China Study: Case File SZ018 ("Students and Discipline")

This post is to be read as a continuation of my last post.
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Each of my twelve different classes has 50 students. I teach only three of the six grades at my school. I am teaching at only one of at least five primary schools (1st-6th grade) in my village of Yantian district. There are several other villages in the district, and there are several districts in the city. The point? There are lots of kids in China.

Of course, this means that funding beneficial education for all those students can be a bit of a headache. One way that China helps this economic quandary is to not make high school mandatory. High schools recruit students, and every prospective high school student needs to pass an absurd amount of tests to have their applications considered. This is high school. Not university.

Ubiquitous Chinese Picture Pose

The sad side of this solution is that the majority of Chinese children are essentially channeled straight into factories. There is not much they can do as one fish swimming in a school headed straight for the net. In many ways, the Chinese economy (and society) depends on this channeling of humanity. A good friend acknowledged how easily the tragedy of one doomed life (inevitably headed to an impoverished life of labor and pain) can be lost in the grand scope of the entire Chinese population.

Especially in regards to humanitarian pursuits (e.g. becoming a teacher), Western thinking precludes loosing sight of of an individual's tragedy. And so I cannot lose sight of how this tragedy reiterates itself hundreds of times in my students.

There are many comparable circumstances around the globe. I spent much time at The University of Michigan learning about and advocating against the prison industrial complex that leeches out many forgotten and derelict youth--a brief plug for a friend and esteemed professor's book.

Some may argue that these youth (American or Chinese) are just lucky to get any education as compared with the millions deprived as much around the world. To me, this justification is cruel, dismissive, and offensively illogical. Apples and oranges.

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."

The Loss of a Great Friend

I do not know if I believe in soul-mates.

I do know that I had found a kindred spirit, a best friend, and a trusted companion. It is so rare to find this--especially in an inanimate object.

Not two-weeks-ago, I realized that my blue zip-up hoodie had gone missing. Only yesterday, I gave-up hope of finding it.

It is with great sadness that I issue this eulogizing blog post. Though I only knew that hoodie for four years (four damn good years), I was familiar with each frayed edge and the origins of each stain. After just four years, I would grossly exagerate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 365 days during that time, I would more accurately estimate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 100 days (time worn, not days donned and then removed) during that time, and I would definitely know that I could count the times I washed "The Blue Hoodie" on my fingers.

I saw it morph from accessory to pajamas to all-purpose-utility-article. It saw me graduate university. We saw at least 23 countries and 19 states together.

Many came to know me and "The Blue Hoodie" as extensions of one-another. I have heard from several close friends (people, not inanimate objects) that when they thought of me, they thought of me wearing torn jeans, a solid-colored shirt, and "The Blue Hoodie."

So, I will not go on much longer. The sadness of the loss weighs heavily. The following is a montage of moments "The Blue Hoodie" and I shared over the past four years--from a rare snowy day in Jerusalem to its mysterious disappearance in Shenzhen and all that lay between. Cue "Dust in The Wind." You're my boy Blue!

Day 1: A Fox sweatshirt and an Onion fall in love while it snows in Jerusalem

Overwhelmed in Camden Market of London

Shick-shick-Shenma? (Whick-whick-What?)

I love communication. It's one of my passions. So, learning Chinese is an absolute blast for me. Here I am gaining the knowledge of how to communicate with 1/5th of the world. More, probably. With my Spanish abilities (and my barely remembered Hebrew skills?), I may soon be able to have a casual conversation (if not a more intense one) with half (if not more) of the world. I am as happy as a little girl!

Speaking in Chinese is difficult. I am not the first to say as much, but I will elaborate on the difficulties I perceive. N.B. I have observed Chinese people even have issues communicating with one another.

Take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.