Chinglish+Love=Laughter

Chinese students often bring smiles to my face. My students make me smile through the notebooks they choose for their homework records (because the covers are a scream!) as well as what they write on their personal surveys and homework records. The funniest thing is that all of these items often reference the topic of love.

Allow me to share the smiles.

    This notebook cover begs to be read aloud in varying degrees of volume, with great emotion, and interspersed with laughter.

     These survey answers refused to flip right, but hopefully they still bring a smile to your face.

This notebook cover's bizarre "Love Chapter" references made me chuckle. 

My students' tendency to misuse the phrase "puppy love" makes me smile.

I suppose some would not find the juxtaposition of these two words as odd as I did. But I certainly smiled.

Their honesty makes me smile. Who doesn't wish for such a perfect boyfriend/girlfriend?

This notebook cover's noble description of "The Handsome Men" caused me to spend the rest of my day looking for "Him"/ "Them".

This homework reflection made me smile, and wince...hahah. 

Checking homework is not the most enjoyable task, but my students' choices of  words and notebooks keeps me chuckling...and looking for love. Hahah!

Recently Read Books: Hannah Coulter

Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

I bought this book because a reader with great taste (check out her blog at  www.thoroughlyalive.com) absolutely loved it. She said someone had given it to her to read with these words: "Read it slowly. It's too precious." I had tried Wendell Berry before and was skeptical of this high praise, but I started to read. I must say, I did not read it slowly: I started in the late morning and finished by suppertime. And then I laid my head down on my couch pillow and cried. I have not been so deeply "moved" (the word my students would choose :-) by a book in a long time. This book was beautiful, and indeed "precious." The beauty of the story is difficult to explain, since it is merely Hannah Coulter telling her unremarkable life story of growing up and living and farming outside of a small Kentucky town near the Ohio River. And yet, to read this story is to enter into the mystery of the human experience in its beauty, sorrow, questions, sweat, joy, and sense of belonging. The two main themes that achingly stirred my soul were:

     1) Hannah's sense of belonging, her sense of "home" in this community as well her sense of belonging in the beauty of the fields and the woods
     2) The intangible oneness, stitched-together-in-soul-ness that formed the bedrock of this couple's life which was full of hard work and constant wrestling with the land

A brilliant author is one who can write unremarkable stories of normal humanity in a way that somehow connects the reader with the preciousness of life under all it's daily struggle. Reading this book is like drinking a long, cold drink from a good, deep well on a hot summer's day. A drink that goes straight to your soul.

Scenes: A Day

 Snapshots from Morning Class:

Heads were spinning after I drew, explained, and quizzed my students on all the relationships in my family tree. I was truly thankful that I was behind the podium and not at a desk in a Chinese class on family language, because I would have been in tears. The myriad of Chinese words which describe each specific family relationship (with different words for those on your mother/father's side) is a mammoth task which I have not yet attempted to master.  But here I was, announcing that my students were going to draw out their own family trees and explain them in English. As I walked around the room, I saw papers slowly, sometimes painfully, filling up with Chinese names and English labels. One in particular caught my attention. Here was a visible illustration of how family size has drastically decreased in the last generation. I felt like I had stumbled upon a sociological microcosm, snapshot, or log, and so I asked if I could take a picture. Admittedly, the family tree was not finished because there were still cousins to be recorded. But I was fascinated.

And here are two more family trees on a single sheet of paper:

                                                         Seen At lunchtime:

Any time the sun comes out, the laundry will too. And in the most unlikely places. As I was leaving the cafeteria, I spotted a worker's scaffold doing double-duty as a clothesline, probably for one of the families who works in the cafeteria.

Last week I noticed that the flowering trees outside of the classroom building were also serving as a clothesline, or, the most beautiful coat-rack I'd ever seen.

Beholdings from Afternoon class: 

My friends Larry and Jim, who have served me faithfully since my first year in China, and  have participated in every lesson on "Small Talk" conversations. Today, they did not fail to charm this term's new students despite their limp necks and rattly eyes. (The uncomplimentary descriptions referring of course, to the puppets.)

Spied On the Street:

While walking back to my apartment, I saw this ominous message in plain sight, right on a main campus thoroughfare! No one else seemed disturbed, but I would have felt better if Christian Bale was in Nanchang. (Since Heath Ledger obviously was.)

                                                         

 Views from the Evening

My living room:

My student's face, wet with the tears that come with expressing the worries of approaching graduation and facing the horrors of society's high-pressured rat-race.

English Corner:

Familiar faces. New faces. Freshmen and sophomores surrounding me in a tight circle, talking. 

The dorms:

Beloved students. Laughing. A girl biting into a fresh cherry tomato and spewing the juice in my direction. 

The campus:

Students practicing rollerblading on the huge, smooth, sunken concrete circle in front of the Students' Center Building. Couples on their evening walks. Outdoor exercise equipment clinking together as some students complete their work-outs in the dusk. The neon blue of the lakeside lights reflected on the water through the willows. The long, empty stretch of campus road curving around the lake and up to the foreign teacher's apartment building, which I call home.

Some of My Top Favorite Books

---A few of my favorite books of all time, from the top of my head (that means I am not looking at my bookshelves (since most of them are in America), so I will probably forget many other favorites L). I guess these books would be ones that shaped my thinking in seismic ways, or touched me to the core of my soul. J

Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner (fiction)

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather  (historical fiction)

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens (historical fiction)

In the Arena by Isobel Kuhn (biography)

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler (fiction)

Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury (fiction)

Hannah Coulter by Wendell Barry (fiction)

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (fiction)

Peace Like a River by Leif Enger (fiction)

Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss (spiritual/fiction)

Evidence Not Seen by Darlene Diebler Rose (biography)

Hind’s Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard  (allegory)

Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azur Nafizi  (nonfiction)

Cross-Cultural Conflict by Duane Elmer (nonfiction)

Cross-Cultural Servant hood by Duane Elmer (nonfiction)

The Valley of Vision (devotional/Puritan prayers)

                               What are the books that have shaped you?

Falling in Love in a Classroom

In the autumn of 2008, a brand-new English teacher arrived on the campus of ECIT, in the city of Nanchang, China. Everything around her was drenched in sweat; the cafeteria was so steamy she couldn't eat, and the apartment was bare and dusty. She wondered if she would ever feel at home.

On the first day of class, the school assigned her to the wrong classroom; she plopped her teaching bag on the podium only to be approached by a nervous student, “Um, sorry, teacher, this is Japanese class.” The next half hour was spent walking back and forth across the campus that seemed so large (to a small-college grad) as she tried to find her students. At last, the monitor met her at the doorway of the correct building. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She followed him to the classroom, nervous and off kilter. What would it be like?

A posse of four boys sat in the front row, one boy’s hairdo sprouting like a haystack from off his head, identifying the fun that was bottled up inside of him. The other students filled the room, unsure of this teacher who looked much different than the blonde Americans they had seen in the movies. The teacher handed out papers with English names on them, and, mistaking a student with short hair and baggy clothes for a boy, she made her first faux pas as she offered the girl a boy’s name. The new teacher spoke too fast, and the students’ English level was low, so low that it would prove be the worst level she would ever teach during her years in China. This class would prove to be the most unruly, irresponsible, unmotivated group of students that she would ever teach in Nanchang. In days to come, she would walk on top of the desks to get them to be quiet, offer them academic points for merely bringing a pencil to class, use a cookie sheet as a barrier between a chronic cheater and his classmate’s exam, and discover that a student had climbed in and out of the third floor window during a break. But at this moment, as the new teacher and the new freshmen experienced each other for the first time, none of this even mattered.

Because she was falling in love.

In years to come, when she would remember times with her “crazy class” (as she began to call them), she herself was mystified. What had caused her heart to fall for those students in such a deep way? Why did she sob, heartbroken, when she thought she would not get to teach them the second semester? How did she put up with all the ridiculous, schoolchild behavior that happened in that classroom? Why did she worry about them so much? How did this class irrevocably knot the emotional rope that bound her heart to this place?

She didn't know why.

But somehow, that first class had found a key to a part of her heart that she did not know she had. They were the first ones to unlock the hidden door, surprising the teacher and themselves with what they discovered inside. There was a fountain of love and fierce loyalty that had previously been untouched.  And it belonged to them.

These motley freshmen would not be the only ones to win her heart.

But they were the first.

Books I Can't Seem to Finish

Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner  (fiction)

One of the top five books I have ever read is Stegner’s “Crossing to Safety,” but so far none of his other books have had the same effect on me. While "Crossing to Safety" is acknowledged as a trulygreat book, "Angle of Repose" won the Pulitzer. So far I cannot really get into it. I would love for someone who has read it to inspire me to finish it, or tell me it’s ok to give up. J

The Life of Pi by Yan Martel  (fiction)

This book won so many great reviews that I thought I would love it. But I kept waiting for the story to grab me and it never did, so I gave up. I think I probably did not read far enough. The movie was quite popular here in China, so I feel like I should either read the book first or just give up and watch the movie. I would be glad for anyone’s advice. If you convince me to read the book, that would be fine, too!

The Gate of Heavenly Peace by Jonathan Spence (nonfiction/history)

I know Spence is “the man” when it comes to writing about China but this book intimidates me! I do want to finish it someday, but I am wondering if any of you Spence readers would have any other recommendations for books that I should read before this tome? J

Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry (fiction)

I heard that this book was amazing, and it seemed well thought of at Wheaton, so I bought it. Even the ticket collector on the Chicago suburb Metra had heard of it! Although Berry is a good writer, the book has not given me a reason to continue plowing through its slowness. I am fine with slow books (“Death Comes for the Archbishop” is one example of a very slow, but profound book) if they grab me with profound-ness and great writing. This book has the good writing part, but the profound-ness seems lacking, and the author has not made me connect with the characters in a way that would keep me going (as McDermott does in her slow tales of families). I just read Berry’s "Hannah Coulter", and LOVED it, so magic has come from this writer’s pen! But so far "Jayber Crow" is a very long drawn out self-account of a man wandering back to the town he grew up in. I know more is to come, but I am not compelled to find out. If any of you "Jayber Crow" fans have some thoughts to share, I would be glad to hear them! 

Books I'm Halfway Through

Bridge Across broken Time by Vera Schwarcz (nonfiction)

The description of this book got me, and so I bought it. The book itself is actually less meaty (unless I’m just too dumb to grasp all the meat!) than I was hoping for, but Schwarcz is a great writer. Her premise/theme is quite interesting: as the Jewish daughter of Holocaust survivors, and a scholar on China, she explores the role and nature of memory in both Jewish and Chinese cultures as it relates to processing grief and times of national crises. So far, I feel like I am reading poetry, but not getting as many profound thoughts as I’d expected. We’ll see, though.

My Antonia by Willa Cather  (fiction)

One of my favorite books of all time is Willa Cather’s “Death Comes for the Archbishop” (beautiful and slow, like a great poem, but phenomenal in its theme of questioning how one must deal with/interact with another culture in a way that “the other” can understand), so I have tried some of her other books since reading my favorite.  I did not enjoy “The Professor’s House”, but I decided to read her most famous work, “My Antonia”. It is the retelling of a life of an immigrant girl (who grew up in the newly-settled West) from the perspective of her old neighbor boy.  Cather is a wonderful writer, but so far the story has left me without an idea of its purpose. That is why I am only halfway through. I would love for those of you who have read and enjoyed it to give me some encouragement/reasons to plow through.