The Internet is still down, and it won’t be another two or so weeks until it is working properly. I can access some American sites, but others are just so flipping slow. So, until the seven boats full of men and woman can get the underwater wires back in order again – this will be the only way to update about our lives her in China. I know that pictures make my stories better, but I do have one story that does not need any photos. Just use a little imagination. Read on.

I have started teaching in a bigger classroom that is equipped with a computer, a screen to project on, and big speakers(even if they don’t work properly). I moved to this classroom because instead of teaching just one class of thirty, I have to teach one class of about sixty.

My former classroom was too small for all of them. Kaliah and Neil used to teach one bunch of thirty, but they left to go back to Australia right before Christmas. And now since there is only one foreign teacher remaining, it is my responsibility to teach them all. I was relieved to find out that I would only have to deal with year 2 students and not year 3 as well. That means only 14 classes, not 28. I also chose this classroom because visuals help. When my students don’t care what I am talking about, they have something at least to look at and keep them entertained.

But anyway, I digress. Let me tell you why I about went commando on my students today.

On Friday, I was teaching(if that’s what it’s called in China) for the first time in several weeks. I had been showing movies because I thought that was probably the best way to deal with sixty devils, but when the school found out – I got yelled at and had to stop. So, the day after I had been scolded, I went back to “teaching”. It only took a few classes to realize why I had decided movies would be best option for my final four weeks. As usual, no one cared what I was saying, no one brought paper or pencil, and they were rowdy as ever. I thought that I could deal with this just for two more weeks, but when a little piece of some strange Chinese food bounced off my jacket and landed on the desk – my sanity broke. Somehow, I convinced myself that the kids were just throwing it at each other and that I somehow ended up in the cross fire and went on about telling them about modern heroes.

After today, I’m pretty confident that it was intentional and that I was always the intended target. I was continuing with my heroes lesson(well, it was really Phil’s and he gave it to me, but who really cares) when at one point I turned my back on the class to hit the next button on my computer(the lesson was a power point presentation). That is when I felt the small object hit my head and bounce onto the desk. I snapped. I turned around and said,”That’s it. Class is over.” The kids had no idea what I had just said because the majority of them are retarded and don’t give a damn about learning English or who teaches it to them. I sat down and started writing a note to the head of the English department, while the students sat there and went on conversing with themselves as if nothing had happened. I tried to figure out who had done it, but no one would confess.

I don’t care if my job is a joke to my school. This is just unacceptable. I should not have to deal with things like this. The sad part is that even though I wrote a note and demanded something be done – nothing will happen. The kids may or may not get a talking to, but they’ll just laugh and go about the rest of their lives being little shits. (Sorry about the foul language in this post – but I am pretty ticked off.)

And that is another wonderful day in the world of Gabe in China. Makes you want to come here doesn’t it?

-G

As much as China can stress me out sometimes, it also makes me laugh really hard. I have two prime examples. One is a little funny and the other just plain freaky.

After a long day of teaching, I went to Phil’s school to wait until English Corner began. English Corner is a time when the serious students can come and talk to us and practice their English. It is a great concept and all, but it just doesn’t work too well. There are a hundred good reasons why it doesn’t, but I’ll get into that another day. After EC was over, Phil and I went outside to talk to Holy about the trip we are going to try to take with him during the Spring festival. Because we won’t be staying in Fuyang for our second semester(long story and I promise I will post about it soon)it is now becoming more difficult to organize our trip. It’s frustrating, but because we promised him, we are going to do everything we can to make it happen. As we were talking this is what happened that made me laugh so hard. Let me preface this by saying that Holy is 17 years old and speaks English very well. The fact that we can talk, understand, and joke with one another in the same language even though he is Chinese and we American shows how good he actually is.

Looking out over the wonderful and very polluted Fuchun River I asked Holy,”Is there anything on the other side of the bridge?” It is the one place we keep saying we are going to go but never make it.

“What do you mean? Something interesting? Something to see?”

“Yeah.”

Holy paused for just a second, and then said. “Maybe in 20 years.”

Now after typing this I can see how you may not be laughing very hard, but at the time, and even after hearing it, I still find it funny. It was probably one of the first jokes that I have heard a Chinese person say that I both understood and found funny at the same time. It totally made my day. I needed a good laugh after dealing with little devils all day.

Now for the freaky creepy moment of the day.

I won’t talk too much about this. I’m a little tired tonight and talking about it still freaks me out. On the way home from Chinese Class, Phil and I ran into a guy that I think lives in the apartment building adjacent to us. Every time he sees me or Phil, he yells ni hao(hello in Chinese) and runs over to us. In the past he has asked me to eat with him and wanted to know who I was waiting on. He’s always come off as a nice young guy, but doesn’t speak any English. I’m sure that I misinterpret a lot of what he says and that is the only reason I haven’t told the head of the school about him yet. Keep reading and you’ll understand why. Phil and I think that he was he either A) asking to pay 100 yuan to sleep with me, 100 yuan to sleep with Phil, or 100 yuan to sleep with us both. We concluded this because he showed us his wallet, did the sleeping motion with his hands, pointed to me, pointed to Phil, and even tapped Phil on the bottom. We were all really confused. We also picked up on something about tomorrow which we could only think meant that the 100 yuan would pay for services rendered until tomorrow. I’ll be avoiding that guy for some time now – at least until I can have some figure out what in the world he was saying and asking us to do.

Ah, you gotta love China. Gotta love the beast.

Phil and I were invited by one of Phil’s students to go to a festival in Hangzhou several weeks ago. Because we had nothing else better to do on a Saturday, we decided to tag along. Before we went, we had no idea what to expect. We didn’t know what kind of festival it was or what it was celebrating. It could have been a “Slaughter an American Foreign Teacher Festival” for all we knew. And it almost was that for a split second, but thankfully we were able to avoid death in China for at least one more day. As you can see, it was a food festival that we were invited to enjoy. And here you can see Phil doing what he does best – stuffing his face full of meat from an unknown animal. Whatever it was it was good, but I think that I would rather not know what it is that I swallowed. If you can imagine an animal, I saw a picture of it and its meat crammed onto a stick much like the one in the picture with Phil.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, those weird things in the picture to your left are starfish, scorpions, roaches, and my very favorite – tarantulas. I’ll get to that later.

We were picked up by Paul’s father and his supposed Uncle, who I think was actually his “driver”. He actually almost called him that, but caught himself. I’m pretty sure that his family has money and that they could afford one. The car was fancy and black with dark tinted windows and nice comfortable leather seats. It was the first car that wasn’t a taxi that we had been in since someone from Babel Language Center took us to Fuyang. Paul’s father, who spoke no English at all, had booked a hotel room for us for the night in Hangzhou. It was really nice gesture and we would have liked to have stayed, but we had to be back in Fuyang on Sunday morning in order to have lunch with another one of Phil’s students and his parents. Can’t you tell Phil is popular among his students? None of my students would ever invite me anywhere unless someone was threatening their lives or something. Maybe they are starting to like me a little though. I had two students ask for my autograph. Heh, I must be famous.

But anyway . . . They drove us the long way to Hangzhou. Not that I minded. We got to see some spectacular views of West Lake at sunset. I would have paid money to have stopped the car at one point to get a picture of It. We even saw some people in their wedding attire taking pictures. They will probably be the most beautiful pictures they’ll ever take together. If you could have seen it – you would have said the same. We finally, after about an hour and a half scenic tour of Hangzhou, arrived at the festival.

It was several degrees cooler than it was when we left Fuyang, but the hoards of people and all of the food stands letting steam roll over the crowd was about to become our personal heater. We didn’t really know where to start. Paul had money in hand(somehow we got away without spending a dime the entire time) and asked what we wanted. We pointed to a random stand with some kind of meat on a stick and said we would give that one a go.

And that is when I heard the bottle break. I looked up and there was this Chinese guy shaking the biggest shattered beer bottle I’ve ever seen at this Chinese cook. The freaky thing about the fight is that it was happening not ten feet from me. In disbelief, I got Phil’s attention and made him look. And that it when the bottle got thrown. How the guy who was throwing the bottle missed his intended target, I don’t know, but it whizzed over the top of the other guys head. The fight unfolded quiet quickly. Before long, pots and pans were being hurled at the poor Chinese cook. He looked so dumbfounded – like he didn’t know why they were so angry at him. Then there were more bottles thrown and one actually smashed into the cook’s temple. Blood started to pour down his face. More things were being thrown. Lights above the stand were being smashed. A group of interested people began to gather. All the while Phil, Paul, and I were just standing there wide eyed. We finally snapped out of our amazement and began to walk away from the fray. A random girl jumped into the big mess and tried to break up the fight, but that didn’t really work. There were some more bottles thrown, a lot more screams, the rest of the lights broken, and then the fight dismissed. The ones that started the fight ran off and in just a few minutes all was almost back to normal except for the poor cook whose head was streaming with blood. Needless to say, we didn’t eat at that stand.

The three of us walked around for about an hour. Paul kept asking what we wanted to try and kept buying more than we could eat even though it was all pretty tasty. There was so much food we didn’t try. It was like one big fair in America – except that the food section of it never seemed to end. I took the picture of the guy to above because apparently his job for the evening was to dance with the sign and advertise one of the stands. He was making some weird faces and dancing pretty wild, so I had to get a picture of it. You really had to be there to appreciate him fully.

After we finished stuffing our faces Paul told us that we would be going across town to a restaurant to have dinner. I don’t know why we went to a food festival to eat just so we could go out to dinner, but that is the Chinese way, I guess. The place we went to was nice. We were lead to our own private room – as is normal for people who travel in large groups. I can’t even remember what kind of food they brought out. I just know that it never seemed to end. A lot of it was too Chinese for me to eat – ie the crab in this picture. They don’t eat the legs, but they do eat what ever is inside his body, and whatever that orange and yellow stuff was – I don’t know and don’t care to learn. The little I tasted didn’t taste very good. It tasted a lot like many dishes I have eaten and describe simply as the “Taste of China”. If you are living in or have been to China, I am sure that you can relate to that comment. They wanted to keep feeding us long after the fact that we were full. Paul’s father kept toasting Phil(ganbei) which involves downing your entire glass of beer or wine or whatever else it is you are drinking. I thought that Phil was going to get himself drunk, but the ganebeis finally stopped and he was able to get a hold of his head.

After dinner, Paul had his driver, I mean, Uncle drive us to his house. What a nice place he had. He gave us a tour of his two story penthouse like apartment that consisted of three bedrooms and three baths. His kitchen even had a oven. I would do anything to have an oven. And, you should have seen the walk in closet this boy had. I know some women who would be supremely jealous of him- ie – ME! After I nearly killed myself falling down his stairs, it was time to go home. His driver, I mean, Uncle . . . heh – drove us all the way back to Hangzhou so that we would be able to have lunch with Holy’s parents. It was of the most interesting Saturdays that we have had since we got to China. I hope that I have many more just like this – minus the brutal fight that is.

If I could read this sign, I’d have no problem at all getting around Fuyang on a beggar’s income. It only costs 1 yuan to ride the bus here. That is about 12 cents if you are trying to do the math. Since I don’t understand a lick of written Chinese, I have to jump on a bus and hope that the woman who takes my money can understand enough of my broken Chinese to let me know when I’ve reached my stop. If she doesn’t understand me and no one else happens to be getting on or off when I need to, the bus will just keep on going. I then have to get on another bus to take me back the way I’d come. And that is the very reason I’ve become comfortable riding only 3 of the 9 bus routes in Fuyang. (Huge city, I know . . . hehe.) Every morning I take the number one bus to the other side of town and then get on the number 8 bus that drops me off right in front of school. The bus isn’t very clean and it can be cramped, but it beats paying 7-10 Yuan for a taxi twice a day.

Here is a picture of me trying to teach my students the beautiful sport of baseball. It didn’t go over too well like most of what I teach them. The only thing I think they understood was bat, ball, and run and even those three words vanished from their memory banks once they walked out of my room.  Everything else went in one ear and out the other. So, it made it really difficult to play baseball with them the following week. The one thing they did like was me singing “Take Me Out To The Ball Game.” I never thought I’d sing in front of more than just my shower curtain, but I think it may be the only real way to reach them. Guess I better start voice lessons. Doe a dear . . .

Every fall, the schools in Fuyang have a Sport’s Meeting. That means that the students get a few days off to compete in something that resembles the Olympics on a much smaller scale. Some of the students take it quiet seriously. And some of them are pretty darn good. Ask Phil and he’ll tell you all about it. Heh. But anyways, if you enlarge the picture to the left you’ll find some interesting errors. The first being that Atlanta is the capital of George and that it’s also known as “The City of Tress.” They tried to describe Izzy, the Olympic mascot, but messed up in that department as well. Take a look and you might laugh as hard as I did. Sometimes I worry about the students and who in the world is teaching them English. Their Chinese teacher’s only know so much and some of what they do know is wrong. And so the cycle keeps repeating itself. Foreign teachers are the only real cure. And look who they sent – me. God help them. God help them all.

My school had an English Competition on my birthday and they asked me to be one of the judges. There were about 25 students in it from grades 2 and 3. If they were in middle school back home they would probably be in 7th and 8th grade. A few days before the competition, I had some students read their speeches out to me. They wanted help and advice and I gave them what I could without rewriting their entire speech. There were more errors than there are thorns on a rose bush. And I’m not kidding. The sad part is that a lot of the errors were advice that the their Chinese English teachers gave them. That is the evil cycle I am talking about.

I took a picture of this girl as she preformed her speech. I don’t know who she is. She may be one of my students, but I can’t keep track of them. If you had 700 students, you wouldn’t be able to either! I think I can pick out maybe 4 or 5 students that I know are mine if I see them walking around. The cool thing is that every single one of the students memorized their speech. They didn’t have a single card with them. And some of their speeches were pretty long. A couple had some problems, but for the most part they all did pretty well. One of my students, Grey, got first place, but so did about 5 others. Guess they tied or something. I marked all the students a lot lower than the Chinese teachers did, but that’s because I actually knew what the mistakes were. Alright, gotta go. Have to see what kind of trouble I can get myself into. Fuyang and all of it’s glory awaits!

Sorry for the delay. I know that I suck as a Blogger, but I’ve been sorta busy and tired. Teaching does that to you. I technically work less than four hours a day, but I sit in my office staring at my Dell computer screen when I’m not standing in front of 30 devils and screaming at them. I only have 4 classes a day, but I still have to be at school from about 8 to 5 because of the way my schedule is set up. Next term I am going to ask for later classes so that I don’t have to wait around all day for my next class to start. The following pictures are of things my students have done over the last few weeks. Some are cute, others strange, one is just mean, and well, the last one is just plain nasty. Enjoy.

The first picture is of a gift from one of my best students. Her English name is Tiffany, and I wish that all of my students could be just like her. I was teaching about Halloween and threw in the fact that November 2nd was my birthday. As soon as she heard those words come out of my mouth, she ripped out a piece of paper from her notebook and started to make me a card in class. This of course kept her from writing down any of the new vocabulary words that I was teaching, but that’s okay. I can forgive a Teacher’s Pet any day of the week. Hehe. : ) I think if she had known about my birthday earlier she would have bought me one, but I think I like this one better. It’s much more creative than one she could have purchased in a store. The little stickers are so cute. I might just have to have it framed. It is one of the nicest things a student has done for me.

When I was rearranging my desks for what seemed like the 1,000th time(the student’s love to wreck my room and they don’t ever fix it), I saw this phrase on one of them. The first thing that I thought of was Conan the Barbarian and then pictured him playing really great tennis, but then I knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. Turns out, my student was just insanely bored and was doodling about two cartoon character’s named Detective Conan and another who happens to be the Prince of Tennis. I found this out only after Phil had over 3 of his students for dinner. That’s another story all together.

I don’t play many games with my student’s, mainly because I don’t think they deserve them and also because they can never stay quiet enough, but occasionally I will try to make them happy and play a game of Hangman. This is how I try to teach them new words. Well, I had been playing Hangman for a few weeks and then stopped because I figured it was just not working the way I wanted. Boys just want to hang the man and the girls can never guess the word before the boys have hung the man. So when I stopped, there was one class that made it very obvious that they still wanted to play. They gave me the piece of paper during class one day. It says:  Y O U with the hanged man to the right of it and then AGAIN. It means You Play Hangman Again. I humored them on that day, but not since. I’m such a rotten teacher. Hehe.

This one actually made me mad – for two reasons . . . 1) they think I’m boring(only because I don’t play games and music all day) and 2) they can’t even spell their insults right.

What my students don’t know is that when I get angry it only makes their lives more of a living hell. They should really learn to keep their evil thoughts to themselves.

Soon my students will understand the definition of god by the word Gabe. Mu ah ha ha!!

This is the kicker, the icing on the cake, if you will. For those of you who don’t believe me when I say that my room is a freaking pigsty, I now provide you with the proof! I think that I am really in charge of 700 rotten little pigs. I don’t know where this trash comes from. I never see them eating, but without fail there is litter all over the classroom floor at the end of each day. It doesn’t matter if I sweep it, the trash just reappears. Oh, and this is just one corner of my room. There is another pile just like it on the other side.

I will post pictures of our trip to the Zoo soon. And I still have many other pictures I need to post as well. I’ll try to be a better blogger. Promise.

I did a search for a Halloween cat in Yahoo and this is one of the pictures that turned up. I thought it was pretty cute. It’s great when people manipulate animals and make them do outrageous things like this.(Horray Photoshop) For some reason, it totally brightens my day.

Well, if you didn’t know, Halloween doesn’t exist here in China. Sad face. I am slowly trying to bring it over though. This week I am teaching my little devils about Halloween and the whole art of Trick or Treating. Like normal, some think that it is cool, and the rest of the 700 brats think it is boring, stupid and as uninteresting as me. I actually had a student tell me to my face that he didn’t think I was interesting. How wonderful is it to hear that?

For the good students, I bought some Milk Candy. It’s pretty cheap and good if I must say so myself. I find myself sticking my hand in the bag to nick a piece a bit to often. It’s all going to my hips. I can feel it.

The fun part about teaching Halloween is that I get to scare the living heebie jeebies out of my students and feel justified doing it. When I tell them about haunted houses, I tell them that they are scary and then pick a random bored student who looks like he or she is sleeping and then scream SCARY in the ear while slamming my hands on their desk. Even the boys look like they are about to faint sometimes. The girls look like they might cry. And that really, really, makes my day a good day. I’m evil. I know. But you’d be evil too if you had to put up with their crap.

I do have a few good students, but not enough. I actually had a few of them call me Miss Cook last week and today one called me by my Chinese name – Zi Wei. I rarely hear Gabe. Mostly it is just Teacher! Teacher! I should start screaming Student! Student! and see how they like it.

But anyway, Happy Halloween. Hope some of you got my share of candy because I will be waiting patiently to get it when I finally come home in about 8 or so months – if China will let me leave that is . . .

Oh, and will someone eat a piece of Pumpkin Pie for me. I have been thinking about it all week. Nangua is Chinese for pumpkin, by-the-way. Some of Phil students gave him one. He needs to carve it soon before it starts to rot and we have to throw it out. Anyone have a funny suggestion on what to carve into it?

Post you ideas in the comment section, and if Phil likes your suggestion – I will post a picture of it after he is done.

There has to be as many stray cats in China as there are dogs, if not more, but that’s okay because I love cats. China could not possibly have enough for me to love. And I would love them all if they would let me.

If you walk down any street, you’ll see them. They’ll be in the windows, laying in the shops, lounging on the stairs, or running for their lives down the street and into an alley way. I just pray that they are not a main course on anyone’s plate in any of the restaurants, especially mine. I could probably live knowing I just ate Fido because a small part of my soul will always hate dogs after working at Bermex, but I don’t think I would ever forgive myself if I ate a four legged creature that could purr.

For the most part, they are terrified of everyone or maybe it’s just me. Maybe the whole white aspect of my being is just too much for them to take. Some times I meow at them and they meow back and look a little curious, but for the most part I can’t get close enough to pet a hair on their head. If they see me coming they bolt the other way. One second they’re there and the next they’re gone. It is really quiet depressing. Now that I think of it, maybe they run because they think that I am going to eat them . . . I mean, I am in China where they eat EVERYTHING. And I mean everything.

The first photo is of Meow Meow, a kitty we found at the hostel we stayed at in Shanghai. It was where he had decided to live when he was just a wee little kitten(he’s still small enough to be considered a kitten) and the owners of the place let him stay. He was a very cute little kitty, as well as curious and a trouble maker to boot! During the days that Phil was too sick to do anything, I would go down to the lobby and pet him. He always thought I wanted to play and he would try to bite and scratch me in the playful kitten way of course. When I showed him Gloria, our cricket, he tried to eat her, but he couldn’t get her through the cage. I’m surprised that Gloria didn’t kill over in shock.

The last day we were there Phil went and got us our last McDonald’s meal that we will have for awhile and brought it back to the hostel. We ate it in the lobby since we couldn’t go back to our room anymore. We had checked out, but our train didn’t leave for another two hours. Meow Meow could smell our food and tired so hard to get to it. I gave him a little taste of a fry. What a mistake that was. He wanted more. He started the “I’m a poor defenseless starving kitty” act and had a perfect meow to go with it. He got a few more pieces out of me. I’m weak, what can I say. When we threw our left overs away, he went and sat next to the trash can and got popped by the owner each time he tried to carry any of it out. I felt so bad for the little guy.

This is a photo of one of the random cats we saw while in Shanghai. I took the picture because he looked so cute sleeping in the window. It was the way he had his tail dangling that won me over. Although, cats look cute no matter what they are doing. Heh. If you can’t tell, the shop was for door handles. I tapped on the glass to try to get his attention, but he was sacked out. His ears didn’t even flinch when I hit the glass.

Seeing all these cats made me miss my poor kitty, Morgan. I will be looking forward to seeing her when I go back home. I know that she won’t run from when she sees me. At least she better not or I will cook her up Chinese style!!

One more cat story and then I;ll bring this post to a close.

Last week, I went and sat in on one of Phil’s classes because I had nothing else better to do. And I didn’t feel like hiking up those six flights of stairs just to come back down them an hour later to eat dinner. He was still telling them about our trip to Shanghai instead of doing a lesson he should have (bad Phil) but the kids enjoyed it more so that makes it okay. He showed them some of the pictures we took and the kids ewwed and awwed. Very typical. They eww and aww over just about anything. When Phil got to a picture of me and Meow Meow he pointed at me and said, “Ta ai mao.” It means, she loves cats. Forgive me if I spelled cat wrong in Chinese. The kids though that was pretty cool and class continued fairly normal for the next few minutes until the back of the class erupted in shrieks and yells.

I had no idea what was going on. All the girls were making a fuss and everyone was jumping out of there seats and standing on them. I thought maybe a mouse, a rat, or a big bug had run into the room. But I was wrong. Before I tell you what they were screaming over, although, I am sure you know, Phil’s class room was on the second floor and a little ways away from town. It ended up being a cat. Yes, a cat. (I am convinced that I willed it into existence.) Someone yelled that it was a cat, but I didn’t believe it until someone actually picked it up and held it out to me. The cat was not happy at all. He was meowing like Morgan does right before she rips me to shreds. I grabbed the cat and tried to get him out of the classroom as quick as I could, but I found that difficult because all of the kids were more or less surrounding me and the stressed to all hell kitty was trying to wiggle out of my arms. I got him out of the classroom though and then found myself asking what in the world to do with him. I didn’t just want to let him run loose. He was in the middle of school campus and anything might happen to him. And that is when it hit me. This cat looked familiar. I even recognized his meow, which was really deep and coarse. Some of the kids insisted that he was theirs, but I knew they were lying. I asked them what his name was and they had to think about it and then picked a random one off the top of their heads.

The cat ended up being from one of the noodle shops at the bottom of the hill the leads to the school. I had seen him there on a few mornings and had petted him once or twice before getting on the bus to go to my school. I don’t know how he got to Phil’s school or what he was doing on the second floor, but I decided that it would be best if I walked him back home. I tried to carry him, but he didn’t like that and growled something awful. I must say that he didn’t bite or scratch me at all during his awful endeavor. At one point, I put him down and he started meowing at me and purring. I walked a way from him a little and he started following me. Believe it or not, the cat followed me almost all the way back to his noodle shop and the only reason he didn’t is because I picked him up. I thought there was too much traffic and he might run off if cab or something honked at him.

Once I got to the noodle shop, I put him back down and he seemed to know where he was. He plopped down on the stairs and started taking a nap. I went in and tried asking someone if he belonged to them, but of course, no one spoke a lick of English. I was about to give up and let the poor kitty fend for himself when a woman that could speak English showed up. I told her where I found the cat and that I knew it belonged here because I had seen it a few times. She asked a few of the workers if they knew who it belonged to, but they didn’t know. She said she was sorry and that she thought it was a stray, but then a guy walked out and started talking to the lady. She told me that he knew it belonged to the owners of the shop but they weren’t there or something like that. The lady said that it was a very nice thing that I did. I said no problem, and went on back to school so I could have my wonderful canteen dinner.

It wasn’t until later that I feared that maybe the cat became someone’s dinner at the noodle shop. I surely hope it didn’t or else I would feel really bad. I walk by the shop every morning hoping to see the cat again, but I still haven’t and it has been a few days. Of course, I didn’t see him that often there to begin with. Maybe he ran away again or the owners of the shop took him home. That’s what I hope anyway. That would make me happy.

I had hoped that a week long vacation would have some how cured my little devils of their rotten behavior. After my first class this morning, I realized that a 10 month vacation couldn’t have helped these children. No matter how much things change, some things always remain the same I guess. My kids are and will always be …

LITTLE DEVILS

To give you a taste of their devil behavior, I will tell you a little story. I met with two teachers today that had previously taught at Yong Xing Middle School. I am still trying to figure out why they came back for a visit. Apparently, they had a good experience which baffles me more than the fact that they came back to say hi to the staff. But anyway, what one of the teachers told me was this – One day while teaching, he thought he smelled some smoke. At first, he didn’t think anything of it, but soon it was more than obvious that the smoke was indeed coming from his classroom. A student had found some random matches in the room and thought it would be fun to light a fire, so he did. The guy said the trouble maker had the biggest smile on his face when he approached him. He picked the kid up and moved him away from the fire and then beat the fire out. I think these kids need a taste of Battle Royal. That should cure them. Or make them worse. I don’t know which.

The kids were so bad today for a fellow teacher of mine that she just walked out when she couldn’t get them to behave, listen, or remain quiet. I am pretty sure that those students are going to get chewed out for their behavior. And because she walked out, I am sure that the Chinese teachers are now starting to see the wretchedness of their students. I had Bella, the teacher in charge of helping us out, asking me which classes were the worst and I had a hard time picking just a few. The truth is that they are all about the same. Each class usually has one or two students that care and maybe one student that is way smarter than his classmates, but the others are just horrible, rotten, little devils. Maybe by the time I leave they will all be wearing halos and white robes. One can only hope. Heh.

On every floor of my school there is an area where you can find a chalk board. The students love to write messages and draw pictures on them. I never know what they are writing for the obvious fact that it is in Chinese, but I imagine it is like a bulletin of sorts. The things that they write or draw have purpose and order – it isn’t chaotic or anything. They would appear to have themes.

The thing I like to look at most is the art work the students do. The first picture that I have posted is of a cartoon character that we call Naruto back home. He seems to be pretty popular here. The cool thing about their art work is that they don’t just draw the picture – the push the chalk into the board until it forms a raised bump and then a lot of little bumps form a section and the sections become a picture. It is hard to just wipe off. You have to scrape it pretty hard.

To give you an idea of what the pushed chalk looks like, I took a close up of another drawing some of the kids did. I will show the big picture and then the close up version. I can’t figure out what it is. It almost looks like a stop light, but I haven’t ever seen one quite like it. Maybe some of you will know.

Exhibit A – Weird Stop Light Thingy

See what I mean about not knowing exactly what it is. It sorta looks like a traffic light, but I’m not exactly sure.

Exhibit B – Close up of Weird Stop Light Thingy

Sorta looks like ground meat got slapped on the board. Interesting.

Exhibit C – The Writing on The Wall

God only knows what it means.

My lovely classroom.

This is where I teach all my precious little devils how to speak and understand English. The room in the picutre is neat only because I had just straighted it back up. I try very hard to keep the desk in pairs. I like to walk around the classroom and it helps keep them from talking more than they already do. Besides the chalk board that is behind me – there is nothing in the room but the student’s desks and chairs. It is a rather dirty, dull room. At least I have a “view” being on the 5th floor.

This is the view from my classroom window. That massive building you see on the other side of the track is the Primary School. It is about 7 floors and they have an elevator. Lucky bastards.

I like to watch all the little kids running around outside. They look like little ants and have so much energy. I don’t know how I would handle teaching them. Although my kids are devils, I think I have the easiest platform. Note the blue sky. Blue skies here are rare.

This is the courtyard or the center of the school. The picture only shows half of it, but the other side is identical. One day I saw a kid get pushed into the bushes. The bushes swallowed him and I laughed. The kids here are either A) very affectionate or B) ultra-violent. There is no in-between.

I got bored going home one day and decided to take a picture of myself in the stairwell. I thought I was the only one there, but as I went to go snap the picture – the kid took off running down the hall. It is a weird picture, but I thought it was sorta cool.

Ah. Look at them. Preparing for battle . . . Heh, that would be funny if they were, but no such luck. Every morning the kids have to participate in excerises. It is a pretty long routine, but they remember every little movement they have to do. They don’t like it at all and it is all done half-heartidly. The sad part is that my camera could only capture half of the student body. The population of the school could easily beat that of any school back in the States. It is amazing how many people there are here.