Stories

The sour taste of beer is still in my mouth, but I manage to keep it in. Walking with my head down, I’m easy meat for the rain drops that feel like small brooks running down my neck. I trail through the streets while concentrating on measuring my steps by the square shaped slabs on the pavement. Two right, two left, two right. My mother used to count like this in the old days when she was still alive and knitting, and when everything was nice and easy. Whenever I miss a slab, I try and thread in the slip into an extended walking pattern. Two right, drop one, one right, drop two. Eventually a crack in the pavement marks a grinding halt to my garter stitch walk. As I trip, my chin dives into a shallow puddle that just about covers the ground. I wait for the pain to show its red screaming face, but my dazed body only vaguely detects the symptoms of agony. Instead, an all consuming feeling of numb indifference starts taking hold of me. 

It is just me and the street. The pouring rain all around me conveys an impression as negligible as a flippant fly buzzing around in a speeding van during the early hours of a sweltering summer afternoon. My water soaked clothes have become the thermal hearth of my body, the street is my cradle. I let my face settle on the cold but patiently welcoming concrete. Ahead of me, only a couple of inches from my eyes, the street lanterns radiate a golden aura which is gently dispersed in the rain water rolling down the steep road. The lights’ flickering reflection is caught in a stream incarnating the aura of an immensely vast number of wake candles. I cannot take my eyes of the water; its subtle beauty entirely enthrals me. It runs down the asphalt in steady formations of low tidal waves that follow the same loose and unfathomable pattern as the flow of rivers and oceans; an order seemingly conjured up by some higher power. A couple of times, I try to single out one of the shallow waves, and then watch it float on. It will not work. The waves roll away from me, merge into each other, and eventually disappear without me being able to locate the very spot where everything gets lost. A phenomenon. Vague ideas of the stream being part of a movement subject to an act of providence dimly enter my mind. But it’s impossible to follow up on this notion. There is only one certainty that now dawns on me like the epiphany enlightens the apostle: knowledge will not help my situation. I am alone. 

Now that I have regained consciousness, I gingerly lift myself to my feet. Looking down at my clothes, it strikes me odd that they look completely soaked. But I try and ignore what could be of any bother to me. After all this time that feels like a small eternity now, I still cannot get over her. It’s been years since she moved out, took the girls, and left me alone with my life. Coming back from work with a knit brow day in and day out simply killed it, killed it off. And then there were the weekends spent with the kids taking turns visiting my or her parents. And every year the same budget holidays by the sea. What should I have done differently? After all it was me who had to do this mundane job of road surfacing. And returning home from a hard day’s work of lifting paving stones and putting them in the same never-ending monotonous sequence did nothing to turn me into a well-balanced man. Finally, after the incident with the foreman that made me come home for good on that scorching day a couple of summers ago, she said she had no choice. 

 Of course, there had been better days. Never before had I felt this way about anybody. Being with her, I simply knew it had to be love. Just the way she used to laugh at all my silly jokes. Or the little sighs of cosy appreciation when her gentle hand lovingly stroked my, what she would call, teddy bear chest. Or how her eyes would squint with her head rocked back when she came to scream in the end as the two of us were lost in an ecstasy of forgetfulness. Looking back, she made time look smooth and tractable. Never again will she squint at me. 

Back at home, I drop my damp clothes on the floor, and try to find warmth between the cold sheets of my bed. Covering myself with the quilt proves useless – a feeling of intensified sobriety is filled with a new sensation of emptiness, an oppressive emptiness. I know it won’t let me go to sleep. So my thoughts restlessly spin around in paved circles that are reminiscent of paint by number routines. I cannot help but let my mind wander from a to b to c, back to a while sometimes taking a detour traversing b again. But it is all paved. After some time, my spin gains such momentum that it feels as if an invisible force has pushed me into a carriage of a crazed roller-coaster, trying to take me for what could be a perpetual ride. I want to get rid of my churning stomach, but I’m not drunk enough any more. 

Outside, a bright day breaks for birds and other non-cognitive creatures. Lying in my double-bed, I can hear them joining in their daily routine of courting each other. A couple of pigeons have begun to stir in the chestnut tree in the rundown courtyard I can see from my window. They have it good. It has been three years since I moved into this council house, and they still coo like new lovers, affectionately rub each other’s beaks, and groom each other’s plumage in a most caring way. I can see the nest they have made for their nestlings, a coarsely spun web of twigs and small branches providing them with a hearth of scraggy, harsh and gnarled comfort. It is their home. The dove couple always sit on the same branch, and whenever one of them flies away, it finds the way back to its mate with instinctive certainty. Now, after what seems years of mutual lack of regard, the third spring season has come to our neighbourhood, and their daily routine remains unfazed. They are unaware of any of their neighbours, and even a slammed window may at best make for a short fright, but is more likely unthinkingly ignored. 

 Pigeons lead a steady life full of regularities and indifference. They chirp, shag, and chirp.

Knit

English teacher in China and his personal experience.

This article is a personal account and is limited to the perspective of the author. The information should not be generalised to reflect the diverse culture or societal values of China today. An invitation is extended to other writers and travellers who can confirm add to or substantiate the information contained in this article. 

I am a foreign oral English teacher in Jiangsu Province, the People's Republic of China. The following story is my own reflection on an oral English lesson I gave to a class of twenty primary school children from grade 1 or grade 2 regarding "The Family". 

On the surface the lesson plan was straightforward and comprised of asking the students to draw a large tree that had a thick trunk with its branches covered in green foliage. The objective was to have each child write the family titles (not personal names) of each member of their family. To simplify the drawing, the family tree would only branch out to include the child's mother/father, uncles/aunts, other siblings and grandparents. 

I drew my family tree on the blackboard and gave a simple explanation of my family of origin. To the amazement of the class my tree was very large and cluttered with smiling stick faces representing my grandparents, my parents and my three brothers and one sister, and one uncle. I could see the expression of wonder and surprise being projected by their dark eyes. To them I was old enough to be their Grandfather and they were puzzled to see me draw such a large tree with twelve smiling faces to their seven. 

The interaction with these young Grade 1 and 2 students gave me a different perspective to the meaning of China's one child policy and the style of parenting. I then ask myself what is the social structure of their families and did these young children accept as normal in their culture. My inquisitiveness uncovered the following results. 

It was normal to have no brothers or sisters. In the majority of cases it was normal to have only one surviving grandmother or grandfather. Uncles and Aunts were rarely mentioned but some did have one cousin. 

Here I was looking into the some of the most innocent, beautiful faces I have ever seen; listening to their tiny voices struggling with oral English, and then it hit me like a lightening bolt that all these twenty children will be without a close living family relative, that is brother, sister when their parents become elderly and face eventual death. I found it difficult to image my life without the mutual and collective support of my brothers and sister throughout my lifespan.

A story behind a family tree

Paul wrote his story about being a foreign teacher in China. What did he understood?

Since that day I have become aware of the noticeable absence of family groups (mother, father and child) in parks and in public. What I see in the street are very young children being cared for by aging grandparents. If I catch a bus at a time when school is finished I see young children being escorted by a grandparent. I vividly remember getting on to an overcrowded bus (which by the way is the norm in China) to see this gentle, small framed Chinese elder wearing his young grand-daughter's brightly coloured school bag on his back standing and protecting her from being trampled by towering adults and jostling newcomers onto the bus. This petite child appeared so happy to be hovered over by her guardian with his arms around her as he was trying to find space on nearby supporting hand rail to keep him from falling over. The two appeared to have little friendly conversations and with lots of smiling exchanges. I could only guess what the conversation was about after I caught her attention. "Why does that man look different?" 

If I am walking past a school entrance more often than not I see only elderly people waiting to escort children home. I am trying very hard, without success, to recall a time when I saw a young child in the company of a person who could be reasonably assumed to be their older brother or sister. When I do see two or three children walking together it is obvious to any observer that their age differences are indistinguishable and there are no apparent telltale signs that they are siblings. 

When I ask the children in my class who they go on holidays with, or who takes them to the park, in the majority of cases it was their Grandma or Grandpa. 

After completing their drawing I would sit alongside each student to kindly and slowly ask them to describe their sketch. To help overcome the difficulty of communicating the meaning behind my questions I would call upon the help of a Chinese English teacher to translate for me. It became evident that the student's parents seem to be always at work six out of seven days a week and did not take holidays from work during the year. 

Another finding was to be told that apart from doing homework the next popular pastime for out of school hours was watching TV or playing computer games. In addition, the girls did more reading than the boys.

A story behind a family tree (2)

English teacher in China and his personal experience. How do children behave at school?

So what started out as a basic oral English class about "families" extended into the realm of the social structure of parenting in China and my own contemplation over what will the future hold for the students in my class if China persists with its existing family planning policy of restricting married couples to having only one child. 

Another point I need to mention is that the ratio to male and female primary school students at my school is approximately 5:1. 

The reader will be left gasping at the enormous scale of socio-economic issues China is attempting to resolve. However, some of the policies and penalties for regulating and controlling family planning make for startling reading. Based on the new laws prohibiting retaliation against those couples who, in the past, did mistakenly have a second pregnancy, I can only guess what cruelty, shame and stress that became the unbearable burden of a man and woman who simply made a misjudgement regarding a woman's fertility cycle. Another law that has to be introduced was to prevent the abortion of unborn children once the parents had tests and found out that it was not the preferred sex. However, when you read into the Family Planning Law there are obvious "loop-holes" to allow such an abortion. 

Another point I would like to raise briefly is child behavioural problems, in particular aggressive and potential violent misdemeanours amongst primary school children at the Chinese school where I teach. I can see signs of aggression present in kindergarten children who are left to board at the school Monday - Friday. They are virtually confined to the classrooms and dormitory and have no contact with their parents unless they become sick or injured. The amount of unprovoked punching, hitting and verbal attacks is starting to be more noticeable the more times I spend with the children and as the school term progresses. 

On a more serious level one senior student was expelled for threatening to kill another foreign teacher at the school. The teacher took action after discovering that he carried a pocket knife as did other students. 

I suggest the reader take the time to digest the following article: Moral education for millions of minors highlighted as priority in China - "Widespread moral problems facing China's 367 million minors under 18, including growing crimes involving juveniles, has become a focal point for Chinese society and political leaders". 

The material in the above article could become the research basis for further investigation. A posting of the findings as they relate to ESL teachers in China would be of special interest to this forum.

A story behind a family tree (3)

Clark describes his childhood in China. What is education like in China?

Your childhood experiences are the ones to mold your perspective on the world and your views on spirituality. 

In my case, these early experiences would eventually lead to my practice of using kungfu. 

I lived in China for 15 years; strictly speaking, my family only consisted of my mother and myself. I was the only child. When I was 5 years old, my parents split up, so my image of my father is blurred based on a few snapshots displayed on black and white photos. He has been away to study and work in England ever since. Because I was the only hope, my mother never allowed me to go swimming or ride the bicycle. Any risky activity -- any kind of exercise that was even slightly dangerous -- was off-limits. At the age of 6, was the first day I began to attend a school. On the day I was awakened at 6 o'clock and rushed into the first classroom in my life minutes before the bell went on. I thought, what's wrong, why so early today? No one had told me, that it was only the start of the 10 year long compulsory education imposed on the Chinese kids. The second day, I was given at least 13 books to carry all the way home; they were heavier than I would like to remember. My primary school life hadn't been so easy for me, because other kids noted I never had a father come to pick me up after school. When they asked me why, I would say my dad was chosen to study abroad and he will come back one day... My mom didn't mention their divorce until I was 9. So gradually those kids at primary school felt superior to me. I often got beaten by some biggie guys, frequently my nose went bleeding. Once it was so bad that I nearly fainted. My mom went to school and reported my disadvantageous situation on occasion, but invisible discrimination on me from many aspects had never been eliminated. Facilities at the school playground were naturally set for naughty guys, I enjoyed playing monkey poles with other boys and fell from a 2 meter high bar at least 3 times a day. But I always climbed back up and continued my alleged gymnastically training. 

When the secondary school started, I was forced to start to study hard. I arrived at school at 7, and lessons finally ended at 6 in the afternoon, however, after-school tuition usually lasted until 10pm so I had to go home in darkness. I hate winters, because my hands and feet always suffered from the cold so that they became very itchy when I was in a warm room. Pieces of my ear skin dropped off after the season. It was tough. We had about 50 students in each classroom, and each classroom was supervised by a senior teacher. We were given the strictest one. Punishment for being late in the morning was always to either stand on back of the class for a week during day-time study period or to copy down a 5 page long article from a particular subject, often the Chinese language, 50 times during the night which we had to hand in the next day or otherwise you would be "awarded" with a longer article. Homework was the object most students hated, our schedules were preoccupied by it all the time. You could hardly complete a piece of homework within 1 hour for a subject, and we usually had 3 main courses to deal with on a daily basis. At the time, China was very poor. Electricity blackouts were not only common -- they were mandated. There wasn't enough power to keep the entire city lit; every night of the week, a different district would go without electricity. It was particularly bad in summers and winters. I remember I often had to complete the homework under the mere light generated by a candle. After all, I couldn't fall asleep, because of the bad conditions. In hot days obnoxious mosquitos keep your hand busy throughout the night. In cold days I would rather sleep with my clothes on in a kitchen, because the temperature in the bedroom was as low as 5 degrees Celsius. We didn't have any means to generate heat. 

At the age of 14 was my final year at secondary school. In China your chances in life heavily depend upon your exam results. Thus I worked head-drop hard months before the final tests, and I knew very well that only a third of the kids would have chances to further their careers at high school. I had to be one of them. 

July 2000, I was accepted by the top 3rd high school in my city. 

By the same time, I faced a dramatic change in my life which was prompted by a mutual agreement between my mother and my father. They decided to give me a better standard of living and perhaps a brighter future by attempting to drag me to the West. I was shocked first and then delighted. I didn't know what my mother's feeling was at the time; I just couldn't wait to see these, big-nose green-eyes, world famous British ladies and gentlemen...

China Kid

How to move from China to Great Britain? Clark wrote his story.

July 14th, I moved to Britain and excitement put me in an ultimate happy mood for weeks, I forgot the tiredness. I mingled with my dad and step-mom smoothly. 

After half a year self English training, I was sent into a local high school. At the time I was exceedingly nervous. Students and teachers enthusiastically welcomed me and spoke to me with a 10 words per minute speed English, but I still hardly understood any terms came out of their mouths. They liked me, because I was pretty outstanding in the math’s class. During break times, the guys were gathered on the playground and shouted out "Clark come over here man!" Because there was a Russian guy who was well taller than me and they wanted to see how this live Bruce Lee could fight against a big Western. In the first round of the spar, I caught his little finger and slightly twisted it, so he had to follow my hand's movement, and therefore, I put him on the ground by a bare hand. Since then, no one ever made the second challenge, and I got to know that he was the strongest guy in the school. I was actually quite proud as in China I never had chance to be seen like this. 

During the two years course in the high school, I frankly didn't achieve very much academically. The language put me down all the time. Needless to say, the British education system is very relaxing. I often found myself don't want to do as much work as before, it is terrific. The only triumph I had was a "Merit Award of Mathematics" at the end of the year. 

Socially, I don't enjoy the British style of the off-work activity, pubs. In my opinion they are distant people, polite but conservative. In fact, I become more and more independent as a result of the odd culture. 

Since year 2000 I've taken great interest in designing and maintaining websites. With a large amount of effort and a small amount of time, I managed to construct a personal web and launched on a free hosting server, with 3 pop-ups and 2 hidden adverts at the same time. I gradually acquired the sense of professionalism and redesigned my sites again and again, and the first award or the official reorganization was that my school put up my URL on their website as an example of the IT students' brilliance. Actually I hadn't even attended an IT lesson. 

I progressed, as recent as 1 year ago; the Flash version of the site won a few official website design awards. And I even started a business of web design. Nowadays, I devote much time in pursuit of Search Engine Marketing, which is very critical to firms which heavily depend on internet sales. Of the science, patience and vast knowledge are required. I constantly seek help and swap experiences with other webmaster at Webmaster Forum. 

While I am always keeping an eye on free resources of English learning materials on the internet, www.english-test.net drew my attention on the first day Torsten joined the webmaster community. I checked it out page by page, and was so impressed by its content and design that I sent an email asking to volunteer in his team. I was delighted when he accepted my offer. 

Since then the website has grown bigger and more popular by an incredible speed and I think now the solid and hard work which Torsten, Alan and Slava have been putting in now comes to fruition.

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