TheBanyanTree: Transition 27

[Pat M]

Transition 27



A few days before the training center was to open, I received a call from
Margry.

"Can you help me hand out fliers outside some public schools?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "I'm happy to promote the school, and if you have business
cards, I'll hand them out when I'm in town. If anyone stares at me too long,
they'll get a card." I chuckled. "That's what I did in Lintong!"

Wayne had not returned from Hong Kong, which set my nerves on edge. If he
didn't come back, I felt certain I'd be asked to teach his classes, too. In
addition, I realized I was going to be asked to teach at the middle school
four days a week, at the training center several evenings a week and then
teach young children all day Saturdays and Sundays. Things were getting out
of hand and I knew I had to set some boundaries or I'd be run off my feet,
so I spoke with Charls and Margery.

"Before I came, I told you that I only wanted to teach part-time and was
choosing this school in order to avoid the large classes in public schools,"
I said. "I know you want me to take over David's classes but it's going to
be too much for me.  I'll either teach at the middle school or at the
training center; I won't teach at both."

Charls and Margry took it well; they had to. They needed me more than I
needed them. There was no contract in place, which worked to my
advantage.  Because
the pay was so low, they were having a very hard time attracting teachers.

Enrollment was ongoing all week with classes set to start on Saturday, March
8th.

"The parents would like to meet you, and some of them want you to assess
their child's English level," Margry told me. "Can you come to the school
this week?

"Okay.  I really don't have much experience with that but I'll do my best,"
I said.

That week I spent many (possibly unpaid) hours at the school. A foreigner
with pale skin and blonde hair, I was an object of curiosity for potential
students and their parents. I could tell when Margry, Charls, Jenny and Eric
were telling them about me as all eyes turned my way.  Although I couldn't
understand what was being said I know I smiled in all the right places.

In China, a teacher's friendliness is more important than anything else. If
the students don't like a foreign teacher, that teacher will soon be let go.
In Yangshuo and Lintong, I had been a very popular teacher because I truly
enjoy young people and it shows.

The week before classes, the school was a busy place and I wondered how it
could possibly accommodate the numbers of students who were signing up.

"How many students will be in each class?" I queried.

"About ten," Margery said.

The smallest classroom would be hard to accommodate even ten.

            Wayne had not returned from his holiday nor responded to emails
sent to him.

The afternoon before classes started, David and I were both at the school
when Margry said, "We haven't heard anything from Wayne so I've changed the
schedule. Can you teach this weekend, David?"  She passed each of us a
revised calendar. Suddenly, I'd be teaching several more classes and
wouldn't be teaching some classes I'd already prepared lessons for. Oh happy
day!

Meanwhile David threw a fit. He stomped around the school ranting and
swearing; the 'F' word was never so popular.

"It's my last weekend in Sanya and I made plans with friends that I don't
want to break!" he shouted, and then he cursed some more.  "That's what you
get for hiring children!" he barked, and he was right; Wayne had only just
turned 19.  China is so desperate for English teachers that anyone with an
inclination to teach can find a job, especially if they come from Canada,
America, Britain, Australia or New Zealand.

After several minutes of histrionics, David settled down and agreed to work,
but he was not at all happy about it.

I watched his temper tantrum with a critical eye. In Yangshuo the previous
year, I'd seen another teacher 'lose it' and at the time couldn't understand
these overreactions. Little did I know what lay in store for me.

Margry handed me some text books for the new classes I'd be teaching.

Before leaving, I took a look in the grade 1 classroom and felt a wave of
satisfaction as I surveyed it. All was ready. The classroom contained the
small colored plastic chairs I'd requested and the alphabet practice
booklets I'd made for each child sat ready for distribution.  The posters
I'd bought in Xian—animals, colors, numbers, fruit, vegetables—decorated
three walls, and the alphabet, one letter per A4-sized page, extended across
the other. Nothing is easy in China, though. Even finding colored paper to
print the alphabet on had been a chore. I'd had to take Margry with me, and
we'd walked Sanya's streets for a long time before finding a print shop that
sold it. They allowed us to take a few sheets of each color from several
open reams and then Margry had to bargain for it. Because I didn't speak
Chinese (except for some basic words and phrases) I wouldn't have been able
to handle it on my own.

Reality came back in a flash, and I started. I still had plenty to do to be
ready for the following day.
 "Well, I'd better get going," I chirped, as I made a beeline for the door.
"I need to prepare some lesson plans!"

***


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