I like definition. I like knowing what I’m expected to do so that I can do it. It’s not surprising really. In fact, I may be able to effectively argue that it’s somewhat universal. Just tell me first when you want me to make my argument, how much time I have, who will be listening in, and if you want a handout (in black and white or color). When we know what’s expected, when we have our role presented to us clearly, we can prepare and rehearse and work at competence and excellence. That’s my comfort zone. Put me in an unstructured, undefined situation and I’ll do one of two things: (1) create the definition I desire (which may or not may be acceptable to everyone else) or (2) try to run far far away. Yeah, I may or may not be pretty competent at that too.
On this China trip, there’s plenty of defined times. And, they work for me. I can teach English to university students for 2 hours at a time. I’m good with that. I have curriculum that I can prepare for and a platform that gives me a reason to speak to the students and a reason for them to listen. I hate having to do skits on stage. Frankly, I’m just not that funny. But, give me a script and tell me what I need to do, and I will muscle through it because it’s my job to do it. I can handle that. But, it’s not all structured here. Darn it. There’s a good bit of unstructured times like when each one of us was paired with a student who went through an application process and underwent interviews to have the privilege to escort us around a park close by for the morning. Ironic to the idiom I just taught 100 students, park walking can be hard, people. But, the shared purpose of walking and opportunities to admire flowers, local grandparents with babies, and funny little boats do help.
Harder for me than a walk in the park is English Corner. Three times over the week, the team of 15 of us stand outside one of the classroom buildings and make ourselves available (aka are captive) to any students who want to practice their English (aka come in large groups and surround each one of us individually while taking our picture and trying very hard to ask us many of the same basic questions but giggling more than speaking) for an hour…a long hour. In case that leaves you not knowing how I really feel about it, I’ll explain. I find the awkwardness so uncomfortable that I find myself wanting to mom-it-up and organize some random game or become the designated photographer and hide behind my camera.
Monday afternoon. The first English Corner of the week. I walked with the team over to where we’d gather, hanging back a bit towards the end of the procession. All the students waiting to talk would grab them first, I thought. They want to talk to them anyway, right? They want to meet the cute young girls from Texas. They want to talk to the couple in their late 70s who have been to China and to this school over and over again. They want to admire Ashlyn’s blonde hair and ask if her curls are “in born.” I have become quite skilled at justifying doing what feels most comfortable to me. I guess I’m good at that too.
Some students who didn’t get the memo that I wasn’t the team member they should talk to gathered around me. They were in a group of four; Chinese students tend to travel in small flocks, arm in arm. One clearly was the spokesperson for the group. Two of them nudged her, chattering away in Chinese, clearly instructing her on what to ask me. One had her eyes glued to her phone with a translation app open ready for the trouble they knew would follow. The ring leader started her questions; all of them giggled. I joined them. We tried to talk. They nodded their heads in unison when I’d answer a question. I’m sure they didn’t understand. But, I answered their questions anyway. And, they kept nodding anyway.
As we stood their together, another girl walked up alone. It was hard not to notice her as she was so different from the rest of the students. “Are you Chinese?” I asked her. “Yes,” she replied. “Where are you from?” I asked her. She hesitated; I thought she was struggling to find the English words. She wasn’t. It was a much bigger struggle.
…
{part 2 forthcoming}
