Here is yesterday's Albuquerque Tribune column, as promised:
The World of Teens
The hot, humid Chinese weather drags us down, but the fresh faces and hopes uplift us
By Arthur Alpert
(The following are notes from Alpert’s trip to China, where he taught English in July and August.)
Nanjing, first day
The steps to the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Mausoleum are too many and sooo steep. At the halfway point, I am wet with perspiration. Discretion, I decide, is the better part of machismo, and I sit. A Chinese teenager asks in English if I am American. We chat. Daisy, the teen, says her father writes novels. She has graduated from high school at the head of her class and hopes to study at Harvard.
By this time, we are encircled by a small crowd of curious Chinese eaves- droppers. When the other American teachers descend, they snap photos of the scene.
Daisy writes her father’s name and three of his titles for me and I give her my address before we part.
Her mother, who understands no English, sits, beaming, throughout.
First Classes
What neat kids! Neat as in well-dressed and well-scrubbed. Well-mannered, too.
Children of China’s new middle-class, they have been enrolled by parents determined that they will have English to get rich by. At 13 to 15 years old, they have studied grammar for years and say, "Good morning" and "How are you?" with gusto.
Several, however, don’t understand much and speak less. The majority grasp my meaning but are too timid to reply. And a handful are stars – bright, bold and hell-bent on communicating in English. They’re like Zorro, whose thinking is so fast and whose ideas are so complex that they require more words than he has.
"Zorro?" All but a few of these kids have chosen English names. Most are traditional, such as Grace, Molly, Jennifer and Jessica. But I have two Zorros in my class and next door there’s a lovely girl who calls herself "Ghost"!
I ask the kids about their ambitions. They want to be teachers, musicians, doctors and – says one quiet girl – a "superstar."
Grime and punishment
We American teachers here love the kids but hate the weather. In this sprawling school about 20 minutes from Nanjing, we calculate that it’s between 105 and 110 degrees Fahrenheit – they use Celsius – and we guess the humidity is 90 percent.
I’m dragging.
A Shanghai TV station reports one day that it is "over 38 degrees." Huh? A fellow teacher has heard that all work must cease when it hits 40.
The Chinese tube
Chinese TV viewers, like Americans, now know that Head & Shoulders shampoo will turn drab, lonely lives into fairy tales. Some Chinese commercials differ, though, from ours. They use clinical illustrations of female anatomy to sell certain remedies. And they push breast enhancement products with amazing animation; bosoms swell instantly and men, of course, applaud.
A small victory
Jian Zhu, the University of New Mexico teacher of Chinese who created this cultural exchange, often has said its success depends on our being ourselves. I think of that when Violin, 14, shares her conclusion that Chinese teachers are "rigid" and Americans are "open."
Then she floors me. "They teach words," she confides. "You teach us the world."
I refuse to tear up.
Alpert is at home recuperating from his trip. Email him at arthuralpert@swcp.com. His column runs the fourth Thursday of the month in Insight & Opinion.