We’re watching the superbowl tomorrow, with live streaming.  Isn’t that amazing?   After that  we’ll be leaving for our travels toward home.  We’ve been cleaning and packing and getting rid of things, or shall we say “passing them on.”  I gave a lot of my “art supplies” and “teaching materials” to another teacher.   So, now, just packing up the last things, wiping out the refrigerator, which always froze the food, and we’re set to jet.

I told my dear husband that I wasn’t going to clean the refrigerator and would happily pay the building monitor, also known as the “Ai yi” and “the spy” the 100 rmb to clean the apt.  He said that he would do it.  I have in the past paid $30.00 per hour for cleaning, so I’m fine with $15, but he is not, so he can do the task.
I got my last manicure yesterday.  I so wish I had learned enough language to talk with these girls who take care of me, but I didn’t.  I had someone write something out for me two weeks ago, and I gave the main girl this note, an artificial rose, and a pkg of cookies.   She was surprised to see me another time yesterday and called someone over to translate.  I got through to them that although my nails still looked good from 2 weeks ago, that I wanted them to look great for the next 3 weeks, until I get home.   So, she did the deluxe thing.   I’ve seldom done manicures in my “real life” but here I found it to be an indulgence that made life more bearable.  I’ll have to get a job to keep up the habit when I get home.

I can hardly wait to see you, my friends and family, and I’m sad to leave you, my new friends.  May we all meet again, preferably at my house, where we can sit near the garden and eat fresh strawberries right off the plant.

We’re winding down here and preparing to go home. The Junior 2 exam is this afternoon, so classes for them have been cancelled this week. We’re all supposed to go around the classrooms to monitor the exam, then we have our last faculty meeting of this term. Our colleagues are looking forward to the long break for their travels. It’s bittersweet, as always, to leave one place and go on to another.
I feel that I failed in many ways, yet for a few students I made a small difference in their lives. I told all my students, “I do not care at all about exams. I care that you will be able to speak English.” Only a few could even begin to understand what I meant.  We have a few classes left with the Seniors and I plan to review the exams we did last week. Then we turn in our grades, and that’s the end of this chapter.
We’ll be going to another city in China to visit friends we’ve known for ten years. It seems so long when you say, “A decade” and yet it seems like yesterday that we met them. After that we go back to our own country, visiting friends and relatives on the way. We hope to be home by early March, in time to start the garden season.
We’re always “on the way” somewhere. We’ve been “on the way” our whole lives. I so remember wanting to be tall enough to ride certain rides at the Katy Road Kiddy Land in Huston, Texas. But our family moved a different way before I achieved that height. I remember wanting so much to be able to throw and catch a softball, not to mention to bat one. I was always the last one chosen for a team at recess, and often my name was not spoken, I just went to the team who had the last choice. I remember reading a study done at Pacific University school of Optometry that said the best athletes had the best vision. I could have saved them the trouble by the time I was ten years old. But they had to find their own way to understand why some kids just can’t play ball.
In my mind, I’m still about 35 and it’s hard to believe that three of my “children” are past that already, and the fourth is rapidly reaching that milestone. It’s been hard to believe that our colleagues here are of an age to be our grandchildren, yet they invite us to go out with them for dinner and drinks afterward.
We’re always on the way home, from our travels, our adventures, our work, our play. We’re on the way home from earth to heaven, by way of the one who said, “I AM the way, the truth, and the life.” We cannot know how much longer our travels are on this way, but we know for certain that we are on the way home.

“Ridiculous romantic fiction,” said the student who calls herself “Martini” because she wants to sound “sophisticated”, in response to our lesson on Christmas, a national holiday in USA.
“Many people agree with you,” I said, and left it at that.
As I pondered the remark though, I wonder what really is romantic about the story? Thousands of people are ordered by the occupying foreign government to make a journey to an ancestral town. How romantic. Taxes: romantic. The town is full of people there for the census and taxation, so there are no open lodgings, hotels, inns, houses of relatives. No place to stay after walking 60 miles. How romantic. A young couple is given shelter in a barn with the animals. Warm, yes, dry, yes, shelter, yes, but romantic? Days and days go by, the young woman is ready to give birth. No midwife available, no doctor, no nurse, no clean place. How romantic. Was the birth easy? No one knows, but most women would not use the adjective “easy” for giving birth, nor would they call it a romantic event. After a few hours perhaps, while the young mother wanted to rest, a group of shepherds came in from the fields where they had been camping out for days and wanted to see the new baby. How very romantic.
I suppose our student was referring to the idea of the virgin birth. I agree it is an amazing part of the story, but romantic? Perhaps she referred to the angels mentioned in the story? In the Bible, whenever angels are mentioned as appearing, the first words they speak are “Fear NOT,” and the people are almost always terrified. So I would not call that element “romantic” either. I think our student does not understand the word “romantic” in either a common or a literary sense.
As to the word “fiction” there is no question that a man named Jesus, of Nazareth, was born, lived and was tortured and brutally executed in Israel, at a certain time in history. In fact, there is more attestation for his life, than there is for Julius Caesar, according to the scholars who count such things. (Josh McDowell: Evidence That Demands a Verdict)
History has been divided by his life, BC: before Christ, and AD: Anno Domini, In the year of our Lord. Western civilization has been built on the teachings of this particular man. Art, music, and literature have all been influenced by his life.
The significance of his life; whether he was who he said he was; whether he physically rose from the dead; these ideas are open to debate, have been debated for millennia, and will be debated until the end of time. These students who plan to enter the “Western world” for their higher education need to be at least acquainted with the parameters of the debate. In the universities of the United States or Europe this student will be “right at home” with her attitudes. But I hope she will find the intellectual honesty to enter the debate with full research.

Today is Christmas Day. Our young colleagues from UK organized a “Secret Santa” gift exchange. Early in December we drew names from a bag, and the name we drew was the person for whom we bought a gift. We were to wrap it up, but not put our name on it. The person who received the gift had to guess who had given it. After lunch today we had our time of opening gifts. We enjoyed each other, the gifts, and the celebration of this part of Christmas. Hannah, the person who organized this said, “We have to have something to keep up our spirits while we are all far from home.” Hannah was the giver of my gift. She gave me a small diary, called “The Way of Love” which has the famous poem about love that starts with “If I speak in the tongues of men and angels but have not love, I am a noisy gong, or a clanging cymbal.” The cover is black matte finish, almost like leather, and the front pieces and back pieces inside are embossed paper. The pages are blank, but Hannah has written that this is my “thought for the day” book. She has started off with a page for each day of January, 1-15, “quotes to keep me going.” Then, “the rest is up to you.”
In four months Hannah has noticed my mind and heart and has given a gift that “speaks” to my innermost self. She has given me a way to stay focused on writing every day, and a way to remember her and our time together here in China. She has given me the gift of listening.
Although we deeply miss our families, friends, and celebrations at home, we are grateful for this Christmas in China with our new friends. May you also enjoy the deep blessings of Christmas, in whatever circumstances you find yourself this year. The greatest gift of Christmas is the love of God, incarnate in Jesus, The Christ.

“Have you heard about Christmas?” I ask my students while introducing my St. Nicholas lesson. In the first four classes, the dumb stare was popular. In the fifth class, a few people said a few words such as “Santa, gifts, Christmas tree.” Then in class 6, everyone said, “OF COURSE!” So I asked “Tell me what you know.” A few students were able to say a sentence or two, “Eat turkey.” “Apples.” (I don’t know why the Chinese think apples are so important as a gift at Christmas, but they do.) “I know about the star on top of the tree.” “People give gifts.” Then, my “star” student stood up. I usually call on him after everyone else has had a chance. I will quote him as I remember his words, perhaps not exactly.
“The God wanted to come to earth, so he spoke to this girl named Maria and told her she would have a baby. She was engaged to a guy Joseph who was very angry when he found out she was pregnant and he wanted to —how shall I say this? ( I said, divorce) something like that, yes. But God talked to him in a dream and said, ‘This is ok. This baby is mine.’ So, they went to Bethlehem and the baby was born there. Then the king was jealous, because people said the baby was a king, so he killed all the babies in that area, so Joseph and Maria had to escape and the baby was ok. Now the calendar used to be only 365 days, they didn’t know about leap year when we have an extra day. So when the king of the Church in Rome (the Pope, I said) yes, his name was Gregory, he changed the calendar to allow for the leap year, so this is why December 25 is Christmas day.”
The young man had his mouth open ready to go on, but as I was probably the only person in the room who had any idea what he was talking about, I said “Thank you, Nate, excellent,” and went on with my presentation about St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, 270—353 AD. Nate had set us up for the calendar part AD and BC, so that went more smoothly than in the other classes.

I ask you, dear reader, do you know a 13 year old child who could give such an account? How about that calendar note, though? And how about IN A SECOND LANGUAGE? Would that I could be so effective a teacher as Nate’s previous teachers have been. I am honored to be his teacher now.

Since neither of us have class on Wednesday, we slept late, enjoyed breakfast, and went out around noon. First we went to a barber shop and got haircuts. Our hair was washed, then cut, then washed again, and blow dried. The cost for this service was 20 rmb each, just under $4.00. Next we went for a long walk in a nearby park. This park includes some classical statuary and a large lake. There are signs in English telling what the statues depict: Cupid and Psyche, Apollo and his chariot. All the pools surrounding the fountains are frozen over. The sun was shining; the sky was blue, and the air crisp and cold, a perfect winter day. After the park we got a bus and went up town and explored a mall. Since land is at a premium, the Chinese build up malls several stories and have huge escalators. It’s all very upscale.

We chose a restaurant featuring steak and a menu with English under the pictures. Having decided what to order, we called the waiter, to learn that they didn’t have that today, or now, we weren’t sure. So we chose something else and enjoyed a dinner, though it was only 3 o’clock, of t-bone steak, allegedly from Texas, French fries, and a large salad. These days we feel allowed to eat fresh vegetables in China. Is it really safer than before? Who knows? For dessert, Dear Husband chose the mango milkshake. The menu showed a chocolate sundae, which I ordered, but the waiter said they didn’t have it. I didn’t want the red bean one.

After walking through the nearly empty mall – the real traffic is in the evening – we went to Hagen-Daz. For three months, I have thought it was a store having sundaes, shakes and all the other wonderful Hagen-Daz delights. However, the man working there said in perfect English, “We only have ice-cream. We have sixteen flavors. You can have one scoop or two.” One scoop cost 33 rmb, 2 cost 59 rmb. I chose one scoop of fabulous chocolate ice cream. We were the only customers in the store. The upholstered seating along the wall is red; the chairs at the tables are upholstered in gold. We sat in the golden chairs and the man brought goblets of water with a slice of lemon for us. Each table held a vase with two fresh pink roses, and a golden wire tree with pine cones and green ribbon. We faced the window with the Christmas tree decorated in red and gold ornaments, ribbons, and toys. From the speaker we heard a reverent solo version of Silent Night, all three verses, sung by a man who sounded like Nat King Cole—remember him? Hard to believe this is China!

On the bus ride home a young woman started talking with us. She is from England and teaches in another school. She has been in the city since September, and was not aware there were other English people so close by. She said she would e-mail me as soon as she got home.

We played Scrabble and the game was not easy or exciting as it sometimes is. We both drew lots of duplicate letters, and they were hard to play. The score was lower than we usually have, but we kept on playing. We play often and are about equally matched; sometimes the score is tied at the end. It doesn’t really matter to us who wins each night. In this game I was behind all the way, considerably behind. But on the last play of the game, the board opened an opportunity. I used all 7 tiles, and got both triple word scores for a total of 149 points and was the winner: a perfect end to a wonderful day.

I’ve read two books recently dealing with learning foreign language, one by the noted Dr. Pimsleur.  I found both to be enlightening about learning, and instructive for teaching.  Dr. Pimsleur said that it’s a good idea to learn the dozen or so most used verb concepts in any language, and gave his list.  Accordingly, I had a class on the verb “to want.”  I gave three structures: I want to do something  (want + infinitive verb)  I want  something  (want + noun) and I want someone to do something (want + clause).  I “explained” all these before we did the practices, and my example was “I want all my students to speak English.”    I asked the students if they could think of such a sentence in English.  One student said, “I want my mother to cook better.”  And another said, “I want my English teacher to be well.”

These days, I’ve been going to classes, but most of the rest of the time, I’ve been in bed.  I’ve had a respiratory infection, but have resisted going to a doctor, since with my allergies I’m wary of what might be given.  I have no energy.  I’ve been reading a lot but haven’t had energy to write.

Years ago, as I was president of library board in my small village, we often discussed the future of the library in the face of the electronic age.  One thing I said was, “No one is going to take a computer to bed to read.”  Alas, or Hurrah, depending on your feelings, here we are with the electronic reader in bed, not to mention the laptop to write this post.  I find the e-reader to be wonderful since I can receive books over the internet, almost magically it seems to me.

In case you’re wondering the exercises for “I want” here they are.  Groups of 6 stood in a circle facing each other.  I gave them a tennis ball to toss around.  When you got the ball, you had to speak the whole sentence “I want to—-” choosing a word from the chalkboard, or another that you knew, and you had to act it out, such as run in place.  After this had gone on for a while, I went to each group with a bag of candy (very Rousseau) and asked “Do you want a piece of candy?”  They had to answer “Yes, I want a piece of candy.” And then they got the candy.  Some said, “I want two pieces,” and I said, “Go to the supermarket.”

Onward, to the verb To KNOW.  How to give active exercises for that?   Stay tuned.

In order to introduce a sentimental, nostalgic  poem, I asked my literature class the question, “What do you remember of childhood?”  Of the 17 students, only one could give a happy memory of childhood.  These students are only about 16 years old.  They said they couldn’t remember being young.  I said “How about 5 years old?”   This is when they started school.  Two boys said they hadn’t wanted to go to school, and one cried about going to school,  This was his memory of young childhood. The other said that his English grade was low and that this was bad for him, at age 5!   One girl said something about dancing when she was very young, and one boy said, “Playing in the dirt with my friends.”  So much for getting into the mood of the poem.

I have so many memories I can barely keep track of them.  Perhaps my students aren’t able to comprehend the question in English, or to answer it in English.  But for the most articulate in the class to give only these stories of sorrow made me sad.

One of my very best memories came to mind several days ago, as we were riding the bus, and Dear Husband said, “I’m trying to fix the route in my mind with landmarks.”  “Just like my brother, ” I said.  On a day near Christmas, maybe the year 1953 or ’54, we lived in Houston, Texas. We attended a Lutheran school and we rode the city bus to go to school.  The route involved a transfer—a little pink piece of paper that said we could get on the next bus without paying again.  What my brother and I liked to do while waiting for that transfer bus was to go inside Foley’s department store and ride the escalator up to about the fourth floor to the toy department and Santa Claus. We stood and watched as little kids went and sat on Santa’s lap.  We looked and looked at the amazing toys and talked about what we’d like to have for Christmas.  Then we went back down and got on our bus and went home.  On one such day, we missed our bus, but waited for the next one.  When we got on and gave our little pink slips, the driver said, “Sorry, these are expired.  You’re too late.”  We didn’t have any extra coins for the fare, and he insisted we get off his bus.

My brother said, “We’ll have to walk home,” and off we went.  It took us hours, I’m sure.  I well remember sitting down on some sidewalk steps to rest.  My brother stood over me, waiting until I could go on.  It never occurred to me to be scared, or to cry, because my brother was so confident.  He knew the way home, all six miles,  because he had memorized the bus route as we rode every day.   We were in first and second grade, he about seven and I, about six years old.

Meanwhile our parents were frantic with worry, calling the school, other families, and the police.  When we arrived home, well after dark, everyone was so grateful to see us.  When my brother told the story, our parents called the bus authorities.  What did daddy say? you ask.  I don’t know.  I was so tired and happy to be home.  My brother was my hero that day, and to this day I look up to him.  Thanks, bro.

In the past week, I have been asked three times, “Why did you come to China?”  I have answered two students with the short answer, “I love people, I love teaching, and I love English.”  I have added another sentence for one student, “China wants English, I have English.”

Last weekend we had a visitor from a place we taught before.  She is not associated with the school there, but we met her through a mutual friend.  We have been in touch for a few years, so she came to visit.  She asked this question also.  I said that we expect to live another twenty years at least, possibly thirty, and it is too soon to sit down.  I spoke of being useful.  I spoke of loving people and loving teaching.  Dear husband spoke of loving the people of China.   Our friend said “We are not so lovely a people.”  Then she said her husband wondered, “Is it possible they are spies?”   We laughed out loud.  Then I said, “If we were, would we tell you?” More laughter.  We asked how could we possibly learn anything not already known through electronic surveillance, being as we are, illiterate and ignorant of Mandarin language.

A cab driver asked the same question, stating that in China, older people expect to enjoy life and to take care of grandchildren.  He also wanted to know our salaries, and was surprised.  He said it isn’t enough, we should have much more.  Then he went on to tell us, through our friend how much he makes per month, which is as much as both of us make.  He owns his own cab.  We spoke of the fact that our apartment is provided with utilities.  I said that he risks his life every day, driving a cab in China.  In fact, he did not run his meter for the trip from the train station to our apartment, but asked for  a set amount for the trip.  We agreed, even as we knew it was more than required, because we just wanted to get home with our guest who was travel weary.  The following day, another taxi took us to the train station and back again, and the round trip fare was less than the one way the previous day.  It does make me wonder anew, “Why did I come to China?”

I have eight classes of Junior 2 students, totaling about 200 students, for Oral English.  You may ask why I don’t know the exact number.  I haven’t wanted to count, and the number seems to fluctuate week by week.  Each of the eight classes has 50 students, but they divide for Oral English class.  So half leave the room, but then sometimes I have 31 instead of 25, so I truly don’t know.   We have a text book with CD’s, but we don’t have equipment to play the CD in the classroom.  I think it is an excellent text, but neither age appropriate, nor geared for 40 minutes once a week.  So, I use the topics as a guide and do my best to get the kids to talk in English for a few minutes per week.  These students are about 14 years old and in USA would be in 7th or 8th grade.    In most of the classes, the students are reluctant to speak at all, and do not seem to understand me when I speak.   I’ve used a lot of songs, such as B-I-N-G-O, and Little Cabin in the Wood, which they seem to enjoy.   Purpose: loosen up, laugh, and make some sounds in English.

In the first week I asked the classes, “What is your goal for this class?”  Then as I looked at the blank faces, I had to ask “Do you know what a goal is?”  and then I had to tell them.  However, in one class, a boy answered, “There are two meanings for this word, goal.  The first we can say is in a game such as soccer, we score a point by kicking the ball into the net.  This is called a goal.  The other meaning is something we want to do.”   I was astonished.   I learned that the boy spent six months in USA, attending school.   I have assigned him the task of giving “report” every week.  He tells wonderful stories and is poised and excellent in his delivery.  After a few weeks, other students asked, “Could I give a report?”  And now, I have about four students regularly “giving report” in that class.  Yesterday, a girl came and asked if she could give hers next week.  I have asked the first boy to pretend to be a tv interviewer and to interview other students, giving them questions he knows they can answer to build confidence.   This is my best, most enjoyable oral class.

I also have Senior 1 Class 13 for both writing in English, and literature.  For the literature class, I was given McGuffey’s Eclectic Reader, book 4.  This book was originally published in about 1836, but some selections refer to the Civil War, so I’m sure it was updated.  The purpose of the selections seems to be to form the American Character.  Although I am “doing the best I can with what I have” as mother always counseled, it is difficult.  For writing, I find that these students working in their second language, aren’t aware of the basics of writing in English.  So we are working very slowly, step by step, to construct sentences and working toward paragraphs and finally an essay.   One of the delights of this class is that two foreign students, one from Italy and the other from Sweden, attend as auditors, solely because they enjoy it.

And my last class is Senior 2 Class 13 for writing in English.  These students hope to go abroad for college and are preparing to take exams for this purpose.  They are far from fluent, and far from being able to write a paragraph in English, much less a whole essay.

I use the same materials and plan for both writing classes, since they are at roughly the same level.  The difference is that in Senior 1, I have used some of what we have read in literature to form the topic for writing.   This week, I have prepared a puzzle for the writing classes.  I printed on cardstock a paragraph I wrote for my class in 2011, titled “I Love English.”  I then cut it up into small pieces containing a word, a phrase, or a clause, and two sentences.  Each group of three or four students has a bag of words, a roll of tape, and a big piece of paper.  The directions say to find the TOPIC SENTENCE, the restatement sentence, the title, and then put the paragraph together.  Everyone seems to be enjoying the task.  The Swedish girl said almost right away, “So this could have many possible outcomes?” and I agreed, except that there is only one topic sentence.  The order in which the other sentences fall may vary.  The Italian girl in another group selected all the pieces that said, “I love” and arranged them in lines on the paper.  It is fun to see how the groups proceed to set up the puzzle.  Everyone has found the title, easy since it is in bigger type.  Most have found the topic sentence and put it first.   Some groups are putting together small segments before they arrange the sentences.   For example one sentence says, “It is strong and powerful, the language of kings and conquerors.” and the dividing point is after the comma.    I heard a boy explain to another boy, that kings and conquerors are powerful, so these two parts must go together.

My dear husband has a similar schedule, except he has those same senior students for Oral English.  We try to have some connection between what he is doing and what I am doing.  I hope this gives you some feel for what we are doing here day by day.