China Study: Case File SZ017 ("Colleagues")

Why won't you love me?

To many of you, the ensuing discussions of the hardships at my school will read as repetition for what I have already communicated. Still, I think certain clarifications and elaborations are necessary to explain why I struggle (on a near daily basis) to get out of bed and go to work. I hope to communicate my struggles in such a way as to appropriately reflect upon how challenging they are without sounding depressed or hopeless. I do enjoy aspects of my job, and I am thrilled with my life in China--when viewed on the whole.

First though not foremost in my school struggles, I need to debunk any notion that I have a shred of support from my colleagues.

My program ensured that there would be a provision of our  contract that guaranteed a "contact teacher" to act as a liaison between the English teachers and their respective schools (administrations, faculties, students, and communities). Prior to even being assigned schools, I learned that relationships between my program's past teachers and their "contact teachers" varied from close friendships to mutual abandonment as the "contact teacher" goes M.I.A. A.S.A.P. Somewhere in between lays my relationship with my contact teacher, "Chuckles."

"Chuckles" has been present, but he has always seemed reluctantly so. Anytime I have needed clarification or assistance, "Chuckles" has not hesitated to lend a hand--or, at the very least, has claimed to try to help; he has also not hesitated to make abundantly clear how obnoxious and burdensome of a task it is to help the confused foreign teacher (waijiao) complete a task befitting a simpleton.

He's stiff. I have always thought he was a "tough cookie" and that he was just not a very outgoing or sociable person.

One time, we were breaking-down his gruff exterior when we began to discuss a mutual appreciation for reading and writing poetry. He shared his favorite poem with me. I cannot divine the meaning of the title (xiang1 chou2) because it could be about "viewing farmland in a different light" or "hating a different perspective"--amongst several other meanings I have derived from my pocket Oxford dictionary. Regardless, he copied the poem for me, translated the poem for me, and helped me learn how to recite the first line--one about longing for the mists of one's hometown. But "Chuckles" was once again curt and terse when I brought him one of my favorite poems (Langston Hughes' Theme for English B) just 24 hours later.

I have recently begun to view "Chuckles's" gruff sentiment as less a reflection of him being unsociable and more a symptom of his frustration with occupational dissatisfaction and additional responsibility. He is not offered an increased wage for helping me navigate the oft confusing Chinese customs or the labyrinthine bureaucracy in China. Unfortunately, I think "Chuckles's" occupational frustrations have manifested themselves through how he begrudges me. I am near certain that he is not fond of this Onion.

Example: The English department had decided to have a bonding night. The department chose a night of drinks and karaoke. This decision was made on a Monday for the bonding session to be held on that week's Friday. "Chuckles" did not tell me until five minutes before I was leaving school on that Friday; I was leaving school to attend my Chinese class, and I was leaving school with the intent of meeting some friends for a planned outing to see the new Harry Potter movie. It would be literally impossible for me to return from Chinese class in time for the English department bonding session ("Chuckles" knew as much), and I had already begun looking forward to Western hang-out time to justify over-spending on the movie ticket--which, in retrospect, was not over-priced since I completely enjoyed the friends and the movie. I could have canceled my plans to attend the department bonding session, but "Chuckles's" attitude seemed to tell me that I my attendance was not necessarily wanted.

Essentially, amongst my roommates and myself, "Chuckles" is not regarded as a dependable resource for helping explain or solve problems (e.g. why it smelled like our gas was leaking, or why it took one month to get a locksmith to open our back gate, or why we have to lock an empty bedroom). Because I have other resources in asking for assistance and clarifications, I have moved-on from my disappointments over "Chuckles." However, his unreliability and unhelpful attitude has come to play a significant role in my work atmosphere where issues are far greater than choosing between Harry Potter and karaoke. His advertised unavailability is particularly aggravating since we share an office. With four other teachers.

Luckily, the other teachers in our office are as friendly as can be.

This is not to say that they help construct pleasure in my workplace. I often hear them talking about me as they toss around terms like "waijiao," "ali" (my Chinese name), "laowai" (a supposedly endearing term for foreigners), etc. I have stopped caring about trying to decipher what their saying or determining whether it is good or bad. But as I reflect on this daily banter, I realize how upsetting it is to be discussed while sitting in the same room and not being able to understand what's being said. It's a redundancy of a childhood's painful moments featuring undermining adults. (On a lighter note, I can sometimes jump in on conversation now; though my Chinese is getting better, I am not quite at the level of awesomeness at which I could understand what they say about me behind my back--they literally sit behind me--and then tell them as much or that I am uncomfortable.)

Sometimes, the other English teachers admire my ideas for discipline (discipline sans beatings, a topic I will address in detail later) or rewards. Still, I detect a hint of condescension as if they were saying: "You are naive for believing that this will actually work." They do not foster an environment in which I feel comfortable asking for assistance or advice.

But I do ask for assistance and advice regularly in spite of how my colleagues inevitably make me feel juvenile. I hope that this action conveys my respect for them as well as demonstrates a certain self-awareness of my own professional (and personal) shortcomings--thus making me more relatable and appealing as a fellow human being with foibles. The gesture mostly goes unnoticed, the assistance is generally half-hearted or incomplete if offered at all, and the advice mostly conflicts with my sense of appropriate behavior. (e.g. My coworkers think I should bring students to them for "proper" punishments--read "proper" as "physical" or "abusive.")

The colleague who reached out to me most, who was beloved by her students, and who seemed genuinely passionate about education went on pregnant leave two months ago. She made a cameo in our office last week, but she will not return permanently for another two weeks. I miss her: "Jewel." Though she lost a few points by recommending a hideously boring saga of literature to me, I have not held it against her as the saga is considered a "classic." Just not classic for me.

Beyond those people, no one at my school speaks English. I would need to enlist the help of those people to consult any other faculty member. In enlisting said help, the liaison would feel disrespected because I did not consult them--or because I had already consulted them and had disregarded their words (as I wished I had when I asked a colleague's opinion on what I could do to confront a flagrant instance of domestic abuse victimizing one of my students).

If you have any suggestions, I would be enthusiastic to hear them. In ensuing blog posts, I will refer to other professional challenges; I would be thrilled to find and/or create an ally at my school as an initial step in facing the other challenges.

Reads, Sights, Sounds: This (especially this piece). Mad Men, Glee, 30 Rock.  "Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows (Pt. 1)" and "The Social Network." The Roots' Illadelph Halflife and Tony Allen.