A Few Remarks on Class Number One


Of my four classes, Class Number One has the worst English and the shortest attention span. It’s composed of 55 girls and a lone boy, Owen. His staunch perseverance amid the rampaging flood of freshman girls day after day is truly commendable, especially because these students have EVERY class together and their maturity level is comparable to that of high school freshmen (since college is the first time they’ve had much independence or free time, their life skills have been stunted a little). I kid you not. Imagine yourself as the only boy surrounded by 55 squealing girls, all day, every day.
When I walk into Class 1, I am inevitably greeted by a wave of gasps. “Oh, so beautiful!” Sometimes they clap. I’m not exaggerating. This has nothing to do with my personal appearance, which has not changed since I left America, the land of anonymity.
One day, I wore a lint-covered maroon beanie to class because Nanchang was experiencing a slumpy spell of cold. (It was days upon days of no sunshine, and without heat in the classrooms, this makes for stiff fingers and perpetual goosebumps and cold ears.) When I walked in the room wearing the beanie, I was greeted with: “Oh, so beautiful!” Gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp. Applause! Applause! Let me assure you, there was nothing beautiful about the sight of my lumpy head made lumpier by the red beanie. I think there are two possible explanations:
1. They forget that I’m not Chinese. Thus, “Oh, so beautiful!” can be translated: “Oh, you’re still white!”
2. They want to make a general observation, but their English skills are too poor to say what they really mean. Thus, “Oh, so beautiful!” can be translated: “Oh, your hair is up in a ponytail today.” or “Oh, that lumpy red beanie your wearing pushes your ears flat against your head.”






False compliments aside, I love me students. On the whole, they are super-shy to speak with me, they like fish and spicy food, they endure regimented days and sudden schedule changes without batting an eyelash, they go out of their way to ensure my personal comfort and safety, and they do their best to communicate with me in an language that isn’t their own. Most of the time, we understand each other reasonably well with gestures, repetition, and as a last resort, spelling. I taught them the Christmas story this week, carefully correcting their pronunciation of “giww birz” to “give birth” and “weerjeen” to “virgin.” This Saturday and next, my team is having all 1,800 of our students over for a progressive Christmas party…20 minute shifts at 3 stations, 30 students at a time from 11 a.m. until 10 p.m. If you think of it, think for the students and for us—that we’ll be filled with the spirit and that they’ll encounter the truth.

Random Fact of the Day: It’s now pineapple season. A ¼ of a pineapple on a stick: a mere 1 yuan. Translation: 12 cents. Woot!