杨维菊

I have to do a brief profile on one of my best friends here. Her name is 杨维菊 Yang Weiju, she is 47 years old, she is a fifth-grade 班主任 (banzhuren), and teaches literature and science. She’s always cackling, feeds me as if I were starving, and today she carried me across campus on her back. In short, she’s hilarious.

We recently had a heart-to-heart over persimmons and dried papaya. She asked, “who’s your favorite teacher here?”

I rolled my eyes, “you, duhhh.”

We laughed. I wasn’t going to ask hers; I didn’t want her to feel like she should say the same to me, especially since nearly everyone here is her old friend.

“Yeah, you’re my favorite too.”

I thought I would compile some of her best quotes. (Note: I’ve taken a few liberties in translating the Chinese/local dialect/hand gestures.)

[Drinks soup from serving bowl] “I guess this isn’t too civilized…. yeah I don’t give a fuck either.”

“I hear Americans don’t care how low their shirts are. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when your boobs are hanging out.”

“Let go drink 白酒 baijiu!” [I drink] “Oh I can’t, I have high blood pressure.”

“My kids love me. They fear me, but they love me.”

“Let’s go steal fruit from the other teachers.”

“I might be old, I might be ugly, but I sure am funny as hell.”

Three Friends, Two Mountains, and One Angry River

‘What are you doing for 国庆节?’ I was often asked before the break. 国庆节 is China’s national holiday, celebrating the day the Communist party was formed. No one really cares, except for the fact that everyone gets a whole seven days off, from October 1^st to the 7^th.

‘Going to 怒江(Nu Jiang)!’ I would reply, stressing the NUUU because inevitably, the asker would knit their brow, then correct me. ‘Oh! 丽江 (Li Jiang), of course.’

At the end of our trip, I insisted that 怒江 was the new Jiang, a pun met with the eye-rolls and glares that good pun always should,  but I meant it. From what I remember, 丽江 is a knock-off of 大理(Dali) but sadder and just as touristy. 怒江, however, is beautiful, rich in the Lisu minority culture, and ‘off the beaten track.’ (Whatever that means… there was only one ‘track,’ which seemed to have been beaten quite frequently, or I assume so based on its condition).

怒江 is the prefecture just north of where I live, but over a huge mountain range. About half of the population is Lisu, an ethnic minority found in Burma, Thailand, India, and Yunnan. They have their own language, traditions, and history, independent of China’s dominant ethnic group, the Han.

Shout-out to my girl Jasmine for the idea. She suggested it to Diane and I, and though at first I thought, wait you want to go somewhere more rural than where we already live?… now I’m really glad we did. Also, I’m going to refer to the three of us as DAJ from now on, mainly because I can.

We all met up in 保山(Baoshan), and after the most glorious meal of our lives, walked over to what seemed to be the red-light district, to find a place to sleep. Over the next two days we took four buses and one police truck to finally get to 丙中落(Bingzhongluo)—the northern-most, most isolated, yet somehow most touristy town on our agenda. At this point there were eight of us: DAJ, two second-year Chinese fellows we bumped into at the bus station in 保山, two slightly annoying American college students we bumped into at the bus station in 福贡(Fugong), and a cool Chinese guy they had bumped into at a bus station in 昆明(Kunming). You see, it was rumored that to enter 丙中落 one needed to pay an 100元 fee. Yet my friend Jasmine, ever the networker, called her local-teacher friend, who called one of his friends from 怒江, in order to call his policeman friend, to ask him to sneak us in for free. We later met a nice German guy who astutely observed, ‘relationships… I think it’s called关系(guanxi)… seem to be pretty important here.’ So the eight of us, plus two policemen, piled into a fiver-seater, and drove right on through the toll gate to our destination 丙中落.  Another shout-out for Jasmine and her homie Yangxu.

Unfortunately there was not a single hotel room available. We asked high and low, but receptionists started to scold us, ‘it’s 国庆节 ! And it’s late!’ Splitting up didn’t even help, though it did help us lose the other Americans. A man sitting outside eating a pomegranate overhead our pleas, ‘I have a place you can stay. It’s just not cleaned up...’

We were skeptical. ‘Can it fit eight people?’

‘8, 10, 25—it doesn’t matter.’

Terrified, we continued to search. 丙中落 only has one street, and after walking it up and down three times, we started to consider the offer from the creepy pomegranate man. But finally I noticed a store solely selling live chickens and fish also had a 宿主 sign. Alright, maybe the rooms were a little yellow-tinged, but it was about half the price of every other hotel. We celebrated our find over dinner at a hostel called Aluo’s, which we really liked, so we made a reservation at their other location in 迪麻落 (Dimaluo) for the following night.

In the morning, it was down to DAJ again. We nabbed a map and decided to hike to 迪麻落 by foot. Psyched to not be trapped on a bus, we marched off into the wilderness with a vague notion of heading southeast. First we needed to cross a bridge. Pretty straightforward—head towards the water. Well after asking three different people, we still couldn’t find it. When we asked a woman a second time, she took us to the right path.  

‘Hmm, if it took us an hour to just find a bridge, maybe we can’t make it in a day…’

‘No!’ said optimist Aubrey.

We walked over the bridge and encountered a man with a fancy walking stick. Little did we know, he would soon be our salvation.

Along the angry river we went, until we met an old, skinny 北京人, a chubby dude with a big camera, and his preteen son. They proved to be enjoyable hiking company, and we walked until we came across a village, and stopped to ask directions at a church. (Bizarrely most of the area is devoutly Catholic, thanks to some missionaries back at the turn of the 20^th century).  They laughed in our faces, ‘it takes us a day to get to 迪麻落.’ Fine. We would find a road, and from there hitchhike to a place we could definitely walk from.

At the road, we parted ways with our new friends, and tried to flag down any and every car. Things were looking pretty grim, when a familiar face rolled up. The man from the bridge! Turns out him and chubby dude had been friends since elementary school. He dropped us off, and we were on our way. Only a 10km trek from this point. Except we hadn’t really eaten lunch and a cab suddenly rolled by, tempting us. But our cheapskate hearts saved us from sloth. ’30 块?!’ we scoffed. ‘No way.’

After a two-hour slow uphill march, we arrived at Aluo’s, road-weary and relieved. Showers (cold)! Food! 啤酒! Sleep! What more could we have asked for. We chatted with Aluo himself for quite a while, a strikingly handsome older gentlemen, with amazing 普通话(standard Mandarin, pretty much everyone in China speaks their own local dialect, or in 怒江’s case, the Lisu language). He told us we had to go to 阿路来卡 (Alulaika), about three hours up a mountain.

The next day, we headed up. The path was a steep one, but the views were more and more amazing the higher we climbed. Once we were at the top, we were literally walking on clouds. Naïvely thinking we would find a restaurant, it slowly dawned on us that 阿路来卡 is a tiny village of about twenty homes and a church. I was getting ready to fly down the mountain for food, when our new trek-mate begged a random household to cook for us. Though barely understanding Chinese, they were gracious and hospitable, serving butter tea, potatoes, spicy fried egg, and rice (so only potatoes and rice). We gave them two American quarters as a keepsake, and 60快 for the trouble.

I think the best part about this trip was how little stress, how little effort, how little planning any of us put into it. We took things day by day and it turned out to be an amazing week. I feel like I would only ever be so casual about something unless I lived, well, just over the mountain. It also makes me appreciate coming home to Yong’an, because it’s really just as beautiful, yet I don’t even have to share it with the tourists.

永安明德小学 Yongan Mingde Elementary School!

Alright let's kick off this episode of Cribs.

This is "where the magic happens"

This where I get in work and watch Netflix

This is where I dry my underwear since I don't want everyone to see my underwear

This is where I act as chef and order my sous chef around

I've never used those purple things

My sweet view out the door

Yes those are hot peppers drying on the floor

pan-

-o-

-rama

Classrooms

Student dorm

Teacher dorm

The caf

My skool

That's it from the inside out. Got internets in my room, hot showers, starry nights, did I mention my sous chef? Nothing could be better.

Reflections on Training

This is kind of week late but I just wanted to do a little conclusion on Summer Institute, or training.

My first day of teaching was a mess. I was so nervous, I forgot to do part of my “introduction to new material” so I just stuck it in at the end. I didn’t even have a good grasp on the difference between the “group practice” or “independent practice.” Just a side note, I’m putting all these in quotes because in teacher land, these have all become acronyms. INM, GP, IP, CFU, EFL, TAL, etc, etc have become a part of our daily lingo. So if I drop one of these without explaining further, it’s just because we don’t even laugh at how ridiculous they sound anymore.

But yeah after that first class, I was like, eh not bad for my first time. But I was observed by my PM (almost forgot, program manager) so we debriefed that night. It was a really constructive meeting, and he said a lot of positive things. But somehow I broke down crying and pretty much didn’t stop for the rest of the night. I was putting a lot of pressure on myself, I felt like my Chinese sucked, that I wasn’t even fun or creative, and my kids probably didn’t learn anything.

Well luckily something changed because the average test grade went up 22 points between the diagnostic and the final. I know 22 sounds like a lot, but I should note a) my kids were smart, as well as angels in terms of behavior, b) their diagnostic average was 45% so they really didn’t have anywhere to go but up c) on the diagnostic a lot of kids didn’t fill out the essay even though I’m sure they understood the question and could’ve at least written something.

The Chinese teacher for my class had all the kids write letters to each teacher. Results were pretty hilarious. My favorite was the following backhanded compliment: “I think everyone likes the science teacher best, but Ms. King is my favorite.” They all also felt the need to tell me my Chinese sucks. Fair enough. But the overall sentiment was that I made English fun in a way they had never experienced before, and they liked the fact that I jumped around and danced. Teaching is a little like entertaining sometimes.

Anyway, I really felt like I had made it when I was having dinner with a friend. I was expressing concerns over potentially skewed results and nerves about teaching at placement. He stopped me and said, “Aubrey, you are an awesome teacher.” I was floored. Go tell someone they’re awesome at something.

Lots of room for improvement going forward however. I’ll write a post on my placement soon, I’m here now!

Thoughts from Summer Institute

Sorry I haven’t written in forever, SI is actually insane. There are so many things I want to cover in this post so I’m just going to break it down into a table of contents so you can pick and choose. Also note: I changed the URL, sorry! It's now teachingaub.blogspot.com.

Table of contents:

1. Teaching Rising-Ninth

2. Placement

3. Corporal Punishment

4. Racial Tensions

5. This Vegan Life

6. The Ethics of ‘Charity’ and the Language of the Oppressors

1. Teaching Rising-Ninth

Man I love my kids. I have 22 students going into their last year of middle school. All of the fellows are teaching summer school for three weeks before we go to placement. My kids are so well behaved and smart. Okay, maybe they averaged a 45% on the diagnostic exam, but when was the last time you had a long think about how crazy the present perfect is, or why ‘go’ becomes ‘went.’ Yeah, and now I’m left with the job of explaining that in Chinese. Obviously, knowing how to say the past progressive in Chinese is an extremely valuable life skill. 过去进行式. You’re welcome. But they’re fast learners; I think they can improve that average by over 10 points, though my official goal is only 5. And I really love teaching. When it goes well, I’m making kids stand up and do the robot, or they’re laughing at me for saying 地图ditu (map) instead of 土地tudi (land). The best moments aren’t when the highest-achieving kids eagerly raise their hand and get the right answer (although this also feels awesome), but when someone gets it wrong and you can walk them through it step by step.

2. Placement

A lot of the buzz these past few days has been about our placements, as in where we’ll be stranded for the next two years. Of course there is some discussion surrounding Yunnan versus Guangdong, but most are more concerned with WHO rather than where. As an introvert, I just want to be in the middle of nowhere with no people or pollution to bother me. I really like to be pushed out of the confines of “comfort” and into something more bizarre. For me to get the most out of this experience, I would have limited access to foreigners and the English language.

3. Corporal Punishment

The other day we had a slightly unnerving conversation about corporal punishment. Hitting kids is illegal in China, and we extend that to forbid anything that strips one of their dignity. However, local teachers may reluctantly hit students, principals may forbid it, or they may endorse use of a bamboo stick. You may be thinking, oh China, such a far cry from our humane Western world. Yet former Teach For America fellows divulged that though they may not have hit students themselves, they took problem kids to someone they knew would. I think I was more emotionally affected by the exploration of this gray area than others. “I can hardly get on my high horse and say I would never do that when I’ve never been in that situation” or “I can see how it becomes normalized within Chinese culture” or “what kind of ‘corporal punishment’ are we talking about? If it’s just a slap on the wrist….” I have to put my foot down. I will never hit a small child, a middle school student, or another human being. I will climb up on the highest of all horses and wave my non-violent flag, even if the brat spits in my face. I’m not bringing them to the guy with the big stick.

4. Racial Tensions

Obviously it’s weird being white here. We’re in a small town where lots of people may have never seen a foreigner before. There’s a lot of gawking, and some jovial hellos from small children. But can you imagine coming from across the globe to sacrifice your time and energy, only to be greeted with disappointment? Why you ask? You’re Asian American. You look just like us…. but you can’t even speak fluent Chinese. An Asian friend of mine was asked along with two other white, sixth-grade teachers if they would mind moving to another school. The grade had only gotten Chinese teachers and wanted at least one foreigner. My friend was silent. “Am I the ‘foreigner’ they’re looking for?” The answer: well um no, probably not… It’s just frustrating to watch situations like this develop.

5. This Vegan Life

I love the food here yet at the same time I’m constantly vexed over meat sneaking into just about anything. I was told that even 敬酒, a type of alcohol, includes ground antler. The other day I was eating out with a friend, and we made it super clear I was vegetarian. Out came the eggplant, greens, and lotus root—all looking amazing. As I was eating though, my stomach churned and I took a closer look. Everything was doused in butter. Pretty much felt like I was getting kicked in the stomach the rest of the day, but such is vegan life in China. Other times, I’m far too anal and end up eating rice noodles with hot water. Also so many bananas that I’ve become 猴子 or monkey to my roommates.

6. The Ethics of ‘Charity’ & the Language of the Oppressors

I apologize if this seems pretentious or overly ideological, but I have to get out my justification for being here. Since most of the fellows have received a liberal arts education, we’re often discussing what real ‘good’ we’re doing by teaching English. If we’re only teaching to a test, aren’t we just reinforcing an educational system that favors the richer urban population, rote memorization, and soul-crushing amounts of stress? By teaching English, aren’t we just further indoctrinating the world with Western culture? The only reason English is the global language is due to colonialism, no? What about the cultural capital of certain words? Why would we teach ‘video games’ (on the high school entrance exam) when these kids might not even have access to a computer? What real change can be affected in two short years? And lastly, if Teach For China’s goal was to be actuated and educational inequality was entirely erased, wouldn’t China (just like America) look for cheap labor elsewhere, thereby continuing said inequality? As I wrestle with these questions, I usually return to the idea of cross-cultural exchange. I think by being here, I am simultaneously learning about a different way of life, while also sharing that life with those of you across the globe. I may be teaching, but really I am the one learning about a different system of values. I may be teaching ‘English’ but what I really aim to do is instill a sense of self-confidence in my students. And though I disagree with the notion of ‘nation-states’, I hope I can be a face to that crazy America place. Because ultimately, I think everyone has something to learn from everyone else. Maybe you see China as a great big polluted tyrant, but try to remember America has huge problems, especially for being 150 years older.