Entering my second semester of teaching ESL in southern China, I’ve been rejuvenated by a weeklong trip to Hong Kong over winter break and put in high spirits thanks to the early arrival of spring. Life these past few months without heating proved to be nothing short of brutal. Nowadays, rapeseed blooms in the fields across the river, painting the land in patches of yellow, and the scent of impending rain suffuses the evening air. Once again, I’m reminded of my love for this town.
My decision to move to China was motivated primarily by reasons other than teaching. This job is simply a means to achieving more personal ends. But I have come to enjoy the work more than expected, despite the school’s rather flippant disposition toward the legitimacy of my classes. Last term, I devoted nearly two and a half weeks to administering individual oral exams to all one-thousand of my students, only to discover recently that these grades which had been required of me were never reported by the office. Out here in the countryside, foreign teachers are still more status symbols than anything else. It can be a frustrating environment in which to work.
While the first few rows of every class are brimming with model students, I’ve started to suspect that the only reason the administration seats them this way is to charm their instructors through flattery; they listen, participate and always follow directions. Moving further down the aisle, however, is like suddenly finding yourself in the wrong end of town. Students sprawl comatose across their desks, unabashedly inattentive. Others huddle around MP4 players watching movies with their ears stopped up. Several times I’ve had to put out a cigarette. One boy even vomited ten minutes into my class last week because, as his deskmate later informed me, he’d had too much to drink. My kids are fifteen, sixteen at most.
As I was patrolling these academic hinterlands one day, I came across a boy in the back row staring crossly between his knees. As if there lay the answer to the question I had asked. From the blackboard I had been unable to see him slouched low behind his books, one of many enormous stacks which clutter almost every desktop. I asked him if he understood the directions but this elicited no response, not even the slightest hint of regard. I began reiterating the lesson for him in Chinese when he suddenly jerked to life and snapped that he couldn’t speak English. He had no intent to learn. Well, I sighed. All I’m asking is you try. I attempted to explain the importance of speaking a second language in this increasingly global world, but he only turned away, mumbling in that petulant tone the Chinese can take that perhaps this was the case for some but certainly not for him. What could I do? Our school preaches a philosophy of focused efficiency: work with the good students, don’t even bother with the bad ones. The other foreigners and I have been scolded several times before for banishing miscreants from class and pushing our own expectations. The Chinese teachers simply see it as a waste of time.
So I went on with my lesson, leaving this reprobate to sulk on his own. But I was truly affected by what he had said. Most troubling of all was that his argument was sound. China’s rapid development over the past several decades has yet to reach the rural towns of the interior. Only about 20% of my students will continue on to college. The rest will most likely stay behind in this selfsame town to work as laborers, merchants or farmers, never again to encounter a foreigner. As much as I hated to admit it, he was probably right. Who was I to tell him that he had to learn English?
I spent several days wrestling with these thoughts, trying to justify my presence as a volunteer. I ran into the boy at the end of the week on his way home for lunch and fell in beside him as he walked down the alameda, past basketball courts already teeming with students not yet two minutes out from class and a dumpster where garbage burned and workers were constructing a low fieldstone wall, as if to hide the pollution were to deny it of existence. Alone, this boy had nothing to prove. We chatted politely while strolling beneath the poplars, discussing China, America and the Economic Crisis. Upon reaching the gate, he praised my Chinese, and as far as I could tell, he was genuinely impressed. I smiled and gave him a knowing look back. He seemed to understand the irony which I was trying to convey but only shrugged it off shyly before going along his way.
The following week he was as taciturn as before, but I’d already decided that I would ride him just the same. I’m not so idealistic as to think I’m going to change lives, but catering exclusively to the first few rows only makes me feel more like the puppet I sometimes fear myself to be. I’ll probably never get through to this boy or those like him, but I’ve been the resentful pupil once and know what feeds their fire. There’s no easier target than a hypocrite as a teacher. All I’m asking is I try.
Great post.
Nice post, and I feel your pain, although I don’t always share your perseverance. I do think it’s important to learn a second language, but especially by college level, if the students aren’t self-motivated they’re never going to accomplish anything anyway, so often I just ask them to leave if they don’t want to be there.
The problem with riding them is that it robs the good students of class time. Depending on the situation, I think it can be worth it, but some kids really just don’t want to learn English…
Yay Quincy! Really good post. I know those back-row students well.
I’ve taught at two kinds of colleges in China- countryside schools where foreign teachers are the equivalent of celebrity endorsements and now at a key university where foreign teachers are a dime a dozen. Both kinds of schools have the back-row kids- the countryside schools had the jaded nihilists who had little hope for their future and the high-status school has the divas and playboys who know that their future is secure no matter what their grades are. But I’ve seen enough inspiring Hollywood classroom epics about a stalwart teacher instilling a love of life and letters into their disillusioned urban or rural students to give me the encouragement espresso I need for each class!! Hahaha….
Great post.
Best of luck with the teaching gig.
J.
I agree, great inaugural post – something that any of us that are or were ESL teachers can relate to.
I think you had the right idea chatting with the kid outside of the class. I think it’s easy to forget when we’re just doing “our job” how much effect we can really have on a student. You never know, simpler gestures than that have changed the path a student was on.
That kid has it 100% right. Teaching English to poor Chinese farmers is a complete waste of time. They need skills that are useful. They are not going to college, they are never going to meet a native English speaker ever again and well, there is no and. No and, no future, teach them animal husbandry.The are not going to work in a international company, they may never even leave their village. They need real skills for the world that they exist in. Change the word “English” in your story to “Juggling” and it shines a mirror at your monumental waste of time and effort. Worse still, giving false hope to the front seat guys is just plain cruel. Here, read it again I’ve changed the odd word …..
Last term, I devoted nearly two and a half weeks to administering individual juggling exams to all one-thousand of my students, only to discover recently that these grades which had been required of me were never reported by the office. (why would, they they’re totally pointless) Out here in the countryside, juggling teachers are still more status symbols than anything else. It can be a frustrating environment in which to work.
As I was patrolling these academic hinterlands one day, I came across a boy in the back row staring crossly between his knees. As if there lay the answer to the question I had asked. I began reiterating the juggling lesson for him when he suddenly jerked to life and snapped that he couldn’t juggle. He had no intent to juggle. Well, I sighed. All I’m asking is you try. I attempted to explain the importance of juggling in this increasingly global world, but he only turned away, mumbling in that petulant tone the Chinese can take that perhaps this was the case for some but certainly not for him. (it’s lucky he didn’t slap you) What could I do? Our school preaches a philosophy of focused juggling: work with the good students, don’t even bother with the bad ones. The other jugglers and I have been scolded several times before for banishing miscreants from class and pushing our own expectations. The non juggler teachers simply see it as a waste of time. (well, duh)
So I went on with my juggling, leaving this reprobate to sulk on his own. But I was truly affected by what he had said. Most troubling of all was that his argument was sound. China’s rapid development over the past several decades has yet to reach the rural towns of the interior. Only about 20% of my students will continue on to juggling college. The rest will most likely stay behind in this selfsame town to work as laborers, merchants or farmers, never again to encounter a juggler. As much as I hated to admit it, he was probably right. Who was I to tell him that he had to learn Juggling?
I spent several days wrestling with these thoughts, trying to justify my presence as a volunteer juggler. I ran into the boy at the end of the week on his way home for lunch and fell in beside him as he walked down the alameda. We chatted politely while strolling beneath the poplars, discussing China, juggling and the juggling Crisis. Upon reaching the gate, he praised my juggling, and as far as I could tell, he was genuinely impressed. I smiled and gave him a knowing look back. He seemed to understand the irony which I was trying to convey but only shrugged it off shyly before going along his way.
The following week he was as taciturn as before, but I’d already decided that I would ride him just the same. I’m not so idealistic as to think I’m going to change lives, but catering exclusively to the first few jugglers only makes me feel more like the puppet I sometimes fear myself to be. I’ll probably never get through to this boy or those like him, but I’ve been the resentful pupil once and know what feeds their fire. There’s no easier target than a hypocrite as a teacher. All I’m asking is I try.
Hi Quin…you make a Godmother proud to read this!!! I’m glad to be able to read about what you are doing in China…we miss you!
Nedzer,
Thanks for the feedback. While I understand where you’re coming from–well, perhaps not entirely–I think your proposed solution to the problem is rather thoughtless and only self-perpetuating.
As we’ve both conceded, many of the students will never see a foreigner again. That is exactly why these classes could have so much to offer. Lessons are often tailored around American culture and current global issues, and the opportunity to interact with a Westerner and broaden their horizons, even if only for one year, could absolutely be beneficial to all. Exposure to the outside world is sorely needed here. Would you have the school drop chemistry and calculus as well? The kids definitely won’t be using those subjects further on down the road. Hell, I don’t even use them anymore. One basic standard of living is that every child have access to a core education. This ought to include training in at least one foreign language and is important not only in developing parts of the world such as rural China but also in America as well.
All that aside, English is actually quite relevant. I discovered this weekend that it constitutes one of the main sections on the college entrance exam. True, few make it there, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be given the chance. Learning from a native speaker is an invaluable tool.
I admit that my efforts could be put to better use elsewhere; there are certainly plenty of native speakers out there whose grammar and spelling are in serious need of improvement! But for now I’m happy with where I am. I hope you get a chance to give this all some more thought.
And what a clever analogy with the juggling!
Best,
Quincy
Yep, I agree. A core education is of great value and exposure to a foreign culture (maybe) is helpful. That one can be debated.
Truth be told, I think exposure to foreign cultures is far more important for the future movers and shakers of China,though.
I feel that if I was to give my time, I would teach a hygiene class, sex education and basic health care. Oh and dental hygiene, basic nutrition and child care…and juggling.
Hehehe
All of which I have actually taught, including the juggling.
I remember reading this some time ago.
http://www.sinosplice.com/life/archives/2006/05/21/volunteering-to-teach-in-china
I disagree Nedzer, for most of the points that Quincy made in his follow-up comment. Namely, I disagree with perpetuating the idea that people cannot rise above their station in life because we, people with more, feel they’ll never use it.
This is one of the reasons I think undertakings like The Library Project are of such benefit – far more than many of the make-me-feel-good charities out there. They give people the tools to help themselves.
Maybe the farmer’s kid will never use English again, but without access to the learning, he has no choice. Your argument sounds remarkably like a pre-60s Southern US argument for teaching rural blacks mainstream education.
Of course they can rise above their station! Truth is, that’s a teeny tiny amount. I don’t like the way it is and I know it’s unfair, but that is the reality. Trying to ride a student in a poor village because he does not want to learn English and knows his own realities is just plain stupid!
I believe strongly that volunteer English programs (in China) are useless, stupid misguided scams.
Volunteering to teach core education subjects would be a better use of volunteers time.
It’s like going to Alabama in the 60’s and volunteering to teach those guys Mandarin beacuse it’s the most spoken language in the world; over 1 billion speak it. Who cares, who’s going to use it? I’ll tell you who – a tiny, tiny part of that society. The same rings true for rural China and English volunteers. I find it bewildering that people (abeit a small percentage) still think that teaching English to farmers makes a difference. Teach them core subjects for Gods sake, and teach them in their own language so they can have a real chance to improve their lives.
Volunteering to do anything else is far more useful.
My juggling analogy remains true, regardless of how you try and paint me as an ignorant racist. Ask some Chinese people, ” do they think a laowai volunteering English in a poor village is a worthy/ useful project?
Then get back to me. Ask as many as you can.
Quin,you are doing an admirable job out there. You made the right job decision at the right time. Keep it up!
gooo quincy! this piece is really lovely. i can’t wait to read more of your writing in the future….! <3 rebecca
Hi Quinn,
It’s interesting that we have the opposite dilemma. I’m teaching at a US territory, where the US style education is practiced. We have the leave no child behind model. Trying to get to every child while maintaining the curriculum is very difficult, especially since the classes here are not tiered (no advanced classes). In an effort to accommodate the learning capacity of every student, the classes are slowed down to a point where the top students are unchallenged and bored. The administration’s advice is that the top student will be able to catch up once they get to college anyways. It’s getting so bad over here, that my 11th graders can not multiply fractions much less do any Algebra. I think sometimes you must cut your losses. Of course, focusing on getting through to one student can sometimes give our job meaning, but what about the other students?
Hi, just wanted to say that I’m extremely amused by your blog title and that I look forward to reading more of your posts.
halelluyah for foreigners! hail the laowai who ll come and save my soul. i really dont know what i ll become without you. your life have so much meaning and ure so doing so well giving up a career..