Peace and Quiet

My first weekend in Shenyang was quiet for the most part, which is a blessing, because this whole place sounds very noisy to my American ears.  Chinese is a loud language.  It has four tones.  The same sound can be pronounced up to four different ways, and each carries an entirely different meaning.  If spoken too softly, Chinese is difficult for the listener to understand because the tones are not distinct.  However, compared to English, even noisy, unrefined, American English, Chinese sounds harsh and fast.  For example, my roommate in divinity school, Xu, was from Beijing.  During the first week we roomed together she told me all about her boyfriend, back at home.  One night he called, and I overheard Xu’s side of the conversation.  It sounded like an argument. She was scolding him, I thought, or breaking up with him.  When she hung up, I ran over and said, “Oh, Xu, is everything OK? Are you alright?” She looked confused.  It had just been a normal conversation.

On Saturday, I slept in a bit.  I didn’t realize how tired I was from the stress and excitement of the week before.  When I came out of my room, Vicky and her mother had taken Katie to a math lesson, and Harry (Vicky’s husband – he picked an easy English name, just for me!) was still asleep.  I had the whole place to myself.  I fixed my own breakfast, bread with jam and coffee, and settled onto the couch for a long read. It was so peaceful.  It felt good to just do something normal.  The TV wasn’t blaring, Katie wasn't practicing her recorder, Vicky wasn’t chatting online with her sister in England, I didn’t need to fight through the hustling traffic outside, or wrestle my way through a crowded market, or say hello to dozens and dozens of noisy school children that want to meet the Fifty Foot Woman.  It was quiet. Shhhh!

When Harry woke up, he came into the living room and gestured for me to turn on the TV.  Well, there goes the peace and quiet, I thought.  However, he tuned the TV to Channel 9, which is the English language channel.  Who knew? I watched an English broadcast of Premier Wen addressing the deputies at the opening session of the National People’s Congress.  It reminded me of the State of the Union Address.  The Premier talked about how much China had progressed in the last five years, outlined general goals for the nation in the next five, and then spoke more specifically about the work to be done in 2011.  The words “moderate prosperity of the people,” “growth of the economy,” “regulating inflation,” and “redistribution of resources” came up a lot.  He spent lots of time talking about how local governments would be held accountable for building low-income housing, and how the national government would be responsible for regulating the real estate market.  The deputies clapped politely at the end of each section.  Many of them were in regional costume to represent their districts. Most were taking notes and reading along with the speech, and none of them hollered or hooted.  After the broadcast, there were several minutes of political analysis and discussion a la CNN.  I don’t normally watch stuff like that at home, but it was fun to here.

When Vicky and her mother and Katie returned, Vicky announced that we were going to make dumplings.  Oh, boy!  We went back to Tesco, my new favorite place, to buy ingredients.  The filling was made of ground pork, onions, shallots, garlic, and ginger, all chopped finely and mixed into a paste.  Vicky bought pre-made dumpling wrappers, but told me that they were basically rice flour and water mixed into a dough, rolled paper-thin, and cut into circles.  I got to help with the assembly.  To make a proper dumpling, one puts a dab of filling in the middle of the round wrapper, folds the wrapper over, and pinches the edges together so that it stands up on its own.  My dumplings looked like Italian raviolis, not Chinese dumplings.  I don’t quite have the feel for it yet.  The dumplings are put into a special pot that steams them for about ten minutes, and then comes the best part.  Eating them!  Even my ugly dumplings were delicious.  We made so many dumplings that we ate them again for breakfast on Sunday and Monday.

I spent Saturday night working out my lesson plans for the first graders on Monday and Tuesday.  I feel very nervous about this whole thing.  My mother is a retired first grade teacher, and I grew up watching how hard she worked to put together lessons for them. Her lessons looked effortless and fun, but I know the real truth.  This is one of the main reasons I decided not to become an elementary school teacher.  But here I am, about to teach a nursery rhyme to 360 six-year-olds that don’t speak any English.

Because I will be rotating to twelve different classrooms, I thought it would be nice to have a copy of the poem written on a poster to carry around with me, rather than recopy it on to the chalkboard in every classroom.  I also wanted to make illustrations of the important vocabulary words to hang up as we learned them.  So, while I was at Tesco, I hunted for poster board, markers, and crayons.  Even with its huge inventory, Tesco did not have big markers or poster board.  I asked Vicky and Lili if they had ever heard of it, and neither had.  They also had not heard of butcher paper.  So, I used typing paper and skinny markers to make illustrations of the words as best I could.  They are not as big as I’d like.  The first grade classrooms have between thirty-five and forty kids in them.  I’m afraid it will be hard for them to see.  And if it is hard for them to see, managing their behavior is a problem.  And once thirty-five six-year-olds tune me out, I’m toast.

I’m sorry to report that I was just too nervous to enjoy the last bit of peace and quiet of the weekend on Sunday night.  I guess the Sunday night blues have followed me all the way to China.