Kite Day

Last week the entire school went kite flying, and it was incomprehensibly perfect. The students formed two lines and marched up through the mountains for an hour, while 杨维菊 and I had running races, sing-a-longs, and foliage-collecting contests. She wove me a crown. When we reached a picturesque plateau, everyone sat in little circles and shared fruit and snacks, resting between their kite-run jaunts. I walked from circle to circle, accepting watermelon juice, apples, oranges, and bananas, stealing a kite or two when I could. We stayed all afternoon, until dinnertime, when us teachers whipped up some 米线.

Teaching English: The Final Throwdown

This past week all the first-year English teachers of 界头 were to come together and compete for the most revered title this side of China: Number One English Teacher. Seven English teachers from various elementary schools, two endless incomprehensible meetings, a panel of scrutinizing judges, and a 听课 (class observing) marathon.

Though some tried to dazzle with elaborate powerpoints (wow did that image just have an animation AND a sound effect?), most tried to emphasize their flawless pronunciation of the word 'the' (did you know very few languages have a voiced dental fricative? Aka th in the). We were given grading sheets and expected to assign a score to each person's performance. Sadly, I pulled in at a mere second. Madeline "no, I don't need a smartboard" Christensen took the title, and won the hearts of third graders throughout the land.

It was a ridiculous two-day event in which myself and Maddy, another TFC fellow, were regarded as English-teaching prophets sent to spread the TPR word. I spent about 30 minutes making my powerpoint and arrived late to class, while other teachers had obviously spent hours and hours perfecting their lesson plan. Sure, as native speakers we can say English pretty good, but shouldn't the hard work of these local teachers be recognized, if not rewarded? It's beyond uncomfortable to be pitted against each other in a 'competition' and then automatically be chosen as superior. We were even asked to give our feedback first, before the judges who are experienced teachers, and over the other participants who weren't asked to speak at all. Although I appreciate the idea of coming together as novice English teachers to 听课 , I think ranking us is an unnecessary amount of pressure. But kudos to our forward-thinking 领导 (government officials) for coming up with something constructive, despite the somewhat misled execution.

My Monday

Today I woke up early. I got dressed and made breakfast over the pre-dawn chants of my students’ synchronized steps around the track. I prepared materials for class, and tried to write a lesson plan that reflected what I wanted my students to learn.

As children lined up for breakfast, I filled my canister with hot water, and brewed my favorite green oolong tea. I had such a feeling of vigor; it seemed to me like capability, raw strength. I rushed to class, and it didn’t go poorly.

I rushed to class again, but walked more slowly when I realized the school meeting was running long. I set up in an empty classroom, but still no one came, and when they did, it was as if I didn’t exist. I packed up my things and talked with my favorite teacher, who said they were having a long assembly about the big fire. Over the weekend, five students, including a 3^rd and a 6^th grader, were playing with fire when it got out of hand. In fact, at the time I was visiting her house, and she made me go outside to look at the smoke.

We went to lunch and she asked me if her 盐菜 pickled vegetables, which I had eaten over the weekend, were better than the school’s. I admitted that they absolutely were. She continued to ask me, so that other teachers would hear my response. Each time she laughed an evil laugh. I told her I was going to teach her first class in the afternoon—she's sick, and I didn’t get a chance to teach her students because of the assembly. She just laughed.

I went to my room and took up a book that I liked as a kid. I got distracted by a memory, a nice kind of longing though, the kind that makes you want to close your eyes. I fell asleep.

She laughed again as she saw me walking to her class. I was informed that they were taking pictures this period, and I could take her 3^rd period class. I was momentarily let down since I had planned to go on a long run during that time. But I pushed the selfish thought from my mind, and went back to reading in my room.

I taught two periods back to back. Afterwards, I ran a mile and did some weights, interspersed by squats. I went to dinner sweaty.

I ate the rest of my strawberries since I was still hungry. They would have gone bad after much longer anyway. I showered. I hand-washed my underwear in a basin while listening to music and singing to myself.

On a trip back from the bathroom, I stopped and watched the setting sun. I marveled at the grandiose; everything looked petty and unremarkable in comparison, even the canola flowers. I thought about how the cirrus clouds looked as if the white crayon worked in nature.

Now I’m drinking chrysanthemum tea, writing, with music afloat. I plan to read for a couple hours, and then go to sleep.