Day In My Life, Part II

Part II

The Hamster

Complete mastery of a language is nigh impossible. Complete mastery is not simply the correct and unerring use of the words and rules of a specific language (shit, spell-check can do that). I have taken a couple of books from my dad’s very snobbish library (although he is actually smart enough to justify such a collection) and started reading them. Mostly I have been engrossed by the short stories of William Faulkner. His command of the English language is breathtaking. He is concise yet eloquent, the ultimate balance in written English. In a sense calling myself an English teacher after reading Faulkner seems inappropriate. Teaching English to Chinese people is simply teaching them how to communicate with someone who speaks English on that person’s terms. It is at its core a convoluted exercise in translation. That is not language. The English language is properly presented on Faulkner’s pages, and its beauty is as important as its meaning. It cannot be translated.

My first class is at a primary school a mere 15-minutes walking from my apartment. After picking up a couple of dumplings, I accelerate to a brisk pace. The cool air is refreshing. The caffeine is starting to kick in, and now I am truly awake. I pass by a succession of small shops selling hot noodles for breakfast. What looks to be the Chinese middle class is clustered around these shops getting bowls of re gan mian, a local noodle specialty. As I arrive at the entrance to the school, the parents and their kids stare. Just another day in China.

Instead of a bell, this school plays an instrumental version of Elton John’s Can You Feel the Love Tonight over the loudspeakers to signal the start of class. This particular class consists of 40 or so first graders. As soon as that tune begins, they scamper to class and start jockeying for seats in exactly the manner you would expect of a first grader. Their Chinese teacher, who assists me when she is not busy on her cell phone, lectures them in a stern voice. Their attention however isn’t with her anymore. They have spotted me lingering outside, waiting for the Chinese teacher to finish her morning duties, and are now pointing and craning to get a better look at the foreign Gulliver. They are all smiling. I can’t help it either. I smirk back at them, then make a funny face outside the window. They roar with laughter. Some of them yell “Hi Seb!” as I poke my head through the door. The Chinese teacher has finished her announcements, and is beckoning for me to come in. Enter stage left.

Being welcomed by first graders is a unique feeling. There is no pretense. There is no formality. There is no courtesy. There is only honesty. I can see their happiness, their excitement. Their smiles, their laughter, their bodies bouncing up and down. All of it is palpable. I love them for that. I greet them with “Good morning, how are you”, and they reply in unison “I’m fine how are you?”, their voices briefly subdued by the rigidity of this exchange they have been forced to memorize. Class begins. Of course they have forgotten everything. But the Hamster runs on.