My life in China, Part 7- Teaching and Tea

So, there I am in the classroom waiting for my test subjects in my first teaching experiment. They slowly filter in, all very intrigued by this young foreigner at the podium nervously slurping tea like some sort of connoisseur. God, I must have looked a fool.

I didn’t even know what kind of tea I was drinking then. By the color, I assume it was green, but I would find in my life journey that there are many types of green tea. There are as many subtleties in tea culture as there are in wine culture. Back then, I had just picked up a bag of green leaves in the store. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even tea! It was certainly more robust than the tea I knew growing up.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was not a tea drinker at the time, but coffee in Baoding was like gold, both in its rarity and its expense. Being a slave to this elixir since the age of seven, I needed to get a source of caffeine from someplace, and tea worked for a time (at least kept the headache at bay). It was early morning on the weekend, and as I was up late preparing for the surprise class. I hadn’t slept well and I needed the stimulation. Eventually, I fell in love with jasmine green tea, and then I found Nestle Instant Coffee, and it helped (although, being milk flavored and sweetened, it was more like hot chocolate). To get real bean coffee, you had to go to Beijing and pay a fortune. A few weeks in, I bought a bag of Starbucks for 120 RMB- so almost $20. On a Chinese salary, that was pure decadence. The prices are probably better now, but then, it was a real struggle for a coffee lover. I had optimistically brought a small coffee pot from home, but I burnt that out when I plugged it into a converter. So, I used just the basket and boiled water. It was the best coffee I ever tasted. Anyway, I digress.

In that first class, I would say there were about thirty young faculty. They were mostly in their 30’s with a few outliers in their 20’s, so younger teachers. That meant that many of the room’s participants were not much older than me and some were students themselves. China’s higher education system uses a system much like a teaching assistantship (with a more significant workload and responsibility). Those pursuing advanced degrees such as Master’s or PhDs teach to support their education and themselves. There were a few outliers, but in general, I was in the company of peers.

I was a bit reassured by this as I envisioned a group of stern-faced old-school professors (I should have known that a group like that wouldn’t be caught dead in a class like this). This group was open-minded, forgiving, and generally ok with having some fun! Most also spoke at least a bit of English, with some better than others, but I wasn’t starting from the ABC’s here. Introductions were possible. Actually, in all the groups I taught in China, there was some level of English knowledge- all except the Kindergartners, but we’ll get to that adventure in time. As a teaser, picture a tall redhead in a class full of Chinese six-year-olds. I wish I had a video.

I tried thinking back to the day of my first class in preparation for this post, but I have virtually no memory of what transpired. Those stressful moments are either clear as a bell or blurry images. I imagine my lack of memory was because I was just happy I survived. I remember a few strange things, like the room, the tea, and what I was wearing. But as to the topic of the class, it all blurs together. From future first-class memories, I imagine I introduced myself and went around the room to hear a bit about the students while gauging their English level. I remember it varied widely, mostly around age and gender, i.e., the younger females spoke much better than the older males on a continuum. I would find that most were faculty from the Management college, so brushing up on their English made sense. After introductions, I think I tried out a lesson from the stupid textbook. Being filled with errors and strange word choices, I would learn that it was better to stay away from the book and focus on just getting students to speak.

At the time, us Foreign Experts called English language proficiency in China a dumb language. Not in the stupid sense, but in the not speaking meaning of the word. Many students could read very well and understand at a reasonably high level, but large class sizes meant that they rarely had a chance to speak. I faced the same challenges in my own classes over the years. A few days after being told about this class of teachers, I had another late night addition to my course load with an undergraduate course of 50+ English majors. It was in a classroom with all sorts of audio technology that no one ever showed me how to use, so I never used it. I imagine other teachers might have been in the same boat. These were English majors, yet when I asked them to speak, I got wide-eyed expressions of fear, and with each student talking for just one minute, that was 50 minutes, so basically the entire class.

As a native speaker with no ESL education training, the real value I could add is giving my students a chance to speak with a foreigner, and at the very least, a chance to hear a foreigner speak naturally. Anyone could teach them grammar and vocabulary, and sometimes I found students correcting me, so there was no lack of this instruction. I was there to force them to speak and teach them about conventions and culture, and that’s what I did. I started with lesson plans, grading, and all that jazz, but eventually, it morphed into just discussions. Not all got value out of that interaction, and there was a bit of attrition in all my classes. However, those who stayed wanted to learn the real language and were as intrigued by American culture as I was intrigued by Chinese culture. The lessons often continued outside of class, and I became like an English language Messiah surrounded by my apostles as I walked about Baoding. Ok, that is a considerable stretch, but you get the picture.

It is much different now. I think I was there at just the right time to have a good job. Even when I was living in China back in 2005, 2006, and 2007, they taught English in kindergarten, as I alluded to above. By middle school, many children, especially in cities like Beijing, are almost fluent now. Demand for Foreign Experts has thus decreased. For my wife’s generation (80’s and 90’s), which corresponds with my age, English began in sixth grade. Still better than my journey with a second language, which started in 9th grade Spanish, but not by much.

If you are not familiar with language learning, the best time to learn a second language is before the age of 9- the magic number in language development. In childhood, the brain is like a sponge and perfectly adapted to soaking up a lexicon, but it gets much less elastic as we get older, and things start to solidify. The subtitles, in particular, become much more difficult to master, which leads to accents. It isn’t always the case, there are certainly language virtuosos out there that put us all to shame, but generally, that is how the cookie crumbles.

I mention this because I also didn’t spend a lot of time correcting my students’ accents. For one, it felt rude to interrupt (and perhaps discouraging), two, my instruction likely wouldn’t take, and three, the most important job I had was getting them to use the language. In other words, to pull it out of theory and push it into practice. Some will disagree, and that’s fine. I am no expert, but it was the conclusion I came to at the time, and probably the most I could offer not being a trained ESL teacher.

So, I focused on informal discussions and offered a bit of business English conventions and American culture. For vocabulary, I taught slang, specialized words for the business setting, and differences between American English and other countries’ uses (UK, Australia, South Africa, India, etc.). Generally, it was the things they wouldn’t learn from a textbook or a Chinese English teacher. But, what I spent most of my time on was dispelling or confirming what they’ve heard about the United States. Keep in mind, this is a communist country, and there was indeed a bit of propaganda to dispel. Everyone seemed to think that the US was super dangerous, and if they traveled there, they would be robbed and shot. Most students were surprised that I didn’t own a gun. Americans were also too promiscuous, divorced too much, and were individualistic to the point where we didn’t have relationships or even cared about our parents. Some of what they heard was true, some false, but it was all exaggerated and applied to the whole country and in all cases. These ideas were often comical, but sometimes disturbing (in a country where almost everyone is Chinese, racism is an interesting topic for sure).

In these discussions, I tried to be as honest as possible. Still, I actively steered away from touchy or forbidden topics like politics (especially anti-communism, Tibet, Taiwan, Tiananmen Square, Japanese aggression during WWII, etc.) and religion (preaching mainly). If a student brought up something in class or it made sense to discuss something moderately touchy to give context, I tried to be as careful and unbiased as possible. Often I tried to offer the American viewpoint, as I understood it, in a way that showed a different side of the story without stating who was right or wrong (even if it was clear). Some may take issue with this liaise-fare approach, but I wasn’t there to preach or incite rebellion, and it wasn’t safe to do so. They watched us pretty closely (a quick Google search will show you what I mean).

Every class had a known or unknown party representative sitting in the mix. I didn’t discover this until I met my wife, and she lifted the curtain a bit. They were called class monitors, and I just assumed they were there to help as a teaching assistant, but actually, they were spies for the party. They were not necessarily malicious but would report anything off-color. As you can imagine, staying friends with this person was incredibly helpful. Those that made enemies with their class monitors had a difficult time. As a side note, and this might sound paranoid, but I’m pretty sure they tapped our phones too. That isn’t to say that I didn’t have some provocative discussions during my years in China, but I held these privately, not so much for my safety but my students’ protection. When I was there, if you were found crossing line, they would most likely just send a foreign teacher home, but the penalty was much more severe for students, maybe even imprisonment. Again, things have changed, and in this case, not on the side of the better. China has clamped down dramatically, and teaching English has much more risk involved. Many foreigners who had made China their home have chosen to leave in recent years. Now, a simple transgression- like joking about a Chinese folk song for example, or referencing Winnie the Pooh could lead to imprisonment for all, including the foreign teacher.

I describe all this as a bit of a segue. This particular class of teachers was not mandatory. They were all there voluntarily, or as voluntary as things can be in China’s Higher Education. It was full of teachers with heavy course loads, studying for future degrees, and, in many cases, with families. Coming to my conversational English class on the weekend was not their priority. After a few weeks, the class got smaller and smaller until it didn’t necessarily make sense to have lessons in the cold and drab classroom. So our interactions became more social. By the end of the first month, only three students remained: two males eager to learn as much English as possible and one female. As you can guess, this female would become my future wife.

I mention above that I only remember a few things from that first class. I kept out one particularly important focal point to avoid a spoiler. One distinct memory was meeting my future wife. It may sound corny, but she was the most vibrant and beautiful person in that room, and it was an electric moment. Was it love at first sight? I was pretty nervous that day and had some other things to focus on, but it was certainly close because I definitely remember her.

To be clear, I did not go to China to meet a wife. I know this may be going through your mind at this point. It’s ok. It’s a natural assumption. Some certainly do that, but this wasn’t my path. Was I closed to the idea of finding love? I was 25 and single. What do you think? Another common misconception is that my wife just wanted to come to the US. I know many Americans think their country is the best in the world, and it is pretty great, but if you travel internationally, you’ll find that others can be just as awesome. China, especially it’s people and culture, is not as bad as our media and politicians often convey. The typical Chinese are just living life like anyone else and are happy to do so in China. I can say that our own experience living together as newlyweds in our little apartment was incredibly comfortable and I have many fond memories. Coming to the United States was a massive struggle for us personally, culturally, and financially, and done more because we wanted to continue our graduate school studies than anything else.

One more thing to note, even though I taught my wife in a class format, she was not a student. She was a colleague. Again, another point we feel obligated to mention. My wife, who looks much younger than me by genetics and skincare, is actually a year older, so she’s the one that robbed the cradle. The myth of the older American male going to China to find a wife that marries him for a green card is not our story. Even after 15 years of marriage, we still feel the need to dispel these theories when we explain how we met. It is among the many struggles of being in an international marriage.

During that time, we fell in love like any two people. We were young and didn’t fight it. We followed our hearts and never looked back. Sure, that journey may have been further than most, with many obstacles, but that made it all the more potent. Were are experiences extreme? Oh, certainly. Were there bumps? Of course and I will share some of the more comical ones in future posts, but our story is really about just two people that fell in love. Yes, it happened fast and moved quickly, but not many marriages make it 15 years (in either of our cultures), so we must have done something right (especially spending 24 hours a day seven days a week with each other during this pandemic).

Anyway, the class got smaller and we started to spend more time with each other. We found we had a lot in common and it was all just so much fun. Everything was new, different, and exciting. I don’t know how else to explain it. We just clicked. We had a connection that transcended our differences and I very much believe that fate connected us together. There were a lot of things that happened in both our lives that brought us to Baoding at that time (she is not a native of the city or province, she is from Dalian in Liaoning province on the border with North Korea). Our paths to that dusty little city were filled with twists and turns and I can’t help feel that it was my destiny to travel to China to find my soulmate.

Check back soon for my next post as the journey continues. There’s lots to talk about and I may stop going in order (it was a long time ago and I don’t always recall the order of things) and examine certain experiences and interactions that resonated with me over the years. If there is anything about my experience that you are curious about or would like to hear more detail, drop a comment below, and I will see what I can do.

Cheers!