So here is a typical day in the life of Jac Laoshi. I wake up between the hours of 6:15 and 7 a.m. depending on how much of a frenzy I feel like being in as I scramble to work. (Interesting side note, China does not have Daylight Savings Time so the sun rises at five thirty or some such nonsense. This also means that the entire country is on the same time zone. People in Tibet must still be waiting for the sun to rise at 8. a.m. or something.) After waking up, I then lay in bed and dream about the next time I will get to enjoy some sleep. After about three minutes of this, I drag myself out of bed eat, dress, languish in front of my computer for a while, then put my iPod earbuds in and start the journey down the six flights of stairs.
On the way out of my complex, I awkwardly offer a “Good morning” or “Zao,” (depending on if I remember what country I’m currently in) to the four or five security guards. They awkwardly nod their heads or pretend not to see me, which I really don’t mind, since I sometimes pretend to be really absorbed in whatever I’m doing on my iPod. I then start the fifteen or twenty minute journey to school.
This involves a series of events that could potentially culminate with me smeared across the pavement, so I have to pay attention. One event is attempting to pass the slow meandering type of Chinese person who has nowhere to actually be and enjoys weaving across the entire walkway. They are extremely difficult to get around and somehow always manage to catch up with you at every traffic light despite their lackadaisical pace. Another event is avoiding the soapy water spray of the street cleaning vehicles. While standing on the curb waiting for the street lights to change, I must always be alert to the fact that I could suddenly end up in the splash zone of such a vehicles. Occasionally, these ninja trucks come out of nowhere and even the most skilled of Chinese people cannot avoid the inevitable dousing. It’s lovely. But, one of the more particularly dangerous events is Human Frogger. The most dangerous level of this game is played right in front of the American Consulate on a street that not only has ridiculous fast buses and cars, but an enormous amount of bikes and mopeds. My success rate so far is 100%. Hopefully, I will manage to maintain this record because, really, who wants to die knowing those Chinese guards outside the Consulate are judging you for you lack of ability to cross a street. This brings me to the last event, deciding whether to smile or just ignore the Chinese guards outside the Consulate. Wunan Kindergarten shares a gargantuan fence with the Consulate, so I’ve started to recognize and even name some of the guards (Nerdy, Serious Dude, Strangely Muscular Man, The Angry One Whom I Should Avoid Eye Contact With At All Costs, etc.) . Each day, there they are. All serious and stare-y. That’s all they do. Stare. And stare some more. It’s slightly unnerving. I did actually get one to smile once and felt like I’d tricked him into singing the American National Anthem.
Once I pass the Consulate, I arrive at Wunan! Here I am greeted by some music playing over the loud speakers. I wish I could describe this music to you, because it’s amazing. It’s communist to the core and always makes me feel like I should be marching off to fight in some revolution. By now it’s usually 8:15 and my day starts. From 8:15 to 9 a.m., myself and the chinese teacher in my current class greet and play with the kids as we wait for them all to show up. Depending upon which class I’m in, I usually spend my time reviewing English with the students or prying them away from their parents of whom they refuse to let go. Between 9:15 and 9:30, I begin to teach or attempt to teach my lesson. My older kids (by this I mean 3-4, instead of the younger class, who are also 3-4. Confused? Me too.) are usually awesome. They’re so smart, speak great english and are actually enjoyable to teach. My younger kids are a different story. While I love them every inch of them, it can sometimes feel like I’m trying to teach a herd of elephants how to tiptoe.
After lesson time, the kids have a snack, drink some water, and then it’s time to play! When the weather’s nice, we take them outside and let them run themselves ragged. The school also has a McDonaldsesque indoor playroom which the kids love. I usually try not to imagine how germ-infested this place must be (Thank you so much for these exciting neuroses, Mom) as they scramble to hold my hand or dangle from various parts of my body . This is the place where one of my kids once got so excited that he forgot he had to pee, and well, I’m sure you can guess the rest. By the way, this is the same kid that, just today, I watched pee on himself while he was standing two inches from the urinal. I doubt even an ability to understand Chinese would help me understand why he did this. There’s another room on the fourth floor that is basically just one of those big ball pits. The kids go crazy in this room and I love it. I never cease to be astounded how easily kids are entertained and kept happy. If only life were so easy for the rest of us.
After this, we usually round the kids up and get them ready for lunch. These kids must be the slowest eaters on the planet because it takes them a full forty five minutes to an hour to eat their lunch. During lunch I try to dissuade them from both talking and chewing with their mouths full, rubbing on me with their food encrusted hands, and spilling their entire trays on the floor. If it’s my younger class, I have to listen to a chorus of “Wo bu che,” which means I am not eating. Great. Thanks, Kid. Now eat the damn food. I’m usually left alone during this experience so the other teachers have a chance to eat, which means… well… who knows what. Am I supposed to force feed these kids? Am I supposed to perform a song and dance? I don’t know. Usually I just point, say sit down, and eat faster. This is also usually accompanied by a prayer that God will prevent complete and utter chaos during the other teachers’ absence.
After this exciting and confusing period of time, I get to head to my own lunch. Lunch is yet another adventure. Will it be amazing or give me ebola? I just never know. While I am a full on advocate of eating animals, I usually abandon this life-long practice when it comes to lunch at Wunan. Better hungry than dead is my motto. Good thing I can survive until dinner on a bowl full of white rice and a smidgeon of funky Chinese soy sauce (Let it be known that the Japanese do it better).
After this, Jami, the other Wunan teacher (without whom my insanity would run amuck) and I head to Starbucks, or as the locals call it, “Xing Ba Ke.” In the past two months, I’ve probably been to Starbucks more times than in my entire college career. Here, I either pass out for an hour or two with the other Chinese men who make Starbs their local nap spot or surf Twitter for a solid two hours. I make it a point to shirk all school responsibilities and go out of my way to procrastinate during this time. I pride myself on this fact and this fact alone.
Then comes the time where Jami and I must make the long three minute trek back to Wunan. It’s rough. Let me tell you. During this walk, I am either fighting my way back to consciousness or scrambling to mentally plan my afternoon lesson (I kid. I’m extremely well organized). Once I arrive back at school, I usually get to sit around for another fifteen to thirty minutes while the kids rouse themselves from their two and a half hour nap. Their lives are hard. I feel for them. I really do. Then they eat a snack. It’s about this time that I again hear, “Wo bu che.” Really Kid? Wow, didn’t see that one coming. Then, I start my lesson.( I rotate between two classes and they switch mornings and afternoons.)
At four, the kids are either picked up by their Ayi’s (nannies) or their parents. Usually the kids are gone by 4:15 and I begin the trek home. On occasion Jami and I will hit up a happy hour with a good wine selection on the way home. The happy hours in this town are crazy and there are about fifty million on my walk home from school. (There’s a picture of the view from one of my favorites, The Camel on the bottom of this post.) Life could not be better. I live in an amazing place, in an awesome part of town and I have an awesome job. I’ve been in a funky mood all week so this blog may make it seem like life is rough, but trust me, it is better than one could ever expect. Sometimes your mood simmers just below a murderous rage for no reason, and for me, this week is one of those times. I should be over it by tomorrow. The school (when I say school I mean myself, Jami, and another English Teacher named Gene) are putting on a Halloween performance and taking the kids trick-or-treating. I’ll tell you all about it in my next blog if I haven’t lost my morning game of Frogger.
View from The Camel. Calm. Quiet. And perfect.
