Family name and Given name (in that order). The family name is one character. The 3 most common Chinese family names are: 王 Wang (wong), 李 Li (lee), and 张 Zhang (jong). Tracing these names is probably similar to tracing English surnames, as these names are often related to where someone is from (I think).

Given names are simple, I think. Here are a couple names (family name included)

张美丽 (Zhang Beautiful)
王云超 (Wang Exceeds the Clouds)

The given names can often be broken apart to have meaning (云 means cloud), so it's no surprise when a Chinese student mistakenly takes us for name experts.

My Chinese name was taken from the phonetics of my surname, Ooley. In Chinese is is pronounced /ou lei/ and written 欧雷. My new "family" name is 欧，which means 'Europe,' and my new "given" name is 雷, or, 'thunder.' Though people don't typically combine their family name with their given name to understand the meaning, doing so with my name yields, "Thunder over Europe."

Russia beware.

Dreams from My Obama

2008-12-09T04:48:00.000-08:00

Every night I dream of Obama now. Most of the dreams are unrealistic scenes from home, where I hang out with Barack’s family. “Do you want a bagel?” I ask Barack as he enters the kitchen with the morning newspaper.

“Sure – would you toast it for me?” he replies.

“No problem.”

I still remember where I was when Obama announced, live, his intention to run for President in 2007. I was on the treadmill at the gym, and I scrambled to switch my headphones from my iPod to the miniature television attached to the machine. Part of the reason I remember so well is that I almost went off the back of the treadmill when switching the headphones.

It wasn’t long after that I began analyzing his voting record, scouring his history through Internet leads, and trying to learn more about the man who would eventually become our President. When he came to Seattle I bought a ticket and listened intently to a well-delivered, though policy-thin, speech. And to be honest, though I was likely to vote for Barack Obama, I hadn’t ruled out voting for Hillary Clinton.

It was about this time that something was happening in Washington D.C. that would change the next two years of my life. My Peace Corps application was finally complete and approved, and it had been passed on to the Peace Corps China official. I got a call and eventually accepted the invitation to serve in the People’s Republic of China.

The volunteers were much like my colleagues in Seattle: most of them were liberal, and most clung to some kind of idealism. We would have intense discussions about the relative merits of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, but favor eventually shifted to Obama. During these conversations you could always pick out the Republican: the quiet one on the other side of the room. Not long after, Obama won the nomination, and later, the election.

That’s when the dreams began, I think. You see, I’d always harbored some kind of grandiose idea that I would be a part of his cabinet. I’m 27, I have some wordly experience, and I have a decent education. Though I have just described a large portion of the U.S. population, I still felt that I was different somehow – worthy of making those important decisions or, at least, toasting a bagel just right.

Since the dreams began, every morning I wake up to disappointment. I am not in the White House, looking over Obama’s schedule and making last-minute changes, nor am I furiously typing a last-minute article that outlines the subtleties of U.S. – China misunderstandings at a societal level (to be stamped and approved by you-know-who before it is published under his name).

Throughout the campaign I badgered the people in his country-wide election offices, offering to help with the campaign. “Even though I am in China, I could still do something… right?” I never heard back.

Part of my thinking was encouraged by the constant emails from the Obama campaign. With the ability to insert my name in the mass email, the Obama people made me feel special - like they were sending me an important email. It sounded to me like, "Listen, Dustin, we couldn't reach you by cell phone. Would you ask the other volunteers which states they're from? We also need some information about the rural Chinese perspective - what exactly do rural Chinese have to say about Obama? Thanks."

But, of course, these emails were more like, "Dustin - if you give 50 dollars today, we'll send you a t-shirt."

So I wake up and here I am: China. I am thriving here now, but getting caught up in this grandiose thinking always leads to disappointment. During the last days of the general campaign, there was an email that said giving a donation now would automatically enter you in a drawing to have dinner with Obama. I immediately sent 20 dollars, about 1 percent of my annual income. The response was a phone call from America, asking if I could help do some last-minute doorbelling. “Sorry,” I said, obviously upset. “I’m in China.”

I haven’t thought of any solutions to this constant dreaming of Obama. How does one control one’s own dreams?

I guess, for now, I’ll have to make the most of my Sunday afternoons with the Obama family. “Come on,” I say to his daughters, “let’s go grab some ice-cream.” Michelle and Barack look on with smiling faces, not thinking that it’s weird at all.

Peace Corps China Blogosphere

2008-12-08T17:28:00.001-08:00

The blogosphere remains quite small amongst volunteers, but I wanted to point out an interesting blog by Phil Razem, a Chongqing volunteer. Phil's school has around 55,000 students compared with my 5,000 and he lives in a city with millions and millions of people (compared with around 300,000).

Phil's blog is written with a different style and he has some clear goals related to informing people about cultural differences. I have enjoyed reading his blog, if only to get a different perspective of life and teaching in China.

Phil (the handsome guy you see running on the Great Wall in the above picture) and I have an ongoing blog battle where we see who will post more often (don't tell him - he doesn't know about this yet). It's hardly fair, as the content of his blogs is rich and offers links to other places. I am lucky to write enough letters to make up a word, let alone a sentence or paragraph.

Check it out - I think you'll like it.

***UPDATE***
Phil has accepted the challenge.

Power Out

2008-12-08T17:16:00.001-08:00

One would think I'd grown tired of talking about power outages. I'm relatively lucky, considering I only lose power about once a month during the winter. I'm not altogether unprepared, either. I have stockpiles of candles and matches, a host of battery powered electronics, and shelves of books.

It's not a problem of heat, either. I'm accustomed to 50 degrees inside - just wear warm clothes.

Part of the issue is that it remains unexpected. From a certain perspective it's a gift. I have to be more creative when planning out my day. In the morning I can only wash my face and feet - the water's too cold for a complete shower. The water for my coffee is heated in a stir-fry pan over my gas heater. I can even blast music in my apartment with my iPod's accompanying speakers (5-hour battery life!).

This last outage was only 24 hours. I can't explain the strange feeling when walking back to my apartment building, looking up to my 5th floor window, and seeing the lights on inside.

The moment the power goes out I emit a flicker of panic. Immediately I categorize the location of candles, matches, a thick winter coat and the Nepalese "Everest" hat to keep my head warm. These are easy to find - and when I settle down to study Chinese the panic subsides. Especially when I realize that I'm perfectly warm and comfortable studying by candlelight.

Debates

2008-12-05T06:34:00.001-08:00

When I first planned to have a debate in class, I was a little worried about the topic. I knew there were things that were controversial, but whether they were appropriate topics or taboo was uncertain. This problem was solved by asking my students to pick a topic. After a painful 15 minute brainstorming session, the topic was decided by the class: "Which is more important - process or result?"

"Really?" I asked them. "You can talk about that for an hour?" I hung my head as I erased death penalty and abortion from the blackboard - two topics that are sure to ignite fiery debate (especially in a college classroom).

So I was skeptical. Who wouldn't be? Process vs. Result?

It was easily one of my best classes. The students were brilliant and used very creative debating techniques, such as asking the opponents a question and attacking the logic of their answer. Only one ad-hom was used, and I wrote it on the board as an example to prevent it from continuing.

One of my favorite exchanges was between a young man and woman:

Young man: I know myself, so I know that's not true for me.
Young woman: How can you know yourself? You say...
Young man: [cutting her off] I know myself because I am myself!

The energy during the debate was exceeded only by the decompression afterward. The students spoke together in small groups for around 15 minutes about the debate. I found myself staring with awe as the students ran the class. I was unnecessary.

"Finally," I thought, after fighting the notion of the teacher-centered classroom for over a year. "They're getting it."

On Arrogance

2008-12-05T06:14:00.000-08:00

Since coming to China I have become a different person. Although there are many factors that contributed to the changes, one of the most distinct was my need to look at things differently. This resulted in a need to be more hesitant about forming opinions. It has also led to intense reflection and contemplation. Even if I know little about this deep culture and its people, I am honest with myself (and with all of you). Honest reflection and slowing judgment have helped me to adapt in a culture where a ‘no’ might mean ‘maybe’ or a ‘yes’ might really be a ‘no way.’

During my first year, if there was frustration aside from student propensity to be indirect, it would be the lack of praise. I’m fairly average, so I don’t expect people to shower me with undeserved praise. In fact, I don’t think praise should be given unless it is earned fairly through hard work or unique talent. This talk about praise likely seems a little strange. I mean, really, what’s the big deal?

Let me ask another question: Can you imagine what life would be like with no praise? Mark Twain once said that he could live a month on a good compliment, but how long do we go in our daily lives without receiving some kind of reinforcement for the little and big things that we do? What if I were to tell you I have been generally “praised” but students fewer than 5 times since arriving in China?

Part of this is language, but most of it is cultural. The students have no idea how much our culture is based on a certain level of genuine praise, probably because they are so focused on doing their duty. That’s what I am doing, in their eyes: my duty. If I fulfill that duty, that is its own reward – right?

Triandis (1995) says that
“[Individualists] have an unusually good opinion of themselves and have a need to express their high self-esteem. Their apparent arrogance is a reflection of the culture.”

I think we have a need to be recognized for what we do, even if that recognition comes in the form of only a few kind words.

I didn't much think of this issue until I tried to think of how my students saw me as a teacher. Did they like me? Did they enjoy my class? I had almost no idea.

When studying Chinese with my students last year, we came across the word 傲慢，which translates as “haughty,” or “arrogant.” I jokingly said, “有时我一点傲慢,”or, “Sometimes I am a bit arrogant.” One of my students immediately replied in English, “Yes, you are,” with a tone of sincerity and a laugh that was a little too uncomfortable to overlook. She was serious.

I have often wondered what goes through the students’ brains in my classes and what they think of my teaching. This vague image has changed very little since I first arrived. My cloudy understanding of student perception is also tied to the differences in language and culture.

The small amount of information I have about my students is through a filtered network of gossip that began after I gave a lecture about Special Education in America. Students began to talk about how I taught young children with behavior disabilities in America, and that, therefore, I taught my Chinese students in the same way. The viciousness and unrelenting force of rumors like these make China a dangerous place to make mistakes. Say one bad word in class and you like to swear. Make one mistake and you are incompetent. Once again ‘face’ rears its ugly…head?

I never tried to look down on my students. Asserting that my students and I were the same, separated by culture, I found a place for my thoughts to grow. But the daily grind of English classes leaves an interminable trail of broken sentence structures, forgotten grammar, over generalized Chinglish, and improperly memorized proverbs that leave them sounding like a kindergarten student trapped in a young adult’s body.

I don’t doubt that I have seemed arrogant to them. Nor do I doubt that an independent American observer would give me a long list of small things that I do to slightly alienate or damage relationships with my students. My reasons for accepting that these conditions exist is not because I can think back and remember any, but because listening to broken, poor English day after day changes your perceptions about people. I never did this consciously, nor do I know the extent of my failure to treat people as equals.

Mr. Yang said something in an interview that made me reflect on my own battle against the dangerous notion of superiority:

“I don’t know how to put it. Sometimes I’m very modest. Sometimes I’m so proud – I think I’m the only intelligent guy in this department. That’s stupid, I know! The important lesson is that you may think you are very intelligent, but sometimes people around you are more intelligent than you. The only reason you find yourself intelligent is that you didn’t even cast your eyes on them – you didn’t pay attention to them.”

Though I am not much wiser since coming to China, I am certainly more careful about certain things. Too many times I have cared too much what others think of my classes or me. There is a healthy level of forgetting and moving on that everyone needs to foster when they live here. It’s a lot like getting a sense of humor, and just as painful at first.

When I look back on this experience in the future, and reflect how it has changed me, the Chinese lessons, culture shocks, failures, and successes will not compare with this new longing for honest reflection.

Triandis, H.C. (1995). Individualism and Collectivism (p.158). Westview Press: Boulder.

2008-12-04T17:32:00.000-08:00

From: 安顺欧雷 (Dustin)
Date: Tue, 25 Nov 2008 03:14:04 -0800 (PST)
Local: Tues, Nov 25 2008 7:14 pm
Subject: Are people reading my emails?
I am a Peace Corps volunteer in China (PRC). I get the feeling that
people are reading my emails. One of my friends here was later
questioned about something that she only wrote in email (did not
mention aloud).

Are my emails being read by someone?

What is google's policy with China (is there a PDF that outlines this
policy)?

***RESPONSE***
Date: Tue, 25 Nov 2008 14:08:06 -0800 (PST)
Local: Wed, Nov 26 2008 6:08 am
Subject: Re: Are people reading my emails?
It is likely. I began a Google search using 'Google policy China' for
keywords. I found a couple articles but they were from over 2 years
ago.

Probably the best resource is here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_censorship_in_the_People%27s_Re...

I hope that is a little bit of help.

***MY REACTION***
I attempted to search this website but it was blocked. Blah. The GFoC has struck again.

Despite post-Olympic expansion of Internet freedom, there are still many websites blocked by the "anihC fo llaweriF taerG" (GFoC).

Though Wikipedia is open, specific articles within the website are still blocked.

GRE

2008-12-04T16:55:00.000-08:00

Anyone who has taken the SAT, GRE, LSAT, MCAT, etc. knows how strict test admin can be. Read this story to see a different experience.

Game Club

2008-12-04T07:12:00.000-08:00

Mr. Yang (short interview)

2008-12-04T06:51:00.000-08:00

Explosion (update)

2008-12-03T05:41:00.000-08:00

I interviewed some students about the incident and, though I heard nothing about mental problems, the students did mention that the boy and girl have not liked each other for quite some time. The fight itself began as follows:

"This is an American map," I said as I was trying to illustrate regional dialects.
"American MAP," the boy said, with a strange pronunciation of "map."
"American MAP," the girl said, imitating him.
"Don't copy me...!" responded the boy.

I don't know any of the words that came next, but they were certainly not kind.

I should explain my feelings a little more clearly, as my original post (below) seems to dwell on my anger. It is true that I felt angry with the students, especially since they were disrespecting my classroom. But my deeper feeling, the one I didn't share with them, was sadness. When harmony is breached there seems to be no limit to what people will do here.

Last spring I saw a man being chased down the street by an angry mob. He tripped and fell, the mob surrounded him and kicked him mercilessly. It took 2 or 3 minutes before police arrived to break up the crowd and carry the man away.

Why did today's incident bother me? Why am I upset about this behavior? Probably because my students are like my younger brothers and sisters. I'm 27 and they're 19 and 20. What does it feel like when you see your siblings fighting? Terrible. Especially when there's no reason for it.

Explosion

2008-12-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

I was reading words to the students in pronunciation class today. They were responding to the words in unison and we were having a nice class. During the chanting, a boy said something slightly louder than the others, but I didn't hear what he said exactly. Then a girl in the back of the room stood up and started yelling at him. The boy stood up and started yelling back at the girl. For a moment I was shocked. I felt the tension build as the students in the room turned to see what, exactly, was taking place. The atmosphere changed even more when the girl threw her pen at the boy, and he left his desk and began trying to attack her.

Other students were trying to hold them apart when I arrived at the back of the room and pulled the boy away from the girl by the back of his jacket, sitting him down on a bench before turning to see what was happening with the girl. She was fighting to break free so she could hit the boy, and he began to yell at her more. I turned to where he was sitting and yelled, "SHUT UP" in his face. He was quiet and I turned back, grabbed the girl, and began to drag her out of the room, yelling "shut up, come with me," as I forced her to leave. I heard another student say to her in Chinese, "Go with Dustin, go with Dustin." I think it would have been easier if she would have listened to the student, but she tried to fight it. She had no choice about leaving, but she dragged her feet and continued to shout.

By the time the girl was in the hallway, another teacher was waiting outside. He asked me what was happening and I quickly informed him. Upset by the student behavior, he apologized and then proceeded to get more information from the girl. Both the boy and the girl went into the hall with the other teacher while I talked to the class.

"I am very angry," I said to them. "I'm not angry with you, but the two students who were involved in this fight." They looked down at their desks, ashamed at the behavior of their classmates. I felt bad expressing my feelings with them when they did nothing but try and stop the fight. They needed to know that I was very angry with those students, however.

After class I talked with the students who were fighting. "Fighting is unacceptable in my class. You disrespected me, yourselves and your classmates. I am very angry." Not knowing what else to say, I went to the Department office to report the incident.

My Chinese tutor, Jane, listened while I told the story. I explained that there should be some kind of consequence for the students, but I didn't know what to do next. "Yes, that boy has some mental problems," she said. "I will ask the class what happened and let you know what to do."

And now I'm waiting for the next step.

In reflecting on the incident there is not much I would have done differently. I still don't know exactly what people said or why. The context of this fight remains unclear. Whether or not this incident has changed student opinion about me, I do not know. An update is forthcoming.

Wednesday Schedule

2008-12-02T15:51:00.000-08:00

6:30 Press 5 minute snooze button
6:35 Press 5 minute snooze button
6:40 Press 5 minute snooze button
6:45 Press 5 minute snooze button
6:50 Press 5 minute snooze button
6:55 Press 5 minute snooze button
7:00 Wake up, eat breakfast, shower?, read news
8:00 Pronunciation class
10:00 A different Pronunciation class
12:00 Lunch
12:30 Take a nap
12:45 Go to my office
2:30 Oral English Class
4:30 Daily Office Hours
6:00 Eat Dinner/Return home
7:30 English corner in English Department (speak English w/students)
9:00 Return Home
I hate Wednesdays. They are almost like real work.

You have a washing machine?!

2008-12-01T08:24:00.000-08:00

Often I find a lack of topics about which to write because I am so far removed from America. My immersion in China has somewhat blinded me to the more interesting, basic aspects of life. It wasn't until my father laughed at my system of doing laundry that I thought doing laundry might be entertaining to someone.

My washing machine is standard. I put the clothes inside and use my shower head to fill it with water. The three knobs on the bottom spin the clothes and water, helping to clean everything through agitation. After washing everything once I have to drain the water and run it again to rinse the soap from my clothes. Since this machine has several broken parts (there is no lid and the drain knob stopped working long ago) I must use the attached pull-tie that was rigged for the purpose. The water drains, I fill the washing machine with clean water and run the cycle again.

After draining the water again, I put my clothes in the spinning dryer to the right of the washing basket. Or at least, I did until it broke last winter. Instead I wring the clothes out and in the summer I hang them in the back of my apartment where the sun will dry them within a day or two. During the winter I drape my clothes over a heater after wringing them out - a heater which is only used for this purpose. The main problem I have with my clothes in China is their propensity to get larger, exponentially, with each washing. I have long johns with 10 foot sleeves. It has been difficult these days to find anything that fits me as it once did. I continue to shrink and my wardrobe expands. It would be almost comic if it weren't so sad. Nobody has much sympathy for me as my sleeves drag along the ground to class (nobody has known any different).

I have taken to folding my sleeves back over my outer clothing, which has almost become a fashion statement. In fact, I'm surprised how much of what I do becomes almost the standard for what's cool. Boys around campus secretly want to have long hair, like mine. Several weeks ago I began wearing a bandana around my neck for reasons of warmth and students immediately commented: "Wow - I like your...what's that called?"

My father laughed when I showed him my life over Skype by guiding my computer around the apartment. He laughed at my shower and he laughed at my washing machine. At first I felt slightly offended and defensive of my simple life. I was getting an experience here, not looking for luxury. The more I think about situations such as these, however, the more I find myself smiling along with him. Not because I think it's strange, but for the exact opposite reason.

DMV

2008-11-30T18:42:00.000-08:00

During my time in the office I have overheard very little. The spoken language is often thick with dialect and regional sayings, not to mention the problem of speed.

Occasionally I am able to jump into conversations. Granted the good fortune of gracious patience on part of English teachers, sometimes I am included as an active observer of conversation and even given a chance to include my own insight or some information about America relative to whatever topic is being discussed.

Last week the topic was getting a driver’s license. In America we dream of this moment, which comes when we turn 16, after a year of precise and cruel instruction on the part of your father who, no matter how angry he gets, is only trying to prevent you from killing yourself or anyone else in the future. Or at least that was my experience.

In China it is different. To have a car, one must have money. To have money, one must have a steady job. That’s why drivers are often beginning to drive when they are in their twenties or thirties. Many of the English department staff recently received their license, and their reflections on this process are vivid, if not understandably frustrating.

During this conversation I continually heard one phrase being used with contempt and so I asked about it. Both teachers looked at one another and tried to think of the English translation. “It’s something you do when you’re driving…no, not when you’re driving, when you’re going to stop driving.” I looked at her with a confused expression. “Like parking when one car is here and another car is here,” she explained, with a crude drawing to make things more clear.

“Oh! Parallel parking!” I exclaimed, happy to know that this was something we shared regardless of culture.

Evidently everyone dreaded this part of the test. But we all know that story.

When the teachers began talking of the licensing process I was drawn in further. The process is simple: Fail the test, fail the test, and then pass the test. The first test is free, so it would be silly if people merely passed it: they wouldn’t be contributing any money that way. As a result, the examination officer will find any excuse not to pass students, even if they are skilled drivers. Subsequent tests require a fee of somewhere between 250 and 300 yuan (I forgot the exact amount). Passing the second test is much easier because people had to pay money, but the examination officer will not hesitate to fail applicants if they do not perform well. The third test is like getting an honorary doctorate or being a big donor to a cause: there are special rights extended to these people. The examination suddenly becomes much easier. Provided that the examinee does not destroy any property or kill anyone during the test, they will pass.

When I asked them about this the teachers acknowledged that the process was corrupt, but that there was little they could do about it. It didn’t bother them because they have been playing this kind of game all their lives with guanxi. Private relationships are all about guanxi – who do you know, what can you get based on who you know? This elaborate system will continue when the people you know come calling on you for return favors. The entire system perpetuates itself because people feel obligated (as a manifestation of culture) to repay their guanxi debt. The licensing process is nothing more than public guanxi: you pay and we’ll give you what you need.

This issue runs deeper, with social problems such as bribery permeating all aspects of life (including college admission and elections).

So it may not matter how well one can parallel park if they make one other mistake during the examination. The examination official may ask them to keep driving around, waiting for the mistake they need to justify failure. Or it may be the 3rd testing round, after the examinee has jumped the curb and knocked over a garbage can, when the official calmly steps out of the car and hands the driver a certificate of passing.

Money, it seems, is sometimes more important than performance.

Water Monopoly (2)

2008-11-23T18:33:00.001-08:00

Another student response:

"In my college there is a rule that we must drink the water which the name [xxxxxx]. Only this kind of water. We can't drink the water that we ever drink, so that most of students can't drink water for a long time. I think it's an unfair rule.

I think it's called monopolise. It breaks the laws in business. It also doesn't respect us students. It infringes upon our rights. I don't know why it happens. We complaint our college but we can't save it, so we just suffer it. The water of [xxxxxx] is expensive and bad, and the speed that send water is very slow.

Our college doesn't offer the hot water and the water is too cold to use, so we use the tiger [heater] to make the water hot. But one of the rules in my college is that we can't use the tiger [heater]. If the caretaker find we use it, he will confiscate it. I think it's unfair, either.

How can we defend our rights? Who can infringe upon our rights?"

Saving face. Losing face.

2008-11-20T02:43:00.000-08:00

Face is perhaps the most misunderstood general concept in China. In fact, if you assume that everything I am about to write is actually the opposite of reality, you probably won't be an farther from the truth than if you accept it as is.

We are concerned about this idea of "face" in America as well, but our concern differs in both degree and aspect. For example, most Americans don't often work hard to protect other people from losing face. There are examples of when people will do so, but they are generally more extreme circumstances. After failing a test in America one might feel disappointed, a situation that might be regarded in China as a loss of face. This might also include loss of face for the family. In China, people who are part of the "in group" are likely to try to prevent this loss of face. The sibling of the child with the low mark might recommend that they throw the paper away before showing it to the family. The result of losing face will be a backlash against the child, who will need to study harder, focus more intently, and generally balance this loss of face with future successes.

The degree to which the Chinese concern themselves with face is very high and, consequently, somewhat ridiculous (to me, at least). If a student corrects me in class, I have "lost face." The class will become silent and awkward. If I say something that is culturally taboo, I might also lose face. Luckily these are the only two examples I know (there are actually thousands of ways). If I knew all of the ways I might feel embarrassed a lot more often. This way I can obliviously stomp through my daily life like an elephant (an elephant from a different culture, of course), losing face and making people lose face as I obliviously march ahead. I am a face taking machine. My students probably wonder if I will ever be civilized enough to understand face. I know that I won't.

If I were to create a loose definition of face, I wouldn't say that is is, "The front part of a person's head from the forehead to the chin, or the corresponding part in an animal."

Actually, it would be more like, "the credibility, respectability, and overall goodness of a person." I would probably include more random words to make the definition sound scientific, but right now I have limited time.

Tonight I lost face when I made one of my freshmen girls cry. She wanted to take her pronunciation test again, and I told her it was a risk: if she scored lower than her original test, I would give her the new, lower score. She agreed and took the test, receiving a lower score than the original.

She didn't want me to include the new score as part of her grade - she wanted the old score to stand. I finally agreed and added, "I'm too nice," sort of as a joke. She began to cry.

By the way, did I mention that this entire scene was being witnessed by 6 of my best students, who had been waiting for me in the office? So I lost some face because I wasn't careful about the situation. "Oh stop looking at me like that, I didn't want her to get upset," I told them jokingly after the girl left. So I lost some face because I was too direct about what just happened.

My existence is loss of face. I'm a face losing fool. It's too bad I can't donate it, because I never seem to have much face anyway. It's not that I don't care, I do. It's just that I don't really understand.

Year 2

2008-11-19T17:16:00.000-08:00

China has been many things, and often I find it to be one giant contradiction. My first year in China was often unpleasant. Illnesses, cultural mishaps, a winter with teeth, and adjusting to a new job were each a part of my slow acculturation. There were days that I hated to be in China. There were days when I hated China. There were days when I just wanted to go home. On those days you feel every mile between yourself and home, believe me.

On a few occasions there were complete breakdowns, followed by phone calls home. I became a child again, talking to my parents about my problems and hoping that they would somehow make them go away.

Not only did the problems not go away, they found new ways of manifesting themselves in my life. Suddenly I was throwing up in the kitchen sink AND I had no running water. I am reminded of my cousin's upcoming wedding; the one that I can't attend.

One of my fellow volunteers and good friend summed it up best when he returned to the U.S. for medical leave:

"You are all amazing people and I am honored to have gotten to know you these past months. Your conversations, opinions, cooking, creativity, and lust for living meaningful lives has inspired and given hope to a broken, cynical shell-of-a-man (ie, me).

You should be proud to have survived this odyssey that is Peace Corps China. In many ways this experience is an exercise of attrition that only those with the most endurance (or dumb luck) can suffer through. You have done it. And though we may be the only ones who truly understand what that means, it is nonetheless a commendable accomplishment."

And often that's what it felt like to be in China.

But this year has been different.

This year is the promise of Obama, when compared with 8 years of a Bush presidency.

It began with continued understanding. The need to know what was going on around me and the desire to learn. Many behaviors have slowly been revealed in this way, but I want to point out one that might teach you something. It involves collectivism vs. individualism.

"Since individualists have to work at their relationships to maintain them, they tend to develop skills for effective superficial interaction with others" (Wheeler, Reis, and Bond, 1989).

One of my students' biggest unspoken complaints was my apparent unwillingness to make friends. To them my fleeting conversations were not a part of my cultural upbringing, but a kind of arrogance or inability to do so. Inability to make friends is probably close to the truth of the matter.

Look at it this way: Much separates Chinese people from Americans. Americans are independent where Chinese are collectivist. Americans want to stand out where Chinese want to belong. And what about the culture of poverty? How much of student behavior is determined by "Chinese Culture," or "Poverty," or some strange mix of both?!

Not only have I been trained to create an extensive list of 'superficial' (according to Chinese standards) friends, China makes it even more difficult by forcing me to navigate the great number of people! Not only were my students saying, "We wish you were a real friend who invested time in your friendship with us," but there were 4 times as many people saying it!

I'm afraid I haven't exactly "solved" this problem yet, but that's not really the point. What I want to explain is that continued work in this area has helped me tremendously. I know my students and colleagues much better than before. I am comfortable on the street and I know how to react in most situations. I haven't been ill since the spring. Several of my classes are subjects I've taught before, so I'm gaining experience in teaching at this level (especially pronunciation!).

Feeling better has helped me to be more committed, and being more committed has brought with it more respect and willingness to understand on the part of my students.

I don't have much of a moral here, just that Peace Corps was right when they said the second year was easier (and more fulfilling).

Wheeler, L., Reis, H. T., & Bond, M. H. (1989). Collectivism-individualism in everyday social life: The Middle Kingdom and the melting pot. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 57, 79-86

Water Monopoly! (or Where is Teddy Roosevelt When People Need Him?)

2008-11-16T06:39:00.000-08:00

Students in the dorms don’t have clean drinking water or the ability to boil water for drinking. The result is the need for a water cooler and large water bottle delivery – a convenience now provided with a smile by the school. In the past students ordered water from off campus and it was delivered by the company. Someone at the school realized that the school could buy up the water, hold it, and deliver it to students at a higher price. People started calling the water company to have it delivered directly, rather than relying upon the school. The water company was met with resistance at the school gate, however, and was turned away. Since the school controls what goes in or out of the gate, they simply hold the needed resource until the students are forced to comply.

Many students realized what was happening, and they were very unhappy. So unhappy, in fact, that they called a reporter to report what was happening in the school. The outcome was grim. After meeting with a school leader the reporter told the students that nothing could be done. One student explained, “To my surprised, it is a socialist country, it serves the community? If I have a second change I don't choose to born here like the country.” These students are the very same who are caught between a fierce nationalist pride and a profound confusion at the policies of their own school. They understand that there are injustices, but the authorities here deflect most of this in a fairly creative way: “But look at all of the problems with this place or that place. Focus on this other incident. Look what happened over there!”

When this isn’t sufficient there is always the ability to simply not care about the students. After all, the students here have no idea what it means to protest. They don’t feel their egalitarian souls being stolen by someone stronger than they are. They have never tasted liberty on the same level as we have, and they haven’t been raised in a culture of protest, demanding equal rights, and fighting for principle alone. Despite living in a collectivist society, students, and people in general, are unaccustomed to fighting for what they see as an ultimately futile cause. There is also a lack of creativity. Despite having the foresight to call a reporter, they had no backup plan or understanding of the power that they possess.

As a volunteer here I am completely uninvolved in this process. It’s important that I don’t concern myself with these issues, specifically due to the rules governing my conduct here. Despite these restrictions, however, I am free to share what is happening here. So there you have it.

More Photos

2008-11-08T16:53:00.001-08:00

More English school photos...

Rural School for Weekend Study

2008-11-08T16:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I agreed to go with my student to the primary school where she teaches English on the weekends. We even planned a short lesson together. Enjoy the photos.

Student Writing

2008-11-06T17:15:00.000-08:00

[removed for privacy]

Another Train Story

2008-11-02T03:44:00.000-08:00

When we got on the train in Guiyang to go back to our sites I didn't expect to see foreigners. I never expect to see foreigners in Guizhou. Ever. But there they were, a large group of Americans, many of whom seemed to be Chinese-American. There looked to be about 30 late middle school or early high school age students. We caught several bits of conversation as we boarded the car next to theirs:

"Come over here, block that guy."
or
"Don't let her get through!"

They seemed to be experiencing difficulties as they were caught up in the push and shove that can only be appreciated by those who have become accustomed to such behavior. I would argue that I am a competent train-boarder, complete with my ability to let the ocean of people bump into me, breathe down my neck, and push their way to the front. I am not a stone in the river. I am the river.

We sat in our seats, but I couldn't stay for long. I needed to know why these foreigners were in Guizhou. Our Guizhou. Perhaps they had come for the waterfall.

I walked back to their car. It was a crowded car, with lost of people standing in the aisle (they bought standing tickets). Before I could inquire about their destination a girl began talking to herself loudly. "Don't tell me he's sitting in my seat, that's my seat, buddy, HEY, listen, this is my seat, not yours..."

It made me nervous. She was talking to him in English, but I'm sure her tone conveyed enough rudeness to make her and the Chinese man lose face. Of course, she was completely unaware that she had lost face. The other Americans were also unaware that their image was rapidly deteriorating in light of other similar incidents.

I watched as three American boys speaking a strange Mandarin Chinese yelled at a Chinese man who was sitting in their seat. It was strange because these boys spoke excellent Chinese and then, suddenly, they would change to English so that the other passengers didn't know what they were saying.

"This is our seat, look at this ticket!" one boy shouted in Chinese.
"I can stand here, it's a standing ticket," replied a Chinese man.
"He can't stand right by us, that's stupid," the boy said in English, and then, "let me see your ticket," in Mandarin.
"Look guys, his ticket doesn't even have a number, it's fake!" he shouted to his friends in English.
"Yeah, it's fake!" other students chimed in.

At this point I was thoroughly embarrassed. I was so embarrassed that my hands were shaking. It was easy to see that these boys had made the Chinese man lose face, and he was defending his right to stand in the aisle.

I decided to intervene.

"It's not fake; it's a standing ticket," I said.
"Then why is it more expensive than ours?" another boy asked accusingly.
"Probably because he's going farther than you," I responded.

It was awkward. This knowledge made me even more embarrassed. These students were yelling at good people. These were peasants and farmers just trying to get back to work - they couldn't even afford seats.

I turned to a girl who looked to be Chinese-American. "Listen, you should tell your friends to calm down. When someone is sitting in your seat, just say '不好意思了，我觉得你在我的坐位。‘ In China you need to be less direct, otherwise nobody is going to cooperate."

"Don't speak Chinese," she responded, "they will understand you." Then she looked away from me as if I was part of the problem they were having.

Never have I experienced such terrible behavior.

The American students continued to be rude and I decided that it was time to leave. I walked back to my car.

Later one of the American teachers passed and I flagged him down. "Where are you from? Who are those kids?"
"I teach at an International School in Shenzhen (near Hong Kong) - those students are 8th graders. Most of them are Korean-Americans who have lived here for about 5 years. Their parents work in China at oil companies or in high tech fields," he said.

Terrie and I talked about it after he left.

"They have probably never been on a train before," she said.

Probably true.

These students who have lived in China for 5 times as long as me know less about how to interact with Chinese than I do. Me, with my terrible Chinese and my strange long hair.

As I'm writing this the incident is already two hours gone, but I'm still angry about it. I try to help maintain the image of Americans as good, hardworking, friendly people, and that picture is destroyed for an entire train-car of appalled Chinese passengers. No wonder I encounter such mixed feelings about foreigners in China.

Did you vote?

2008-10-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

Voting.

I received a phone call asking me to help with a last minute drive to support the Obama campaign. "Sorry," I said, "I'm working in China right now."

I was excited to have my opportunity vote, despite living in another country. But after my trip to the Post Office I began to wonder about the cost.

In China I make nearly 1400 yuan, which is fancy Chinese talk for $200. But living here and spending the money makes its value much stronger than it seems. I would argue that one could treat my salary as dollars. Lunches cost me 5 yuan (America $5) and making copies 3 jiao (America .03 c), so I feel that my salary of 1400 yuan is like living in America on $1400 (not bad, right?).

In the Post Office they wanted 187 yuan to send my ballot to America via Airmail. If you want to do the calculation that's fine (just divide by 6.8), but I try not to think of it that way. The truth is, I just spent 187 dollars to send in a ballot that might not even be counted (who knows how long it will really take).

But it was worth it. Absolutely.

The faces of my students made me feel good about America. Their wonder that I could vote from China was clear. They seemed to understand the importance of this rare moment of American democracy. One student looked at my ballot and spoke rapid Chinese to everyone else. I only caught one phrase: "This way is better."

I guess my only disappointment is not receiving one of those little stickers: "I voted."

Post Office Receipts

"Would you like to buy some goldfish?"

2008-10-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

The question was posed to us in Guiyang, on the street. Typically people sell fruits, vegetables, and trinkets, but this woman was offering something more: friendship in a small bowl of water.

"Just 12 yuan ($2) for two fish and the bowl."

"Ok, throw the net in and we'll call it good." I said.

"No, the fishnet is 1 yuan."

"That's ridiculous!" I complain, "Let me tell you something about the costs of goldfish and goldfish accessories..."

[haggling continues for several minutes]

"What shall we name them?"

"Punk and Rock?"

"What about Tegan and Sara?"

No News

2008-10-26T06:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting much lately, but the blame rests entirely on the circumstances of my life. Just talking about this is making me aware of the monotony that is my typical day in China lately.

It was suddenly winter last week. My tutor said, "It will be colder tomorrow because it's almost winter." And it was. It changed from a brisk fall day, to a chilly winter one. I'm almost certain this weather is here to stay.

Today I even went through my closet to find a stack of 5 thick wool sweaters. I put the first one on before shaking out the thick coat of dust that had accumulated. After sneezing uncontrollably for 20 minutes I decided that I didn't like winter. Maybe I'm taking my anger out on the wrong subject, but there a chain of causation there nonetheless.

When I was eating rice noodles at lunch today the cook's husband went to fetch more noodles from the bottom of a gutted washing machine. The drollery sustained me.

At my favorite restaurant I asked how they bought their eggs, and they explained that a man came around with a cart of vegetables and eggs each morning. I put in an order because I didn't want to walk the 3 blocks to buy them. Sure I'm a bit lazy, but it felt good that they wanted to help me out. They took my money and said to stop by the next day. I guess this is probably just a perk. This restaurant is my kitchen, except I don't cook the food and I pay for it when I'm done. In fact, I eat there so much that I might secretly own stock. Call the response to my request an egg dividend.

"How many do you want?" the wife asks.

"Ummm... 30."

"No problem."

I like to pretend I know people and have lots of connections. "You need how many live chickens? No, it's not a problem, I just need to talk to some people." I pull out my cell phone and make a fake phone call. "Give me 3 days," I say after hanging up.

I still don't know how overseas adoption works exactly, but I'm looking into it.

Really, there's no news here.

My students stare at the phonetics consonant sound chart with a dearth of enthusiasm that would make a sloth look like a trader on wall street (pre-recession). A three-toed sloth of genus Megalonychidae! I can see a glassy look that only changes to awkward nervousness when I try to inspire them with a statement of deep profundity.

I turned on my electric blanket for the first time last night.

I just realized that I haven't cooked myself a meal in China since July. Oh wait. There was one time. I cooked a soup.

The Middle Way

2008-10-25T03:44:00.000-07:00

I spent part of my afternoon searching for a Buddhist temple in downtown Anshun. I heard from my tutor that it was just across from the lake, on the route of bus 11. It was raining and cool. Recently the weather has taken a turn; this morning I could feel winter in my toes.

Finally I resorted to asking a couple of girls who looked to be high school students.

"I'm looking for a temple," I said.

"Down there," she pointed, "take those stairs."

When I entered the temple, the "hellos" from a couple younger children indicated that other foreigners had visited in the past. Indeed, when I signed the guestbook before leaving I noticed that a couple from England had passed through only two days before.

I asked if I could get something to eat and look at the temple, and they invited me to eat with them. Sitting down to a vegetarian meal was nice for a change. In these large group situations, I typically pick through meat dishes, avoid the fish, and struggle to fill my stomach.

"You are a vegetarian?" an older woman asks me.

I nod my head and she responds, "That's great, it's good for your health. You will live a long time."

It's nice to hear these things, especially for someone accustomed to hearing, "What a pity that you are a vegetarian, food tastes better with meat - it's healthier too!"

It was also nice to be reminded of my host family experience. "Eat more, eat more!" they said as they lifted dishes toward my bowl. "Thank you so much!" I would respond, taking more of each dish. I felt at home in China again, far from the endless take-out containers stacked in my kitchen garbage can.

Eating at the temple wasn't very different than a typical group meal, proving that even though they were Buddhist, these people were still a subculture of China. Despite living together and practicing their religion, they were thoroughly Chinese. Their manners and mannerisms were the same, even if their clothes were not.

After eating, which was provided free of charge, a host took me on a tour of the temple. She showed me where to light the incense sticks and how to pray. I put 5 yuan (the likely cost of my meal) into the box and she showed me other parts of the temple.

When everyone discovered that I was not a traveler, but a local person, they clamored for my phone number and asked me to return when I had time. "Wait here," one woman told me as I was leaving. She brought me an apple and a pomegranate.

"Come back," they all said. "Come back and teach us English!"

2008-10-23T18:27:00.000-07:00

Those 5-year students...

2008-10-18T22:31:00.000-07:00

I have shared several pieces of this story in the last several months. It began with the letter I wrote to the English Department Dean, stating my intent to no longer teach the 5-year students (reprinted below)

May 12, 2008

张老师，

First I would like to express my gratitude for having this opportunity to teach at Anshun Teacher’s College. My experiences here have been wonderful and educational. The freshmen have been patient with my learning style and I have enjoyed teaching them. This experience has taught me much about education in China and helped me to reflect upon my own ideas of education.

I wanted to express concern about teaching five-year students in the future. Bethany had four classes last semester and four classes this semester (of five-year students) and I have 2 classes this semester. It has been challenging for a number of reasons, but our primary concern is our inability to effectively instruct these students.

One reason we feel somewhat unfit to teach these students is due to their limited English ability. Although I can often get by speaking some Chinese, I have found that anything I say in English is either not understood or misunderstood. We have found that the required text is far too difficult for these students and supplementing the text is a weekly requirement. My limited Chinese ability tends to serve my own ends rather than the need of the students to practice English, but it is nonetheless required for them to understand.

In addition to lack of adequate communication, we feel that we are sometimes unable to understand the cultural nuances of the Chinese classroom. In a typical classroom these nuances can be discussed by speaking English slowly, but in the five-year classroom effective communication about absences, late arrivals, homework, and classroom management are often misconstrued.

It is our request that next semester we do not teach the five-year students. I do not feel that the students have done something wrong, but rather that their ability to speak, listen to, read and write English is too low for us to be successful teachers.

If you have questions about this request, please let me know. I would be happy to discuss any details with you personally.

Sincerely,

Dustin D. Ooley
欧雷

This letter was followed by an assault of indirect communication on part of the Dean meant to keep us teaching Oral English. After my refusal, and implications that there would be consequences for asking us to teach these students again, the Dean finally decided to comply. We wouldn't teach the students again the next semester.

Then the next semester came. Several students who failed my class requested to take make-up exams. The department notified me that I was to give a make-up for the students. A recent post outlines the results of that exam.

I also promised to continue following this story. The purpose is to explain the customs and practices of a poor college in China.

Recently the Dean came to talk with me about the second round of failures. She explained the following:

"Since the students failed the make-up exam you will need to teach them again this semester."

"Nope. No I won't. I have explained to you the problem with foreigners teaching these students and I will not teach them again."

The Dean had a worried look on her face. I needed to work with her to make things right. There is no polarity in China without massive loss of face.

"I'll tell you what," I said, "I'll give you the exam and the exam's answers. You can work with the students and help them to pass."

She agreed.

But this is precisely what I had done twice before. Despite having the one or two-word answers for all the questions on the test, the students still failed to study. The students were so lazy that even given the answers they refused to work to remember what those answers were.

In a couple weeks I will ask the Dean about the status of these students to see about the end to this drawn-out story.

2008-10-15T05:38:00.000-07:00

hmmm...

2008-10-15T04:43:00.000-07:00

This was a profound conversation

2008-10-15T04:40:00.000-07:00

Radio Broadcast

2008-10-15T04:36:00.000-07:00

Last week I was asked to prepare something for a radio broadcast throughout the campus. I misunderstood what they wanted and prepared a short discussion. As it turns out, the students wanted to interview me during the broadcast and provide a hot-line for students to call and ask me questions. This is what I wrote for them before I realized it was an interview:

Good afternoon. My name is Dustin Ooley. My Chinese name is 欧雷。 I came to China about one year ago as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I was in Chengdu for 2 months last year. While I was in Chengdu I lived with a Chinese family. I also studied Chinese for 5 or 6 hours every day. My training helped me to learn about Chinese culture and teaching English in China.

The school asked me to talk to you today about American Culture. This topic is too big for me, and I want to focus on two things: my cultural surprises when coming to China and my regional dialect (fangyan).

I had no idea history was so important to a people.

When students talk to me for the first time, I often hear the same questions. After answering these questions, people want to talk about their country’s history. People want to know what I know about the past. I was never interested in history, but now people were asking me about it. I quickly learned Chinese words and phrases such as “5,000 years of history,” and “Qing Dynasty, Tang Dynasty, Terra Cotta Warriors”. My feelings about the history have always been neutral, but I am amazed how many Chinese people have pride in their own history. Where one comes from is even important; to know your roots or laojia is critical. I know why this is important but I don’t really understand it very well. I am from a different kind of society. Our history is brief and few people talk about it regularly.

I expected to learn a lot about Chinese culture when I came to China. I thought that I would understand Chinese people. But the longer I am in China, the less I know. So many contradictions leave me feeling confused and lost. Eventually I realized that I was learning something else: I was becoming more of an expert on my own culture. Coming to China helped me to understand my culture and myself; I needed another culture to help me understand my own. This has been valuable as I try to explain my thoughts to my students. I have started to understand my own materialism and individualism. I have learned how these are aspects of my personality. I accept that I am very different from Chinese people, even after living in China for over a year. I will probably always be different.

When I first started teaching Chinese students I learned to talk slower and more clearly. My students still complain that I speak too quickly, but I try and speak slowly. In class I use more special English. I try not to use complicated grammar or complicated words. I try to be more like Voice of America: clear, slow, and standard. But America has many dialects. Despite my slower speech I still speak with an accent.

I am from a small town in the Northwest of America. My hometown has 20,000 people. I have a unique, regional fangyan. This is the dialect I speak with my family, and it’s different than other parts of America. My dialect is understood by all Americans because it is not like Guizhouhua and Putonghua. But there are still differences. Today I want to share some of the differences using common phrases.

One common phrase is “Where are you going?” In Mandarin this is “Ni qu nar?”, but dialect it is more like, “Ni kay na day?” The same is true with my dialect. “Where are you going?” is actually “Where yuh goin?”

Other phrases are a bit more interesting. “What is going on?” is less clear: “Skoe in on?”

“Do you know what I mean?” is “Yuh no whudeye mean?”

“What are you doing?” is actually “Whud ar yuh doo in.”

“You are going to the store?” is not quite so clear because the last word is the only one that’s the same: “Yer goin du thu store?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Is “I dunno whutcher tahkin uhbowt.”

Some of my students understand parts of my dialect. They can follow my lazy speech. But most cannot. Many become frustrated; they have learned British English for 6 years, and now they must learn American English! I feel the same frustration when I try to understand Guizhouhua.

New Students / Just an Update

2008-10-08T15:50:00.000-07:00

Last year when I stood in front of my freshmen phonetics classes there was a nervous atmosphere. The students reserved and worried, but I had some of those same emotions. I was just arriving in a new country, after all. My time in China was filled with communication failures, social blunders, and mistakes in cultivating professional relationships that would help me get things done (guanxi).

I have a better idea of what to do this year in my classes. China is not new, but a place I've lived for 15 months. The Chinese classroom is also familiar. The students follow a pattern and I hear many of the same questions; their curiosity is similar to that of former freshmen and to that of Chinese citizens in general. While I'm not exactly finishing their sentences for them, I am far more prepared to educate these students than I was 12 months ago.

This makes things easier... and harder.

It makes teaching easier. I know how to reach my students now. I know what they need from me as a foreign teacher, especially when it comes to questions of culture and thinking.

It makes watching administrative mistakes very painful. When a new staff member argues with me or a Dean says that there is no way to book that room I get upset. It hurts when I know there are ways to fix things, but some people are too lazy to make the changes. The situations are related to development and poverty. Once I heard a cook complain to his wife when he had to get up from his table to get me some extra salt. So sorry to put you out! Sheesh. But then, this is common for Peace Corps, and I try to accept it.

Our game club will begin soon. I'm trying to create some interest in a movie club. Maybe we'll get around to having a boy's club. The English department's population is under 10% male students. Maybe they need their own club.

What are all of these clubs, but opportunities to speak English? They aren't much more. Maybe they are a window into American culture, but I am only one person. More likely they are chances for me to learn more about my students, develop relationships, better understand them, and better understand China.

It's 7:09 a.m. My floors are cold this morning - a sign of the impending winter. I have Chinese at 8:15 a.m., then an English class following it at 10.

More Tiger Leaping Gorge Photos

2008-10-05T05:33:00.001-07:00

Tiger Leaping Gorge

2008-10-05T05:28:00.000-07:00

Email a Chinese College Student

2008-10-04T06:54:00.000-07:00

I have several students who are interested in emailing Americans. Do you want to email a Chinese student? Do you have questions about college life in China? Just want to try something new?

Send me an email and I'll find you a student asap. If you are under 18 I need permission from your parents.

Cheers,
dustin

fn0112358@gmail.com

Our Little Vacation to Yunnan

2008-10-04T05:12:00.000-07:00

The purpose of the vacation was to hike the 40 kilometer Tiger Leaping Gorge trail over the course of 2 days (one night at a guesthouse halfway along the trail). We began our journey, leaving early from Guizhou and arriving in Kunming, Yunnan 12 hours later. Since it was already late we checked into our hotel and woke early the next day, ready for continued travel.

The bus to Lijiang was supposed to take 9 hours, but it sat in Kunming traffic for around 2 hours. The cars around us honked as we sat in the lingering fumes. All of the windows were open due to the heat. It was another late night arrival in Lijiang, and we didn't know where our hostel was located. We ended up stopping at a 5-star hotel to ask for directions. The price of their cheapest rooms hovered around the monthly salary of a Peace Corps China Volunteer. We knew they were high-class when we saw the sign that warned, "No disheveled people." We looked at one another with surprise before laughing and lining up for pictures with the funny sign, much to the dismay of the 5-star receptionists inside (who were talking to the least disheveled of our group). After getting directions came the long, dark alley walk. Doors passed us on either side with Chinese and English signs and I wondered how we would ever find our hostel. But we did. We found it, went to sleep, and spent the next day relaxing in Lijiang before our 3 hour bus ride to Qiaotou, the Tiger Leaping Gorge trail head.

The 3 hour bus ride was interrupted by an accident involving bus driver negligence. Our driver put the bus in neutral, stood up, and started walking over to talk to another passenger while we sat in traffic. Unfortunately the bus sat on a slight grade and the driver neglected to use the emergency brake. As we rolled and passengers yelled I looked up and saw a minivan disappear beneath our windshield. We had just hit the minivan. This accident wouldn't have been so bad if we could have exchanged information and moved on (the minivan damage was minimal). But the two parties became temporary claims agents, bargaining for a reasonable fee to pay for the damaged minivan! They bargained for half an hour and we arrived at Qiaotou after 4 hours of traffic and bargaining.

We spent the night at Jane's, a hostel established specifically for through hikers. While walking from the bus stop to the hostel I bought my trail pass (50 yuan or 25 yuan for students). The attendant took my Gonzaga University card and gave me the discount, even though I am not a student. Other volunteers who are students were not so lucky: they had no proof of their status and had to pay the full 50 yuan (except the volunteer who used my Gonzaga ID the next day!).

The hike itself was worth all the trouble. Hours on buses and trains were quickly forgotten as we stared across this amazing gorge at mountains that stretched into the sky and disappeared in the clouds. We walked and almost felt the mountains to our right, towering over us. There were moments along the trail when I felt completely free, walking along and listening to the sounds of the mountains and their inhabitants. At some of the higher points (2800 Meters) we could look down to the Yangtze River to see cars and buses lining the roadway. Most tourists opted for the easy option, but I was glad to be up there away from everyone and everything.

Our room in the guesthouse gave a clear view of the mountains across the gorge. It was perfect.

The next day we hiked out and stopped after only about 10 kilometers (30 total) to catch a bus and begin our two-part trip to Dali via Lijiang. In the return van we passed hordes of Chinese people snapping pictures of the river and mountains surrounding them. We stepped down from the mountain and back into China - crowds and traffic and waiting.

Updates

2008-10-03T08:24:00.001-07:00

During the last week I have been on a short vacation with other PCVs. Currently we are in Yunnan Province, where we have seen a few cities and hiked Tiger Leaping Gorge over a two-day period. Updates on this vacation are forthcoming as my internet connection becomes constant and I have some time to write. Lately everything has been a race to the next hostel or hotel: running to find a place where we can sleep before the rooms are sold-out.

It has been bus ride after bus ride. Problem after problem.

But the trip has been good. It has been something to learn from and a time to remember.

I am glad for the opportunity to travel with friends.

You Don't Mess with the ZOHAN

2008-09-26T22:42:00.000-07:00

"Adam Sandler plays in the film and file members of the Israeli blitz Han, a skill he Jiao Jian Dadashasha are tired of life, intends to re-planning his career, so choose to go New York to be ahairdresser. In forging its own after the death of Johan began his hairdresser's dream, know nothing about the novice from the start, gradually practice and ultimately become a top barber."

Or at least, this was the review written on the back of the illegal DVD. For most people illegal DVDs have become just another aspect of life here. If you were to ask me where you could get a legal DVD I would probably tilt my head slightly, like a dog when it doesn't understand something.

As you can see, what's actually written on the DVD case is of minimal importance. The overall look of the packaging is the focus. Spelling the movie's name correctly is a must. Including the proper rating or accurate credits is not necessary (this was rated 'G').

My favorite DVD cases include negative reviews of the movie they are trying to sell. On one: "Horribly disappointing." On another: "A waste of your time."

DVDs go for around 8-12 yuan ($1.20-$1.80) in most places, though they are around 6-8 in Chengdu. Negotiating is acceptable for larger quantities.

Oral English (07 4 Year)

2008-09-25T18:12:00.000-07:00

After a year of Communicative English the students are starting to understand. We learn by doing. Really - we don't have to memorize long passages of English!

I can still see them on that first day. The frightened looks. Shy responses and standing to answer questions.

"May I come in?" A formal request to enter the classroom if they are late.

In April a confession: "I was afraid to talk to you this year. I didn't know if you were busy or if you would even listen to me."

The always interesting Chinese student.

I could learn things from them for years.

The Loss of Egalitarianism

2008-09-25T02:07:00.000-07:00

The cabs pulled over to the curb where we were standing in the rain. An employee from the computer store was with Bethany and me because he wanted to help us set up the wireless internet router that Bethany had recently purchased. The first cabbie said "15," and I shook my head. I told the employee that cabs should be 10 from this part of the city, especially if they choose to avoid the meter. "Meter or 10," I always say, shaming the cab driver to the realization that I know a cab ride is 9 by the meter.

When I have knowledge of a fair price and explain that to a vendor or to service personnel, I expect to be treated reasonably.

The next cab stopped. "How much?"

"20."

Ridiculous. We prepared to take the next cab that was 15 because arguing would get us nowhere. And that's what the driver of the next cab said: "15." We climbed in the backseat and I suddenly realized how clear the conversation was. The driver was talking to the computer store employee in excellent mandarin and I understood everything.

"It's normally 10, but since there are foreigners with you it's 15."

I was livid. This kind of attitude is pretty typical of a minority of Chinese people who feel culturally superior to foreigners. These thoughts run as deep as the rampant nationalism and fervent Mao cultism that still mystifies me.

The largest factor in my anger during this kind of situation is the loss of egalitarian spirit. When someone says to your face, "It's more for you because you are a foreigner," it hurts. But one of the reasons it hurts is a lifetime of being told that we are all equal.

It's safe to say that there are many attitudes towards westerners, all of which differ across socioeconomic and geographic lines. I have found that most Chinese people are extremely hospitable and that, as a foreigner, I often feel safer in China than America; the crime rate is much lower in China. This being said, I would like to address an issue that has always lingered awkwardly in the background - a sentiment held by many Chinese that underlies the big face and warm hospitality. I am speaking of discrimination toward foreigners.

As with most sensitive topics, I usually issue a preamble to clarify and contextualize this discussion. But then, as this discussion is based solely on the rare experiences of volunteers, I don't think the information is unfair or unwarranted.

On several occasions other volunteers have complained about similar issues:

A Chinese woman is angry with another Chinese person for helping a foreigner.

The constant question: “Can you use chopsticks?” as we are in the process of using them (they can’t imagine that a foreigner would be able to do something that is so culturally significant to them).

Attitudes toward the Japanese. There is a near-universal loathing of the Japanese people that is only tempered by the fact that Japan currently plays so little of a role in their affairs.

Even the words used to label people feel harsh and have negative connotations to the American ear: "foreigner" or "outside of country person."

At first I was willing to leave this topic alone. The blatant cheating in Vietnam left me so exhausted that China looked wonderful in comparison. But this kind of cheating seems to run deeper than a desire for money. It is almost a desire for revenge.

For decades China has been closed to foreigners, yet Americans, Europeans, and Japanese have bullied their way into the Chinese market. Footholds were established in various regions, all designed to implement political pressure through military occupation or establish trade routes to cash in on untapped wealth. All of this was done against China’s wishes and the opium war in the late 1800s seemed to epitomize this persecution of China.

The additional facts that China is universally homogenous and culturally so different add to a confused national attitude of resentment, fear and admiration (yes, all at once). Of course, these attitudes are changing as China’s economy continues to grow stronger and more people shift toward individualism.

As China becomes more of a player in the global economy, individualism and globalization will affect the attitudes of people here. This will happen first on the coast where people have more access to education, decent health care, and western ideas, slowly spreading inland as the provinces accumulate capital.

It's going to be an interesting 21st century.

Cheating (2)

2008-09-25T01:39:00.000-07:00

Today I wandered around the room, proctoring the make-up examination (the second exam) for the 5-year students. I would describe them as students who struggle to learn English, but the fact is that they have great difficulties with school. Struggle implies effort put forth to do something and these students are devious and lazy.

The 9 students slowly wrote answers to the questions and used body language that was all too familiar: something was wrong. I looked around the room. Then I walked around the room once. I sat back down at the front. Something was definitely wrong.

I was immediately upset because I knew this would involve a new level of surveillance. I was going to have to work to ensure this test was administered fairly.

The first student was obvious. She was doing a classic cheat that involves cheat-notes on the lap. I could see her eyes shifting slightly from her paper to her lap. I pretended not to notice as she looked up at me. I shifted in my seat. I took interest in someone across the room, waiting for a moment to slide over and see what was going on. Finally I turned and walked quickly to her desk. She was too late – I took two pieces of paper from inside her desk that contained several of the test answers.

This was, of course, the opening to an hour of continued crackdowns on this illicit practice. The second student was far more resourceful. She used a 1.5 x 2.5 inch card (front and back) that contained several answers to the test. This card was hidden between test sheets to avoid getting caught as I wandered around and checked their desks and laps. I turned her page to see if she was almost done with the test and there it was. An accident on my part that led to catching a cheater.

I wouldn’t have caught the next 5 students if I hadn’t seen more suspicious behavior on the part of several students. The way the test is structured, one either knows the answer or not. It does not come down to a slow process of answering questions one-by-one until finished: this test is quickly done if it is done at all. Several students were about halfway done, having completed every answer prior to the one on which they were working. Then it was clear: the students were getting the answers from another source. I cautiously checked their hands by walking around the room and looking from different angles, but there was nothing there. Sleeves were ruled out as well. Then I noticed a strange behavior. One student was using a large eraser to remove small scuffmarks from his desk. When I examined more closely I could see vague smudges of answers to the test. I checked each student and found 3 more doing the same thing. Then I investigated the desk of a girl who had completed the exam and left several minutes before: vague remnants of penned answers covered the place where her test would have been. I marked her test with a large “C” for “Cheating.”

I felt tempted to admire their aptitude for cheating, but the sadness of what this means for them and their future is overwhelming. Besides, if I caught them they couldn’t be all THAT good.

Last semester, this class suffered a large percentage of failures due to absenteeism, cheating, final examination failure, or a combination of these. The test itself was not too difficult, nor was the class. The rate of failure was around 45%, an abnormally high number.

I wrote a letter to the English department that stated a need for Chinese instructors. This class was filled with students who had poor study habits, displayed inappropriate behavior, and often failed to come to class. A foreign teacher could not solve the problems because the students don’t speak English. After some deliberation and an ultimatum, the department decided to forgo assigning foreign teachers to this class.

This semester we don’t have this class, but the students who failed the exam came to me. They asked about the make-up exam, a common practice in Chinese higher education. I would give them a make-up exam, they would pass, and everyone would be happy. Unfortunately, things don’t work like that. Generally the make-up test is designed by the Chinese teachers to be passable by a monkey on roller skates. I think differently, and the difficulty of my test changed very little. Granted, the original test was easy enough.

Cost-benefit analysis of the tests reveals some startling evidence that, had I thought about it beforehand, explains much of the behavior I saw during the make-up exam. Of the students, 78% cheated on the second exam. At first this surprised me, but further review of the situation made things clear.

A student taking a test during the first round might be embarrassed if they are caught cheating. The student is more likely to avoid this and try for a passing score by studying. After all, it is only the first test.

Students who have already failed, however, see things much differently. They have been sufficiently embarrassed by failing the first test, and now they are in an environment surrounded by other students who feel the same way. The benefit of passing the exam by cheating far outweighs the risk of being caught.

How will this situation end? Will the students end up passing the exam anyway? Were there unspoken orders to pass these students no matter how low they scored on the make-up?

It’s hard to say what will happen. I will follow the situation closely in the coming weeks.

For the Dogs

2008-09-23T06:50:00.001-07:00

I would like to give a detailed account of the dogs in Guizhou, but there is little that I know. Perhaps one could say that I know enough to be appropriately frightened, which is just the amount that the Peace Corps Medical Office wants a volunteer to know.

The first statistic we heard in Pre-service Training was the rabies vaccination rates for dogs in China (3%). As time went by and I learned more about China, I began to analyze this percentage. If the vast majority of the wealth is concentrated along the Pacific Coastline, and wealth has any correlation with owners vaccinating their dogs, then the 3% is quickly reduced to 0 in the countryside.

And so, after spending a year here, I had still never pet an animal. It was discouraging. That's why, the day I finally saw a dog wagging its tail while a little girl patted his back, I felt so happy. I strolled down to the side-street and decided to go for it. It couldn't hurt.

Now let me tell you something that I knew about dogs before coming to China. In America, the vast majority of dogs will bite when they feel threatened and a significant percentage will bite for a number of other reasons. What I'm saying is that I was well aware of the tendency for dogs to bite. Coupled with my refusal to ask the little girl whether or not I could pet her dog, my hasty attempt to pet the first animal in over a year was met with a strange smile.

That's right: the dog smiled at me. Or it seemed to for just a moment - before I realized that the teeth were fully bared and quickly approaching my knee.

People say that intense situations can cause a slow motion effect. Some report that time even stops during critical situations. I'm not sure if that happened to me. I think the truth is that some sort of epinephric fluid shot into my system and pulled my leg out of the way: I certainly didn't do it on my own.

There were political and social repercussions after this foolish incident, though not as many as there would have been if the dog had bitten me (we were at summer project, charged to the care of some Chinese college teachers). Measures would later be taken to ensure our safety by protecting us from ourselves. Questions were asked such as, "Now, you know not to walk out into the street, right?" in complete seriousness, and, generally, I felt a huge loss of face.

What I took away from the incident made it worth all of the shame. I became wary of dogs. Big dogs. Little dogs. All dogs.

This is why, when I run in the countryside, I often carry two stones - one in each fist. I have not thrown them at any dogs, but feints have proven to be an excellent deterrent. Not that I think any dogs are really going to attack me - many are tied up by the families who will later eat them.

In America a derogatory word for a police officer is "pig," but in China they use the word "dog."

When I look at the wandering, scavenging, miserable creatures along the road I feel the invisible barrier between the lives these wild animals and their American counterparts. But my moments of sympathy are always overshadowed by a deep caution.

On the Train

2008-09-23T06:27:00.001-07:00

Recently I found myself standing on a train seat, singing a song in Chinese. Many of the other passengers had formed a circle around me, cheering me on and helping me sing.

This sounds more glamorous than it was.

It began with simple conversation. I was talking to others around me after they realized I could speak Chinese (I smiled at the right places during their conversation). We discussed the main 3 questions: Where are you from? What are you doing here? What do you think of this place?

All was usual of a train ride. I was poised to do what was necessary to promote harmony; I wore my Chinese skin. Carts rolled by with shouts of "水果，水果！“ (Fruit, fruit!) and the people who failed to purchase tickets early stood in the aisles with forlorn expressions.

The commotion began as a song.

People stood up to see. Others walked over. A crowd began to gather.

I remained in my seat and began to read my book. This will pass, I thought.

As more time passed however, the songs grew louder and more insistent. Chants rose from the animated passengers, ”再来一个！“ or, "Once more!" Curiosity turned into a conversation with myself, "I might as well find out what's going on, maybe I can learn something."

I stood up and turned around. Halfway down the car, where the revelers passed their train ride in good fun, a pair of eyes met my own. It was too late to sit down. That person had whispered to another, and so on, until all eyes were on me and everyone was yelling, ”过来，过来吧！“ (Come on over!), and suddenly I found myself standing in a circle of 20 Chinese College students and young adults, calling for a song. Despite my best efforts to convince them that I couldn't sing (this is true), they managed to learn that I knew a Chinese song (this is only partly true). And after much encouragement and coaxing, I found them ignoring my terrible voice, ignoring my wretched pronunciation, ignoring the forgotten words in the song, and, actually, singing along with me. I was an instant ”外国朋友“ (translates as "foreign friend," but I'd like to say "rock star").

By suffering the small embarrassment of my singing, I bought my way into watching that of so many others as they were cajoled, no, bullied to sing or dance or both, to the great entertainment of all.

It was one of the shortest train rides ever.

Military Training - 军训

2008-09-18T01:19:00.000-07:00

If you were raised in the western world then some of this may seem a little odd to you. Please remember that these are only my observations and thoughts; I do not mean to upset anyone.

For weeks now I have been trying to prepare a fair account of the compulsory military training that happens throughout China before students begin their college classes. Speaking to students, reading articles, and watching the training has given me a lot to think about. I remain uncertain about the true feelings and motives of the people who have orchestrated this annual welcome ceremony: the people in the upper echelons of the Chinese Communist Party.

I am certain about widespread student contempt for the activities based on interviews with them. When the occasional student says they enjoy the training it may be genuine and it may be meant to impress me. The student disapproval of this military drill instruction is largely due to the long hours and relentless standing and drilling, however, not because they have a fundamental disagreement in philosophy.

I have interviewed about ten students regarding the reason for military training and the answer is always a spirited, “To keep healthy and exercise.” Strangely, the military drilling includes virtually no component of exercise whatsoever. Instead of doing something that will help strengthen muscles or heart the students are constantly marching. Perhaps the “exercise,” they mean is related to the leg workout from standing for long periods of time. I have yet to see a group of students going for a long jog to improve their cardiovascular system.

So what’s the deal? I see several possibilities for the students to give this answer. The first is that they were told this throughout the training. Common in China is the pat answer for common questions.

Me: “How can we stop littering?”
Student: “Stop using disposable chopsticks.” [this is said as they are using disposable chopsticks]

Me: “Why do the Japanese have a history of attacking China?”
Student: “They are a small island country and they need to take resources from other countries.” [I have heard this more than ten times now]

Essentially Chinese students have been trained to respond to questions without having the understanding and synthesis required to make a sound argument about the issue. This is rooted in how characters are learned (memorization), and how learning is viewed (facts to be learned). Another encouraging factor is the Confucian tradition of following the group in the interest of social harmony.

Perhaps the students are embarrassed about what the military training is truly about: it’s more political than they would like to admit.

Personally I think the training is geared more towards the twofold aspect of discipline. A combination of self-governance and respect for authority (the party) is sought as students march to the beat of one drum. Self-discipline comes from enduring the training and making it, tearfully, to the end. The government sends People’s Liberation Army (PLA) officers to preside over groups of students as their trainers for the two to three weeks of drill. The time is so intense and difficult that many girls have fallen in love with their drill instructors by the end of the training, giving their phone numbers and their QQ instant message nicknames to the officers. The government recently re-wrote the guidelines to help prevent this kind of behavior from happening.

I think there is a real benefit to this training. Nobody gains much knowledge from the mind-numbing routine, but the students are prepared for a time when they would have to organize to defend their country. Nationalism runs thick in China and people are willing to make small sacrifices for this ideal. Over a decade ago this military training included trips to the countryside where students would fire guns. Though this practice is no longer in place, watching the students march in their camouflage uniforms offers little room for doubt: this is the beginning of training soldiers.

"2"

2008-09-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

The number of mosquitoes required to drag me itching and scratching from my bed in the middle of the night. (It is time to embrace my mosquito net)

The Condition of the English Building

2008-09-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

2008-09-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Texting at Night

2008-09-15T06:18:00.000-07:00

My Favorite Restaurant

2008-09-15T05:44:00.000-07:00

Last year I mentioned my favorite restaurant in a post. Shortly thereafter the walk became too long and the flies too many. Even after months of eating in a new restaurant people continued to ask me about the people in the blog photo. "Sorry, I really don't know," I would admit, "I don't eat there anymore." I have found a new family.

The "kitchen" is located at the front of a room, with two burners and a fan running throughout the day. The husband and wife take orders, scooping ingredients from bowls on the tables behind them. There is a fridge on the side that I've never seen them open.

Their children (a 5th grade boy and high school girl) help with cleaning and cooking duties when they are home from school.

If the main restaurant (two tables) is crowded there is a room downstairs (two more tables). At the back of this room is a large curtain that covers the living space (2 beds) for the family.

When I spit inedible things on the floor of the restaurant I rarely think about the fact that this is where they live. Thinking this way is unnecessary: it will all be swept up soon enough, and this is the culturally appropriate way to get rid of used napkins, bones, or spicy peppers.

Perhaps my favorite thing about this restaurant is the view of the neighbors. This was taken from my table:

Ping Pong

2008-09-15T05:29:00.000-07:00

The outdoor Ping Pong tables have finally been replaced. Now instead of 8 tables there are 14, inviting more people to play without having to stand in line. It has been nice to play there, but every time I went out I had to wonder: "What's with this fence?" At first it didn't seem to be a problem because the gate was wide open. Today, an official holiday in China, the gate was shut and locked. It prompts all sorts of questions:

1. Are they locking the gate to keep the tables from being stolen?
2. Are they worried that people will play too late?
3. Is there even a real reason for this?

I will pursue these questions further during this semester. It seems that stolen tables is highly unlikely, given they are bolted down. The worry that students will play too late is unfounded because there is inadequate light to support a game. The final question probably leads more to the truth. Someone, somewhere, has made a decision. Whether that decision was based on reason or not is entirely unclear. Perhaps there was some money allocated for the Ping Pong reconstruction and it was not entirely used. The extra money was then spent on a fence so that all of the money could be used. This is based on reason, though it doesn't seem very fiscally responsible.

Instead of building a fence, why not install four tall lampposts to provide light throughout the courts? I could play all night.

What do you think? Why have they installed the fence?

Game Club

2008-09-11T03:52:00.000-07:00

In an effort to take on more responsibility this year I have decided to start a game club. A game club provides opportunities for students to read and speak English, improving their overall communication skills (especially when a dispute is settled by referring to the direction booklet!). This is a chance for students to practice English in a low-stress environment, reducing their inhibitions to speak naturally.

I have a couple of chess sets and playing cards to get me started, but I need some help through donations of games. I would like to get some more "board" and "strategy" games, specifically (1) Settlers of Catan and (2) Monopoly, but any board games are welcome. Anyone willing to send games can contact me about this via email (fn0112358@gmail.com).

Also - if someone has a connection with someone who works at a game store or company and they might be able to get a deal please let me know.

Many, many thanks.

广播 (Broadcast)

2008-09-10T08:22:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you can't see what is attached to the edge of this building and that's OK because I'm going to tell you: they are loudspeakers - part of a public address (PA) system on the campus. These are used thrice daily to give news, celebrate birthdays, and make local announcements. They are useful for waking eager students up in the morning. However, they also wake not-so-eager students who don't have class until 10 a.m. They were used a week after the earthquake to project the sounds of that terrible day while students stood silent and motionless. They are probably the most normalizing aspect of my life here because they unconsciously tell me what time it is (either between 6:30 and 7:00, 12:00 and 12:30 or 6:00 and 6:30). The fact that I can barely understand the cracklings of the thin voice is ok with me, I am merely content that it plays regularly.

There has been talk that the foreign teachers will take an active role in these broadcasts. Within a few weeks we will be invited to give a short presentation in English about a topic of our choosing (I will chose "How to Study English"). After our presentation they will open a single hotline for students to ask follow-up questions. I'm already looking forward to the first phone call:

Caller: Hallo, I jab schion oregn echier - hwn you say zhat pelo, hao do you mine?
Translator: Excuse me, would you please speak Mandarin?
Caller: Oh, shahry, [more unintelligible speech]
[several minutes of back and forth]
Translator: Oh, what he wants to ask is, "How can [he] study English better?"
Me: Ummm... I just gave a presentation about that.
Translator: [Obviously confused about what to say] Oh.

And so on.

Actually, it will go much smoother than this (probably), but I am always suspect of things that have been organized in the Chinese fashion in Guizhou Province. Typically it means that either some or a lot of preparation has been done, but there are always wild cards that make one think, "Did they even begin to think about this event; where is the organization?"

I'm excited for this broadcast. My speech will have three main tenets: Practice, practice, practice.

English Lessons

2008-09-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

In one of my most successful lessons so far, my students got the opportunity to express themselves as they were and as they are.

I broke the class into several groups and gave each group a large piece of paper and markers. On the paper they were asked to represent themselves (some groups represented the typical primary school student, some did middle/high school, and others did college). The assignment was to draw a picture of a person who represented this group and write words to express your life at the time.

The results were eye-opening. Elementary representations included a school uniform and the thoughts that everything was wonderful: many friends and much happiness. The middle/high school representations showed students loaded down by books and included such words as "studying," "homework," and "serious." The college representations included cell phones and cool clothes. Words like "friends," "chatting," and "no money," covered these posters.

One of the students came to me and asked, "How do you say it in English when you say you are poor but you really are not poor." I tried to think and couldn't come up with anything so I just said, "Maybe we would just say 'liar'." Then she noted the poster that said, "no money." She said, "They write 'no money' on their poster, but I know these boys and they have money." It was interesting how this activity became different things for different people. Their poster helped her to practice her Oral English because she was personally interested in this dissonance. The affront became something that would help connect English phrases and words in her brain.

For other students the results were different. One student continually spoke in Chinese, despite repeated warnings. It took the threat of "Kou Fen," or, taking points, to finally convince her that English would be the appropriate means for communication in this Oral English class.

It was an activity that offered many chances to communicate with one another. It was interesting to most students, mostly because it was connected to their own lives. Like all experiences in class I told my students, "It's what you make of this time that will determine how good your Oral English becomes. Those of you who try will improve."

If you have something that would help my students practice their Oral English in a fun or unique way, please let me know. I don't know exactly what that might be, but the first thing that jumps into my mind are puppets!

Cheers!

The Freshmen Arrive

2008-09-10T07:44:00.000-07:00

These are exciting times on campus. The new students have mostly arrived, unpacked, and begun to look around at their new surroundings. The workers have been making a great effort to improve the buildings and environment of the campus. I passed the ping pong court on the way to the library yesterday and found 14 new tables in place of the 8 old ones. Happy day. The whole process reminds me of parent's weekend in college. The cafeteria only served the best foods that weekend and they even cut the grass on the quad. It's nice to see such eager faces again. Last year it was much the same until the incredible class load began to steal the life from many of my students.

Some of my students welcomed the new English Major students so they could help carry luggage. The sign says, "Foreign Language Department" or, literally, "Outside Language Department." (1)

The larger sign welcomes all students with the sentence, "Anshun College welcomes you!" (2)

The cell phone companies fought for business. It's really quite entertaining, especially when I pretend to be interested and they try to explain their calling plans. I don't even understand those in English. (3)

2008-09-07T18:06:00.001-07:00

My bookshelf

2008-09-07T08:21:00.000-07:00

During my time here in China I have found a number of enlightening books on Chinese thought, culture, events, history and politics. The following is a list of my favorites with some information about why you might find it interesting. (* Means I really think you might like it)

If you have questions about what to read because you are interested in reading more about some aspect of China, just send me an email (fn0112358@gmail.com). There are also countless Newsweek articles in the online archive that cover a range of topics related to Chinese society and economy.

River Town*
Peter Hessler

This is the first book I read about China. I read it before I left and again since I have been here (it was two different books!). It resonates because the author was not only a Peace Corps China Volunteer, but the book specifically discusses his experiences volunteering in Sichuan.

Oracle Bones
Peter Hessler

This is somewhat a follow-up of River Town. It follows Hessler’s work while in Beijing after Peace Corps. The style is like River Town with a combination of Autobiography and Chinese History. It is very readable non-fiction about China and the history connected to Oracle Bones.

The Rape of Nanking*
Iris Chang

This is one of the most eye-opening books that helps to explain the relationship between common Chinese people today and the Japanese. This is an event that few Westerners know about; one would be wise to try and understand it better.

Individualism and Collectivism
Harry C. Triandis

This is a very well researched book about the differences between collectivist and individualist societies. It analyzes these two aspects from many different angles, though it can be a bit dry at times. This is for anyone who wants to know more about the social science of individualism and collectivism.

Encountering the Chinese*
Cornelius Grove

This is by far the most readable book about everyday aspects of modern Chinese culture. For anyone interested in basic differences between Chinese and Americans, this is a good place to begin.

Chinese Lessons*
John Pomfret

This was a wonderful autobiography about a man who studied in China. He tells the stories of his classmates, most of whom were directly influenced by the excesses of the Cultural Revolution. Very readable.

China Wakes
Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl Wudunn
I am just finishing this book and it has been worth the read. The chapters alternate writers (they are husband and wife). This is probably the most openly critical book I have read about China. Aspects of current problems in certain *ahem* autonomous regions are also alluded to throughout the book.

China (Cambridge Illustrated History)
Patricia Buckley Ebrey

This is an illustrated history of China’s History, covering everything. As such, it treats most topics rather superficially (as a High School History textbook might), but provides amazing photographs and maps to help illustrate the location of “China” throughout the dynasties.

A Bitter Revolution
Rana Mitter

Mitter covers the modern Chinese developments beginning with the events surrounding the movement of 1919 and continuing to the present day. This is a book more about the politics of China during this period. The author spends most of his time arguing that the May 4th movement of 1919 was the defining moment for modern China (from which all things have been influenced).

Waterfall

2008-09-07T03:43:00.000-07:00

A Phone Call Away

2008-09-07T02:14:00.001-07:00

If you would like to call me it's actually very easy. My phone number is on the bottom of this page. Since it's probably a local number (for you), you will only be charged the local minutes your cell phone company gives you each month. Let it ring. Really - I think it averages 20 rings to get through. Unfortunately, I cannot call you back. This is a one-way system for now.

Waterfall

2008-09-07T00:18:00.000-07:00

This weekend I visited Huangguoshu waterfall, the largest waterfall in Asia and the 3rd largest in the world (don't ask me how they know, I have yet to get a clear answer on how it is measured). This attraction is only about an hour by bus from my city. To give you an idea about the importance of this attraction, the question, "Have you seen the waterfall," is used in approximately 90% of conversations I have. When I was at home this summer I talked to a few people in Chinese. They asked me where I lived in China, but when I said "Anshun," they looked puzzled. "Huangguoshu waterfall," I would say. That's all it took.

Funny Chinglish signs were everywhere. The sign on the bottom right inspired me to climb, considering there was no danger involved.

After leaving the waterfall we went to another place with a series of connected ponds in a heavily forested and rocky area. Birth markers were imprinted in the stones. I learned that Aron's birthday is the same as Mao Zedong's. Right on!

Rantings

2008-09-05T05:51:00.000-07:00

If I had the foresight to save every interesting or strange piece of information I found related to China then this post would actually be pretty good. Direct your attention toward the following, which I found on a website that not only gave information about Anshun, but tried to convince you that it would be a good stop on your way to... well... I mean, if you decided that you wanted...um... So the truth is that nobody comes here. To be honest this is due to marketing problems, the way the natural sites are set up, and the unwillingness of many travelers to experience an adventure. Anyway, this is what I stumbled upon:

Anshun Climate and Terrain

Anshun has a pleasant climate with an abundant of natural resources. The average temperature is around 15 centigrade. The highest elevation is 1,850 meters and the lowest is 365 meters. Mountainous area occupies 64.5% of the total area; hilly areas accounts for 27%; and dam area takes 8.5%. Within the boundary of Anshun, it is a humid subtropical monsoon climate. So people feel warm during any season.

At first sight it is a rather nice explanation of Anshun's climate and terrain. Continuing through the paragraph I came upon the last sentence: the sentence that I read, not two or three, but four times. Huddling next to a space heater throughout the last winter wasn't my idea of feeling warm during any season.

Perhaps I'm sending an email, updating my blog and I get a message on skype that says the following:

I am Kabore Mohamed from Africa; I have gold and diamond for sale. My friend have told me that I can see good market in your country, that is why I contact you for know your opinion so if not interested, please kindly help me find buyer in your country. Also, we have cashew nut and sesame for sale.

Now I don't need to rely on the Shane company to find a friend in the diamond business. An on the off chance that I were more of a cashew guy, I'm covered.

It was noted by another volunteer (AP) that the internet censorship seems to be less rigid now. I got the same feeling when websites like, say, this one, were no longer blocked. Get this: I can post information on the Internet for everyone to see without using a proxy server. Amazing, right? I can tell you what's happening without having to go through the annoying steps of surfing through a server in Europe and you can read the post before an underpaid Chinese Internet Security employee does.

On another note, I think I could dedicate an entire post to the interesting things I read in the China Daily. I'll get to work.

Returning

2008-09-03T04:16:00.001-07:00

The car was parked next to a large pile of rubble. A building that once stood, abandoned, is now gone. My attention was so focused on the change that it took several minutes of walking before I saw everything else: the deep ravine that swallowed an entire backhoe, the scaffolding surrounding the English Department, the workers using pushcarts to move furniture out of the Administration building and the man chipping away at the same building to expose the bricks underneath. All of these were signs of a college that is constantly changing. There were other signs too: The new ping pong tables stacked next to the old court, a basketball court renovation that includes new hoops, new courts and the fancy benches that surround them, and the ubiquitous marketing of cell phones and drinking water delivery services. The campus is a tent city where one cell phone company gives away free knick-knacks with the purchase of a new phone while their neighbor tries to think of another strategy.

This is a new campus; the best debris from broken buildings being moved to new construction sites off campus, business not conducted in legal zones because it’s worth the risk, considering the penalties. I would even like to make a case that I’m experiencing a microcosm of China. I don’t know why, but the contradictions seem to justify it. The new and the old stand together. The constant drive for development.

The day it took to get back proved to be an interesting transformation. On a plane with Chinese and Americans, bound for Beijing, I found the atmosphere to be a blend of English and Chinese. Most of the Chinese people on the flight also spoke English. The Chinese flight attendants spoke with near-native proficiency. On the plane from Beijing to Guiyang, however, I suspect the flight attendants were reading the English guidelines from a placard (I also had the awkward feeling that they were reading those guidelines just for me, as I was the only foreigner on the plane). While the plane taxied towards the terminal the people unfastened their seatbelts and began pulling their luggage from the overhead compartments despite the specific request not to do so. I knew, then, that I had arrived, but when I stood up and saw 10 passengers unabashedly staring at me I was absolutely certain.

The last couple of days have been a focus upon preparing for my semester. The freshmen have not yet arrived for their military training, but my sophomores are already attending classes and wondering about the upcoming year. Some students have decided to move off campus so that they can cook for themselves: a luxury not granted to dorm-dwellers. I saw students carrying a thermos, reminding me that a bar of soap, some hot water and a cloth are the only things one needs to delay a shower indefinitely. There were distant echoes of an ominous winter, but the sun blocked out all of those thoughts.

Going for a run I discovered Anshun once again. I found the many staring people sitting outside their shops (converted from their homes). The rice paddies still seem to crowd the city and not the other way around. Down a rural street, surrounded by fields, I am running. Up ahead, children are swimming in an irrigation lake to escape the heat. A child, perhaps as a joke, begins running along with me, burdened by his backpack. We speak a bit in Chinese and he invites me to swim. I decline and he waves goodbye, veering toward the small lake. I try to think about a new year.

Going Back to China

2008-08-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

So maybe my last post was a little unfair. Or a lot.

I had just returned to America after 13 months in China and I was a little shocked. You know, culturally. But I have come to terms with that: I now know that when someone tells me to move out of their way it's because they are being direct and I am in their way, not because they are presenting a challenge to fight to the death. I will walk faster. I will be on time. Thank you for your help. I didn't even throw toilet paper in the garbage can once since coming home!

I have also found that my 4 favorite phrases do not work as well in America. I am referring to those four phrases that can help one evade any social situation (almost):
"I have friends waiting for me."
"I am a little busy."
"That's not convenient."
"I have something to do."

These are the magic phrases. Responding to them with questions is unacceptable in China, and these little white-lie phrases help make life smoother for me. After a long conversation with a Chinese man I had just met, he asked me for my phone number. "It's not convenient," I replied. And it was done. Over. No problem.

"It's not convenient," I said to my mother regarding the mysterious growing stack of dishes and her request that I load them in the dishwasher. "No," I think to myself while loading the dishes after losing an argument, "You're not supposed to question me after I say that!"

"I have friends waiting for me," I say to a friend in Seattle. The response? "What friends, what are their names? Where are you meeting them?" These questions are unacceptable because I don't have the answers, I'm just looking for some time to myself.

I've found that I have been unable to use this experience to my advantage. "I have not culturally adjusted to mowing the lawn," and "Clean my room? We certainly don't do that in China," are weak arguments in a land where argument and reason trump harmony.

After all of this adjustment I'm hoping that going back will be a smooth transition. Weighing the relative merits of things will probably be a balancing act, like it was coming home. Everything was expensive here, but so incredibly easy. Everyone stands in line, but that means I don't get a chance to muscle my way to the front.

I know that I'll miss all of the people I got a chance to see again. The moment I saw Seattle I knew I wanted to go back (98% sure). I feel really connected to the work I've already done and to the work I have yet to complete in the next year. That includes the people in my community, my students, and fellow volunteers. But I also feel a distant longing to come home. It's really not quite so long this time: I have less time left than time I've served.

I think I wanted this post to be a "Thank You" to everyone for everything, but it turned into a disorganized discussion about something else. Thanks to everyone for putting me up, buying me meals, and putting up with me. See you next year!

Coming home

2008-08-10T12:28:00.000-07:00

After days of travel I stepped into the San Francisco International Airport. This was the breakdown: Hour and a half bus from Anshun to Guiyang. 19 hour train from Guiyang to Chengdu. 3 hour plane from Chengdu to Beijing. 12 hour plane from Beijing to San Francisco. The final leg being a less impressive 1 hour flight from San Francisco to Portland.

Despite going through customs in S.F. I had to go through the general metal detector and bag-check routine before boarding my connecting flight to Portland. Standing in line was like being involved in some kind of important mission. The airport security officers were running people through the metal detectors like food in a processing plant. My turn came and a woman asked me, “Do you have your boarding pass?” I casually checked my front pocket and, after, other pockets, all without finding it. “No, it’s going through there,” I said, pointing at the bag checking machine. “Hey, Roger, check him. Make sure he has a boarding pass. Did you hear me? If he doesn’t have a boarding pass he goes back to the end of the line.” She said it with such authority; it was as if I were supposed to know something about this process. I showed Roger the boarding pass and began the process of putting all of my clothes back on (belt, shoes, etc.) when Roger yelled at me. “Pick up all of your stuff and get out of everyone’s way.” I laughed in his face. I didn’t mean to. I was just suddenly and thoroughly surprised at how rushed everyone felt. I could feel the ulcers people were developing by looking at the expressions on their faces and listening to the demanding tones in their voices. Roger’s boss came over and yelled at me next. “You heard him, get your things together. Stop picking things up one-thing-at-a-time, grab everything, and move out of the way.” I was thoroughly upset. I turned to a Chinese man who was also gathering his things and said to him in Chinese, “China is better, people here are too rushed and too rude.” Luckily Roger’s boss didn’t speak Chinese. When he yelled at me a final time, telling me to get moving, I calmly explained how my final bag needed to be rescanned and that I would like to wait for it thank-you-very-much.

This is the first thing I noticed coming home. The directness of people in their individual quests for whatever it was they were doing. How would this story be different in China? The woman would have asked if I had my boarding pass, then she would have helped me to find it. Roger would have asked if I needed help moving my things to a different place (so I would not be in anyone’s way), and I would be expected to understand that he meant for me to hurry up (and expected to politely turn down his offer). Roger’s boss would not have existed.

This is only a small part of the story that is my first time in America in 13 months. Other than this I have experienced little “reverse culture shock.” I did find myself in the bathroom at one point, wondering why I felt compelled to steal all of the toilet paper and stash it for future use. These silly Americans were putting the stuff in each stall for anyone to take! The bathroom proved to be somewhat of a double-whammy when I found that I could, without fee, use a soap dispensing box that was fixed to the wall next to the sink. I almost took a shower immediately, but instead just washed my hands before coming my hair for 15 minutes (to the surprise of several people).

Walking through the airport I laughed to myself. I was grinning for most of the time, actually. The people and prices and products all captured my attention. It was the first time I felt myself caught in wonder for quite some time. People were standing in lines. And they didn’t cut one another. Amazing.

There have been other things. I am still internalizing it all. I am still adjusting to the time. I am still a little lost.

Overall, I am happy to be home. For now.

A post... finally! Summer Project!

2008-07-26T07:03:00.000-07:00

Due to faster internet connections and relaxed c3ns0rsh1p in Kunming (Yunnan Province) I am able to make postings. My school in Anshun disconnected its network to save money over the summer, so I am unable to publish anything online. The internet cafe down the road uses a heavy blog filter, preventing me from accessing blogspot. It may seem that I am being lazy when it comes to my blog, but really I have been completely blocked.

The last two weeks have been the most wonderful and intense weeks I have experienced in China. Volunteers gathered in groups of 4 to teach at various rural sites throughout Guizhou. Bethany, Dave, Jessica and I gathered in Zhenning to participate in a training whose goal was to improve the English of rural elementary school teachers and give them ideas for teaching their students (i.e. western teaching methods). Due to the fact that the teachers do not know much about lesson planning, classroom management, fostering creativity, or speaking English, our job was anything but easy.

The first week of the training included two near-breakdowns in the hotel while planning for morning lessons and one broken bone while running after a woman wearing high heels. Late night planning was the norm, and typically we were up until midnight. Our days were rigidly structured, including a schedule with such translated titles as "Time for getting up (7:00)," "Supper (12:00-12:30)," "Time for taking nap (12:30-2:30) and "Time for free talking (7:45-8:30)." The teaching day was split into morning and afternoon lessons, both of which were 3 hours.

When we first arrived we thought it would be useful to review some of our original lessons plans from our colleges, adapting them to meet the needs of these teachers. During the initial assessment we quickly realized that it would be impossible. Half of the teachers were unable to respond to questions like, "What do you like to do in your free time," "How old are you," and "What's your name?" Eventually we decided to teach lessons from the elementary textbooks, giving the teachers different western models for teaching elementary students.

A little background is required here. Elementary teaching in China is unique in a couple of respects: Size and style. Classes are comprised of around 80 students crammed into a small room. Lessons are delivered in a stand-and-deliver format. Discipline follows deviation from the listen-repeat teaching style. In short, large class sizes have forced rural teachers to take refuge in behavioral education that does little to promote creativity, kinesthetic learning, or emotional attachment to new information.

During the mornings I taught teachers how to teach their students 'animals', 'ABCs', and 'review' using various methods. I ran across the classroom, acted out the sounds and behaviors of various animals, and acted exactly as an 8-year-old would if given control over the classroom (probably breaking a few cultural norms in the process). The teachers were very receptive of learning new methods and games, improving their own teaching through this training.

Our hosts were instructed to watch us and protect us. Each of us was assigned one person to monitor and learn from us. Each person had their own watcher. These were good people who did their best to help us in every way they could, but the lack of any independence became apparent when we weren't allowed to leave the hotel without surveillance. Despite repeated protests, we were almost completely restricted from independence (we were given time to plan). We requested to eat lunch on our own, but the reply was, "Maybe you will get sick if you eat outside the hotel." It took an entire week before we were given a day of freedom. Even this short time was interrupted by phone calls and constant worries about our safety and whereabouts. I have never felt so imprisoned.

We were given the pleasure of a weekend trip to some nearby caves: a trip in which we were herded through underground passages while we dreamed of home, independence, family and friends.

Despite several delays (our cultural skills provide some advantages) we were eventually forced to sing out-of-key Karaoke, an experience made difficult when you're reading the lyrics to "take me home country roads" through thick tears of fruitless longing for home and freedom.

But things went well too. The stress made life difficult, but we banded together. We ate chocolate and ice cream, listened to music, and made jokes throughout the evening as we laughed, cried and planned lessons collaboratively. I learned a lot about myself: my abilities and limitations. I learned how to ask for help and why to give it.

I'm coming home soon. It's only a of couple weeks away. See you soon.

Culture

2008-07-04T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have alluded earlier to the differences between the China of this interior region and the China of the Coastal region. There are many more differences than this standard, oversimplified generalization, but for the sake of a brief discussion I'd like to use it. One of the posts was an invitation to those who would be in Beijing during the Summer Olympics. I stressed that there were differences between the "two Chinas," and encouraged people to venture inland. What I haven't much talked about are the differences that we experience as volunteers and the differences someone who has never been to China might see.

When we arrived for training one year ago, the very first place we saw was the Beijing airport. I was immediately shocked by my surroundings and I thought that the place was a little underdeveloped. After catching a connecting flight, we landed in Chengdu. I was even more troubled by the crowds of people and seeming disorganization, not to mention the condition of the airport itself. Arriving at our hotel, a sign read "Don't drink the water," and it was directed at the 65 volunteers who were lugging several heavy suitcases through a line to pick up our name-tags at 3 a.m. before we officially slept for the first time in about two days. We moved in with our host families and became accustomed to our lives there. We learned to accept the conditions of the colleges at which we received language, cultural and technical training.

And then, two months later, we visited our sites. It wasn't too long: just a week to get acquainted with our surroundings and meet the right people. We went back to Chengdu and made final preparations for our move to our new homes. Some people didn't have much readjustment to do. They lived in cities where other PCVs could be found, or even other foreigners. Places like Chongqing, Chengdu, Guiyang and Lanzhou became different to me. At first they were places I compared with America, but now they are places I compare with Anshun. At first they were elusive places with strange customs, but now they are beacons which harbor small luxuries that do not exist in Anshun (mostly food).

In my daily life I see, hear and smell a lot of things that I no longer notice. These things have become a part of the daily milieu into which I have integrated (even if hundreds of staring Chinese have not). What happens is that we get together, the PCVs, I mean. We meet and talk about our experiences and our teaching and our lives. Inevitably we make comparisons with things in America or someone will make an argument that something is "wrong" with how China works. I have become increasingly sensitive to these statements because people are making some fundamental mistakes in their reasoning. I have begun my own argument.

China is big. China is filled with different places and different people. Although there are certain aspects of culture that permeate the deepest hill countries and most backwater towns, the differences are often a result of economic hardship or harsh landscape. The truly difficult distinction is when an event occurs which cannot be separated from culture, just as it cannot be separated from poverty. When poverty and culture intertwine, the scenario becomes something that even someone in Beijing or Shanghai would watch with curiosity. The China that many volunteers see on a daily basis is the China in which the land and poverty and culture come together to more completely conceal the reasons for certain actions. This stretches across a continuum: from the street to businesses and actions taken by people in a school who are trying to solve a problem. Each place will have its own unique reasons for doing things or making certain decisions.

When people from the outside look in, there are certainly differences between the "two Chinas." These differences might be a bit different for people who are watching from outside, and people who are living inside. I never wanted to presumptuously claim that one China is "real" or not. They are merely different.

Anniversary

2008-07-02T01:48:00.000-07:00

This is just to say
I have lived in China
for one year
It was so sweet
and
so cold

Ping Pong

2008-06-29T23:47:00.000-07:00

Spider in my bathroom

2008-06-27T17:09:00.000-07:00

I found an even larger one hiding in my mop with approximately 15 baby cockroaches. In one of my most candid, clearheaded speeches of the year, I openly declared war in my bathroom. The shelling begins tomorrow.

Hospital (2)

2008-06-27T07:40:00.000-07:00

At about 5:00 in the afternoon I began to have stomach pains. I had just begun Oral English interviews with students. By 7:00 p.m. the pains had become markedly worse. I conducted all of the interviews just outside Bethany’s apartment because it was a sunny day. I went inside and drank some water.

By 8:30 p.m. I had thrown up in Bethany’s bathroom, and I was trying to remain motionless on the bed as my stomach continued to get worse. At around 10:30 p.m. I could no longer handle the pain and, in a plaintive voice, asked Bethany to call the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) in Chengdu. The details of these phone calls are very hazy. Actually, from 10 p.m. Wednesday until 6 a.m. Thursday I can remember specific events, but their order and what happened during the gaps I cannot recall exactly. I remember the pain that would not go away and instead got worse and worse.

Through a series of phone calls between the foreign affairs representative, the deans of the English Department, my counterpart, and the medical staff in Chengdu, a car was arranged to take me to the hospital. I remember a fog of incidents that were designed to discover what was wrong with me: drawing my blood (my white blood cell (leukocyte) count was around 12,000), taking an x-ray (there seemed to be a bright white spot on the photo that alerted the doctor), a series of stomach probes to determine if there was a problem with my appendix, an ultrasound, and, finally, an intravenous drip feed which included several different medications.

Throughout this time I was almost completely non-communicative. Walking through the halls I would moan because the pain was so excruciating. The two deans from the English Department had met us at the hospital and they stayed with me until around 3 a.m. The foreign affairs representative, the deans, and even the driver helped to support me as I walked from ward to ward for different tests. At one point I had to get in the car to be transported to a different ward in the same hospital (the campus included several different buildings) and another time I was taken to a different building to go to the bathroom. The pain had taken away all of my inhibitions and dignity. I was pathetic.

Of my surroundings I remember the green tiles on the walls the best. The long, old hallways brought back feelings from my childhood, but I cannot remember exactly why the hospital seemed so familiar. The bed sheets were dirty and they asked for new sheets before I started my IV. I had to go to the bathroom again at some point, and the foreign affairs representative helped me by carrying my IV down the hall and into the bathroom (the IV stands were made of wood and had no wheels). When I got back to my bed, the blood from my arm had filled the bottom part of the IV system and wouldn’t go back into my arm. The nurse seemed upset and she disconnected the plastic in the center of the IV, sprayed my extra blood on the floor beneath my bed, and reconnected the IV. It started to work again.

By the time I woke up the next morning I had slept for around 2 hours, but the pain had decreased significantly. After taking blood again and determining that my leukocyte count was still too high (10,000), the doctor recommended that I stay in the hospital for more treatment. The PCMO agreed and I spent the day watching bottle after bottle replaced during my second round of treatment. After going to the bathroom on one occasion, my hand started to develop a bump where fluid was gathering and the IV had stopped. The nurse put a new IV in my other hand and it continued: glucose, some kind of sodium chloride solution, and several different medications. That night they took more blood, but my leukocyte count remained high. I was told to stay another night.

The next morning, after more phone calls between the PCMO and the attending doctor at the hospital, I was told that I might be able to go home. A fourth blood test was done and it came back with a leukocyte count of around 5,000. I left the hospital and went home.

What was wrong with me? This question is difficult to answer specifically, though a general answer to the question is that food led to this problem. Earlier in the day, I made fried Chinese cabbage and rice. I probably used too much oil, and the cabbage led to a buildup of gas in my intestines. The question of whether there was a blockage or not was never answered.

Throughout this ordeal I was taken care of by people from the college. My site-mate, Bethany, accompanied me to the hospital, the foreign affairs representative arranged for the car to take me to the hospital and, when I arrived, the deans were waiting to help in any way they could (and it was around 12:30 or 1:00 a.m.). The next morning students began to arrive with bananas and their class textbooks. My counterpart brought me a large bouquet of flowers and a stuffed-animal goat with a scarf. My counterpart stayed with me for the entire day, contacting the PCMO when needed, talking with the doctor, and making sure I had anything and everything I needed to be comfortable. Students came and went, although one of my freshmen students spent the night in the hospital.

All of the bills (excepting the first registration fee) were covered by the school. Peace Corps will reimburse them later, but it is a requirement to pay for things as they are provided. The x-ray, ultrasound, blood tests, doctor fees, room fee, etc. were paid for, essentially, as they were provided. China’s health care system changed from one of almost universal access to that of “show the money and we’ll help you out.”

The experience was very unpleasant. The conditions were generally satisfactory, although I think they could have been much better. Trying to navigate the squat toilet with an IV in one hand and the bottle in the other is something I don’t want to do again any time soon. The first morning a woman came into the hall where I was sleeping, pulled out a bedpan, and made use of it. The smell of the bathroom wafted into the room where I stayed the second day and night, and people kept coming and going.

There were two other beds in my room, though I think there was only one other patient. He was an older man. I don’t know why he was in the hospital, but he had a type of catheter in his belly and he had a terrible cough during the night. Through this experience I saw how culture affected hospital stays in China. The family stayed with the old man around the clock. There were 3 people who were almost always with him, and when any of them left other family members or friends would arrive to talk with him or help out in some way. They brought their food from home and cooked it in the hospital. They helped him wash and they changed his IV.

The leader of our department could not teach during the last year because he has cancer. He was in a different ward and during a walk my counterpart invited me to go with her to visit him. I remember meeting him at the banquet when I first arrived at the school. He was a very thoughtful person who spoke in smooth, deliberate sentences. He was the biggest teacher in the English department as well.

His room had 8 beds. His wife was busy cooking dinner when we arrived. He recognized me and we spoke for a few minutes about basic things (why I was in the hospital, how my semester was, etc.). I noticed that he was markedly thinner. He was wrapped in a blanket, though the room was somewhat warm. After visiting him, my counterpart said that he was very happy to see me (they had spoken some Chinese that I didn’t understand). I felt very sad, though I hardly know the man.

In my spare time I studied Chinese and slept. My students kept me company by talking with me or teaching me card games. I explored, in some sense, a piece of Chinese collectivism at work. Students left their classes or skipped them to come and see me. I expect that certain students were expected to come and see me to fulfill a duty. I don’t say this to diminish the courtesy of their visits, but to show how the Chinese classroom works. Besides, I may be wrong about the students being expected to come.

Each class has a monitor who is in charge of the affairs of the class. They are the overall leader of the class and most seem to take their jobs very seriously. As I found out one day, there are other types of jobs as well: cleaning monitor, teaching materials monitor, etc. (perhaps there are 10 different jobs). It generally falls upon the leader to communicate with others or represent the class when things happen (if a student is ill, etc.).

When I got back to the school I met several students along the road to my apartment. They asked how I was doing. I met a student who had already visited me in the hospital and she said, “Oh! The other class is going to see you right now. There are 20 students.” She called one of the students and told them that I had left of the hospital. So they went shopping instead. That’s another aspect of Chinese culture: the ability to roll with the situation. Generally there is a more fatalistic bent to their thinking.

I bought some gruel at the store next to the school gate. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, opened the door, sat on my couch, and ate for the first time in 45 hours, happy to be home again.

Update

2008-06-24T09:06:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've written about something that's going on in my life. A more typical blog post seems to be about some strange event at the grocery store. Actually, today I was walking on the sidewalk and a man was laying on his back. This was right in the middle of the sidewalk. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be foaming at the mouth just a little bit. I looked up at the storefronts to see if there was perhaps some window from which he had fallen or jumped, but it was boarded up. Everyone was keeping their distance and staring at him. In China, it's pretty common for arguments and thefts and, well, any event to be surrounded by passive onlookers who will not intervene. Sometimes I find myself drawn to these scenes, staring along with everyone else. I feel that I have integrated. Honestly, though, don't hold this against me in America. I need someone to volunteer as my cultural liaison so that I don't spit on the floor of a Pizza Hut or knock somebody down because they looked like they were about to cut in line.

Back to the story: Actually, the story is happening now more than it was happening at the time. I'm recalling all of these details about the man only now that I think back to this afternoon. At the time of the incident, I took in the scene and evaluated possibilities within 5 seconds before completely ignoring the man except to note that I had to step a little higher to clear his left leg. I won't go into the details of how I knew to keep walking, but if you ask me in person I will happily share.

Lately my students have been preparing for their final exams. I'm giving Oral English/Listening interviews (15 minutes per student) in which the students are graded according to a rubric including fluency, pronunciation, sentence structure use (from what we learned in class) and overall understanding. Reading and Literature tests will also be given. This entire show begins today, Wednesday, and ends next Friday.

On July 15th I will be going to the countryside with two other PCVs to teach English to rural teachers for two weeks. More on this in a future post. Promise.

August heralds the beginning of a 1 week countdown to a 3-week visit to the lovely America: land of high-speed highways and other methods of organization, sanitation, and efficiency.

I'll tell you a secret. I don't really feel like I've been here nearly a year. Another secret? America feels like it isn't real anymore. I only remember about 3 things: family, friends, and stuffed crust cheese pizza. The third became a less-than-fond memory during my last visit to Guiyang when I ate so much cheese that I got sick. I guess my body was not accustomed to dairy after it was deprived for so long.

Despite all of that water between China and America, I talk to my parents enough that it feels a little more like a Seattle-Portland separation sometimes.

During the one-week countdown is a flurry of activity in Chengdu: Medical Exam, Dental Exam, Presentation to the new PCVs about how to teach without technology (or, making more with less), and watching the new PCVs teach lessons during their model school experience.

And after all that? Finals, Teaching in the countryside, Medical exams, Presentations and returning to America? Return to China for year 2.

Egg Fried Rice

2008-06-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

Weapon of Choice

2008-06-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

I believe in some sort of mysterious harmony within athletics. There must be some unifying force (a kind of qi, perhaps?) that can defines the hidden beauty of sports.

My style is that of a very uncoordinated elephant after drinking too much coffee: bumbling. But at times my hand will strike out at the ball as it is falling, only two feet from the ground, and send it back to the opposite side of the table. With a flick of the wrist an ordinary return becomes something else: a slight advantage. Building upon these advantages slowly will yield an opportunity to smash the ball at such velocity that the opponent must turn in defeat and retrieve it.

My weapon of choice is the little known LiBaPai international paddle (2008-E) with dual-side standard rubber. I prefer using the smooth side, while all of my opponents choose the black (red seems to be a little more comfortable for some reason). This paddle is little known only on the college campus. It's probably the best known among primary schools and middle schools throughout China because it's one of the cheapest. At three dollars for a pair, walking out to the ping pong tables turns heads not because I'm a foreigner, but because even the students paid at least 4 times as much for their average paddles. One of the things that drew me in was the inlay on the handle. Look carefully and read backwards:

I hold the paddle differently since I came here. I hold it more like the traditional notion of how Chinese people would hold a ping pong paddle and, indeed, how most students at the college hold the paddle. In other words, I am completely out of style:

The more common grip involves a constant backhand return which is very awkward at first, but common in professional circles:

One of these days I'll get a video together of some very intense ping pong action.

The Finer Things

2008-06-18T06:59:00.000-07:00

I live in rural China. I’m not talking about an outhouse with a pig in the backyard, tramping up and down terraced rice paddies to buy my vegetables, but let’s say that things like bread, coffee, chocolate, pasta, cheese, real ice cream, vegemite, and peanut butter are luxuries. Some are nonexistent (vegemite and cheese), some have a degree of falsity (sugary bread, instant coffee, carob chocolate), and some are downright expensive (6 yuan for a Magnum ice-cream bar?).

I’m not trying to point my finger at anyone: I know that there are plenty of specialties Chinese people would have trouble finding in the United States. It’s just, there’s no reason for me to discuss which parts of a pig might not be waiting at the local Albertson’s.

Actually, the point is to bask in the things I do enjoy here. There are foods I’ve found that cannot go unmentioned because to do so would be kind of like forgetting to thank your friend for bailing you out of jail, especially if your friend fails to appreciate the intrinsic reward of helping to free you from what was obviously an unjust incarceration.

Topping the list without question is Dove Chocolate. In my neck of the woods, the closest thing to Dove is Mylikes Chocolate, which, as it turns out, my really don’t likes (the truth is, I don’t like Mylikes Chocolate for the very same reason that I don’t like candle wax). The extent which Dove Chocolate has captured my heart can be seen on my Peace Corps living allowance survey, where “chocolate parties” is listed under entertainment and the cost is too embarrassing to divulge here.

Dove Chocolate bars come in two different styles. I classify the styles as “flavors” and “stuffers.” Flavors include dark chocolate, chocolate, and white chocolate. Stuffers include a regular chocolate bar with “stuff” added. The stuff ranges from almonds and hazelnuts to little bits of coffee, depending on the label. Let me explain which kinds of chocolate I like by telling you the following: white chocolate is disgusting. If you eat white chocolate I genuinely feel sorry for you. No amount of early-age indoctrination could have convinced me that eating white chocolate is not a sin. The sanctity of chocolate has been ravaged by the perpetuated lie that white chocolate is actually chocolate. It’s like saying that broccoli is actually broccoli chocolate, then stepping back to wait for your children to eat it as they eye it distrustfully, except that broccoli actually doesn’t taste half as bad as white chocolate, especially broccoli with a little cheese, which I don’t have in Anshun. The invention of white chocolate has emboldened me to make outrageous claims like, “I can fly,” and when people question me skeptically I point at a white “chocolate” bar and say, “You let THEM get away with it!”

By now you probably guessed how I feel about Dove Chocolate bars “stuffed” with various nuts. In case you haven’t, these bars are a last-resort if the shelves are devoid of dark chocolate or regular chocolate. Even if this is the case, I belittle the chocolate bar the entire way home, to make sure it knows it’s not wanted. I do this aloud to further bolster my resolve against chocolates that are obviously embellishing delusions of grandeur. Besides, the addition of nuts or coffee chunks is a flagrant violation of “getting your money’s worth.” We could compare the price per pound of real Dove Chocolate (flavor: chocolate) to a pound of hazelnuts to get a better idea, but I’m still so angry at the persistent fraud of white “chocolate” that I can’t think clearly anymore.

Teacher Training: Chengdu (and reflections)

2008-06-18T05:18:00.000-07:00

Last Friday I found myself, once again, packing my backpack for a trip to Chengdu. This would be my fourth trip back to my training site in the last 11 months: no small number considering the train ride is an overnight, 18 hour ride through the countryside. The journey itself can't be viewed in that context, however, because the scenery is an entire window away. Most of the trip is sitting through a smoke-filled train as people ignore the no smoking signs and light cigarettes. It is a hot, stuffy, torpid slog beset with gawking Chinese people muttering "Foreigner," to one another and smiling as if there was some big joke about the fact that my skin is a different color. Honestly, riding the train is all of these things. That is, unless there are other Peace Corps Volunteers riding with you (there were 3).

Our trip was a little more "What's new with you?" listening to long stories of adaptation and, eventually, what amounted to our acceptance that we had settled in - we were here at last. These trips are smoothed by the fact that we are together in this smoky cage; we are looking out for one another. This is the comfort that leads people in larger cities to become a part of the expatriate crowd, drawn to the easy expatriate lifestyle.

The training itself was to prepare several of the volunteers to help the new Peace Corps China volunteers who will arrive in early July. Each volunteer had selected a subject for the Peace Corps list for presentation. Todd and I will teach "Scarcity and Abundance - How to make the most with no resources or abundant resources." The range of resource availability probably matches that of future volunteers (from chalkboard and chalk to projector and computer).

The training was taxing, and on more than one occasion I found myself wondering when we would actually talk about our sessions with one another. While passing a rubber band with a straw in my mouth I thought, "This is a metaphor for working together, how interesting," before I began to analyze how the metaphor actually breaks down because it was obviously a strait-line activity which resembled top down command and delegation rather than teamwork. But my pessimism waned when the afternoon was dedicated to talking about our future sessions (how would we unify without repeating information, what were we going to teach, were there any suggestions?).

There were occasions when I argued with other volunteers. "Perhaps you should mention something about the different values related to materialism," I suggested.
"You mean how our students are so materialistic?" she asked.
"What?! No! How we are materialistic as Americans," I responded.
"Oh, I don't know about your students, but mine are very materialistic." she said.

And though I doubt that she has a true understanding of her own students when it comes to true materialism (especially when compared to any American), I do not doubt that there are differences between our colleges.

"Maybe you should consider talking to my site-mate, whose literature students don't speak English," I said to another volunteer presenting 'How to Teach Shakespeare in China.' Everyone laughed because they thought I was being funny.
"I'm not joking," I said. The room was quiet. They were embarrassed for me. Surely the students spoke English: how else would my site-mate teach them literature?
"I'd like to see that - I'm really interested in how she does that," he said.

I really do wonder if he cares, however. It seems that the people in larger cities have students who are able to do so much more. The attitudes are different. The levels of English are different. I found myself actually feeling jealous of their situations. I want to talk about the big questions. I'm tired of mundane conversations for practicing sentence structures. I felt left behind in my little corner of the world.

On the way home I pondered. I thought of all the time I've spent here. I thought of the frustrations and the successes. Wondering if I have been worthwhile to the students, the idea that my role is different that I originally thought is a recurring theme.

I haven't enjoyed teaching here like I did in America. Let me say this carefully: I have enjoyed it, but the rewards are so different. Often I have felt that the students look upon me as a teacher with a lack of experience (a death sentence in the Chinese classroom). My elementary experience is seen as not the same and there is a contingent of students who think the classes are boring (lately I have joined them - it's hard to get them motivated with a dated article from their textbooks about recycling).

My role has constantly changed, without changing at all. I have always been an English teacher, and things will remain this way until I return to America. My attempts to help people in Wenchuan, the area hit hardest by the May 12th earthquake, were met with a redirection by staffers in the Peace Corps office ("perhaps there is something a little closer to your site that you can help with"). And there was something - a flood just outside our city. I spoke with the foreign affairs official at my school and he said he would talk with someone higher-up. I have yet to hear back, despite repeated visits to his office to broach the subject. I am available to raise money and help the community, but there is not even a phone call after weeks of waiting. It goes back to the reason we are here, the reason that is cited again and again by Chinese officials: Just do your best to teach English. A message is being sent to me: stop bothering everyone with my desire to find another Chinese tutor (a request made more than 10 times since I began asking 7 months ago). Stop wanting to do anything else and just teach English.

But what if that's not going so well? I wonder to myself. I need something else because languishing in a sea of uninterested students and uninspired teaching is making me weary. The Peace Corps has 3 goals when they enter any country, and goals 2 and 3 have become my new favorite things. I cling to them relentlessly as I watch the school-year draw to a close.

I'm looking ahead to the fall: a new year with new students, new classes and new hopes. A fresh start.

Awkward Moments?

2008-06-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

"What have been the most situations for you in China?" my new student tutor asked me in Chinese.

Hmmm...is now the time to express everything? Do I know him well enough? Should I tell him about how angry I get sometimes? The anger at some of the most stupid situations: the cutting in line, the rude people unaccustomed to foreigners to the extent of xenophobia, the people whose view of a foreigner is a little more along the lines of 'foreign devil' or even 'foreign friend' rather than just 'friend'? Let me start a little more gently, I decide.

"Well sometimes people call me a few hours before a meeting or event. It's very inconvenient and usually I don't go because I already have other plans. The person generally seems upset when I say I can't make it - that really bothers me."

"Is that all?" he asks, "anything else?"

The "hellos" at the back of my head? The children shouting 'foreigner' at me as if I were the antagonist in a scary folk tale about a foreigner that eats little Chinese kids? The cutting the cutting the cutting in line!? And do you want to know how I deal with this? I tell them to slow down! I yell at them: 'you relax and do everything else in your life slowly, so why does the sight of other people make you forget all of your manners and rush to trample me?'

No, no. Saying something else would be better.

"Sometimes Chinese people correct what I say, but instead of helping me, they correct everything. It takes me ten minutes to say 'where are you going?' with the proper tones, even though they would have understood me fine despite my poor pronunciation. I don't see the need for this constant correction, even if I say something imperfectly."

He nods his head, contemplating what I've said. I wonder if he's thinking along the same lines. I wonder if he knows how it feels sometimes. Maybe that's why he brought this up - maybe he's waiting to hear this. I decided not to talk about this, however.

The truth is, sometimes I do want to shout. Sometimes I feel like turning over tables and drawing a picture of a line of people and explaining how delayed gratification is received through the knowledge that consistency will win out. Sometimes I want to yell, "This is a society, not a fight for resources - aren't we beyond that!?"

I have never experienced such acute anger in my life. China has brought out some of the worst in me. In a way, China has pushed me a great deal.

And I've never been so thankful. The storm of emotional unpredictability, this torrent of negative emotions has helped me to better understand who I am and what I can endure. I know through and through the differences between China and America have reasons for their existence. I have learned that the culture is so different and so difficult to understand that personally, sometimes I must throw up my hands and make a rude comment.

None of this will prevent me from the realizing my deepest feelings: My love for and interest in China's remarkable culture. The people are different. Most of them, like any place in the world, are good. And while I will remain frustrated with so much, in my mind's eye I see future arguments with American friends as I defend the actions of the Chinese people and government. I see myself becoming upset with someone's arrogant, narrow view of Chinese culture and launching into a tirade about the fundamental differences between collectivism and individualism.

So when my tutor asks me about awkward moments, I know there have been plenty. But I am certain that they have been necessary: a hidden part of my unique education here. They are the many things I never expected when I came (though I expected adversity, I never knew specifics), and they are indelibly printed on my soul.

Dou (pronounced "dough") - 4th tone.

2008-06-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

The first time someone used this word when talking with me they also pointed to their cheek. I immediately went into language survival mode, scrambling for context and meaning. "Nose? I have something in my nose? No? An eyelash? Yeah, I know it's jiemao, but what are pointing at, exactly?" The only thing that's changed is that I don't ask questions anymore; I know the meaning. Students will still point and say "dou."

Chinese people are amazing at making your business their own; they are looking out for you and trying to help. When I realized that the meaning of "dou" was "pimple," however, I wondered about the nature of their concern. It's common to hear this from my students, the only prerequisite being, well, a pimple. I have heard this so much that I'm rather accustomed to it now.

The other day one of my students asked me how to say "dou" in English. I said that there were several ways: "Pimple," "zit," "boil," well...you get the idea. I thought about it for a moment and then explained something to the student (something that probably saved the student from an awkward moment of my cross-cultural rage). I said that there were indeed several ways to say "dou," but that I preferred to hear "dou" because the word was firmly within a Chinese context. I don't know how often I would be able to hear, "You have a zit on your face," before I would just snap. "You have a dou" sounds so much nicer, don't you think? Actually, after being immersed in this culture, it sounds almost NORMAL.

Campus Building Attendants

2008-06-09T06:54:00.000-07:00

Just inside of each building on campus is a small room. This room is generally used as an apartment by the custodian of that building. In the English department, a husband, wife, and young child live in the room. If I study in the English building during the evening I can smell them cooking dinner. The husband and wife are in charge of cleaning the building (sweeping and mopping common areas), stocking coal, and keeping it locked up during the night. Typically I see the wife cleaning the building, though yesterday the husband was mopping the English office. They will refill the thermos station each day so that teachers have no end of hot water for their tea mugs. Once the wife went out of her way to help me light a fire in the stove during winter; I had piled too many chunks of coal inside the stove before letting the sticks burn long enough.

I often see the husband at the gate. He is in a pseudo-police officer's uniform making sure that only authorized vehicles enter the school grounds. Usually the small office next to the gate is staffed by 2-4 people who are chatting, drinking tea, and smoking cigarettes. When they talk to me I don't understand because their dialect is so thick that even "Where are you going?" sounds a bit like, "Wiya yoo goan."

The son goes to school during the day, but I often see him running around campus with a large stick or something else he has procured from the trash-filled pond. Sometimes he will enter a class when it's not in session and cause trouble. To practice my Chinese I try to have lengthy conversations with him, but usually I only discover that he has just eaten or that he does, indeed, like kites. The students in the building are his temporary family, and the culture expects that when the parents aren't in the immediate vicinity (maybe they're cleaning or on duty nearby) that the students will take a hand in watching the child.

If I'm studying in a classroom he will come over and look at my flashcards and Chinese book. He searches through my materials, digs through my bag until he finds what he is looking for: an orange. He gives it to me and waits, staring as I peel it. In America I would ask his mother or father first, but he is hungry, an orange is healthy, and, actually, I am his parent for the time being. I send him after a garbage can and he obliges, dragging it across the room despite the fact that it is very light. "Pick it up!" I say in a stern, forceful Chinese. He carries it over and begins putting the peels in the can as I divide the orange.

2008-05-30T00:21:00.000-07:00

Student Dinners

2008-05-29T07:09:00.000-07:00

The students file in after calling to me through my open front door. "Can we come in?" they ask, arms laden with vegetables and a large bag of rice. Half of the students find their way to the kitchen and start preparing dinner, while the others bombard me with questions about my apartment, "who lives in this other room?" they wonder. "Why didn't you make your bed?"

Does it seem strange that my students love to come over and cook dinner at my apartment? At first this idea was as foreign as anything else here, but later the reasons for it became clear. The dorm situation in China is similar to that in America because the students can't cook for themselves. The students seem to share a universal desire to make food, and being deprived of that option makes coming to my apartment a blessing.

It's funny because I always see a different side of students when they're preparing and cooking food. They're genuinely happy. They chatter in a mix of Chinese dialects and pepper their conversations with English. I meet them halfway with questions such as "OK了吗？“ and "为什么not?" Everything seems to fall into place without much planning. There are several reasons for this, but I suspect that one important factor contributing to this efficiency is that Sichuanese Food has a repertoire of about 25 standard dishes. The students have all made these dishes before - several times. When one student yells, "Chop the onions!" another student already knows exactly how many to chop and into which 2 dishes the onions will go.

While eating they are eager to put food into my bowl and they watch my face as I try it. Everything is delicious (as always). "I'm full, eat slowly," they begin to say in Chinese as they become full. Setting their chopsticks on their bowl they politely wait for everyone to finish eating.

After dinner the students mobilize: washing the dishes, mopping the floor, and putting everything back as it was. "Sorry, I must go now" they say, one by one, as they begin to leave. After walking the students out I pass through my living room and stop in the kitchen: both places are now cleaner than when the students arrived.

There are many things which make this event enjoyable: They make the food, wash the dishes, sweep and mop the floor, take out the garbage, wash the table...

But none of these things is as worthwhile as seeing the students truly happy when they transform my apartment into a restaurant.

Office Hours

2008-05-28T06:48:00.001-07:00

Every week Bethany and I hold office hours in her apartment. Students are free to ask questions about classes or about English in general. We are there to support students who are having difficulties and we are there to help these students improve their English. More often than not, however, the students have different ideas when they stop by on Wednesday afternoons.

Last semester it was consistently phonetics practice. I taught 3 sections of American English Phonetics and our classes included a chalkboard filled with new sounds, words that contained the new sounds, and lots of practice (I say, they say). Although helpful for pronunciation, this process was tedious. When students came to our office hours with lists of words from class I would visibly cringe.

This semester the students generally avoid class questions, favoring simple conversation to practice their English. I enjoy these times because it gives me a chance to tease the students and I know it helps the students greatly improve their listening and speaking.

Occasionally we watch movies. Chinese students don't have the same taste in movies that Bethany and I do. I realized there were differences last semester, when I discovered that their music preference is a startling universal aversion to indie rock. After discovering that the two most popular songs in China seem to be "Yesterday Once More," and "My Heart Will Go On," I gave up trying to introduce the music I enjoy. In fact, as part of my listening class I play 2 songs each week. Students are expected to put a scrambled song lyrics sheet in order, or fill in blanks (like a cloze passage). As part of an evaluation, one of my students wrote, "Maybe if you play songs that are more popular we would like them more." I was providing quality, unique music with beautiful lyrics. Why couldn't they see that?

So when it came to movies I was immediately suspicious. Would they pick up a copy of "Fargo," at the same time giving an account of how they thought the Coen brothers should have won Best Picture in addition to Screen Writing, lambasting the contrived "The English Patient" with their fist held high in the air? Or would they rapidly scan for the Disney logo, never stopping long enough to read the back of a DVD case? Often I've found the latter to be true.

Today there was hope. One of my students lifted a Charlie Chaplin DVD from the pile and insisted that we watch. This was culture. This was class. We adjusted the volume, preparing to hear the music that would accompany the silent star on his journey. Instead a Chinese dubbing explained, step-by-step, what was happening. I felt troubled. I decided to try and watch anyway, finding myself laughing along with the rest. After all, I wasn't understanding much of the Chinese anyway, so it seemed the same. While I was laughing, one of my students asked me if I understood the Chinese. "No," I replied.
"Then why are you laughing?" they asked, genuinely perplexed.

In any case, this time is an opportunity for students. I have learned to temper my own pretentious criticisms of their tastes, and for good reason: who am I to critique their love of the Backstreet Boys? It's so upbeat.

And Happy Feet? It's definitely far from pages of English words for pronunciation practice.

So while the students are intent on having their preferences, I quietly persist with my own. But I no longer play Death Cab for Cutie for an entire classroom of students. They like John Denver more.

Will you take our picture?

2008-05-21T05:03:00.000-07:00

My backyard is, of course, a basketball court. Since last fall the hoops have been removed and it serves only as a lecture field for PE classes or as a place for oxen to cross on their way to greener pastures.

This is my immediate backyard. Farther on is a mass of demolished bricks where the school is clearing the way for a new road. The road will eventually connect to the two new buildings and the building which will be finished sometime next year. Old women spend their days chipping sediment off the bricks so that they can be resold. Walking toward the back of campus there is a new gate. It is small, but it is made of iron and locked so I have to trouble the security guard to open it. As I step through the gate I enter a completely different place. Terraced fields of Chinese Cabbage and Rice fill the landscape. People push carts and students tote worn bags and everyone stares at me when I pass.

I enter a hidden city that is filled with alleys leading to homes and vegetable markets. I pass by oxen, wild dogs, families cooking dinner, people sleeping on couches, tarps covered with rapeseed, children walking home.

"May I take your picture? You and your grandchild?" I ask.
"Hmm..." she thinks, with the proper Chinese hesitation.
"Please? I think it would be a really good picture."
"OK," she says, obviously wanting to be photographed.

I show her the digital camera and turn to leave when I hear another, older woman: "How about me, will you take my picture?"
"Of course!"

Walking home I keep my camera out, prepared for more opportunities. In China these chances come so often that I always kick myself when leaving the camera at home.

Three children pass by and the bravest one asks, "Will you take our picture?"
"OK - all three of you together."

I ask where they live, they tell me, and we go our separate ways. Tonight they will tell their family that they saw and actually talked with a foreigner. Their parents will ask, skeptically, where I was from and they will not know. But they will continue to talk, telling their parents what I said and did. How I walked and talked.

And me? I went home and wrote about it. My night is writing and sharing this cross-cultural experience. So we all went our own ways and told the stories of this small event. And tomorrow, when I return with prints of the pictures, I will probably talk with their families. We will share tea and we will struggle to communicate. We will talk about everything - and nothing, really.

Earthquake

2008-05-20T04:12:00.000-07:00

The earthquake and aftershocks have caused in a few basic changes in life for people in Anshun. Because the initial earthquake caused so much devastation, people in all areas are worried about aftershocks. Many of my students have never had training about what to do in the case of an earthquake. The fear is compounded when we turn on the television to see station after station broadcasting footage of crews searching through rubble and displaced families somberly walking to their next temporary home.

Last night the students evacuated the dorms at several schools in the area because there were reports that an aftershock would occur during the night. I heard that the time of aftershocks cannot be predicted, so this is curious. The students did not seem very happy to leave their beds in the middle of the night, and several arrived late to class because they were sleeping through the morning bell. 'Yawn' was the word of the day.

I feel safe here; there seems to be no indication that anyone is worried about our region because it is so far from the earthquake. I am interested in helping the communities just outside of Chengdu most affected by the disaster. I am trying to design a long-term project related to reconstruction. This project would involve working with the local community to provide some kind of long-distance support. Currently there has been an amazing response on the part of communities around China: money is being raised and sent to communities affected by the earthquake. There is some concern that it will be more difficult to get people to help as time passes. Many volunteers here are willing to also participate in long-term projects, and we are looking to our schools for ideas.

If you have ideas or suggestions about long-term projects, or you are curious how you can help, please email me at fn0112358@gmail.com

Although I cannot be involved directly with raising funds (if that's something we decide to do), I can give such a process oversight to ensure the money goes to the communities in need (schools can contact me via email). Individuals can look into organizations like Mercy Corps and Red Cross.

Relief

2008-05-13T22:25:00.001-07:00

http://www.mercycorps.org/

Peace Corps Volunteers

2008-05-13T22:07:00.001-07:00

All volunteers have been located and they are safe. There is a news release on the Peace Corps webpage (www.peacecorps.gov) that explains everything.

Peace Corps is doing everything they can to ensure our continued safety.

Earthquake in China

2008-05-12T21:39:00.000-07:00

You have probably already heard about the earthquake which has killed around 8,500 people at last count. The Peace Corps was incredibly quick to respond by contacting all of the volunteers and ensuring their safety. This included a checklist involving our future safety (e.g. is your apt. damaged?). The relief I have that all of my American friends are fine is quickly overshadowed by the fact that so many people have died.

There are many heavy hearts as people walk around silently: shocked by this disaster.

I am in the process of finding Chinese aid organizations which will provide support to the people in Sichuan province, and I will post the information here when I find one that is reputable.

Earthquake

2008-05-12T06:43:00.001-07:00

Everybody seemed to feel the Earthquake but me. I am just fine.

Cheers!

Education (3 of 4)

2008-05-11T17:02:00.000-07:00

In my first discussion of education in China I provided a chronological overview of education throughout the grade levels. A reader who has lived here for 3 years informed me that I had made a mistake about how college testing worked, and so this will be about testing.

China is a culture that, when looking at Bloom's Taxonomy, can only see "knowledge." At first I found against this idea because it left creativity to be discovered only by truly bold students, but then I began to understand. Memorization is the product of a culture that values tradition because those who can remember the tradition best are the members who are most valued (generally speaking). Also, the writing aspect of learning Chinese (and, to some extent, the reading) is a test in memorization on a massive scale. Students write characters over and over again hundreds or thousands of times in an effort to remember the character and improve their handwriting. My students can recite the same classic poems and remember famous Chinese writers with startling detail. The emphasis upon knowledge has led to an idea that there are "correct" and "incorrect" ways to do things. For example, if I were to write a character on the chalkboard, but not use the correct stroke order, the students would scream in unison, "wrong!" Does it matter that I wrote the character in the wrong order? That's an argument I love to take up with my students. The students were even asking me why I write a "t" with the vertical line first, as that doesn't follow stroke order for Chinese. "Is that American English stroke order?" they asked me.

All of this emphasis on knowledge and standardization has led to testing, which determines everything for a student. Participation in Band, Track, National Honor Society, or Debate Club are not helpful in seeking entrance to a good college. More helpful is a high Gao Kao score, which can be submitted to the school for acceptance or rejection. Depending on their score and the scores of other students that year, a student's Gao Kao might get them into a good or bad school (or somewhere between).

There is even a national standardized test for dancing. "There must be one correct way," is likely the idea behind this. If I were to guess, Kung Fu and Calligraphy also have tests (but I really don't know).

Testing is not a new idea in China, which convinces me that education really is a product of deep historical and cultural roots. During the Ming Dynasty people could take the civil service examination, which included only four books (Analects, Mencius, Doctrine of the Mean, and Great Learning) which were translated by the Song scholar Zhu Xi. One way to improve odds of success for these tests was to write the classics in small characters inside clothes. I believe cheating to be a product of overemphasis upon knowledge, and I think that any culture emphasizing knowledge more than application, synthesis, analysis or evaluation is likely to experience increased cheating. Once an increase in cheating happens for an extended period, this will likely help to redefine the culture's view of such behavior. I have seen and heard much about cheating in China and I have the idea that it's probably helped along by teachers and professors allowing it to happen.

Students who do well on the Gao Kao will usually go on to college for further study. Those who do not do well can stay in high school and study for an additional year before re-taking the test. With the increased pressure to get into a good school, this practice is more common that you might guess. Recently the test was changed from July to June, but the saying hasn't completely disappeared: "black July" is a time of intense heat and intense pressure as students nationwide take the Gao Kao and hope for a bright future.

Once students enter a college they tend to relax more. There are rarely all-day study sessions and being away from their parents allows them more friends or even the possibility of a boyfriend/girlfriend. Nonetheless, students are still under pressure from one or more of four tests: CET-4, CET-6, TEM-4, TEM-8.

The CET tests are two different English tests for non-English majors. The CET-4 is required for graduation of all non-English majors, and the same students can take the CET-6 for a bonus (it will likely help students to get an even better job). The same is true for English majors with the TEM tests: The TEM-4 is required for graduation and the TEM-8 will open more doors for these students.

There is a universal foreign language in China: English. Students all over campus study English and almost every student can speak to some extent. Whether or not they will speak to me in English is different due to the shyness and group-mentality of students.

As a poor test-taker, I am thankful that I was born in the American system of education. Opportunities can be found for students who get good grades, attend clubs, play sports, write for the newspaper, or do other extracurricular activities. The ACT or SAT isn't everything. Some students here believe that the Chinese system is unfair. These are the students who may not be attending the college of their choice (in fact, the vast majority of my students did not want to come to this school). It's likely that students attending better schools in larger cities feel the system is working just fine.

As China continues to grow and develop rapidly, the education system is certain to follow. I don't anticipate drastic changes in education and testing, but preparing students for a global economy may need to go beyond memorizing lists of information.