我的孩子

So I've started teaching. Bear in mind that for our purposes, the words "teaching" and "teacher" are to be taken in the loosest possible sense. I teach freshman English majors - four groups of them (conveniently named group one, two, three, and four, respectively). In Chinese Universities, students are placed into fixed groups according to their major. They attend every single class together, week in and week out, for their entire four years of college. So Group One not only has Oral English (with Professor Snow) together - they also have English Listening, Complex English, English Pronunciation, Political Theory (indeed), and P.E. together. Yes, they have P.E. in Chinese Universities. It's pretty much just like high school P.E., except that there's about two hundred kids running around the soccer field at one time. Literally.

So when I walk into a classroom, these kids have had to put up with each other for every single class that day. It makes for a very different dynamic.

Chinese University schedules are also different. None of this haphazard scheduling based on the necessities of individual curricula - they have time periods, just like high school. Classes are one hundred minutes long, sweet merciful Jesus. Two forty-five minute segments with a ten minute break in between. I have eight of these a week, for a total of sixteen "teaching hours". Not bad.

Okay, now that all of the exposition is out of the way, let me tell you about my kids.

I call them kids because (anyone who has taught English in Asia will understand this) they are children. They are dazzled by my tales of Mickey Mouse and alligators (yes, I use the same speech every time). The girls dress modestly, don't wear make-up, and giggle constantly. The boys segregate themselves from the girls and will generally refuse to speak to them. They will all do just about anything for candy.

Candy. I think my little sister stopped being excited about candy when she turned eight.

Here's another important fact: 85% of my students are girls. Without resorting to sexist stereotypes like "girls are incessantly chatty" or "girls never shut up", I will say this: girls love to gab. As such, they are inexorably drawn to foreign languages in an effort to increase their potential gabbing partners. Boys, on the other hand, prefer communicative styles based on throwing things and shoving, so they are less interested in English. What dudes I do have seem to have ended up in my class by accident. Indeed, Jessica tells me that an English major is the Chinese equivalent of "communications" or, as she describes it, "English major is no major".

My kids are very sweet, and very shy. While they're not nearly as shy as Japanese kids, they still trip all over themselves when they speak. They tend to overheat if you put too much focus on them. One must keep things very light and indirect to avoid breaking them. Put too much pressure on them, and they begin to resent you.

My kids love to laugh. I exploit this for all it's worth. I have to make them forget themselves to make them feel comfortable and get them speaking. Put the focus on them while making it seem like it's still on me. Everything balances on a razor's edge - keep a kid standing too long, and suddenly the whole class get embarrassed and shuts down. You can feel the change in mood like the turning of the tide.

My kids are fascinated by the fact that I come from another country. So far, I have ended every single class with a five minute question and answer period. So far, they have not run out of questions. What is your favorite food? Why did you come to China? Can you sing a song? And the most popular question of all: Do you have a girlfriend? Maybe this doesn't seem strange to you, but this is because you aren't picturing the following: American university students, asking their language teacher the same questions. Not happening.

To be honest, the first few classes were pretty unremarkable - for me, that is. Lots of fun, lots of laughs, etc. The kids get a kick out of everything I do because we're still in that honeymoon period. They'll do whatever I tell them to, laugh at every joke - it's nice while it lasts. I know that soon they'll become obstinate and lazy. For now, they're eager and amiable. They're up for anything. They're my kids.