Understanding the new normal

Life in the United States already feels so far away that it almost seems imaginary – almost on equal plains with Middle Earth or Oz. I hear news from home and think ‘that’s not what I remember happening.’

That’s always the most peculiar part of leaving a place. Whether it was moving to Australia or Italy or Texas or now China, I always seem to expect to be able to hit pause on life back home. Obviously it doesn’t pause, though. A new set of people move into my old house. A new intern occupies my desk. Someone else sits in my favorite worn down seat guzzling coffee at Smokey Row.

But, Guilin has quickly become my new normal, which is odd considering it wasn’t at all what I expect it to be. Especially the teaching.

Things my students taught me

It’s funny that just seven months ago I was complaining about going to my 8 a.m. class every Monday morning. I mean, since then I’ve graduated college, worked at two quasi-adult jobs and moved half-away across the world. And I’m still complaining about getting up for my 8 a.m. class on Monday morning.

Granted, then I was sitting in the back class – usually working on an article rather than absorbing any of the information about political strategy or economics – and now I’m standing in front of a class, teaching 30 plus Chinese university sophomores about English writing.

Because I have no real prior teaching experience – three summers of teaching toddlers to blow bubbles and “do really big scoops” during swim lessons is a far cry from instructing on the intricacies of the English language – there’s a lot of trial and error.

From College to Kindergarten

Boys and girls screaming the chorus of a song dedicated to a peacock with a long tail. A handful of students sobbing over a lack of stickers. A stuffed bunny with a top hat and a waistcoat being launched across the room. A general sense of chaos.

This is just an average day in my classroom.

No, these are not my university students, rather my new kindergarten students.

First months musings

A month ago today I moved into my apartment in Guilin, but it still doesn’t feel real. I half expect to be shaken awake by college roommate, Mallory, every morning saying we need to leave for rowing practice in five minutes.

But no, I awake to the sounds of the neighborhood rooster, – who spends several hours every morning singing the song of his people – the footfalls of the teacher who lives above me and the “cat lady” who meows and hisses at who knows what as she does her morning waddle through the teachers village.

There are 35 foreign teachers – hailing from the United States, England, Wales, Australia, New Zealand, Ukraine, Russia, France and Spain – living within the teachers village, which is a couple small apartment complexes tucked away in the back of one of the universities three campuses.

Because we all live within feet of each other, we all spend so much time together, so it feels like we’re living in the dorms again, save for the fact that there are no creepy freshman roommates. You know, unless you count the many tropical spiders.