by Ruth
The freshmen have arrived. This has been evidenced by:
- Huge banners, balloons, and blow-up welcoming arches
- Lost looking kids wandering around with suitcases
- All day announcements and music blared through the loudspeakers (alternating between quiet elevator-type music, loud, patriotic marches, and high-pitched operas)
- A special 2.5 hour welcoming program of speeches and performances
- Thousands of kids walking around in matching wind-suits and now…
- Thousands of kids broken into class groups, standing in line, turning, and marching together
- The leaders counting off “yi, er, san, si” followed by “YI, ER, SAN, SI” from the students
Unlike in America, the freshmen arrive two weeks after the older students. They have a short orientation and then go through military training before classes. Military training is when they stand in lines and shout out numbers. After a while, they will add marching and turning to the regimen. They do this all day long (with of course the lunch/nap break in the middle, because it would be inhumane to not allow a mid-day nap). It seems like it would be pretty boring, but some of the students say they have fond memories from that time. I guess in all the time that they are standing around doing nothing, they talk to their classmates and start getting to know each other.
We thought the freshmen would have two weeks of military training, but now it appears that they will start classes next week, which means that we will need to start teaching them next week. Kevin and I are teaching half sophomores and half freshmen, so this first couple of weeks we’ve had significantly less to do. I guess we should figure out what we're going to teach these little freshmen. Darn it…now we actually have to work. What a drag.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Noticing the details
Aug. 30, 2009
By Kevin
She'd been standing in the middle of our living room for several minutes gazing at the photograph.
"It's wonderful," she repeatedly said with wonder. "So beautiful."
Lily, our Chinese tutor, marveled at the trees surrounding Ruth's parent's home in Georgia. She stroked the grass with her finger. Everything about it was so different from her experience. The home is on several acres of land, surrounded by lush green grass and trees.
"Is it made of wood?" she asked, noticing the texture of the walls in the background of a family photo. Many of her questions are things we simply take for granted.
She explained how most Chinese homes are made of brick or cement. Most Chinese people live in multi-story apartment buildings unless they live in the countryside. I thought about how I've seen Chinese builders frequently pull the rebar out as concrete hardens so they can reuse it to erect the next level of an apartment building. I wonder whether or not they left the rebar in our walls.
She was amazed that Ruth's parent's home was somewhat typical in America.
"Kevin, what about your family's home?" I'd forgotten to print out a photograph, but I explained that it too was made of wood, noting that the prevalence of earthquakes in California means more wooden homes because they handle the shaking better. My mind flashes to pictures of the damage done in the Sichuan earthquake two years ago and compare it to the comparatively light damage I've seen when the ground shakes in California.
"Is that your car?" Lily asked Ruth, pointing to the foreground.
"My mother's."
"Does everyone in America have a car?"
"Not everyone, but probably most people."
Her friend Cherry was amazed to discover that our families don't all live in the same city and that many Americans, particularly in more rural areas don't know their neighbors well because they hop into cars and travel from place to place rather than walking or taking the bus. "In my hometown there are 300 who all know each other," Cherry said.
Just before this, as they were paging through our America photographs, they gasped when they saw the skyscrapers of Chicago. "Did you take this?" She asked. We couldn't remember if it was one I snapped or if Ruth took it. "The sky is so blue," Lily said. "So beautiful."
She was shocked. "I had heard that most developed countries do not have clean air," she said. but the sky here is very clean."
It's interesting how they noticed all the little details in photos that we never think of.
They spotted the castle-like administration building in the background of Wheaton graduation photos, wondered why a skyscraper would be labeled "Westin," and giggled at photos of Abby and Hannah playing with a magnifying glass, remembering how they too played dress-up as young girls. Seeing photographs of family, they were shocked to discover that both of our grandmothers still wear makeup. "In China, most women stop wearing makeup when they are 60," Lily explained. They were also amazed that our grandparents are still independent that they don't want to live with their children, even though they are in their 80s. In a photos of family, their eyes were drawn to the fireplaces in the background. "Do people burn wood in America?" Cherry asked. "In China we usually burn coal."
After convincing Lily to set the photos down, we played a game of Uno. I was amazed because these were the first two Chinese students we've played with who actually pronounced the word correctly "Oooh-no" not "You-no."
Then, as we chatted, Cherry sat down and began to play with Ruth's stuffed giraffes Geoffrey and Gloria, teaching us the animal's Chinese name: cháng jǐng lù - which means "long-necked deer."
Finally, though, the temptation to return to their studies set in and we parted ways. These girls are seniors hoping to study Chinese as post-graduate students in Beijing next year, so they spend most of their waking hours studying for January's post-graduate exam. It's good to be back getting into the flow of China life.
By Kevin
She'd been standing in the middle of our living room for several minutes gazing at the photograph.
"It's wonderful," she repeatedly said with wonder. "So beautiful."
Lily, our Chinese tutor, marveled at the trees surrounding Ruth's parent's home in Georgia. She stroked the grass with her finger. Everything about it was so different from her experience. The home is on several acres of land, surrounded by lush green grass and trees.
"Is it made of wood?" she asked, noticing the texture of the walls in the background of a family photo. Many of her questions are things we simply take for granted.
She explained how most Chinese homes are made of brick or cement. Most Chinese people live in multi-story apartment buildings unless they live in the countryside. I thought about how I've seen Chinese builders frequently pull the rebar out as concrete hardens so they can reuse it to erect the next level of an apartment building. I wonder whether or not they left the rebar in our walls.
She was amazed that Ruth's parent's home was somewhat typical in America.
"Kevin, what about your family's home?" I'd forgotten to print out a photograph, but I explained that it too was made of wood, noting that the prevalence of earthquakes in California means more wooden homes because they handle the shaking better. My mind flashes to pictures of the damage done in the Sichuan earthquake two years ago and compare it to the comparatively light damage I've seen when the ground shakes in California.
"Is that your car?" Lily asked Ruth, pointing to the foreground.
"My mother's."
"Does everyone in America have a car?"
"Not everyone, but probably most people."
Her friend Cherry was amazed to discover that our families don't all live in the same city and that many Americans, particularly in more rural areas don't know their neighbors well because they hop into cars and travel from place to place rather than walking or taking the bus. "In my hometown there are 300 who all know each other," Cherry said.
Just before this, as they were paging through our America photographs, they gasped when they saw the skyscrapers of Chicago. "Did you take this?" She asked. We couldn't remember if it was one I snapped or if Ruth took it. "The sky is so blue," Lily said. "So beautiful."
She was shocked. "I had heard that most developed countries do not have clean air," she said. but the sky here is very clean."
It's interesting how they noticed all the little details in photos that we never think of.
They spotted the castle-like administration building in the background of Wheaton graduation photos, wondered why a skyscraper would be labeled "Westin," and giggled at photos of Abby and Hannah playing with a magnifying glass, remembering how they too played dress-up as young girls. Seeing photographs of family, they were shocked to discover that both of our grandmothers still wear makeup. "In China, most women stop wearing makeup when they are 60," Lily explained. They were also amazed that our grandparents are still independent that they don't want to live with their children, even though they are in their 80s. In a photos of family, their eyes were drawn to the fireplaces in the background. "Do people burn wood in America?" Cherry asked. "In China we usually burn coal."
After convincing Lily to set the photos down, we played a game of Uno. I was amazed because these were the first two Chinese students we've played with who actually pronounced the word correctly "Oooh-no" not "You-no."
Then, as we chatted, Cherry sat down and began to play with Ruth's stuffed giraffes Geoffrey and Gloria, teaching us the animal's Chinese name: cháng jǐng lù - which means "long-necked deer."
Finally, though, the temptation to return to their studies set in and we parted ways. These girls are seniors hoping to study Chinese as post-graduate students in Beijing next year, so they spend most of their waking hours studying for January's post-graduate exam. It's good to be back getting into the flow of China life.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Cricket
by Ruth
When I was home this summer, I thought about how nice it was to listen to the symphony of crickets as I fell asleep at night. It was such a summer-in-the-south, woodsy,country sort of sound. Well, the past few nights we've had a cricket take up residence on the laundry porch next to our bedroom and start it's own little little symphony. It's not quite the same.
Moral #1: Some things which are beautiful from a far are annoying up close.
Moral #2: Just because you sound fine singing in a group doesn't mean you should try it alone.
When I was home this summer, I thought about how nice it was to listen to the symphony of crickets as I fell asleep at night. It was such a summer-in-the-south, woodsy,country sort of sound. Well, the past few nights we've had a cricket take up residence on the laundry porch next to our bedroom and start it's own little little symphony. It's not quite the same.
Moral #1: Some things which are beautiful from a far are annoying up close.
Moral #2: Just because you sound fine singing in a group doesn't mean you should try it alone.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Coming "Home"
by Ruth
We have made it back to Weinan, after various means of travels and two days of meetings in Beijing. We arrived on the train this morning and have already gotten settled back in, plus had a cleaning crew come in to deep clean the apartment. It's such a nice feeling to be in a clean house (Although, half an hour after they cleaned, the dining table was already covered with enough dust to run your finger through. That's what happens when the windows are open, which is what happens when your A/C still doesn't work.) Now we are just trying to press through the exhaustion/jetlag for long enough until we can justify going to bed.
While we were in Beijing with other teachers, I kept hearing people talking about "going home" to their schools. For some people, who have lived here a long time, that seems legitimate. This is probably their home more than anywhere else. With other people, it seemed kind of fake...like campers calling their cabin "home" or something like that. But perhaps that's just me being judgmental.
It was nice to come back to Weinan, to our familiar apartment with all our things. It is nice to know our way around, to greet the guard at the gate and the owners of our favorite restaurants. But would I really call this home? It still seems too temporary. Only slightly more permanent than college. Sometimes I even feel like I'm not quite telling the truth when I tell people I live in China. Because I still go back to the states every year, I am still away from here for 3-4 months a year, I still have a US passport and a white face to show I don't belong. So does it count to say that I really live here?
I guess, after moving to so many different places in the past few years, I hold things more loosely. I know I can't quite get settled in. I never forget that anything I bring home I will soon have to pack up and move out. I wonder what "home" really means? After you live in a place for X months/years, does it automatically become home? Does it mean a place where you hang up pictures and put down rugs? I have those things. But to me, home signifies a certain sense of belonging; whether through ownership or memories or family, you have a claim to the place. Home means stability. Roots. Depth that doesn't come with one or two years. That's not what I have here.
It's not such a bad thing, just the way things are. And still, I felt satisfied when I opened my wardrobe and saw all my clothes hung neatly inside. It is a good feeling to come back to a desk drawer that is as cluttered as I left it. Maybe that means I do belong here, even if it's only for a few years, even if it's not quite home.
I am almost up to the 9pm mark, which means I am completely justified in going to bed. Good thing too, because my brain just went on standby. Which means, this is the end.
We have made it back to Weinan, after various means of travels and two days of meetings in Beijing. We arrived on the train this morning and have already gotten settled back in, plus had a cleaning crew come in to deep clean the apartment. It's such a nice feeling to be in a clean house (Although, half an hour after they cleaned, the dining table was already covered with enough dust to run your finger through. That's what happens when the windows are open, which is what happens when your A/C still doesn't work.) Now we are just trying to press through the exhaustion/jetlag for long enough until we can justify going to bed.
While we were in Beijing with other teachers, I kept hearing people talking about "going home" to their schools. For some people, who have lived here a long time, that seems legitimate. This is probably their home more than anywhere else. With other people, it seemed kind of fake...like campers calling their cabin "home" or something like that. But perhaps that's just me being judgmental.
It was nice to come back to Weinan, to our familiar apartment with all our things. It is nice to know our way around, to greet the guard at the gate and the owners of our favorite restaurants. But would I really call this home? It still seems too temporary. Only slightly more permanent than college. Sometimes I even feel like I'm not quite telling the truth when I tell people I live in China. Because I still go back to the states every year, I am still away from here for 3-4 months a year, I still have a US passport and a white face to show I don't belong. So does it count to say that I really live here?
I guess, after moving to so many different places in the past few years, I hold things more loosely. I know I can't quite get settled in. I never forget that anything I bring home I will soon have to pack up and move out. I wonder what "home" really means? After you live in a place for X months/years, does it automatically become home? Does it mean a place where you hang up pictures and put down rugs? I have those things. But to me, home signifies a certain sense of belonging; whether through ownership or memories or family, you have a claim to the place. Home means stability. Roots. Depth that doesn't come with one or two years. That's not what I have here.
It's not such a bad thing, just the way things are. And still, I felt satisfied when I opened my wardrobe and saw all my clothes hung neatly inside. It is a good feeling to come back to a desk drawer that is as cluttered as I left it. Maybe that means I do belong here, even if it's only for a few years, even if it's not quite home.
I am almost up to the 9pm mark, which means I am completely justified in going to bed. Good thing too, because my brain just went on standby. Which means, this is the end.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Rich
by Ruth
I have been thinking lately about how rich we are. I heard recently that if you make $25,000 a year, you are in the top 5% of the world’s population (If you make $50,000, you jump up to the top 1%). We don’t make that much money. In fact, in America we would be considered below the poverty line, which is ridiculous because we are rich.
Admittedly, I don’t think that much about being rich. I’m much more likely to notice all the things we don’t have. I get jealous of people who have houses and nice furniture and new clothes. I usually compare myself to that other 5% and feel sorry for myself.
I have been thinking about richness especially in light of all the economic struggles here. A lot of people have lost their jobs, have lower salaries, or have lost their homes. And yet, most of them aren’t living on the street. Most of them still have food to eat and clothes to wear and cars to drive. Most of them are still rich.
I often feel poorer when I come back to America and remember the things I don’t have. Recently I have been thinking more about everything I do have.
I will steal an idea from a friend in Honduras, Will Meeks, who recently made a list of the things that make him feel rich. These are a few of my own:
-Going to McDonalds in China
-Driving a car
-Owning a computer
-Flying instead of taking 30 hour train rides
-Not wearing the same clothes every day (unless I want to… )
-Eating meat
-Having heat and (sometimes) A/C
-Drinking purified water
-Owning a whole collection of books
-Having belongings that are stored away
-A savings account
-Buying imported food in China
-Having more than a car full of belongings
-Being able to give money away without real sacrifice
-Rugs, throw pillows, and items that are just for decoration
-Eating out
-Being able to travel back and forth to America
I have been thinking lately about how rich we are. I heard recently that if you make $25,000 a year, you are in the top 5% of the world’s population (If you make $50,000, you jump up to the top 1%). We don’t make that much money. In fact, in America we would be considered below the poverty line, which is ridiculous because we are rich.
Admittedly, I don’t think that much about being rich. I’m much more likely to notice all the things we don’t have. I get jealous of people who have houses and nice furniture and new clothes. I usually compare myself to that other 5% and feel sorry for myself.
I have been thinking about richness especially in light of all the economic struggles here. A lot of people have lost their jobs, have lower salaries, or have lost their homes. And yet, most of them aren’t living on the street. Most of them still have food to eat and clothes to wear and cars to drive. Most of them are still rich.
I often feel poorer when I come back to America and remember the things I don’t have. Recently I have been thinking more about everything I do have.
I will steal an idea from a friend in Honduras, Will Meeks, who recently made a list of the things that make him feel rich. These are a few of my own:
-Going to McDonalds in China
-Driving a car
-Owning a computer
-Flying instead of taking 30 hour train rides
-Not wearing the same clothes every day (unless I want to… )
-Eating meat
-Having heat and (sometimes) A/C
-Drinking purified water
-Owning a whole collection of books
-Having belongings that are stored away
-A savings account
-Buying imported food in China
-Having more than a car full of belongings
-Being able to give money away without real sacrifice
-Rugs, throw pillows, and items that are just for decoration
-Eating out
-Being able to travel back and forth to America
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Clouds that Move
by Ruth
I just finished my first section of our comprehensive exams. As I was madly writing (probably the first time I’ve written 9 pages in 3 hours), I kept looking out the window and getting distracted by the clouds because they were moving. I had honestly forgotten that they do that. It seems like such a simple, fundamental thing to forget about, but we don’t have too much experience with the cumulous variety of clouds in
I talk most often about all the food I miss, and it really has been wonderful to drink milk every day and casually browse the cereal aisle. But what I miss even more is the aesthetic beauty I see all around me here. I am amazed by the nature and color and cleanliness all around. In
At
In
These are the things I miss even more than Multi-bran Chex. My first year in
I guess these will be the things I’ll always miss and marvel at rediscovering.
(This is all so whimsical and sentimental it kind of makes me laugh, but then I have been reading the Anne of Green Gables series, and my mind is always affected by what I’m reading. It’s hard not to like enjoying a book that’s entirely pleasant once in a while.)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Fake Graduation
by Ruth
Even though we have better internet access and blogger isn't blocked, this summer has been incredibly busy overall, thus the lack of blog posts. We are still back in the states, though now we have moved from GA on to Wheaton, where we just graduated from our master's program.
Well, kind of. We had a little graduation type ceremony with the other people in our summer program, but we aren't actually finished with the work yet. This week Kevin and I have been meeting with a professor to finish an independent study class. Next week Kevin will have one more class on Cross-Cultural Conflict. This weekend and next weekend we will be doing our comprehensive exams, so we are preparing for those. So even though we had the little ceremony, we've still got lots of work to do.
In a little over a week, however, I will be completely finished! I'm really looking forward to that. Kevin still has two last distance learning classes to complete this fall. Both of our families (or at least, parts of them) came up to visit and see us fake-graduate. I will post a few pictures to keep you happy until there is time to do a real blog again.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Back to America
We're back. Enjoying a day with friends, family, A/C, Mexican food, root beer, fast internet, a Braves game on TV :-) ... all the kinds of things we don't get much of in China.
Our journey home began after a restless night in which our air conditioning in China decided to stop spewing out cold air and instead simply regurgitate warm, stuffy air. Not too restful. Thankfully the school brought us to the Xi'an airport (1 hour away) in an air conditioned van.
When we got to the air port two hours before our flight, they still hadn't begun checking anyone in for international flights, so we began waiting. By the time they opened the check-in line, we'd admired some Chinglish. At the front of the line was where the problems began. during the 10-15 minutes she spent trying to check us in, the rest of the passengers had been sent through security checks and were waiting to board the plane. She frantically began making phone calls, finally getting approval from a supervisor to let us on. My guess was that someone made a mistake when applying my passport number to the ticket, but since she spoke very little English, it's all a guess.
Our Korean Air flight to Seoul left about 15 minutes late, but not too bad. Then in Korea, we encountered another problem when we handed our tickets to the ticket-takers just before boarding - "go over there," please, they told us, pointing to the service desk. There, we were handed new boarding passes with an ominous note about baggage, which gave us the impression that it might not make it to the plane. Unfortunately the Seoul to Atlanta leg wasn't on Korean Air as we'd hoped. Instead it was on Delta (Korean is well-regarded for it's service, Delta isn't).
We were seated in seats 40 B and H. I don't know why they didn't seat us together, but we figured, surely someone will want to change seats. I asked my two neighbors, but neither wanted to trade a window or aisle for a middle seat (I don't blame them). Thankfully Ruth's seatmates were a couple who wanted to sit together, so finally, I got one of my seatmates to move. This was the first time I've ever flown on a long internationl flight that has the cool in-seat entertainment centers in them. Every other time, I've been forced to crane my neck to watch overhead displays show whatever lame movies the airline had picked out for us. This time we had more than 100 movies, music, and even games to choose from on our cool touch screen. "Maybe Delta is OK," we thought. Since I couldn't sleep, I managed to watch no less than FIVE movies during the flight, in addition to getting some grad school reading done. I watched Best in Show (grade: A-, lots of laughter) simultaneously with Ruth, then we diverged, Ruth watched several chick flicks and I opted for a variety of films: The Flash of Genius (B+, surprisingly good story about inventor of intermentant windshield wipers), Bedtime Stories (C+ funny, but silly & predictable Adam Sandler movie), Gran Torino (A, excellent, very deep, movie about much more than the title implies), Burn After Reading (B-, Cohen Bros - odd but interesting characters, like most Cohen movies, I'll probably like it more on a second viewing). Only managed about an hour of sleep in our 17 hours of flying (almost 3 hrs from Xi'an to Seoul & 14 hours from Seoul-Atlanta).
When we touched down in Atlanta, there was no gate for our airplane, so we got to spend another hour sitting on the runway, waiting. Wish I would have gone for the sixth movie. We were amazed at the diversity of people. I kept finding myself staring at people. Surprised cuz the security people even made small talk with us about friends living in China. I can't imagine guards in Los Angeles, let alone China, doing that.
After waiting and waiting and waiting for our bags to finally arrive, we grabbed them and started heading for the exit, then realized we weren't done just yet: at the Atlanta airport, some genious decided that customs should be next to the international gate. Unfortunately, that gate is miles from the exit, so we had to now re-check our luggage and go through security AFTER going through customs. Since when is there security to LEAVE an airport? We hopped on the train, which brought us to the other terminal and met Ruth's family, then we had to wait again, while our luggage came to us.
We finally got out of the airport a good 2 hours after we'd touched down - about 24 hours after leaving Weinan, I think (though my math is a little fuzzy with all the time changes). We swung by the Varsity and enjoyed the best onion rings and fried apple pies around (along with a chili dog), then made our way toward beds. I slept like a baby for 10 hours. Ruth wasn't so lucky, only 6 hours or so for her before jetlag strangeness kicked in. Hopefully tonight works out a little better.
Our journey home began after a restless night in which our air conditioning in China decided to stop spewing out cold air and instead simply regurgitate warm, stuffy air. Not too restful. Thankfully the school brought us to the Xi'an airport (1 hour away) in an air conditioned van.
When we got to the air port two hours before our flight, they still hadn't begun checking anyone in for international flights, so we began waiting. By the time they opened the check-in line, we'd admired some Chinglish. At the front of the line was where the problems began. during the 10-15 minutes she spent trying to check us in, the rest of the passengers had been sent through security checks and were waiting to board the plane. She frantically began making phone calls, finally getting approval from a supervisor to let us on. My guess was that someone made a mistake when applying my passport number to the ticket, but since she spoke very little English, it's all a guess.
Our Korean Air flight to Seoul left about 15 minutes late, but not too bad. Then in Korea, we encountered another problem when we handed our tickets to the ticket-takers just before boarding - "go over there," please, they told us, pointing to the service desk. There, we were handed new boarding passes with an ominous note about baggage, which gave us the impression that it might not make it to the plane. Unfortunately the Seoul to Atlanta leg wasn't on Korean Air as we'd hoped. Instead it was on Delta (Korean is well-regarded for it's service, Delta isn't).
We were seated in seats 40 B and H. I don't know why they didn't seat us together, but we figured, surely someone will want to change seats. I asked my two neighbors, but neither wanted to trade a window or aisle for a middle seat (I don't blame them). Thankfully Ruth's seatmates were a couple who wanted to sit together, so finally, I got one of my seatmates to move. This was the first time I've ever flown on a long internationl flight that has the cool in-seat entertainment centers in them. Every other time, I've been forced to crane my neck to watch overhead displays show whatever lame movies the airline had picked out for us. This time we had more than 100 movies, music, and even games to choose from on our cool touch screen. "Maybe Delta is OK," we thought. Since I couldn't sleep, I managed to watch no less than FIVE movies during the flight, in addition to getting some grad school reading done. I watched Best in Show (grade: A-, lots of laughter) simultaneously with Ruth, then we diverged, Ruth watched several chick flicks and I opted for a variety of films: The Flash of Genius (B+, surprisingly good story about inventor of intermentant windshield wipers), Bedtime Stories (C+ funny, but silly & predictable Adam Sandler movie), Gran Torino (A, excellent, very deep, movie about much more than the title implies), Burn After Reading (B-, Cohen Bros - odd but interesting characters, like most Cohen movies, I'll probably like it more on a second viewing). Only managed about an hour of sleep in our 17 hours of flying (almost 3 hrs from Xi'an to Seoul & 14 hours from Seoul-Atlanta).
When we touched down in Atlanta, there was no gate for our airplane, so we got to spend another hour sitting on the runway, waiting. Wish I would have gone for the sixth movie. We were amazed at the diversity of people. I kept finding myself staring at people. Surprised cuz the security people even made small talk with us about friends living in China. I can't imagine guards in Los Angeles, let alone China, doing that.
After waiting and waiting and waiting for our bags to finally arrive, we grabbed them and started heading for the exit, then realized we weren't done just yet: at the Atlanta airport, some genious decided that customs should be next to the international gate. Unfortunately, that gate is miles from the exit, so we had to now re-check our luggage and go through security AFTER going through customs. Since when is there security to LEAVE an airport? We hopped on the train, which brought us to the other terminal and met Ruth's family, then we had to wait again, while our luggage came to us.
We finally got out of the airport a good 2 hours after we'd touched down - about 24 hours after leaving Weinan, I think (though my math is a little fuzzy with all the time changes). We swung by the Varsity and enjoyed the best onion rings and fried apple pies around (along with a chili dog), then made our way toward beds. I slept like a baby for 10 hours. Ruth wasn't so lucky, only 6 hours or so for her before jetlag strangeness kicked in. Hopefully tonight works out a little better.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Finally Done with Finals
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.
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.
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.
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