Don't dis, disown, or disassemble

Just take a second and commit to not do any of the following before you read further.

Yeah, I haven't shaved my legs for a month and a half. After shaving nearly every single day for the past 7 years, I can honestly say that ...... well, no, I haven't been converted. But I also am not offended by my shaving apostasy. Sure, it's absolutely disgusting, but I'll finally understand what it means to, after shaving, hop under the covers and appreciate what it feels like to have nicely shaven legs.

Huzzah for No-Shave (partial October and) November!

I will never do this again.

Student Funnies

Introductory Christmas.

A girl hastily draws a rough outline of a stocking. She clutches it in her fist and shoves it toward me and says, THIS.

Yes! A stocking! 

I draw a picture of a fireplace on the screechy chalkboard and the kids breathe out an audible ahhhh as they understand where I'm headed.

They clap their hands when I finish, thrilled that there was a point of connection between their language and mine. That's the thing about art--it's universal.

Okay. You remember what is UNDER the tree, and what is ON the tree, what goes IN the stockings?

A diminutive seventh grader (I seem to remember a newspaper once referring to me in the exact same terms when I was in a play) in the back says, unabashedly, FIREEEEE!

Fire???!

The class laughs.

A young boy on the front row on the far left shouts, FIRE IN DZE HOLE!!! pulls the trigger out of an imaginary grenade, and throws it out the window into the cold air as he plugs his ears.

I have the best students.

Things.

Thoughts in my head.

It's not like today was a crappy day or anything. By all rights, it was an excellent day. I taught my typical 5 classes (nearly every other teacher has 2-3) and returned home, exhausted, after taking the ten minute speed walk through the biting cold. After warming up for 5 minutes, we headed back into the icy abyss to hail a taxi to take us to Restaraunt.

By the way, Restaurant Mom bought us some earrings and gave them to us last time we were there, along with some delicious ball thingies that looked like tiny rolls and tasted like baklava (except the brown ones, which were chocolate covered and tasted like eclairs without the cream). She no longer accepts any money from us because, as she forcefully asserts every time we go, we are family.

Restaurant fed us delicious dumpling soup and our favorite, sweet potatoes, as well as the bizarre chicken broth stuff that's vaguely spicy and has floating cilantro in it. Which is good... seeing as we haven't had appetites for the past four days. SPEAKING OF WHICH. We had Thanksgiving in Nanjing with the ward there. It was the second-best decision of my life, next to marrying---oh wait. Yeah. It was THE best decision of my life. We had turkey, rolls, sweet potato delight (don't know what in the world it was, but I think it was a blend of sweet potatoes and pumpkin with sugary goodness on top), and all sorts of brownies and pie. What a lovely experience it was.

BUT BACK TO RESTAURANT.

It's always the biggest tender mercy to go to Restaurant. Mama cooks us something special and gives us something to take home every time--and not necessarily something tangible like food. She never fails to completely change our attitudes. I've been setting goals for Chinese lately and gotten pretty discouraged and overwhelmed about this language. When people speak to me, I don't understand a word they say. I don't know whether it's the dialect in Pooptown or what, but I just wish it could click and I could pick out the words that I say to them when they say it back to me.

Then the idiot (pardon my pessimism) taxi driver decided to go off on a rant about how he hates America and he mistook my 'ting bu dong' (no understand) to be awkward offense. Well, sir, even if I did understand anything you said besides:

BLAH BLAH BLAH--oh, let me do this correctly now...

Taxi Man: BRAH BRAH BRAH I HATE AMERICA BRAH BRAH BRAH I LIKE CHINA BRAH BRAH BRAH CHINA BETTER THAN AMERICA BRAH BRAH WAIT YOU'RE AMERICAN BRAH BRAH BRAH I MEAN I DON'T LIKE AMERICA BUT AMERICANS OKAY BRAH BRAH BRAH

Me: Uh, how much was the ride?

Taxi Man: ...............

Dear Taxi Man, I know what long pauses mean. They mean, should I rip these people off?

Taxi Man: .......Ba kuai.

Me: BU BA KUAI. TAI GUI LE. (NOT 8 KUAI. TOO EXPENSIVE)

Taxi Man: ......ba...qi...qi kuai wu. (8...7...7.5 kuai)

Me: LIU KUAI. Women zhidao duoshao qian (6 KUAI. We know how much money it costs..)

Taxi Man: [mischievous smile] Keyi keyi BRAH BRAH BRAH BRAH BRAH BRAH BRAH BRAH (okay, okay BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH).

Me: [in English, with a sincere smile] You can't insult me and my country and then expect us to pay two more kuai than expected. I hope you have a terrible night. Xie xie, wan an! (thank you, goodnight!)

Just. Well. Here are my thoughts. And here's what I think about politics at the moment. I don't care a bit who's poor and who's rich. I don't care whether or not Taiwan is technically considered China. I don't care if you hate America or if you hate me. But what I do care about are human beings. Since when did God create us to create tension with others or obsess over diplomatic details or rifts from the past? I love America. I love my country. I love China. I love the people here. The way I see it, you can come to love any place in the world when you take a glance into the core of humanity. Why, why, WHY do the countries of the world feel the need to destroy each other for the mere 'feeling' of superiority? Are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend on the same God? 

I don't mean to adopt a defeatist attitude, but our world won't change until the Second Coming. I'm not asserting that even the smallest efforts to change it can't bless at least one person's life, which will be entirely worth it, I'm just saying that it's really heartbreaking that human nature in politics has become so vile, base, and apathetic. I guess it's just one of those days that I wish things were better in the world. I sincerely cannot wait for the Second Coming of the Lord.

Bizarre that a simple conversation with Taxi Man became so thought-provoking, but I just wish with all my heart that I had more means, time, and talents to change the world a tiny step at a time. 

Ether 12:4:

"Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God."

One time,

I was reading CNN and there was an opportunity to write something about China--like a submit your own story deal. So here it is. Feel free to share or do whatever! But no negative feedback, please. It is what it is. :)

http://ireport.cnn.com/docs/DOC-884655

I'M ALIVE

Just in case you were wondering.

Kidddens

Here's the weird thing about life in China. There's so much to say, but I don't know how to adequately portray it, ya know? Actually, you do know. It's when you hit email time and you have so much to tell your family but it's almost a ridiculous thought to begin to say anything because you know that there's no way you could possibly go into every detail and every emotion withenough detail and emotion to give it justice. That was a long-winded sentence, but moral of the story is, I don't know what to say.

 

Let me talk about my students. Remember Titanic story?

Well one day I had this bizarre idea to turn on My Heart Will Go On from Titanic.

 

The music starts playing.

 

All the girls' faces lit up and they do their little happy clap and then all of a sudden this boy stands up and yells, "YOU JUMP I JUMP!"

 

It took me a second to register what he said, but as he stood with his arms outstretched ("I'm flying!") and said that in his adorable Chinese accent, I lost it.

 Yeah. I love them. The thing is, whenever I walk into the classroom, they freak out. They literally freak out. They do this adorable little thing where their hands are involuntarily gaoxing (happy) and they start flashing peace signs at me like their life depends on it. There's always the exuberant round of applause and a crescedo of screaming as they all begin to realize that I'll be teaching (more like performing for them) them for the next forty minutes. I'll be honest. I'm not a fantastic teacher, but we certainly have a fun time.

 

There's always the diminutive student that sits in the front and stares you down with wonder. They have their plethora of textbooks organized by height and beautifully arranged with their notebook and pencil bags. The whole class, they blurt out the answer and are rather put-out when you don't call on them for the eighth time in a row. Other students in the class look at them when they're saying something in English because they've been automatically deemed the unspoken translator.

 

Then there's the punk on the back row that mimics everything you say. I get a bit animated when I speak--as you very well know--and he's the one who responds to sound the most. If I say, "Okaaayyy??" He will say it in an equally feminine--though embarrassingly similar to my voice--and annoying way. The best part about him is that he doesn't mean any harm; it's almost involuntary.

 

But there's also the girl with the perfect hair and dimpled smile that everyone stops talking when you single her out. She's quietly brilliant and won't say a word unless you call on her, but her English is impeccable and all the students linger too long on her correct answers.

 

THEN there's the class clown. The one that says everything wrong but does it in style. I had one of these today and he was a pudgy, short little kid with an abnormally round face and bug eyes under his ultra-magnified glasses. When we were saying things we were grateful for, he expressed gratitude for things like monkeys, tigers, and ice cream--which is entirely valid, but he just got so excited he screamed them in his deep(ish) squeaky(ish) seventh grade voice until I wrote them on the chalk board.

 

So those are the iconic students. There's one in every class (I have over sixty students in each class). I love them, though. They are always so sweet and have no qualms at yelling at me across the hall, "LAOSHI! LAOSHI! MEES MAREESA!!! HALLO! HOW ARE YOU I'M FINE SANK YEW!" They give me little pieces of candy after class and ask me for my autograph in various places in their notebook, then come back for different sizes of my name.

 

I end the class with 'I love you!' and they never hesitate to scream 'I LOVE YOU TOO!' with all the energy their tiny voices can muster. There's no better feeling than having an entire class of the most adorable children telling you as genuinely as possible that they love you. It's amazing. I cannot wait to be a mother. I think it's so beautiful that I can create a human being within me. And that when that tiny person is born and they begin to cry, they can breathe. They can think. The best part is that they will be mine. But until then, I get to love my students like my children, even though their English is limited and they can barely say my name.

Today, I was doing a Thanksgiving lesson and the Spirit was in each class and I could see in the students' faces that they knew I loved them. It was beautiful. I wish I could go into detail but my computer is broken so I'm on borrowed time!

I love you all. Alsooooo, I'm serving my mission in Taiwan Taichung leaving January 23rd!!! Sooooo. Life is good. I am so happy.