Going back

Today I'll be going back (no, not to Nassau Hall, unfortunately, but to China). That is, if my flight isn't cancelled due to snow. Just as I've been asked lots of questions during my time in China, I've also been asked a lot of questions during my time back in the States. How is it? Do you like it there? Are you looking forward to going back? What's the biggest challenge? What do you really like? What was the biggest surprise? These are difficult questions to answer thoroughly and honestly, but here are some thoughts on them now, having been home for the last six weeks.

I really enjoy teaching. I particularly like thinking through how to best convey the content in the curriculum while keeping class fun and engaging. My students are extremely sweet and teaching them is rewarding. I love the look of accomplishment on their faces when they figure something out or their reactions to a song or word that they find funny. But teaching, especially in an under-resourced context, is challenging. Particularly emotionally. I dislike having to threaten my students with various consequences to get them to stop talking, or playing, or sitting under their desks. And I hate feeling powerless to help some of my weakest students, especially those with extreme difficulty paying attention (hence the threats). Also, fifty students is simply way too many for one classroom.

To be honest, I've been somewhat disappointed by the culture. I love history and traditions and had hoped to gain a new perspective from spending so much time immersed in Chinese culture. And there are things I've enjoyed learning, many of which I've already shared here. But I also feel that Chinese culture has been sterilized by its recent history. Wiped clean of all the interesting quirks. Religion has been dismissed as superstition, western-style clothes have replaced traditional garments even in the remote countryside, and boxy mutli-story buildings are replacing traditional ones, just to name a few obvious changes.

One of the biggest differences between American and Chinese cultures is something that seems trivial, but can have huge implications. If you've been reading about some of my experiences last semester you may not be surprised by this. Planning. To say they don't plan at all would be an overstatement, but sometimes it feels that way. At the beginning of the year I tried to find an agenda book or planner that I could use for my lesson planning.You know, something with blank pages to write in but also some form of calendar to help me schedule all the content I needed to teach into the limited weeks of the semester. I couldn't find one. Before I left school to come home in January I asked for the English textbook for next semester. I was asked "Why do you want it?" When we ask our principal questions regarding "when" the answers are almost always vague. (This has meant that I've been worse than I'd hoped about scheduling Skype calls with friends because I'm afraid I'll schedule something and not be able to make it. So if you don't mind the risk, let me know...I'd love to chat! Or send me an email!)

I had no idea how difficult I would find the combination of the linguistic and cultural barriers. After all, I was hoping to become more fluent in Mandarin and gain experiences that would minimize the cultural barrier. And I have! But I had no idea what a challenge the local "dialect" would pose for all aspects of my experience (remember that although dialect is the word generally used, it's more like a related language). I suppose this is itself a perspective on Chinese culture as many Chinese people can not, in fact, understand each other unless they speak standard Mandarin. One of my Chinese cofellows says she only understands about half of what is said when the local dialect is used.

I knew that I might have difficulty speaking to the locals or to my students' parents who might only speak the dialect. What I wasn't prepared for was how severely my inability to speak/understand the local dialect affects my communications with local teachers. They all speak relatively standard Mandarin in their classrooms and when they specifically wish to communicate with me. But the moment they want to relax--at mealtimes, in the evenings, and even at faculty meetings--they use the local dialect. So I spend a lot of time not understanding. Additionally, I don't know what to talk about or how to start conversations. Early last semester I asked some of the other teachers how their weekend or vacation was. I just got blank stares, shrugs, and "I...went home." Apparently, this isn't part of the standard repertoire of small talk. Unfortunately, since their casual conversations occur in the dialect, I don't learn what to ask or how to ask it either. This semester I'm hoping to be better about starting conversations myself and asking questions. And maybe even picking up a little more of the dialect, though that may be overly ambitious.

So am I looking forward to going back? Not exactly. In a lot of ways it's harder when you know exactly what you're up against. But that's different from not wanting to go back. There is much more that I hope to do with my time there, although that won't stop me from wishing I was at home in the evenings or conversing more with all of you. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.