In which I teach some classes, destroy a woman's dreams, get lost, and take a taxi

So my first week of classes is over. I’ve been really impressed with the students. I was warned that they would be very uncomfortable with speaking in class, but I think this group has learned that crazy American professors want you to talk. They definitely are slower to speak than American classes, though sometimes that is a translation issue. My poor kiddoes—they not only have to take classes in English, but they get stuck with me, the fastest talker ever raised south of the Mason-Dixon line. I’m really trying, and also making sure to get questions and instructions clearly up on ppt. At the end of class today, my English students, who have had me 3 times this week, told the assistant that they were starting to get used to my speed and style, so I think we’re off to a good start.




My first class, business research, is about 40 some students. The class itself is the usual business nonsense, but the kids seem very nice. I was demonstrating how to define a business dilemma and trying to draw them out, so I grabbed one kids iced tea out of his hand and said, ok, we’re going to sell this iced tea—by the way, how do you say that in Chinese? After they all had a good laugh at me trying to say “bing ho cha,” they loosened up. The class is very close to 231, for my IU peeps, and I had them starting brainstorming a campus problem, which gave me some interesting perspective on their campus life. Several groups wanted to work on getting individual toilets in the dorms. Frankly, first I’d work on getting TOILETS: Chinese bathrooms have drains, and flush, but they don’t have an actual toilet—you squat over the drain. And put your toilet paper in a basket next to it. Let me tell you, in a hot climate with no air-conditioning, the classroom halls smell delightful by the end of the day. But I digress. Several other groups wanted to work on getting hot water for bathing—apparently some dorms have hot water heaters that work intermittently, while others have none. H-ee-N-ee as they call it here (yi is the Chinese word for one) also was a big contender. It’s interesting that most of them are interested in creature comforts that I think wouldn’t have even occurred to a Chinese student a few years ago—but then, Zheijiang province is one of China’s richest, so these kids are the spoiled rich of China. Can you imagine American students in a dorm with no hot water?



The English cohort is 16 kids, with 3-4 repeaters from last year. I only have one really interesting English name—“Event”—although “Jimmy” said he’d like to be known as “NBA guy.” There are one or two really bright kids who are pretty willing to talk—the class monitor even came up to me during the break in Shakespeare class to talk about The Other Boleyn Girl and ask how it fit in the whistle stop tour of 16th cent British history I’d given them. Shakespeare will definitely be a struggle, but we got some good discussion going about the creation of family in Little House.



To get the ball rolling in the Amer Lit class, I asked the students what their vision of America was. I got the answers I expected, but some interesting ones as well. One student said he thought America’s clean envt was a big draw—he was impressed with the pictures friends who were in America sent back with blue skies—something I haven’t seen since I’ve been here. Someone else said America’s health care system was a big draw—that the government provided healthcare for all. I figured it was just a student misconception and said, well that’s not really the case and moved on. But today I was talking to my assistant, Nina, and she said when she discussed American culture this was one of the plusses she emphasized—our benevolent approach to healthcare. So apparently while everyone in the US is screaming that we are socializing healthcare, the communists think we do a better job of spreading the wealth. Anyway, Nina explained to me that in China she wouldn’t even have health care if she didn’t work. When I explained the same was true in America AND I paid the equivalent of 12000 yuan for my healthcare, and told her what a hospital visit cost in America (in China it’s maybe 200 yuan a night—maybe $35), she looked at me with a very serious face and said “you have ruined my American dream.”



So yesterday, I decided to be super brave and go grocery shopping on my own, via bus. Cabs are really cheap, but most drivers do not know where are apartment complex is—they’ll drive us up to the university and then you have to direct them the rest of the way. But this is me we’re talking about—I can’t find my away around the 10th floor of the library, so I felt my chances of telling a Chinese cab driver where to go were minimal. So the bus seemed a good plan. The two choices for shopping—beyond veggies and fruit, which are sold on fruit stands which are everywhere—are the Walmart, in Wanda Plaza and the Metro, which is like the fancy store in town—it carries lots of imports. The Metro is easier to recognize—it’s in a free-standing building—so I decided to try to go to it. After three of the proper busses passed by the proper stop without stopping—they all waved off people trying to board and then pulled up for their break or something 50 feet down the road—I decided to walk up the road a bit to see if there was another stop past their nap area. Well, 20 minutes later, no such luck and I returned to the original bus-stop to see the same darn busses still parked down the road.



Reasonable people would have given up by this point, particularly since there are 10 restaurants 10 feet from my apartment, all of them serving very tasty meals for less than $2. But I’m stubborn. So I walked across campus (another 15 minutes or so) to get to the bus-stop that had the bus that went to Walmart. I successfully boarded the bus this time, but, as you might be able to guess, I missed the Walmart and ended up at the bus terminal on the other side of town.



While I could have ridden the bus back, I decided to retrace the bus path of foot for a bit and then catch a taxi to the Walmart. It was actually very cool. I wandered down a very typical, narrow Chinese street. Apartment buildings, clothes shops and restaurants lined the street, and several merchants had blankets spread out with potatoes, greens and oranges. One of the things I’ve noticed about the produce available is that it does not vary from cart to cart—it’s obviously all local and we get the veggies currently in season. I wonder what it will be come mid winter?



Also, because it was evening, the people were all out. I passed a group of old men playing go, kids sitting on stools doing their homework, and lots of adults chatting to each other. Dogs wandered around sniffing trash and I definitely had another “wow, I’m in China moment.” This moment was somewhat marred when I came back out to a busy intersection with a big cafeteria style restaurant blaring Fergie’s “My Humps.” Even more bizarrely, later in the evening I passed two rows of Chinese people facing each other on a street and doing some sort of Western-style line dance. Peculiar.



Well, I was ready to grab a taxi by this point, but it was Ningbo rush hour and, if you haven’t seen the Chinese drive, just imagine a giant bumper car course with lots of obstacles. I couldn’t get a cab to stop and I was starting to think that there was some obscure way of catching a cab in China and, not knowing it, I was going to spend the rest of my life on that street corner. Luckily I like Fergie.



Anyway, I was saved by the fact that Chinese school kids LOVE to practice their English on white people. I get about 15 “Hello, how are yous” every time I walk across campus—after which the kids get embarrassed, giggle and run away. We also do a lot of waving—I was passing by a school the other day and about 20 boys in uniform all stopped what they were doing and waved at me. So, just when I resigned myself to taking up residence on the street corner, two school girls came and said “can we help you?” They chased down a cab for me (well, they had to try 4 or 5, but finally got one), told the cab driver where to take me, and then sent me on my merry way. The Walmart visit is anti-climactic after that and even the cab drives--- and if you haven’t been in a Chinese cab, but have been on the Italian Job rollercoaster at King’s Island, just subtract the flaming jet of fire (not that I’m saying that won’t happen on some cab drive) and you have a good idea of what it’s like—although I was very lucky, on the cab ride home, to find one of the few cab drivers in Ningbo who actually knew where the apartment complex was, with the help of a few “taos” and “zai nallies.”

I hope everyone is doing well!