connie's space

The Chinese Spring Festival, the Year of the Rooster, is January 27  and is nearly upon us.  My college’s Fall semester ended January 9, and finally, I find a moment to breath.  All I can say is:  What a crazy, chaotic, topsy-turvy semester!

Let me start with  catch-up news, of which there is plenty. It started with doing without.

The New Campus:  Unprepared and Unfinished

The 11-story faculty apartment building for single teachers looked great from a distance but inside, a lot needed to be taken care of during those first months of the Fall semester.

No consistently working elevators.  No Internet. No hot water. No washing machine.  No gas for cooking.  No remote for the air-conditioning units.  No nearby grocery stores for shopping.

There was an even further dilemma of trash control.  There were no bins or trashcans yet on campus so rubbish from the the student dorms, cafeteria, and offices  was piling high in the most unusual places.

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One of those huge heaps was near our building.

Eventually, a giant iron garbage bin was hauled in to be plopped in the middle of our campus roadway.  Some improvement not to have to step over and through all that had been discarded but  I can tell you, the smell (and the sight of this) was pretty disgusting.

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Yes, it was a challenging move to the new campus (at the outskirts of Luzhou), for Jackie Zubin (a Peace Corp volunteer)  and myself.

Moving Into a Building Not Yet Ready

Our new faculty apartment building for single teachers, with 66 units of apartments (6 on each floor), was fairly empty the month of September because no one wanted to move into a building that wasn’t yet truly ready for inhabiting. It was the last building to hastily go up before the school opened, thus the one that had the most problems.  Many of the teachers held off moving in until December, when things finally settled down.

Wise move.

We two foreign teachers, however, had no choice.

Our  lease was up at the posh apartments we were temporarily housed at and the landlords refused to allow us to stay longer.  Also, the school administrators wanted us on campus for safety reasons, with no commuting from far away distances to reach the school.

Thus off Jackie and I went, a full two days of the 3-man-company movers coming back and forth in their small truck, loading and unloading our furniture, boxes, heavy appliances and other items we had.

Luckily on that day, one elevator was working  to haul everything to the 9^th floor where we  finally settled into.

However, as we soon found out, there were many things that were not yet taken care of.

We had no hot water or gas hook-up for cooking for 3 weeks.  We had no washing machine usage for 6 weeks (The workers were too busy to connect our machines for us).  We had no Internet for 6 1/2 weeks until the school finally  negotiated  Internet terms with China Telecom. The students all  had WiFi connection via the entire campus system, as did all the offices, but the wiring in our building was defective.   We later learned that finding where in the building the faulty line was located would be next to impossible without electricians tearing through the entire network, located in the walls.

The astronomical cost and timely feasibility of correcting the error was pretty much dismissed as not doable.  Thus it was decided that each apartment unit would have to be connected to the city’s communication’s system, China Telecom.  For the foreigners, the school took up the cost of monthly payments but for the other Chinese teachers living in our building, they would have to pay the $200 US a year on their own.

Many decided not to bother and just use the campus WiFi once they stepped within the campus WiFi network.

And while the air-conditioning wall units had been installed, the remote controls were nowhere to be found as they were tucked away in someone’s office drawer.  We sweltered away in Luzhou’s horrible September heat for a good week before they finally were thrust into our hot little hands.

God Bless Elevators!

 We struggled through all the above with great fortitude and understanding . . . .  until it came to the elevators.

After our first week, suddenly, the two elevators were turned off.

I admit, the turning off was partly my fault.

I was actually stuck in one of them on the 1^st floor and had to call out for help.  A worker came and jumped up and down on the top of it  (the entire compartment shaking and rattling as he did so) until the doors slowly jiggled opened.

Needless to say, I didn’t step back into that elevator again.

Not a problem in doing so again because once the word got out that the foreign teacher had been stuck inside, both were immediately turned off until a proper inspection could take place.  This left  me and Jackie to hike up and down 9 flights of stairs  every day for 3 days.

It would have been longer except I decided enough was enough.

I sent out 5 text messages to 5 different leaders.  I profusely apologized for bothering them but I was an old lady (in my 50’s), very tired from teaching so many, and walking up and down 9 flights of stairs every day was very difficult for me.

Could someone please turn on at least one elevator for old foreign teacher, Connie?  It would be greatly appreciated.

Within 1 hour of those texts, in the drizzling rain, 3 administrators arrived to my building:  English Dean Horace He, Mr. Liu (foreign affairs director) and  housing affairs director Mr. Chen with  the elevator key.  All gathered around the right-hand elevator while Mr. Chen ceremoniously placed his key into the lock and turned it on.  After that,  we all took turns going up and down  3 times to make sure it was in proper working order.

Mr. Chen posted a Chinese sign on the outside of the elevator  that said if something went wrong, call him.  (Why on the outside, I’m not sure because if you’re stuck on the inside, how would you know his number?)  I was then cautioned to bring my cell phone with me at all times so I could call for help.

Didn’t exactly restore my faith in the elevator but as long as I didn’t have to hike up 9 flights of stairs several times a day, I wasn’t going to complain.  I learned my lesson the first time!

 Settling In

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November finally had  Jackie and me settling in nicely, although here it is in January  and I still have many boxes yet to dig through. There just was no time in between teaching, swimming, church choir ( a huge commitment), 4 animal rescues (too many to report quickly), decorating and baking for the holidays, Christmas open houses (12 in total) and end-of-term testing plus grading.

Visiting the States

                Unpacking those boxes, by the way, is certainly not on the agenda today.

I’m back in Illinois, visiting my mom for my Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) holidays.  We’ve just returned from a trip to the Windy City where we enjoyed the lyric opera (The Magic Flute), Broadway’s “Hamilton”, a visit to the Museum of Science and Industry, as well as a few shopping ventures plus lunch in the Walnut Room,  located in what is now Macy’s but before Marshall Field’s.

Now it’s back to smalltown living where I am getting my newsletter in order and repacking the suitcase for my return to China on Feb. 7.  It is a very short holiday this year, only 4 weeks, so not much recuperation time from last semester.

This next semester won’t be any easier than last, either.

Our school’s second Peace Corp volunteer, Garett the lawyer, didn’t return after the summer holiday last August.  His surprising exit meant that all of his courses had to be divided between Jackie and me.  It was a bit of a chore but we managed and will be doing the same this coming Spring.

It’s added a lot of extra hours that we haven’t had before, thus the very long silence on my website.  Most likely, after I return to China, the same will happen but for now, just thought I’d update a bit.

As always, wishing you Ping An (Peace) for your upcoming weekend and smooth sailing into the Year of the Rooster.

The move to my new college campus, at the outskirts of Luzhou (loo-joe) city in Sichuan Province, China, brought with it a lot of changes.  New area of the city, new school  buildings, excellent classroom equipment and a  modern 11-story faculty housing  complex with 66 apartment units.

                The latter has me finally settling into my 9^th floor apartment overlooking a river, terraced farmland and a distant railway line that carries cargo during the midnight hours.    It’s not the Yangtze River, which was my balcony view before, but it proves to be just as pleasant.

My current view from my balcony, including the distant cargo train line, raised high above the land.

             The new apartment has a much bigger space than my previous tiny one, thus I’ve been having open house student  visits which have become quite the campus buzz.

Each class, anywhere from 40 to 50 students, has been divided into two groups to visit my home. My college freshmen, sophomores and seniors have been alighting  during the past few weeks to play  table-top games, take countless cell phone photo snapshots and write housewarming wishes to me which are then taped to my balcony’s sliding doors.

Students write housewarming wishes while sitting in my outer living area.

After finishing their wishes, these were posted on my balcony sliding doors (in the background)

So many wishes warmed my heart, and my home.

It was right before one of these open houses that my absentee ballot arrived, sent straight from our Clark County Courthouse by our very own County Clerk and Recorder, Carrie Downey.  

My voting envelope arrived with self-addressed envelope and ballot inside.

                I had tucked away the ballot envelope on a shelf, where I’d later open to vote, when one of my visiting open house students, Ajay (Mize Ke), announced, “Your election is coming very soon.”

Ajay corners me with voting questions.

      “Yes,” I replied.  “On November 8.”

                “So will you go back to America to vote?” Ajay asked me in all seriousness.

                I had to laugh at that one.

How could any American overseas teacher even consider  buying a $2,000 airplane ticket to trek back to America, vote, and then return to teach  classes within a 24-hour period? 

That’s a mighty dedicated voter! 

                Such a ludicrous question is understandable, however.   My Chinese students are quite provincial.  They think all Americans are rich.  Many have never been on an airplane before, much less know that my traveling time from Luzhou all the way to Marshall and back again would take much longer than 24 hours. Plus U.S. voting procedures are unknown to them so the question, while seemingly silly, isn’t all that odd.

                “Well, actually,” I replied, “I can vote via the Internet or even by mail. I’ve chosen mail. Do you want to see how we Americans do that if we live overseas?”

                “Yes!  I want to know!” Ajay piped up excitedly.

                “Just a minute and I’ll show you.”

                I retrieved my unopened ballot envelope and returned to an anxious Ajay.

                Those within earshot of our conversation began  gathering around as Ajay did the honors of carefully opening the outer envelope.

                “Your first U.S. Presidential election, Ajay,” I joked.

Didn’t take long for his classmates to join in on the fun.

                “Yes, Ajay.   Who will you vote for?” his roommate, Nick (Zhu Hongzhi), teased.  “Must be Trump.  He’s a rich man.   He will help you get a lot of money.”

                The other male students nodded in agreement.

                “No, not that man,” Jessica (Yan Yingqiu) retorted.  “Vote for a woman.  The woman president is best.  She will lead strongly, I think.”

                My female students murmured approval, backing up Jessica’s comments for Hilary Clinton.

                As Ajay finished opening the envelope, we pulled out the contents:  ballot, ballot information sheet and the self-addressed, return mailing also enclosed inside.

                I explained each piece of paper, including the fact that on the ballot, there were other people to choose from besides just the President.

                “After the national leaders, here are the candidates for my state and local offices.    In fact, my brother is running for a local office, County Board.”

                “Really?” Ajay asked, searching the ballot.  “Where’s his name?” 

                “He’s for another area, another county, so I can’t vote for him,” I said sadly.  “But I would if I could.”

                “In China, only Communist Party Members can choose government leaders,” Nick commented . “I’m not a Party member.  It’s too much trouble.”

                I’d already known that.

 I used to think everyone was a Communist Party Member in China but that’s not the case.  To join the Party, adults 18 or older must first have a sponsoring member to vouch for them, attend orientation meetings which introduce them to the duties and obligations of a Party member, take Party Membership classes  and  finally pass an exam.  After that, Party Members attend monthly meetings in their areas, pay monthly dues (around $30 US)  and are allowed to vote for  government office candidates vetted from among their ranks.  They can also run for government offices themselves with Party approval or group consensus from their different regions.

There is definitely a voting procedure that takes place in China but for most offices, it is among Party members only, not the grand masses.  And many city, provincial and national government offices are appointments only  by the higher ups in the Party, much like our US President who has the ability to appoint individuals to certain positions without Congressional approval.

Being a Party member can be quite a boost to one’s personal career, especially in the business world and if applying for civil servant positions.  Among educators, it’s somewhat a necessity to join the Party in order  to move  up the ladder in any school system, whether elementary, secondary or  tertiary .  Party membership allows a classroom teacher to ambitiously move upward to become a professor (no PhD required for this title), a principal, a dean or other administrative positions.

 Most of my students, who will be teaching English at the elementary or junior high school level, don’t bother with Party membership.  They are quite satisfied with being a simple school teacher without the pressures of a higher position.  But we do have Party enrollment meetings that take place on our campus every semester.  Those interested join in and finish their initiation process within a year.

“ So who will you vote for?” one of my students asked, looking at the empty ballot boxes not yet filled in.

“That’s a secret,” I hedged .  “Some people don’t like to share their opinion while others like to tell everyone.  Depends on the person.”

“How about  Little Sister?” Jessica asked with a grin, looking down at her feet where my Chihuahua  sat wagging her tail.  “Who will she vote for?”

“Good question,” I replied. “So, Sister, who will you vote for? Trump or Hillary?”

All eyes were on my dog.

Sister gazed upwardly at our expectant faces.   Her nose twitched.  Her mouth opened.  Was this canine actually about to speak?! 

It truly seemed so, until she scooped up a piece of candy from off the floor and scurried away.

We all burst into laughter.

                “Looks like her vote is a secret, too,”Jessica sighed.

                Yes, Jessica, I guess so! 

          Here’s a reminder to all that every vote counts, no matter who you’re voting for or from where.  My vote from China is already in my local ballot box in Marshall, Illinois.   Be sure to add yours for your own city or town elections.  Happy voting, everyone!

Little Beautiful Sister is still deciding. Just remember, every vote counts! Don’t forget to caste your ballot on November 8.  It’s a great honor and privilege to do so.

As a reminder: I arrived in the States on July 1^st and have been enjoying time with my mom in my hometown, Marshall, IL. My return date to China will be August 6.

China rescue Lao-lao and I enjoy a sit in the sunshine on the back deck.  I found him with a broken jaw so he has no ability to hold his tongue in.  He also has lost a majority of his teeth to gum disease. He has lived with my mom since 2009.  What a wonderful life he has now, given lots of pets and care from those of us who love him.

The evening’s cool breeze was sweeping me, my mom and Chihuahua Lao-lao (Old-old, our 2008 immigrant street rescue from China) down Hickory Street toward our house on North Michigan Avenue. Our nightly walk with the dog was almost over when my mom said, “Does it ever feel strange, jumping from China and then suddenly landing in Marshall, every time you make these trips back to America?”

I’ve been doing these jumps for so many years that, in all honesty, there is no strangeness involved. When I’m in China , I feel right at home, even straight off the plane, and the same goes for Marshall where I replant myself as soon as I step out of the Indianapolis Airport before driving the 1 ½ hours into Illinois.

But I must say, the other day did give me a bit of a jolt, one that I don’t often experience.

It started with a trashcan, or rather what was in it.

An Early Morning Swim Raises An Eyebrow

The Marshall Community Pool was first built by the Lion’s Club in 1956.  It is now owned by the city.  A new pool is scheduled to be built for next year at a cost of 3 million dollars.  Fundraising by local citizens and city funding will cover the cost.

Monday morning had me at our local outdoor pool, ready for my 6 – 8 a.m. lap swim. The high school lifeguards, although bleary-eyed and wishing for a sleep-in, show up right on time to unlock the gate for us early birds to straggle in. It’s been Brandon’s turn this week and he was there a tad early on Monday, which gave me an opportunity to stroll in leisurely rather than swiftly hit the water for my daily work-out.

The crack-of-dawn opening allows our guards, usually two of them, to clean the pool while we adept adult swimmers cruise the waters. Cleaning duties include washing down the pool deck, sanitizing the bathrooms, picking up the parking lot and emptying trash cans into the dumpster out front.

When I drifted over to the patio to deposit my towel and shoes on the picnic bench, I noticed the trash cans were completely full, ready to be emptied.

The night before, a pool party had taken place from 7 – 10 p.m., which is not unusual for the weekends. Many groups from Marshall and surrounding towns rent our public pool for their summer gatherings at a reasonable $115. We are the only city within a 40-mile radius that has continued to keep its outdoor pool open for the community. It is one of the many services Marshall offers to the public and we here are extremely grateful to have it, as are those who patron our pool facility.

Overflowing trash cans after a pool party are nothing to be surprised about but what stopped me in my tracks was what was in one particular the trash can.

Perched on top of an underlying pile of plastic cups, bags and paper plates was a big box of Walmart cookies, still in the container and unopened. And next to that was an untouched sack of deep red, ripe cherries along with another bag of plump, white grapes. Further down was a squashed bag of hotdog buns, damaged from being tossed into the canister without a second thought, even though I’m pretty certain they were quite fresh before they went in.

I was truly taken back.

My mom and I had seen those same gorgeous red, ripe cherries from Washington State in our local Walmart in the same labeled zip-locked bag. They were $7.00 a pound. We had debated spending the money on them, but getting rather cheap, turned instead to the Ranier cherries which were only $4.20 a pound.

We had also kept temptation at bay concerning the many variety of cookies displayed on the bakery shelves, mostly because we prefer homemade but also because we didn’t really need all those extra unworthy calories, did we?

Yet here they were, all those store offerings from yesterday, haphazardly discarded and set before me.

No ants were marching about and those cherries (definitely over a pound) were begging to be saved. The same went for the grapes, likewise dumped without a second thought. Also needing rescuing were the store-bought cookies, Snickerdoodles and peanut butter, cuddled next to the fruit.

I didn’t hesitate, even in my shock, to shamelessly pull the lot out of the trash.

The cookie container I deposited into the basket room for the lifeguards to munch on during their on-duty hours that day. The fruit I quickly placed next to my towel on the picnic table to take home for my own consumption. As for the squashed buns, I grabbed those as well to toss out to the birds in the city park next to the pool.

My determination was to let nothing of good, edible use go to waste, even if it meant pulling things out of the trash. I didn’t really care what anyone thought of me. Such wastefulness, money and foodwise, was just not something I could ignore.

In China, people would have packaged everything up after a party and made sure it went home with someone. Nothing would have been left behind, I’m almost certain, especially the fruit.

Yes, I know Americans can be quite wasteful, even myself at times, but at that moment, the actions of my fellow countrymen just struck me as being so vastly different from my Asian home across the ocean that I was rather gobsmacked, as the Brits would say. How I wish I could have boasted how Americans do things better but in that moment, it was the Chinese way of waste awareness that I wish had gripped those partiers the night before.

Enjoying The Fruits of My Labor, Yet With A Tinge of Sadness

The discarded cherries, not going to waste in my house!

I am currently enjoying the fruits of my trash-grab. My mom and I have been gobbling down those gorgeous red cherries and juicy grapes for the past couple of days. We are thankful for the free goodies, courtesy of the pool revelers from Sunday night, and yet, with every cherry and grape I eat, there is a tinge of sadness because I found out who had hosted the party.

It wasn’t a family for a reunion, our local school district for the students, a softball team’s celebration for a season’s ending, or a local business for employees and their families.

It was, of all people, an area church group.

From Illinois, here’s wishing you Ping An (Peace) for your weekend and a little reflection time on the above story. I’ll let you formulate your own personal thoughts on the matter.

Despite good intentions, looks like my days got away from me since the last posting.

My vacation started 2 1/2 weeks ago but has included quite a few surprises.  The biggest one concerns the new teachers coming to teach with the Amity Foundation.

“Connie, can you help us?”

A few weeks ago, I received an email from the Director of Amity’s Education Division, “Helen” Zhao, in the Nanjing Amity Foundation office. There will be two new Amity Foundation teachers in the 2-year  program joining the organization and they will need teacher training. One is a gentleman from America, sent by the United Methodists, and the other is a woman from Australia.

“Connie, we would like to fly you to Nanjing to help conduct the orientation for 2 weeks with the two new teachers. They will have language study in the morning and then you will have them in the afternoon, instructing them about Chinese learners of English and leading them to teach the guinea-pig Chinese students we will try to put together for them. This will be from August 13 – 24.”

Well, that sounded great except that I will be stuck in Luzhou, renewing my residence permit for another year. My visa expires on August 15^th .  On the 10^th, my school representative and I will be handing in all my official paperwork, including my passport, to the government’s visa office here in Luzhou. After 2 weeks, I will get my passport back with my 1-year residence permit stamped inside.

No passport, no traveling.

After hearing this, Helen had another suggestion: Amity will bring the two teachers to me, along with a staff person, “Lisa” Meng, to see to their needs.

Perfect solution!

Tentatively, I will lead the teacher training workshops in the morning and Lisa will teach the two basic Chinese in the afternoon. I suggested the three stay in the hotel next to my apartment building for convenience. Lisa has already booked the rooms so it looks like their  orientation in Luzhou is a definite go.

Our Guinea Pig Students: The Ladies Who Lunch

The down side in this change of venue from Nanjing to Luzhou was that there would be no guinea pig students for our new teachers to practice on unless I could somehow drum them up. Helen didn’t ask because she knew that was a huge task to place on me at the last minute but I have managed to pull together one somewhat formal setting with a very unique group of women.

I call them The Ladies Who Lunch, because that is exactly the sort of ladies they are. Well-educated, classy dressers, world travelers, and wealthy beyond belief. Some are high-up government workers while others have rich husbands who see to the family’s needs in quite a majestic manner.

In other words, they truly know how to enjoy a comfortable, happy life.

How We All Met

I met these women during one of their English lessons a few weeks ago with Teacher Snow (Teacher Xue). If you remember a previous post, Snow is the one who helped me find SP (Stairwell Puppy), the abandoned campus dog, a home in the countryside with farmers Che and Chen.

Snow was invited to lead The Ladies Who Lunch in a 10-lesson English course, held in a posh women’s club owned and run by a business woman and her partner. The club offers classes in painting, yoga, Chinese traditional dancing and music. Whatever interests and passions the patrons have, owner “Helen” Yu and her associate use their innovative techniques to organize the activities which might prove profitable for them and fun for the ladies. The activity/course fees they charge pay for the rent of the club space, the drinks and snacks provided, the teachers they hire and also bring them the income needed for their own living expenses.

Their clientele, quite the globe trotters, suggested that an English course which concentrated on useful overseas English travel vocabulary would be very helpful to them. Snow, a good friend of Helen, was then enlisted as the teacher.

A Brilliant Idea Occurs

To make the lessons more exciting, Snow rounded up her foreign friends (of which she has many) to make sure the women had plenty of incentive to say something in English.   Even though it was just to sputter a few sentences of introduction, having English speakers of many different nationalities in their midst spurred them on to put shyness aside and shine as second language learners.

For the last lesson, Snow invited me, her Australian husband Geoff and Sanjay from Nepal to attend. It was then that I got the idea of gathering together The Ladies Who Lunch  for a one-time, 2-hour lesson led by our new Amity teachers. This would be an excellent opportunity for the two to try out their newfound teaching skills with a group of willing, intelligent and fun-loving Chinese.

After conferring with Helen Yu about this possibility, she whole-heartedly agreed to allow us to use her club for this special event at no cost. She will get The Ladies Who Lunch together (including a few Chinese gentleman) and then it’s up to us to entertain them with a free English lesson.

It’s A Go!

The date has been set for August 18, 7 – 9 p.m.

I’m confident our new Amity teachers will not only impress the women with their well-planned lesson but also enjoy meeting and getting to know this diverse, fascinating group.

More stories of the past few weeks yet to come but for now, here’s wishing you Ping An (Peace) for your weekend. And for my American readers, soon to celebrate July Fourth, Happy Independence Day!

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Today is the second day of vacation for me, although the students are still taking their final exams for their Chinese courses at this time.  Dragon Boat Festival is tomorrow and the entire nation has been given Thursday and Friday off, meaning that our college officially ends the Spring semester at the end of the day.  Many will be traveling home to spend their 4-day break with family and friends but will return on Monday for the 1-month summer session, which is a required part of the school year.

         I finally have time to myself to catch up on sleep and  emails, do some blog writing, swim every day at the local pool, and leisurely walk and give attention to the abandoned dogs at the Xin Wang Veterinarian Clinic (There are 4 now: Stinky the Yorkie, Crippled Mutt Puppy, Lame Black Lab, and Mother Hubbard, the old-lady sheep dog.)

My Turn to Follow Up

         My mom’s previous essay will appear in this week’s The Advocate and the below will follow from me.  This was published years ago in The Christian Science Monitor, Home Forum page, on Dec. 6, 1996.  Thought you’d enjoy  a nice read, after which I will return to more stories from China.  I just regret I can’t find a photo of Taizo.  It’s in one of the boxes I haven’t bothered unpacking due to my upcoming move.  When I find it, I’ll be sure to share.

My Grandfather’s Legacy of Forgiveness

Rev. Marvin Maris, My Grandfather

           Among the elderly in my home town, Pearl Harbor Day (Dec. 7) is still recalled with anger, the Japanese still disliked. So when I accepted an English teaching position in Kyoto, Japan, more than mere grumblings arose from many of my older friends. Before I left America, veterans cornered me and recounted stories of bloody South Pacific battles. I would listen politely until they inevitably shook their heads and sighed, “You’re too young to understand.”

              But my grandfather, a chaplain in the United States Army in World War II, did understand. He was in the Philippines and the jungles of New Guinea from 1943 to 1945. I read his diaries: The entries were poignant and unsettling. The war I’d seen in the movies was not the one I found in his hand-written, detailed notes and sketches.

When I was well into my sixth month of teaching in Kyoto, I received a letter from my mother with the name and address of a retired Japanese minister and theology professor, Taizo Fujishiro.

“He was your grandfather’s friend,” she informed me.

They had met in 1950 at the University of Chicago’s Theological Seminary. After Taizo returned to Japan, the two wrote for many years.

“The address is in Kyoto,” my mom continued.  “Why not look him up?”

It took me weeks to gather enough courage to track him down.

Would he remember my grandfather?  Would he remember his English, at such an advanced age?  Would he care to even talk to me?

I stood in the Kyoto YWCA office, the staff telephone in my hand.  I dialed the number, listened apprehensively as the phone rang and waited.  The receiver’s “click” was heard, followed by a soft-spoken male voice.

“Hai (Yes)?”

“Hello,” I said slowly and clearly. “My name is Connie Wieck. I am the granddaughter of Marvin Maris.”

That was all the introduction I needed. Taizo’s exclamation of surprise told me that he certainly did remember.

We arranged to meet for lunch the following day at a nearby hotel restaurant. I wore a skirt rather than my usual worn-out jeans, and arrived 20 minutes early. I sat nervously with my hands clasped tightly on my lap and my eyes glued to the lobby’s front door.

A distinguished, tidy gentleman with thick, graying hair and bushy eyebrows entered.  He walked with a surprisingly quick, steady gait. He smiled warmly and approached.

“You must be Connie,” he said in perfect English as I rose to meet him.

“You surprised me,” I said, shaking his hand. “I thought you’d look much … older.”

He laughed with such amusement that my anxiety slipped away.

We ate lunch and talked for nearly three hours. My grandfather had been Taizo’s first American friend. He had typed his class notes for Taizo, who often struggled to follow the professor’s rapid lectures. Taizo had spent Christmas with Grandfather’s family; my grandfather had taught him how to drive. But what truly surprised me was that this gentle man had been a lieutenant in the Japanese Imperial Guard. Growing up in a town whose veterans were still bitter toward the Japanese, I had come to believe that forgiveness was beyond any first-hand witnesses to that history.

The lasting friendship between my grandfather and Taizo proved otherwise.

After lunch, Taizo and I resumed our conversation in Kyoto’s ancient imperial palace grounds where cloistered emperors once walked. We leisurely strolled over wide, gravel pathways.  We spoke about our families, my work at the YWCA, and Taizo’s church community that he ministered to.

The late-afternoon sun signaled the end of our time together. We exchanged many warm thank-yous and promises of future meetings, which we kept. We also continued our contact by correspondence when I finally returned to America.  Even today, long after Taizo’s passing, I consider our friendship a privileged legacy from my grandfather, one which I still hold very dear.

And when I am surrounded by others’ vivid memories of World War II, I share my memories, too. They begin with the walk Taizo and I took that day, where I felt the presence of my grandfather join us as we walked side by side, with peaceful steps.

Priscilla Wieck’s Column:   “Walk With Me”

My mom, Priscilla Wieck, has been writing a weekly column for our local Marshall newspaper for 3 months now.  She has entitled it “Walk with Me” because of her daily walks around our small town with Lao-lao (Old-old), our Chinese Sichuan earthquake rescue Chihuahua.  Her thoughts, observations or activities of the day or week are carefully considered on these treks about Marshall.  She then chooses some of those to share with others in a column.

Her essays include all sorts of musings but I will share this one with you, to be published next week.  It was brought about by Obama’s recent visit to Hiroshima and his eloquently worded address in the Peace Park at that time.  She began thinking upon the world we live in and this is a result of her ponderings.  Hope you enjoy!  It gives us all something to truly think deeply upon.

And from China, Ping An (Peace) to all who read this.

Walk With Me  by Priscilla Wieck (Marshall Advocate Newspaper, Marshall, IL)

A couple of weeks ago, this newspaper featured an article about a Muslim family from Martinsville that is giving presentations about the Muslim faith to help people understand that not all Muslims are terrorists. I hope you took the time to read that article. The following week, this paper published a perceptive and thoughtful letter to the editor written by Bob Nelson. Reading both of these, I was reminded of a word portrait of a global village that I had seen published several years ago.

It is good to be reminded once in a while that we, as Americans, are not alone on this planet.  There are other people from other countries with other religions and other ways of life that live here, too. So the following is a version of the Global Village. It is the most updated one I could find. Statistics are always changing and do not take into account the current refugee crisis.

A Global Village–If the World Were 100 People

50 would be female, 50 would be male

26 would be children, 74 would be adults of whom 8 would be 65 or older

60 would be Asians, 15 Africans, 14 from the Americas, 11 Europeans

33 would be Christians, 22 Muslims, 14 Hindus, 7 Buddhists, 12 of other religions, 12 with no     religious affiliation

12 would speak Chinese, 5 Spanish, 5 English, 3 Arabic, 3 Hindi, 3 Bengali, 3 Portuguese, 2 Russian, 2 Japanese and 62 would speak various other languages.

83 could read and write,17 could not

7 would have a college degree, 2 would own or share a computer

77 people would have a place to shelter them from the wind and rain, but 23 would not

1 would be dying of starvation, 15 would be undernourished, 21 would be overweight

87 would have access to safe drinking water, 13 would not

The main thought that comes to me when I think about this global village is that we share this planet with millions of others and we need to start start learning to get along with and understand each other if the human race is to survive.

After the second World War, we all had visions of a peaceful world. We sang songs like “Let There Be Peace on Earth” and “One World Built on A Firm Foundation.” We truly thought the world was so tired of war that we would all live together peacefully forever. We believed that if the countries of the world would just pattern themselves after our country, all would be well. However, we forgot to take into consideration that not all the world’s countries wanted to or even can be like us.

Imagine this for a future: countries would sign peace treaties and keep them, the one percent of those who own most of the wealth would help out those who have nothing, dictators would stop killing those who disagree with their policies, war lords would stop fighting each other so that displaced people could return to their homes, wars fought in the name of religion would cease. Power driven governments would become humble. We would practice common decency to each other. What a world that would be!

Realistically we all know that will probably never happen. So what can we do to help make our corner of this world a better place? Maybe we could show a little more tolerance and understanding for others who are different from us. We could realize that it is not just about us.  It is about all of us together.

“In order to have faith in my own path, I do not need to prove that another’s path is wrong.” –Paulo Coelho

Our current campus, soon to be deserted in July.

A former post was devoted our new school campus, with pictures dating from May 2^nd when Peace Corp volunteer, Jackie Zubin, and I visited the site to check things out.

We trekked by replanted sticks of trees, clamored over dirt piles, hopped in and out of muddy ditches, maneuvered around cranes and bulldozers, explored dusty, unfinished buildings and inspected scaffolding rising high into the interior of the impressive circular library.

We did this all the while discussing not only the magnificence of it all, but also how in the world the school leaders could possibly have us move onto the campus right after finals on June 10.

As of yesterday, the plan among the school leaders is that “probably, most likely, almost certain but not quite sure” we won’t all be moving until after the summer session ends on July 8.  I have no summer session courses to teach and will be long gone by then (visiting the States from July 1 – Aug. 6) but the rest of the campus faculty will be extremely busy in the stifling summer heat of Luzhou boxing up everything (computers, files, textbooks) to stack into the moving trucks.

Students will be required to pack up all their things at that time, then load onto school trucks which will haul all their belongings to the new school dormitories where they can get settled in.

After cleaning their new rooms on their own, putting things into their individual wardrobes (not furnished at the old school) and storing their things, they are free to go home to enjoy their summer vacation.  They’ll return around Sept. 3 to start up the new school year on Monday, Sept. 5.

Departments will be moving at that time, one by one, into their new departmental office buildings. Jackie and I will pack up the English language books many have sent over the years and also movie DVDs for the hoped-for English Language Center. We’ll be placing these into carefully labeled boxes before we take off for our summer holidays. We could leave it for the staff to do but if we do it ourselves, we’ll ensure that the books don’t get lost somewhere among all the English department’s belongings. Or, worse yet, get left behind and tossed.

Eventually, the single teachers’ housing building will be completed. It’s hoped that we can move into our new homes in August, after I return from America.

Plans will most likely change, of course, according to how fast things are moving along on the new campus, but this seemingly well-thought-out schedule is solidly circling around the campus at the moment.

It might well come about.

Last Week of Finals

As of this next week, I will be finishing up my finals for oral English (freshmen) and teaching methodology (sophomores). After that, we have our closure classes where we meet for the last time in the semester. We sing songs, I give the monitors (class leaders) a special surprise gift for their help during the term, the students receive their grades for my course and all get to choose from the English language reward pencils which so many of you have sent this past year.

I have 250 students and thanks to your generous mailings, there will be a huge selection in the pencil tray for them to dig through and pull out. I’ve already piled the pencil box high with a variety of colors, designs and English phrases (“Well-done!” “Fantastic!” “Number One Student,” “Excellent!”) for them to pick from.

What a great way to end the school year! Thank you so much, for those who have helped. It makes their studies worth while and puts everyone in a good mood, especially if their grades weren’t what they expected them to be.

Until next report, here’s wishing you Ping An (Peace) for your upcoming Memorial Day.

All last week, text messages were flying between the English language departmental staff (including myself and Peace Corp volunteer Jackie) and our English major students.

“Are we on for Friday or not?”

The 10^th Annual English Language Play Contest was hovering over our heads with uncertainty.

While first and second year students in all 9 participating classes continued to diligently practice their skits, everyone was debating if the rains would hold off for Friday evening’s performances.  Since the play contest takes place outside, with a hired stage and lighting crew that sets everything up, we are always at the mercy of Mother Nature.

At this time of year, our Yangtze River weather is either encompassing us in unbearable, smothering humidity accompanied by a wicked  hazy sun or dousing us with downpours, drizzles, mists and sprinkles. It wasn’t until the last minute, May 13th Friday afternoon at 3 p.m., after a constant all-night and morning rain, that the skies cleared and a decision was made: The show will go on.

And on it did!

A Dazzling and Sparkling Display of Talent

This year, as always, an array of talent spread across the stage at our small college. Students who rarely say a word in our English language classes suddenly appeared before us as confident, energetic performers with acting skills that could put the professionals to shame.

Each class chose from English language scripts found on the Internet. These are usually abridged versions of various movies (we had the Titanic last year), Chinese or world-renowned folk tales, famous short stories, plays or books, or even animated Disney films.

Performances had a time limit of 10 minutes each, meaning that many of the scripts had to be downsized even more by the students themselves. This made for some interesting storylines, some of which were changed to fit the time limit and also to make sense. In other words, we had a few surprise endings, such as with Snow White, whose wicked queen (after poisoning the princess) had a change of heart and nursed her back to health. No prince was included to kiss away Snow’s deadly slumber, much to the disappointment of the nearly all-female audience. (Our English Department has about 15 boys out of  300 total English majors at our school.  This seems to follow the world trend for humanity teachers, who tend to fall into the female category.)

This year, the line-up was: The Cop and the Anthem (O. Henry), The Little Mermaid ( Hans Christian Anderson), The Necklace (Guy de Maupassant), Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austin), Cinderella (The Brothers Grimm), The Sound of Music (Rogers and Hammerstein), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Shakespeare), The Gift of the Magi (O. Henry) and Snow White (The Brothers Grimm).

We also had an opening hip-hop dance number by our more agile students along with an intermission drawing for prizes: hotpot dinner and a free 3-hour karaoke hall rental at a local KTV business.

Before the final three acts, we also enjoyed a rousing performance of Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up” by an invited student male guest.

For the latter, I couldn’t help but begin an audience wave of cell phone flashlights to encourage our singer to really belt it out and give it his all. Once my light went up, swaying from side to side, Jackie and our Chinese teachers, who were beside me at the judging table, followed suit. The audience members quickly caught on.  Soon we had quite a “You go, Brother!” sea of energizing support waving him into campus stardom.

And it certainly paid off. Our efforts spurred him on to a bigger, brighter and more heartfelt interpretation of the song, with a idol-worthy fanatic cheers following when he took his bow.

We had a couple minutes of worry when sprinkles started toward the end but those held off just in time for the entire program to wrap up. This included comments given by one foreign judge (myself) and the Vice-dean of the English Department, “Lisa” Zhang, along with the anticipated moment: announcing the winners.

One first prize, 2 second prizes and the rest thirds were given as celebratory screams filled the air.   The last act of the evening was to witness proud class representatives bound onstage to accept the awards and cram their classmates together for pictures. (Note: Giving all participants an award is how the Chinese encourage contestants. Everyone gets a prize to boost spirits and show appreciation by the judges for a job well done.)

So . . . Who Won?

Interested in knowing who walked away with first place?

This year was The Sound of Music, Freshmen Class 1, chosen because of excellent diction and a very creative dance number by Maria and the Von Trapp kids. Their playful and clever choreography was accompanied to Julie Andrews singing “Do, Re, Mi.”

How could you possibly go wrong with Julie in your sound track?

For all participants, I must say broken legs abounded. Well done, everyone!

While the following pictures don’t do it justice, especially with my broken camera that refuses to focus properly, hope the below slideshow gives you a little inkling of our exciting Friday evening.

Until next time, here’s wishing you Ping An (Peace) for your weekend.

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