A Day in the Life of a Teacher in China
On my first day of class, less than two days after my midnight arrival in Harbin, China, the chalkboard read, My name is: Cody Batchelor. Just below it appears:
中文：柯迪. The first two characters mean Chinese language (spoken “zhong wen”) and the last two characters represent the Chinese name given to me by my college Chinese professor (spoken “ke di,” similar to my English name). The characters for American are off to the right: 美国人 (spoken “mei guo ren”).
Interestingly enough, the literal translation for these characters is beautiful country person/people.
My students were already transfixed by my foreignness when I entered the room, but once I gave an indication that I could write Chinese, let alone speak it (on a basic level), they hung on my every word. Various camera phones hovered in each row, snapping pictures of the new foreign teacher; the digital clicking sound of camera shutters echoed through the classroom.
While I must admit that I’ve enjoyed a bit of flattery in my short life, nothing quite matched this subtle paparazzi or the regular outburst, “You are so handsome.” The fascination continued with each class—ten in total—for the rest of the week. To this day, I still catch cameras peaking above textbooks or a fellow students head; the shutter sounds connote the guilty. I resort to asking, in Mandarin, for money for each picture. If they think I’m so handsome, my pictures must be worth something, right?
Unfortunately my first class had not chosen (or received) an English name, so before the introductions and the work-in-progress lesson plan, I laboriously assigned a name to each student. The girls wanted simple, pretty names like Karen, Amy, or Rose, whereas the guys wanted names akin to famous NBA players like James, Kobe, and Michael. For later classes that didn’t require this assignment, I simply asked them in Mandarin, Please write your English name, to which they responded with an applause, “Your Chinese is so good,” and careful writing on the attendance sheet.
As any foreign English teacher in a Chinese school will tell you, students will take on rather obscure names. For instance, I teach students named: Green, Rainbow, Dragon, Smile, Fire, and Smalls, to name a few. These are beautiful English word, yet an interesting cultural exchange. You could easily compare it to the preponderance of Chinese characters in body art and the mistaken translation that occurs.
In an impromptu move, I asked them to practice saying their English names by partnering up and sharing a simple greeting. Now I’ve led countless leadership exercises for high school and middle school students where this type of thing requires, maybe, five minutes.
From the blank stares and the clear indication that my directions were not registered, I re-explained by using simple language and drastically slowing down my speech—this turns out to be the most effective strategy for comprehension. Then I circulated through the two rows leading to the back of the classroom, pairing everyone. Finally, after I demonstrated the greeting exercise, they followed suit.
I reserved the last ten minutes for a question and answer session—after receiving quite a few at the beginning of class. They were required to stand up, say their English name, and then ask me any question they wanted. I knew they would enjoy sating their curiosity about my personal life, while inadvertently sustaining their interest (and hopefully respect). One of the first questions I heard in nearly every class was, “Do you have a girlfriend?” I replied, “No,” which sent all of the girls into a cascade of giggles; also I responded in Mandarin, 没有 (spoken “mei you,” meaning, I do not have).
Then they would ask, “Can I have your phone number? “How long have you been in China?” or “Why did you come to China?” One student even asked me to sing a song, so I shared a tone-deaf a cappella of “Amazing Grace.” Ten minutes turned out to be enough time to exhaust their burning questions but not their will to capture a quick photo WITH the new foreign teacher. So at my indication of class’s end, a huddle formed around me with camera phones passing hands to picture-takers and excited students asking to stand next to me.
Now that I've shared a fair account of my first teaching experience here, an explanation of my location, my adjustment to Chinese culture outside of the classroom, and finally my motivations to come to China in the first place are due.
Please go to the next column >>>
Harbin, the capital and largest city of the Heilongjiang province, is located in northeast China. I am separated from the United States by twelve time zones, so morning here is nighttime there.
The region is known for its cold winters courtesy of Siberian winds, giving it the name “Ice City.” During winter, the city hosts a world-renowned ice festival, displaying beautiful ice sculptures and attractions. Hopefully I’ll adjust to the bitter cold by that time to report on the spectacle myself.
After growing up in Monticello where after a few days snow turns to slush, then living in Miami for four years where people have never seen snow or felt a cold below 50 degrees, I must brace for the unexpected come November. The drastic change in temperature won’t be too unexpected; because China is in the northern hemisphere, seasons follow the same pattern as the US. The cold won’t let up until about March.
The local culture reflects a unique intersection of Han (traditional Chinese), Manchu (local), and Russian architecture style, food, music, and customs. Heilongjiang International University is in the Limin Development Zone of Harbin, situated north of the Songhua River—the downtown district stretches along the southern bank.
My adjustment to life here continues to progress. I arrived on Saturday, September 16, so admittedly, after a month, I’ve already experienced cultural fatigue—the disorientation one feels when trying to continue daily patterns outside of familiar customs and social interactions. This has not prevented me from exploring my surroundings and candidly interacting with students and strangers—tax drivers, waiters/waitresses, bus drivers, etc.
A few predispositions have enabled me to overcome the melancholy associated with cultural fatigue, including: keeping an open mind and open expectations, preparing before I go out by writing down directions or instructions in Chinese characters, and venting my frustrations to either my colleagues here or family/friends back at home. While people back home can’t quite relate, I always appreciate the people who care to listen.
Lastly, knowledge of the culture (especially how to use chopsticks!) and personal sense of cultural competence renew my motivation to make the most of this experience. Hopefully by July of next year, when I find my way back home, fulfillment and accomplishment will accompany the stories I will share and the character that I will develop.
If you asked me a year ago what I planned to do after graduating college, I would have told you that I planned to go to law school, but that I also considered other options, such as taking on a full-time job or traveling. One of my close friends and Mandarin classmates spent a semester teaching English in China after she graduated, so I also lent my imagination to the opportunity. Once Spring rolled around, I set my sights on taking a year off. To prepare for a job fair at my university, I researched Ameson Year in China (AYC), an opportunity through the Ameson Education and Cultural Exchange Foundation.
While I didn’t get a chance to attend the job fair and speak with a representative, I completed the application and reserved it as a plan B. The idea of spending a year abroad, expanding my horizons, and pursuing my long-lost goal of fluency in a foreign language grew over the course of graduation and the summer; as the application, vetting, and qualifying process carried on, I decided on a full-fledged commitment to teaching English.
I figured this would be the prime time to travel and explore: I’m young yet mature, unburdened by obligations yet serious about supporting myself financially. The AYC program promised to reimburse travel and visa costs, as well as provide housing! So I figured, if anything, I could make a solid income to support my travels around the country or even to other countries.
I am extremely grateful for the opportunity the News has extended me to compose a monthly feature about my time here in Harbin. Expect details about teaching English as a foreign language, life as a foreigner in China, and my encounters as a young traveler. For regular updates, you can visit http://codyinharbin.tumblr.com. Here I plan to post all sorts of short-form media; it should also post to my Facebook timeline.
If you have any questions you can reach me through the tumblr blog, my Facebook, or my email at codyleeb@gmail. Let me know if you’d like me to explain specific aspects of Chinese culture, taking a gap year, or teaching English as a foreign language.
再见,
Cody