Day In My Life, Part III

Part III

Belly of the Beast

Children love at the drop of a hat. It is by far their most beautiful quality. They aren’t skeptical, or wary. They recognize that love should be given to a person who brings them joy. It is the only condition they know, and really, it is the only condition that matters.

Class is 40 minutes long. I spend most of these simply saying words aloud and having the kids repeat them. Anytime I involve any students in what, for China, would be considered an “unusual” classroom activity (i.e. getting them to stand, play games, etc.), their excitement level immediately spikes. Today’s game is no different. Almost all of the students are standing and yelling so that I may call on them. I oblige most of them, and by the time I’ve done that class is over. On my way out they follow me all the way to the school entrance, some giving hugs, some demanding high fives. I wave one last time and then walk home. It’s 9:20.

My next class isn’t until 11:30, which gives me some time to eat and have more caffeine. I make some coffee and some eggs, and then sit down in front of my computer to check my email. I lose track of time, and then realize it is now quarter to eleven. The bus only takes about half an hour to get to DFH, the other Chinese primary school I teach at, but I enjoy getting there early and catching the kids during recess. Recently I’ve been trying to teach a group of boys how to play basketball during this time, but this invariably degenerates into me running around and playing with half of the school’s student body. I don’t mind though. It’s not every day you get to make a lot of people happy.

As a student, you try to convince yourself that teachers are impartial arbiters of academia, simply there to preside over and guide the fair and equal education of all. Shockingly, I have learned that in my case this hypothesis does not hold. I have favorite classes, and I have hated classes. Some students I would consider adopting, some I want to fail just out of spite. In a sense I have come to admire my former teachers for their ability to even make it somewhat believable that they didn’t have favorites. It is fucking hard.

            Luckily for me, the two 3^rd grade classes I teach at this particular school are my favorites, and I am filled with energy. We play games, we laugh, we sing. This lesson is based on ‘I can (verb), I can’t (verb).’ The smart kids get it immediately, and the dumber kids follow their lead. Soon they are one-upping each other with ridiculous things they claim to be able to do, and everybody is in stitches. One boy claims to be able to stand on his head. I decide to call him on it. I march him to the front of the class, and demand that he stand on his head. He gets really quiet and mumbles something in Chinese. He looks embarrassed. I then grab him by the ankles and hold him upside down, with his head barely touching the ground. I express astonishment that he can indeed stand on his head. He roars with laughter, and the other students right along with him. Even the stern Chinese teacher helping me breaks into a smile, then a giggle. As soon as I put him down, everyone else wants a turn. I tell them later. They reluctantly sit down, but they are still beaming. This is when I love the job. This part is fun.