This week I am drawing on the board in my classroom a cartoon drawing of two towns and a space between.  Really just a few lines and rectangles will represent the buildings and a few  half circles and triangles will give roof lines.  Then a road in front and a little car reminiscent of a VW Bug will give a feeling of motion.  In the space between, some lines to show trees and underbrush.  It’s amazing what you can do with a little chalk, and a bonus if some of it is colored.

I ask the students to tell me a story about the picture and they actually see what I have drawn: two towns, a road, a forest, and a car moving along from one town to another.  The problem is the car has to go through those woods to get to the other town.

Next, I put names on the towns: first town “Chinese” other town  “English” and the woods between?  “Chinglish” a necessary step between the two languages.  It is, among other things,  Chinese forms or syntax with English words, and English words, but not the best ones for the situation.  I hope that my students will move quickly through the woods and arrive at the next town.

My problem is that I enjoy some of the creativity that comes from being in those woods.  “It’s a happiness thing” appeared in an essay recently.  I think it’s an “error” but it reminds of a certain famous person who spoke this way.  Then I read this one: “we played cards, loudly laughed, and totally happied.”   I’m obligated to “correct” this, but I think it is quite clear, fresh and fun.  What more can we ask of language?

Today is Lantern Festival, the 15th day of New Year, and the end of the big celebration.  We have heard fireworks every morning and every evening for all these days, but apparently, these were just the precursor to tonight’s grand finale.  It does sound like war.  We are not hearing a few children with a few fire crackers. Nor are we hearing a town’s controlled and limited show, such as we have in USA.  We are hearing serious, continual explosives, and seeing the lights in the sky, and smelling that burning smell.  For me, it’s unnerving.

I heard on Beijing CCTV News, that people do this to scare away evil spirits.  If this is truly the case, there must be a powerful fear of these spirits. When I speak with young people such as our students, I hear that they don’t know anything about this aspect.  They just enjoy the festive lights.  A few young women have admitted to not liking fireworks, but that so goes against the tradition that they would not admit it to their peers.

I also heard that Beijing is considering a ban on fireworks, because people are realizing there are some safety issues.  The prevailing view among those interviewed, though, was that they like the fireworks, and you can’t ban a tradition so long standing as this one.

Chinese people set off fireworks when a new baby is born, when someone dies and for the funeral rites, when a new business opens, when a new building is opened, when people get married, when there is a birthday party, start of something, end of something, any celebration—any time is a good time for fireworks.

I carry with me, though, the memory of my dad, a decorated veteran of WWII, lying on a blanket in the park with us, his five little kids, during Fourth of July celebrations.  He told me he didn’t enjoy fireworks—-they were too much like the real thing.

A year ago at this time, when snow covered all my world, I was sitting in my study at my computer, happily searching garden topics.  I planned and re-planned my backyard.  I studied and shopped.  I bought the Square Foot Garden book and read it carefully. I talked with Dear Husband and Daughters — garden, garden, garden — was my whole conversation.  I devoted myself to my garden.  A garden is performance art, visual art, and musical art. The harvest: food for the body, food for the mind,  food for the spirit.

This year I am sitting in my study at my computer, but in China. I long for my garden, it’s time to start planning, and even planting with protection.  Chinese people plant gardens in any available piece of ground.  I see gardens along a fence, or in a little space outside an apartment, on a balcony, or on a roof.  I have no tools or supplies to follow their example.

This year I have a different garden—one of the mind and heart.  I’m nurturing people instead of plants.  I’m using language instead of soil.  I’m listening to students instead of birds, insects and wind.  I have classrooms, not raised garden beds.  I’m considering compositions, not compost. Last year, I left the garden before the final harvest.  This year, I will too.

Our friends tried to buy bus tickets the day before we were to go, but it was not allowed.  We had to get them the very day we wanted to go.  We got up around 8 am and proceeded directly to the station where thousands of people were already in line to buy tickets.  We kept saying, “Should we get in line?” but the girls said, “Not yet.”  After about 10 minutes, Dear Husband and Cousin got in line, while I proceeded with our hostess to a point in the line where a policeman was guarding the crowd and keeping order.  I do not know what she said to him, he said, “NO.”  There were several exchanges, but she stood there in front of him.  He tried to ignore her, but eventually he waved us on, into the actual building where the tickets were sold.  Now we went right up, almost to the ticket window.  Our girl tried sweet talking a few people who resisted her charm, but finally, an older gentleman let her cut in line ahead of him.  And thus we got our tickets for the 10:00 am bus.  We had to go back out the door to motion to Husband and Cousin to come forward, they had made considerable progress in line, I thought.  I learned that they had received “cuts” to get started.

Having arrived at the station around 9 am, we had done well to get those tickets by 9:40.  We went out to the bus loading place and found our bus and got on.  But, when the driver checked the tickets, we learned that this was the 9:50, not the 10 o’clock bus.  So, we got off and waited some more.  Our bus finally left at 11:00 am.  Our hostess went along with us, in case there would be any problems at the other end.  Truly, she went the extra mile.

We arrived RongChang at 1:00 pm. and our next host was there at the station, ticket in hand for our girl, so she could proceed to her destination for the day.  These former students with their cell phones kept the trip smooth for us–the three of them were in continual communication.  We proceeded to our hotel — just for one night, we can change tomorrow — and to lunch with the extended family.  We met the baby born last year at this time, grandma and grandpa, whom we had met at the wedding, and some uncles, aunts and cousins.  It was a delicious meal in a restaurant near their home.

Grandpa and Grandma purchased this home about 10 years ago, we were told, when their daughter was in late high school.  She knows this apartment as the house for the holidays.  The family gathers there every New Year.  The extended family lives in that town.  Grandma lives with our friend and takes care of the baby.  Grandpa lives near the coal mine where he works. His brother owns the mine. No one lives in the apartment full time.

Our friend invited us to come to the family gathering at this home of his in-laws.  We asked if he was sure that was acceptable to the family, and he said he was certain.  He cited a precedent when he had another foreign guest there for the celebration.  And so we arrived and were received.  We wanted to play with the baby, and converse with the adults.  The baby was scared and the adults weren’t interested.  It was cold in the apartment; we wore our coats, hats and scarves and left our shoes on, but these did not warm the atmosphere. On the third day, the baby warmed to us enough to let us hold her.

On the day before the actual New Year Eve celebration dinner, our host informed us with anger, frustration, and tears, that we were not welcome to attend the dinner, or to go to the apartment any more.  He wanted to flee that city and take us to his own home to celebrate properly.  We said that he belonged with his wife and child, and that since it was not our holiday anyway, we would be fine on our own.

Our host brought food over for us and sometimes took us to noodle houses.  There was an Englishman staying in the same hotel, the one we changed to on the second day.  We had some interesting conversations with him.  We walked a little bit around the neighborhood, and then stayed in the hotel watching the New Year’s Gala on tv.  This is a “big deal” in China.  It has been broadcast for 30 years on New Year’s Eve.  Everyone talks about it.  I watched for 2 hours, and there was not a single ad in that time.  It is an extravaganza of dance, singing, skits, comedy, and family sentiment.  It started at 8 and went on and on.  The next day, it was rebroadcast, in case anyone missed any of it.  Fireworks exploded all through that night, and are still going on.  Our host and his wife were able to visit us a little at a time, so we had some satisfying conversations.

Although the hotel boasted three stars, there was mold on the walls and the carpet was dirty.  We didn’t see any vacuum cleaners with the maids on duty.  The blanket was a feather bed, a fact which escaped my notice until the last day.  It has rained every day in that territory all winter.  It was dark, cold, and dreary.  All this combined for some asthma events, and a continual congestion.  I’m still not fully recovered, but our air filter, vacuum cleaner and heater are all helpful.  Our weather here in Hubei is often sunny and bright, so I’m happy to be here and not there.

Our second visit was in another district of the city.  Our former student came to the city from the place she now lives, and arranged accommodations for herself and us in the home of one of her cousins.  We arrived by taxi, accompanied by the first student.  After introductions and settling in, we got on a bus and went to another cousin’s home for the rest of the day.  The women of the group prepared a feast.  We were much welcomed, but no one besides our student spoke any English, and she did not interpret much.  I wanted to watch and participate in the kitchen, but I saw that they weren’t comfortable with that.  I have learned that there are two answers for questions about vegetables:  “green vegetable” and “I don’t know the English name.”  Everything in China is cooked, including lettuces of all kinds.

Our student referred to her cousins as “sisters” and their husbands as “brothers” even though we explained the standard English usage to her.  It’s common in China to use these English terms regardless of their meaning. These young women, daughters of three sisters, provided well for us.  In the afternoon, we went to a sort of amusement park, and the following day to Chongqing Garden Expo.  On that day we were joined by a younger cousin.  It was fun to see “the girls” enjoy themselves.

Of the twenty three districts in Chongqing city, we probably saw at least fifteen, ranging from poverty through extreme wealth.  Our hosts lived in the middle ranges. In the street markets we saw something new to us and asked what it was.  It looked like it might be stacks of very thin flat noodles, was it food?  It also looked like paper accordion pleated and bound in stacks, was it a game of some sort?  No, it was spirit money.  On the second day of the new year, people visit the graves of their ancestors and, among other rituals, burn this money so that the ancestors “have money to spend in hell,” as our student put it.

On the third day, our student accompanied us on the two hour bus journey to another city to meet our final host.

“Journey west” is the title of a popular ancient story in China, seen every day on tv.  It involves Monkey, Pig, and other characters.  We took our own journey west to Chongqing Municipality where we stayed in 2008–09.  We visited three particular people and their families.

The first was in a new district of Chongqing city, right on the Yangtze River.  The apartment complex is new, so new that few apartments are occupied.  The landscaping is excellent, especially as viewed from the 15th floor.  The apartment is exceptionally clean, modern and bright, small, but efficiently arranged.  The hosts, parents of our former student, were warm, friendly, and interested in conversation with us, as interpreted by their daughter.  This family enjoys cooking and sharing food. We had duck soup one night, and mutton soup another.  At home we had eggs for breakfast, and various tasty dishes at other times, and lots of fruit.  We were taken around the city to see the sights and shop in a market specializing in ethnic arts.

I bought a pair of linen pants with wide legs and embroidery on the front.  The effect is of a skirt.  I also bought a tiny  turtle carved from Dazu stone.  It is a stone occurring only in Chongqing. It has layers of light and dark, and the carvers use this to design the carving.  It is expensive, but I liked it.  I wanted a larger one, but they were too heavy as well as too expensive.  I also bought some earrings, typical to a special tribe in China.  The women wear lots of silver in high headdresses, necklaces, bracelets and earrings.  The ones I bought are heart shaped.  I understand that they are an alloy of silver, but they appear to be silver.  They will be a gift, because I do not wear earrings.  In another store, I bought a tiny black lacquered oval box inlaid with abalone shell flowers. What will I put in the box?  Some treasure, some memory of China, something to surprise and delight my grandchildren.

I have a collection of tiny turtles, carved from wood, jade,  stone.  Each turtle marks a special time or place, the first one, our honeymoon.  In Chinese lore, the turtle stands for longevity.  I have always liked the fact that the turtle carries his house with him—so convenient.  One year at camp I saw a sand turtle lay her eggs—they looked like opals–bury them, and then walk away into the water.  My own children are the jewels I have left behind, trusting that they will live and thrive.

In the late evening, we went up a high hill to a special place set aside for viewing the city. The buildings were all specially lit for Spring Festival, as were the roads and bridges.   It was a clear night, crisp and cold.  There is one large tree in the plaza on top of the hill, so the place is called “One Tree.”  From the plaza, we entered a building and took an elevator even higher up.  Spectacular!

In the education system of China, the EXAM is everything.  From entering kindergarten through achieving advanced degrees, the EXAM dictates a student’s progress. Students worry all the time about their marks on various exams, as well they might, because the marks on those exams will determine their next steps.  The common idea is that China has so many people, they have to have a way to sift them.  The exam is seen as the way to rule out people from the competitive race for places at school.

Students have told me that they must focus on the marks on the exam, not on the content.  They learn what they need for that exam, then lay that content aside to study for the next one. Perhaps the top tier students, the ones who go to Beijing University or Shanghai, do not have this attitude.  I have taught teachers in Shanghai and Beijing who know the reality of the system.  As teachers, they must focus on having their students do well on the exams.  They are not so interested in the ability to use English and enjoy it, as they are in having their students pass the exams.

At our school now, the exam in a given course counts 90% of the grade, everything else–participation, attendance, regular work—counts only 10%.  If the teacher wants to give a mid term exam, that can count for 30%, leaving 60% for the final exam.  In this climate, many students believe that they do not have to attend class, participate, or do any regular work.  Learning the content is not necessary.  The main thing is to show up for the exam and get a passing mark.  How to do this, if you haven’t learned anything new?  Easy.  Copy something from the internet, always available on a smart phone.  What is the topic?  Doesn’t matter, the internet covers everything.

Will the teacher read every word you have written on a writing exam?  Probably not.  The teacher knows what’s important, and reading student papers is not on the list.  Perhaps it’s different in Beijing, I do not know.  But this is what my colleagues in 2008-09 told me.

This term, I taught eight oral classes, and one writing class.  The orals were English majors, but the writing class was not.  Most of my writing students could barely understand me.  We made some progress toward writing a standard format five paragraph essay.  But on the exam, two students copied from the internet.  They copied the exact same essay.  One copied it whole, while the other had only a few sentences.  I gave both papers zero.

I showed the papers to the administrator, who asked if I could meet with the students and let them know how serious this is. He said his assistant could arrange it.  In my conversation with her, she tried to justify the students as wanting to make  good marks on the exam!  She loves these students, and wants them to do well.  She did not set up the meeting, everyone is too busy at this time.

One student emailed me and said that the two did not copy each other, but both copied from the internet, as if this made it a lesser offense.  He apologized profusely, as if this would win my heart.  He pleaded that he would be unhappy in the New Year celebration if he got a failing mark, as if his happiness were the main issue. He recognized the cultural difference between us, as if I should recognize that this form of copying is acceptable here. He has enough command of English to do all this in e-mail.  As I see it, the fact is that it is not only a common practice, but an acceptable one, here in China.  After all, the main thing is the mark on the EXAM.

January 1 marks the solar new year, the “western world” new year, the calendar new year.  But, here we are in China, where the main New Year is the Lunar new year, this year falling on January 23.  The people involved in teaching and learning English celebrate both, after all, any reason for a party is good enough.  One of the aspects of calendars that fascinates me is that the Hebrew calendar and the Chinese calendar, both lunar, show roughly the same amount of time from “the beginning” with the Hebrew one counting about 1000 more years than the Chinese. However, we have to consider the question, what is a “year”?

The Chinese translate the New Year for us in English as “Spring Festival.”  On the lunar calendar, winter is winding down, while on the solar one, it is just gathering strength.  Here in the middle of China, I observed a bare branch with tiny flowers just opening.  I have not observed any signs of freezing through the whole winter, but it has been uncomfortably cold, because of that rule in Southern China about no central heat in the buildings.  Room heaters are allowed, but you can imagine how effective they are.  Chinese people don’t distinguish between indoors and outdoors, leaving their windows open, and wearing their jackets and scarves indoors.

Our first term is complete, we have turned in our grades, and now our holiday begins.  We wanted to spend some time in preparation for next term, but the classes haven’t been decided yet.  We’ll be traveling, like all the rest of the Chinese world, to visit family, in our case friends who regard us as family.  Then, when we return we’ll receive some American friends as guests for a few days.  We regard them as family, so we look forward to their visit to finish up the break time.  Then the new term will start.

The celebration of Spring Festival is all about a new start, good luck, good fortune.  It is especially wonderful for children, I am told, because they receive gifts of money in red envelopes—hong bao. It is such a simple system,no agonizing over what exact gift to give each child, just the pretty decorated envelope, and the amount for each child in your family.  My students instructed me in the proper form for the family we will visit.  We should put at least 100 quai (rmb) in the envelope, and no more than 200.  We should offer it to the child, who will be instructed to refuse.  Her parents will vigorously protest our gift, but we should just as vigorously insist that we want to give it.  This will happen three times at least, and then we should give it to the child anyway.  Since this child is about one year old, I think it will be difficult to follow the protocol.  Children will also get new clothes, as a symbol of  a new start in the new year.  Many people will wear red, the favorite color of China.  It stands for passion, love, joy, good luck.

Particular foods will have particular meanings–some according to local folklore.  The staple foods of China are pork, chicken, noodles, dumplings and rice.  In some families, one dumpling will contain a coin for good luck, so everyone must eat and eat until that coin is found.  I’ve learned that the style of folding the dumpling varies according to the region. I’ve practiced the Fuling fold, and the Beijing fold.  The flour is high gluten flour, and mixed with water and kneaded it becomes the dumpling dough.  It is formed into a roll, and then cut in thin round slices.  This slice is rolled out with a rolling pin, filled with the meat and vegetable mixture, then folded over to seal.  Then the dumplings are boiled in broth.  It is an artistic process.

We consider it an honor to be invited to Chinese homes for this most important of all celebrations.  If you have Chinese friends, wish them “Gong xi fa cai”  “wishing you prosperity” for the new year.  And, remember, regardless of any calendar, each new day is a new personal start.

I had the privilege of watching the lunar eclipse on a clear bright and cold night. I saw the bright moon turn red, and I wished for proper equipment to take pictures of it. At the same time, I enjoyed just looking at it and making the picture in my own mind. I would have thought many people would be outside to watch this amazing event, but only a few were interested. Our colleagues were not even aware that such a thing was happening.
My dad was a navigator before the days of instrument flying. He taught us to observe the sky. I haven’t learned as much as I would like to know, but I still pay attention.
The moon does appear to be red, and it gives pause when we think of story and song references to “when the moon has turned to blood.”
Just a moonlight ramble here.

Starting a few days ago, Wednesday, I think, cold has settled in.  Today was bright and sunny, but on Wednesday it was rainy and cold.  I mentioned that we would all be more comfortable if it were slightly colder so that the rain would be snow instead.  Few agreed.

I have been sick now since Thanksgiving night.  It’s tough to keep “upbeat” in this condition.  I didn’t miss any class yet, but that walk in the rain was not helpful.  I spent all day Thursday in bed.  I’m feeling somewhat better now, but my one ear is still “plugged.” Today I did some laundry, changed the bed, always an “upper” for a sick person.  I went out on the balcony to hang everything up.  For supper, Dear Husband went on his bicycle to the hamburger shop and brought back burgers, while I made creamed spinach—a comfort food that reminds me of the elderly sisters who hosted a fabulous holiday dinner for us every year.  Evelyn and Martha. What a pair!  How I miss them.

I took out some trash and when I did that I saw a bush blooming with a pink flower.  I’m not sure what it is, but I think it might be camelia.  It is a small and surprising delight that gave me a big lift.  I wish for you, dear reader, a small delight every day.