A Teacher Forever

This article was originally published in Christian Educators Journal in '87 and reflects my 1985 experience in Chengdu, Sichuan Province. China was not then what it has become today. So much has changed,and some of my former students have died. I had the chance many years later to visit one of my older students, who had become a special friend,in his home city. Some came to the U.S.to pursue advanced education and made this country their home. One calls me Dad and became a high school teacher here.China will always have a special place in my memory. ................................................................................... My eye happened to fall on one of my Chinese students, relaxing in her seat during the ten-minute break between afternoon lectures. She was a beauty with that creamy, almond-colored complexion and big shiny eyes. It was a steamy summer afternoon in Chengdu, China, and my student in the Sichuan College of Education classroom stood up, lifted her dress, and sat down on her panties, This wholly unselfconscious gesture had startled me when I first saw it for it seemed so out of keeping with the well-known Chinese modesty. But I had grown used to it, though I never understood how sitting on a sticky seat became more comfortable that way. What I saw next, I never grew used to: this charmingly dressed and beautiful young woman cleared her throat, bent over, and expectorated on the classroom floor, rubbed her feet over the spittle and casually resumed conversation with her nearest neighbor. There were thirty of us American teachers on this Chinese campus, and all of us encountered many such paradoxes. For example, to Chinese students the teacher is a formidable authority figure, yet many of our students, who themselves were teachers of high school English, would blithely ignore our instructions and commands; though they prize integrity as a viirtue, yet no honor system worked in any test-taking situation; though they surely meant to pay me their highest compliment when they said I was strict and hard, yet they seemed to appreciate especially those times when the demands were low and the laughter flowed freely; though they could be quite status conscious and discriminatory among themselves, yet from us they demanded equal attention. Yes, what I remember about my Chinese students is not so much such inconsistencies, nor their tendency toward pretest panic and last-minute cramming that would both amuse and annoy us, nor their apparent imperviousness to specific explanations and instructions that often surprised and frustrated us; rather, what I remember most is that which in time engendered in me a lasting admiration, respect, and love for so many of them. I came to admire many of my students for their earnestness. They would break off their afternoon sushi early to get the front seats in the lecture room for what they expected would be maximal learning. They would copy everything I would write on the board, especially the famous quotes of the day and the words of the songs we would teach them. And they would study diligently under such noisy and crowded conditions that effective study seemed all but impossible. My students knew hardship and suffering. The Culteral Revolution had ended less than a decade ago. The older students talked of its excesses and cruelty, of the painful personal toll it had exacted from them and families. For most it had meant an end to their education, to their ambitions and dreams. After the revolution they had been assigned to teach, often far from family and friends. And there they were stuck, at twenty-five dollars a month or less, in a profession for which they had not been well-trained, which was not yet particularly highly regarded by their country, and from which they often failed to derive mush personal satisfaction. Yet they were dedicated! They wanted to become better teachers of English and of students. And they still knew how to enjoy life. As often as time would allow, they would take an evening stroll with each other or with us, or they would gather to play games, to sing, to dance, to laugh. Highly musical, they would be apt to launch into a song, or dance even during class breaks. And they reveled as children when we taught them such American grade school games as Blind Man's Bluff, Drop the Handkerchief, and Spin the Bottle. I came to respect them for their fortitude, their strength of character, and their love of life, despite its burdens. But before we left in the last part of August, I came to love many of my students as well. As Christian teachers we were committed to model the kindness and love of Christ among ourselves and to our students. Apparently few of them had ever been thus treated by their teachers. They were deeply touched and grateful. Their responsiveness over- whelmed us. They said they wanted to be such teachers, too. And they let us into their lives, into their hearts, and shared wuth us their burdens and their hopes. Out of their scarcity, they generously treated us to outings, parties, and beautiful presents. On our departure day many delayed their own trip home to stay with us as long as possible: they cried, and they told us that we would be their teachers forever. I pray that they're right. We wrote to many of them. And because they now have a special place in our hearts, we surely hoped to return and see them again some day. I often think now of that inspiring Chinese saying: "Teacher for a day, a father (mother) forever." Is there a more important challenge?