In China I sometimes feel anxiety due to the fact that it's hard to communicate with other people: to understand and to be understood has turned out to be more important than I ever imagined.. Go figure! I am the only foreign teacher in our school(s) and also the first full time foreign teacher they have ever had working for them. This means that my bosses and colleagues don't have the experience or know-how to integrate me in the school world. They sometimes seem to forget that I simply do not understand Chinese and that if they do not give me important, vital information, I don't even know how to ask for it.
Due to this lack of understanding and excess misunderstandings I have found a cure: a small group of us Westerners living here get together, drink beer and vent. It's incredible how it helps to have people with the same cultural background (and language abilities) listening to your issues and understanding completely what you've been through because they've been there themselves. After a hard week it's fantastic to walk into a bar and talk normally, without a language barrier, being understood and understanding what everyone says! The best things in life truly are free.
But last week this is how my troublesome week began. I had a particularly hard week at work and so when I got to our local pub I downed a few beers. Then played beer pong with rum and coke. Then had some more beers. And I think someone had Chinese wine (equals to strong gin in taste and evil-ness) to share with the group. Needless to say I was toasted after a few hours. I had the brains to call it a night and head home to cuddle with my toilet bowl. Next morning I realised I had lost my purse with more than 2000¥. That's a week's pay for me and usually how much I spend in an entire month altogether. So understandably I was quite upset. Addition to that my head was pounding and I experienced a two day hangover. Served me right I gather.
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| A golden oldie: my first day working at the kindergarten |
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| They were as fascinated of me then as they still are! |
When I returned to work I had the busiest week since starting to work here: I usually have 3 classes a day, but now they scheduled me double the amount. I did alright, until I completely lost my self control in front of some exceptionally naughty kids. I am usually patient and in control, but I found myself yelling "shut up!" to a bunch of 5 year olds. I felt so low.
Next day I was in for a surprise: my recruitment agency send me a casual message via a social media App that I'm flying to Beijing that night to get my visa sorted. My boss nearly went ballistics because in two days we were having a youth camp for the kids and I was the main attraction. I told my boss that I simply don't know how long I'll be gone, because the recruitment agency never gives me any details. Which is typical in China: if something of importance is about to happen, they will inform you around 5 minutes before it actually happens. When working, this means no heads up, no schedules, no nothing. Usually I feel like working blind folded: I know nothing no matter how much I ask for information. After talking to my foreign friends working here, I know all of us experience the same phenomena.
However, off to Beijing I went that night - without any idea when I'll return. I get to Beijing airport at midnight and the company has failed to inform me who is coming to pick me up or when. Typical. So I call them and wait for 40 minutes for my ride. I am exhausted after an already busy week at work and lack of good sleep. I get to the hotel around 2am and enjoy a few hours of sleep, which is nowhere near enough. In the morning a different person picks me up, a Chinese guy I know well and really like him, and we drive to the residency office to sort out my visa. It takes us more than 2 hours to drive there - so we sit in the traffic and make small talk. All this time I wish I could be in bed, catching up on the sleep I've lost earlier this week and which I desperately need to be able to function later at the youth camp.
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| The best view I got in Beijing during my half-day trip.. Did I mention traffic in Beijing is INSANE! |
We finally reach the visa office and the whole thing is done in 15 minutes. I feel like the trip is a waste of time: flying in and out Beijing for half a day just to walk into an office. Sigh. After brunch I'm told that I fly back this afternoon: but since it's a public holiday and the flights were fully booked they can only fly me to the nearest city, not my home town! Luckily the school has promised to organise me a lift back home so it should be easy. So I spend another 2 hours commuting to the airport, checking in, waiting for the delayed plane and finally boarding. When I land at my destination I'm cranky due to the lack of sleep, excess traveling and sheer annoyance of the futility of this trip. And then my lift is nowhere to be found. I call my contact and she says the driver will be there in 20 minutes. OK, I sit and wait yet again. A small city, quite like mine, and I'm the only foreigner at the airport. All eyes on me. When I'm tired, stressed or annoyed, I can't stand the rude stares and the "secretly" taken pictures of me. I want to scream out. I hide my face behind my hands or a newspaper, anything. I can't stand it. Then a Chinese kid comes and starts shoving me, he doesn't want me to sit on this particular chair. Before I totally lose my head, a parent comes along and takes the child away. Everything seems unbearable. Finally I get the call, the car appears and the driver heads off with three of us passengers. I count the minutes, hoping to reach home early. And then the car has an accident.
Luckily nothing more serious than cosmetic damage to the car, but due to the insurance policy we have to wait for the police to arrive and take pictures. So we wait. And wait. 3 hours later we get the green light and can head off. At this stage it's 11pm and I've been sitting in cars, subways, lounges and airplanes for a total of 11 hours within a day - I'm fed up, I just want to sleep. I call my boss who already knows we've had an accident and have been delayed. She does the sweetest thing in a long time: she tells me that I'm supposed to arrive at the school next morning at 7.30am to get ready for the camp, but she wants me to get more sleep so I can arrive at 10am. I'm so relieved and happy I could cry!
A miracle happens and in the car there's a Chinese man who actually speaks English! He tells me we will be arriving home very late and offers to buy us all dinner. We head out to an open air restaurant and have noodels, lotus root, meat jello and meat skewers. I'm starving and it's delicious! I sit there at 11pm and am having lunch with these Chinese people who are lovely and helpful. I almost get emotional when they offer me a chair or demand that I have the last meat skewer on the plate. I'm exhausted but feel lucky to have met these people, no matter the language barrier.
I feel happy as I'm well fed and warm, sitting on the back seat of the car heading home. I'm too tired to sleep, I can only rest for now til I get back to my bed. It's pouring down, which seems befitting.
When I finally get home it's 1am and I'm so tired and weary I can barely function. Yet I have to pack my bag for the camp. I get a good sleep but wake up feeling tired: I need more to compensate on the lack of sleep this week. But as I have no such option, I have my breakfast and head to meet the camp. Luckily the camp has had a change of plans and we are actually staying in town instead of heading out for the mountains: this means less commuting, which sounds heavenly after spending the previous day doing basically only that!
The camp is intense. There are 23 kids and as I pull in and get out of the cab, they see me and start chanting my name. Bless them, they are super excited to spend the weekend with me, I almost get teary eyed. But I can barely stay awake. The morning starts with a guy in army gear lining the kids up and shouting orders. At first I play along, mimicking others, but then I'm told if I want to, I don't need to join them. Which sounds only rational, as it's all in Chinese and I have no clue what's going on. So I stand there, watching them for the next hour before someone has a clear thought and they tell me I look exhausted, so if I want I can check in to the hotel room booked for us and have a rest. Fantastic! I feel so happy, I curl up in bed and wish to sleep forever. Thank you, boss! The rest of the day I have to make a real effort. All the kids want a part of me, so I have lunch with a big group of them and they all try and talk to me. I'm happy even the pre-teens are so excited, they think I'm the coolest :D
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| Playing a game with the primary schoolers |
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| Painting Easter eggs with the kids |
The teaching part of the day is gruesome: obviously no one prepared me and I walk into it blindfolded again. I get handed a microphone and shown to a stage. I guess it's time for a class. It's painful to realise that what I wanted to teach and how, is now all of a sudden unclear to my assistant. She keeps cutting me off and telling me "no, we have to do this first", or "no, we are not doing that". I feel so frustrated I want to throw the mic at her face. We actually had a meeting two days prior to the camp to discuss about these things but now it makes no difference: clearly a massive misunderstanding and also she has not told me what she wants to be done and how. It's so typical. Except for this time, since I'm standing on a stage holding a microphone in front of little shining, happy faces and doing my very best to smile. I feel like such a phony. My "smile" is so tight it must look grotesque. So what happens? My assistant takes over. I just stand there and try to keep my "smile" on. I feel like this, too, is such a waste of time. All these thoughts run through my head: "why am I here, in this classroom, at this camp, in China? What's the point of this? Where do I draw the line?". The class comes to an end and I wish I could murder someone. Luckily the hard part is done for the day. That night we finish work at 10pm and I get some decent sleep.
The next day I wake up feeling superiorly better than the previous day. I'm pumped, I want to give a 100% and make this camp the best ever! And yet, the class turns out to be just as painfully disastrous as before. I have spent good time talking to my assistant, trying to figure out before I get on stage exactly what it is that they want me to do, and how. And yet we end up in the same situation: surprise surprise, the way I was planning the class is not how they want it done. I am so fed up I let the assistant take over again. I want to bang my head against a wall. I don't know what to do from preventing this to happen. I'm even more frustrated. I realise I'm fake smiling again.
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| Dancing "letkajenkka" with the kids |
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| Easter decorations in the make |
But my day is totally saved by the kids. There are three different groups joining the camp: the pre-teens, the primary school students and kindergarteners. They all want to hug me, tell me they love me, ask me all these questions, hold my hand and play with me. You can not but love all these kids! I am still tired but also having so much fun with them. They work so hard and face a lot of pressure from their parents to exceed, to do better and better and yet better. Everyone wants to be number one, the very best.
They say that Chinese parents will give everything to their child(ren) - and it's true, but it comes with an awfully high price. I saw a boy fall down crying, sobbing in a corner for an hour because he thought he didn't do well enough at the camp. Another boy whose English was improved during the camp, was shy to speak because he was told by his parents that he needs to be perfect so he was afraid of making any mistakes, hence didn't dare to talk much. It's heart wrenching as I see kids like these all the time. You just feel like hugging them and telling them they're the best. I told their parents instead.
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| All eyes on me. No pressure. |
The last part of the camp was when the parents arrived to see how the kids had been doing at the camp and to take them home. I was told I need to give a speech to the parents and was instructed (for once!) of all the things to do and say. I felt so sympathetic for the kids, so I gave the most uplifting, heart warming appraisal of a speech for the parents and everyone gobbled it up. Mind you, I am excellent with words and when I feel sentimental I can deliver grandness oozing monologues. No matter how the actual camp had been, all the difficulties I had struggled with, I was happy when I saw everyone light up during my speech, loving it. I was so happy it was all over and I could finally go home.
In retrospect I think many things happened for a reason. It was such a rough week, but I was reminded to be grateful for what I got. I have a job which sometimes drives me off the wall, but I have some good people there, no matter how unorganized they are professionally, they care about me and my well being.
I have also had the good luck of finding good people and acts of kindness no matter where I go: I made a friend during the long drive home and enjoyed the company I was with.
As a bonus I was told in Beijing that after my contract ends with the school, the recruitment company would be pleased to have me work for them - I was told they like my personality and thought I would be great working as a host and an organizer for all the international teachers they have coming and going through Beijing. I was so impressed.
After all that's happened, I am not even bothered about losing my purse and all that money. I am willing to see it as it was: a bit of bad luck in the midst of all the good things that I actually have got. At the end of the day, it's good people that make life worth living. :)
Wish you all a great week!
Zàijiàn!
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| And happy Easter! |
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