The End

This is hard to write. Today was my last day in my schools. I am no longer an English teacher. Every sentence I put on here sounds stilted, unreal, and that's actually quite fitting: it doesn't feel real at all.

Today was one of the most chill days I've ever had at my schools. I arrived at Qingshan at regular time, 8:30, and discovered that, a) graduation had been moved from that night to that morning at 9:30, and, b) all the 5th graders had been instructed to sit in the courtyard for the next hour until the ceremony began. So, there went English class.

We hung around for an hour, then went to the ceremony, which included a very solemn march of the 6th graders around the courtyard, several speeches and awards, and, of course, Zoe's English speech. Fortunately for me, the Director forgot to ask me to introduce her, so I managed to make it through this graduation without taking the stage, apart from a generalized "thank you" to teachers. It was really a very nice ceremony, with lovely little moments like the 5th graders singing a farewell to the 6th graders, and the 6th graders singing a welcome to the 5th graders. Very sweet.

Afterwards, Patty and I went back up to our classroom to discover that our classes would continue to be cancelled, so that the kids could clean up the courtyard. In the end, we had our last class of the day for about 20 minutes, and that was it.

But of course, that couldn't be it! Patty was nice enough to postpone her lunch and take me around to the 5th grade homerooms, so I could get a picture with all of my students one last time, and give them each a lollipop. These visits also, of course, included an extraordinary amount of signing--not just of papers this time, but of pencil cases, bags, and desk mats. One boy gave me a massive bunch of balloons from the graduation ceremony; one girl, Kelly, gave me a note which read "Don't go back to America stay at 5th grade forever! Please! Please!!"

As I drove away, a small contingent of kiddos waved me off from the third story. But still, even now, it's impossible to believe the truth: that was the end.

My eyes threaten to close on their own accord and never open again (to be honest, I've typed the last several sentences with them closed anyway), but I would be remiss if I didn't mention our epic THIRD PLACE FINISH in dragon boat racing tonight! I should really just leave it at that: we got third pace in our heat. I really shouldn't go on to explain that there were a total of three boats in our heat, and we lost to the next slowest by a full 55 seconds. But that also happened.

Oh well, we did at least finish the race, and make it back without holding up the race schedule, as has happened in the past. And afterwards we all ate watermelons and took pictures while Esther, Lydia, Paul and Alex frolicked in the rain; after that, Fonda, Chialing, Rachel an I, along with Evelyn and some of her friends, went to Chialing's cousin's place for some delicious papaya milk. So that was good.

Denial

I don't want to talk about it. Scratch that, I don't want to think about it. Actually, I don't want it to have happened, and by somehow leaving it out of my mental processes, I can pretend that's so: today was not my last day of teaching at Hanmin. Today was not my farewell to all the absolutely wonderful 5th graders I've had the privilege of meeting there. And it was also not my last day working with Maggie.

Except it was.

They're unfathomable, these "lasts." They represent the ripping out of my life of things that have become wholly connected to who I am, and who I have been for the past 10--almost 11!--months. Teacher Bekah, Bekah 老師--it was a title that fit awkwardly at first, like a new shoe. Now, though, it's been worn into a second skin, and I'm reluctant to take it off, especially since doing so means saying goodbye to the nearly 1,000 students, teachers, and administrators I've been able to work with here.

I can't think too much about it. I can't. Especially since each day brings a new goodbye, a fresh "last" to add to the ever-growing list. Last day of 6th grade at Hanmin, last day of 6th grade at Qingshan, Hanmin graduation, last day of 5th grade at Hanmin, Teacher Appreciation Banquet...It's a blessing and a curse, having my endings stretched over a week and a half. I'm reminded of the lobsters who, being put in water before it's boiled, don't even realize the water is heating up until it's over.

OK, so that's a bit morbid, but the idea holds: I feel like I'm being eased into The End so gradually that I don't--can't--mourn properly for each new step. Sure, I keep writing emo-kid-worthy blog posts about it--(sorry about that)--but it's hard to let myself realize, really, that it's ending. In class, I look around and tell myself, this is the last time you'll be here, but I can't get a real sense of it. I read the mounds of cards piling up on my desk--all very sweet, all reminding me just how much I love my kids--and I think oh, well, you might still get to see them on Tuesday and Wednesday... And yes, I might: I'll be physically present at Hanmin tomorrow and the day after for various events. But even then, there are no guarantees! And after that--nothing.

I'd better end there--no sense taking that course any further down its inevitably Eeyore-ish way. I suppose there'll be plenty of time to deal with the gloom later on--and I doubt my as yet un-summoned tears will stay away once I'm actually on the plane headed home. After all, I'll have nearly 1,000 reasons to be sad.

In the mean time, here's a more pragmatic, pictoral look at my day: a day, as I've said, of goodbyes, but also of candy and cards and smiling faces.

Soooo many caaaaaards!

Not pictured: the Teacher Appreciation Banquet tonight. It was great--scrumptious food, saw several of my students (their parents were on the PTA and/or were teachers) and fun talking with Maggie and Alison--but my camera was dead. So...that happened.

Love love love

As I pulled into the parking garage tonight and peeled my wet poncho off my back, I realized something: I had been "at school" for 12 hours. A long day, by most standards; especially coming as it did at the end of a busy week, I should have been exhausted and cranky. I smiled. Shortest 12 hours of my life.

The day began as has become the norm lately. As I get ready for the day, I look out my window: no rain. Right before heading out, I look out the window: no rain. I walk out my door, get in the elevator, and ride it the short 30 seconds or so to the bottom. The elevator doors open, and I walk out--to a perfectly timed downpour. Taiwanese weather takes Murphy's Law to new heights.

When I arrived, dripping, at Qingshan, I arrived to a day of little joys and good conversation--and a never-ending stream of Justin Bieber and Carly Rae Jepsen which made me realize, conclusively, that it is impossible to ever take yourself seriously again after leading a group of students in a call-and-repeat of "Hey, I just met you/ And this is crazy/ But here's my number/ So call me, maybe?" over and over again. In other news, the full lyrics to that song will ever again leave my consciousness.

Between classes, Patty arranged it so I could meet up with the 6th graders I didn't get to see yesterday, handing out cards and candy once in their home room--the first time since I first got here that I'd been to their homeroom, I realized, or met their teacher--and once in a tangle of 5th graders trying to come in for class, after the initial 6th grade showing was limited to just five boys. (They got their own special photo op, though!)

And don't they look thrilled about it.

Hey look, a homeroom!

Then, after a lunchtime radio session with Patty, I headed over to Hanmin to meet Alison for the 6th grade graduation that was going on there that afternoon.

The graduation...was...stupendous. It went on for over two hours; to spare you from reading and myself from writing the gritty details, here are the highlights:

• SO MANY AWARDS. Alison told me she'd heard they had 24 awards for each of the 11 classes; I lost track well before that, but they had, in addition to the top achiever awards by class (which I think went down to fifth place?), PTA choice awards, awards for special needs students, and awards for every class in every class subject--these awards featured a stage covered in an 11-by-6 grid of students, in between each two of which stood an award presenter, whose job it was to bow to them, hand them their award, bow again, step into the row for pictures, go back to their spot, and bow, after which the next row would step forward and the process would repeat. How do I know all this? Well, because I was called up to be a presenter for, not just one of these, but two; neither award set was for English, and neither Alison nor I knew what it was for. BUT, I did get to hand awards to my students! So, woo?

First prize: the smallest category of awards.

• FANTASTIC DANCING. To give the audience a much-needed break from all the awards, there were several intermission-type breaks which featured the many talents of Hanmin's students in other grades, predominantly the 5th graders. Which MEANS I got to watch my amazing 5th grade dance class in action once again, and this time photography was allowed! Pretty great, if you ask me.



Video forthcoming, whenever Youtube decides to stop hating me. But seriously, how many 5th graders do YOU know that can pull of Latin ballroom dancing?


 

• SUPERSTAR STATUS. Walking into the auditorium where the graduation was held, you'd think the kids had never seen me before (but somehow still knew my name). I posed for many, many a picture, and received many, many darling cards and gifts, including a fantastic neck pillow which will come in handy soon. I felt very loved, as all my wonderful students pressed around me telling me they would miss me. I'll miss them, too, more than they know.

After the graduation, Alison and I braved the renewed deluge in crossing the street back to Hanmin and our scooters, and then took off for a local restaurant for a graduation banquet with class 6-1, who'd invited us to join them first, much to the chagrin of the other classes who missed the ball. But it mattered little--within 20 minutes of us getting there, the entire restaurant was packed with Hanmin 6th graders there for their graduation banquets. It was a buffet, and it an absolute mad-house--in the absolute best way possible.

I spent the next few hours eating (DELICIOUS steak), chatting with Alison, posing for more pictures, and getting final wonderful moments with some of my favorite students, who kept pulling me aside just to say hi, or coming to my table for a picture, or coming en masse to toast me--my favorite moment of the night. There had been tears at the graduation ceremony, but here, it was all smiles and hugs and laughter: the perfect way to remember my great year with these kids.

I dare you not to smile.

So does Jay.

I hardly noticed time passing. By the time Alison and I left, the restaurant was all but cleared out, but I was still reluctant: leave my 6th graders for the last time? The thought was, and is, heart-wrenching. It can't possibly be that time yet.

The time has gone by so quickly. As the cascade of goodbye cards sitting on my desk attest, it doesn't seem possible that it's already been almost a year since I got here. But it has, and that means saying goodbye to all of my lovely students. And with so much love, and so many goodbyes to be made, 12 hours a day is far too short a time to spend at school.

Sixth Grade Surprises

I parked my scooter under the dripping tin cover, changed out of my flip flops and into the more teaching-appropriate flats I'd brought, and scurried across the open parking lot to the next bit of cover beneath the eaves of the faculty lunch room. I wasn't wearing my watch--no need for it to get wet--but I knew I probably had just a few minutes before the bell rang. When I arrived at the third floor English classroom at last, I was a little perplexed to hear noises coming from inside--it was nap time, after all!

I opened the door--and instantly the indeterminate voices solidified into a girl's squeal: "Noooo!!!!" One of my fifth graders came running across the classroom, gesticulating wildly, speaking quickly in Chinese with the occasional burst of English, and generally making me to realize I should not be there. Not yet, anyway. I clapped my hand over my eyes and stayed put, like she'd told me to.

 She was distraught, then, when she finally gave me leave to walk to my desk--only to discover Patty standing there with my surprise clearly visible in her hands, and which she proceeded to explain to me: the girls were filling a jar with 3,000 tiny stars for me, so I could have 3 wishes (one per thousand). I'm not sure if it's meant to be a belated birthday gift or early going-away present, but either way, it was absolutely supposed to be a secret, and it no longer is. Whoops.

The girls were fifth graders, but that experience was a fittingly strange beginning to my last day as a 6th grade teacher. Why, you ask? Precisely because they were fifth graders. See, on my last day as a sixth grade teacher, I saw remarkably few sixth graders--just one class of them, actually, and that the infamous class whose students I've mentioned on here before. After the first class, all the sixth graders were called away to a jump rope competition that Patty hadn't known about, so I actually spent most of the day sitting and talking with Patty, and helping grade worksheets.

The class I did have was pretty great, though. Handed out my cards and candy; Patty did the same, together the residual papers that always seem to accumulate over the course of the year--and then we taught them "Call Me Maybe" from this Youtube video:

So yeah, maybe it's a good thing we only taught the one class--that song is impossibly catchy, and will be stuck in my head plenty with just the one viewing...

And, of course, we did the photo-op thing. Except for the part where the boys were their typical selves when trying to get a picture with the girls...

Beginning to get frustrated...

Can you find the boys who are hiding?

Then I drove home in the rain, and that was that! No more sixth graders...except for the part where I'm still going to their graduations. So it's not really goodbye--not yet.

Overbooked, Underbooked

I had a feeling this might happen. I've been working on the side as a thesis editor for Master's students for months now, and now, suddenly, everything is coming due, literally. At the exact same time as my last week with my 6th graders, i.e. the time at which I need to have finished my end-of-the-year gifts, and the time at which my evenings are filling up with banquets and graduations. Here's hoping I pull it all together in time.

When it rains it pours, eh? And I can't even resist the cliche, for all the accuracy it's had lately: it has been POURING. We were supposed to have a dragon boat practice today. Oh yeah, have I mentioned that yet? We're participating in a dragon boat race next week. And we haven't practiced yet. Today, it was raining off and on all day, and by the time practice came around, it had let up--but still, no one showed up. It was me, Rachel, and Fonda--since Fonda graciously volunteered to drive us--and Allen (who's doing his military service at Sanmin). Eventually, Vincent, the other Allen, and a friend of Vincent's showed up--but, given that it takes 20 people to crew a dragon boat, our practice still consisted of Rachel and Vincent's friend practicing with umbrellas in the air while taking shelter from the rain under the leaky cover of a row of trees.

We did at least get to watch others rowing, though! And we saw the dragon boats themselves. They're pretty cool. They look a bit like this:

...but not quite, since, you know, it was rainy today and we were on the Love River, not wherever that picture was taken. The empty part is right, though.

Anyway, here's hoping it all pulls together in time: theses, cards, dragon boats and all. Allons-y!

Goodbyes, Tea, Rain, and a Challenge!

Well, from here on out it's pretty much all goodbyes. Just reading over my last week of postings is depressing, and from here on out it's a downward slope. So, to counterbalance what could otherwise be a tidal wave of sadness, I've decided to split today's post (and possibly future posts, pending time and motivation) into two sections: the deep, dark and sad, and the light, bubbly and happy. And yes, they will be in that order, because who wants to end on a frown?

Today was my last day with my 6th graders at Hanmin. Ever. And it wasn't even supposed to be! See, the 6th graders graduate a week before everyone else finishes school, so they took their finals last week, and have graduation this Friday. Which, I thought, would work fine: I'd have one final class period with all of them; get a chance to say goodbye, take pictures, and hand out the little end-of-the-year gifts I had for them. And, today, that's precisely what I did. But tomorrow, when I'm supposed to have my other three sixth grade classes for the last time, they have graduation practice. I've always thought graduation practice was useless, but I've never before resented it quite so much as I do now.

So today was my last day. The kids were pretty checked out about it, as a result of the fact that this week seems to be the officially sanctioed bring-your-DS-or-iPad-to-class and watch-movies-all-day week, and because they knew I'd be at their graduation, but they did appreciate the lollipops and cards I made for each of them--and then mobbed me with their yearbooks to sign. And, of course, we took pictures.

The girls of 6-07 took a picture with me...

...while the boys of 6-07 did this.

Lollipops that had lost their wrappers...pretty, though!

Class 6-08 was more cooperative :)

So was Class 6-02.

In between classes, Alison, Maggie and I went down to the general assembly room we've been using all year for Morning English, and which had, yesterday, been emptied of most of its rows of tables, which had been replaced with white plastic deck furniture labeled and set around the room for teachers to sit at for the 6th Annual  Teacher Appreciation Tea Ceremony.

When I first heard we were having a Teacher Appreciation Tea, I pictured an English-style tea such as those that have made their way to America for special occasions and such among those who want to feel posh. Why this was my first logical conclusion  then is a complete mystery to my now. We are in Taiwan, after all!

When it was our shift (yes, everyone was given a shift), we entered the room with about 20 other teachers, and sat in front of a group of probably 70 or so students, plus the ones massing around the doors, whose purpose I didn't yet know. For tea, each teacher in  had an assigned seat and, after a short speech and with the onset of a musical cue, the masses of our students from around the doors flooded forward, one for each teacher, bearing a cup and saucer for each individual teacher. When they got to us, on another cue, they went down on one knee and waited while we drank our tea. So sweet, and so unexpected! And, as a Westerner, very, very foreign to have a student kneeling and waiting on me.

Maggie getting her tea

After the tea--which Alison sadly missed, since her student was late--they put on a slide show of all the kids from this year, together with a sad, anthem-y song which they invited everyone to sing along to. Very poignant--and then the lady who was announcing began commenting on each slide. My favorite moment was when she called out "BEKAH!"...and then the slide didn't have me on it. The next one did, though, and she was ready with her announcement once again!

I got a (really terrible) video of part of the slide show; maybe it will give more of a sense of setting:

It felt very pomp-and-circumstance-ish, though the sensation was somewhat lost when they released us late to our next class, where, after we escaped the clutches of the textbook salesmen, we just handed out cards and watched movies again.

The last class of the day was when the really interesting stuff began, though. In the middle of handing out cards, an announcement came over the intercom--and the whole room broke out in cheers. I turned to Alison. "School cancelled?" "Yes."

It's been raining torrentially all over Taiwan for days--my commute the last few days has been perpetually horrid, and it's flooding elsewhere--and as of this afternoon, the Kaohsiung government finally decided they had had enough, and shut down schools, so everyone could go home...right as the worst of the rain started again, of course.

Then, while walking back (early) from that last class, one of my sixth graders from last semester stepped out of her classroom to get my signature on her yearbook. The next thing I knew, I had every single kid from two classrooms surrounding me and wanting my signature all at once. This when I felt certain that every second I stayed at school would mean a worse drive home--they had closed the schools for a reason, after all, surely!

But, of course, I signed them. How could I not? And then I drove home, during which drive I discovered that the closure was not limited to Hanmin, as I had thougth before, but was, rather, a city-wide proclamation, which meant that the roads were absolutely packed with parents who had been called to come pick up their kids hours early. In the parking garage at home, I ran into one of my neighbors on her way out, and when I cautioned her about the rain, she just smiled and said she had to go pick up her kids. Everyone did, after all!

In light of buqiban culture, I cannot fully imagine the havoc wreaked on everyone's lives today. I didn't think much of it until I went walking to find lunch, and discovered that the vast majority of restaurants around were abnormally closed. Even after they picked up their kids, people are really just hunkering down for this one--Chialing closed up shop early, since, as she told Rachel, there was no one in the streets. And who can blame them?

And now, the lighter note!

Today, as I found myself sucked once again into the Youtube Wormhole, I began wondering what conclusions someone would draw about me if the only information they had available to them, for some strange reason, was my Youtube history and subscriptions. And no, they aren't allowed to look at the videos I've actually uploaded myself, that would be a MUCH more complete and, therefore, less fun view. So here's what they would learn about me, and what they would subsequently assume to be my entire personality:

1. I like comedy sketches
2. I like British things
3. Specifically, I like British accents
4. I like Doctor Who (which is both British and contains British accents)
5. I like the actors of Doctor Who (who are also British and use British accents)
6. I like watching male vloggers
7. Specifically, I like watching male vloggers WITH British accents
8. Most specifically of all, I like watching male vloggers with British accents TALK about Doctor Who (charlieissocoollike and nerimon)

Annnnnd that's pretty much all my Youtube history and subscriptions could tell you: that I like all things funny, British, male, and related to Doctor Who, and preferably several of those things in some combination with each other. But please, please don't think that's my entire personality. It's not. It just happens to be what I usually watch on Youtube. 

And now I'm curious. Based solely on your Youtube history and subscriptions, what would someone assume YOU to be like? Leave a comment if you're brave enough to reply!

Cha cha slide

What did we teach today? Oh, that would be the cha cha slide.

Yes, really. And yes, that's all. Our lesson (after the handing-back and grading of finals), consisted of these videos:

...and a few more, one of which involved a stick figure. Also, me teaching them what to do for "clap," "to the left," "to the right," "stomp," "hop," "reverse," "criss-cross," "hands on your knees," and, of course, "cha cha." I didn't bother explaining "Charlie Brown," because who knows what that's all about, anyway?

Also apparently hilarious--it left the last class of the day in stitches, anyway--was "cha cha now ya'll." Because, when spoken quickly, it apparently sounds like "cha cha 奶油"--which would , admittedly, be a pretty funny song lyric.

In the process of the day, I also managed to capture this wonderful scene: our Internet failed while we were watching the Crazy Frog video above, and these boys decided dancing with the video meant stopping when, and how, it did. Not the best quality, but shows a bit of the fun. :)

Zoe

I really hate not being able to have separate classes for students at different levels. I've been reminded of this several times lately, and twice in the last two weeks, these reminders have revolved around one student: Zoe.

Apparently, the only picture I have of her is from Halloween...so, no, this is NOT her normal daily attire.

Zoe is a 6th grader at Qingshan. And I'll be honest: other than knowing her by face and name, and knowing that she was her class's leader (as evidenced by her constantly yelling at them when they misbehaved), that's about all I knew about Zoe. Was she nice? I didn't know. Was she good at English? I didn't know.

Then, a few weeks ago, I found out. Patty asked me to help write the 6th grade English graduation speech (apparently they do speeches in English, Chinese and Taiwanese at Qingshan, which is kinda cool). And, when I asked if I could get some thoughts from the students on graduation to work with, she said sure--she'd just ask the person who'd be giving the speech, Zoe.

So, apparently Zoe is GREAT at English. Last week, I helped her through the more difficult words of the speech I'd written, but even without my help she did a fantastic job of reading it. And I never knew. Because, you see, Zoe just so happens to be in a class that is 2/3 boys--and not just any boys. No, these are the boys who are legendary at Qingshan; their entire class is known as troublemakers who are all but impossible to control. In any given lesson, just getting these kids to keep it down to a dull roar so we can maybe--maybe--make it most of the way through the lesson is the sole focus of the day.

And there, plopped down with another 9 unfortunate girls, is Zoe.

In class today, the 6th graders at Qingshan performed their English finals, self-produced skits based on various dialogs from the book. The first performance came from some of the infamous boys, who laughed their way through butchering their lines; I gave them a 70 only because I knew anything lower would never make it out alive from the Taiwanese grade inflation machine. A few minutes later, Zoe's group (all girls) went, and earned the single highest score I gave anyone all day, a 99.

I'll be honest, I don't know how classes are determined in America, or whether or not kids at different skill levels are actually split into them or not. I know that happens at the high school level, and I remember hearing people talk about T.A.G. testing or something, but I don't know the ins and outs of how it works. Maybe it's not too different; maybe it is.

But I just have to say, to all education systems, letting kids like Zoe disappear into a classroom full of rowdy, disinterested kids is just not right! YES, ideally there would be no rowdy, disinterested kids, and YES, it should be and is every teacher's job to make sure no one disappears in a classroom setting (and it should be noted that Patty clearly saw her: she did pick her out of all the 6th graders to give the speech, after all!).

But if you have a class in which some of the kids don't know their ABCs, while other kids can hold advanced conversations with the teacher, how will anyone learn? That last sentence describes a vast majority of my classes here. It's an impossible task for teachers and for students; in the end, you end up catering to the middle, leaving kids at the extremes either bored or confused. Sound promising to you? Me neither.

On the flip side, one of my favorite things I've done this year was remedial English classes, which included kids who often goof off in class but who, in remedial class, were fully invested in what we were learning. And, of course, the main reason the highest-level kids are good is because of their level-specific buqiban classes. Just saying.

I started this post to talk about Zoe, and somehow it has now led me down a path that looks as though I'm calling for educational reform.  I don't know how that happened, but there it is. I'm glad that, at least last--and at last--I have discovered how great Zoe is, despite her classmates' distractions!

300 Days

Today marks my 300th blog post. 300. Besides immediately calling to mind a certain big-budget film (THIS IS SPARTA!), 300 posts makes me realize just how close to a full year it is--just 65 days shy. And I won't even be here a full year; won't quite make that 65-day mark. Wow, the end is close.

It's fitting, then, that today Alison and I taught our 6th grade kids their graduation unit: words like "miss," and "graduation," and phrases like "Keep in touch!" and "This year was great!" and "Have a good summer!"

The classes themselves were less melancholy than that perhaps sounds--we're having them make posters for themselves and then having everyone sign each others' using the phrases we're teaching--but I can't think too hard about it, or I'll realize that we're on our last unit with the 6th graders. They graduate in three weeks, one of which will contain their final exam, rather than a class period. I only have them two more times. But I can't think about that.

To make matters even more melancholy, today was the last day that Ingrid and I were both at school: she's done with her program at the end of this week, and won't be there tomorrow because she's attending a concert. I will at least see her again Thursday--Teacher Penguin invited us to a BBQ--and I'm still hoping she'll change her mind and come to Australia with me, but all in all today was a day of choosing not to think about the many goodbyes to come.

...At least my students' posters were cheery.

...so yeah, those pictures' adorableness keeps me happy. As does the nail polish I put on today, which I just realized is SCENTED. So, my fingernails now smell like coconut deliciousness.

Goals for tomorrow:

1. Don't cry at the thought of goodbyes
2. Don't spend all day sniffing your fingernails

Hope you like rats!

This morning, I arrived at Hanmin to find some little treasures awaiting me in my desk. The first was a set of pictures the school photographer took of Alison and I for the yearbook which finally got printed; the second was even better. A big manila envelope containing dozens of postcards from Oregon.

I've mentioned before that Hanmin has a pen pal exchange going with the school my mom teaches at back home. What we've learned, however, is that, slow mail speeds aside, it takes a VERY long time to get dozens of individual students to write and turn in their letters. As a result of that, compounded with schedule irregularities and tests, it took us nearly 3 months this time to send the American kids the responses to their letters.

In the mean time, apparently, some of them got anxious (and/or were prompted by their teachers) and sent a bunch of post cards! So, though our latest responses should be in their hands soon (if they're not there already), we also have a good number of gorgeous pictures of Oregon addressed to about half of the Taiwanese pen pals. And, today, Ingrid and I amused ourselves by reading through them.

They were hilarious. My personal favorite was the one that focused on the student's new-purchased pet rats. To sign off, she wrote, "Hope you like rats!" Indeed--if her pen pal doesn't, she'll be awfully disappointed by her letter!

Ingrid's favorite also followed the animal theme: the student told his pen pal that his family had just bought some chickens--"not to eat, but as pets." He then proceeded to tell the chickens' names: Omelet, Scrambled, and Poached. But hey, at least it wasn't "Fried!"

Other joys were the homemade postcards. One was of a pink illustrated dragon (no, not one from pop culture, just a random drawing); another was an amazingly drawn picture of a deer leaping next to a stream, all surrounded with what looked like a gilt frame. Astounding creativity.

I spent several of my breaks today sorting the post cards out between the 5th and 6th grade students here. They'll be overjoyed to receive them, I know--so much so that maybe this time we'll manage a faster response time than 3 months. But how could we not, with such lovely messages as "Hope you like rats!"

Placeholder

Well, it's something. It should have been--and will be, later--a post containing a video of one of my sixth grade classes performing their dialogue while acting like a chicken/monkey/alien/dinosaur (different parts for different kids, not one big hybrid).

It should also have revealed to the world what I discovered today: that one of my 6th grade boys looks remarkably like a young, Asian version of Josh Radnor (aka Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother).

But alas, not tonight. I'll add it later, though, I promise--too good to pass up.

As promised! The boy in the middle (both videos): does he not remind you of Ted?

Mothers and Surprises

If I had written a real post yesterday, it would have been on mothers: we taught a cultural lesson on Mother's Day to the 5th and 6th graders at Qingshan, and I was amazed and saddened at some of the things I heard my students say. I found it particularly shocking because it's become amply clear to me that Mother's Day is a much bigger thing here than in America, and honor for your parents is an absolutely crucial component of the culture.

Still, it was sad to see how many of my kids had nothing good to say about their moms; our activity was a fill-in-the-blanks letter for their mom (or grandma or aunt or dad or...), and I know enough Chinese to know what they wanted to use to fill in the blanks was significantly less than flattering (one memorable boy's first attempt to finish "My favorite thing about you is..." was  你的大的屁股). Other answers were less inappropriate, and more heartbreaking. I'm sure a large part of it was because yesterday was the 6th graders, but it still served to remind me of how incredibly lucky I am to have my Mom. She's awesome.

Today was different, and confirmed my 6th-grade theory: with the 5th graders, while there were still a few complaints, what I heard more of was "do I have to choose just one thing to say about her? Can't I say my favorite thing about her is her smile and how fun she is?" That was lovely to hear. I also rather enjoyed seeing the drawings they did of their moms. Here is my favorite--and no, this does not mean he has a horrible home life; his mom is a teacher at Qingshan and is a wonderful person.

Yes, according to that picture, Zack's mom is Godzilla. Something tells me she'd be less than thrilled at the comparison...I like it, though! Added a smile to my day.

And there were plenty of smiles to be had today! Halfway through our fourth and final class of the day, Patty and the class of 5-3 surprised me with a birthday celebration! Patty had bought me a cake (one of the BEST cakes I have ever had in my life--vanilla with frosting layers of chocolate frosting and fruit) and some fabulously blingbling的 earrings, and all of my students, 5th and 6th graders together, had signed a MASSIVE card for me.

Just a few samplings of their glorious work :)

Beautiful, scrumptious cake!

西瓜甜不甜?

Gifts. <3! Pink bow and yellow barrette from Kitty and Linda; bracelet came without a card, pretty earrings from Patty!

Another hugely popular gift was boxes filled with 300 paper stars: I got two today, one in a silver box, and one in a pink pig music box. Kiki and Sherry also assured me that they were making me one, but hadn't finished yet. Apparently, it's a tradition akin to making 1,000 origami cranes in Japan; it brings good luck! Here's what my silver box looks like (once I've turned it on its side and artfully dumped the stars into the lid, that is):

Another lovely moment of the day was the several students--several bearing gifts or cards--who Patty prompted to the front to take a picture with me. One of them, Kevin, apparently said he was going to kiss me, and I got a little worried, but he didn't. Here's Kevin and I:

...and here are Judy, Angela, and a boy whose name I can't remember at the moment, but who was in the crew of people making stars for the pig music box. :)

So many lovely surprises today! This year, my birthday has brought such a wonderful store of love flowing from so many wonderful people at both of my schools. I'm eternally grateful to all of them! Today restored my faith, not only in kids' views of their mothers, but in the belief that Taiwanese people are the best people on Earth. Period. Thank you all so much! It's not even my birthday yet (okay fine it's 2am...), and yet this ranks among my best ever because of you. Thank you!

Love.

Today was my short day, as all Tuesdays are, and so most of my day was spent at home either being productive or procrastinating about being productive. (Or at Starbucks realizing I'd forgotten most of the essential things I needed to be productive.) But that's not to say that I didn't have time first to be reminded of how much I love my job!

We taught professions to the 6th graders today, including an activity strongly resembling the one we used last semester to teach professions to the 5th graders, but with stricter injunctions against "careers" like killer, thief, and, a popular one today, terrorist. (Oh dear.)

Nonetheless, I loved today because I love hearing what my students want to be--or what they want to joke about being, as the case may be. One of my top-level students, Jay, first raised his hand to say he wanted to be a "watermelon monster." We told him that wasn't a job and moved on. He raised his hand a second time and said he wanted to be a "shemale." We, again, told him that wasn't a job, and I made a mental note that his buqiban teacher must have an interesting sense of humor. (Eventually he said he wanted to be a wrestler.)

It's just so wonderful to hear kids claiming their dreams, at a time when all their dreams are still cool and not boring or faded. When you still have 3 basketball players in a room, and several astronauts and dancers and entertainers and fire fighters, but also get the more thought out but still hard-to-get professions, like fashion designers and architects and computer programmers and paleontologists (yes, one girl claimed it! Another wanted to be an archeologist; writing those words on the board was nerve-wracking for my spelling abilities ,though I got them right). One boy wanted to build the dais (litters? stretchers?) they put deities on for parades (I told him carpenter?); another boy wanted to be a wig designer. I just love the creativity they still have in elementary school!

Then classes were over. As I walked towards the elevators, two of my favorite 5th grade girls, Sammi and Judy, (they always bring me my lunch and chat with me; they recently had me fill out a card for their friendship address book :) ) popped out from behind a pillar and came towards me--bearing gifts! See, my birthday is coming up--another adorable student had given me a very cute pink birthday card earlier--and, thanks to the little cards Judy and Sammi had me fill out, they knew that, and they got me presents. So precious! And the gifts themselves were adorable, too! It's not even my birthday yet and I'm feeling so loved.

Judy's gift! A crystal bear--and about 5X more wrapping paper than was truly necessary. :)

(part of) Sammi's gift: a hippo and hear mug and a pop-up birthday card with a poodle. <3

Everything,including Sarah's card (far left)! Note the cookies in the middle: the rest of Sammi's gift. Girl knows me: cookies and a coffee mug!

Ice Cream

Wow, four out of my last five posts concern food. Annnnd who can guess what Bekah's missing about America?

Today, though, I feel that I'm justified. For class today, Alison and I taught the 6th graders the past tense, along with a handful of new location words: museum, post office, train station, restaurant--and ice cream shop. For our game, I wrote a bunch of little paragraph-long stories about people, detailing where they go during the day, and then asking "Where was _(person)__  _(time)__?" The first kid to raise their hand and get it right won a point for their team, which was, in this case, illustrated by earning the picture of the people they answered right about.

Here's an example about "Joe":

Today is Monday. In the morning, Joe eats breakfast at home. After breakfast, Joe goes to school. After school, Joe goes to the ice cream shop with his dad. Then, they go home and eat dinner. Where was Joe Monday after school?

 The answer, of course, is "Joe was at the ice cream shop."

And Joe wasn't alone in going to the ice cream shop. He was joined, in these stories, by Isaac, Luke, Isabel, and Chloe. Add to this the fact that "ice cream shop" is part of the new vocabulary we're learning (read: endless repetition), and that, to keep kids' interest, each class today included asking the kids their favorite ice cream flavors. Add to that the fact that today was in the 90s F, but "felt like" 102F, thanks to the oh-so-lovely humidity.

Then maybe it'll make sense as to why I'm writing about ice cream today.

After dinner, I decided I just had to have some. I tried to fight it, tried to remind myself that it's bad for me and expensive here, but it was no use. I did at least talk myself down from my original plan (Coldstone Creamery not far from here!) and decided to "just go and see" what they had at the local grocery store.

And the local grocery store, wow! It's been closed all month for renovations, and man did they renovate! It's like a whole new store, and it definitely feels more Western--larger isles, a greater variety, wider open spaces; though I know it's impossible, it actually feels bigger, too. And they had ice cream. Strawberry ice cream. In a carton. It's not the same, of course (made me suspect this is actually what they used for my shake the other day), but it was cold and it was creamy and it was DELICIOUS on a hot evening.

I can never seem to help myself from getting brainwashed by my own lessons, particularly when they urge me towards what I want anyway. But, really, is that so bad when it means cold ice cream on a 100+ degree day? I think not.

Down by the banks

Remember that? Down by the banks of the hanky-panky, where the bullfrog jumps from bank to banky...

Well, I have to admit, it had been a while since I'd thought about it, that little, simple, hand-clap game we used to play at Camp Crestview while waiting in line for meals. Until today.

Today, Hanmin kids had 3 midterms in the morning, meaning I taught a grand total of one class, and by "taught," I of course mean "played down by the banks" for an entire class period. And they loved it! We played one giant round, working from the 30+ kid class down to the champion, and the rules were that, once you got out, you helped sing. And they did! Which, from talking to other ETAs who've taught hand-clap games, is not a common outcome.

Of course, when you repeat four lines 30+ times...

Making it work

Can I be honest? I don't really want to blog tonight. But here goes.

Today marks possibly the first time all year that I've gotten up on a Thursday morning with a specific purpose in mind: in this case, to climb Monkey Mountain with Kaitlin.

There were several problems with this plan, the most notable of which being that I had never before been to Monkey Mountain and thus had no idea where we should go to hike. Information gleaned from Rachel (who'd done it twice before but had never driven there) and the Internet (which had surprisingly little to say on the subject other than 'do it') taught me it should be easy enough if I just took Wufu and followed the signs for the zoo, and then the giant yellow banana signs. Of the latter, one oh-so-helpful blogger had this to say: "If you can't follow these, you're a moron."

Well, I am not a moron. But the signs, while large and easy to see, are themselves quite moronic. In essence, they led us on a wild goose chase around the mountain. We first followed them up the mountain and parked somewhere, wandered around and found nothing. So, we returned to a huge grouping of giant yellow banana signs--pointing in two different directions, and with the places they were pointing to written solely in Chinese.

We picked one to follow and ended up at the zoo where, according to some Internet denizens, you can also take a little hike. Except there were no trails in sight. So we headed back to our sign beachhead and went the other way, which eventually led us to a temple--another place where, according to my research, there should be trails. Indeed, inside the complex, there was even a portion marked "hiking trail."

We walked to the back of the temple (so far so good) and found a little trail, which we climbed, and where I did manage to see my first Taiwanese monkeys, lounging on the temple roof. "Great," I thought, "Now let's hike!"

Then the trail ended. We spent a while looking for others, but to no avail--that was destined to be the extent of our hiking experience.

On the plus side, though, that then gave us time to visit the always gorgeous British Consulate Residence, Wu Pao Chen bakery, and try to find a Starbucks selling a Kaohsiung mug (fail).

Then it was time for me to go to school, while Kaitlin got some rest. Highlights at school:

• Patty suggesting I take a little nap because I wasn't feeling well;
• me: "What is Teacher Patty wearing?" (correct answer: pants) 6th grade boy: "Ugly pants!"
• Remedial class begins again--love love LOVE getting to teach a class of 6! Back to being able to say "Howard, what's this word? Teddy, what letter comes next? Jenny, what sound does 'k' make?" Judy, what's this word? Leo, what is this? Evan, what's this word?" It always makes me jealous of those in the county schools with tiny classes....*coughKarinacough*

Great day overall, though! Despite minor geographical failings.

Little Moments

I feel like I've used that title before, but I don't care. All days are made up of little moments, and today they were all happy ones, dozens of little gems strung along in particular order. Each one stands alone, like a Facebook status, without any apparent connection to the others. And, as it's past midnight, I can't be bothered to forge one, so here they are, in their individual glories:

I discovered that both of the kids sitting in the far front of my 6th grade classrooms are named "Tim." Gotta love mnemonics!

Alison and my hybrid drawing game for phonics went off beautifully, and the kids really seemed to enjoy it in every class. Yeah multi-sensory engagement!

I came home to the delivery of a package from the States, containing my new Kindle cover (so cute!) and new headphones to replace the ones that didn't quite survive their recent trip through the wash. Official day count to ship home to here: 11 days.

I spent my afternoon in Sunnyday Cafe, making real progress on the first short story I've seriously attempted in a while. I like where it's going.

I stopped in at Watson's and bought mouthwash, an uninteresting tidbit but for the fact that, in addition to its being half off and buy one get one, my purchase somehow earned me a smallish, heart-shaped, pink fleece  pillow. Only in Taiwan. <3

Seen here in its natural habitat.

Parking at the gym was easy! Always a bonus, since it's right behind a major department store...

My workout was great. I'm going to be so sore tomorrow, and that's the best thing I can think of at the moment. I've finally reached the point where (knock on wood) I actually enjoy working out!

I came home ravenous, and a single touch of the knife was enough to make my watermelon burst open of its own accord. You know it's a good melon (and it was!) when...

Finally, I found this, a great little spoof on The Hunger Games called The Hunger Pains. Definitely worth checking it out.

And that was my day!

Celebrity

I see it as soon as Alison and I rounded the corner towards our office: a line of kids spilling out into the hallway, squirming its way through the doorway, past the other teachers and ending at my desk.I can't help but laugh--and then squeeze past them and to my desk as quickly as possible, swiveling my chair to face the first eager face.

"Hey, Teacher Bekah, what's up?"
"Not much, how about you?"
"Not much."

Yes, this is what's prompted the sudden flood of students: the chance to practice their English.

"Good job," I say, and hold out a bag of candy.

Okay, so that might have something to do with it, too. The first boy scampers off, and into his place steps the next in line: "Hey, Teacher Bekah, what's up?"

My ten minute break consists entirely in this dialogue, lifted from our Morning English lesson and repeated by this particular class, as I soon learn, on command, since their home room teacher had been less than pleased with their behavior that morning. She sits at the desk across from me as they file by, watching. The other subject teachers hover around the periphery, laughing at the spectacle, and out of the corner of my eye a catch a few cameras aimed my way as I talk with each kid and sometimes, on request, sign an autograph.

It had started as a simple idea, one which reminded me of my mom's teaching style and which therefore, I well knew, would very likely jump the tracks of orderliness and expectations. My thought process went like this: I want the kids here to be able to say "What's up?" "Not much"  instead of "How-are-you-I'm-fine-thanks-and-you?" Just saying it in a dialogue won't plant it in their heads. I have a bag of leftover candy in my office that needs to be eaten soon. *ding!*

"Today only, if you come to my office on break and say 'What's up?' you can have a piece of candy!"

And, well, it worked; even on those breaks which didn't include a press-ganged class of misbehaving 6th graders, I had at least 10 kids coming to try out their new phrase; as of now, my candy is about half gone, a fact that I love despite the fact that I have 3 more sessions at this grade level alone, without even factoring in the younger kids. But it worked: the kids are using this vital American phrase. And, as a bonus, I got a day of feeling like a superstar.

So, I'm going to need to be investing in some candy here pretty soon...

CAN I HELP YOU?

"CAN I HELP YOU?"
"YES, I THINK WE'RE LOST. IS THERE A SUPERMARKET NEARBY?"

I watch as the two 11-year-old boys whose names I have yet to learn propel each other backward with their screams, escalating their simple textbook dialog to something out of The Fast and the Furious. (From what I can tell, that is, never having seen that movie.) Their faces inches apart, each line takes them halfway across the classroom, as their momentarily line-less fellow actor and the rest of their giggling class look on.

I guess this is what it looks like when you make learning fun?

The assignment was simple: two teams of three volunteers each, act out the dialog for your classmates, who will then vote for the "best" performance. I envisioned, and encouraged, grand theatrical motions and exaggerated voices, and I did see some of those. But even so, no two performances were the same: some took the straight route, while others went for funny; some groups had boys and girls playing boys and girls, while others had boys fighting against (and then loving) pulling falsettos and girls barking out their lines; some involved long, not-quite-whispered conferences on how to perform, while others went completely by the seat of their pants, assigning roles and immediately diving in.

Though it was a system I set in place, and without which no doubt the creativity and drive my kids showed me would not have existed, I came to regret, somewhat, the final vote which elevated one performance over the other. In some classes, the tally was grossly lopsided, like 4-16, when in actual fact both teams had performed extraordinarily well; even when the scores were close, I found myself wondering how much the vote had to do with what the students saw and how much had to do with who they hung out with outside of class. So far, though, I can't think of a way to eliminate that particular pitfall, and even those not chosen today seemed unfazed by the judgment.

The experiment in creativity continues tomorrow, with 6th graders--today was 5th--and it will be interesting to see how they react to the task; whether they'll participate willingly, or whether they'll consider themselves "too cool."

But I'll be honest: I'm hoping for another friendly screaming match.

Kids and Questions, Questions and Kids

"How old are you?"
"Are you married?"
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Are there any boys who like you?"
"What 'type' of guy do you like?"
"What's your blood type?"

No, this is not a somewhat creepy dating survey I found while surfing the Internet. Rather, these are questions I was asked today--most, repeatedly--by my sixth graders.

Hooray for all new classes at Hanmin!

For the first day, apart from a book-check, that's basically what we did: introduce me, by way of a massive question session which turned often towards my personal life. I was expecting it, of course--this is not my first time being introduced to a classroom of Taiwanese 6th graders, after all--but it never ceases to amuse me the questions they'll ask. This time at least a few tended towards the inappropriate, evidenced by Alison's pursed lips and refusal to translate as the class burst into laughter and I caught the words "ta ting bu dong" (she doesn't understand) floating around as we moved on, but overall it's just fun to see where my kids' curiosity leads them.

And today it led them in some fun directions, as I found myself explaining, not just about my dating life (or lack thereof), but about my family, my hometown, my pets (number, type, size, and, which I found most interesting, age), my favorite sports and teams (Mariners and Seahawk love! The kids all knew Ichiro, which was fun), whether I liked ice hockey (I said not really, then discovered the questioner was a hockey player--whoops!--and changed my tune), whether I'd ever seen a ghost (no) or an elf (no, and here I took the opportunity to tell this particular boy that I hadn't seen a vampire or a zombie, either), whether I had a chameleon (no), whether I liked turtles (yes), whether I had ever been to San Francisco, whether I had ever been to Japan...the list goes on and on.

I liked being back in the classroom, meeting new kids and, this time, putting together what I hope will be a workable system of actually learning their names in a timely manner: I'm taking notes on the location and unique attributes of each class as I go, including a seating chart for each on individually dedicated pages of my teaching notebook. I had three classes today, 6-1 (first class of the day on the first floor, yay mnemonics!), 6-10 (second class, second floor) and 6-9 (last class, highest floor), and so far I can tell you a few kids' names and where they sit, thanks to things like the cluster of Wendys in 6-1 and the Steven table in 6-10, plus fun things like a Quinton in 6-1 who resembles my friend Quinton back home, and a very bright-eyed and attentive front-row sitter named Kevin in 6-10.

The questions were just one aspect of the joys of being back in my wonderful schools; the best part is the students behind them. Having new kids breaks the sting of not seeing the ones from last semester in class anymore; so, too, does the fact that I saw several classes worth of them in the halls, or by my desk as some of my favorite girls from last semester, Lily and Sammi, brought me my lunch.

Really, any of these kids could ask me just about any questions, personal or not, and I'd answer. They're just too amazing to mind it.
---
And now, because I have decided I like recurring themes, I give you another unsolved mystery of Taiwan! This one stems from a seemingly innocuous item: Nutella.

Or, rather, the abcense of Nutella. See, I was craving it the other day at the grocery store, but of course they didn't have it, so I picked up a jar of  off-brand "chocolate hazelnut spread":

 

Except, oh yeah...

...it also had caramel mixed in. Not a huge deal, caramel's a good flavor too, and look at those pictures up there--looks like roughly a 50-50 split, right? Should be fine.

So today, I decide nothing sounds better than a Nutella(ish)-spread piece of bread for an afternoon snack (no judging, you know you want one too). So I go to the cupboard, grab a piece of bread and my jar of handy-dandy Nutella(ish) spread. I open the lid. I peel off the interior seal. And I see....

This.

I'm sorry, but what? Scroll up and look at the label again. It says: "chocolate hazelnut spread." Then a gap. And then, as if it were a bonus, "+caramel." It most definitely did not say "caramel sauce! with a thin streak of chocolate hazelnut mixed in for color!" Nor did the outside stripe pattern give any indication whatsoever as to what was inside.

False advertising: gr. Don't get between me and my chocolate fix! Why do they do this? Probably because caramel's cheaper or something. I don't know. It's a mystery, after all!

In the end, it still tasted okay. But not nearly enough chocolate.