Year Eight: Month Number One

As it is with most endeavors in life, when one looks back upon them, in retrospect, the events of life seem to have slipped by rather easily and more rapidly than we can recall.  Even the difficult periods in life, when viewed in the "rear-view mirror," tend to look barely like speed bumps.  So it has been with seven years in China:  as I start my eighth year teaching at Kunming International Academy, the seven previous years, the years that include--most importantly--my marriage to Suli and the births of our two boys, appear to have begun only yesterday and seem to have flashed by like the wave of a Chinese fan.  While the Middle Kingdom is definitely less of an adventure, being here remains a blessing.  But if I want to renew that sense of wonder, the sense that filled everyday during those first couple years, all I have to do is go to the bicycle shop on my own.  I will not say that China has become predictable--it is far from that--but I will say that the unpredictability has gotten to the point where it feels comfortable.

 The tail end of this year's rainy season reminds me of my first year in Kunming, when six lane roads had only one land--in the middle of the street--that was not under water.  Summer is the rainy season, and while Suli, Oswin, August, and I missed the major portion of the floods that engulfed huge portions of downtown Kunming, August (the month) still provided us with ample opportunity to experience the deluges that are rather common to Kunming's wet season.  We even got some "pane-rattling, gully-washin' cloud bursts" that reminded me of growing up in Nebraska.  These thunderstorms also created a few frightened tears in the two boys.

Every year, fellow teachers tell me how the students talk about how "difficult" Mr. Franks's class is.  I guess I don't see that.  Granted, I do not have to pull grades in my own classes, but I really feel like, after seven years, my classes have gotten to the point where everyone receives ample opportunity to increase his or her abilities in reading and writing.  In any case, I love it when I see the students engaged in the reading and writing process.  These grade 11 students, studying British Literature, are discussing how the selections in their summer reading assignment adhere to the traits of Post-Modernism.  The moral relativism of the Post-Modern era is a difficult starting point, but the students tend to enjoy the literature more than starting right away with Beowulf.  Plus, when we do flash back to the Anglo-Saxon era, they tend to have a greater appreciation for the foundations of British Literature.  As a side note, it is always more fun to study British Literature when I have British students in class, and this year I have two.  The young woman on the right side of the photo happens to be one of them.

While the first month of school has been rather rainy (in fact, the last week of classes did not see a single dry day), the first day of school was marked by sunny, clear skies.  So it was, when I opened my door on that first day, the rising sun angled through the door just enough to turn the waiting desks and chairs into classroom ghosts.  I am convinced that the school's walls, desks, and chairs grow lonely each summer, wishing to feel the hands and bodies of the students on their various surfaces.  In this pictures, I can almost feel the anticipation of the classroom, looking forward to the return of students.

After the 2008-09 school year, Kunming International Academy moved south, from our old in the YanJiaDi neighborhood of Kunming, to our current location at HuPanZhiMeng.  During those first two years at this location, the land south of the school ("behind" the school) was all lotus ponds--prime breeding grounds for mosquitoes, but also beautifully green most of the year.  Since that time, much construction has gotten underway.  The lotus ponds are gone, taking many of the mosquitoes with them.  However, what has replaced the green is a new (but not complete) six-lane road, a giant new apartment complex, and construction cranes as far as the eye can see.  Well, maybe that is an overstatement.  One can still see the Xi Shan (Western Hills) cliffs from the fifth floor of our school.  These 1,500 vertical feet cliffs, flashing orange and red rock formations in the morning light, remind me that man cannot construct buildings that come anywhere near the august beauty and magnificence of Creation.

While HuPanZhiMeng does not always feel like China--it is so manicured compared to the majority of the country--certain things remind me that I am in a different country.  Evenings at the soccer field is the biggest reminder.  Gathering at about 19.30h, nearly sixty people--depending on the weather--gather to participate in a kind of marching workout.  In the West, when we think of China, we often think of hundreds of "students" practicing "gongfu" in unison, following their master's movements.  Movies like the remake of The Karate Kid and events like the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Beijing Olympics reinforce these traditional views of Chinese culture.  Strangely enough this walking workout adheres to the common view of the country.  At the head of the group are one to three women providing the "form" for the movement.  Marching in lines of three or four are the other sixty people doing the workout.  Naturally, the closer one is the "form," the more accurate the movements are.  However, watching how sixty people can perform in relative unison helps maintain the traditional Western view of this Eastern culture.

Marching is not the only pass-time:  mothers with babies come to discuss the joys and labors of being mothers.  School children who have been stuck in the classroom from 07.00 until 18.00 come out to ride bikes, kick the soccer ball, jump rope, and generally scream and run about.  Naturally, another one of China's pass-times--badminton--can almost always be observed.  And in the photo above, our 'xiao qu' (neighborhood) has gotten used to an older man and his trumpet performing each evening.  Suli, Oswin, August, and I head out to the track and field whenever it is not raining.  We play with balloons, balls, and scooters, and when the Chinese children and mothers gather around the two "foreign" boys, we try our best to smile and play with everyone else.

This first month of my eighth year has been great.  I still find wonder in China, and China still wonders about me.  Naturally, I can speak more Mandarin than those first years, so the people feel more comfortable around me.  Also, when the Chinese people see that my wife is one of them, they are more willing to accept me as part of their community.  I don't know how many years we will remain here, but China feels like home:  much the same way Nebraska and Minnesota and Montana and Wisconsin and Seattle and Chicago feel like home.