I should begin Part II of China Tales with one of my unpublished blog entries that is partially responsible for my writing hiatus. I wrote, reread, and added to this blog draft over several weeks. The thoughts it contains occupied my mind for most of March, April, and May. I was so torn on whether to stay in China for another year or return home that I found it hard to think about anything else.
After weeks of anticipation, the head of our program finally sent out an email detailing the process for returning next year. Typical of people who have been living in China too long, this email gave us only one week to decide. Ideally, most people would have been thinking about this decision long before this email was sent, and I had been thinking about it. It is just that now I am forced to decide the question that has been puzzling me, well, since I got here. This question has been the hottest topic among the programs participants for the last two months. A typical conversation usually goes something like this:
Me: “So what are you thinking about doing next year?”
Other program member: Sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I will stay. What am I going to do in the U.S.?”
Me: “So are you staying in the program or looking for another job abroad?”
Other program member: Sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe somewhere else in China would be nice—Hong Kong, Shanghai, Guangzhou.”
Me: “Have you found anything yet?”
Other program member: “No.”
I’ve had that conversation with at least half the people in our program over the past few weeks, including last weekend, and it is always the same defeated resignation to stay for lack of anything else better to do. I am no different. I have casually browsed the internet to see if any other teaching jobs in China sound interesting, but I’m not really motivated. How different can it be? It is still China. And what if it’s worse? I already have a network here. Why risk it? I’ve had a similar reaction to researching other countries. If not China, where would I go? Other places could be fun, but I have to start over again. I would have to learn a new language, and I feel as if the little Chinese I have learned would be a waste. No, the decision has to be between China and home.
I decided the best course of action to solve this dilemma would be to write a pro/con list. The problem with this sort of list is that it is tinged by my mood of the day. Some days I love it here and others I hate it here. So, thus far, I have stayed away from the pro/con list for this reason. Now, however, I am forced to write it. There is no other way.
I would gauge my mood on the day I am writing this list to be favorable. Nothing much happened. I got up to the sound of screaming children, ate the same bowl of oatmeal I eat every morning, listened to NPR via the internet, tried to decide what to wear (the weather over the past few weeks has altered from the 80’s to the 50’s), and rolled into the office around 9:15 in order to avoid the hordes of children soon to emerge from their classrooms for their ten min break before my first class at 9:30. I taught three classes which went relatively well meaning the kids seemed to have fun, possibly learned something, and I didn’t come out of the classroom with a sore throat. So, I guess it was as good a day as any to make that list.
The pros for staying in China seemed to flow out effortlessly.
I’ll have a job
I can learn more Chinese
I can gain more teaching skills
It will look good on my resume
I can travel more
Another job opportunity might present itself
I’ll have time to prepare for the next year in the U.S.
They were effortless because they are the more logical side of the equation. However, logic and reason is only half of a person. The other half is emotional, and my cons to staying in China are definitely more emotional. It was much more difficult to write these because I wanted to list all the petty annoyances of day to day life. The only obvious answer was “I’ll miss home, my family, and friends.” So, that naturally went first. After that, it was a struggle—not to think of something but to narrow it down to something substantial and equivalent to the level of my answers under the pros.
Before I narrowed down my list it went something like this.
I will miss my home, my family, and my friends.
I have to deal with people staring at me like an alien.
I have to feel awkward everywhere because I stand out like a sore thumb.
I don’t know what people are saying to me. I can’t talk to them.
Chinese people are too loud.
I have to listen to men spitting.
I have to use a squat toilet and always bring my own tp.
I have to sweat through all my clothing when teaching because there is no ac.
I miss my privacy.
I miss salads, sandwiches, and cereal.
I wish I could buy cosmetic products I like, and books and magazines I can read.
I miss clean air and open spaces.
I miss direct answers and honesty…
I soon realized this list was turning into my “things I miss about America” entry. So I stopped and reevaluated. It soon became:
I’ll miss home, my family, and friends.
I have to deal with Chinese culture (language barrier, no privacy, staring)
I will give up the comfort of my culture
After I combined all of the cultural aspects into two points, the list seemed more balanced.
I then added:
I’ll have to lesson plan, most likely without a curriculum again (not my favorite thing)
Learned teaching skills may not be that applicable to the U.S. since I don’t have the same responsibilities
Harder emotionally
I’ll only have one month home this summer
Immediately after I made this pro/con list I decided the answer was China. It seems to be the most practical choice in light of the “economic crisis.” Everything under the pros for China was logical while most of my pros for going back to the U.S. were emotional. So, it came down to a head v. heart argument. Being in a good mood, my mind immediately picked out the logical answer. However, a few days, a few maddening teaching moments, and a few cultural frustrations later my emotions took over and yelled at my brain to reevaluate. Emotions are important. So the question became not, which one makes more sense, but rather, which one makes me happy.
Before I added the emotional input to the equation I walked around China asking myself “Can I do this for another year?” Can I ride on this crowded bus for another year? Can I ignore the stares for another year? Can I try and cook all of my food on a hot plate for another year? Can I teach English to classes where only a fourth of my students understand me? The list went on and on. So every class, every encounter with a Chinese person, every minute spent with my American friends, I had to ask myself, “can I do this for another year?” However, when I threw in the emotional factor, I realized this question was all wrong. It should be “will doing this for another year make me happy.” The first question had been built entirely around settling. Sure I could do those things. I did it this year, so obviously I can do it again. The second question was more philosophical: will this make me happy? So, what does make me happy? The answer to that question is something I’ve been trying to understand my whole life. At the moment, I do not know the answer to that question.
I never posted this blog draft because my decision was constantly fluctuating. I did reapply to return to the program, and I was accepted in April. However, I ultimately decided not to return. I decided to go with my emotions. Most of my friends, however, decided to go with their logic. I would say that at least 60% of the program’s participants reapplied, and many of those who did not reapply or get reaccepted into the program found another job in China. In this entry I will not divulge whether I believe now that I made the right decision, but I want to post this entry because it is a good indicator of the internal struggle that I and many of my friends went through our last few months in China.
Stay tuned for my revaluation of these thoughts now that I’ve returned to the United States!
After weeks of anticipation, the head of our program finally sent out an email detailing the process for returning next year. Typical of people who have been living in China too long, this email gave us only one week to decide. Ideally, most people would have been thinking about this decision long before this email was sent, and I had been thinking about it. It is just that now I am forced to decide the question that has been puzzling me, well, since I got here. This question has been the hottest topic among the programs participants for the last two months. A typical conversation usually goes something like this:
Me: “So what are you thinking about doing next year?”
Other program member: Sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I will stay. What am I going to do in the U.S.?”
Me: “So are you staying in the program or looking for another job abroad?”
Other program member: Sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe somewhere else in China would be nice—Hong Kong, Shanghai, Guangzhou.”
Me: “Have you found anything yet?”
Other program member: “No.”
I’ve had that conversation with at least half the people in our program over the past few weeks, including last weekend, and it is always the same defeated resignation to stay for lack of anything else better to do. I am no different. I have casually browsed the internet to see if any other teaching jobs in China sound interesting, but I’m not really motivated. How different can it be? It is still China. And what if it’s worse? I already have a network here. Why risk it? I’ve had a similar reaction to researching other countries. If not China, where would I go? Other places could be fun, but I have to start over again. I would have to learn a new language, and I feel as if the little Chinese I have learned would be a waste. No, the decision has to be between China and home.
I decided the best course of action to solve this dilemma would be to write a pro/con list. The problem with this sort of list is that it is tinged by my mood of the day. Some days I love it here and others I hate it here. So, thus far, I have stayed away from the pro/con list for this reason. Now, however, I am forced to write it. There is no other way.
I would gauge my mood on the day I am writing this list to be favorable. Nothing much happened. I got up to the sound of screaming children, ate the same bowl of oatmeal I eat every morning, listened to NPR via the internet, tried to decide what to wear (the weather over the past few weeks has altered from the 80’s to the 50’s), and rolled into the office around 9:15 in order to avoid the hordes of children soon to emerge from their classrooms for their ten min break before my first class at 9:30. I taught three classes which went relatively well meaning the kids seemed to have fun, possibly learned something, and I didn’t come out of the classroom with a sore throat. So, I guess it was as good a day as any to make that list.
The pros for staying in China seemed to flow out effortlessly.
I’ll have a job
I can learn more Chinese
I can gain more teaching skills
It will look good on my resume
I can travel more
Another job opportunity might present itself
I’ll have time to prepare for the next year in the U.S.
They were effortless because they are the more logical side of the equation. However, logic and reason is only half of a person. The other half is emotional, and my cons to staying in China are definitely more emotional. It was much more difficult to write these because I wanted to list all the petty annoyances of day to day life. The only obvious answer was “I’ll miss home, my family, and friends.” So, that naturally went first. After that, it was a struggle—not to think of something but to narrow it down to something substantial and equivalent to the level of my answers under the pros.
Before I narrowed down my list it went something like this.
I will miss my home, my family, and my friends.
I have to deal with people staring at me like an alien.
I have to feel awkward everywhere because I stand out like a sore thumb.
I don’t know what people are saying to me. I can’t talk to them.
Chinese people are too loud.
I have to listen to men spitting.
I have to use a squat toilet and always bring my own tp.
I have to sweat through all my clothing when teaching because there is no ac.
I miss my privacy.
I miss salads, sandwiches, and cereal.
I wish I could buy cosmetic products I like, and books and magazines I can read.
I miss clean air and open spaces.
I miss direct answers and honesty…
I soon realized this list was turning into my “things I miss about America” entry. So I stopped and reevaluated. It soon became:
I’ll miss home, my family, and friends.
I have to deal with Chinese culture (language barrier, no privacy, staring)
I will give up the comfort of my culture
After I combined all of the cultural aspects into two points, the list seemed more balanced.
I then added:
I’ll have to lesson plan, most likely without a curriculum again (not my favorite thing)
Learned teaching skills may not be that applicable to the U.S. since I don’t have the same responsibilities
Harder emotionally
I’ll only have one month home this summer
Immediately after I made this pro/con list I decided the answer was China. It seems to be the most practical choice in light of the “economic crisis.” Everything under the pros for China was logical while most of my pros for going back to the U.S. were emotional. So, it came down to a head v. heart argument. Being in a good mood, my mind immediately picked out the logical answer. However, a few days, a few maddening teaching moments, and a few cultural frustrations later my emotions took over and yelled at my brain to reevaluate. Emotions are important. So the question became not, which one makes more sense, but rather, which one makes me happy.
Before I added the emotional input to the equation I walked around China asking myself “Can I do this for another year?” Can I ride on this crowded bus for another year? Can I ignore the stares for another year? Can I try and cook all of my food on a hot plate for another year? Can I teach English to classes where only a fourth of my students understand me? The list went on and on. So every class, every encounter with a Chinese person, every minute spent with my American friends, I had to ask myself, “can I do this for another year?” However, when I threw in the emotional factor, I realized this question was all wrong. It should be “will doing this for another year make me happy.” The first question had been built entirely around settling. Sure I could do those things. I did it this year, so obviously I can do it again. The second question was more philosophical: will this make me happy? So, what does make me happy? The answer to that question is something I’ve been trying to understand my whole life. At the moment, I do not know the answer to that question.
I never posted this blog draft because my decision was constantly fluctuating. I did reapply to return to the program, and I was accepted in April. However, I ultimately decided not to return. I decided to go with my emotions. Most of my friends, however, decided to go with their logic. I would say that at least 60% of the program’s participants reapplied, and many of those who did not reapply or get reaccepted into the program found another job in China. In this entry I will not divulge whether I believe now that I made the right decision, but I want to post this entry because it is a good indicator of the internal struggle that I and many of my friends went through our last few months in China.
Stay tuned for my revaluation of these thoughts now that I’ve returned to the United States!
2 comments:
Nicely done.
Dad.
I can't wait to hear more!! :) Miss you friend.
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