cheese only

My American friend, Danielle, and I decided to try out the new pizza place near our school tonight. Its just a tiny little shop with a few tables and lots of pictures of pretty legit-looking pizza on the walls. We sat down, Chinese menu in hand, and attempted to decipher enough to figure out which pizza to order. Unfortunately, we didn't recognize enough characters to do any good, so we decided to just order a cheese pizza- simple and safe. There were 5 or 6 people who may or may not have been restaurant staff standing around, including one guy who could speak a little English. We tried ordering a pizza with cheese only, but something was definitely lost in translation so I called my friend who told him what we wanted. After a long process involving way too many people, our pizza was ordered. A while later, our much-anticipated cheese pizza was unveiled. To our surprise, "cheese only" was taken very literally and there wasn't a drop of sauce on it. Just crust covered in a ridiculously thick layer of mozzarella. I tried to comfort Danielle by saying it was just like a cheese bread stick. But, she really felt the need for sauce so we debated whether we could ask for some. Since the only word we knew that was remotely related was tomato, we used the dictionary word for tomato sauce but the girl didn't understand...not sure if it was the wrong word or if my Chinese is truly that bad. So after lots of tries, playing charades (Danielle pretending to spread a pizza with sauce), and Danielle standing in a chair to point to a picture of pizza high up on the wall, the English speaking guy declared that he knew. He came back with a pack of ketchup. Good guess, but not quite. That's probably what they use instead of sauce, but we decided "cheese only" beat ketchup. About 1 1/2 pieces in, the feeling in our stomachs told us what a really bad idea it was to eat that. We couldn't eat anymore, so we went to pay for it. The most expensive pizza on the menu was 25 kuai, but our bill was 57!! Why? The pizzas on the menu don't have cheese, and all ours had was cheese. Oh. So, 57 kuai poorer and sick as dogs, we dragged ourselves out of the shop and to the bus stop, all the way groaning, laughing, and declaring what a horrible idea it was to go there. Danielle said, "That is the first time in my life that 2 pieces of pizza put me over the edge." Not sure if I'll go back and try again, but I feel like if I do it will be a looong time from now. :)

"Um, excuse me, but I'm not really comfortable with this...."

Well, week one of the Spring semester is done! I'm thankful to have my 2 favorite freshmen classes again, and am looking forward to continuing those relationships. It seems as though I'm constantly being pushed out of my comfort zone these days. (And I say pushed because that's really what it takes to get me out sometimes.) Last semester's general challenge was the whole teaching situation, with a certain all-boys, barely-English speaking class as a specific challenge. But,I eventually got comfortable with teaching and had no reason to feel anxious about this term. Then, I got my schedule and realized that I had been given the task of teaching an oral English class to a group of 6 of my fellow teachers. Really?? I am the youngest, most inexperienced English teacher at our school and they gave that class to me!(One of the teachers in the class actually has a son my age!). I also realized that one of my classes wasn't a freshmen class, but a sophomore class...and also happened to be the class that several good friends of mine are in. So, what we have here are two potentially very awkward situations. I was not happy. Long story short, neither class was nearly as bad as I imagined they would be. Two of my friends in the sophomore class wrote notes to me that really encouraged me: one said, "We are friends, so maybe you are nervous (I know). Ha ha. Don't be nervous. I approve of you forever! Come on!" And the other simply said, "I love you!" Its crazy how much that helped me. Now, I'm really glad to have this chance to teach their class. It is a class of 30 girls, 10 of whom I already know well, so its a great opportunity to keep building relationships with those sweet friends! I was really concerned about my relationship with the other teachers. I was afraid they might feel like I thought I was superior or something, but we ended up laughing a lot together and they even joked around when the class was over saying "Bye, Teacher". I feel hopeful that our relationships are going to be good ones! 
Its the things that scare me and require more of me that bring about the growth and change that needs to take place. I am thankful that I'm loved so much that my craving for the comfortable and effortless isn't catered to. I'm not given what I want when it isn't best for me, or for the greater good, and when its all over, I'm so glad!

A Visit to the Village

I stepped off the warm bus and into the frigid winter wind. My friend, Cait, was supposed to meet me at the bus station, but I didn’t see her anywhere. After a few phone calls and some searching we finally found each other. My friend ran up to me and gave me a huge hug and “Welcome!” She is such a cute little Asian girl, wearing glasses, black down jacket, skinny jeans, and winter boots. I on the other hand am very inadequately dressed for the sudden cold front in my tennis shoes and not-so-heavy coat. Despite the fact that I am freezing, I try to match her enthusiasm.  I really am glad to see her, but I am also a wimp where cold weather is concerned. We get our tickets back to her village, and after an hour bus ride we are there. We get off the bus at what doesn’t appear to be a stop. It’s just the side of the road, but her mother and cousin are waiting there for us in a boxy silver van. I climb in beside her mother who welcomes me a bit shyly. Her face is tanned and wrinkled, appearing much older than I suspect she is. The life of a farm woman isn’t an easy one, and it often shows. We go along the road a short way and then turn into the village. Rows of houses, all with huge double doors leading to courtyards, line the small street. After some turns, we arrive at Cait’s house and go inside the courtyard. To my left is the goat pen, and the bathroom- a concrete platform with a hole in the center. We enter the main room of the house where Cait’s father, grandmother, and little brother are sitting. Her father has a kind face, I think. When he smiles his whole face scrunches up, and I like him immediately. Her grandmother is a small, slightly bent woman with a shocking amount of lines in her tanned face. She wears a little hat and is very fond of cigarettes. Cait’s brother is 10 years old, and very shy. He is sitting in front of the t.v. and refuses to look at me. Later Cait tells me that I am the first foreigner that her family, and most of the villagers, have ever seen. She told me that her parents have been a little worried about my coming. I ask why and she tells me that, “They worry because we cannot give you the best things. But we have prepared long for your coming!” I assure her that they shouldn’t worry. That night when its time for bed, Cait takes me to her bedroom. It is attached to the main room of the house, but you enter the room from an outside door. The room has no heating at all. In fact, the sole heating source in the house is the tiny cook stove in the main room. I go to bed with a bad attitude. I am miserably cold. The room is so cold that I can see my breath. My feet are ice cubes and I put my mittens on them to try to warm up. The next morning I force myself out of my warm cocoon of down quilts, get ready, and go to the main room. I sit down at the cook stove and bask in the relief from the cold. Today is the day we will have the main holiday meal. Cait and I, along with her brother and friend, go to an outdoor market for a while, but I do not enjoy it because the wind cuts like a knife. Oh, how I wish I had brought my boots and heavy coat! We return to the house because no one can stand the cold. After a while we go with Cait’s friend to her home.We sit with her friend’s mother and brother. They talk together in a language I don’t understand, and I eat sunflower seeds and oranges until it’s time to go. Back at Cait’s it is time for the family meal. Her immediate family, plus an aunt, uncle, and cousin, and I sit on our small stools around the short table. I am the guest of honor, I’m told, so I am seated next to Cait’s grandmother. Her grandmother is very concerned about whether or not I have enough to eat and periodically tells( me through hand motions and Cait interpreting), to “Eat more..drink more..you eat so little.” She reminds me of my own grandmother, and I think that that aspect of the grandma must be universal! That evening the house is crowded with children watching t.v., men sitting around the little table playing a game, and the women crowded around the cook stove talking and eating sunflower seeds. It is still a few hours until midnight and Cait and I are both bored, but determined to make it until midnight. Eventually the crowd thins out and Cait and her mom teach me to make dumplings. I really enjoy learning how to make traditional food and forget that I’m cold for a bit. Finally, midnight rolls around and Cait, her dad, her brother, and I head to the roof to shoot firecrackers. She tells me that her family never has firecrackers because they are too expensive, but because he knew I was coming, her father bought many. It breaks my heart a little for some reason. From the roof I watch Cait’s mother and grandmother preparing their offering to the gods in the courtyard below. There are incense sticks burning in holders beside all the doors. A small table covered with different foods is in the middle of the courtyard. Cait’s mother burns paper in front of the doors of some of the rooms of the house. I cannot concentrate on the fireworks because I find what is going on below much more fascinating. I ask Cait if her mother really believes that good things will come and bad things will stay out because of the sacrifices. She says her mother and grandmother do, but she does not. I go to bed cold once again, but this time I am aware of how self-centered I have been. I have never realized how much my attitude is directly related to my physical comfort until this trip. I am ashamed to realize that all I have thought about was how cold I am and how to fix it. In my mindset, if I am uncomfortable in some way, there is a solution. But all day I thought and thought and found there is no remedy for my discomfort. For a privileged Westerner, this is a foreign concept that isn’t readily grasped. I silently hope for a better attitude for the rest of the trip. The next morning, I head out to go mountain climbing with Cait and a couple cousins. On our way up the mountain we see a group of people gathered and hear a band playing. We head over for a closer look and find that they are people who are giving out stories. They give each of us a paper with some stories on it, and we continue our climb. Later that night sitting around the cook stove, Cait pulls out this paper and begins to read. She translates some into English and we are able to discuss some things. She expresses an interest in better understanding, and i think of ways I can possibly help her do that. She also tells me about her father’s illness. He has some problem in his brain and had to spend time in a major city for treatment. She tells me that the cost of his treatment is too much for the family (equivalent to about 1,600 dollars) so they must borrow the money from many relatives. She spent her senior year of high school at home caring for her father and studying on her own. As a result she didn’t get into a top university as she likely would have if she’d stayed at school. Yet, as she tells me this there is absolutely no bitterness in her voice. No hint that she feels she was dealt an unfair hand. She simply says, “Study hard. Work hard. Earn money. That’s what I must do! I must help pay my family’s debt.” Her father still has some episodes and probably needs to go back to the doctor, but they don't have the money, she says. My heart hurts for her. In the two days I’ve been with them, we have gone to countless people’s homes so that I could meet them, and so they could, as Cait put it, “Have a look” at the foreigner. I think we have finished with that, but Cait’s mother asks if I mind going to see her mother in the next village. I will go home tomorrow and I haven’t met her family yet. I really don’t mind. Cait, her mother, and I set out walking on the dirt road connecting the villages. Cait and her mom talk a bit, and Cait turns to me and says, “My mother hopes that if you are here next year that you can come back her and celebrate the holiday with us.” I smile and nod enthusiastically to her mother, who smiles back. Cait tells me that her mother just told her that, “My father said to my mother last night that they can regard you as a daughter. They love you. My mother thinks you are so kind because you go anywhere we ask you even though you’re tired and it’s boring because you don’t understand.” I hardly know what to say. I am simultaneously ashamed, broken hearted, and delighted. Why are these people so kind, I wonder. Why is it that I am constantly surrounded by people who treat me so well, who show me love in a million ways, and who ask nothing in return? I realize that the attitude change I had hoped for had come when I took my eyes off myself and looked at the sweet people around me, poor yet trying to give me their best, searching for healing and good things, yet in all the wrong places. The next day I leave that village with a new perspective, and several learned lessons. Whenever I think of complaining about how cold my apartment is, I hope I’ll remember my friend’s house. Whenever I get ready to have a pity party, I hope I’ll remember my friend’s situation. Whenever I start focusing on my own comfort, I hope I’ll realize it and change my focus to those around me. There are greater needs than I have ever known all around me. Even though my heart hurts for that family for several reasons, my heart is also full of love for them. And now as I strive to share hope with Cait, it’ll be not only for her, but for all of them.

the adventure has begun

So, I realize that this blog should’ve been started in September when I actually began teaching.However, I suppose “better late than never” is true, so here goes. :)

I’ll start at the beginning. From the time that I signed my teaching contract in July, I had this mixture of feelings regarding my upcoming job: excitement, anticipation, anxiety, and a whole lot of fear! I can’t describe to you the feeling of utter inadequacy that plagued me. I had thought of every reason that I wasn’t the right person for the job: I’m too young, I’m not qualified, I’m not a good leader, I’m not that outgoing, and so on. While I was home for the summer I did some research about teaching English and came to the conclusion that I had no idea where to begin. Coming out of a teacher education program where for years we learned about the American education system and its focus on accountability, I was floored when I got here and was given no direction whatsoever. No standards? No objectives? It’s all up to me?! My co-worker, also a first-time English teacher, asked the department if there was a text book we should use. Their response? They handed him a dry erase marker and said, “Here you go.” For an experienced teacher, I guess that kind of freedom is awesome. For a first-timer, its daunting. But thankfully, after arriving there were several other teachers (who have lots of experience) that gave me resources and tips. Lifesavers! I’m so thankful to have had their help. Pretty much all semester was trial and error for me. Try something new, see what works. Naturally, I had some big fails, but also some successes! It’s really amazing to see how much I’ve ended up enjoying teaching. Although I can’t say that I am necessarily passionate about teaching itself, I am definitely passionate about the relationship aspect of it. The opportunity it gives me to develop meaningful relationships with my students is by far my favorite part. It is so rewarding to have had the privilege of being a “safe place” for several of my students and friends to share things they haven’t felt they could share with anyone else. Who would’ve thought that 2 summers at a little girls’ camp in Mississippi, where we were encouraged to be a “safe place” for our campers, would be training ground for teaching college kids in China? I sure didn’t! Even though I have felt like a huge failure soo many times this past semester (in both teaching and relationships) it has been so wonderful to see the grace I’ve been given in spite of my mistakes.