Banks of the Yangtz

As I continue to occupy the somewhat disorienting space between reflecting upon my time in China while making sure not to miss out on any new experiences, a realization dawned on me this week. Though I have previously mentioned how much I will miss the food when I return home, I’ve begun to realize that I will most of all miss my students. Shocking, I know. Over the past semester I have become continually closer to many of my students; some in groups, some individually. Though there are undeniable, and often grating, issues that crop up with these students, the vast majority of the time I genuinely enjoy being around them. As I wrote in a letter to home earlier this week, I’m beginning to feel as though I’m learning more from them than they are from me. I hope this isn’t an indictment of the effectiveness of my teaching, and it certainly does not refer to any exchange of linguistic knowledge, rather it is about learning how individuals and groups from a different culture operate in, and experience, their surroundings. In this regard, I’m the student, and a willing one at that. Below is a little scene from last week.

I was invited to a BBQ on the banks of the Yangtze by one of my freshman classes. Contrary to how I was just gushing about my students above, sometimes the idea of spending time outside of class with a group of nineteen year olds of varying maturity and communicative ability isn’t my idea of unwinding (they didn’t even bring beer; amateurs). That being said, I also want to make sure I take small opportunities like this, as they will not be on offer when I am back home. I made the right choice. After class I met with my students as the prepared the food they had bought. After everything was prepared (which, like most student operations, was a team effort that made up for a lack of organization and efficiency with an abundance of eagerness and cheer), we head to the Yangtze, about a 15 minute walk from campus. It should be acknowledged that what most of us would consider an idyllic spot for a river picnic is a little different than where we dined.

After we arrived with food and BBQing implements in hand, it was time to start the fires. This scene was reminiscent of what my good friend’s high school football coach would have described as, “watching 11 monkeys try to fuck a football.” However, they persevered and the BBQ officially began. I believe I mentioned this sentiment before, but when I travel or am a guest in a different culture, certain common sense alarms get ignored in the name of enjoying the experience. If back home I saw someone executing the food safety stunts these kids were pulling, I’d be having a quick, stern, and admonishing word with them. Here, I just hope for the best and rely on the fact that there is plenty of Pepto at home if things go awry. Anyway, the BBQ was a great laugh, the food was delicious, and my battle-hardened stomach didn’t even flinch. But the real takeaway from the experience was watching them interact.

Since I’ve been here there have been obvious distinctions between Chinese university students and their American counterparts. In the States, I think you'd be more than hard pressed to gather a group of thirty random nineteen year olds in a class and have the level of kinship that develops here without seeing serious tensions boil to the surface and divisive cliques form. I have not seen one kid in the class that has not been accepted by the group, and the students interact regularly and openly with all their class members, which coming from the US is unusual and quite impressive. That being said, there is some ferocious shit-talking that goes on in English and Chinese. But it was akin to the rubbish I used to say to my friends (ok, rubbish I still say to my friends). It's not all smiles and hugs, but it good natured enough. Though there are undoubtedly tensions and quarrels that must happen on a regular basis, in general the classes seem much tighter than anything I have seen in the US school system since early elementary school.

But why? I don’t fully know. My guess is that it stems from the close quarters (they live with the same roommates and have the same small class group all four years of college), the need for kinship, and most importantly the nature of guanxi that is the social norm in China where once accepted in the group you are in without reservations. I realize that I've told the story using some major generalizations, but still, my observations are honest and from what I've seen, hold quite true.

I’ve added a few pictures (sorry, cellphone pics) into the story, but here are some others. Also, below this post you’ll find a video that I put up last week from the BBQ where I mumble a bit and then have the students send a special message home.

Ta-ta.