TEFL: Teaching English is Full of Laughter

Here's a list of things that have happened the first week back during my 4th semester that outright has made me laugh and smile.

1. Card Game

Q: What would you do if you lived on the moon?
A: I would pick stars

Q:Would you rather be deaf or blind?
A: I would rather be deaf because to see the world is very important.

Q:Would you rather be rich or beautiful?
A: I would rather be rich so that I can use the money to be beautiful.

2. Mike's Dialogue 

Me: Who in the class has a girlfriend?
Students: (in unison) Mike!
Me: What is your girlfriend's name?
Mike: No
              (laughter)
Me: What is her name?
Students: (in unison) Say the name!
Mike: Mike!
             (laughter)
Me: What. Is. Your. Girlfriend's. Name?
Mike: (in Chinese) Mimi
Students: (translate) It's a secret

3. Tokens

I had a bunch of change lying around my apartment and so I came up with a brilliant method of getting my students to participate during my oral English classes. Every time a student would speak in class, I would give them one penny/dime/quarter that represent points. When I explained what a token was, all the students' faces stretched tall, eyebrows lifted and with enthusiasm they all yelled, "How much money??"
When I told them I needed it back at the end of class, they all gasped and made a sad pouting face. I told my site-mate about this and she called me a capitalist.

4. Adjectives

After giving my students a list of names and a list of adjectives to play a name game so that it could help me remember their names, they chose the names and wrote it down on the attendance sheet. Suffice to say , they misunderstood the activity and I was left with these names:
- Cheerful
- Jelly
- Lovely
- Smiley
- Dizzy
- Wacky
- Witty

5. Stereotypes

After asking the students how can stereotypes be good or bad, I had these vocabulary words written up on the board:
- Stereotype
- Hot Pot
- Obey
- Terrorist Attack
- Stab
- Habit
- "Pointing Fingers"

6. Thank you Moses! 

I've been desperately trying to tell my students that America is diverse and we have many different nationalities, so the whole "All Americans are Christian" is not a true statement. When I asked them if this was true or false, they all said false. I asked them what other religions are there in America. The first thing that they all said was, "Jewish! Just like you." I finally drilled it in their heads. WINNING!

7. Color

Spring, 2013 I taught the Freshman classes. I assigned all of them to color groups that they would belong to for the entire semester. This semester I had a great opportunity to teach the same students I had that year. This is great because the students get used to you, accustomed to your habits and methods of teaching. I handed a piece of paper so that students could write down their names and student ID's. In the background I heard, "Do we write our color groups also?" To many people reading this, you might not get why this is such a big moment for me. Let me explain-this made incredibly happy and proud to know that the students who had me a year ago still remember my class, no matter how minuscule the detail is.

Peer Mentorship Program

For my secondary project I have decided to organize a Peer Mentorship Program in the university I teach in. The students are really in need of some support from their own peers to motivate them to break away from the traditional individualistic success in China.

I have collaborated with 3 Chinese teachers who also teach English and one Psychology teacher to help during training for recruitment and their prospective responsibilities as mentor and mentee.

In the upcoming months we plan to have an orientation session, training, team building events, and our first official member meeting. We need funding to make a solid foundation for the program so that it is truly something stable and the members will feel like they belong to a unique and exclusive organization. With the funding we can create membership cards, a website under the English department, obtain computers to have a secure system to input student information, up-date the website, and have an opportunity for students to interact with other students world-wide through pen-pal.

I really really need everyone's help to support this and donate for the funding to make this happen.

This is the website where you can donate, however big or small, it will tremendously make me happy and proud to know others also care. Thanks in advance!!

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-366-007

Unpredictable Summer Project

So I wasn’t too happy with summer project approaching especially because I had 20 full weeks of teaching during the semester, and a week later I had to teach for another 2 weeks. I’ve never been to Longnan, Chengxian before (it’s only 6 hours away) and the opportunity to see something outside of Lanzhou was my only motivation. Two of the volunteers from our group actually teach exactly where we had the teaching training, and therefore we got to see how their sites were, you know compare and contrast the good and the bad. The first few days were rough because my teaching partner and I had to coordinate classes, find materials, decide what to do for class, etc. We were both in the same boat of teaching for 20 weeks, so we had no time to speak to each other before hand. After a few days, we got the routine and everything seemed to be going great. All of us were looking forward for the weekend (after teaching the morning class) to have some down time. On Saturday we went to a nature reserve spot that was really beautiful. It was a blue sky kinda day with the sun beaming on our backs. What should have been a 2 hour walk up and down the path, turned into a 5 hour hike all around the park. Instead of going back the same way, we decided to go around it where there is all the farm land. Along the way we stumbled upon a massive field of growing cannabis or better known for its other name, marijuana. It’s interesting to see how this is illegal in China, yet they are growing it. It made me feel better that they were using it for other reasons other than getting high though. The next day, two volunteers and I decided to go on a bike ride to see the Du Fu Thatched cottage that honors the Tang Dynasty poet, of the same name. So basically, some pillars of poetry. We started off riding into a dirt pathway that was very rocky, then crossing a bridge and following a narrow path along the river, rocks, waterfalls, and green tall mountains. That right there sounds like a dream, right? Well, IT WAS! We arrived outside of the cottage, and tried to get in for free but the woman would not buy that we were broke volunteers. We continued on our adventure and right before, we reached a tunnel with some pure, cold water coming out of a pipe where all the cars stop to drive under and clean the cars. This was music to our ears because we were on day 4 of no running water in our hotels due to a mudslide earlier that week breaking the main water pipe in town. We blissfully reached our hands to grab some water and splashed it all over us. The pathway was covered in mud and rocks and it started raining heavily but that didn’t stop us. I did have an, “this is a bad idea” moment when my bike was going down-hill and I couldn’t control it due to not having workable breaks and having a dinky bike that was posing as a mountain bikes to relieve my psyche. My two friends were in front of me and I was yelling, “No breaks, no breaks, no breaks” and then I forced myself to fall right onto my left but cheek. Miraculously, I didn’t get one scratch. I picked myself up and just kept going, not having a care in the world. We reached what seemed to be a dead end in front of another bridge. We were standing on that bridge thinking the whole time that we were in China, biking along gorgeous scenery in the middle of nowhere, in the rain. This was our life for 3 hours. It was probably one of the best moments and day I have had (Seeing Mt. Everest wasn’t too shabby either) in my full year in China. We rode back into town, dried ourselves up, went out to dinner and came back to Alice’s apartment to learn some calligraphy from her students. At the end of the day, I thought “Wow, nothing went wrong today, it was perfect.” I slept like a sound baby and woke up about 45 minutes before I had to teach. I got up, and sat next to the desk and was checking my FB when all the sudden I hear the furniture intensely move upstairs. Then, the room starts swaying back and forth, the TV stand starts wobbling away from the wall and the mirror is beating the wall back and forth. It took me a few seconds to register that there was an earthquake happening at that very moment. I ran to stand between the doorway of the bathroom, and within a few seconds it all stopped. I stood there shaking, with that dizzy morning headache feel when you wake up and stand too fast. Alice called me right away and we were both exchanging stories and confirming that indeed there was a freaking earthquake! I immediately got dressed and headed downstairs. As I was approaching the lower levels I saw the cracks on the walls getting bigger and bigger. You would think after having some volunteers experiencing their first real earthquake (like me!) the teaching training would be cancelled for at least that morning. Not in Peace Corps, apparently. We all strolled into class like nothing happened and continued teaching. An hour in the lesson, I was standing in between the doorway while the students were doing an activity, when all of the sudden the students just got up and trampled me over, running outside the building. Luckily we were on the very first floor. This time I didn’t feel it, but the aftershock definitely made our students nervous. After standing outside for about 5 minutes, we went back inside. Every windy swing of the door slamming, a person running down the stairs or a desk moving the students would quiver and jump up. It is amazing to me how inconsiderate the officials were to the students and us to not have cancelled the stupid class and just said, ok take some time to calm down. My heart was speeding so fast after my students ran all over me, that the entire class I was paranoid that something else would happen. The epicenter of the earthquake was in Dingxi, a small district in Gansu Province that killed 75 people, to date. Many of the volunteers’ students are from there and once we were ok, we were concerned about them. Anna and I joked that the day before was such a perfect day, that China simply wouldn’t have it, and so the earthquake happened. Even now, some of us are traumatized and keep waking up in the middle of the night waiting for another one. There are 2 more days left until we end teaching training and it is definitely not one of those times that you say, “Damn, I really wish I stayed a little bit longer.”

“Do they sell aluminum foil and cinnamon in hell? ….No, they sell MSG”

After promising her students that she would make 50 cookies, Anna and I met up to buy the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.  Not knowing how to say certain ingredients in Chinese we looked up the words on Google translate and wrote them down. We arrived at the supermarket and went to the back in hopes of finding sugar. Anna grabbed a packet of what seemed to be crystallized sugar that read, “Lotus Flower” and had Chinese characters underneath it. Next, Anna joyously asked a woman to assist us in finding baking powder and vanilla extract. After showing the woman our Google translate words, ever so sure of herself-absolute no hesitation , walked to the other side, bent down and happily gave us a small, hard bag that read, “Instant drying yeast”. I looked at Anna and told her that it wasn’t what we needed, but being hopeful, she grabbed it and put it with her other odd ball collection of ingredients. As we’re walking to the cashier I read Anna’s mind about needing aluminum foil. What should have been like a half an hour run to the supermarket, turned out to be a 3 hour quest to find aluminum foil. We hit every convenience store, and we just kept finding the one thing we didn’t need- plastic wrap. The whole time, we were waiting on Sarah to meet up with us and grab dinner, but she wasn’t answering her phone. So not only did we have to find this damn aluminum foil, we had a missing volunteer whose phone was off and was supposed to be with us 3 hours ago. We went back to Anna’s apartment in hopes that Sarah would be waiting there. 2 Minutes after we walk in, Sarah knocks on the door.

 My first question to her was, “How do you say aluminum foil in Chinese??”  She looks it up on her phone and it says, “Lubo”. For fuck’s sake, such a simple word for such a complicated item. Now for the rest of the service in China, that will be the one word I will always remember. The three of us went out to get something to eat, and Anna was still convinced that there would be aluminum foil in a random convenience store, but she had no such luck. It was just odd to us that it was hiding, or no one knew what we were talking about when we kept saying lubo. It’s as if it was hidden in a magical tunnel, like it was some kind of prized item that no one could have. It reminded me how I could never find cinnamon when I wanted to make ginger tea. I followed all of Anna’s steps, and wrote down what it was in Chinese. I even had a duel language, visual dictionary to show the people and they looked at me like I was making it up. My mother’s friend sent me a package last semester and in it was a cinnamon packet because word got around I couldn’t find any in China. The aluminum foil must be where the cinnamon is hidden, it just has to be. After giving up, Anna derived a plan to mix the cookie batter in a rice bowl and cook them on a dumpling steamer. On top of that, a brilliant idea came to mind to bake them over the stove, as the other ones were cooking in a small toaster oven. This made perfect sense, because after all, hard boiling eggs and making popcorn in a tea kettle totally worked out just fine the other day. I trusted her instincts. It was turning out pretty well, and looked like delicious cookies that even smelt like cookie dough.  All of a sudden I hear, “fuck, shit, fuck omg, fuck” Sarah and I both looked at each other and ran to the kitchen.  We both tried a small piece of the grilled cookie and simultaneously spit it out like it was venom. 

Sarah picked up the sugar package that said “Lotus Flower” and read the characters underneath. “You poured a whole package of MSG!!”  

Me: “I told you it was odd it had ‘lotus flower’ on it!”

Anna: “Yea but I saw a ‘lotus flower sugar’ on it too”

Me: “So why didn’t you get that instead?”

Anna: “The other one was cheaper”

Me: “Well, that’s what you get for being cheap” ]

Anna: “Yea, a cancer cookie. It always felt brown to me, I thought MSG was brown.”

 If sugar was MSG, what was baking soda?? Anna looked over to Sarah and asked, “Can you tell me if this is baking soda?”, as she threw the packet over to Sarah. Sarah looked at the package, leaned back and then pulled herself up again, and as she tried forming sentences, she started to laugh with each word. “This is instant drying yeast, it says it right here in clear English.” After Anna sent her students a text saying she didn’t make the cookies, a student responds, “It’s ok, we know you tried your best. Thanks so much.” Under her breath she whispers, “My best was trying to kill them… and I failed.”

That package is hanging on her wall now, with a note that says “Never, ever buy this  ever again”

…Yet another brilliant evening with Lanzhou’s finest response volunteers. I enjoy every moment of it. If I ever feel shitty, I’ll just keep this conversation in my pocket and pull it out when I need a good hard laugh and the world will be just right again. 

The Police Station

I was sitting on a bed in an office, belonging to one of the police man , looking around. The room was cold with dirty walls, two wooden desks facing each other and two beds next to each other on the parallel wall. I felt like I was in an episode of Dexter and that was his secret hiding spot where he  kills and then goes to sleep, satisfied. To my left was a chair. It was a 20^th century torture chair with hands and legs chains. My friend and I both looked at each other with disbelief and we only had one thought in mind, “Take a picture!” My friend pulled out his phone and aimed it at the chair. The police man was trying to spit out an English word, when he finally said “forbidden”. My friend didn't listen and just kept aiming his phone on the chair until he got a clear picture. Without a care in the world, the police man just kept writing things down. At this point we had waited 40 minutes for a man from the foreign affairs department to come. 

Richard finally showed up. He was the only one who was able to speak English. He knew Peace Corps and my Waiban, Zhou. He pointed at my friend and said, “You know me!” My friend was a bit confused, when Richard interrupted and stated that he came to Lanzhou University last year to do an orientation on safety and policy to all the foreigners. Then, he also told me he knew me and we had met before at the Gansu Foreign Provincial Day. He started to work for Peace Corps about 6 years ago and his first case was the stabbing of the American-Asian volunteer in Lanzhou. More men started trickling in just to see the two foreign sitting ducks and were curious to speak to us, except for one guy. He was the chief officer of the police station. When he asked Richard a question in Chinese, my friend laughed at the comment when I asked him to translate. The chief officer said, “If she can’t speak Chinese how the hell is she teaching English?” In which I told my friend to translate, “In my first two months in China, I learned how to bargain, buy my own shit, ask for directions, and tell people what I do, where I’m from,  what my parents do and what I like. You've been learning English since you were 5 and can’t speak one word of it. How the hell are you not ashamed of yourself?” Just kidding, I wish he told him that! At that point I was just fed up with the whole situation and starving that I wanted to walk out.  Richard got off the phone with Zhou, and apparently told him to come. When I asked why, he told me that it would be better if Zhou got here to go over the documents. 

We were moved to another room across the hall where another man was sitting, but he actually looked like a police man. There we were the six of us sitting and staring at each other for yet another hour waiting for Zhou. They were asking me questions about where, how and why it happened. Not word for word, the guy was writing it down. In between lines they would state comments based off of assumptions. For example, “Oh, the two of you were on a date, well it’s a memorable one now!”, “It’s a good thing your boyfriend was there to translate, he can teach you Chinese” , “The two of you look like you match as a couple”. Then after all the paper work was done, I had to stamp with my index finger and red ink on the lines of each statement, including the one where “I’m with my boyfriend”. To piss me off, my friend was joking around that it’s official, and I even fingered it. To make matters worse, my Waiban finally showed up only to take me back home. This poor man was called in the middle of the night to get to the police station that’s so out of his way just to pick me up and safely bring me back home. He looked at me and my friend and said, “When you said you were with a friend that spoke Chinese really well, I thought it was Sarah”. Then I had to tell him that I couldn’t go home because we still had to meet our friends that we were supposed to see 3 and a half hours ago. When we got to his car, I finally got to meet his fiance (which let’s face it, was probably not the happiest woman in the world). He gave us a ride to where our friends were, and we finally arrived at the bar that we then left from 20 minutes later because it was closing.

So, what was it exactly that happened to me that I had to spend 3.5 hours in the police station, you ask?

My wallet was stolen. My Chinese debit card, my American debit card and cash is all gone.  If there is one thing you must know about China it’s that if your belongings are stolen or lost, save the tears and move on because there is no Chinese person with a soul that will give it back to you.

Yesterday was Women’s Day- a big deal for Russians. A good friend wanted to hang out and just take me out on a friendly dinner. Despite the fact that I spent all day at home, there was something in my gut telling me not to go. However, I brushed it off and just decided to go. I took a taxi to meet up at Lanzhou University. Apparently I have a tendency to lose my cell phones in the taxis by not checking twice before getting out. I didn’t want the same thing happening to my money so I took out 20 yuan, put it on my lap, closed the wallet and put it back in my purse and zipped it up. I had the 20 yuan in my hand ready to pay. When we arrived to my stop I handed the 20 yuan, got change, put it in my pocket and walked out as another person was getting in. I was waiting to cross the street and I finally got to the other side and we took a bus from there. When I sat down I opened up my purse and noticed my wallet was missing. We got off at one of the stops where there was a police station nearby. My friend knows Chinese very well and was translating for me about what happened. The guy suggested going to the main bus terminal and looking at the cameras to see if someone stole it. How that would exactly help, is beyond me. The person already must have gotten off by the time we got to main bus terminal, and you can’t really track anyone down in China unless that person is a foreigner. We go there anyway, and a woman calls the police for us in order to report the theft. A car finally comes. On the outside it definitely looks like a police car, but when I get in it looks like a regular car. There are no bars to separate the front and the back; however, all taxis in Lanzhou have those bars. 

The guy driving is dressed in casual wear -a red sweater and jeans. I turn to my friend and say, “Can this man be trusted,?”, he responds with a, “Well right now people are seeing 2 foreigners in a police car, and they are probably thinking,  ‘can they be trusted?’ so basically, we’re screwed’ "

So lesson of the day, if you have a gut feeling to not leave your house- follow it! 

Going Under The Knife

Here it is- the dreaded blog about my experience in the hospital. After you read this, you will appreciate American hospitals and it will make you kiss the floor of your hospital in the states.

Over the weekend I began to sleep terribly, not really knowing why. I felt a hole in my stomach, but the kind where it feels like you’re hungry. So I ate oatmeal and drank some tea, hoping it would do the trick. Tuesday I had class in the morning, went to lunch, and started grading papers and BAM! The hole in the stomach feeling came back, much worse. I went to my office and crawled up on the couch, couldn't move.  I called my doctor in Chengdu and she told me she would get my Waiban to get medicine. 20 minutes later, I started throwing up into a bucket full of water. I’m not gonna add any more details to that, because you can probably imagine the splashing of my own vomit. Oops! Well, there’s the full detail. Sorry!  Nearly 3 hours later, I finally mustered the courage to walk out the building and take the bus. Worst idea EVER. The bumping and the traffic did not help the situation. I started feeling slightly better after throwing up, although I still felt nauseous.

My Waiban finally showed up with a box of medicine and a big bottle of Coke. Now, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure when someone has a stomach ache the last thing they need is a bottle full of gas. Right? But, in true Chinese fashion, the opposite verdict is the correct one.  I reached for the medicine and my Waiban stopped me saying only take it if it gets really bad. I thought, “huh?? It’s already really bad, like at the worst state” I called my doctor, being really confused. To this day, I have no idea why I didn't take the medicine that she clearly prescribed to give me. I couldn't really do anything about it because it was all in Chinese, and if I swallowed too many pills I’d probably be in the hospital for an accidental overdose, instead of the true cause. It seemed that the symptoms were subsiding.

Then I started experiencing excruciating stomach pain at 2:00am. Not only that, my whole left side was swollen, my rib cage was bulging out and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stand, lie down, or even sit. I didn't know what to do. Calling anyone at that hour would have been so much effort. I waited it out, pacing around my apartment hunching over and holding on to my stomach, like I was in labor. I have to say, I love having my own apartment but when you’re in need of help, living alone is possibly the worst feeling.  Several hours later, I texted my doctor saying I needed help. I found that if I sat, I would be in less pain. So there I was on my couch, exhausted, in pain, waiting for a call. Around 6:30am my doctor finally called and said I needed to go to the hospital. You would think going to the hospital in desperate time of need, would be super easy- just hail a cab, get in and arrive at the hospital. Wrong! In China it works like this, “Just wait” The procedure is that the doctor calls the Waiban, the Waiban comes with a school car to pick you up and takes you to the hospital. I asked my site mate, Erin to go with me since I was in no condition to speak for myself or even ask questions. The Waiban was too busy to come so he called my counterpart Sally, from the school. An hour later, I was on my way to the hospital.

Here is where the true horror story begins.

Number 1 Hospital of Lanzhou University is considered the best hospital in Lanzhou. If that’s the best hospital, I would really, really hate to see the worst one. I've been to that hospital back in August with my site mate for a brief time, but I wasn't the one getting examined. It’s an entirely different story when you are the one under the microscope. I was in the waiting room of a hallway that’s named “The Resuscitation Area”. Erin and Sally were sitting next to me when Sally started asking questions about the possessive “S”. When someone is in the hospital, it’s not really an appropriate time to ask questions about English grammar. Erin was getting annoyed and I was just so out of it, I didn't bother to care.

 Next, I was brought into a small room with a man working on the computer and a small examination bed. There were other people there with tickets, standing in line to give it to the man. The man would input the information in the computer and send them elsewhere. When the nurse came in, they kicked everyone out and told me to lie on the bed. They poked around and said nothing. Sally and the nurse were talking in Chinese and then Sally would ask me questions about what happened during the night, when did it start happening and what was I feeling. She started mumbling something in English that I couldn't quite understand with hand gestures placed on her mouth. It sounded something like this, “When you throw up, I mean the other side?”  I turned to Erin, and before I even said anything Erin jumped in and assumed she was asking about diarrhea. I told them no, just vomiting and stomach pain. Sally persisted on asking Erin about English vocabulary and grammar. “What is another word?” “poop” “po? Pooooop?” She continued to say it under her breath, repeatedly over and over again. I was smiling because Erin’s face told a story about this Chinese woman who would not shut up and would be killed at any given moment. 

Later, I was taken to get an ultrasound. In china, the protection shield thingy they use to put on your stomach when you get an ultrasound is non-existent. They took one picture and were done with me. The inside of the hospital, as soon as you enter is designed like a circle. As I waited outside of the room, I was looking downstairs to the rush of people coming in and out. There were other patients when the doctor came out and placed the picture above his head to the light and spoke in Chinese. I had no idea what was going on. I walked back to the resuscitation area and was taken to the out-patient room. I would end up staying in that room until 10 at night. Sally told me there was a problem with my intestine and I needed treatment in the hospital. O.K not the worst thing. My blood was taken, and apparently they have a shortage of band aids because they just pressed the opening with a cue tip and threw it on the floor. ON THE FLOOR! And I was just bleeding dry. Then, I was hooked up to an IV bottle and couldn't eat or drink as long as I was on it. Between all the bottles I had numerous teachers come and go to be by my side. One was pregnant and shared the story of her pregnancy loss last year, the other just started working for the school. It was her second day and she was forced to come to the hospital. Lucky me, huh? After 7 bottles of IV fluid, not sleeping all night, being in pain and not drinking or eating for the whole day you can imagine I had no energy to talk to anyone, especially slow English so that other people could understand me. Then the dean, my Waiban and another person working for the foreign affair department showed up. They grilled me about my eating habits and claimed this happened to me because I need to cook for myself and not eat out all the time. I just nodded and didn't even try to argue.

For different shifts, I had different doctors come and poke me some more. They pressed on my bottom right abdomen and I nearly kneed the doctor. I lost count on how many bottles I had, but one in particular was killing me. It was the biggest one yet, and the rate that it was going into my veins was super slow. The potassium chloride was the strongest and if they made it flow any faster it would hurt my hand. Regardless, it did just that. I started complaining about it but it just had to be over and done with. I was then asked to walk to get a CAT scan. There was no IV crane to place it and make walking easy, so another nurse had to hold it, and walk beside me. There was another teacher with me. On the way, I was in the elevator and looked down to my arm, I saw blood rising in the IV and it hurt like hell. All of the sudden, I get a call from the doctor in Chengdu asking me how I am, I handed the phone to the nurse because I felt something was wrong and the next thing I know, I fainted. The teacher was holding my other arm to lift me up, I felt really dizzy and I couldn't see anything in front of me. All I saw were yellow dots as they held me and made me continue walking down the hallway to the CAT scan. After the CAT scan, I was seated while a nurse came to take my blood pressure. They finally had some sense and wheeled me back to the out-patient area and not have me walk!

Around 4:30 pm they told me that I needed surgery because it was appendicitis, even though the CAT scan did not visibly show any symptoms of it. I thought their diagnosis was all wrong because my pain was on my upper left side.

I turned to the doctor and said , “But my pain is here” (pointing to my left side). He told me “Symptom is there but disease is here” Baffled I yelled, “Call my doctor !” His response was, “I am a doctor” With a really frustrated voice I said, “No, I mean my doctor from Chengdu. Call her!”

Soon enough, I received a call from my doctor saying she is taking a flight to Lanzhou to examine the situation. She finally arrived, and after hours of talking to the doctors and making phone calls, the final say was that it was in fact appendicitis. I even received a phone call from a guy in Thailand who is responsible for all of Asia medical emergencies to confirm it. So yea, my first surgery ever and it was in China.

Around midnight I was taken into the surgery room. I was still fully clothed and as they wheeled me on the bed, I leaned up and noticed there was dry blood on the sheet that I was suppose to have surgery on. So note to self- burn all the clothes when you get back home. The room had about 5 male doctors, 2 mainly who spoke English. One guy just kept bombarding me with questions about my thoughts on Chinese hospitals, and even accused me that I didn't trust them well enough. Way to make a girl feel safe! I felt that I was just a prized possession to them and they could finally operate on an American to boost their resume. They then had to stick a needle in my knuckle so that the fluid would go in and knock me out. I wasn't freaked out until they failed numerous attempts on getting the needle in. They called in a female nurse from another department to do it. My leg started shaking and I became really nervous at how disastrous this might end. After the nurse succeeded, 2 seconds later my eyes closed and I saw darkness. 

"Bella, Bella? Wake up, Bella?" I was woken up maybe 2 hours later by 8 Chinese floating heads and Erin looking down at me. I felt slight pain and looked down and I was still in my clothes. I stayed in the hospital for 3 days in which during that time I had many student and teacher visitors. Because I couldn't shower, the students would clean my back and face with wet cloth. I needed help going to the bathroom because squatting after surgery was no easy task. The one thing I was really shocked about was that there was no soap in the bathrooms. One day, the doctor came in and said I needed to start walking around the hallway and that I needed to get a bowl movement. To help me, he further explained that I needed to use an enema. For those who do not know what that is, it's used to shoot liquid up your anus in order to unclog and get you to have a bowl movement. One student who was with me, listening in on the whole conversation, stated, " Oh, when I was in the hospital my mother helped me with that. I can also help you because it is very difficult". Did my student just offer to help me with an enema?? That's where I drew the line! I remembered my mother had snuck a laxative into my luggage before coming to China so I went to the bathroom and just chucked the enema in a garbage can and waited maybe 15 minutes so that they would think I did it. 

Phew, 3 days later and I was back at my apartment. The students came and made rice porridge, cleaned the house and took care of me. My counterpart told me that she was really surprised by me. When I asked why she continued to tell me that she thinks I was really brave, and the fact that I didn't complain at all, cry, or was sad showed that I was really independent. She also said that if her daughter was in that situation, she wouldn't act like me. At least this awful experience has earned me some brownie points with my counterpart :) 

Athena

I was beginning to wonder if I would ever distinguish personalities in China. Why do they all act the same, like robots?  Is it a cultural thing? Is it because I’m a foreigner and they have to act a certain way? Do I not understand their body language or facial expressions?  I had no clue. But Athena, she’s different. She’s not your average Chinese woman. She enjoys drinking, and rightfully admitting so. She teaches about western culture, she’s loud, she’s got her voice amped up to 10 and isn't afraid to show it. She’s confident and she tells the truth, and tells it like it is. By nature she’s 100% Chinese but by nurture, an American.  

The first time I met her was when I was in the hospital for my surgery. It was her second day working for the University and was assigned to slave away (by that I mean rotate with other teachers) in the hospital to look after me. At that point, I was still lying down at the "resuscitation area", having no energy to speak to anyone. I thought “ok, I’m in this bed for another 10 hours and got like 5 more bottles of IV fluid, so I might as well speak to someone”.

 I was expecting to speak slowly so she could understand my English (and trust me it’s exhausting), when she suddenly spoke. I was shocked at how great she sounded speaking English. Most Chinese teachers who speak English do not have good oral English, at all. I got excited because I could finally speak at a normal speed. She actually used words like, “lame” and “sissy”. Athena is someone who knows modern day English and didn't use British English like students who say, “what a pity”. She’d shared her background and how she traveled to the States back in ’07 for 3 months to visit her brother who willingly left to work for an American company because he hated the system in China.  She graduated with a master’s in English Education from Lanzhou University (considered one of the best) and has been teaching since then for 2 years. I was so happy there was a Chinese teacher in our school that could really be a benefit for the students. As I was grilling her, I found out the ugly truth. She wasn't teaching in our school, she was just a worker: working in the reference room to check-in/out books for teachers.

In a confused voice I said, “WHAT??, I’m sorry I must have misunderstood… what do you mean you are not teaching?”

“Yea, the dean isn't hiring any teachers right now but said he needed someone in the reference room and that in 2 years I can start teaching”.

There it is. Such a shame and waste of ability. Giving a mindless job that is designed for a 60 year old woman who doesn't quite want to retire yet to a 32 year old who has experience, great credentials, and great English. I didn't get it but I didn't ask any more questions because it was too depressing and I didn't want to upset her any more than she already was. After the surgery we exchanged phone numbers and promised we’d go grab a drink when I got better. When I came back to teaching I went to visit her in the reference room. I wasn't kidding when I said a mindless job. She just sits there all day, for 9 hours playing games on the computer or reading books waiting for someone to come in and take out a book. For the weeks to follow I was really busy catching up with all of the grading and lesson planning that I haven’t spoken to her for a while.

Yesterday (12.27.12) she text-ed me telling me that my final score for my writing exam was 105 and that it needed to be changed. Not even realizing that she dealt with any of that sort of business, I went down to the reference room. After revising my final (because God forbidden these kids actually receive an extra 5 points) Athena invited me out for dinner, drinks and a favor. Ahhh ha! A favor, it’s starting! But because I liked her so much, I said yes. After work, we went to eat. While we were walking to the restaurant, she asked me why I didn't go home for the holidays. I told her it didn't bother me because Christmas is not a big deal for me since I don’t celebrate it. When I told her I am Jewish, I didn't get the typical response that I always do. She asked, “Oh, do you keep kosher? I actually taught about Judaism to my students in Chongqing”.  At that moment, I seriously fell in love with her! We discussed how students and individuals in general are so naive in China. They are censored about learning other religions and in the end the Government is just making their people very ignorant.  During dinner we also had some interesting conversations. She’s the only Chinese woman I feel comfortable asking about things you would normally talk over with your girlfriends. She’s very open and speaks her mind. All of those questions I had from last month about why she couldn't get a better job were finally answered. Some universities are owned by the federal government, and it is very difficult to get a teaching job, unless you know someone (Wink, wink) “You have to sell something really expensive or sell your soul to get a job, that’s how things work in China. That’s why my brother left.” She was actually thinking about getting her doctorate while working, but you have to gain permission from the dean. Urgh! Another ridiculous rule. Just like me, she’s very observant and said that the dean notices that she’s not like the other women. He’s possibly even intimidated by her knowledge and good English that he’s robbing her of an opportunity that would be really beneficial for the students.

After dinner we walked to her apartment. The favor that she asked for was me editing her translation of an essay written by an 80 year old Chinese man who was explaining the concept of Tai Chi through the Big Bang. Her home was a modern take with a fusion of Asian style. She’s obsessed with plants and flowers and has little souvenirs all around her apartment. Her husband has his own room for calligraphy and she has her own room for her extensive collection of books. We looked over pictures of her wedding and her travels in the States from Milwaukee (where her brother lived), Salt lake city, Mount Rushmore, Niagara Falls, Las Vegas, Los Angles  New York, and so many more! We were sipping tea and talking about Russian authors like Chekhov and Dostoevsky  It was a good, spontaneous day spent with an intellectually stimulating person who finally, finally  knows what Judaism is.  I sincerely hope that she will get an opportunity to teach soon because students can actually learn a lot and need her to have some common knowledge.