Chicken Soup for the Chinese Soul

**Warning: Cheese and rambling ahead**

I didn't really have anything to give my students a final exam on. We had done work throughout the semester, but most of the "English" lessons were really lessons on something else, improving our English as we went along. Instead I decided to have short 1-on-1 meetings with my students to discuss what they learned and enjoyed from the class. It would also be a way for me to get feedback without having to read 30 surveys with such helpful comments as "more movies!" etc.

Most of my students did quite well. They understood the concepts I had tried to teach them, even though some of the ideas were deep and analytical, requiring my students to think, which as we all know, the Chinese aren't big on. Everyone said that they weren't too keen on my class at 1st (and neither was I, if you'll recall), but that ultimately, they really got a lot out of it. It was funny, the students who didn't really "get it" suggested that next year I use more games, and the students who "got it" said the games were the most boring part of the semester. The majority of the class was of the latter mindset. A few even told me they'd like to talk with me about these topics further, and nearly all of them asked if I could be there teacher next year. As a teacher, knowing that my students a) learned and b) want me back, this was pretty much the best response I could have gotten.

And then there was David. David had only been able to attend the first day of class because of another class that he was taking at the same time. How is this possible or acceptable? Yeah, idk, but I'm still expected to test and pass him. As I've said before, I'm not one for mandatory attendance, but this was not a history lecture, this was oral English. How is he expected to improve his oral English, and how am I supposed to test him on his improvement, if he is EXPECTED by the administration of the university to not show up to my class?

David was not the only student like this; I had 3 or 4, but most other students had at least sent me an email or 2, which suggested they had at least spoken to their classmates about what was going on. David hadn't, and he knew it. Which is why he showed up with a giant piece of butcher paper with verticle Chinese caligraphy, hand painted himself, which sung of mountains and trees and beauty and wisdom (or something. That's pretty much every piece of Chinese poetry is about, no joke). Although I had walked into this interview with a negative attitude, this of course improved things. So, I began his interview with a series of Thank you's and a smile.

"So, let's begin. I know you were unable to attend class this term, but I'd still like to hear your thoughts, what you learned, what you thought was most significant, etc."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I hate English. I hate America." My grin turned into a scowl faster than you can say Chinese Communist Party.

"Well maybe if you had showed up for class, like, once, you would know that not only is that incredibly judgmental, but not even what we talked about in class. It's clear you never once paid attention to the readings and homework assignments (that you didn't do, btw), as I made it clear that my focus was not teaching you the superior ways of America, but was each culture is different, including the way we use the language, so therefore, intercultural communication is far more complex than words and grammar. You're an idiot and have given me no reason not to fail you right here."

Juuuust kidding. In reality, my face froze as I calmly said, "Well... why do you say that?" He was my last interview of the evening, so I took my time with him. What transpired was a conversation that lasted over an hour, delving into David's misconceptions of America, as well as his concerns and fears he had for his own country. Ok, so the kid was kind of emo, but it was refreshing to hear an honest, at least somewhat unique, voice coming from this young Chinese man.

He didn't like America because it was violent. All the movies portray America as a violent, shameless place, and this must be somewhat true, as real life events (shooting at Virginia Tech, invasion of Iraq) prove that America quickly skips over any intellectual alternatives and turns straight to violence as the solution to everything. What was America really like, he asked, and how can the people of China possibly understand the real daily lives of Americans if all they see is a quick-triggered, God-fearing, cowboy president (his view, not mine)? Without a continuous open dialogue between people like the two of us, David failed to see how we could possibly ever understand eachother.

I was careful with my response. I'm always honest with my students, but I try to put things delicately. I asked if he was familiar with the "...walk a mile in his shoes" concept. I told him that this semester we talked about culture, that it was like an iceberg, and that talking about food and music of America really only scratches the surface. Instead of teaching my students about the culture specifically, I focused on teaching them how to perceive a culture. How we should try to look at cross-cultural situations objectively, realizing that culture can cause all sorts of unintentional conflicts.

I reminded David that there are good things and bad things about every culture, and that what he sees is not always an accurate depiction of America. I understand how difficult it is to differentiate, just as it's difficult for most Americans to think of China as anything other than what America see of China in movies and on the news: crowded, polluted, and communist, product recalls and child labor, the Great Wall of China, and sake, sushi, and Geisha girls (oh, are those Japanese? same thing). I asked David if Chinese movies showed the "real" China. Of course not, he said. I told him about the recent headlines China was making overseas. Do these give Americans a solid understanding of "real" Chinese people? No. Same thing for the US.

David asked if I'd seen the "real" China yet. I said I hoped I had. Certainly more than my peers in the states, and I like to think that I've had some moments here that have revealed to me a tiny peak of "real" China. David said I'd never see the real China in Jinan. The people in Jinan, he said, they're the lucky ones. They don't live in a tiny village, and they don't have to worry about dying from polluted water or having their homes razed by the government. That was the real China, he said. I told you, the kid was emo, but I was happy to listen to what he had to say. He spoke as if he had only recently discovered that alternatives to the Chinese way of life existed and was now questioning his own beliefs. He said he felt betrayed by his country and saw only the negative aspects of his world. I told him it was good to acknowledge the negative, that making progress in the world is impossible without recognizing the problems that exist, but that it was so much better for him, and for the people he sympathized with, that he also recognize the positive, and consider means by which we could begin to improve things.

So many people in China are starving, barely surviving, he said. How can they improve their lives, when they don't have the opportunity to think beyond their next meal? The only people who have time to worry about bigger issues are the ones who end up with all the money, anyway.

I've spent a lot of time over the past semester attempting to discover the secret ingredient, what it is exactly that makes things in China so inherently different from home, and I often overlook something very basic. "Forgive the doe-eyed idealism," I told David, "but I really think that in China and in the US, we all just want to do the best we can. We want to put food on our table and offer a better life for our kids than we had." I certainly don't put forth my best effort every day, but I'm here in China to improve myself. I want the opportunity to celebrate the positive and analyze the negative in myself and the world. I told David not to give up hope on the world quite yet, and that I'd be happy to listen if he wanted to talk again.

I hung up the caligraphy David had made me. I'm not quite sure what it says exactly, but it reminds me of the conversation we had, and I'm sure whichever quote from Confucius (or whoever) it is, it couldn't be much better than that.