Ironically I have been watching more American television over here than while in the States, and the above title comes from a classic western romance. My roommate introduced me - bootstraps, shotguns, and cowboy hats. Assuredly couples such as the one in this movie grow to love each other over the course of time, though tonight I have found that a similar vein of heartstrings can be pulled through the embrace of school family.
Tonight was the art and science show/graduation/whatever else we needed to fit into the last performance event of the year. Now my second graduation at our school, we have doubled our numbers - from one to two. In short, I adore these girls. Perchance my mood is influenced by the sedating haze of stage lights over flowers and hugs, speeches with inspirational quotes, and the tossing of grad caps after a rousing rendition of "We're All In This Together", compliments of the ever-popular High School Musical. Real life movie scenes have that romantic pull. Yet I constantly find myself puzzling over who these kids are that we teach? Yes they are Korean and Japanese and French and German and Polish and Taiwanese and...and...
They are, or at the moment seem to be, unreal. Our high schoolers all genuinely care, and if I might, love each other. Our seniors challenged the younger grades to care about our community, to welcome newbies as family. They challenged each other to a new place of sisterhood, to stand by no matter what. Our graduates on stage, their language improvement seemed the surface joy, their persons the deeper love.
For the moment, I am the proud parent, the lover of beauty and romance, the reciter of poems, the hiker upon the vista, the scientist upon a breakthrough, the student upon an aced exam. No other profession can tempt me. No mistake and faltering of the past can be toted. For as we were reminded this morning in staff meeting, "what was meant for evil, He meant for good". I boarded the plane close to 2 years ago knowing little about the place I was to be. Tonight I know there is no place I would rather be. I know a bit more now, details such as lesson plans and grade books and staff members. I get in my work zone of task after task. I know. Yet there are still moments of wonder, such as this evening.
What am I doing here? What is this place? Can such a school really exist? Yes. It can and it does. Tomorrow I will have to write an exam, the next grade papers, and one day consider if this school should hold a place in my life for longer than four years. That anxious day will come soon. (We cried over those leaving tonight.) For now, though, I want to allow such a moment as the snap of a photograph or the bowing greeting with a Korean parent to linger like gazing into a lover's eyes. Softly and for right now.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
My Roommate Getting Volunteered
She was picked to be the foreign master of ceremonies for a Chinese marketing campaign. Thanks to Doug (our principal who likes to help get us involved in community activities) I got to tag along as moral support.
The following video takes place during a public relations event to sell housing throughout China. Ironically though, the living spaces and developments being sold were called Spain. The owners of the company were apparently trying to create little Spanish villages around the country. I was bemused by the selling tactics - soloists, a fashion show, and a finance lecture. We were told that we were free to leave and eat cake during the lecture, that no one listens anyway. We shrugged and headed to the refreshment table. I don't remember if it was good cake. I only remember the soloist and the accompanying bubbles.
The following video takes place during a public relations event to sell housing throughout China. Ironically though, the living spaces and developments being sold were called Spain. The owners of the company were apparently trying to create little Spanish villages around the country. I was bemused by the selling tactics - soloists, a fashion show, and a finance lecture. We were told that we were free to leave and eat cake during the lecture, that no one listens anyway. We shrugged and headed to the refreshment table. I don't remember if it was good cake. I only remember the soloist and the accompanying bubbles.
Tao Yuan-ming Tribute
Chinese writing is often so beautiful, poignant, and so tragic. It would be a pity to miss some of the words it offers. This one is entitled "Drinking Wine".
"I built my hut in a place where people live,and yet there's no clatter of carriage or horse. You ask me how that could be? With a mind remote, the region too grows distant.
I pick chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge, see the southern mountain, calm and still.
The mountain air is beautiful at close of day, birds on the wing coming home together.
In all this there's some principle of truth, but try to define it and you forget the word."
by Tao Yuan-ming
"I built my hut in a place where people live,and yet there's no clatter of carriage or horse. You ask me how that could be? With a mind remote, the region too grows distant.
I pick chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge, see the southern mountain, calm and still.
The mountain air is beautiful at close of day, birds on the wing coming home together.
In all this there's some principle of truth, but try to define it and you forget the word."
by Tao Yuan-ming
Anecdotes
as of 7/7/08
This afternoon my language teacher commented, “I fully expect to be able to vote one day.” Interesting.
The country is clearly moving in the direction of capitalist inspired democracy. The speed of change is still debatable and most assuredly still very volatile. The definition of this new Asian democracy may certainly encompass a constitution, but the whole Bill of Rights idea most likely will take longer to catch on because it iconically represents the West.
From Chinese lessons today, I wonder the validity in the following statement from my instructor:
Democracy is less efficient (I assume than communism). When China reaches the prosperity of the west, even surpasses it, then it will be ready for democracy. Until then…
I have never considered democracy in terms of efficiency, but rather only in terms of precision and hopefully accuracy. Historically there have been issues with the masses making decisions. Let “Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?” prove its point. Yet history has also commonly asked, “Do we fully trust our leaders?” Indeed if I was the leader, do I even fully trust myself?
This afternoon my language teacher commented, “I fully expect to be able to vote one day.” Interesting.
The country is clearly moving in the direction of capitalist inspired democracy. The speed of change is still debatable and most assuredly still very volatile. The definition of this new Asian democracy may certainly encompass a constitution, but the whole Bill of Rights idea most likely will take longer to catch on because it iconically represents the West.
From Chinese lessons today, I wonder the validity in the following statement from my instructor:
Democracy is less efficient (I assume than communism). When China reaches the prosperity of the west, even surpasses it, then it will be ready for democracy. Until then…
I have never considered democracy in terms of efficiency, but rather only in terms of precision and hopefully accuracy. Historically there have been issues with the masses making decisions. Let “Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?” prove its point. Yet history has also commonly asked, “Do we fully trust our leaders?” Indeed if I was the leader, do I even fully trust myself?
Splendid Summer Mornings
as of 7/5/08
My windowsill has become a favorite spot and I find myself missing it while away on business and pleasure trips. It is my hermitage for reading, thinking, and writing. This particular Sunday I have concocted muffins from scratch. (Still loving variations of that recipe, Mom. Thanks much). Complimented with iced coffee reminding me of my sister, I am prepared. It is amazing how much the right combination of foods can create a mood.
Common sights from my fifth floor window box are bicyclists loaded down with wood, plastics, piping and the like. I keep checking for the wide-load security signs as commonly seen on the back of vehicles in the States, yet here a wide-load seems an average load for wiry pedalers. Trucks and taxis drive about on the sidewalks of our apartment complex with their daily to-do’s. Women parade by in their baby-doll party dresses with frills and laces. The sun is safely blocked from their faces with an equally frilly umbrella. I’m not so much about these frills for girls past the age of seven, but they do take care of their skin.
My reading for the morning is a book my Mom sent, Enjoying the Presence of (the Father). I promised a breakfast date with Dad since last night when I was tied up at a friend’s apartment in the rain. Somehow I had been volunteered to bring the school’s projector and laptop equipment to our weekly fellowship meeting. Last night there was no way to safely escort the materials home in the torrential downpour via bike, taxi, or bus, so my friend and I watched Adam Sandler’s 50 First Dates over soup as we waited for the rain to subside. An acceptable evening, but in no way up to the caliber of jazz and reading – my original idea. Jazz24 has become our excellent choice of jazz streaming, by the way. I recommend it.
This morning, however, is just the thing. Summer is for inspirational relaxation after all. I have been pondering the disciplines. Yesterday’s fellowship group watched Rick Warren’s message to the Asia conference titled Affluence and Excellence. Today’s reading delved into the ways that the physical body can be a real expression of veneration to the Father. If the desire is to be more completely taken by Him, grasping the idea of breathing his presence, then He must become more a part of daily living. With His daily presence there is peace that transcends logical understanding and inner joy regardless of circumstance. It is the sensation of taking home with me wherever I go. It is the calming dissonance of real understanding amidst language and cultural obstructions.
Practically, I am challenged to out-give our Father. Affluence is relative. It will always be possible to convince myself into poverty or riches. I have been given a salary (though some prefer to call it a stipend). We have house cleaners, go for pedicures, and travel frequently. We also are considered below poverty line by State-side standards. I am literate and have a university degree. I speak English. Better yet, I am trained to teach it. Still I do not read or speak in more than 2.5 languages. I do not yet have a master’s degree. I am currently China-fit –meaning I can walk, bike, and climb stairs with 5 sacks of groceries. I am also no longer in the best shape of my racing life. Perspective is everything. Daily I am convinced that the true battle for fulfillment, joy, and peace begins and ends in the mind. Hence the reason for my window dwelling.
Rick Warren challenged us, “What do you have in your hand?” From the story of Moses, that very thing is your staff and also the rod of the Father. Which do you choose it to be? Will you pick it up or lay it down? These abilities and monetary funds of mine are both pauper’s coins and riches. I desire to be a good steward of my gifts, using them for the blessing of others so to most glorify the Father.
I was reminded of our human frailty the other day when I ridiculously ran into a flowerbed while biking. (Typical, right?) I felt like an idiot and managed to rip the skin off the insides of two toes. By the time we returned to my friend’s apartment, I had lost so much blood I was nauseous. I have been hobbling around for the last two days – all due to a minor altercation with an inanimate object. Oh my, how pathetic and weak I can be. I think the parallel can be extended to other areas. Money and popularity and success waffles easily.
So in all disciplines, in affluence, in influence as a teacher and as secondary lead, in athletics, in hospitality, in language learning, in travel, in cleaning my apartment, in food preparation and consumption, in reading, in movies and music – in all things may I grow to be more disciplined and more willing to offer these things in my hand to the hand of the Father. I believe what Warren shared that one can never out-give the Giver. I am off to clean the house now. May even this small act be a reflection of His character, in work that is thoroughly and well done.
My windowsill has become a favorite spot and I find myself missing it while away on business and pleasure trips. It is my hermitage for reading, thinking, and writing. This particular Sunday I have concocted muffins from scratch. (Still loving variations of that recipe, Mom. Thanks much). Complimented with iced coffee reminding me of my sister, I am prepared. It is amazing how much the right combination of foods can create a mood.
Common sights from my fifth floor window box are bicyclists loaded down with wood, plastics, piping and the like. I keep checking for the wide-load security signs as commonly seen on the back of vehicles in the States, yet here a wide-load seems an average load for wiry pedalers. Trucks and taxis drive about on the sidewalks of our apartment complex with their daily to-do’s. Women parade by in their baby-doll party dresses with frills and laces. The sun is safely blocked from their faces with an equally frilly umbrella. I’m not so much about these frills for girls past the age of seven, but they do take care of their skin.
My reading for the morning is a book my Mom sent, Enjoying the Presence of (the Father). I promised a breakfast date with Dad since last night when I was tied up at a friend’s apartment in the rain. Somehow I had been volunteered to bring the school’s projector and laptop equipment to our weekly fellowship meeting. Last night there was no way to safely escort the materials home in the torrential downpour via bike, taxi, or bus, so my friend and I watched Adam Sandler’s 50 First Dates over soup as we waited for the rain to subside. An acceptable evening, but in no way up to the caliber of jazz and reading – my original idea. Jazz24 has become our excellent choice of jazz streaming, by the way. I recommend it.
This morning, however, is just the thing. Summer is for inspirational relaxation after all. I have been pondering the disciplines. Yesterday’s fellowship group watched Rick Warren’s message to the Asia conference titled Affluence and Excellence. Today’s reading delved into the ways that the physical body can be a real expression of veneration to the Father. If the desire is to be more completely taken by Him, grasping the idea of breathing his presence, then He must become more a part of daily living. With His daily presence there is peace that transcends logical understanding and inner joy regardless of circumstance. It is the sensation of taking home with me wherever I go. It is the calming dissonance of real understanding amidst language and cultural obstructions.
Practically, I am challenged to out-give our Father. Affluence is relative. It will always be possible to convince myself into poverty or riches. I have been given a salary (though some prefer to call it a stipend). We have house cleaners, go for pedicures, and travel frequently. We also are considered below poverty line by State-side standards. I am literate and have a university degree. I speak English. Better yet, I am trained to teach it. Still I do not read or speak in more than 2.5 languages. I do not yet have a master’s degree. I am currently China-fit –meaning I can walk, bike, and climb stairs with 5 sacks of groceries. I am also no longer in the best shape of my racing life. Perspective is everything. Daily I am convinced that the true battle for fulfillment, joy, and peace begins and ends in the mind. Hence the reason for my window dwelling.
Rick Warren challenged us, “What do you have in your hand?” From the story of Moses, that very thing is your staff and also the rod of the Father. Which do you choose it to be? Will you pick it up or lay it down? These abilities and monetary funds of mine are both pauper’s coins and riches. I desire to be a good steward of my gifts, using them for the blessing of others so to most glorify the Father.
I was reminded of our human frailty the other day when I ridiculously ran into a flowerbed while biking. (Typical, right?) I felt like an idiot and managed to rip the skin off the insides of two toes. By the time we returned to my friend’s apartment, I had lost so much blood I was nauseous. I have been hobbling around for the last two days – all due to a minor altercation with an inanimate object. Oh my, how pathetic and weak I can be. I think the parallel can be extended to other areas. Money and popularity and success waffles easily.
So in all disciplines, in affluence, in influence as a teacher and as secondary lead, in athletics, in hospitality, in language learning, in travel, in cleaning my apartment, in food preparation and consumption, in reading, in movies and music – in all things may I grow to be more disciplined and more willing to offer these things in my hand to the hand of the Father. I believe what Warren shared that one can never out-give the Giver. I am off to clean the house now. May even this small act be a reflection of His character, in work that is thoroughly and well done.
A Study
I come to work with a bag of books full of thinking on all I have to give them.
They are the confounded, the misguided, the standoffish and bitter – There is a book for each, even the sensitive and closed student who opens to Frankenstein turning the pages she first read in French. They are the unguarded, the naïve, the reflective and candid – the wide-eyed and sincere student who offers a gift with a little bow. “The winter is coming. This scarf will keep you warm,” one says. What I unwrap is all they have to give me – invariably genuine, simple and profound .
Yet I am always surprised as I study them day in and out at their desks peering into books on authenticity, vernacular, and truth. They inhabit the secret gardens, the hobbit holes, the dungeons and the sea portals – and perhaps are learning to consider me just as closely fondly unwrapped and woven. - EJC Nov’07
They are the confounded, the misguided, the standoffish and bitter – There is a book for each, even the sensitive and closed student who opens to Frankenstein turning the pages she first read in French. They are the unguarded, the naïve, the reflective and candid – the wide-eyed and sincere student who offers a gift with a little bow. “The winter is coming. This scarf will keep you warm,” one says. What I unwrap is all they have to give me – invariably genuine, simple and profound .
Yet I am always surprised as I study them day in and out at their desks peering into books on authenticity, vernacular, and truth. They inhabit the secret gardens, the hobbit holes, the dungeons and the sea portals – and perhaps are learning to consider me just as closely fondly unwrapped and woven. - EJC Nov’07
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