Tommy Blows It

I had a very bad thing happen in one of my classes today. I learned a very important lesson, one that will shape my teaching from this day forth, but I'm trying not to blame myself for what happened. I mean, there was no way I could have known, right? Am I right?

Here's how it went down:

We were engaged in a role play activity, something we do quite freqently in my class. I divided the students into groups of four and established a scenario in which two adult friends wanted to set their children up on a date with eachother. It worked quite well actually. Students used this oppertunity to shout insults at eachother (How DARE you choose my boyfriend, you witch!) and, of course, there was the added bonus of girls being forced to say things like "he is so handsome" to a boy. This kind of flirtatious comedy is gold, works every time. These details actually have nothing to do with what went wrong today, but I figured some of you might be interested in hearing an example of one of my daily lessons, albeit one of the more fun ones.

On with the drama...

As my students were acting out their role play scenarios, the audience quickly grew restless and bagan jabbering away. This is a very common problem in my class. They just won't shut up. It's not necessarily a blatant disregard of my authority, but rather that same low level murmer that fills a middle school classroom when the teacher loosens the reigns too much. Except, I have 60 students, so no matter how firm I grip the reigns, it's absolutely impossible to keep these kids in check all the time. Granted, this never seems to happen when I am the one talking, but the moment another student takes the mic, the chat rises up like a swarm of bees...nothing too distinct, just a solid wall of sound.

As you can imagine, I spend a good part of my classtime trying to rectify the situation. I make repeated requests for everyone to "quiet down and respect those that are performing." I make a specific point to quickly lecture certain students who are repeat offenders. Sometimes I get angry. Somtimes I shout. Sometimes I try to explain to them why this is very frusterating for me. I basically do anything I can to try to control the storm.

Today however, after failing miserably with my usual tactics, I tried out a new silencing weapon. If I heard a student talk, I had them stand up at their desk for two minutes. This sounds like a strange way to combat talking, but it acted as a perfect visual warning for other students. After making three students stand up, for the first time in a long while, the entire class went silent. They finally saw that I meant business. Yes, I knew there was an element of public punishment that wasn't ideal, but it didn't seem that bad. I thought it to be slightly harsher than writing a student's name on the board. I mean, you have understand, the level of noise that would sometimes erupt, made my class completely unteachable. I couldn't hear what students were saying in english. Also, those that were performing the role play lost all their steam when they noticed that no one was listening. It really felt like a desperate time.

**Note: My classes are usually a delight to teach. This type of behavior is not constant, nor even frequent.

So yes, I resorted to a tactic that was highly effective, but not very sensitive. Truthfully, I never thought this decision needed to be defended...that is until one of my students burst into tears. I can't even begin to tell you why this happened. Well, I can guess why, but that really only scratches the surface. What lies beneath, I'll probably never know. What had I done? Did I inadvertantly label this girl a criminal? Was standing up for two minutes really that humiliating? Was this a cultural misunderstanding? Was this girl just overly sensitive? Was this a huge, huge mistake by a novice teacher?

For the rest of the class, this girl buried her head into her arms. No one around her took notice, or even seemed to care. Now this is particularly strange, because I've seen girls cry in my class for other reasons and those sitting around that girl always lend their comfort and support, ignoring the class lesson if needed. At the end of class, I assured this girl that I wasn't mad at her and that I was very, very sorry that I made her feel so bad. She nodded, but I could tell she just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. The students in her role play group gave me a note, basically apologizing to me, assuming that I was angry their group couldn't perform because of their incapacitated member. Details like this makes me think that maybe my classroom tactics were not that horrible, but somehow struck an unexplainable nerve with this girl that could have never been predicted.

I am obviously trying to convince myself that this is true. I really don't like the idea of me failing miserably as a teacher. The scary thing is that there probably is a right answer. I'm sure there is some teaching textbook that specifically warns against this kind of punishment.

This girl was shattered. I feel absolutely horrible. Yet, as I said earlier, I really do feel like I learned a significant lesson today.

**Note: This next part has nothing to do with China. It's just a childhood story that I think relates. Feel free to skip it if you're only looking for China related info.

When I was in the 6th grade, my own teacher made me cry. It was the final hour of school before everyone went on Spring Break. Many families were picking their kids up from the school early so they get a jump on traffic. Our class became so empty, the teacher decided to give the rest of us free time. Each 12 year old was hopped up on adrelanine, knowing that Disney World/Wisconsin Dells/Six Flags/Ect was only hours away. I don't remember why, but some of boys decided to get into a raging marker fight. Again, I don't remember why, but for some reason, a large number of them decided to gang up on me. This was suprising, considering that I was totally cool back then, as I am today. I think them scribbling marker on my face was their way of expressing how jealous they were of my coolness.

Anyway, having 5 guys chase me around the room with markers was a noticable sight. My teacher, Mr. Flom, a very young guy in his first year of teaching, called us over. He asked what was going on. I explained that this pack of wild boys were doing their best to molest me with fine tipped, possibly permenant markers. He then took one of the markers and made a small mark on my forehead. The wild boys erupted in applause and hysteria. They then pounced on me and continued to mark my face.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Flom was supposed to protect me! He was supposed to be the guiding voice of reason, not the validator of anarchy. Not only did he give those boys the go-ahead to keep doodling on my face, but it also felt like he too was calling me a loser, or that he also thought that I was deserving of a massive wedgie. I loved this guy, he was one of my favorite teachers. I felt betrayed and humiliated. I left for the bathroom and balled my eyes out.

I know what he was thinking. He assumed that this was a fair game marker war and these guys were my friends. Since the entire school was pretty much already on vacation, he didn't want to come down on some kids having fun and saw an oppertunity to show them that he too could cut loose. Even back then, I knew it was little more than a misunderstanding on his part. Still though, he violated the trust and it hurt bad. Mr. Flom came out in the hall and saw the final stage of my sob session. I still remember the look on his face. He almost broke down himself. Once he pieced everything together, he was flustered with guilt and devestation. He began to apologize when the bell rang. I quickly told him that it wasn't a big deal and bolted for the door. He told me to wait, but I just kept running. I was now ashamed that I had been caught crying. My mom was waiting for me in her van, fully packed for our Northern Minnesota adventure. She saw my red face and asked what was wrong, but I just told her to drive, like I was pulling away from a heist.

I haven't thought about that story in a really long time. I don't even think I ever told anyone about this before. Today, however, I've been thinking about that story a lot, almost taking pity on Mr. Flom. I guess I can empathise with him now. I too have made a teaching blunder than caused a student to break down emotionally. I too share his guilt.

Garden of Eden Part 2, ect.

When we last left our hero, he was explaining the unique subclass of foreign men in China who are seemingly in the final throes of their search for a Shangrila. I'm not really sure if that last sentence even makes sense, so I would advise the reader to suck it up and read the post before this.

I'll wait.

Good. Now you're caught up. As I was saying...

The tragic man reveals himself in a very interesting way. Completely unprovoked, he will regail you with stories that illustrate how amazing his life is in China. He will talk about how much money he gets paid, how many girlfriends he has, and how much fun he has. I know, I know...I'm starting to talk like a National Geographic voice over, explaining the mating habits of the lion. Yet, the consistency of the scenario I just described is pretty remarkable. This, of course, may be reaching, but my conclusion is that the Tragic Man desperately needs an attentive audience that helps him confirm everything he is saying. Essentially, he needs someone to nod along, so he can convince himself that his life is downright awesome.

However, this persona always seems to be hanging by a thin thread. You can always feel his lonliness poking through his confident exterior. Oftentimes I get the distinct feeling that even the Tragic Man knows that I'm not buying it. More than likely, there are some common psychological elements at play here. The idea of filling an ambiguous void with girls and booze is nothing new. Yet, what I find so interesting is that China physically represents the last place to look for answers. It really is their last chance at finding paradise. I imagine for some, it would be easy to confuse China for such a place, but after a while, I just know it all comes crashing down.

In way, it feels like many of us have run away to China. The Tragic Man might have bought his ticket to escape a broken life back home, but part of me knows that I bought mine to escape the uncertainties and responsibilities that my future holds. There is no doubt, should China be a limbo state, it has been a very exciting and fulfilling one. However, certain predicaments await my return, completely unchanged since I left them one year ago. Then again, that's one thing that dinstinguishes me from the Tragic Men: I'm coming home, but most of them are not. They will continue to ramble, continue to wander, and continue to search for that Garden of Eden.

In other news...

I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again: Sam and Luing got married! They took a train to Beijing, signed some documents, and probably consumated the relationship shortly afterwards. They have been planning this for quite some time, but there still was an element of excitement to it. It's easy to talk about marraige, but once you take the final step, the foreigner has basically assured him or herself that they are staying in China for a good many years (possibly forever). Even if there is a marraige between an American and a Chinese person, getting a Visa for the husband or wife is still very difficult and expensive. It's been a week since they came home and Luing still laughs like crazy when I call her Luing Burkett. We had a fancy-smancy dinner and a wall shaking party for the two lovebirds last Saturday.

I am now the unofficial piano tester at the music shop I frequent. You see, the only pianos that I can find in China are found in instrument stores downtown. In the beginning, I was forced to pretend like I was interested in buying a piano. I would look at the prices intently and inspect the internal strings. This whole charade was just an excuse to sit down and engage in my favorite hobby for 15 minutes or so. Thankfully, that jig is up and the store owners now expect me to waltz into their store and immediately sit down at a piano once or twice a week. Recently though, the store owners have been using me as a sort of demonstation player for their customers. If someone is interested in buying a piano, they have me come over and put on a show for them. The piano is sort of a new instrument for China and there are close to no teachers in Changsha. Nevertheless, being asked to put on a show feeds my piano ego to no end. It's also nice to finally give something back to the store. Before this, the only contribution I had made was the purchase of a cheap flute that I bought out of embarrassment for being such a freeloader.

HILARIOUS ALERT: Better Believe it!

Every week, the other teachers and I participate in a mandatory English Corner put on by our school, in which we chat freely with the students. Recently however, the organizers have tried to add some flair to the event by creating specific activities for us to do. The only problem is that, contrary to the organizers intent, the activities are sometimes very inappropriate. For instance, at a recent English Corner, students excitedly explained that we were going to be playing a version of "Suck and Blow" with our students. In truth, this game sounds worse than it is, but basically the way you play is by passing some sort of card (credit card usually) around the room by securing it to your mouth by sucking and passing it the next co-ed by blowing. This turns into a simulation of kissing that hardly gets the blood going for most adults in America, but also has no place as a school sanctioned activity involving both teacher and student. FURTHERMORE...instead of a card, the students were using a thin piece of tissue. It was eerie, especially when you consider that my students are very naive and I tend to think of them as little kids. Nobody, other the foreign teachers, recognized this activity as being scandelous, or even borderline sexual. Yet, there they were, pretty much making out with a thin, hardly protective, layer of tissue. When it came time for the teachers to play, we politely declined, leaving the boy sucking on the tissue to contemplate why.

Peace Out
Tommy

I'm not going to spend the first three paragraphs of this edition discussing why I haven't posted in such a long time (as I'm prone to do). Suffice to say, the reasons do go beyond mere laziness.



The Search For Eden:

One of the most satisfying consequences of living in China for so long, is the ambiguous understanding you gain about a country and people that once seemed mysterious and inpenetrable. My utterly basic knowledge of the Chinese langauge has prevented me from any full sense of understanding (certainly in any academic realm), but I do take pride in my ability to sift through the mountains of experience that have come my way and isolate certain themes and patterns.

That being said, one of the most distinct lessons I have recently recieved in human behavior has not come from the Chinese people, but rather from the fellow foreigners that explore this country with me. Waiguaren (foreigners) develop a strong sense of solidarity here in China, as I imagine they would in other non-western areas of the world. It's not uncommon to randomly strike up a conversation with fellow whitey, or give a polite nod as you pass them on the street.

When you live in a non-tourist part of China, every foreigner you meet has a very specific story for why they are here. No doubt, many of them share my story: Young men and women, fresh out of college, postoponing their careers for the chance to live in another part of the world during a time when they have no family or significant job that would keep them rooted down. Yet, while we may be the only group of people that can claim enough similarities to merit a group status, we are really a minority here in China. So many of the foreigners I meet are not young and therefore do not seem to be inspired by the explorative nature of youth. Each of these men (and the occational woman) have reasons for coming to China that are always too specific to categorize. Yet, I'm going to do just that.

There is a another group of foreigners here in China, be it a very loose federation. They are the "Tragic Men" and the reasons that bring them to China vary quite a bit. For one particular case, an online relationship brought him here, followed by an instant marraige and an equally quick divorce. Many have been here for so long that the initial reason for coming seems trivial at present. What often does not vary however, are the many things that keep them here in China. For starters, jobs are easy to find, the work is simple enough, and the cost of living is cheap. Also, beer and liquor are extremely cheap and as I have discussed before it is far more acceptable in China for men to get drunk at whatever time on whatever day. Also, age is not a hindurance when it comes to booze. No one is saying "dude, you're in your 40's! You can't get drunk like this every night." Easily the most alluring reason for the Tragic Man to stay in China is the fact that Chinese women love foreign men. You have to understand, this goes beyond simple attraction. There is a subculture of english speaking women here in China that have the sole goal of getting a foreign boyfriend.

Really, what this all adds up to is a second chance for these guys to be 20 years old again. As many will tell you, China has become their Garden of Eden, their Shangrila.

For a long time, this was wrap I had on these guys. At that point, I certainly wouldn't have labled them tragic. As time wore on however, the cracks began to show. Most of the relationships formed between foreign men and Chinese girls are about meaningful as you'd imagine. The woman (or girl in many cases) is often extremely submissive. She cleans the foreign boyfriend's room, she follows the foreign boyfriend wherever he goes, and when interacting with other foreigners, she slinks off to the side and remains completely silent.

**There are numerous exceptions to this rule. For instance, my good friend Sam just got married to an awesome, anything but submissive, Chinese girl this past week! Hurrah.

There are certainly cultural elements at work here. This passage is not meant to put down the Chinese girls that get into these relationships with a foreigner. However, there is no mistaking that these relationships are very shallow by western standards.

If you're reading this...I'm cutting this post off halfway, so check back tomorrow probably.