Students Before Swine

On Wednesday (or as I personally like to refer to it as, my version of Monday this week) I was reminded by some students of an important milestone in my teacher career. However, when I say "reminded," I don't mean to imply that this was some casual walk down memory lane; instead, picture 12 laughing 11th grade students surrounding me and bumper-car pushing me down a muddy path. That'll be a bit closer to the truth.

This tale is quite dear to this particular class' memories because it delves back to my first year as a teacher. 4 years ago I was new to China, overwhelmed, and lacking experience dealing with herds of students; they were prepubescent, energized, and often uncontrollable in the classroom. This made for a winning combination, and I often dreaded showing up to class. I felt nervous and unprepared, but I decided that I could overcome this nausea by becoming "super teacher." I decided that to best suppress my inexperience and naivety I would build a teaching legacy of creativity, hands-on activities, and become a teaching idol for young educators everywhere.

Because everyone knows that the best way to achieve success is through inexperience and ambition...

Our story truly begins one fateful day, in the midst of a fantastically thought-out lesson. I was reading books in both my eighth grade classes and in my tenth grade class that featured a pig. Trying to make learning "fun" and hands-on, I debated about what kind of lesson I could use that would create a memorable, yet educational, experience for my students. Bringing a pig to school seemed like the obvious solution.

In my mind I pictured a cute, well-mannered, rosy skinned little piglet that I could carry around with me during the day as I travelled from class-to-class, spreading swinish-joy. The students would watch a short video and then play with the pig until the end of class. Looking back, it doesn't sound like the worst idea, however, experience can be a cruel teacher.

Through a fellow teacher, and some connections through our cafeteria (don't think about the implications of this relationship), that Friday morning our school's driver set out to pick up a piglet from a local pork farm. I waited expectantly all morning, darting back and forth to the office window, for the arrival of the main event until around 10am when they arrived. They? Yes...they.

 

It seems the teacher who assisted me thought that just 1 piglet would be lonely and sad without the company of another sibling. However, I did not learn of this until I met the school's van at the gate and received a box containing 2 heavy, foul-smelling, adolescent pigs. Yes, the dream of the petite, pint-sized piglet had just burst into flames.

Before taking them to any of my classes, I attempted to bathe the two squirming masses in the teacher's dorm. That's how badly they smelled. The bath vaguely improved their scent, but there wasn't much else I could do with limited time and nervous pigs. However, I tried to not let these obstacles phase me. I mean, it was still going to be a surprise for my students and for my grade 10 students it was nearly show time.

Grade 10
Before the students returned form their morning exercise, I was able to sneak the box into the classroom so that it sat under the desk residing at the front of the room. The pigs were fairly quiet at this point and I smiled inwardly as my unware students filled back into their seats, oblivious to the fun that was about to be had.

The plan was my students would play a short game focused on pig trivia, during which time I would stealthily remove said pigs from the box. By the end of the game, I expected both pigs to appear from under the desk and pleasantly surprise my students. This is not exactly what happened.

Students played the game. I removed pigs from box, quite stealthily. When game concluded, there were 2 sniffling pigs under my desk and students were curious but not yet wowed. I began to nudge the pigs out from under the desk with my shoe, and a couple of things happened simultaneously:

1. The students did see the pigs and were excited. 
2. The pigs saw the students and were terrified.
3. 1, if not both pigs, began to urinate all over the floor.

From an objective, uninformed bystander's point of view, I had just brought 2 confused pigs into a classroom of students to pee on the floor. Awesome. (On a related note, in between classes I moved the pigs into our office's conference room, where they again peed on the floor.)


Grade 8 
I taught two middle school English classes, 8A and 8B. The idea was the lower-level English students were regulated to one class and the higher students were instructed in another. I have mixed feelings about this approach to language learning, but let's get back to pigs.

On this particular Friday I taught 8B students before lunch and 8A at the end of the school day, several hours later. I quickly realized that teaching with these pigs came with a steep learning curve. I knew I couldn't let the pigs roam around the room unless I wanted to repeat the "floor baptism" that occurred several times earlier that day. So, my next plan was pretty simple: bring a pig to the students. During class, I decided to choose the least fussy pig from the box and carry it around the desks for the students to pet. No students would be running around so the pig should be less terrified and I would be in control of the situation more than I was earlier.

Of course, this seems like a simple plan, however I was surprised by 2 things. Did I say 2 things? No, I mean number 2. As soon as I had one pig cradled in my arms, I had barely taken 10 steps down the center aisle when this seemingly tranquil pig had a spasm of diarrhea, shooting a trail of putrid brown sludge down my dress onto the floor. Again, at this time, multiple things occurred at once:

1. The pungent smell of poop strongly erupted into the room
2. Students in the nearby rows immediately begin gagging at the stench
3. Noise, such noise as students giggled and screamed in response to this outburst
4. A couple students flew into action, opening the windows and running for the mop
5. I experienced an overwhelming wave of embarrassment and the rapidly growing urge to die

As a new teacher staring into the eyes of 20 middle school students, whom I already questioned regarding their ability and desire to respect me in class, I felt that my status and reputation was not improving with the blush blooming upon my cheeks and the thick line of pig refuse prominently displayed on my clothes. In this moment, I inwardly repeated the mantra that quickly was becoming the theme of my first year teaching: "They don't know you're scared. You're the teacher...fake it till you make it."

I quickly returned the pig to the box and forced myself to laugh while I frantically used tissue to daub at my dress. Unexpected things happen, but I wanted the students to see that I had a good sense of humor about getting pooped on...at least, on the outside. The room was cleaned, aired out, and I eventually regained control of my class. Lesson learned: you can bring a pig to children but you can't keep it from crapping on your dress.

Fortunately for me, while disappointing to my 8A students, my last class of the day with my special guests was much less eventful. At this point, word had spread across grade 8 and they all knew of my pig debacle in 8B. They knew pigs were coming, and many of them were hoping to see some poo.

After two bumpy attempts, by the end of the day I had finally arrived at the best solution to my pig-student interaction debacle: don't bring the pigs to the students, let the students come to the pigs. I kept the two pigs inside their box and set it on top of the teacher's desk. Then, I allowed students to approach the box and reach inside to touch the pigs. It was so simple! I couldn't believe how my over ambitiousness and dramatic ideas had overcomplicated the situation.

At the end of the day, I was quite happy to load the pigs into their awaiting chariot (aka, the school's van) and see them drive off, leaving the school and my stress-filled day behind them. Overall, I don't regret the ambition of this plan. Considering all things, the students did have fun, and four years later they recall this story as a cherished memory (possibly because this has never
happened to any of their teacher's before, despite their personal hopes and dreams that a pig would defecate on them).

Since then, I haven't attempted to bring any more domestic creatures into my classes. I'm not that brave or prepared at the moment, but I do think that for an entirely unexperienced green teacher, it wasn't the worst lesson with which to start off my career. I might never be a teaching idol to others, but I can attest that I continue to learn from my mistakes, and working in a school ensures that you never have a dull moment (curtesy of  my unpredictable students and my own unpredictable, overzealous ideas).

My Apps

One of the things I adore most about living in China is the convenience. By convenience, I am referring to several apps that I’m becoming more dependent on daily. By "dependent," I strongly imply that if these apps disappear from my life, my world might possibly crumble inwardly and then burst into flames. They say the things that you love most often hurt you the most. Let's see if these is indeed true:

1.       WeChat

 Over the last few years, I think Americans have heard more about this particular app. This is the app of all apps: the app King. Everyone has it. Friends use it. Families use it. Businesses use it. People in Asia, from my humble observation, even use Wechat more frequently than texting and phone calls combined. I rarely text, and China doesn’t have voice mail on their calls, but neither of these things are truly necessary as long as you have this powerful app. 
Imagine if Skype, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Paypal, and your phone company got together to create 1 master app. It might look a little something like Wechat.

You can leave up to 60-second voice messages, see what your friends are up to, share pictures and videos, upload files, send your real-time location, share music, video chat, voice call...and that’s just a taste of the communication tools.

Need to pay your phone, gas, or electric bill? Use Wechat. Owe your friend money? Use Wechat. Want to buy movie, plane, or train tickets? Use Wechat. Lost and need directions? Use Wechat. Paying for lunch? Use Wechat. Looking to buy or sell something? Wechat. Need a ride somewhere? You guessed it, Wechat!

Nearly every financial responsibility I have can be taken care of easily and securely with Wechat. It’s truly 1 app to rule them all *cue epic Lord of the Rings soundtrack*.  In America, there are many good apps that are useful, but America relies more on different apps performing different roles. Asia…well, they just need Wechat.

As much as I enjoy traveling back to America each summer, I always get a little sad when I step off the plane in Detroit and realize I can no longer pay for my coffee or message my local friends using Wechat. It’s just not used very much in America. (Something about security purposes and not wanting the Chinese government to constantly know what’s going on with their phones…but that’s a small price to pay for such convenience, no?)  

2.       Taobao

Not sure if this is my second-favorite Asian app  (I am rather fond of Didi, the ride sharing app), but I must admit that this particular app does eat away at my savings and is used fairly regularly by yours-truly: Taobao. This is the Asian version of Amazon and Ebay. In fact, Amazon does have a Chinese version, but not many people use the site. Especially not when they have Taobao or JD.

This site houses a variety of sellers and online stores that attempt to fulfill your every need and desire. Food, clothes, electronics, entertainment-related objects, books, and more can all be quickly and easily purchased and shipped to you within days. You can track your goods using the app, to see how far it is along in the shipping process, and the seller will even message you once it’s been given to the delivery companies. These messages tend to brighten my day, and not just because they are bringing my purchases one-step closer into being in my possession. They often bring me immense joy to read when translated by Google.

This app is even one of the main proponents of comfort when considering a bleak, worst-case-scenario future as a dotty-old single woman or a victim of a tragic accident in which I lose the function of my legs. I am no longer troubled by the possibility of becoming a shut in, house-bound, agoraphobic, or the Asian-version of Miss Havisham. Why? Because I can receive everything I need, and more, to survive through the wonder that is this app.

This amazing app, like most online shopping venues, contains things you never even knew were missing from your life. Some of these things are truly what dreams are made of, both the stuff of fantastical musings and the occasional nightmare. To better elaborate this point, let me share with you some of the gems I’ve stumbled upon in the last year. No, I haven’t purchased any of these items (yet). And, no, I'm also not entirely sure what all of these things are...

 

            

        

If I haven’t sold you on the extreme usefulness of this app, I’m not sure what else I can say or do to convince you. Who doesn’t want to interact with the occasional pushy Chinese shop owner because they’d like an outstanding online review? What do you mean you’ve never wanted to navigate a web browser entirely in Chinese in an attempt to receive a refund for that carton of heavy cream that exploded inside the cardboard box that was delivered to you? Who cares that it was only $6. That's your money! 

Ok, so it’s not a perfect system, but this app usually has more hits than misses. The sellers are failry interested in working with you and show great reliability and professionalism. Usually. I mean, something this convenient is worth the occasional mix-up or flub, right? I’d like to think it keeps the app humble. We wouldn’t want it to get a swell, over-popularized opinion of itself. I mean, it’s no Wechat.

Living with the Locals

Hello, hello!

*insert generic excuse that culminates in the following reasons on why I've once again fallen behind in my blogging duties: I was busy, forgetful, and/or tired; I've had no time for adventuring; I've forgotten the entirety of English language and now only communicate with grunts and hand gesturing; and/or I've been too busy marathon-ing "The Office" for the umpteenth time.*

Now that the excuses are out of the way, please accept my humble apology and let's proceed.

This year, as most of you who are relatively familiar with who I am and where I am (for those not familiar with me, I shall enlighten you quickly: Sarrah, lives in China), I have found myself blessed beyond the average expat by having the good fortune of living in a comfortable & fancy (by my impoverished standards) apartment. It's a reasonably priced 90 square meter home with 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, an adorable kitchen, a cozy living room, and is fully furnished. My own place to host parties and with my students and practicing "adulating." I pay my own bills and  everything.

Of course, this gem of mine is not truly my own. I am only a renter, after all, and my fabulous apartment has come hand-in-hand with the dutiful gamble every tenant signs up to: what kind of landlord did I get?

Ah, the landlord.
I think the great Forest Gump may have said it best when describing such individuals in his renowned "box of chocolates" speech. (That is what his speech was about, wasn't it?) Landlords, like those relatively cheap heart-shaped Valentine's Day candy boxes are a true mystery. While you really don't know what you're going to get, once you start the renting process you do realize what flavor chocolate you'd rather not indulge in. After all, a chalky, toothpaste-filled, lovely-to-behold-at-first-glance-but-will-sucker-punch-your-taste-buds type landlord will absolutely ruin your renting experience, regardless of how affordable or luxurious your residence may be.

I'm relieved to be able to inform (and humbly brag) that my landlord is a very pleasant, even-tempered, and ridiculously helpful individual. For my first renting experience, in any country, I must say the bar has been set fairly high. For a first grab inside the chocolate box, my landlord will be a hard act to follow. He's the chocolate from the box that you grab without much thought, not really sure what's lurking inside, but soon find that you are pleasantly surprised by your choice. While this chocolate seems ordinary to any other chocolate, it is not filled with sharp orange zest, but instead a delicious peanut-butter flavor enriches your chocolate experience.

(Yeah forgive me, that metaphor got a little weird...)

From a geographic standpoint, my apartment is located near some mountains, tucked away in a little corner of the city. While I'm not really close or terribly convenient to downtown (where the fun hustle-and-bustle of Qingdao society exists), I am privy to less traffic, friendly  locals, cleaner air (usually), and gorgeous scenery.

Also, in addition to these perks, my dwelling resides in the same building complex that my school is in, so my daily commute to school is a mere 7 minute walk (10 if I'm stopping to smell the flowers or smile at cute Chinese babies).

I was told that before this area was more developed there was a village located here. A company wanted to come in and build apartments, so they gave the villages quite a hefty sum for the land and each person received their own apartment as well. Many families own multiple apartments and are fairly well-off financially. This means that the community is tight-knit and self-sufficient, and a fair number of unused apartments were available, so many of the residences were willing to lease these spaces to teachers from the 2 schools (including my own) that recently relocated to this area.

In this community, "everybody knows everybody" (like a Chinese Mayberry), and the area feels very safe and familial. After dinner most evenings, many families go outside for leisurely strolls. On the street, when passing another resident, it's common to exchange a smile and a friendly greeting. Regardless of how much or little I might interact with the other locals on any given day, overall I feel accepted and welcomed in this community. I've felt this harmony from the day I first moved in.

When I first moved to this area at the beginning of the school year, I returned to my apartment late one Saturday evening. My hands were full of grocery bags, and as I trudged up the countless stairs to reach my door I was completely focused on making it inside my apartment so I could be reunited with my one love, my bed. Early the next morning I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. Poor Chinese language skills. on my part combined with the actual brainpower it takes to translate so early in the morning made this call more than a little difficult for me to understand.

Before we ended the call, I couldn't glean much information from him regarding why he was calling.
1. He was insistent on telling me something and extremely patient with my poor understanding
2. He was not a delivery guy. I was very sure of this fact...I asked twice.
3. He knew where I lived.
4. He was about to bring me money. I wasn't sure why, but when someone tells you this, you don't argue. Just go with it.

After our call ended, I rose from my bed, confused but expecting this strange guy to arrive at some point that morning. Shortly after I was dressed there was a knock on my door, and after opening the door I was immensely grateful that I didn't hang up on him when he called, for standing on my doormat was a middle-aged Chinese guy holding my wallet.

Apparently, I had dropped my wallet the night before near the entrance gate to my apartment complex, and this good Samaritan had found it. Between carrying all my bags and arriving home so late, I didn't even notice it was missing. He had opened my wallet and found a copy of my rent agreement, which had my address and phone number, so was able to call me and return my "money."

I was so impressed with the caliber of the community and this guy's honesty. I wasn't missing any money or cards, and he didn't even ask for a reward (well, not in the conventional sense.) He did ask if I could teach his elementary-aged son English, however, I was able to politely decline, in what I hoped was only a mildly-awkward response.

Living in this new location has granted me both feelings of security and adventure. Safe adventure. Is that an oxymoron? It's an ideal location to experience interesting occurrences without having to venture out too far. In fact, I've had many interesting and humorous interactions with others merely standing at the front door of my apartment, from people who knock on the wrong door (and are surprised by the sweatpants-clad white woman who does not even remotely resemble their Chinese friends/family members) to the time a nice, but insistent woman arrived to borrow some dishes I had put away in storage (I thought she was a cleaning lady my landlord hired and was slightly confused and annoyed when she began to search all over the kitchen, and then the entire house, for pots and pans).

And I'm constantly surprised by the level of adventure that I encounter inside my apartment building. One morning I walked outside to see that my next door neighbor's doormat was pushed away from the door. I don't really blame them for wanting to put some distance between them and their mat. If my doormat had, what I'm hoping was dog, poop sitting on it, I'd push it away from where I live too. When I came home from work the offending object had vanished, and apartment 501 had reclaimed their doormat. This will remain a mystery to me, because as far as I know, they don't own a dog...

Another exciting occurrence shortly after I moved in: my downstairs neighbor (I'm on the fourth floor, he was on the first) died. Ok, I can't prove it, but the evidence was not in his favor.

1. He was constantly coughing up lung-fulls of what sounded like his own lungs...so. poor health.
2. One day, the coughing stopped, after which there was a procession of wailing women who walked through the neighborhood.
3. Said wailing women entered into my building and,  what I assume was, his apartment. 
4. For a week or so after this, incense appeared in the stairwell and was constantly burning right outside his apartment

Now, I'm no detective, but I think it's safe to assume he no longer lives here. But you know what they say, "out with the old, in with..." Too soon? Yeah, you're probably right.

My community also has a variety of useful resources: a couple of co-op stores (both general grocery and fruit/veggie), drinking water pumps, trash collections, a couple local restaurants, and several walking/hiking paths nearby leading up the mountain behind us or inside the horticultural expo neighboring us. I've been told the locals have a "free" entrance to the expo, which involves several openings cut into the expo's fence. Sounds legit, right? However, as tempting as this avenue is to my thrifty nature, there are plenty of genuinely free paths for me to venture down with much less risk. It's one thing for the locals to take this discounted shortcut, they could more easily blend in with other paying expo-goers.

While I'm no expert, I think the horticultural staff would notice the sudden appearance of a giant white girl perusing
the park. While waiting for the bus, people driving cars often slow down to stare at me, so I know I'm not someone who can sneak into a park without drawing much attention...

Fortunately, over this year I've had the opportunity to walk many of the public paths and trails with my students before the weather got cold.
As spring has officially sprung, I'm hoping to venture out on these paths again soon to more fully enjoy the flowers blooming. Rest assured, I'll try to have an outdoor adventure soon, and I'll be sure to return here shortly after said adventure to share my experience.

In addition to my renewed commitment for regular blogging, such adventures and more awkward encounters with the locals of Qingdao are a little something for both of us to look forward to in the near future.

Surprise Adoption

Summer is officially over! (Unless you work at a Chinese University, but it's not like I'm bitter...) School has begun, and now my weekly excursions to adventurous places, like the grocery store, are mostly regulated to the weekends. Who has energy after standing on your feet all day educating a bunch of youths? While the grocery store may not seem like that big of a trip, you never know what will happen when you walk out the door of your apartment into the swarming mass that is China.

Last Saturday, I was returning from a visit with a friend. Our late lunch at the mall turned into lunch + shopping + walking around...so we officially parted ways around 7pm. Because of how far this mall was from my abode, I was able to take the subway (a work in progress) halfway home and then planned on calling a car. Once I emerged from the subway tunnel, I quickly booked a private car using an app (Didi...China's response to Uber) and waited for my driver.

After about 10 minutes of being stuck in traffic, my driver turned up. This guy began my trip by telling me, quite enthusiastically, that he had never had a foreigner in his car before. I was the first... This opener led to a series of topics ranging from whether his commemorative Obama watch, which he paid quite a bit for, was real (in his eyes, my American status made me an expert on the genuineness of presidential memorabilia) followed by his ardent declarations of love for the IPhone 8 (which he kept asking me if he could buy).

He spoke nearly no English and my Chinese is fairly poor, so our skills were limiting our topics of conversation. The longer we talked, the more we both began to rely heavily on our phones to translate questions and answers. Using my phone was not a problem for me, being a passenger, but my new taxi friend was driving...in the middle of the road for the majority of our journey. He even pulled the car over twice so he could type with two hands.

When we arrived at my apartment, he gave me his wechat info (the social media app of China that does ALL THE THINGS) and told me that if I ever needed a ride I could call him. Kind of weird? Nice? Fortunate? Well, the strangeness doesn't stop there.

The next day, my new friend messaged me all day. Literally. All. Day. The day started with him adding me to a group chat with 17 of his friends, who then proceeded to invite me to eat grapes with them. They seemed nice, but I couldn't join their grape-fest. I had church and was busy for most of the day.

Throughout the day, he continued to message me. How long had I been in China? Did I buy my clothes here? How much money do I spend on rent? Could I teach a 1-year old English?

After asking how old I was, he then told me that in my culture I should have been married by now. He is only 30, but he is married with a wife and a baby. He then sent me his wedding pictures and told me that he was like my older brother, my "gege" 哥哥 (said like "guh guh"). Weird? A bit. When I asked him what I should call him later that day, he told me I could just call him "older brother". In Asia, titles like this are fairly common. It's not like walking up to your brother in America and calling them "older/younger brother" constantly instead of his name. But, it was a surprise to me that suddenly I had a sibling my parents never warned me about.

Later, he called me 3 times to ask me questions. Each time he would try to talk slowly, ask his question, and then end the question with "yes or no?". Every time I had to remind him to type out the message, I mean, only if he wanted me to really understand what he was saying.

Before bed, he tried to video call me twice. I sent him a message that I was getting ready to go to bed, but he just replied that his wife wanted to meet me. So, he called me again and introduced me to not only his wife but also his son, mom, and dad. And of course...the communication was kind of a mess.
He and his wife then invited me to do many things with them. Shopping for clothes, eating food, celebrating Mid-Autumn Festival...all of these things and more. They wanted to show their "little sister" all the Chinese things.

Side note: I doubt I would tolerate this level of...eagerness from a person I just met in America, but he and his wife seem genuinely nice and very excited to have a foreign friend. At this point it kind of feels like forced adoption, but I'm just going to go with it (until I feel unsafe, super weirded-out, or harassed...but, I'm hoping these things don't come to pass).

With this new Chinese family of mine, I'm expecting 3 things: opportunities to share the gospel, time to practice my (poor) Chinese, and the discovery of all the cheap places to shop (you know, where the locals get stuff done). These are kind of like my ambitions...these are my friendship goals!

Today, Thursday evening, he has arranged to pick me up so we can have dinner with his friend who is an English professor. Will it be awkward? Probably. Will this be a good story? You betcha. But, you can count on whatever happens tonight to be typed up semi-coherently in the next few days and shared with you all. Hope you enjoy my awkward encounter, and I can assure you there will be many more to come.

April Fools

Normally, I don’t really pay much attention to minor holidays (aka, any holiday where there’s no Jesus, food, or presents). However, this year, my 10^th grade students made the mistake of warning me of possible future shenanigans a day prior. One student even told me not to trust them the next day because it was April 1^st. I replied confidently that I never trusted them anyway, so it’ll be just a regular day for me. Oh how I was wrong.

A quick scheming session that evening with my co-teacher, Alice, resulted in an early-morning black-ops-style prank session. Nothing too extreme. I merely redecorated.

 

I moved every desk into the hallway (11 heavy, extremely disorganized wooden desks), taped a handful of Mr. Bean pictures and meme faces on their belongings, and then, just for good measure, a quick layer of saran wrap on top of each desk. 

After about 30 minutes of diligence, I was finished. (Ps. I live on campus, right beside the high school building.) 

Once done, I just walked back home to get ready for work. 

When I arrived at work later that morning, all my students were sitting in their desks. And all of their desks were still in the hallway. 

They left their desks in the hallway until the end of the school day. Instead of moving them back into the classroom earlier, they staggered beanbags and random chairs from the hallway around their barren classroom to lounge in throughout the day. I’m sure not every teacher was thrilled about it, but I have yet to hear any complaints…so a small victory.

2 out of 3 classes I taught tried to prank me in some way or another. 11^th grade staged an elaborate scene for me. Upon entering the nearly-empty classroom, 1 lone student with Joker-esque makeup on his face told a creepy story about killing everyone in the class while movie-soundtrack music blared. 

Following a trail of “blood,” I walked from the teacher’s desk to the open window where I saw the other 15 students lying on the grass “lifeless.” Some had even taken the care to remove a shoe or angle their limbs in a particularly convincing way. After a few moments the "awakened" to laugh and yell “Happy April 1^st.” Then, they returned inside for my class with them (after many other students and teachers who also attended this show attempted to douse them with water).

The other class that had yet to enact their revenge was my beloved grade 10 students. In addition to leaving their desks in the hallway, I had witnessed attempted obstacle building (tape stretched across the halls in an attempt to startle unsuspecting teachers and students) and much hushed Chinese whisperings…I knew they would try to pull something in my class. 

After lunch, my time had come. I warily walked from my office towards the 10^th grade classroom. Along the way I dodged tape-trip wires and encountered several students hiding behind doors, waiting to surprise me.

The door was cracked slightly, so being the cautious adventurer I am, I used my foot to nudge it open before entering. Immediately, 2 chalkboard erasers tumbled to the ground amid small puffs of chalk dust. Crisis averted. 

However, as soon as I entered, I noticed my severely unflattering yearbook photo from the school's website largely displayed on the smart board while pop-rap music blared. This was the worst. This method of revenge was quite effective. They laughed at me for a few minutes while I unsuccessfully (and frantically) attempted to close out the picture. Most of the students were in the classroom to witness this. One, however, was M.I.A…supposedly in the bathroom.

This was not the end of their prank saga. I had 2 more surprises left…Ok, maybe not so much as surprises, but attempts. That’s more accurate. 

After a few minutes in the class, one of the students requested that I open the window to let in some air. Of course, I’m still on high-alert, and I considered this quandary of the suspicious kind. The windows are rarely…rarely open during my class, and they’ve never asked me to open them before.

I told the class that I didn’t trust them, and asked one of them to open the window. Little to my surprise he immediately refused, despite sitting closest to the window in question. Another student confidently declared that she would open the window instead. She opened 2 windows (side-by-side) and drew both curtains in front of them. This was clever on her part, however, it did little to cover the person-sized shadow that flickered in front of the curtains when she turned away.

That student that was “in the bathroom”...yeah, he was waiting to scare me outside the window on the 4^th floor balcony. Balcony is actually a generous term. This is more like a large flower shelf with a railing. (Don’t even get me started on the cultural attitude towards safety…but, to be fair, I don’t think the architects intending this shelf for people-use.)

Their last "gift" to me came in the form of a surprise ingredient added to my drinking water. On my desk is a metal mug with a lid. The custom in China, and many parts of Asia, is to drink hot water (which if you’ve never attempted this, don’t knock it ‘til you try it). When I was walking to the 10^th grade classroom after lunch, one student had slipped into the office (with permission of course) to add some wasabi to my water.

Luckily I was warned beforehand (verbally and visually…there were chunks floating about and the smell was quite overwhelming). However, as Alice advised, the students should think they were successful. I muttered a half-hearted yell followed by a child-like scream from Alice. Within minutes most of my class rushed to the office door to laugh at me, revel in their victory, and to inform me that my “cry” sounded like a baby.

After they left, Alice then generously informed me that they would be taking a test outside…and their water bottles would be left inside…on their desks…in the hallway. Let’s just say that I was quite eager for them to return from their test and hoped that their academic rigor had made them a bit parched. 5 of them were about to receive a bit of a shock.

One of the Mr. Bean memes ended
up on the back of the Chinese math
teacher...a serious  woman who
does not take kindly to jokes. 

Ironically, out of the 5 students whose water I so lovingly “spiked,” the student who brought the wasabi paste to school had not received any in her water bottle. Not for benevolence on my part, but her water bottle was empty. However, I was pleasantly surprised that when she returned from the great outdoors she was quite thirsty. Because her bottle was empty, she borrowed a fellow classmate’s water bottle. A water bottle that just so happened to have an extra kick.

She did not see that coming. After her unhappy drinking experience, the other students quickly checked their own bottles, and many of them rinsed out their water in favor of non-wasabi beverages.

Overall, it was a rewarding day. Not only did 10^th grade have the most fun I’ve ever seen them experience at school, but one of my fellow high school teachers made a comment that really blessed me. After everyone else had gone home, I was packing up my bags when my friend told me that she and some of the other Chinese teachers were jealous that I was the only teacher the students played pranks on. When I defended that I had technically started this prank battle, she opposed this thought. Instead, she argued that it was my relationship with the students that gave them the freedom and confidence to prank a teacher. 

My students were comfortable with me and weren't afraid that I would be mad at them for their actions. As much fun as I had playing with the 10th and 11th graders on April Fools Day, I think the highlight of this day was my friend's comment. I love my students, and seeing our relationship grow and display itself in a silly day of tricks and pranks is just another reminder of why I'm in China.