Squirrel! and other stories

As usual when I put a lot of effort into a post (see below), I find myself the next day wondering how on earth I will follow it, short of welding myself to my computer for another couple of hours and pounding out another Tolstoy-length treatise on my life here.

And, also as usual when I reach this point, my answer is the same: I can't. I'm all treatise-d out for the moment. But what do have, and happen to have in spades today, is fun little stories of how wonderful life is here. So let's do that, instead!

Squirrel!
 
This morning found me all but sprinting down the 3rd floor hallway at Hanmin in my typical attempt to avoid being late. (For the record, so far, so good.) Now, my first class of the day on Mondays is actually my students' second or third. (Because, clearly, elementary schoolers were meant to be in school from 8am til 4pm, then hit the cram schools for hours afterward. But I digress.) And, since Hanmin, like most (maybe all?) schools in Taiwan, is built up rather than out, with wide covered breezeways serving as most kids' between-class play area, my path from the elevator to my office involved ducking and weaving between 2nd graders jumping rope, then taking a blind corner in the hope that this would be the one time that the 5th grade boys playing tag would think to look in front of them, rather than behind, as they took rounded the edge at a full gallop.

But while I was disappointed in that last hope--though thankfully he turned just in time to see me and avoid the collision--that little mishap was almost instantly forgotten in the discovery of something far more interesting and strange: a squirrel.

That's right, there, scurrying its way along the stone floor beside the banister, was a scawny black squirrel--that looked absolutely scared out of its mind. Of course, so would you if you had a horde of hyperactive giants closing in around you from all sides, trying to cut off your every escape route.

If squirrels think, I imagine this particular one's thought process went something like this:

"Oh, look, a giant white thing to climb. I like to climb. Let's climb the giant white thing and see if I can find food." (it climbs up the school building and stops at the third floor) "This looks nice. But it smells weird--lots of different sm--some food, some dirt, some anim- AHHHHHHH!!!!! They're coming! They're coming! THEY'RE COMING AFTER MEEEEE!!!!! Must get away, must get a--AH! WHERE DID THIS GIANT FOOT COME FROM?! I'll go--OH NO ANOTHER ONE! SAVE MEEEE!!!!"

All things considered, our little squirrel friend was making pretty good time down the hallway, flocked by a dozen or so kids doing their best to corral him  so they could play. Fortunately (for the squirrel, anyway), I don't think they succeeded.

Although, later in the day, I did come across a stuffed squirrel, lying on its back in the middle of the hallway as if begging for mercy from a horde of giants....nah, must have been a coincidence.

Mr. 7 and Mr. 8

I think I've mentioned it before, but at Hanmin, we don't have an English classroom; rather, myself and Maggie or Alison (depending on the day's schedule) are the roving English duo, taking our cue from the bell just like our students and setting forth to whichever classroom is expecting us next. Or not expecting us next, as the case may be, if we've lost track of what period it is, but they're usually pretty quick at setting us straight with a big laugh and a chorus of "hellos."

Anyway. On the way to class today with Maggie, we were accompanied, as is usual here in Taiwan, by our classroom helpers--ie, those kids who'd decided to voluntarily come down and help us carry our stuff. (Gotta love Taiwan!) Also behind us as we walked were Ingrid and Fiona, another English co-teaching pair who commute to their classrooms, along with their helpers. A few other kids scurried about, too, rushing towards their appropriate home rooms.

I mention all this to say that I don't really know who's responsible for what happened next.

Out of the corner of my ear, I heard what I thought was "七月," (qi yue), which translates as 7th month, or July. July? I thought, Why is he talking about July?

Partly out of curiosity and partly because I wanted to check my Chinese listening comprehension skills, I asked Maggie about what I'd heard. Turns out that my Chinese listening comprehension skills suck (or, half suck, anyway--I had the 七 part right), and the student had actually said "qi ye"--I have no idea how it's actually written--which was a reference to a Chinese fable.

In the fable, apparently, there are two men, Mister Seven and Mister Eight, who lead people to Hell. Mister Seven is very tall, and Mister Eight is very short.

Hm. Have I mentioned that Maggie is probably about 4'11", and I'm a whopping (in Taiwan) 5'6"? No? Oh, well then I should probably just spell it out that they were talking about us. As the two who lead people down to Hell. Good to know they have such a good impression of English class...

Well, that's it for the night. It's no lengthy tome, but some days just don't need that sort of post. Some days just need a little shot of the small glories of life--a reminder that terrified squirrels and backhanded Chinese insults can, many times, make your day.