We leave our apartment by 8:05. A short walk down 7
flights of stairs and then hop on our bicycles to fight the busy traffic. The
ride takes 5-15 minutes, depending on the number of cars, bikes, tut-tuts, and pedestrians
going to work, not to mention the parked cars, street peddlers, and
construction trucks full of concrete dust vying for precious asphalt. All of
these are trying to work their way through a tight zig-zag of the
under-construction-since-we-got-here main road called Bin Wen Lu. If the loose
rocks, potholes, and metal plates don’t make you lose control, a moped will
gladly hit you to make up for it.
And that’s the faster way to get to school. The other
option is winding off the main road to side streets where literally every
student that attends the 8+ schools on our road live. It’s pointless to try to bike
there, because we always end up walking our bike through the mass of humanity.
It’s just as packed, but not a main road, so there’s no room for cars. That
doesn’t stop a few from trying though.
We ride down the dusty road and walk over the gate to our
school. For some reason, you can’t ride your bike through the gate or the
guards will yell at you. I’m sure they have a good reason, but I don’t speak
Chinese. Then we ride to Building 3 and walk up 3-4 flights again for our 8:20
classes.
In class we say hello, set up our computer to the
monitor, and take attendance. Then we give a lesson, usually accompanied by a
power point and some ad-lib word spelling and definitions on the board. Not until
I taught in China did I fully appreciate a clean chalkboard. I usually break
about one piece of chalk every three classes. I have a tight grip, and can get
excited fairly easily. The students usually laugh. If I don’t break the chalk,
the eraser will fly out of my hand. That makes them laugh harder.
There’s these nice platforms around the chalkboards that
always trip me up too; the board itself is only 50% usable because it’s so
high, so every classroom has these platforms installed. Makes it easier for
kids in the back to see, yes, but I’m not the most agile (see previous
paragraph). The desk that my laptop sits on is also of a normal height, so
either I hunch over to change the slide or get a free stair-stepper workout
while I teach.
What do I actually teach about? I have three different
classes: Oral English, Western Culture, and College English. In Oral English, of
which I have four each week, I teach, well, English. Sometimes it’s a slideshow
about opposites or tongue twisters, sometimes it’s a handout on love or
dragons. Occasionally we watch a movie. Holidays are great excuses for fun ideas/activities.
This includes relationship words for Valentine’s Day, Charlie Brown Christmas,
Indian heritage for Thanksgiving, Frisbee for Spring Weather (that’s a holiday,
right?), and pumpkin carving for Halloween. Some of our activities require
little English, but they learn the key words and have a physical and
interactional aid to jog their memory. Do you remember what a quesadilla is
because you read it in Spanish class or because you ate it?
Western Culture is more of a lecture, where I present an
aspect of American life. This class is co-taught with Freda, a Chinese teacher.
She teaches them Eastern culture one week, and I teach Western the next. I have
two of these classes, but only one meets each week. While it says “Western”
culture, it’s really American. American Restaurants one week, American ethnicities
the next. This one is power point heavy, but I enjoy getting to look at
pictures of things from home.
College English is the oddball. Last semester, we didn’t
have this class. It’s 2 classes each week, but each week is completely random.
We are essentially guest lecturers for every single College English class the
school offers. We go into another teacher’s class and give a lecture on our
life. What America is like, what I did before I came here, pictures of my past,
my family, my friends, my interests. Basically I parade around and entertain
the students for an hour. Then they ask me questions, if their English is high
enough. The questions are always the same. “What do you think of China?” “What
do you think of us?” “Why you come to China?” “Can you sing a song?” “What is
your favorite movie?” “How old are you?” “Do you have QQ?” “Can I have a photo?”
Then the last few minutes are spent being a celebrity and posing for pictures with
the students and sometimes even the teacher. Overall, this class isn’t
difficult; it’s the fact that our schedule is never static that makes it
difficult.
Classes run an hour and forty-five minutes, and we have
one to two before noon. Lunchtime is spent at our office. We text our food
orders to our Waiban, and he tells Good Day Restaurant. Then at noon they
deliver to the school gate. It’s cheap, healthy, and clean Chinese food, unless
I get the hankering for tang cu li ji (Sweet and Sour pork). Then it’s still
clean, but not as cheap or healthy. Sometimes we get eggplant, tofu, mushroom
and pork, peppers and beef, or kung pao chicken. If we don’t have afternoon
classes, we go sit in at nearby trash street or ride
somewhere further away.
That’s a pretty typical day. There are the random jobs of
running English Corner, recording a textbook, editing a textbook, judging
competitions, sports day activities, performing at parties, and so on that come
up once or twice a semester. These are usually told about one or two days
before, with little of the involvement being voluntary and none being paid.
When one of us has a class and the other doesn’t, we sit
in the office and work on the lesson for next week, grade papers, or not
uncommonly watch a TV show. Some days we stay until 5 or later, while on others
our classes are over early and we can do whatever we want. Wednesdays we stay
late at the office because it cuts the travelling time to go to ladies’ and men’s
study in half.
That’s a typical week in the life an American English
teacher at an Institute in Binjiang District, Hangzhou, China. Though I use the
word “typical,” it’s far from it.
