Unexpected Book-talk

Recently I stayed home with an sneak-attack of mild food poisoning.  I cancelled class and rehearsal, but forgot about a student meeting that I had in the evening.  After toughing through the meeting, I was headed upstairs when I saw one of my favorite students* chatting in a library next to a cafe.  I poked my head inside to say hello, and noticed that three students were circled about a Chinese-English Bible.

So during a time I least expected it, I joined a small group of students trying to wrap their brains around the ideas in the Bible.  The concepts they struggled with were amazingly logical: Are all of these stories true?  If we can do anything we set our minds to, why do we need God?  I have questions, so I guess I don't "believe."

I loved the fact that I was there to hear these questions, because too often these thoughts are shushed with cliche responses that don't really address the issues.  Here are a few of my thoughts about these questions....

Are all of these stories true?
Classic Answer: Yes.  
My answer: Which story?
Biblical authors weren't afraid of allegory, metaphor or illustrative narratives.  Some people say, 'But if you think the Bible can be metaphorical, you can explain away all difficult parts as metaphors!'  Um...no you can't.  If you refuse to consider the possible uses of literature, you choose to limit your understanding of the Bible.  Psalms! Proverbs!   The development of themes and motifs of the prophets!  Story-telling forms of the ancient Hebrews!  My answer to this questions is, "I believe the Bible is real. Some of the writings aren't literal.  Which one are you talking about?"

If we can do anything we set our minds to, why do we need God?
Classic Answer:  Sometimes we make mistakes or get discouraged, so we need God.
My Answer: We can't do anything we set our minds to.
One of the myths of Modernism is the idea that hard work and innovation enables humankind to accomplish anything!  Don't believe me?  Go to a graduation ceremony.**  Many people I know would say, 'I don't believe that.  Human beings have limitations.  We have spiritual and psychological needs that often can't be addressed through hard work or willpower.'  If you are one of those people, welcome to Post-Modernism!  I use the labels of Modernism and Post Modernism because I've actually heard people lament the death of Modernism.  Humans can accomplish great things, but we cannot solve all problems.  Let go of that pressure...it runs people into the ground.  When this question meets faith, we tend to treat God like a gift-giver.  Yes, He is Wonderful, Counselor, and Healer, but our need of Him isn't restricted to times of pain.  We don't need God to encourage us while we solve all of life's problems.  We need God because we are human, fallible, and limited, and that is often difficult for us to accept.***

I have questions, so I guess I don't "believe."
Classic Answer: Uh-oh, let's find the answers.****
My Answer:  Questions are okay.
When I was little, I was troubled by the questions I had about God.  I was talking to my mom one day while we were doing errands (I don't know if she remembers this), and she finally paused from what she was doing, looked at me, and said, "God can handle your questions, Emily.  You're not going to make Him mad."  I felt immediate relief that has encouraged me often throughout the years.  God gave us brains, critical thinking skills, and plenty of paradoxical teachings in the Bible if we're brave enough to see them.  I think God wants our hearts AND our minds.  We worship with our minds by addressing the questions we have, not by ignoring them.  I believe that if we use our questions to pursue the nature of God, them we're right where He wants us - chasing Him down!

I love Jesus, and I love teaching.  Tonight I had the opportunity of talking with a well-loved student who was really thinking about God.  I loved being able to validate her questions.  Having faith isn't about the absence of questions, it's about the pursuit of God through those questions.  I'm excited to talk with these students again!



*I'm a teacher, not a parent.  Favorites are allowed.
**I loathe graduation ceremonies.  However, the people I love tend to graduate from places.  If I've ever attended a graduation ceremony on your behalf, please recognize it as the great extension of my love for you.
***There are many reasons we need God. These are just a few pertinent examples.
****Sometimes questions arise simply from lack of Biblical knowledge.  In this instance, I'm referring to deeper questions.  Too often I hear Christians say, "We just can't understand that because we're human."  True, we are limited by our humanity, but God has embedded in us the desire to understand him (Ecclesiastes), and that desire should be encouraged.

Culture-Win

The following is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to a friend a couple weeks ago after an incredibly successful evening out with my students.


"I had a major 'culture-win' tonight.

Compared to the stories I hear from other teachers, I am incredibly blessed with amazing students. At the beginning of the year, skill and work ethic levels were all across the board. At this point of the year, all of my students follow me, almost all of them respect me, and many (maybe most?) of them like me. Except for ONE.

In my largest class, there are two stink butts*. One of them is completely disengaged 90% of the time, but she's respectful about it. The other one is AWFUL - heaving heavy sighs, rollings his eyes, laying his head on the desk, looking straight into my eyes and keeping his mouth closed when he's supposed to be practicing new sounds or words. Every student has a day when they're not learning well, but he's consistently a disrespectful jerk that I want to kick in the shins.** I've worked really hard to handle it in ways that don't make him lose face, because 1) if he's embarrassed, he'll shut me out. 2) If the class feels bad for him, they will ALL shut me out. After months of covert effort with moderate success, I finally hit a point yesterday where I felt like I was the one losing face by allowing him to treat me the way he does.

The way to handle conflict in China is to use a mediator to soften the blow. The way Americans (especially me) handle conflict is swift, clear confrontation. See the problem there? I hate involving a third party. Why make more drama than necessary? But my first goal is to create an environment that will help my students learn - their culture, their rules. So after class I invited my monitor (class leader) out to dinner tonight, told her vaguely that I wanted to discuss a couple of problems and invited her to bring a friend she trusted along. I didn't want her to feel too isolated. Chinese business meetings are 90% social exchanges, then a 10% business, usually at the end of a full meal. When I met my student that night, I saw she brought not one, but NINE STUDENTS from my class! I thought, 'Well....nevermind then. We'll just have fun.' Following tradition, we got a private room in a nice little restaurant, they gave me the honor seat (such a subtle, lovely nicety), and ate fantastic food. It was really fun to swap girl-talk with my students!

After we had finished, the monitor asked me what it was that I wanted to talk about. Then I realized that they were all aware of and completely ready to talk through the issues. I never mentioned the problem-student by name, but when described the problems, it it was obvious they knew who I was talking about. I said over and over that as a CLASS I was very pleased with them, but that I felt loss of face because of this one person's disrespect. What followed was an excellent and open conversation.

These 10 women are all committed, consistent students, and there are only 35 students in the whole class. I talked through my problem, described how I would approach it in America and my concern with the cultural conflict if I used the same tactics in China. They appeared to respect and appreciate the consideration, and they gave excellent feedback. I cannot explain how affected I was by the riveted attention and serious expressions on their faces. They were concerned WITH me about the problem, displaying an amazing level of maturity and invested care. I felt respected on a very deep level.

We exchanged ideas, and they laughed when they told me, "Back in the dorms, we talk about how smart you are about how you respond to people who don't listen very well and how you rearrange the classroom!" They also mentioned the overall positive change in attitude about class since the beginning of the year. We talked about activities that did and didn't work well. Luckily they were most critical about stupid activities that I was REQUIRED to teach! So I told them, "Yeah, I thought that was dumb too. My boss told me I had to teach this idea this way." We all laughed, and had a wonderful conversation about learning theory and how an activity that isn't helpful for one person can be very important for the learning of another person. I could see their worlds exploding a little bit - I love it when that happens!

An unrelated but meaningful part of the night were a couple of short, powerful conversations about how to recognize the difference between good and bad men. (Chinese college-aged girls have a reputation among the foreigners for being idealistic, naive, and uneducated about relationships. They idealize traditional male-female roles and they have no sex education. Many of my college-age students are sexually active, but they don't know how babies are made or what STD's are because it's taboo to talk about.) Many Chinese women are victims of physical abuse. We talked about the personality traits of good men, how to see them, which kinds of men to avoid. They were so attentive - I could see that some of them had only talked about it once or twice, and many of them not at all.

After dinner we took a walk through the park holding hands (yes, I've expanded my cultural comfort-bubble to accept holding hands with a woman), learning words in Chinese and telling stories. We made plans to go to KTV (a karaoke chain), ride bikes to the mountain, and go pick strawberries.

I feel like this was an all-around complete "culture win." I had a problem, stepped out of my cultural comfort-zone, followed Chinese protocol, and won the respect of my students. They felt empowered to speak openly and wholly considered a perspective very different from their own. Now all I have to do is show that I've truly heard their feedback, which won't be difficult at all. Even if the stinker student completely flies off the handle, I know that a third of my class made of the best, most vocal students will see it as a temper tantrum instead of a reaction to an "offensive foreigner." They will be supporting ME. There was so much potential for things to go badly tonight, but I took the time, did it right, and it really paid off.

It was such a rich, rewarding experience. It was one of those times that remind me just how much my students matter to me."

I still prefer direct communication, but I'm proud that I was able to relate with my students in the way they needed me to.

*Stink-butt is a technical teacher-term

**I've never actually tried this

In the Eye

When I was in college, I took a conducting class where my classmates and I took turns teaching and conducting.  My most vivid memory of this class was the discussion following one of my teaching segments.  The lesson had gone well, and my teacher joined me at the front of the room.  He looked intensely and powerfully into my eyes, and said"Nicole*, your power is right here," as he put his finger firmly against my temple, pointing at my eyes.  My expression didn't change, but all I could think at that moment was,

'My teacher is touching my face.'

My classmates started to giggle as my teacher removed the illustrative finger and explained.  "Your power is right there, in your eyes.  This is your best classroom management tool.  I'd be really afraid to cross those eyes."  Some of my classmates were still giggling, so I immediately shot them a really intense teacher-look (which is sisters with "the mom-look") and burst out laughing when they immediately jumped back and stopped laughing.

I keep this little insight in the back of my mind as I experiment with different classroom management techniques.  He was absolutely right; 90% of the time I manage my class solely with my eyeballs.  It's especially true in China, where my eyes are 21/2 times larger than everyone else's and a strikingly different color.  Sometimes I shoot a look at my class and they gasp out loud, or switch from distracted talking to pin-drop silence in seconds, and all I want to do is laugh and yell "RAWR!!"

And sometimes I do.  My students laugh with me, but they're still just a liiiiiittle bit afraid.  Just enough for the LOOK to be effective.  I guess it just proves that 'the power is in the eye of the teacher.'




*At the time, we had an indecent number of girls named Emily in the music department, so I went by my middle name, Nicole.                                                                                                                                                

Bonnie Bunny

Many little girls grow up dreaming of the day they can be a mommy.  I wasn't one of them.  My momma told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and that God had something special just for me.  So instead of naming my children, I grew up dreaming about being a writer or astronaut or scientist or explorer.  I even had a brief fire-fighter stage.  It hasn't been until recently that I've been bitten by the mommy-bug.  There are several single female teachers here (and yes, eligible men as well) and a recurring conversation theme: When will we have families?  Do we HAVE to wait for husbands in order to raise children?  Personally, I speak strictly from the 'what-if' category on that; I have no plans to adopt at this time. =)

However-

My friend recently bought a bunny, and my maternal instincts instantly went into overdrive.  In lieu of adopting a Chinese baby, it occurred to me that adopting a Chinese bunny might fulfill my need to mother.

Where's PETA when you need them?

This instigated a bunny-hunt, which involved talking to several Chinese friends and students, renting motor bikes (bikes with motors, not motorcycles - a stroke of Chinese brilliance) and spending hours touring all over Xinzheng to find the pet-market.  Interestingly enough, the pet rabbits were right next to the meat rabbits.  The poor things were all jammed into metal baskets so tightly that they couldn't move.  From what I've seen, Chinese people are not gentle with their animals AT ALL.  Adults allow children to smack and poke them, and the sellers are rather rough with them, ripping off matted hair and carelessly squashing their faces as they pull them in and out of cages.

Cassie

Chatting after a stressful ride

I chose my bunny, a beautiful little 'Panda-rabbit' with black ears and a speckled back, picked out a spacious cage, and marveled at my student's ability to maneuver a bike AND a caged rabbit through the crowded streets of Xinzheng.  (By the way, riding those bikes is not as easy as it sounds.  I almost biffed once when my student wasn't looking.  I saw an old Chinese man watching me, so I said, 'Shhh!' and pointed at my student.  Conspiratorial laughs with strangers are the best!)




My bunny had a bit of a messy tummy, so that night I did something I've never done before: I gave a rabbit a bath!  Blow-drying a rabbit is not as easy as blow-drying a dog. The fur is really soft and short - it's impossible to brush, and took forever to dry, but she was too little to leave wet.  Wet bunny in a towel?  Maybe the cutest thing.



After much deliberation I decided to name her 'Bonnie' because she was such a perky little thing, and I liked the alliteration.  She especially liked running behind the sofa and exploring my bedroom.  I decided to potty train her (which required hunting down cat litter) but she pooped on my blanket and peed in my favorite shoes within the first two days.  Not ON my favorite shoes - IN my favorite shoes.

It was worth it though. She spent a lot of time meeting my friends, and hanging out around my feet.  What a trusting soul!

She learned how to Skype, met Blake, and spent a lot of time tracking his face back and forth across the screen.  What kind of mom would I be if I didn't photo-capture the cuteness?

Lucy and Bonnie having a bonding moment.  Once she was safely at home and not crashing around Xinzheng, Bonnie was fairly confident.  My apartment must have been a haven of calm in comparison to the craziness of the pet market.

She hung out in the pocket of my awesome jammies while I did laundry the other day.



This past week was Culture Week at Sias.  It involves a lot of presentations and performance by the foreign faculty that teaches world history and showcases multicultural performance arts.  Bonnie seemed a little tired (I presumed it was due to my late nights) so she was in her cage while I was turning my friend Elizabeth into a salsa dancer.  I was almost done with her hair when I hear a squeak.  "Is that my bunny?" I wondered aloud.  Since when do bunnies make noise?  I stuck my head out of the bathroom and saw poor Bonnie stretched out on the floor of her cage.  Elizabeth and I went over to check her out, and the little thing squeaked again.  I jumped up and grabbed a couple hundred yuan and my shoes while Elizabeth called a Chinese speaking friend to go to the vet with me.  I ransacked my cupboards for a box, spurred on by the anxious little cries.  I found one, but before I could get the cage open, she arched her back, and died.

I've never watched anything die in pain like that.  Surely there is nothing quite as pathetic and heartrending as the frightened, pained cries of a baby bunny.  I would have taken her to the vet earlier if I had recognized the signs of a sick rabbit. So sad...

I was then faced with an immediate dilemma:  what do I do with her?  I have an immense capacity to deal with unpleasant things, but I do NOT handle dead things well.  It's not the death itself that's difficult, it's the corpse.  I try not to show it, but they really scare me.  What an irrational fear - it's not going to jump up at me or DO anything.  I have to mention that this doesn't apply to food sources or animals that I've hunted/caught for food.  I can even grit my teeth and get through a dissection just fine, but fetal pigs are pushing it.  I don't even want to think about dissecting cats!  When I was 17 we had a lovo  (like a luau) for a friend's wedding, and one of my best friends thought it would be a great idea to chase me with the pig's head....outside...in the dark...surrounded by sleeping Fijians.  (PS: I'M NOT OVER IT YET.)

I hate this part of me.  It makes me feel weak and heartless.  Who goes to a funeral of a loved one and shudders at the sight of their corpse?  Why is it that I can adore my dog for years and have a hard time touching her only minutes after her death?  What logic can possibly be behind the fear of a corpse?  None.  There is no logic, but I can't shake the aversion.

I told Elizabeth a little about it as she prepared to leave for her salsa dance.  That amazing woman offered to come back and take care of little Bonnie for me!  I hate that I was relieved, but I was.  She left to dance, leaving me with my tiny bunny corpse.  I covered the cage with a blanket, and sat bravely in the same room, hating my cowardice, but also full of gratefulness for my friend's help.

For the last several years, it's been a goal of mine to conquer my fear of corpses.  They are the only thing that really frighten me.  My independent streak tells me that I should be able to deal with things on my own, ALL things.  If someone breaks into my house, I don't scream - I pick up something heavy to swing.  If there's a fire, I try to put it out instead of calling the fire department (like a sensible person should).  I've wanted to conquer this THING, but now I wonder, why should I?

Chinese people do everything within their power to disperse negative feelings.  They usually try to diffuse tension by dispersing it among many people.  If one person has a problem with another, they get another person to work it out for them.  From an American perspective this looks like 'ganging up' on someone, but in China it's like every person is a mediator.  If you're down, people swarm you with happiness until you can't help but smile.  Even if your smile stems from politeness rather than compulsion, the outward act can lead to the feeling.  In a way, contentment of the individual is the responsibility of the community.  The individual relies on their community's support, but is conscious and eager to support others.

I'm a naturally independent person.  I fear little.  Maybe it's okay for me to have this area of weakness.  Maybe it's okay for me to need other people's help once in a while.  Of course there are many areas in life where I've received help and assistance before, but that has been largely situational.  It's a bit different to acknowledge that I have a constant and predictable weakness.  Moving overseas has been a both/and experience so far; I've grown both more independent in action and more reliant on the support of others in issues of the heart.  In moving here, I wanted to become more independent and free.  Now that I'm here, I feel like I'm learning that relying on your community requires trust and a willingness to release control.  It's scary to admit that you need another person, especially if you don't know if that person will come through.  But it's through that vulnerability that people can truly love one another.

My sweet and sad little time with Bonnie bunny left me with a bag of rabbit food and an empty cage.  It was so nice to have something to love on, but it might be a while before I get another bunny.  She was a sweetheart, and I miss her.

The Only Quiet Place in China

I feel like I’ve just stepped into the twilight zone – I’m in a quiet room.  In earlier posts I talked about the oppressively high volume of everything in China.  The dorms are open and loud, and the restaurants and tea shops are really just for eating, not parking with books.  I knew my students study, but I couldn’t figure out where.

In America, libraries are full of books.  In China, libraries are full of students.  The first floor is filled with books.  The space on the second floor is split evenly between books and students, and the third floor doesn’t have any books at all – just one massive, open, silent room, full of students.  There are maybe 150-200 people in a room the size of a small basketball court or two mammoth choir rooms, and no one is talking.  Apparently ‘studying together’ in China means studying in the same place, not speaking with one another about class content.

This is the first time I’ve felt overwhelmed by my singular whiteness.  Maybe it’s because it’s so quiet.  Or maybe it’s because every face is down and I was surprised with a sea of black hair when I expected books.  As awkward and strange as this is – it’s also so CALM.  I love it!  My phone just went off – so awkward!  I feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders now that I’ve found a place where the loudest sound is a backpack zipper or muted cough.  This is fantastic…