Dear Jonathan...

From the afternoon that I met her in the hallway of the California hotel where we were to complete our pre-China training, I knew I wanted to be her friend.

And now, five years and fifty thousand memories later, I consider myself rich. She became my friend.

Confidant. Ally. Counselor. Sidekick. Sometimes my leader, sometimes my follower. Teammate—in every sense of the word. My number one sounding board. Travel buddy. Greatest encourager. True soul sister.

In this crazy life of living in a place where you don’t belong, a friend like this is rare, invaluable,  precious. Living no more than twenty feet away from each other the whole five years, we have bonded through shared purpose, deep joy, and confusing pain. The lattice of our friendship has been woven through a million moments…

Riding on the back of her electric scooter, ignoring traffic lights just like the locals

Five consecutive Christmas mornings of making our own traditions…complete with the precious box of CheezIts shipped in from America

Countless hangout time with students in our apartments

Rescuing each other from the crowds at English corner (Is it 8:30 yet??)

Experiencing the loss of one of our dearest Chinese friends

Nanchang Train Station at 2 am---“the not-good, the bad, and the ugly”

Me blissfully texting her in those moments when my love for the students threatens to explode my heart

#hashtagtexts

Meals together around the world (Thailand, China, Malaysia, Vietnam, USA)

Boat rides in three countries

Hotel horror stories (the filthy common squatty/shoilet and the mold in the bottom of the glasses!)

Being greeted with exploding firecrackers upon our arrival at a student’s countryside home

Dealing with the horrors of Chinese bathroom facilities---especially the time when I was showed to the restaurant’s bathroom which also functioned as the storage room of the establishment’s noodle supply (buckets of noodles sitting on the edge of the squatty potty)

Sleeping in foreign airports (Thailand, Vietnam)

Long, adventurous train rides throughout China

Fourteen hours on a "hard seat" train trip (once in a lifetime is enough!)

Inside jokes (“I only hate really stupid people”)

Bonding with the workers in the cafeteria, the copy shops, the milk tea shops…

Comforting a weeping student

Being stared at, everywhere—even by a bus driver who rubbernecked as he drove past us

Communicating in a foreign language

Christmas parties---hundreds of students, hundreds of cookies, hundreds of pictures

Cultural stress

Visiting graduated students in other cities, and reuniting with them in Nanchang

Lesson planning/ Teaching

The days when we used to shop at the busiest Wal-Mart in the world, on the busiest day

Watching movies/shows online (much more accessible over here but sometimes the subtitles go wacko!)

Talking to our Father together

Our birthday parties with students

KTV awesomeness

Talking about anything and everything, all the time

For five years, together we have chosen to love this place, these students. The Chang has broken into our souls and we have returned again and again. And now, we are saying goodbye to this place, this life, and to each other.

This Nanchang life has had its grimy, exhausting moments as well as its exhilarating, hilarious, and heartwarming ones.

I wouldn’t have wanted to experience the heartache and the wonder of this place with anyone else.

Frodo said it best:

"What about Sam? I want to hear more about him.

Frodo wouldn't have gotten far without Sam."

Thanks, Christine.

A Question of Stuff

Moving usually brings at least some sense of loss. Some re locations are viewed as exciting opportunities, while others break the hearts of the movers and those around them. And then there are the in-between moves, the mixed-bag transplants that have the movers torn between anticipation and nostalgia. I'm sure there are some moves which cause the re locators no end of relief, but even then, the move has changed something about their lives, and something (whether missed or not) has been lost.

Moving usually means saying goodbye. People, places, routines---there are things that must be left behind. But moving also involves a valiant attempt to transplant one's sense of home. In the West, we do this through stuff. We pack our mementos, our favorite towels, our important documents, and our stuffed animals into banana boxes and set forth to set up "home" in another place. Once this stuff is unpacked and set up in the new dwelling, we have taken our first steps to feeling less displaced.

So I am in a dilemma. I have a decorated, homey apartment full of five years of stuff. But I am not sure what to do with it, because after this move comes a year of limbo-transition. I plan to come back to the US for at least a year, dividing my time between my scattered family members who I miss so much. But I might come back to China after that and set up life in a new city. Then again, things might fall into place in another way and I might settle somewhere in the States for awhile. So, now it is a question of stuff.

Should I pack up everything and ship "life in China" stuff to a storage unit in Beijing, hedging my bets that I will come back? Should I only take three suitcases worth of my most precious mementos and my essential books and give everything else away? Should I ship a few things to Beijing, take the essentials, and leave the rest? Should I keep my matching coffee mugs, my cookie pans, and my glass pie dishes? Should I bring my favorite tea set back to the States so it can sit in a box in my Mom's garage, or should I consign it to a storage unit in Beijing, China? I didn't anticipate this part of the move being so complicated. I tried to go through my books this weekend, but realized that the size of the giveaway pile all depends on my final decision of what I will do with "the stuff."

Goodness, now I need some coffee.

Recently Read Books: Frances and Bernard

Frances and Bernard by Carlene Bauer

I love epistolary novels (books that tell the story through compiled letters), and I was hoping this book would be as amazing as two of my absolute favorites: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows and 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff (which are witty, warm, delightful exchanges between lovers of books), but I was disappointed. The book received rave reviews from so many readers, and so I expected great things. The story traces the correspondence between Frances and Bernard, two aspiring book writers with sharp intellects who become friends and eventually fall in love through letters. Bernard is headstrong and impulsive, a deep feeler who is given to bouts of mental trouble, while Frances is steady, logical, and a committed Catholic who discovers that emotions and compassion make the next logical step difficult to find. I enjoyed reading the letters at the beginning, watching these writers connect over poetry, life stories, writing, religious searches, and their own different temperaments, but as the book went on my enjoyment waned. I guess I did not find enough beauty in the writing or story to coat the tempests and dilemmas that consumed the ensuing letters. While it was not what I expected, this book gives a glimpse into the complexity of relationships, especially when one partner is needier than the other.

Recently Read Books: Elizabeth Street

Elizabeth Street by Laurie Fabiano

An account of an Italian family that settled in the US in the early 1900s, and based on true events, this story traces the life of Giovanna Costa from her marriage in Italy until the days when her children were growing up in New York. While Giovanna did not make it very far up the ladder of social or material success, she was an incredibly determined woman that survived some extremely tough times. Even in her serious encounters with the local branch of the mafia, she fought back with creativity and resourcefulness. Although the story is told in a rather rambling way and the writing is less than stellar, this book gave me insight into the difficulties encountered and overcome by Italian immigrants. I also gained an appreciation for the “sense of home” that they left behind---and how they truly felt like foreigners in their adopted country. I guess this book put faces, names, vignettes, and feelings to the sentence I sometimes say: “Well, my Great-grandparents emigrated from Italy…”

Bittersweet: Musings from a Steamy Room

Giving oral English exams is already a bit of a death wish. Sitting for hours without a break, listening to the same few topics being discussed with various levels of low-ish competency, constantly taking notes and making calls on grammar, pronunciation, vocabulary, content, fluency, and participation for two students at once drains the brain like a steady leak in an inflated inter tube. Before the end, the brain has gone flat and the mind is begging for mercy. I once gave oral exams for nine hours without a break. Ahem, something did break. My sanity.

(To preserve our mental stability, my colleagues and I now divide the oral exams into two weeks. Less brain damage that way.)

From the students' perspectives, oral exams can be terrifying. They are given a daunting list of class topics beforehand and are expected to use vocabulary learned in class during the exam. When fear prompts serious preparation, the results are quite beautiful. I have had students amaze me with their preparation. Everyone is nervous, but not all are ready. I don't mark them down for nervousness, but after five years of doing this, I can spot a well-prepared student in an instant, even a midst the jangle of nervous mistakes and pauses. Unprepared students are more obvious than a round hay bale in a newly--mowed field---and unfortunately, much more numerous.

Combine the pain of oral exams with searing heat, long wait times, and no AC, and you have just added a new level to the word "miserable." Both teacher and students would rather be swimming. And sometimes things go from bad to worse.

No! Unprepared student who did not show up with your exam partner for this morning's exam, now is not the time to ask your teacher to let you pass the class anyway. Not now, in this hot room in the afternoon where you have just flunked the exam she let you take. Now is not the time to endeavor to enlist her sympathy, when twelve groups of students wait outside her door, sweating in the hallway as they nervously anticipate her calling their names.

 “Please give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance, a chance to take the exam. Your pronunciation and grammar are amazing; but you were totally unprepared. You used one vocabulary word from class for the topic.”

“I used another word, too.”

“Two words from class is not enough to give you a good mark.”

I may sound cool and collected on paper but neither of us was in fine form that hot afternoon. He finally left, taking the fifteen minutes with him that he had stolen from all of the students waiting in the hall.

The classroom that was assigned to me actually has AC, but when I opened the door it was filled with students who thought it was un booked and were hoping to escape the heat. I elected to use the small side room with a broken door and a table littered with used tissues. I had used this room for mid-term exams, and the students and I had gotten locked in the room. That day, one of the boys jumped out of the window (only 3 feet above ground) and went around the building to let us out. 

Remembering that, I decide, this time, we won’t completely shut the door.

The students are hot, and most of them couldn’t fall asleep in their airless dorm rooms the night before. They sit down to begin their exam and I advise them to buy an inflatable swimming pool and set it up between their bunks. Nervously, they reach into the exam baggies to blindly choose their topics.

Some shine. Some flop. Many just get by. Some of them are so nervous I have to tell them to take deep breaths. Others seem composed.

Some make the most hilarious mistakes:

“I have many personalities.”  (He meant to say, I can say many things to describe my personality.)

“Long ago, there was a superman who had two sons.” (He meant to say, There was a rich man who had two sons.)

“I sink, if there was more terrorists, more happiness.” (He meant to say, More tolerance, more happiness.)

Some pairs make me smile:

Two boys come in with their biggest, winning smiles even though they serve up a poor exam. Usually good students, they know they have been weighed in the balances and found wanting. “Miss Sarah, can we pass?” They are laughing, embarrassed, and I laugh with them. “Um, not this exam!”

Certain classes have a higher level of English and their exam topics are much deeper. One pair of students pulls out the topic of discussing ethnocentrism.They demonstrate an ethnocentric conversation and I am laughing. Plus, they make the concept personal. “When we first came to Nanchang to study, we hated this place and hated Jiangxi. We love our hometown best.  But you know, this place is someone’s home, too.” They refer to clips from The King and I which we watched in class and my teacher-heart is warmed. Something stuck.

My brain is struggling as the exams drag on.  Out of habit, I say “See you later!” as the students stand up to leave. But now I realize with a pang in my heart, that's no longer true. Many of the students taking exams this term have only been mine for a semester (some for a year), but I will miss them.  Many of the students this Spring were such a joy to teach. And even after the ordeal of an oral English exam, some of them have told me that they will miss me, too. One sophomore girl began to cry hard, tears raining down her cheeks as she gave me a hug. I tightly hugged her back.

Students need classes; classes need a teacher, and both teacher and students need exams. We're all wrapped up in this together and saying goodbye to the worst part of the job means saying goodbye to the best part as well. 

Moments when I realize this make even the ending of oral exams bittersweet. 

A Name Runs Through It: ECIT

My first school will always have a special place in my heart. My two years of teaching at the East China Institute of Technology caused me to fall in love with Chinese college students and, surprisingly, with the gritty city of Nanchang. I love Nanchang because my students are here. And because this city holds a cornucopia  of memories which has enriched my life ten times over.

I stayed in Nanchang because of the students at ECIT. I only agreed to transfer to my present school (Nanhang) because it was not far from my old one. Eventually, I fell in love with Nanhang and the precious students here. But there is still a warm spot in my heart for ECIT.

So, Friday afternoon marked the passing of an era in my life. Not only was it my last day of teaching at my current school, I finished my last academic involvement with ECIT. You see, every fall semester, when I introduce myself to my new classes, I tell the students that I started out teaching at ECIT. And last fall, after I said this, a hand shot up out of the crowd of grad students and a voice exclaimed: "You were my teacher!"

I was floored. I did not recognize this student, but here he was, an ECIT graduate, on my roster for my Oral English class for grad students, here at Nanhang! He had been a student in my semester-long Speaking and Listening class when he was an ECIT freshman or sophomore, and now he would be my student for a year.

Throughout the year, I grew to love the students of that grad class, and ten of them once squeezed into my tiny living room for a fun time of games and laughter. The ECIT grad, Trey, was there and I told him: "You know, when I heard you were from my old school, I felt like I had met someone from home!" He flashed a smile: "Me too!"

On Friday, I gave that student his final oral English exam and he was well-prepared and not afraid to speak. Before he and his classmates said goodbye, I told him that I had to take a picture with "the last ECIT student". He posed for the picture and then handed me a small gift with a card which read:
 
  "Miss Sarah:
Thanks for the cultivation of Miss Sarah for two years. Maybe you can't remember, you give me a low score so that I failed the exam in the first year of my college life. So that I had lost the scholarship. At that time, there were a hatred sentiments in my mind. But when you say you come from ECIT in the first class of postgraduate class, I was excited. Just like found the friends and give me more comfort. So, the words before [about hatred sentiments] is just a joke. The failure [in my freshmen year] is my respons[ibility], I didn't study hard and scared of speaking in class. But during this year, I become more confidence. I found your are a good teacher, was oppassinate [compassionate? or passionate?] careful and beautiful.
    I really thanks to you, I think everyone of our class must be sad when we knew you will come back to America. I wish you will happy no matter where are you.
    Your (ECIT) student,
    Trey

Book-ending my teaching in Nanchang with ECIT students: I wouldn't have it any other way.

Savoring, Cherishing, Remembering

"Just give me a little more time!

I want to love the things

as no one has thought to love them,

until they're worthy of you and real."

---Rainer Maria Rilke

"Because simply to be here is so much

and because what is here seems to need us,

this vanishing world that concerns us strangely---

us, the most vanishing of all. Once

for each, only once. Once and no more.

And we too: just once. Never again. But 

to have lived even once,

to have been of Earth---that cannot be taken from us."

---Rainer Maria Rilke