Archives for October 2009
Terrible Teaching Tuesdays
I feel bad for my Tuesday classes, because that’s the day I start my new lesson. If the subject line is any hint (hint: it’s a big hint), Tuesdays never go over well. Throughout the day, I’m constantly rewriting my lesson plan, cutting sections and trying to find the magic formula. Some of this spills over into Wednesday, but by Thursday, I’ve basically got it down. Then Friday comes around, and I’m physically exhausted and not at the top of my game anymore. Then Monday comes around, and I’m bored with the lesson and not at the top of my game anymore. Then Tuesday comes around and… oh, here we go again.
The nice thing about Tuesdays is that, while my first class is horrible by every mean, the second class is one of the best a teacher could ask for. These are the kids who stand and bow and say, “Good morning, Mr. Clark,” at the beginning of every lesson. I don’t even ask them to do this. Needless to say, they always get all smiley faces. Well, let me explain that one. I’ve started a system where I draw a smiley face on the board when the class is being good and a frowny face when they’re noisy, just to let them know I don’t appreciate their behavior (since my irritated scowl often gets overlooked).
I don’t like doing too much “repeat after me,” either, so I ask a lot of questions and hope I get more answers than blank stares. Classes are generally well-behaved this way until I start calling on students who can’t immediately answer. If they hesitate at all (and, in many cases, they’ll silently stand there and fidget), the rest of the class loses interest and starts talking. This week’s lesson has been particularly annoying, because I give the students five minutes to ask their partner about their favorite animal, but when I call on someone to report what their partner said, they stand there… and fidget. Or we have a conversation like this:
“What did your partner say?”
“Uh… um… uh…”
“What did she say about her favorite animal?”
“Uh… what is your favorite animal.”
“No, you were supposed to ask that already.”
“Oh…”
“So what did she tell you?”
“Uh… what is your favorite animal.”
“Sit down.”
On days like this, I curb my frustration by going home and pasting the word “student” on top of fat, lazy animals.
I feel better.
TV Roundup: Volume 8
Dr. Who (Season 1)
People with time machines don’t make sense. Here we have a time-traveling alien doctor who constantly grieves over the loss of his species in some great war, but instead of going back in time to try to save them, mucks about on Earth and cryptically hits on British women who look too much like my sister. All right, so the Doctor is a likable guy whose grin alone could melt a six-foot tall bar of chocolate. Sci-fi is risky territory, though, where the slightest missteps can turn a great idea into a cheesy, throwaway series, and Dr. Who walks that line all too often. The show obviously has a substantial budget, since its alien costumes look pretty good, but whoever is behind their 3D effects needs to get their act together. Even for 2005, this seems pretty inexcusable and ends up killing any suspended disbelief in every scene. Maybe Dr. Who picks up in later seasons, but for the time being, everything Season 1 tries to accomplish—humor, action, romance, moral lessons—comes across as meager attempts.
Jackass (Seasons 1-3)
I was under the impression that Jackass was mostly a collection of outrageous stunts resulting in broken bones and classy nose dives. Granted, seeing a bunch of morons slide down a hill gets a little old, but the Jackass gang’s backup material is usually too gross or mean-spirited to be bearable. Yes, you have to let your mind regress to a more immature point in your life to really get the most out of this show, but there are some things I don’t think I’ve ever been able to tolerate. Like watching other people vomit or wave their [thankfully censored] junk around. Why is everyone so eager to take their clothes off? I realize the name of the show is Jackass, but the actors they scrounged together are painful to watch. Johnny Knoxville is the only one with any amount of class or charisma and basically saves the show from being nothing more than a couple of amateurs trying to get more hits on Youtube. Watching Knoxville get pummeled by a fire hose is both funny and sad. Watching his idiot friends beg for similar attention is annoying… and sad.
Little Britain (Seasons 1-2)
If you’re willing to subject yourself to hours of drivel in order to gleam a few quotable quotes, then Little Britain may be your cup of tea. Just keep your eyes half-covered while watching, as some of these sketches are downright nasty and gross. What started out as a series of funny (and sometimes hilarious) clips about “ordinary” British citizens in Season 1 turned into a vulgar, repetitive, and, above all, boring waste of time. It’s impressive to see Matt Lucas and David Williams reappear as so many different characters, but you also get kind of tired of their faces coming up in every skit. A man can only play so many female roles before the novelty of a man playing a female role wears off. The characters they create are usually only built around one joke, anyway, so every time a new scene comes up, you already know what the setup and payoff (if there even is any payoff) are going to be. The same joke told in a different location or with different props still loses its charm the second time around and is just plain irritating by the fourth.
Farscape (Season 1)
Farscape feels like what Star Wars could have been if it was a live-action TV series (and if George Lucas hadn’t screwed it up). The puppetry and make-up are top notch, and some of the plot twists are really, really clever ideas. In fact, watching Farscape is somewhat frustrating, because I get mad at myself for not being able to think this creatively. Farscape does show its age, though, and the campy music, pacing, and dialogue (complete with stupid space terms) tend to be a bit of a drag. The inclusion of a human character, brought to you by the letter wormhole, may also seem unnecessary, but his presence, at least in the beginning, helps keep the ridiculousness in check. I loved how Crichton was always getting names mixed up and was always asking what I’m always thinking, “What the hell is going on?!” Unfortunately, he adapts to the new technology a little too quickly, even for an astronaut. At least his relationship with his crazy alien shipmates takes time to develop. It took a while for me, but I’ve become pretty fond of them now, too.
The Night Sky in Changzhou
Ooh, spooky. Hey, that reminds me. Halloween is coming up… and yet I’m still stuck in a country that doesn’t embrace trick-or-treating. This is the second time I’m going to miss the big holiday season, and it’s finally making me a little homesick. Don’t forget that the caption contest ends the day after Halloween. At least there’s always that to look forward to!
Enjoying Beer and Coffee Post Mormonism
The first beer I ever drank was in China. Growing up, beer (and coffee and tea) were off limits, because Mormonism and its unclear “word of wisdom” forbade, as the book likes to call it, hot drinks (where hot drinks later meant whatever we tell you not to drink). These rules get taken to some pretty ridiculous extremes, though, and I’ve seen grown adults make an embarrassing scene over being offered a harmless cup of tea. Alcoholic beverages, then, are about as sinful as premarital sex and skipping church for any other reason than to watch the Superbowl.
I thought I was being a daring little rebel when I tried a non-alcoholic beer back in high school. Since I didn’t like the taste, it only confirmed the stigma that people—bad people, no less—simply drank to get drunk. Even after resigning from the Mormon church (hey, this month marks my six-year anniversary!), it was difficult to get over a lot of the misgivings I had about alcohol (and coffee and tea and so many other things). While the rest of the world doesn’t bat an eye over their first cup of coffee, it was a pretty big step for me and is an event I remember vividly.
My first coffee was in China, too.
The hurdle ex-Mormons have to get over is the idea that beer and coffee are addictive and will turn you into an alcoholic or a liberal radio host, respectively. When I first started drinking (and by drinking, I mean very tepidly), I mostly did so as a social gesture amongst expat friends to avoid falling into old, prudish habits. Nevertheless, it was hard mingling with a crowd of people who drank and smoked and swore and had tattoos when 17 years of religious upbringing told me to stay clear of such sinners.
Before I moved into the Star primary school, the director of the training school gave me a huge case of Chinese beer. I tried one and thought it was disgusting, and so the remaining bottles sat in my fridge untouched for the rest of the year. Ten months later, as I was packing up to move out, I tried the beer again and actually liked it. Where did I go wrong? Or rather… where did I go right?! Somewhere in those ten months, I developed a real liking for German Erdinger beer thanks to a friend recommending it at a Western bar. And now I get cravings for it (or just beer in general) every once in a while.
Oh, no, I’ve become one of them…
In all fairness, the cravings I get for beer or wine or rum and Coke are comparable to (and not even as bad as) the cravings I get for other foods like pumpkin pie, chocolate chip cookies, cheese enchiladas, pepperoni pizza, mashed potatoes and gravy… man, why did I ever start this list… The point is, I was always taught that alcohol was reserved for only the lowliest of wife-beaters and college drop-outs. But that’s not who I am. Alcohol doesn’t bring out the “real me,” because, when recognizing and adhering to my own limits, it’s just another drink that I can finally enjoy without guilt.
New Subway Restaurant in Changzhou
One of my favorite places to go in Shanghai is the Subway on Nanjing Road. If I can’t make it to Subway while in Shanghai, the trip has been a waste. Knock-off Haibao dolls can’t make up for no Subway. I rarely ate at Subway back home, but in China, when available, it’s an emotionally fulfilling taste of the US. Emotionally filling? Fulfilling? Whatever. I miss turkey sandwiches.
And then Subway came to Changzhou. It’s in the north district of the city, though, almost an hour from downtown. You have to have a huge craving to go that far. The restaurant’s only been open for a week, too, and the employees haven’t quite figured out how to pile on the condiments. The guy making my sandwich meticulously placed three pieces of pepper, three pieces of onion, and two olives on it:
That’s a sad-looking sandwich. Back to Shanghai.
I Dream of Sailing
I mentioned I wanted to turn recorded dreams into an ongoing feature, so here we go with another crazy adventure. In tonight’s episode, I was the captain of a ship and intended to sail across the world, but the customs in this world were a little… different. To be able to visit another land, you first had to pick up a talking severed head from the travel agency, transport it to a special island where a castle called Century was stationed, and exchange it for the head that could grant you access to your next destination.
Hey, I don’t make the rules here.
Once my ship obtained the right head, we set out for our first of many scheduled vacation spots. We hit some pretty rough water on the way, though. The ship got shaken up so badly, it killed three stowaways who had been hiding in the crates. The head was quite upset about [accidentally] killing them and blacklisted us from ever using Century’s severed head services again. This meant, without their help, we couldn’t go anywhere else once we got to the first island. We were stuck.
The island did look a little like Huanglong, which I guess was a plus. People were swimming in all of the pools, though, despite the many signs that said not to touch the water. My brother, accepting this as our new home and trying to make the most of it, started his own company. Developers would send him their homebrew Nintendo DS games to edit and improve. I spent the rest of the dream playing some of the games he had worked on. Sounds like my ideal dream of a deserted island!
Freeing the Streets of Chinese Money
I was a little restricted in where I could eat today, because all I had on me were 100 yuan bills. I’m so filthy rich, I don’t carry anything less. A 100 yuan bill doesn’t get you as far as it sounds, though. It’s really only $15. So I find it amusing when my friend never leaves his apartment with more than 100 yuan and always finds himself going over budget at the supermarket checkout.
Locally, 100 yuan is still a lot (it is the highest denomination, after all), and many smaller restaurants and shops will either refuse to take that much money or scowl at you while they search the cash register for leftover counterfeits. There was a taxi driver in Harbin who came unglued when I had nothing but 100s to give him, and he impatiently waited while I went into three different stores, trying to find someone who would break it for me. In order to avoid a similar situation, I just ate at McDonald’s today instead of the usual noodle house.
It’s at times like this when it would have been nice to find five yuan lying on the ground. I’ve actually come across a lot of money on the streets, but, oddly, I seem to be the only one interested in picking it up. I once found a wet 20 yuan bill outside (wet because it was raining, not because… perish the thought). Back at the training school, I held the bill up to the heater to dry. Everyone who asked about what I was doing became uneasy when I told them I found the money outside. “You should just get rid of it,” they said. “It’s bad luck.”
It always boils down to bad luck.
This is a far cry from how things roll in the US, where a penny is just the opposite. When my parents started building their current house, my brother found $100 on the property. Completely jealous, I spent most of my free time for the next few weeks wandering around the neighborhood, hoping to discover my own $100. Ten years later, the only money I ever found was three dollars scattered across a lawn next to a police car. But even with a police officer watching, I still picked up the money. I always pick up the money! Because that’s what I do, whether I’m in America or China.
Caption Contest is Back and Mad as Hell
Several months ago, I attempted a caption contest that didn’t end well, because family members’ entries confounded the selection process. This time, immediate family is exempt from winning. Sorry, Dad. To make up for the discrepancy, I’ll give this contest’s winner two local handicrafts instead of one. Don’t worry, there will be more opportunities in the future, but this is probably the only one I’ll make available for worldwide shipping. The rest will take place once I’m back in the US. Contest closes November 1st. Start commenting!
The results are in. I’m going to have to give this one to Joe for his caption for the third picture: Step aside, friend. This table has been sanctified for the most amazing half-peeled cucumber vs. Red Ranger fight your rat-tails have ever dreamed of. You had me at rat tails.
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