By Ruth
It's my "supposed to be writing homework" time again, so naturally I am seeking distraction. One week from today we will be on an airplane headed back to America. I'm looking forward to it. Granted, the more homework I get done now the less I will have to do when I get out of here, but that's not proving strong enough motivation at the moment.
For now, I am just really-really happy to be done giving my oral final examinations. Since I teach Oral English, all of my students come in to talk with me. I had them come in in groups of two to do a dialogue and then answer a question. Not so bad, except when you have to see 330 students over the course of 825 minutes. Actually, it was probably a couple of hours longer than 825 minutes, and I felt every moment of it. I have given oral finals every semester in the past but for some reason, this semester was definitely the most painful of all. It was about as bad as having to take a bunch of final exams.
After an hour or two, my mind stops registering words. I'm sure my students must notice the dazed look on my face. The timer beeps and I realize I have no idea what they were just saying. So much for objective grading. I did hear a few interesting things, in those times I remembered to listen. Like my student who said the best gift he'd ever received was a toothbrush. That's either really sad or really weird, but I'm leaning toward the really weird. It was electric, I'll give him that, but he was really excited about it. It's like my sister or something.
Sometimes the lack of understanding wasn't my fault, though. The times when I would ask a question and the students started talking about something totally unrelated. The times when it would take students a minute to get out half a dozen words. The times when I couldn't quite tell if the words they were speaking were indeed English. Painful.
The first few days were also incredibly hot, and they don't really do A/C here. So I sat in a hard classroom desk craning my neck up to look at students, swatting away flies, my clothes sticking to me from sweat, grabbing at papers that keep being pushed away by the fan (which seems to have very little cooling power).
Yesterday, my last day of finals, wasn't so hot; instead it was incredibly windy. So examinations were punctuated by doors slamming every minute or so. At one point, the classroom door got stuck closed...a combination of strong winds and bad door knobs. It took me, two students inside, and a whole cluster of students outside pushing and pulling to finally get it open.
Fortunately, the pain is over. I just have a bunch of exam grade sheets to add up, a task unto itself, as I never underestimate the difficulty of addition. Next week I just have my last classes, "fun" classes. We're going to listen to a song, play some games, and probably get out early. Which will give me more time to work on the homework I'm not doing right now.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
That Aisle
You may have wondered about the sudden burst of blogging activity in these past few weeks. It isn’t because we were inwardly convicted or our lives suddenly became more fascinating. It is, in fact, the old standby…Procrastination. We have a lot of masters’ work to finish in the next few weeks. And somehow, when I sit down to write something for a class, a whole bunch of other more interesting ideas come to mind. You may not think they are so amusing, but consider this: would you rather read random blog musings or my class paper? That’s what I would rather write as well.
So today when I went to the supermarket I was thinking about a funny China phenomenon: The Feminine Product aisle. (Capitalizing makes it seem more significant, doesn’t it?) For starters, it is indeed a whole entire aisle. There are a lot of things that China doesn’t have, but it’s certainly not lacking in feminine products. If you are a guy, it’s entirely possible you’ve never even been in said aisle in America, since its mere proximity makes you sweat. So I will enlighten you: in America it is maybe half an aisle of 3-4 brands. Chinese supermarkets, however, boast dozens of brands, and within each brand dozens of varieties of size, shape, scent, packaging picture, and other yet-to-be discovered variations. It’s capitalism at its height. Even our campus store, which is smaller than a gas station mini-mart, has an entire aisle dedicated to Feminine Products.
One thing I find to be especially funny is that you will usually see one or two guys in this aisle, browsing with their girlfriends. And they aren’t even doing the awkward “how did I get into this” stance or the shifty “I’m pretending I’m not here” eyes. They are actively involved in the selection process. They will pick up and examine packages to compare with their girlfriends. They seem about as natural as when they are holding a woman’s purse or wearing pink shoes. In other words, completely natural.
While we are on the subject (a subject that probably won't come up very often, so I'd better take advantage of it), I am reminded of a funny story (not my own). Students sometimes bring gifts when they come to visit our homes - usually something like fruit or strange little knick-knacks. But a past teacher in Yangzhou was once given a gift of sanitary napkins. Her student (a girl, thankfully) said, “This is my favorite brand, and I think you will like them.” I wish that would happen to me. It would be a priceless experience.
Anyway, I thought I would share this interesting bit of Chinese culture with you. You can’t read about these things in the travel books. Some things just have to be experienced.
So today when I went to the supermarket I was thinking about a funny China phenomenon: The Feminine Product aisle. (Capitalizing makes it seem more significant, doesn’t it?) For starters, it is indeed a whole entire aisle. There are a lot of things that China doesn’t have, but it’s certainly not lacking in feminine products. If you are a guy, it’s entirely possible you’ve never even been in said aisle in America, since its mere proximity makes you sweat. So I will enlighten you: in America it is maybe half an aisle of 3-4 brands. Chinese supermarkets, however, boast dozens of brands, and within each brand dozens of varieties of size, shape, scent, packaging picture, and other yet-to-be discovered variations. It’s capitalism at its height. Even our campus store, which is smaller than a gas station mini-mart, has an entire aisle dedicated to Feminine Products.
One thing I find to be especially funny is that you will usually see one or two guys in this aisle, browsing with their girlfriends. And they aren’t even doing the awkward “how did I get into this” stance or the shifty “I’m pretending I’m not here” eyes. They are actively involved in the selection process. They will pick up and examine packages to compare with their girlfriends. They seem about as natural as when they are holding a woman’s purse or wearing pink shoes. In other words, completely natural.
While we are on the subject (a subject that probably won't come up very often, so I'd better take advantage of it), I am reminded of a funny story (not my own). Students sometimes bring gifts when they come to visit our homes - usually something like fruit or strange little knick-knacks. But a past teacher in Yangzhou was once given a gift of sanitary napkins. Her student (a girl, thankfully) said, “This is my favorite brand, and I think you will like them.” I wish that would happen to me. It would be a priceless experience.
Anyway, I thought I would share this interesting bit of Chinese culture with you. You can’t read about these things in the travel books. Some things just have to be experienced.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The Gow-Cow
by Kevin
Today is the biggest day in the lives of many Chinese students: the beginning of the Gaokao - the College Entrance Exam. Or, as Xinhua called it a three-day "battle to determine their fate."
As we went to lunch today, parents were lined up outside of the area's high schools, praying, nervously pacing, waiting for their future meal-ticket, er, child to emerge victoriously.
Many will emerge disappointed, since the admission rate is around 62 percent (according to Xinhua).
Generally, this is the ONLY criteria colleges in China use for admissions. Nobody looks at high school grades or extracurricular activities. After all, most high school students in China have no time for extracurricular activities because they spend every spare moment trying to prepare for this exam. Even if the high school had service clubs, basketball or ping-pong teams, students probably wouldn't have time for them.
We've heard stories about students who get up every morning at 5 a.m. to begin studying before school, go to class from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., then continue studying until 11:30 p.m., with only a half-hour nap in the middle. No wonder their social skills resemble that of junior high schoolers by the time they get to college.
Students here have told of the elaborate, high-tech, ways that students cheat on the high-stakes exam. One said that she has friends who placed a tiny radio devise in her ear. Then when the exam began, a distant voice relayed the correct answers for many questions. Others said that they've heard stories about teachers allowed their students to cheat (the pressure is also extremely high on the teachers to show that they can prepare their students well).
Just last week, in the office, my student Jane was telling me about the Sichuan earthquake last year. She said that she and her classmates were studying for the college entrance exam when it hit -- just a month before their big day. Nobody was hurt, except for a boy who jumped from the third floor and broke his legs. They all slept under the stars at school because they weren't allowed to go home afterwards. Then, finally, she said the school told them to go home and prepare on their own for the exam.
They spent a month on their own cramming. Then, they showed up on the days of the exam. "I haven't seen most of my classmates since then. We didn't even get to take photos together."
No photos. No graduation. No ritual. No rite-of-passage. It was just over.
This is how she wound up at this college. It's generally a disappointing prospect for students to be here at a not-so-prestigious teacher's college, even more so to be part of the "three-year" program, which earns a certificate a little lower than a bachelor's degree. Jane is a three-year student. Jane didn't mention this, but three-year students didn't do well enough on the gaokao to gain full-fledged status in college. If you need 60% to get in, maybe they got 50%.
Unfortunately, since bloggger is blocked here, I can't add these links to the body of the text, so I'll add them here:
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2007-06/06/content_888098.htm
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/2009-06/07/content_11502991.htm
Today is the biggest day in the lives of many Chinese students: the beginning of the Gaokao - the College Entrance Exam. Or, as Xinhua called it a three-day "battle to determine their fate."
As we went to lunch today, parents were lined up outside of the area's high schools, praying, nervously pacing, waiting for their future meal-ticket, er, child to emerge victoriously.
Many will emerge disappointed, since the admission rate is around 62 percent (according to Xinhua).
Generally, this is the ONLY criteria colleges in China use for admissions. Nobody looks at high school grades or extracurricular activities. After all, most high school students in China have no time for extracurricular activities because they spend every spare moment trying to prepare for this exam. Even if the high school had service clubs, basketball or ping-pong teams, students probably wouldn't have time for them.
We've heard stories about students who get up every morning at 5 a.m. to begin studying before school, go to class from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., then continue studying until 11:30 p.m., with only a half-hour nap in the middle. No wonder their social skills resemble that of junior high schoolers by the time they get to college.
Students here have told of the elaborate, high-tech, ways that students cheat on the high-stakes exam. One said that she has friends who placed a tiny radio devise in her ear. Then when the exam began, a distant voice relayed the correct answers for many questions. Others said that they've heard stories about teachers allowed their students to cheat (the pressure is also extremely high on the teachers to show that they can prepare their students well).
Just last week, in the office, my student Jane was telling me about the Sichuan earthquake last year. She said that she and her classmates were studying for the college entrance exam when it hit -- just a month before their big day. Nobody was hurt, except for a boy who jumped from the third floor and broke his legs. They all slept under the stars at school because they weren't allowed to go home afterwards. Then, finally, she said the school told them to go home and prepare on their own for the exam.
They spent a month on their own cramming. Then, they showed up on the days of the exam. "I haven't seen most of my classmates since then. We didn't even get to take photos together."
No photos. No graduation. No ritual. No rite-of-passage. It was just over.
This is how she wound up at this college. It's generally a disappointing prospect for students to be here at a not-so-prestigious teacher's college, even more so to be part of the "three-year" program, which earns a certificate a little lower than a bachelor's degree. Jane is a three-year student. Jane didn't mention this, but three-year students didn't do well enough on the gaokao to gain full-fledged status in college. If you need 60% to get in, maybe they got 50%.
Unfortunately, since bloggger is blocked here, I can't add these links to the body of the text, so I'll add them here:
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2007-06/06/content_888098.htm
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/2009-06/07/content_11502991.htm
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Staking a Claim
We were a little slow getting started with our Chinese lesson. Generally before we delve into Chinese, we begin with a little small talk. Lily, our tutor from the Chinese department, usually has some interesting stories to share. This week she was talking about the studying she did over last weekend’s holiday and suddenly we stumbled upon an interesting topic: the study rooms at the library.
Apparently there are four large study rooms in the library. Overall, they possibly accommodate a thousand students…and there are over 15,000 students at our university. The library officials try to discourage students from “claiming” seats in the study rooms, but that’s what happens anyway.
The first day of each semester, students will get up early and head to the library at 6am. It doesn’t open that early, so a crowd will wait outside. Once the doors open, the students will run up the stairs to the fourth and fifth floor study rooms, racing for a good seat.
On this first day, the students need to stay at their claimed desk for at least several hours to affirm their rightful ownership. They will leave a few books behind to mark their space, “useless” books, so there is no big loss if they are taken. Then throughout the rest of the semester, they can use their claimed space. Lily said some students will really treat it like home, leaving food or bags there, even bringing in flowers!
The freshmen students don’t know about this “seat claiming” ritual, so they always lose out. Of course, there are plenty of empty classrooms to study in. They are usually not as crowded, but Lily said they are sometimes noisier. She prefers the good study atmosphere of being surrounded by 200 diligent students.
Occasionally there will be fights if another student tries to occupy a claimed seat. Several times students have gotten really upset about it, hitting and yelling and causing a scene. This sort of behavior is one of the reasons the library doesn’t want students to save seats. So every month or so, the library workers will come through at night and move everyone’s books and items off the desks. It doesn’t work. The next day, the students come back in and reclaim their same territory, unchallenged again until next month’s sweep.
Lily has a claimed seat, but she said she doesn’t get mad when someone uses it. “Usually it is just a freshman who comes and stays for a few hours. After they leave, I will go back to my seat.”
Apparently there are four large study rooms in the library. Overall, they possibly accommodate a thousand students…and there are over 15,000 students at our university. The library officials try to discourage students from “claiming” seats in the study rooms, but that’s what happens anyway.
The first day of each semester, students will get up early and head to the library at 6am. It doesn’t open that early, so a crowd will wait outside. Once the doors open, the students will run up the stairs to the fourth and fifth floor study rooms, racing for a good seat.
On this first day, the students need to stay at their claimed desk for at least several hours to affirm their rightful ownership. They will leave a few books behind to mark their space, “useless” books, so there is no big loss if they are taken. Then throughout the rest of the semester, they can use their claimed space. Lily said some students will really treat it like home, leaving food or bags there, even bringing in flowers!
The freshmen students don’t know about this “seat claiming” ritual, so they always lose out. Of course, there are plenty of empty classrooms to study in. They are usually not as crowded, but Lily said they are sometimes noisier. She prefers the good study atmosphere of being surrounded by 200 diligent students.
Occasionally there will be fights if another student tries to occupy a claimed seat. Several times students have gotten really upset about it, hitting and yelling and causing a scene. This sort of behavior is one of the reasons the library doesn’t want students to save seats. So every month or so, the library workers will come through at night and move everyone’s books and items off the desks. It doesn’t work. The next day, the students come back in and reclaim their same territory, unchallenged again until next month’s sweep.
Lily has a claimed seat, but she said she doesn’t get mad when someone uses it. “Usually it is just a freshman who comes and stays for a few hours. After they leave, I will go back to my seat.”
Thursday, June 4, 2009
"Trouble is a Friend"
We've had some issues with updating our blogs thanks to a certain anniversary that just took place in China. However, several people have asked about how the "cheating episode" turned out. I didn't want to bore you with all the details, but given your interest, here goes:
I considered several options, weighing the balance between justice and mercy, punishment and forgiveness. I thought about sticking to my guns and forgiving the students morally while still punishing them for their actions. I considered simply allowing the students to keep the grades they'd earned through cheating (about half the cheaters still managed to fail even with the help). Finally, I thought about simply giving them a new, more difficult, exam and only counting that for their score.
After having my meeting with the students, I decided on the last option. I created a new exam for them and told students to meet me in the lobby of the building, so I could bring them to a new classroom. I questioned the fact that "every" student really cheated on the initial exam (China is a collective society, so I figured it wasn't outside of the range of possibility that some students may have admitted to cheating when in fact they hadn't), but since everyone signed the paper and asked if I would give them a new test, I gave the exam to each of them.
However, for the first question, I asked the following: "How and why did you cheat on your exam (if you did not cheat and just signed the letter because you wanted to support your classmates, now would be a good time to tell me. I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice for your friends, but I don't want to punish you unjustly by making you retake your exam)?"
Naturally, my plan was thwarted again: for the last couple months the school has relentlessly been scheduling away all of the student's spare time with time-intensive out-of-class activities. This week it came in the form of a dance competition. Naturally, the "cheating" class had made it to the finals, which were scheduled for -- you guessed it -- my class time. So, about one-third of the class couldn't be there for the beginning of our two-hour lesson. They said they were scheduled to perform seventh, so they should be able to return for the second half of our class time. I scrambled to make the best of a bad situation that had just turned worse.
"Ok," I told them, "Come back as soon as you are finished. I will begin my lecture, then I will give the exam as soon as you return."
They didn't come until there was only 15 minutes left. Not nearly enough time to complete the exam. My next class would begin 30 minutes after this one.
I scrambled to figure out a new approach. I shared a parable about a king committed to carrying out the law, stepping in to take the punishment of a law-breaking son. Then I explained why I was willing to forgive them. I understood their reasons for cheating, but I could not condone it. I told them that I was willing to forgive them because I have been forgiven for so much more. I thanked the students for their confessions, then I forgave them and told them that I hoped that they could see this as a learning experience. Some seemed moved by the story, but others seemed disinterested.
I handed out their updated exams and, knowing they wouldn't have time to finish it, instructed them to label the map first (since this was the most common way they'd cheated on the initial exam), then answer the other questions.
In grading, I took a hybrid approach. Instead of counting the original map, I replaced that part of their score with the new map. On top of that, for those who confessed to cheating (about half the class), I deducted 10% from their final scores. For those who just signed the paper to support their classmates, I didn't reduce their scores.
I still am unsure whether I handled the situation the best way. The last couple weeks, I've been grappling with the issue anew as I prepare for a class this summer on "Cross-Cultural Conflict." While this isn't the same issue as the Rwandan genocide or South African apartheid, the issue resonates for me. How should we forgive? Is it possible to have true reconciliation in absence of confession on the part of both sides for their role in the conflict? Thankfully my students confessed. If this happens again in the future and students DON'T confess, what approach should I take? Some of the students said their desks had numerous answers written on them BEFORE they arrived to take the exam. That means students in another class cheated, but I don't know who it was. Can there be reconciliation with those who didn't confess? True, I don't know who they are, but now I'm suspicious of all. I've had to take the step of forgiving all of them. But that doesn't make me any less suspicious. Next exam, I think we'll be finding a new classroom at the last minute.
As I write this conclusion, a strangely-appropriate song, "Trouble is a Friend," by Australian singer Lenka plays over the loudspeakers that blare over campus each day at noontime:
"Trouble will find you
No matter where you go
Oh, oh
No matter if you're fast
No matter if you're slow
Oh, oh
The eye of the storm
wanna cry in the morn
Oh, oh
You're fine for a while
But you start
To lose control
He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
he's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
Trouble is a friend
But trouble is a foe
Oh, oh
And no matter
What I feed him
He always seems to grow
Oh, oh
He sees what I see
And he knows
What I know
Oh, oh
So don't forget
As you ease
On down my road
He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
So don't be alarmed
If he takes you
By the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
For his charm
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
How I hate the way
He makes me feel
And how I try
To make him leave
I try
Oh, oh, I try
But he's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
So don't be alarmed
If he takes you
By the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
For his charm
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
Ooh
Ahh
Ooh"
I considered several options, weighing the balance between justice and mercy, punishment and forgiveness. I thought about sticking to my guns and forgiving the students morally while still punishing them for their actions. I considered simply allowing the students to keep the grades they'd earned through cheating (about half the cheaters still managed to fail even with the help). Finally, I thought about simply giving them a new, more difficult, exam and only counting that for their score.
After having my meeting with the students, I decided on the last option. I created a new exam for them and told students to meet me in the lobby of the building, so I could bring them to a new classroom. I questioned the fact that "every" student really cheated on the initial exam (China is a collective society, so I figured it wasn't outside of the range of possibility that some students may have admitted to cheating when in fact they hadn't), but since everyone signed the paper and asked if I would give them a new test, I gave the exam to each of them.
However, for the first question, I asked the following: "How and why did you cheat on your exam (if you did not cheat and just signed the letter because you wanted to support your classmates, now would be a good time to tell me. I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice for your friends, but I don't want to punish you unjustly by making you retake your exam)?"
Naturally, my plan was thwarted again: for the last couple months the school has relentlessly been scheduling away all of the student's spare time with time-intensive out-of-class activities. This week it came in the form of a dance competition. Naturally, the "cheating" class had made it to the finals, which were scheduled for -- you guessed it -- my class time. So, about one-third of the class couldn't be there for the beginning of our two-hour lesson. They said they were scheduled to perform seventh, so they should be able to return for the second half of our class time. I scrambled to make the best of a bad situation that had just turned worse.
"Ok," I told them, "Come back as soon as you are finished. I will begin my lecture, then I will give the exam as soon as you return."
They didn't come until there was only 15 minutes left. Not nearly enough time to complete the exam. My next class would begin 30 minutes after this one.
I scrambled to figure out a new approach. I shared a parable about a king committed to carrying out the law, stepping in to take the punishment of a law-breaking son. Then I explained why I was willing to forgive them. I understood their reasons for cheating, but I could not condone it. I told them that I was willing to forgive them because I have been forgiven for so much more. I thanked the students for their confessions, then I forgave them and told them that I hoped that they could see this as a learning experience. Some seemed moved by the story, but others seemed disinterested.
I handed out their updated exams and, knowing they wouldn't have time to finish it, instructed them to label the map first (since this was the most common way they'd cheated on the initial exam), then answer the other questions.
In grading, I took a hybrid approach. Instead of counting the original map, I replaced that part of their score with the new map. On top of that, for those who confessed to cheating (about half the class), I deducted 10% from their final scores. For those who just signed the paper to support their classmates, I didn't reduce their scores.
I still am unsure whether I handled the situation the best way. The last couple weeks, I've been grappling with the issue anew as I prepare for a class this summer on "Cross-Cultural Conflict." While this isn't the same issue as the Rwandan genocide or South African apartheid, the issue resonates for me. How should we forgive? Is it possible to have true reconciliation in absence of confession on the part of both sides for their role in the conflict? Thankfully my students confessed. If this happens again in the future and students DON'T confess, what approach should I take? Some of the students said their desks had numerous answers written on them BEFORE they arrived to take the exam. That means students in another class cheated, but I don't know who it was. Can there be reconciliation with those who didn't confess? True, I don't know who they are, but now I'm suspicious of all. I've had to take the step of forgiving all of them. But that doesn't make me any less suspicious. Next exam, I think we'll be finding a new classroom at the last minute.
As I write this conclusion, a strangely-appropriate song, "Trouble is a Friend," by Australian singer Lenka plays over the loudspeakers that blare over campus each day at noontime:
"Trouble will find you
No matter where you go
Oh, oh
No matter if you're fast
No matter if you're slow
Oh, oh
The eye of the storm
wanna cry in the morn
Oh, oh
You're fine for a while
But you start
To lose control
He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
he's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
Trouble is a friend
But trouble is a foe
Oh, oh
And no matter
What I feed him
He always seems to grow
Oh, oh
He sees what I see
And he knows
What I know
Oh, oh
So don't forget
As you ease
On down my road
He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
So don't be alarmed
If he takes you
By the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
For his charm
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
How I hate the way
He makes me feel
And how I try
To make him leave
I try
Oh, oh, I try
But he's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
So don't be alarmed
If he takes you
By the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
For his charm
Trouble is a friend
Yeah
Trouble
Is a friend of mine
Ahh
Ooh
Ahh
Ooh"
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Fate of Unlucky Girls
It’s always interesting to hear students’ stories, even if it is one variation of the same story over and over again, it amazes me each time. Tonight I was talking to two of my students in the office, and one of the students was telling me about her good friend.
Her friend was from Xinjiang province (the farthest west in China) but moved to Xian (the city near us) when she was 13. She came alone, and she knew no one. She came because her father had died. He had some sort of disease and came to Xian for medical treatment, but the treatment failed and he died.
“What about her mother?” I asked. “Did she not have a mother?”
“No,” my student said, “She had a mother. But her mother didn’t like her.”
The girl had been born at an unlucky time. Apparently each year there are certain times that are unlucky for birth. Some people think that babies born during these times will cause harm for their family, especially brothers or fathers. They are thought to have some sort of medical power. My students said that these beliefs are common in the countryside all over China, but not as much in the city.
If a family has a child during an unlucky time, they may give the child a different family name than their own. This is to counterbalance the unluckiness or to keep harm away from the rest of the family. This happened to someone in my student’s family, who still has a different family name than her parents and siblings.
So my student’s friend moved away when she was 13 because her family felt like she caused her father’s death. The first night in the city she slept on the street, but after that she found a school to attend.
We moved on to talking about traditional attitudes toward girls. One of the students said her grandfather did not like her and was unhappy when she was born. “I don’t know why,” she said, “but now that I am grown up he likes me.”
The other one said her grandmother does not like her. Her grandmother likes her brother and is always giving him gifts and treating him well, but she does not like my student. Her cousin also doesn’t like her. Her cousin had three girls, each time trying for a boy. The third time, he left his youngest daughter on the floor of the hospital, hiding outside until someone came and took her.
“But we are very lucky,” my students said.
Most of my students are girls. I hear a lot of these stories. But somehow it amazes me every time.
Her friend was from Xinjiang province (the farthest west in China) but moved to Xian (the city near us) when she was 13. She came alone, and she knew no one. She came because her father had died. He had some sort of disease and came to Xian for medical treatment, but the treatment failed and he died.
“What about her mother?” I asked. “Did she not have a mother?”
“No,” my student said, “She had a mother. But her mother didn’t like her.”
The girl had been born at an unlucky time. Apparently each year there are certain times that are unlucky for birth. Some people think that babies born during these times will cause harm for their family, especially brothers or fathers. They are thought to have some sort of medical power. My students said that these beliefs are common in the countryside all over China, but not as much in the city.
If a family has a child during an unlucky time, they may give the child a different family name than their own. This is to counterbalance the unluckiness or to keep harm away from the rest of the family. This happened to someone in my student’s family, who still has a different family name than her parents and siblings.
So my student’s friend moved away when she was 13 because her family felt like she caused her father’s death. The first night in the city she slept on the street, but after that she found a school to attend.
We moved on to talking about traditional attitudes toward girls. One of the students said her grandfather did not like her and was unhappy when she was born. “I don’t know why,” she said, “but now that I am grown up he likes me.”
The other one said her grandmother does not like her. Her grandmother likes her brother and is always giving him gifts and treating him well, but she does not like my student. Her cousin also doesn’t like her. Her cousin had three girls, each time trying for a boy. The third time, he left his youngest daughter on the floor of the hospital, hiding outside until someone came and took her.
“But we are very lucky,” my students said.
Most of my students are girls. I hear a lot of these stories. But somehow it amazes me every time.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Old Woman Enjoying Shaanxi Opera
Shaanxi Opera is a special form of grating Chinese music that the old people here are quite fond of. Every weekend and most weekdays in the main city square, you can find groups of old people playing traditional Chinese instruments. There's generally a man or woman singing traditional opera (if you've ever heard Beijing Opera, aka Peking Opera, you get the idea). The other day, I even spotted several musicians practicing in the outdoor dining area at McDonalds (I wish I had my camera that day).
I just uploaded a bunch of photos of people playing and enjoying Shaanxi Opera in the city square, in addition to shots of the Sports Meeting, our trip to Xi'an a couple weeks ago and other stuff to flickr. Check them out here:http://www.flickr.com/photos/kevsunblush/
I just uploaded a bunch of photos of people playing and enjoying Shaanxi Opera in the city square, in addition to shots of the Sports Meeting, our trip to Xi'an a couple weeks ago and other stuff to flickr. Check them out here:http://www.flickr.com/photos/kevsunblush/
Friday, May 8, 2009
A big-time apology
By Kevin
Friday afternoon, an unknown number popped up on the cell phone.
Friday afternoon, an unknown number popped up on the cell phone.
"This is the monitor from class 1," she began. "I want to apologize because several of us cheated on your examination yesterday, we want to ask you to forgive us."
"I am willing to forgive you, but I am still deciding what I will do." I said.
She passed the telephone to a classmate, who dove into a long run-on sentence that combined an apology with excuses about how the class is too difficult, but that they were wrong to do what they did. "Several of us cheated on your exam. Will you please forgive us? We have washed the desks in the class and would like to meet with you so we can talk about it together. Would you be willing to give us another examination?"
Unfortunately, our Chinese lesson was about to begin. "Unfortunately, I will be busy this afternoon, but we can meet another time. I am willing to forgive you, but I am still deciding what I will do."
I met with six representatives from the class a couple hours later. I wondered: did the man in the office who I asked about changing the classroom say something or did they come to this conclusion on their own? Maybe they heard from the class that took the exam right after they did. Maybe they just saw that I'd scratched out their answers on the desks.
When they came over, the students spent more than an hour apologizing and then giving me advice for how I can make their class better. Just what every teacher wants: a lecture from his students.
The class monitor explained that she called a meeting of her classmates that morning and every student except for one had signed a letter of apology admitting that they had cheated. The one student who didn't sign insisted that she did not cheat. Now, I don't think that this many actually cheated (not every desk had answers written upon it), but since China is a very collective culture, undoubtedly, some students decided to stand alongside their classmates, in hopes that I'd give everyone another chance.
Here is their apology:
"A Letter of Apology"
Our dear teacher Kevin:
We are your students in 07ET1. We are sorry for our performance in your examing class. we admitted that we had done wrong, and we bave already realized our stupid behaves. We were cheating not only our teacher but also ourselves. We have had twice exams for this lesson during the semester. What we want to say to you is that it's too difficult for us to learn this course well, in your class we fixed our mind to listen to you but still can catch a little information. The vocabulary in our lessons is too large. So it's difficult for us to understand and learn them by heart. We were anxious about the coming of the exam and even didn't take a rest at noon before the exam. In order to pass the exam, the majority of us cheated in it and the rest of us kept honest. So please forgive us this time and give us a chance to correct our fault by taking another exam. We promise we won't do the same stupid thing again, please pardon us!
We sincerely hope that you and your beautiful wife Ruth live a happy live in China and may your jobs fares well.
Thank you for reading our letter.
Department of foreign English,
07ET1
(each student signed their names)
I also thanked the students for apologizing to me early rather than waiting until I brought the matter up. I told them that I appreciated their courage to ask for forgiveness, even if I doubted that they would have done so if they hadn't been caught. I told them that I would forgive them because I have been forgiven for much. I told them that they will be taking another, more difficult exam. Probably an essay-based exam. Their maximum possible score on the exam will also be reduced.
I'm still deciding exactly how I will lecture the rest of the class on the seriousness of their offense in a way that may help them to realize their need for a grace bigger than that I can give.
This is not how I wanted to mark Ruth's birthday.
Thankfully, in the evening, the team gathered to celebrate Ruth's day. We made pizzas and cake, played Settlers (Ruth won), and watched Ruth's favorite movie: "Benny & Joon."
The plot thickens
Thursday night, May 7
by Kevin
I just had the realization that my Tuesday class was in the same classroom where mass cheating going on. My joy that several of them seemed to do better on this exam has morphed into suspicion. This has also made my reaction to the class I caught more complicated: some of the desks may have had answers written upon them before Tuesday's exam, so some of Thursday's culprits may not be guilty. Grr.
by Kevin
I just had the realization that my Tuesday class was in the same classroom where mass cheating going on. My joy that several of them seemed to do better on this exam has morphed into suspicion. This has also made my reaction to the class I caught more complicated: some of the desks may have had answers written upon them before Tuesday's exam, so some of Thursday's culprits may not be guilty. Grr.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Once a cheater, always a cheater?
by Kevin
Today my frustrations with my culture classes boiled over into full-on anger. Anger mixed with sorrow about my student's souls.
Today I caught almost an entire class -- 34 of 44 -- cheating on an exam.
But before I get into that, let me back up a day. During the exam I gave yesterday, I spotted one girl who was mysteriously looking back and forth between her paper and her desk.
"What could she be looking at?" I wondered as I walked towards her. She slyly shifted her paper to the side, covering the area her eyes had been examining. I made a mental note of her name and where she was sitting, so I could get a closer look at her desk after almost everyone had left the room. After all, maybe something else was going on.
Sure enough, maps of Australia and New Zealand, which is one part of what they were being tested on, had been faitlfully drawn onto the desk. Now, most of the time these sort of things go unnoticed, because Chinese students are notorious for writing all over their desks. There isn't a single desk in the class that doesn't have writing scrawled all over it.
"What are you looking at?" asked the one student who was left in class, after handing me her exam. "She wrote the answers on her desk," I said, shaking my head.
She pulled out the blasphemous phrase every Chinese student seems to know to use when something shocking has happened:
"Oh my God," she exclaimed in mock horror. "How terrible. What will you do?"
"I am still deciding."
"I think when someone cheats, they must be punished, yes?"
"Yes."
I continued looking at other desks and soon discovered that others had used the same tactics. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure who had been sitting in those desks, since many change seats each week.
Fast forward one day. Now, my cheat-dar is on high alert as I give the an exam to another class. I spot a handful of eyes that are following the same track as the girl did yesterday, dancing back and forth between papers and their desks. Briefly, I consider nailing them now, but suddenly I had a thought: "I'll make note of where everyone is seated and then come check their desks after the exam. I begin writing out a seating chart, noting each student's name as I walk by."
After they leave, I began making the rounds.
By now I'm fuming. I pull out a blue permanent marker and begin drawing lines through their answers on the desks, to shame them.
By the time I finished, only a handful of desks were left without blue marks.
And there was another class about to come into the same room to take the same exam. I hurried up to the department office and found another a room we could move to for the exam. "Is there a department policy on cheating?" I asked Mr. Wang, explaining what had happened. "No, there isn't."
As I waited in the original classroom, counting down the minutes to when the next exam would begin, I watched the students cramming for their exam, curious if they would realize that the teacher was onto them. Several hurried students came into class, sat in their seat and noticed that answers had been scratched out. As they pointed it out to their neighbors, I gave them a knowing nod. But not everyone caught on. One girl, oblivious, frantically scribbled out a few answers onto her desk.
"I discovered that most of the students in the last class had written answers for the test on their desks," I announced. "If it was you who did it, you should be ashamed because you may have just made another student fail." Several students ashamedly looked down, avoiding eye contact. A few nervously giggled. I continued: "So the first thing we are going to do today is move to another classroom. Please stand and follow me."
I followed the same tactic in the new room. But now most students were rightfully fearful of being caught. I drew a seating chart with each student's name and watched them like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse leaving its hole. Again, after they left I checked their desks. This time I only found two cheaters: apparently, in the minute or so that I wrote instructions on the board, these brazen cheaters managed to scribble down a quick map. Unbelievable.
As Wes put it, "They don't see cheating as wrong, unless they get caught."
Again, I left the room angry. I saw a couple girls in the hallway. They smiled, nervously.
But now I have a dilemma: first of all, what should I do? Should I give them all the zero they've been promised for cheating on an exam or should I give them another chance? A big part of me says fail them. Unfortunately, it's not clear-cut exactly WHO cheated. Was it the first student sitting at the desk or had the student who would be in the room to take the exam second come in early and scribbled down the answers? There were a couple of desks with TWO maps of Australia drawn on them.
The justice-seeker says, "Just give them a zero." The merciful part says, "Make them take a new exam." Yet another part says, "Maybe they can just go to another classroom and fill out this small part of the exam again?" Wes had an interesting idea, considering that China is a shame-based culture: "Call each student who cheated to the front of the room and give them a choice: I draw a line on your forehead or I give you a zero." That sounds extreme, but I'm at a loss right now.
I know many of you who read this are teachers. What would you do if you potentially cheating?
I ache for their souls. Integrity and honesty have such a small part in their studies. If they're willing to cheat on something as small as this (really, in the grand scheme of things, my class matters very little to them), how can they be trusted in bigger things? I wonder how many of them already cheated on college entrance exams? How many will do it again with their TEM-4? How many will bribe someone to find a job? When they become teachers, will they go on to enable their students to simply follow in their footsteps?
So, yes, all that to say, right now I'm at a loss. Bad China day? Yes.
Today my frustrations with my culture classes boiled over into full-on anger. Anger mixed with sorrow about my student's souls.
Today I caught almost an entire class -- 34 of 44 -- cheating on an exam.
But before I get into that, let me back up a day. During the exam I gave yesterday, I spotted one girl who was mysteriously looking back and forth between her paper and her desk.
"What could she be looking at?" I wondered as I walked towards her. She slyly shifted her paper to the side, covering the area her eyes had been examining. I made a mental note of her name and where she was sitting, so I could get a closer look at her desk after almost everyone had left the room. After all, maybe something else was going on.
Sure enough, maps of Australia and New Zealand, which is one part of what they were being tested on, had been faitlfully drawn onto the desk. Now, most of the time these sort of things go unnoticed, because Chinese students are notorious for writing all over their desks. There isn't a single desk in the class that doesn't have writing scrawled all over it.
"What are you looking at?" asked the one student who was left in class, after handing me her exam. "She wrote the answers on her desk," I said, shaking my head.
She pulled out the blasphemous phrase every Chinese student seems to know to use when something shocking has happened:
"Oh my God," she exclaimed in mock horror. "How terrible. What will you do?"
"I am still deciding."
"I think when someone cheats, they must be punished, yes?"
"Yes."
I continued looking at other desks and soon discovered that others had used the same tactics. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure who had been sitting in those desks, since many change seats each week.
Fast forward one day. Now, my cheat-dar is on high alert as I give the an exam to another class. I spot a handful of eyes that are following the same track as the girl did yesterday, dancing back and forth between papers and their desks. Briefly, I consider nailing them now, but suddenly I had a thought: "I'll make note of where everyone is seated and then come check their desks after the exam. I begin writing out a seating chart, noting each student's name as I walk by."
After they leave, I began making the rounds.
By now I'm fuming. I pull out a blue permanent marker and begin drawing lines through their answers on the desks, to shame them.
By the time I finished, only a handful of desks were left without blue marks.
And there was another class about to come into the same room to take the same exam. I hurried up to the department office and found another a room we could move to for the exam. "Is there a department policy on cheating?" I asked Mr. Wang, explaining what had happened. "No, there isn't."
As I waited in the original classroom, counting down the minutes to when the next exam would begin, I watched the students cramming for their exam, curious if they would realize that the teacher was onto them. Several hurried students came into class, sat in their seat and noticed that answers had been scratched out. As they pointed it out to their neighbors, I gave them a knowing nod. But not everyone caught on. One girl, oblivious, frantically scribbled out a few answers onto her desk.
"I discovered that most of the students in the last class had written answers for the test on their desks," I announced. "If it was you who did it, you should be ashamed because you may have just made another student fail." Several students ashamedly looked down, avoiding eye contact. A few nervously giggled. I continued: "So the first thing we are going to do today is move to another classroom. Please stand and follow me."
I followed the same tactic in the new room. But now most students were rightfully fearful of being caught. I drew a seating chart with each student's name and watched them like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse leaving its hole. Again, after they left I checked their desks. This time I only found two cheaters: apparently, in the minute or so that I wrote instructions on the board, these brazen cheaters managed to scribble down a quick map. Unbelievable.
As Wes put it, "They don't see cheating as wrong, unless they get caught."
Again, I left the room angry. I saw a couple girls in the hallway. They smiled, nervously.
But now I have a dilemma: first of all, what should I do? Should I give them all the zero they've been promised for cheating on an exam or should I give them another chance? A big part of me says fail them. Unfortunately, it's not clear-cut exactly WHO cheated. Was it the first student sitting at the desk or had the student who would be in the room to take the exam second come in early and scribbled down the answers? There were a couple of desks with TWO maps of Australia drawn on them.
The justice-seeker says, "Just give them a zero." The merciful part says, "Make them take a new exam." Yet another part says, "Maybe they can just go to another classroom and fill out this small part of the exam again?" Wes had an interesting idea, considering that China is a shame-based culture: "Call each student who cheated to the front of the room and give them a choice: I draw a line on your forehead or I give you a zero." That sounds extreme, but I'm at a loss right now.
I know many of you who read this are teachers. What would you do if you potentially cheating?
I ache for their souls. Integrity and honesty have such a small part in their studies. If they're willing to cheat on something as small as this (really, in the grand scheme of things, my class matters very little to them), how can they be trusted in bigger things? I wonder how many of them already cheated on college entrance exams? How many will do it again with their TEM-4? How many will bribe someone to find a job? When they become teachers, will they go on to enable their students to simply follow in their footsteps?
So, yes, all that to say, right now I'm at a loss. Bad China day? Yes.
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