The Smaller Events

I'm standing at the front of my classroom - it's breaktime.  On my left a group of boys is throwing something into the ceiling fan and it ricochets out the window.  The girls are somewhat more peacefully occupied rifling through my teaching supplies at the desk.  One of the kids is drawing a rather graphic war scene on the chalkboard next to another young rascal who is working on the finishing touches of a portrait - in other words, the boogars.  I'm in the middle of all this engaged in a paper-scissors-stone competition with one of the rowdier little boys - Arthur - and we're playing that the loser takes a levered flick to forehead - I've held my own, so I think we're both a little dazed.  This next class will mark what's probably 300 plus games of animal bingo I've played in a classroom this semester.  I love my job, but I just fell for this weekend.

Saturday I went to a 'dodgebee' (dodgeball, only with a frisbee) tournament for a school I taught at sometime this month.  I know the English teacher there and he lets me know when practice is.  I've gotten to join in a few days here and there for training so I've spent a bit more time with these kids than I get to with most.  

I sit on the sidelines talking with them until it's their match.  They line up and we all high-five before they go out on the court.  They're incredibly good at the game - I was so proud when they won.  I couldn't make it to the next match, but I got a text today telling me that they took third in the national competition.  I'm hoping to see them again soon.  

As I sat in that gymnasium on Saturday listening to all that little team, I realized - though not for the first time - that I was basically deaf.  The little boys chattered to me and laughed and commented on the game in front of us, and I smiled and strained to understand.  But it didn't matter...I wouldn't have mattered if I was deaf because I would have experienced the same feeling - an outsider trying to break into the circle where they would be so welcome if only they could get in.  I wonder how much they could have - would have said to me if only we could understand each other.  Child-eyes might speak, but I know now that they can never tell enough.

I went out to buy dinner the other night and as I stood waiting for my rice, the cook and waitress were having an animated conversation about something and laughing over it- maybe a customer, maybe a kitchen incident.  We exchanged smiles when they glanced at me, but I could see they realized I didn't understand.  They can talk freely because it is as if I never heard their lively banter in the first place.  I'm missing out on a world here...and one of the only consolations is the fact that I'm mostly unable to realize it.

The Road Home

I'm balancing on a six inch wide wall of concrete that cuts through the rice field we have to get across.  I readjust my precariously placed backpack - there's about 200 feet left to go.  I'm on my way home from a visit to my friend Celia in middle Taiwan.  We're going into the city by bus so I can catch my train.  The last time I made this trek I had no seat on the train, and this trip was no different.  I say goodbye to Celia and hop on a car to try and find a good standing place.  I end up in the middle of the aisle with other poor pilgrims who didn't purchase their ticket in advance.  I'm next to two young girls who are pestering each other to be the first to say 'hello' to me.  I don't speak a lot of Chinese, but I could gather that much from the giggling and backward glances.  With half an hour left to my trip the conductor stamps my ticket and finds me an empty seat next to three college students - one of whom was a foreign exchange student in America for ten months.  I struggled to communicate with another woman questioning me in Chinese about the cram school teacher in front of us... "No, I don't know him."  "Yes, he works at a cram school."  "Yes, he is probably from America too."  Once I finally got to the station I switched trains at, I made a query as to where my train would depart from..."EH?" the lady asked me... "To Chaojhou!" I repeated... a college student came to my rescue and said "I'm on the same train, it leaves in two minutes from the platform over." We started booking it towards the bridge and all of the sudden my hand was taken by the lady I had first asked..."Follow me! I'll take you too, but we have to run!!"  All three of us practically flew up the three flights of stairs to the bridge, across the bridge and then down three more flights of stairs to the platform.  Me and the student jumped on with just enough time for me to wave to the lady and thank her.  When the conductor came around, my new friend wouldn't let me pay for my ticket adjustment... after a short conversation, I found out he has a sister living in Illinois and hopes to travel there someday.  Once he got off at his stop, a soldier-turned-postman-from-the-east-side came and interrogated me as to what I was doing here... he gives out the customary exclamation when he finds out how old I am and asks what on earth am I doing teaching English in a foreign country at my age.  I laugh and for a brief moment, wonder myself.  I've been traveling for about five hours - met a trainload of new people - and I'm a little glad to get off at my own  station, where I'm picked up by my team and go home...tomorrow is a full day of teaching.