connie's space

                 My in-box has been filling with good wishes all day.

              “Connie, Happy teachers’ Day!  Connie, my classmates want to know where you live because we want to give you a gift. Could you please tell me?   Sail.”

            “My dear teacher, it has been long since we last met. Happy Teachers’ Day!   My son is very big now and learn some English words.  I want him to go to kindergarten but the school disagree with me.  They say he is too little.  I want a private school but my wife says the condition is not good.  What to do?  I no longer teach English from this year.  I study law to pass the law test.  Where are you now?   Your student, Forest.”

            “Today is Teacher’s Day.  Happy Teachers’ Day!  I want to call you.  What’s your number?   Jalin.”

            In some countries, Teachers’ Days are intended to be special days for the appreciation of teachers.  Some of them are holidays while others are celebrated during working days.  Every country seems to have its own special day to commemorate teachers.  In a number of Islamic countries, Teachers’ Day is celebrated on February 28.  Other countries choose their own day, such as Chile on Oct. 16,  El Salvador on  June 22,  Thailand on January 16 or the United States on May 6.  China and Hong Kong have chosen their teacher appreciation day as September 10, which is today.

            It really depends on the school and the country what kind of appreciation is bestowed on teachers.  In Taiwan, our Teachers’ Day at Wesley Girls’ High School was especially delightful as we were all given a bonus ($100 each), beautiful hand-made cards from the students and the Parents’ Union presented us with food gifts, such as a cheesecake or a tin of butter cookies.  One year, everyone was raving about the packages of dried beef we were given, donated by one of the parents who ran a meat packing plant.

            Taiwan certainly went out of its way to recognize teachers.

            But in China, our appreciation moments are on a smaller scale and more heartfelt.  Thank yous are plentiful, either by email or by telephone.  Bouquets of flowers are presented by a class to a favorite teacher.  Small gifts, such as a mug or stuffed animal, are likewise common for students to give as a group. 

            As for the school making a fuss, that really depends on the leaders.  At Luzhou Vocational and Technical College, every year a department is put in charge of arranging something for Teachers’ Day.  One year, we were all given the afternoon off from teaching.  (Now that was a great appreciation gesture!)  Another year, we had a tug-of-war contest between departments with the winner taking a prize of $100 for 1^st place, $50 for second and $25 for third.  

            This year, our afternoon classes were cut short for us to attend a meeting.  I was quite excited to find out what our appreciation meeting would entail.  The Human Resources Department had put it together for us.  After dismissing my class 1-hour early from our 2-hour lesson, I headed over to the lecture hall to find out what was in store for us.

            As it so happened, the meeting was just like any other meeting.  Our 5 leaders sat in front of us on the stage and read directly from written speeches, their eyes glued to their papers with no interesting things to say at all.  It was deadly boring and tedious to sit through.  As is very common here, everyone was talking and not listening.  Some were texting friends on their cell phones.  Even President He was taking messages during Party Secretary Zhou’s talk. 

            After an hour of speech-giving, we finally came to the more interesting part of the program: handing out awards.  Excellent teacher awards, excellent department awards, excellent administration awards and a number of others were bestowed on the winners.  While celebratory marches played over the speaker, happy recipients raced down to accept their plaques or certificates and pose for a photo.  We had four in our English Department who received the excellent teachers’ award.   That says quite a lot about our department’s teachers, how hard they work and that the school recognizes their efforts.

            As for me, along with emails,  I was given a lovely bouquet of flowers from my sophomore English Class 3 students.  Unfortunately, those beautiful, fragrant flowers disappeared when I put them in the office for safe keeping while I attended the school meeting.  I’m not quite sure what happened to them but at least I have a photo to remember them by. I made sure to bring my camera to class today, just in case a photo opportunity arose.  And here one did!

            Before closing, I just want to say for all you teachers out there, here’s wishing you a Happy Teachers’ Day from China, and Ping An (peace) as well.

            I didn’t have much time today after church to visit with the congregation or pastor so I’ll save my returning church story for another day.

            Instead, it was a quick dash by taxi to Tian Xi Ren He, a well-known restaurant here in Luzhou.

             Our former English Departmental dean, Cathy (Li Xiaolian), along with her husband Peter (Peng Tao) were throwing a big to-do for their son, Jack (Peng Mu Yan).  The occasion?  Jack’s matriculation into one of Beijing’s top universities for computer science and engineering.

            In China,  parents dream of sending their children to prestigious universities throughout the country. It guarantees their child a higher education with a good job after graduation.  The opportunities attending these schools are numerous, including better prospects for overseas’ study and meeting the right people for furthering job security. 

            Once in school, the students’ life completely changes.  The tension, fear, anxiety and sleepless, tedious high school years preparing for this national entrance exam are past.   Now they can relax, enjoy the independent life of a young adult student and concentrate only on the subject they’re interested in.

            The score which is received on university entrance exams determines where the high school  senior can apply.  If the score is too low, his top choice universities most likely will not accept him. 

            Cathy and Peter had very high hopes for Jack, who ranked first and second in his class for a number of subjects, including math, science and English.  Because he was attending Number 6 Senior High School, which is the best in the city, they expected his entrance exam scores to be higher than most.  For 3 years, he’d studied 7 days a week in school, like all of his classmates, leaving for school at 7:30 a.m. and returning at 10:30 p.m.  When studying for the entrance exams, there is no time to rest and no vacation, even during the summer holidays.  They are too busy pouring over their textbooks.

              Memorization is a must and a skill all Chinese students learn to master as best they can.  The university entrance tests they take depend on it.  If they don’t do well, they end up in lower ranked universities.  If they do extremely poorly, they may wind up at small vocational schools such as ours.   Rather depressing when your hopes were set on something better.  It’s especially disappointing when your parents were planning on you achieving high marks and you didn’t.

            When Jack’s test scores were posted on the Internet in June, Cathy and Peter eagerly went to see what they were.  They were crushed.  Jack hadn’t done as well as they thought.  Jack, too, felt miserable.  All that hard work and his scores were only adequate, setting him above some but not high enough to enter the university he had wanted in Beijing. 

            Yet a miracle occured, which gave us the grand and glorious dinner party today in his honor.      He was placed on the waiting list and, out of thousands of others, was chosen to be enrolled in his number one choice school. 

            When a child is accepted into a prestigious university, it is the custom for parents to throw a dinner party to celebrate their happiness with others.  Because Cathy and Peter have so many to thank, I was actually invited to their 3^rd big dinner.  The first had been for Peter’s circle. As director of a computer company, Peter had a number of colleagues and staff to share his happiness with.  The second dinner had been for friends of  Cathy, Peter and Jack, those not in the workplace.  And this last dinner, most likely the biggest of all, was for Cathy’s colleagues and school leaders:  Those from her former employment as the English dean at Luzhou Vocational and Technical College, and those from her current teaching position at Luzhou Police College. 

            I wasn’t sure of the custom when attending a celebration dinner so I had to ask.  Everyone invited should prepare a red envelope (used for celebration purposes) with money inside to give to the parents.  This money is congratulations for their child’s success and is used to pay for the dinner.

            It was suggested a 100 yuan note ($14.50) would be enough although if you are good friends of the family, you should give more.  Cathy and I are much like sisters, being about the same age and also quite close, so I gave 200 yuan in my red envelope.

            Upon my arrival at the restaurant, many people were milling about outside as Cathy excitedly greeted them in front of the building.  There were many words of congratulations extended, lots of handshakes and smiles, as red envelopes of 100 yuan notes were pressed into her hands.  These she quickly crumpled into her purse so as not to make a big deal out of the gifts.

            Cathy urged us all to go in while she continued to greet more guests coming to the banquet luncheon. 

            On the stairwell, there was our tall, handsome Jack busy talking to his friends on his cell phone while at the same time, welcoming his guests.  And inside, Peter with his parents (who live with the family) were  ushering people to tables or just thanking us for coming.

            It was a bit of a madhouse with people calling out to friends or colleagues to sit at their table.  There were a lot of shouts, handshakes, and pats on the back between workmates.  Young people were present as well, children of the invited guests, so there was a big fuss made over how so-and-so had grown so much or what a cute little girl this one had become.    Then we had our school leaders, Mr. Zhou (Party Secretary) and Mr. Ruan (retired Vice-President), along with several other important VIPs stationed at a table.  Being the returning foreign teacher, I hadn’t seen them in over a year so I descended upon them (along with quite a few others) to extend my good wishes and just say hello.

            The restaurant hall slowly began to fill. 

            We held the biggest room in the restaurant, with 14 tables of 10 people each.  We made quite a showing and quite a ruckus.  Lots of banter going on and playful teasing by the entire group.  We were all so happy to celebrate in Jack’s success and his parents’ joy.  For me, it was especially meaningful as I remember my first invitation to Cathy’s home 7 years ago, when Jack was celebrating his 11^th birthday.  Now look at him!  All grown up, off to college clear across the country and ready to start his new life away from home for the first time.

            While we waited, our 14 tables were already filling with appetizers and dishes from the kitchen:  blanched peanuts, cold sliced chicken, potato starch noodles in sauce, fish, rabbit, pork with green peppers, Chinese cabbage. . .   But our hosts hadn’t yet taken the stage so we could only sit, waiting for them while our stomachs growled in anticipation of the good food that lay before us.

            At 12:00, Cathy, Peter and Jack came before us with microphone in hand to do the official greetings and welcome.  Cathy spoke first, then her husband and finally, Jack with his hand-written speech.  All three expressed their thanks to us for sharing in their happiness.  They raised their glasses to toast Jack’s success and our being there.  Ours raised in return, and finally, it was time to dig in.

            For the guests, the meal was delightful.  So many fascinating, special food selections arrived one after another. We spent a great deal of time turning the lazy susan, sampling every dish that went by.   The table was stacked with them as the servers whipped them out again and again.  During the entire 1 ½ hours we were there, we must have had over 20 different menu items.

            While we were filling our stomachs, however, our hosts had little time to enjoy their meal.           Banquets such as these demand the hosts rotate from table to table, toasting everyone and thanking them for coming.  There are also individual toasts done by the parents to special guests.  In a Chinese banquet, there’s a lot of standing up and down as the toasters descend upon you to wish you well while lifting high their glasses.  Quickly stuffing in the meal in between these toasts is something Chinese are very adept at doing.  I, on the other hand, am a slow eater.  Fortunately for me, this particular celebration dinner didn’t require an outrageous number of toasts.  Cathy, Peter and Jack were too busy with other tables to toast us more than once.

            When it comes to toasting, guests are given a choice of drinks. In order to save money, those who are throwing these banquets bring in their own drinks for guests.   Rarely do customers buy from the restaurant as it’s too expensive.  Carrying in your own beverages is completely acceptable by Chinese restaurants, unlike America, and no extra fees are charged.

            When it comes to what’s selected, fruit juices, colas or coconut juice are the most common among the children and us women.  We ladies are not pushed into the hard liquor which the men are often forced to drink along with their buddies. 

            Among the men, it’s considered rude to refuse guzzling our famous Luzhou baijiu  (a strong whiskey), especially when you’re sitting with the leaders who are expected to drink it, whether they want to or not.  When you’re a guy, if the leaders drink, you drink.   If your friends drink, you drink.         Only official school drivers, always invited to the meal as well, are exempt.  Since they chauffer around the administrators to and from such dinners, it’s their job to remain sober enough to get everyone home safely.

            A cross between the hard stuff and fruit juice is an extremely weak red wine.  This has a 2% -3% alcohol level and tastes like sweetened water with a tinge of grape flavor.  This kind of wine was invented just for the Chinese banquet.   It’s a common substitute for other drinks when someone doesn’t want to get drunk but wants to do his or her duty by drinking spirits of some sort.

            During our toasting from our hosts, I noticed all three (Cathy, Peter and Jack) were using the wine.  Jack’s job was to carry the bottle and refill their glasses as they walked to every table.  At the leaders’ table, however, I did notice that Cathy and Peter both changed to the Luzhou whiskey as a show of respect to the higher ups.  And, yes, Cathy was a bit tipsy toward the end of our meal.

            The banquet luncheon ended with the final dessert of sliced fruit being placed at every table.  After that, people began dispersing on their own.

             But this actually wasn’t the end.  Cathy enthusiastically grabbed up a number of people to accompany her to a nearby mahjong parlor.  This is a common Sichuan custom, to play mahjong (a tile game) for the rest of the afternoon after gathering all your friends together. 

            Not only that, but a second dinner banquet was arranged that evening at 6:30 p.m.  We were all invited back after our afternoon outings (mahjong, shopping, rest at home) to once again participate in the family’s happiness.

            While Cathy was keen to have me return, one banquet was enough for me.  I also have classes to prepare for tomorrow, and a full day of teaching from 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., so I skipped the evening gathering.  There’ll be plenty of other chances for me and Cathy to get together during my year back.   Now is her time to be attentive to others, not me.

            I must admit I was very curious about the price of this huge meal.  When the staff whisked Cathy the bill to sign, which she charged to her credit card, I took a peek at the total:  14 tables at 600 yuan ($89) each, plus service and some drinks, brought the total to 9,050 yuan ($1,310).  While the amount sounds like a lot, remember that we each gave a gift of at least 100 yuan to celebrate in their happiness.  Our gifts covered not only the cost of the banquet but the cost of the beverages Cathy had purchased as well.  This same sort of custom is also used for weddings, in which banquet guests present envelopes of money to the happy couple who in return don’t have to go into debt to feed everyone.

            It may sound a little strange to us but in my mind, it makes practical sense. We give a gift to the hosts, the hosts in return give a gift to us.  No one loses out.  Not only that, but we all get to participate in the joyful occasion together.

            Now that’s a great celebration in honor of a young person going off to the university of his choice.

            Congratulations, Jack!  Congratulations, Cathy and Peter!

            It was a great banquet which many of us will remember for years to come.

From Luzhou, here’s wishing you a Sunday’s “Ping An” (peace)

             Two weeks ago, Jalin and I were watching the Olympics in my apartment.  It would be our last Friday together before I left for Luzhou and she was feeling a bit down.

            “Do you want to go to the English Corner?” she suddenly said with excitement.  “It’s at the university.”

            There had been several times during the year Jalin had asked me if I was interested in going to Sichuan University’s English language corner. 

            English corners in China are quite popular.  They pop up in city parks, university campuses, town squares, high schools and numerous other public places.  English corner gatherings are just that:  crowds of people, all ages and walks of life, coming together at a fixed time and place to practice their English.  They create small standing circles and begin speaking on any subject.  They discuss issues, tell stories, share family information, debate hot topics, or just join a small group to listen.  They are students, businessmen, teachers, parents, secretaries, managers  and the list goes on.  Everyone comes for one reason:  To practice their English.  Some use English in their daily lives, such as for overseas’ business ventures,  guiding English speakers  on tours or manning international hotels’ front desks.  Others have taken up English as a hobby, something they enjoy doing in their spare time.

            English corners can be found in any city, large or small, all across China.   Of course, the most popular and well-attended are those on university campuses. Sichuan University, according to Jalin, was no exception.

             Since this would most likely be one of our last opportunities to go to an English corner together, I said yes.  Although it was going on 8:30 p.m., and the English corner had already started at 7:30, Jalin insisted there wouldn’t be a problem.  People dispersed around 11 because they were so into speaking with one another.  I wasn’t about to stay so late but at least one hour would be fair, I thought.

            English corners in China tend to have only Chinese.  Most  foreigners who are teachers are too exhausted after a week of lessons to be “on stage” yet again at an English corner.   If a foreigner does happen to step into the crowds, he or she is usually surrounded by excited people, wanting to practice with a native speaker.  They press in close, straining to hear what’s being said. 

            Often times, one strong-willed individual will hog the entire conversation, inundating the overseas’ guest with questions or rudely butt in to interrupt others who are trying to talk.  If you’ve ever been to an English corner, as I have, you honestly have to be up for it with a smile on your face and a good dose of caffeine to keep you going for at least an hour.  Anyone in a bad mood, stay away or you’ll most likely be sour and terse when speaking with everyone.  Not at all a good image to portray to those eager to talk with a foreign English speaker.

            True, I was tired and still packing to leave for Luzhou that Friday night but I wanted to go with Jalin. I did it for her.

            Jalin and I made our way across the darkened campus toward the sports stadium where the English corner had already begun.  When we arrived, I was quite surprised by the vast number of people gathered.  There must have been 150 with only one other foreigner in sight that I could see.  But what truly surprised me were the children.  I  noticed two small boys in gradeschool talking to each other while adults were off in their own groups enjoying their chat time.          

           One thing that I am truly keen on is always encouraging young people to speak in English. I quickly went up to the boys and we began.

            Both had English names, Jake and John. Jake was 9 years old (the bigger boy) and John was 11 (the smaller).  Jake’s dad was an English teacher who was nearby.  John’s parents were in the car, waiting for him to finish. 

            Although I started with simple phrases, it was quite clear after a few minutes that these boys were at a higher level than quite a few of my Luzhou students.  Some of them couldn’t even say a sentence or understand a single word I said.  These boys were asking questions about the Olympics, my favorite sports, what I did on the weekend, and where I was from.  When I threw back at them different topics, they had no problem in understanding my meaning.

            When we were joined by a very tall 11-year-old girl, almost as tall as 9-year-old Jake,   I jokingly asked John, "Why are you so much shorter than these two?"

            John, not missing a beat, replied cheerfully,  "I am shorter but you see my English is better.  I’m smarter!"

            We all laughed but John wasn’t yet to be outdone.

           "Also," he said with seriousness, "we know that girls mature faster than boys.  Of course, she is taller but soon, I will be taller, too."

             I guess we know who was put in their place during that question-answer time. 

            I would have loved spending my entire evening with these two boys as they were so bright (and awful cute) but with a foreigner around, the adults were onto me pretty darn quick. 

            Adults are a different category of speakers because they tend to be pushy.  Taking turns is not exactly in the Chinese culture when it comes to conversation.  Everyone usually jumps right into the fray, interrupting one another or shouting over each other.  If you are experienced in English corners, you have to play a good hostess. 

            Make sure you address everyone individually in your circle.  Make sure everyone gets to say something.  Pull in the shy, hovering outsiders with a friendly question. Don’t let someone monopolize the conversation.  Move to another group if at all possible.

            The last public English corner I attended was 17 years ago in the city park in Nanchang, Jiangxi Province.  At that time, only the elderly or university students were in attendance.  Now the range has grown. So many different ages and professions were represented. 

            Jalin didn’t even join me.  She was too busy searching out the good-looking high school boys.  Later, however, she told me she met up with a Chinese pilot who had flown to many different countries.  He told her about his travels to America, Australia, Britain, Europe and Japan.   I also had some interesting representatives of the Chinese working world:  a bank teller, an artist, a newspaper reporter, a TV anchorwoman. 

            When I finally called it quits at 10 p.m., I had learned a great deal about the personal lives of many interesting individuals.  I had forgotten how much fun English Corner can be with those who have enough language ability to express themselves, their thoughts and their feelings.  It was a very eye-opening experience and one which I was so happy to have shared with Jalin our last Friday as neighbors.

            Back to my Luzhou vocational college, I had tried for several years  to start up an English Corner but it always failed.  The students would gather but they wouldn’t speak English with one another, only with me.

            “We have nothing to say,” they replied sadly.  “Our English is so bad.” 

            Their English spoken skills were so limited that they felt defeated before they even opened their mouths. 

            Despite this, I’m going to try organizing a campus English Corner this year and give it another go.  Out of  7,000 students, surely we have those who can speak English enough to help lead the less confident others. 

            Look at my little Chengdu friends, Jake and John.  If they can do it, surely these Luzhou college kids can.

            Wish us luck, everyone!  Maybe my next English Corner blog will be all about students here alongside the Yangtze river, enjoying an evening of  fun, productive language time together with one another and their foreign teacher, Connie.

           From beside the Yangtze River, here’s wishing you Ping An (peace) for your weekend.

            Six years ago, when I first moved into my little apartment overlooking the Yangtze River, I was too busy settling in to bother much with the outside balcony.  The security bars that jut outward to protect me from thieves remained bare. Even though there was plenty of room for potted plants, I had more important things to deal with than worrying about my apartment’s outside appearances. Besides, most Chinese don’t bother beautifying their balcony areas with living things.  The few who do leave their potted wards to fend for themselves.  They never water, trim, or fertilize.  Most plants just gather layers of dust blown up from the roads, caking their green leaves with sticky muck.  Eventually, they wilt or die.  The hardier survive, trying to catch what little rainwater they can or sizzling under wicked summer sun with little shade. 
            Yes, I’d have to say balcony plants in China have it rough.

            I had no plans of a balcony garden until I began to notice the campus.  For special occasions during the year, the school gardeners began to line the walkways with potted flowers.  As we walked to and from classes, yellow chrysanthemums, red amaryllis, white lilies, and colorful petunias greeted with their colorful, rippling waves. It made me yearn to have some plants of my own.

            That first year, I kept planning to get to the downtown Luzhou city park where the flower market was located.   The weekends brought out crowds of interested gardening folk who would pick through all the potted plants sellers had to offer.  Many preferred leafy, green varieties rather than flowering ones.  Maybe it was because they were easier to care for or lasted all year instead of having one particular blooming season.  In any case, I meant to go but never got around to it.

            I believe it was my last month of teaching that first year when I spotted a broken pot on the campus sidewalk.  Rows of other pots remained but this one obviously had had an accident.  The amaryllis it held had not yet bloomed.  The bulb lay in a spilled pile of dirt with the tall stem flopped on the cement.  It looked so pitiful lying there that I decided to take it home with me.  With any luck, I thought I could replant it and maybe it would thrive.

            The only dirt I could find on hand was a sandy mixture used by the construction workers next to my building.  They were using it to mix with concrete.  I pitched in half mud and half sand to create a home which I hoped the amaryllis would like.  After placing it in a new pot, onto the balcony it went.

            It looked a bit lonely up there but seemed happy.  Every day, I returned from my classes and peered overhead to see how it was doing.  Sure enough, a few days later it bloomed.  Its brilliant red petals looked so pretty from a distance.  Even my neighbors, their balcony security bars empty or filled with discarded junk, commented on how lovely my one amaryllis looked.

            That pretty much got me started on the plant scene.  I picked up several flowering pots from the flower market.  A few of them died due to insects or poor soil but some lived.  My amaryllis was one of them, always managing to keep its leafy extensions upright in any weather and any climate Luzhou threw at it.

            And every year, my amaryllis would bloom.  One year, it had two!

            When it was finally time to leave for Chengdu last year, I debated bringing it with me but thought that rather silly.

             “It’s just a plant,” I told myself although I did have quite a sentimental attachment to it after 5 years.  Besides, maybe the new foreign teacher would want something green around when he or she arrives.
            As it turned out, our school couldn’t find a foreign teacher last year. 

            My apartment remained empty. A couple of rats moved in.  The balcony filled with dust.  My outside flower pots dried up, betraying a vacant home.

            A week ago, the moving truck pulled up to my apartment building, and I hopped out eager to see my familiar balcony after over a year. I had no hope of  anything living up there until I glimpsed it — the leafy, green blades of my amaryllis shooting upward from its pot still staunchly standing on the security bars. 

            After all this time, it had managed to survive our winter freezes, having little water, the burning summer sunshine and thriving in undesirable soil.    

            I had a lot of moving moments that first day back on my campus.  There were the people  greeting me on walks throughout the school, my neighbors warmly clasping my hands in salutations, and the smiling faces of my colleagues when I entered the departmental office.

            But I’d have to say what touched me the most was looking up at my balcony where my faithful amaryllis, bending gently in the breeze, waved to welcome me home.

           From Luzhou, I wish you all "Ping An" (Peace)