I was invited to my school to judge an English competition on my birthday. At the end several students and teachers sang songs. They asked me to sing, too. I don’t know any songs by heart, especially with out the music, so I sang Take Me Out to the Ball Game. Laugh if you will, I was just having some fun.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdTdQCchyIk[/youtube]

I’ve been going through all of my Chinese videos and pictures, trying to find some interesting things to blog about. I’m mad at myself for not taking more videos, and better pictures while I was there, but oh well, I’ll just have to deal with what I have. The next time I go somewhere, even if it is to a Braves game, I’m going to use my camera a lot more.

The video I picked out for today isn’t amazing or anything. It’s just the students at the primary school running their daily laps with my strange voice over, but I thought someone out there would enjoy it. I’m talking so slow in the video because I had just finished teaching. Talking slow is basically a requirement for teaching English in China, especially if your students don’t understand most of what you say. It took me awhile to teach myself to talk like that. I sound very robotic. Every time I hear it, it makes me laugh. As the video progresses, my speed picks up. It’s only in the very beginning that you can tell.

The students both at my school and the primary school did exercises just about everyday, unless it was raining excessively hard or something. I’ve got a video of my students exercising somewhere. I’ll try getting that up soon, but for now you can see a picture of them – here. Enjoy!

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Os4vzKHBM-4[/youtube]

Several weeks ago, Phil was cleaning up what used to be his room at his parent’s house, when he came across a stack of journals he had written in elementary school. I think they were from the 4th grade, but I can’t remember off hand, and Phil isn’t sitting here to tell me. All of them were addressed to his teacher, who he called Mama T. I asked him why he called her that instead of Mrs. So-and So, and he said that it was what she told everyone to call her. There must have been 30 or more journals that he’d written, but I’ve only scanned the one below for your reading pleasure. Maybe if you leave lots of awesome comments, I’ll be able to convince Phil to let me scan the rest.

If you read all of the journals back to back, they tell the story of Phil and an eraser called Evil E. They do all sorts of things together. They travel through space and time, all the while causing lots and lots of trouble. Most of the entries have little drawings of Evil E. doing something bad, whether it is holding a gun to someones head or beating someone up. I thought they were pretty funny.

If you want a glimpse into Phil’s young mind, just take a look below, but be very, very afraid. Heh.

Phil would have been called in by the authorities, had he drawn this in school today.

Ah, the world has gone mad – mad I say!

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4[/youtube]

Mad World by Gary Jules

I don’t know whether Phil was trying to say Damn School or Dumb School.

I think Damn School is funnier, so I’ll stick with that. 🙂

Here are a few more of the entries from my third grade journal.

Haha, I was giddy.  I’m surprised I knew that word.

I think I was an angry kid. I’ve found a lot of entries where

I’ve said that I was mad at someone.

I remember nights when I would sing until I got sleepy.  I was a weird kid.

I can see why I never became a famous artist.

I think I actually remember being mad about this.

How dare someone not tell me they are moving!  The nerve! 🙂

One evening, in Fuyang, Phil and I were invited to attend one of Phil’s student’s birthday party. For the life of me, up until 5 minutes ago, I couldn’t remember the name of this student. I’m sure that you don’t care, but it was about to drive me mad. I hate when I can’t remember stupid stuff. Anyway, the student’s name was Alan, it was his 16th or 17th birthday, I can’t recall, and he wanted his two new foreign friends to celebrate with him. We gladly accepted the invitation, of course. Alan was a good student and actually seemed like he wanted to be our friend, unlike many others who just wanted to tote us around and show us off like we were an exotic breed of dog.

Alan told us to meet him at the school gate after class. He didn’t live too far away, so we all decided just to walk to his parent’s house. When he finally got to the school gate, he looked very troubled and sad. Apparently, he had somehow lost the 200 yuan(RMB) that his parents had given him to use at KTV – Karaoke TV – later that night. He thought someone in his class had taken it, but since he didn’t have a clue who, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it. We offered to give him the money, but he politely declined. Some of his fellow classmates, who were also going to be in attendance at his party, were going to help him out. He made us promise not to tell his parents.

We first stopped by his grandmother’s house – at least that is who I think it was. She was old and they seemed related. We sat there for a while basically staring at each other. She didn’t speak any English, and our Chinese was limited – conversation was almost impossible. Alan translated a little for us. She gave us some tea, and when we were done, we walked a few more blocks to his house.

We arrived to find Alan’s father cooking in the kitchen. If I remember correctly, his father was a cook in a local restaurant, but don’t quote me on that. His parents, like his grandmother, spoke no English – besides hello. They greeted us with huge, happy smiles on their faces. Phil and I sat down on the couch and started sucking on some sugar cane that we saw cut up in a bowl on the coffee table. I always expected sugar cane to be more, well, sugary, but this kind wasn’t. I wonder what they call a coffee table in Chinese since many of them don’t drink coffee. Hrm, I never thought of that before now. 🙂

Phil had brought his computer with him so that he could play some American music for everyone. Music always makes a party better, didn’t ya know? Well, the music that Phil played was a bit different than what they were all used to. A lot of it was harder than the typical music played on Chinese radio. If you’ve been to China, you know exactly what I am talking about. If you haven’t, most of the music, at least what I heard, is very soft and slow. I’d say a lot of their songs have a rather strong lulling effect. I tried picking out some softer music for them, and they seemed to like that a bit more.

After Alan’s father finished cooking and had all of the dishes placed on the table, both of Alan’s parents said goodbye and left. I was very confused. I asked Alan why his parents were leaving, and he said something like his parents didn’t want to bother us. Phil and I shrugged our shoulders and started digging into the feast that lay before us. All and all, it was an okay dinner. I wasn’t particularly fond of any one dish. Like at most birthday parties, the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about was the birthday cake.

Birthday cakes in China are a little different from what us westerners are used to. The cake is more spongy, and the icing just tastes different. I don’t know exactly how to explain it. Also, a lot of the cakes come with fruit on it. Is it good? Yeah, it’s alright, but I still prefer the western cake a little more.

Well, soon after we polished off our table of food, someone brought the cake out of the refrigerator. In Fuyang, every time you bought a cake, you got a cool ass Lotus candle. (I’ve got a video of the one that was on my cake. I’ll post that soon.) It starts out closed up like a bud. A wick sticks out of the top. You light the wick and when it burns down, it lights all of the other wicks on fire. There are wicks on each of the petals. When all of the wicks catch a flame, It opens up like a flower blooming and sings Happy Birthday to you. It’s absolutely awesome and looks very pretty with all of the lights off. I haven’t seen anything like that here in the States before. Well, the flower bloomed, we sang, and the when started to cut the cake.

There is a tradition in my family, or rather, a cruel joke. Whenever we eat something that is mushy, like cake, ice cream, or mashed potatoes, we like to get a little bit silly. I’m sure everyone reading has probably seen it done. It goes like this. You hold the mushy substance close to your nose, smell it, make a face like it smells like something died, pick a target, and have someone come smell it for you to make sure that it really smells as bad as you say. When they lean in for the sniff you shove said substance up their nose. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

Well, more or less, that is what I told Alan, who had just cut himself a huge piece of cake. For a second he let the words settle in and then without any hesitation, turned and shoved the entire plate into one of his party guest’s face.

I was shocked. Phil was shocked. Everyone, especially the person that just had cake smashed into his face was shocked. And then war broke out.

The boy that had just been creamed, picked up what was remaining of the cake and threw it into Alan’s face. Alan took what was left and threw it at one the girls in attendance. Her silky black hair turned white and she started to scream. She retaliated and threw her piece back – not caring who it hit as long as it hit someone. Cake was flying everywhere. It was madness. All I could do was laugh and watch. I had tears rolling down my face. The apartment had been trashed.

“Oh, his parents are going to kill us, ” was all that I could think.

This must have gone on for several minutes before it finally calmed down. The girls had locked themselves in the bathroom – 1) to protect themselves from further attack and 2) to clean themselves up. They hadn’t looked so hot going in.

I had been smart, and saved my piece of cake. When all was said and done, I ate it.

We made sure to clean up the place a little bit. I really didn’t want his parents coming home to see what the Americans had let unfold in their absence. I’m sure they would never have been able to understand. I made a mental note to never tell a person who didn’t speak English as a first language my family’s little joke ever again. 🙂 I found it funny that he skipped the whole, “Hey, smell my cake,” and just threw it. You really had to be there. It was crazy.

Once we had everything cleaned up, we left the apartment, hopped in a cab, and went to a local KTV to sing for the next several hours. Nothing else crazy happened that evening, besides seeing a woman fall flat on her ass as she walked over a bridge. It was old and slippery – made of marble or something like it. Poor thing broke her tail-bone I think.

And that is the story of the birthday cake. The moral of this story? Be very careful if anyone ever ask you to smell something. 🙂

One day, while I was walking home from Yong Xing Middle School in Fuyang, China, a student(not mine, I don’t think) stroke up a broken English conversation with me. She asked me a few questions about America, how I liked China and if I spoke any Chinese. I had been practicing my Chinese for a while and was pretty sure that I could at least say that I was a teacher in Chinese.

I cleared my throat and said, “Wo shi laoshi.” (I think that is how you spell everything.)

Well, as soon as I had finished, the girl crinkled her nose, looked at me, and said, “You are a mouse?” I busted out laughing. I apparently hadn’t been practicing hard enough. 🙂

“No,” I said, “a teacher.”

“Oh,” she said, “laoshi.” She said laoshi very clear and slow, as though emphasizing the correct way to pronounce it.

Before long, we reached the Hangzhou bus station, and we said our goodbyes. I was surprised to find out that she lived in Hangzhou, and that she took the bus to school everyday. Hangzhou is about an hour away from Fuyang. I guess Yong Xing Middle School is just a really good school. I can’t think of any other logical reason a middle school student would travel that far.

It has been a long time since I have been a teacher in YongXing Middle School in Fuyang, but every once in a while, I will get an email from one of my students. The one below is from Tiffany, a student I’ve mentioned before – here. Anyway, it made me smile, and I thought I would sure it with you all.

Dear Gabe ,

Do you remenber me? I’m your student in YongXing Middle School.I’m now a senior school student .do you know FUYANG MIDDLE SCHOOL?I’m now in this school .It’s been a long time.Now our foreign teacher is a black from the US.I think your class is better than hers.Her accent always remind me of you.I miss you…..

Where are you now?I’m looking forward to hear from you.^^

yours Tiffany

I’ve asked for the new teacher’s email. I would love to chat with her and find out what has been happening in the school since I left and how she has dealt with the students. I heard that the teachers that came right after us didn’t stay very long. I don’t know the reason, but I’m sure it had something to do with the students and their rotten behavior or something that the Director of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Zhou, did to make them mad has hell. Either one is very probable. I know that both of them happened to me.

Well, I’ll be putting up the picture of my office soon, as well

Sorry for the lack of posts lately, but between school, students, and the new Harry Potter book, I just haven’t had any time to post. I would say I would post something later today, but tonight is our scavenger hunt and after that I know I will be too tired to write anything. And I would say I would write something tomorrow, but we have classes as a make up for not having classes on Wednesday because the whole area of Qiao Fu Cheng lost power yet again. So the earliest day for me to sit down are write something meaningful would be on Sunday, my only day of rest before I got back to teaching for the week. No promises, but I will see what I can do. I am just so freaking tired.

School has started back and that means no more vacation.

My first day of school went fairly well. I was really surprised how many students they were able to collect for the summer session. Patty counted 49 heads during our opening ceremony, but that number may grow or fall as the summer progresses. Everyday things change around here. It’s a Chinese way, and I have come to accept it.

This session, I am teaching Advance Let’s Talk(that is the name of the book) and Beginners Interchange(ditto). There are about 15 or so in each class, which is a hell of a lot more than I had last semester. In my beginners class last semester, I had four, and in my advance class I only had 3. I thought last semester was nice, but this so far is even better. I feel even more like a teacher than before. The fact that the students are nice and have come prepared to learn is just a bonus. A teacher can’t really ask for anything more. Well, I wish they would talk more, but that will come in time as they get used to me, their classmates and speaking English on a daily basis.

On the first day of classes, I spent the entire class(50 minutes) introducing myself. That is what I always do when I meet a new bunch of students. It gives them a chance to know who I am and what I am all about instead of just my name and where I am from. Well, after introducing myself to them, I told them that in our next meeting that they would be responsible for introducing themselves to me as well as to their fellow classmates.

I was a little apprehensive. I didn’t think that they would actually go home and plan something to say or that my beginners would be able to string two sentences together, but both of my classes exceeded my expectations.

I was specifically surprised my beginners. Many of them came with little speeches written down and the rest had memorized what they were going to say. For beginners, they did remarkably well. Their English wasn’t perfect, but for their level, they did an awesome job. I had only expected a simple, “Hello, my name is blah blah blah and I am from blah blah blah.” Nearly every student had something interesting to say about themselves – their favorite color, favorite sport, and hobby.

My Advance class did very well, too. Some of them shouldn’t even be there because their English is already that good, but they think they need more practice. I guess practice can’t hurt. They were all very well spoken and told me a lot of their lives and their dreams. I found out that one of the boys in the class is a stamp collector. The only other stamp collector I have met is my mother. A lot of them want to travel the world, one girl wanted to be a romance writer, one boy wants to be a financial advisor, and another girl wants to own her own bar. They all want to be rich, but don’t we all? They are an interesting bunch, that is for sure.

The one thing that I noticed that nearly every student, both from my beginner and advance level, said was this –

“There are three people in my family – my father, my mother and I.”

I know why China brought the One Child Policy into being. I don’t necessarily agree or disagree with it, but I can understand it. Even though I understand it, it still makes me sad that nearly all of my students grew up siblingless. In America, it is quite different. The majority of families have more than one child because they can. The minority of families have only one child because they want to. Here in China, the majority of families only have one child because that is all that they are allowed. Only a few are able to have more – for reasons that are set down in the rules somewhere.

It especially made me sad when one of my students asked me today:

“When you were little, did you fight with your brothers and sisters?”

Oh, yes, did I.

It is a sad that so many people here in China will never get the joy of breaking the heads of their brother’s GI Joe’s . It may not be a critical part of childhood, but it sure is a fun one.

Every so often I get bored and decide to take pictures of myself. I know, I know – how vain of me! Here are the results of my latest session with boredom. They aren’t exciting or anything, but they made me think of the time when I showed this little Chinese kid my eyes in Hangzhou.

Back when we lived in Fuyang, we were invited to go to a food festival by one of Phil’s students. After stuffing ourselves with all sorts a weird, but fantastic food, we were informed that we were going to finish the night by going to a nice restaurant across town. There was no way I was going to be able to eat anything, but Phil and I agreed and promised to eat as much(or as little) as was possible. We thought we were going to be joined by the student’s parents, but neither stayed in the room very long. They were too busy running around the restaurant socializing. They just wanted to give their son ample time to practice his English. In that, they succeeded.

Sometime into the feast(Phil was somehow able to down a rather large portion) another boy entered the room. He was first introduced as the student’s brother, but we later discovered he was just a family friend. I guess he was invited to practice his English with the foreigners. He was shy at first, but before long we had him using what English he knew. We even taught him a few new words and phrases. Somehow or another we got on the conversation of how westerners look different than Chinese.

The boy that had entered the room had never before seen a foreigner’s eyes, so I offered to show him what mine looked like. I stood up and walked to the other side of the table where he was sitting, bent over so that I was at eye level with him, and opened my eyes as wide as I could. It was almost hysterical. The boy jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking it over, as if he had seen a ghost or something. I don’t know exactly what he saw in the depths of my eyes, but he wouldn’t sit back down until I was safely seated in my chair. I couldn’t help but giggle. He acted very similarly when Phil leaned over to show him his blue eyes. I guess he thought all the people in the world had dark eyes up until that moment in time. That would probably freak me out too.

I particularly like how you can see the reflection of the bars of our balcony.

Perhaps this is what the boy saw instead! I’d be pretty freaked out too.