Kacie and I finished our four demonstration lessons, “Conversational English with an American Teacher,” at a Beijing intensive school today. This whole thing had started out as the two of us doing one demo lesson together for 25 kids at this special vacation school but ended up with each of us doing four classes--200 students in all. The mother of one of our students from BCBUU (Business College of Beijing Union University) teaches at this place and had arranged our visits. Ying has been so good to us this summer, we wanted to do this for her--a chance for her to expand Boston Ivy (that’s the name of our program here this summer) into another venue.
The lessons went well and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves, but Ying has decided that she probably won’t form a partnership with this outfit, “Zhenxingxuexiao,” which is a school that runs on weekends during the school year and for two-week sessions during vacations. It specializes in giving kids ages 10-13 an extra boost in English, math, and science--intensive studying to boost their chances of doing well on the crucial exams these kids have to pass in order to continue their education at good schools. Chinese parents are very intent on doing anything possible to help their kids get ahead--remember, the examination system in China is thousands of years old--and performing remarkably is the path to success in life. Chinese kids are typically in school from 7:30 AM--5:30 PM (later when they get to high school) starting in first grade, and many attend these extra schools on weekends and during vacations.
Kids don’t play with other kids after school and on weekends. Their socializing happens at school or not at all. They have, as you have figured out, very little “free time” for in addition to all this schooling, many also take music lessons and swimming or another sport on the weekends and practice each day!
Anyway, the philosophy of Boston Ivy is that the way to become truly proficient (therefore, doing very well on the examinations) in English is to become comfortable with the language--e.g., to converse with native speakers (us!), to speak naturally, to expand ideas. The philosophy of Zhenxingxuexiao and many of the other intensive programs is that the way to do well on the English exams is to drill, do grammar exercises, and memorize answers that are sufficient if not proficient. (For instance, I had many students tell me, “I like to play football (swim, do kung fu) because it helps me lose weight” and “I like to play piano (draw pictures, play computer games) because it is interesting.” If I asked, “Why do you want to lose weight?” or “What makes it interesting?”, they would have absolutely no idea what I had asked.
The man who started Zhenxingxuexiao is my “first elder brother”. That’s at least what we decided: his name is Hao Shi Lio--his last name “Hao” is the same as mine. He is 72, making him older than my three siblings, hence he is my “first elder brother-- “da ge.” (I am everyone’s “mei mei”--littlest sister.)
Shi Lio (his first name) retired from a public school principalship when he was 60 (as is usual) and immediately started this weekend/vacation intensive academy, using whatever available school building he could rent and hiring former or present school teachers as his faculty. His business is immensely successful, and he reminded me in his smooth and thoroughly professional demeanor of William Cooper, head of Wolfeboro Camp School--a NH summer program where I taught 20 years ago--which has a similar academic purpose. My elder brother rides his bicycle to work each day, a partial explanation for why he looks like a 50-year old and moves like an athlete. Like many other principals I’ve known, his smile and affability can turn in a second if he spots an errant student. I would not want to be chastised by my first elder brother. I told him (all this through translators) that my grandfather Carlton Howe had been a school principal, too (I was thinking of Grandfather Howe’s reputation as the sternest of disciplinarians--perhaps that’s where my famed “teacher’s dirty look” came from) and that pleased Hao Shi Lio and made him sure that we really are related in some seventh-cousinly way...
Of course both yesterday and today, we of Boston Ivy (not just Kacie and me, but our entourage--Ying, Duo, & Kongli’s brother Kongwe) and some of the faculty of the school were treated to fabulous noontime feasts. Many, many courses, of course. Yesterday’s included Peking Duck (my fourth such banquet since I’ve been here...I have a few more to go, which is fine as long as they are at least a week apart...duck is very rich, you know, and it is always preceded by a dozen or so other dishes, such as yesterday’s steamed and garnished freshwater fish). I’ve determined to be brave and urbane at these feasts, trying all the dishes and not making up my mind because of unusual appearance or unfamiliarity. So yesterday I took a chopstickful of clear little 1” things I thought were tiny steamed rice noodles and started to pop them into my mouth when I noticed their little eyes. They were actually some kind of plankton-like eely fish which I just put on my plate instead of into my mouth. I did eat some of the wasabi sprouts and impressed everyone because I thought they were great, not too hot because of the horseradish sauce.
Have I mentioned that the usual way to eat at these banquets is to pluck off a pinch of the food from the serving dish as it goes by on the lazy susan? Everyone does that--plates are used only occasionally, sometimes not at all, even though everyone has a little one (bread & butter size) at their place. At today’s banquet, I forgot myself and did the American buffet thing, plopping one item after another onto my dishlet. As one interesting dish--a stringy cabbagy-looking thing--came by, I grabbed it with my chopsticks and plunked it onto my plate. Duo and Ying both laughed and said, “It is very hot” and I said, “I can take it,” but they giggled a bit
more. Lijiao, who was sitting next to me, said, “Do you know that you have chosen a bird’s foot?” I hadn’t known, but upon looking at it, I did make out the shape. I couldn’t eat it, even though I did try. I am not sophisticated. I am a rural American baby.Another new dish I did try today was stinky soup. It was a greyish dishwater color and I didn’t have a chance not to try it--Lijiao’s mother served up a bowlful for me and placed it in front of me. I thought it was going to be a coconut soup, which I’ve had before, but Ying told me it was a Beijing specialty, a favorite of people in her city. Just before I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, she said, “Don’t worry about the smell--it really tastes delicious.” (These are the people who love to eat durian, remember--a fruit which you can only believe if you actually try it.) The soup did smell like sewage, but I had already suffered the bird foot debacle at this meal and was not going to exhibit my infant behaviors again. I murmured something about being delighted to get to taste such a treat, and put a spoonful in my mouth. I have never tasted dishwater, actually, but this did remind me of a dishrag that wasn’t rinsed thoroughly before you wadded it up three days ago during the most humid part of July and now you have to decide if it’s worth saving.
I have written nothing about visiting Pang Liu village again--the wonderful, tiny little rural community I first saw 10 years ago; nor about the 8000 terra-cotta warriors of China’s first Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi (astonishing); or our lousy guide Cheng “Cool” in Xi’an who couldn’t think of anything else to show us in this ancient capital--home of more dynasties than any other city in China--on Thursday afternoon, so Kacie and I went to Starbucks and wrote postcards for two hours. I haven’t mentioned the man who snored in our cabin all night long on our 12-hour train ride back to Beijing (not a husband and therefore unpunchable); nor did I tell you about choosing material (black silk with ecru stylized dragons in a toile-like pattern) for my qi pao (traditional Chinese dress).
But I will tell you about two adorable little girls we saw walking with their
mother (I guess) and grandmother (I figure) at one of the urban malls in Xi’an.As you can see, these two were absolutely adorable--holding hands & stopping to stare/smile at Kacie and me as we were headed for the local Muslim bazaar to buy souvenirs. Their matching dresses and crocs were perfect, and I thought, “How lucky these kids are to have a mother who takes such good care of them” and I wondered if I had ever dressed Jen & Kath in matching dresses like this (I don’t think I did, although they had some coordinated outfits...)
When Kacie and I returned an hour later from our (successful) bargain hunting, we saw the girls and their grandmother again. This time they were huddled up on the pavement, leaning again the corner of a building, all sound asleep. Why? What is their story? Why hadn’t they walked a little further to sit on a nearby park bench? Where had the mother gone? Why were they on the filthy sidewalk instead of at home for a nap? Had they eaten?
If I haven’t invited you to see all my pictures at the Kodak Gallery, please send me an e-mail (chow6569@gmail.com) and I will do so. If you want to comment or ask questions about my blog, please e-mail me--I can’t access it from here.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
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