Andrew*
Andrew was a Chinese graduate student at Zhejiang University, the same university where Brian and I had just finished our second semester of language study. I gotta give Andrew credit: he knew what he wanted, and he took bold efforts to find it. What he wanted was a native English speaker to help him prepare for his MIT language exam. The efforts he took were to troll around the international student lounge of Zhejiang University in order to bump into native English speakers who could tutor him. I was seeking extra spending money during July 2012 as Brian and I waited for job opportunities, and we had lots of time on our hands. Somehow, through the mysterious guanxi (relational web) network that unites all expats in China, a friend-of-a-friend introduced me to Andrew.
Andrew and I met at a nearby bar and coffeeshop known for its cheap food, billiard tables, and burrito eating contests. Accompanied by the occastional crash of pool balls and whiff of cigarette smoke, Andrew outlined what he wanted from our tutoring sessions. I would use the language exam prep book he loaned me to choose conversation topics for him. He would have three minutes to brainstorm responses to the topic, then five minutes to offer a relevant monologue while I took notes on his grammar and pronunciation. I would then provide Andrew two to three minutes of feedback. We would repeat this exercise five or six times per session, and he would pay me 100 rmb (about $17) at the end of our time together each day. I thought his terms were fair, given I wouldn't need to prepare any lesson beforehand. I also valued that Andrew would pay me after each session, since in China it's better to settle accounts swiftly and often when so much of life is uncertain. After he explained the terms, we began our first session.
Andrew was a Chinese graduate student at Zhejiang University, the same university where Brian and I had just finished our second semester of language study. I gotta give Andrew credit: he knew what he wanted, and he took bold efforts to find it. What he wanted was a native English speaker to help him prepare for his MIT language exam. The efforts he took were to troll around the international student lounge of Zhejiang University in order to bump into native English speakers who could tutor him. I was seeking extra spending money during July 2012 as Brian and I waited for job opportunities, and we had lots of time on our hands. Somehow, through the mysterious guanxi (relational web) network that unites all expats in China, a friend-of-a-friend introduced me to Andrew.
Andrew and I met at a nearby bar and coffeeshop known for its cheap food, billiard tables, and burrito eating contests. Accompanied by the occastional crash of pool balls and whiff of cigarette smoke, Andrew outlined what he wanted from our tutoring sessions. I would use the language exam prep book he loaned me to choose conversation topics for him. He would have three minutes to brainstorm responses to the topic, then five minutes to offer a relevant monologue while I took notes on his grammar and pronunciation. I would then provide Andrew two to three minutes of feedback. We would repeat this exercise five or six times per session, and he would pay me 100 rmb (about $17) at the end of our time together each day. I thought his terms were fair, given I wouldn't need to prepare any lesson beforehand. I also valued that Andrew would pay me after each session, since in China it's better to settle accounts swiftly and often when so much of life is uncertain. After he explained the terms, we began our first session.
Two things stick out from my week of language tutoring with Andrew. Firstly, I remember the cultural distinctions that emerged in the types of answers that Andrew gave. One topic I chose from his prep book was to describe a significant landmark from his hometown. Andrew regaled me with the dimensions, color, size, and construction materials of the Guangzhou Library. His impressive details gave me such a clear mental image of the building that I was able to imagine it very close to reality. I nonetheless felt like his answer was lacking: he did not tell me WHY this library mattered to him. The question technically did not ask for that information: it simply said to "describe a landmark." As Andrew spewed out one architectural fact after another, however, I realized that most Westerners would interpret the question as asking for historical and/or personal significance. To Andrew, what mattered was the appearance. After several years of traveling throughout China, and reading countless plaques on cultural landmarks, I discovered how ubiquitous was the Chinese penchant to focus only on physical detail. I had to explain to Andrew that most Westerners would care less about the "what?," and more about the "why?".
Another shocking revelation interrupted our otherwise ordinary tutoring sessions. Sometime during our first day together, Andrew advised me to notice his eyes when he was talking. "I want you to tell me if you can figure out when I'm lying," he casually explained. "I'm trying to master my body language so that my lying looks natural."
I stopped the conversation right there and looked at him in disbelief. "Andrew," I responded with a heavy pause. "You CANNOT lie during these interviews. Any university in the US will expel you if they catch you lying. You MUST offer honest answers, no matter how awkward or difficult they may seem. It is better to be honest than to cheat." I looked him in the eyes, just as he had requested.
"Are you a Christian?," he asked. I was shocked again. "Yes," I replied. "I thought so," he quipped. "Christians cannot lie, and they always say you have to tell the truth." He then told me stories about the Christians he knew, and how they held themselves to a high standard of integrity. I discerned simultaneous respect and disdain in his attitude towards these believers, since in Andrew's belief system, why would you NOT lie if you can make your eyes look honest enough?
Lily and Coco*
In addition to Andrew, the expat guanxi network had recently gifted me an introduction to Shadow.* Shadow originally invited me to teach at her newly established English school for children an hour outside of town. She offered to pick me up at a street corner near my home and drive me there. The morning of our first scheduled session, she called me after I had been waiting outside for 45 minutes to tell me she had car trouble, and couldn't make it. The next day, she managed to pick me up within 15 minutes of our scheduled time. Only upon our arrival at her exburb school, however, did she tell me she expected me to provide my own curriculum to teach a 90-minute session to two children: a five-year-old with decent English, and a two-year-old with no English at all. Perhaps you're not surprised, dear reader, to hear that I collected my pay for that day after a train wreck of a lesson, and said, "no thanks" to her offer to pick me up the next day.
Like Andrew and many Chinese friends we came to know, Shadow kept her eye on the prize. It wasn't every day she met an actual native English speaker. After I politely but firmly declined her whackdoodle English school job, Shadow came up with another idea: how about I tutor her daughter Lily and niece Coco at her home in the city? Shadow was the wife of a very wealthy man, and she came from a prominent family who didn't depend on her English school income. Since I had nothing to lose, and I was curious to see where this new train would go, I hesitantly agreed to her alternate arrangement. Shadow promptly closed down her school that week so I could tutor Lily and Coco.
The girls were each five-years-old, and they had decent English. Not surprisingly, Shadow didn't have a set agenda for the lessons: she sought equal parts English training and babysitting. Though Lily and Coco were sweet girls, by Thursday I was running out of ideas to entertain them in their apartment. We had already covered room names, household objects, seasons, and foods. I played guessing games, drawing games, and singing games. I didn't have money to buy fancy currriculum or supplies, and my creative juices were drying up. After Thursday's session, with the next and final day's lesson in sight, I desperately texted a friend to ask if I could borrow a textbook from her. She kindly came to my apartment that afternoon to drop it off. I sighed in relief.
Friday morning, Lily and Coco greeted me again with excitement and giggles. I exchanged brief pleasantries with them and with Shadow, then pulled out my new textbook to begin a lesson that day. The girls' eyes immediately glazed over with dread. With hunched backs, they picked up pencils, faced me, and sat down in defeat.
My voice caught in my throat as I gazed at them. "I can't do this," I thought. "These girls already suffer so much performance pressure during the year. I want today to be fun and joyful for them." I prayed to God to give me a new idea, right then. I wanted these children to delight in learning.
Another shocking revelation interrupted our otherwise ordinary tutoring sessions. Sometime during our first day together, Andrew advised me to notice his eyes when he was talking. "I want you to tell me if you can figure out when I'm lying," he casually explained. "I'm trying to master my body language so that my lying looks natural."
I stopped the conversation right there and looked at him in disbelief. "Andrew," I responded with a heavy pause. "You CANNOT lie during these interviews. Any university in the US will expel you if they catch you lying. You MUST offer honest answers, no matter how awkward or difficult they may seem. It is better to be honest than to cheat." I looked him in the eyes, just as he had requested.
"Are you a Christian?," he asked. I was shocked again. "Yes," I replied. "I thought so," he quipped. "Christians cannot lie, and they always say you have to tell the truth." He then told me stories about the Christians he knew, and how they held themselves to a high standard of integrity. I discerned simultaneous respect and disdain in his attitude towards these believers, since in Andrew's belief system, why would you NOT lie if you can make your eyes look honest enough?
Lily and Coco*
In addition to Andrew, the expat guanxi network had recently gifted me an introduction to Shadow.* Shadow originally invited me to teach at her newly established English school for children an hour outside of town. She offered to pick me up at a street corner near my home and drive me there. The morning of our first scheduled session, she called me after I had been waiting outside for 45 minutes to tell me she had car trouble, and couldn't make it. The next day, she managed to pick me up within 15 minutes of our scheduled time. Only upon our arrival at her exburb school, however, did she tell me she expected me to provide my own curriculum to teach a 90-minute session to two children: a five-year-old with decent English, and a two-year-old with no English at all. Perhaps you're not surprised, dear reader, to hear that I collected my pay for that day after a train wreck of a lesson, and said, "no thanks" to her offer to pick me up the next day.
Like Andrew and many Chinese friends we came to know, Shadow kept her eye on the prize. It wasn't every day she met an actual native English speaker. After I politely but firmly declined her whackdoodle English school job, Shadow came up with another idea: how about I tutor her daughter Lily and niece Coco at her home in the city? Shadow was the wife of a very wealthy man, and she came from a prominent family who didn't depend on her English school income. Since I had nothing to lose, and I was curious to see where this new train would go, I hesitantly agreed to her alternate arrangement. Shadow promptly closed down her school that week so I could tutor Lily and Coco.
The girls were each five-years-old, and they had decent English. Not surprisingly, Shadow didn't have a set agenda for the lessons: she sought equal parts English training and babysitting. Though Lily and Coco were sweet girls, by Thursday I was running out of ideas to entertain them in their apartment. We had already covered room names, household objects, seasons, and foods. I played guessing games, drawing games, and singing games. I didn't have money to buy fancy currriculum or supplies, and my creative juices were drying up. After Thursday's session, with the next and final day's lesson in sight, I desperately texted a friend to ask if I could borrow a textbook from her. She kindly came to my apartment that afternoon to drop it off. I sighed in relief.
Friday morning, Lily and Coco greeted me again with excitement and giggles. I exchanged brief pleasantries with them and with Shadow, then pulled out my new textbook to begin a lesson that day. The girls' eyes immediately glazed over with dread. With hunched backs, they picked up pencils, faced me, and sat down in defeat.
My voice caught in my throat as I gazed at them. "I can't do this," I thought. "These girls already suffer so much performance pressure during the year. I want today to be fun and joyful for them." I prayed to God to give me a new idea, right then. I wanted these children to delight in learning.
Would you believe me, dear reader, if I tell you the Holy Spirit answered my prayer in that moment? I closed the textbook, put it down, and proclaimed, "all right girls, we have a change of plans! We're going to find a lost monster!" Lily and Coco shrieked with excitement as we not only jumped, danced, and sang, but also practiced our English verbs, nouns, and adjectives in pursuit of this mythical creature. Here is how I recorded that day's lesson in my journal:
I thank you too for the opportunity to tutor Lily and Coco this week. Thank you that I could earn a little extra money with this, and also be blessed by their presence. I especially praise you for the joy of teaching them about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bingo, and especially for the monster fairy tale game today. I prayed for energy and inspiration to know what to teach them, and Holy Spirit, you gave me ideas. It was precious and life-giving to see them become so excited by the opportunity to use their imagination and play a game today. Thank you, Lord. Thank you that we could make fairy crowns out of paper plates, draw the picture of the monster, and have a “scavenger hunt” to gather the ingredients for medicine to heal the monster’s family. Thank you, Lord. You brought all those things together, and it was a joy to see how excited the girls were to learn and to be excited by the power of narrative.
Jesus, I thank you too for funny stories about the tooth fairy, for the delicious veggie steamed buns, and for the beautiful music of Lily's mom Shadow playing for us on the Chinese instrument (kinda like a harpsicord). What a beautiful morning, Lord, and you blessed it. Thank you (July 20, 2012).
In the midst of chaos, in the midst of scarcity and exhaustion, God brought beauty and fulfillment.
*All names have been changed to protect those involved. I picked pseudonyms that are equally exotic to each person's real English name.
I thank you too for the opportunity to tutor Lily and Coco this week. Thank you that I could earn a little extra money with this, and also be blessed by their presence. I especially praise you for the joy of teaching them about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bingo, and especially for the monster fairy tale game today. I prayed for energy and inspiration to know what to teach them, and Holy Spirit, you gave me ideas. It was precious and life-giving to see them become so excited by the opportunity to use their imagination and play a game today. Thank you, Lord. Thank you that we could make fairy crowns out of paper plates, draw the picture of the monster, and have a “scavenger hunt” to gather the ingredients for medicine to heal the monster’s family. Thank you, Lord. You brought all those things together, and it was a joy to see how excited the girls were to learn and to be excited by the power of narrative.
Jesus, I thank you too for funny stories about the tooth fairy, for the delicious veggie steamed buns, and for the beautiful music of Lily's mom Shadow playing for us on the Chinese instrument (kinda like a harpsicord). What a beautiful morning, Lord, and you blessed it. Thank you (July 20, 2012).
In the midst of chaos, in the midst of scarcity and exhaustion, God brought beauty and fulfillment.
*All names have been changed to protect those involved. I picked pseudonyms that are equally exotic to each person's real English name.