So this is the aftermath...

You might, from previous blogs, think that my mind has been completely immersed in work. And to be honest, work has been the number one priority for me in a way that it has never been before. It is an absolute necessity now, for a period, to think through every facet, get everything as right as I can and try to manage the things that don't go as right as they could.

 

My boss has been neutralised by the company, but not fired. He can't tell us exactly what he was given to keep his voluble mouth quiet, but he had at one point been asked by the company what it would take to persuade him to "resign". He made a list. He was probably given most of that list. He wouldn't have expected that. The company hasn't had a good record on dealing with staff on their way out. He said it was a complicated negotiation and it took place at a cafe. The result is that he is leaving in just over two weeks. We have to wring all the distilled management wisdom out of him till then.

 

One other factor is that my senior teacher buddy is leaving for several weeks to finish the practical side of her advanced teaching certification on the coming Friday. I might not have explained it before but that being the biggest branch in our city (and with a new centre opening soon) we were entitled to have two senior teachers instead of the regulation one. It meant that we have had an academic management team of three, my boss and the two of us. We could put our heads together to produce plans and nut out strategies. Each of us covering key responsibilities. Come June, I'll be the only one at the bridge for several weeks, with no support but the team in my hands. The boss has even told me that his last week he's going to step back even further to put me in the deep end but with him as a lifeguard at the fringes if things get life-threatening. Either way, with the imminence of the change I'm focussing like never before.

 

The last few weeks have been a process of gradually switching to the leadership figure. If I had to write what I had learnt, it is a little bit difficult. Many of them are knacks. Others are concepts.

• you are not the company: this is an interesting one because it went against the sense I understood. With customers you are the company and must reflect that. As a leader, though, you must have a set of priorities of who you really have to consider: The team, the branch, and then the company. They are all high priorities, but the team ranking at number one means that it'll be a functional, strong, motivated group of individuals. When the team is strong even when they are dealt a load of crap by the company, they will take it and get through adversity together. If a manager takes a "I'm the company" approach with staff, quickly the see there is no recourse to them in adversity; there won't be trust. As a company where teachers become managers more often than not, we are forever troubled by managers who will just be messengers of the company, and they'll be one-way valves for information. Staff need to know that their voices and ideas are heard, even if they do in the end amount to nothing. And as my boss often says, his team are his eyes and ears - if they trust, they do say everything.
• leave the details to one on one discussions: this is the most common mistake by the other senior teacher. Meetings are ruined when you have to tell individuals details information verbally. a) the people affected won't necessarily "get" it, b) and the rest of the staff are left wondering how useless meetings are.
• visual, kinaesthetic and auditory learners are in the office too: teaching is a funny field because we're taught about the different learning styles (and you can even put Gardner's intelligences on that too) and have to make our lessons as accessible to different learners as possible. But anyone who's been through teacher training knows that there is no practice what you preach - it is delivered in the same traditional style. The quality of training and meetings are affected by these different styles so a manager must use a variety of styles.
• for trouble staff, make behavior as felt and answerable to the team, not management; and if it continues give them a rope to hang themselves: the area of discipline is one that regrettably has to be handled delicately. My boss has taught us how to make sure that documentation is just a statement of something happening. They can word it how they want as long as it is documented and signed. Don't intervene before the mistake, and where possible emphasise that wilfull bad behavior impacts the team, to the team - in fact make sure that the whole effects of the team are borne by all. Letting something happen was one of the hardest lessons; but only when it happens is it real and something to discuss with the person.
• praise, check on people and encourage and follow documentation: praise and documentation is a part of recognition and in difficult situations people do need to be checked on. Three teachers got slammed yesterday by their own workloads when we had to cover a sick person's classes on a tight day. One teacher did six contact hours, one of which was observed by me, in an eight hour period. He thanked me at the end even though in the past teachers have been upset when they have sick cover, not to mention on a day they're being observed. Many of the appraisal descriptors relate to willingness/enthusiasm to help out and these can all be noted.
• everything is important: It is easy to downplay concerns, but to an individual what may appear minor is actually a major. You need big ears and a good memory...
• get your hands dirty and make sure your seen to be doing so: senior teachers are in a horrid position because with negligible teaching hours at times, and many of the outcomes of our work not easy to see, it can cause some resentment if one is not seen to be doing something.  

 And even when that is all done, things can still go wrong. Well, I've still got a lot to learn...

The dirtiness

"Are you telling me that floors don't get dirty in New Zealand?"

It's a good question, of course. But I think I still emphatically say that Chinese floors accumulate dust faster than any other surface known to man, woman or cockroach. As a barefooter in the house, I can accurately measure dust accumulation from a morning of wandering around the day after we've mopped the floor. Today, a seemingly reasonable floor browned the soles of my feet in barely minutes. Where does it come from? The doors are shut overnight yet by morning there is dust again. Where does it all come from, I ask?

 

Of course, I'm not that much of a clean freak when it gets down to it, but there are other sorts of hygiene that are tragically lacking in China in ethical and business practices. With the benefit of not having my name mentioned here and no company brand to be tainted, I can dare open my mouth. In the blog age, we shan't mouth off about our employers for the risk of dismissal etc. if we do. And I can attest that no potential students would have the patience to get through my content. (Even capable high-level former students on mine in New Zealand told me they struggle with the sheer content of expressive writing.) And besides they'd need software to get past the Great Firewall to see this blog. And I'd still steer potential teachers to my company anyway because it is very good for professional development.

 

My company is a western company in China. We're told from the start that it works via western rules but the more you stay the longer you see that it is more of a fusion of approaches. Some might cynically say it selectively chooses which approach benefits the company, especially its finances but also its management. I could talk about that general topic, but I'm more interested in the dirt right now, and especially practices that would be illegal or unethical in other countries. It is depressing to keep it all in. I'll work my way from minor to major, and along the way describe what to avoid in management. I should also add a little note: The evils I'll talk about aren't specifically relating to Chinese business nor am I claiming they don't exist in the West. They shouldn't happen anywhere except where they are allowed to flourish.

 

Many jobs are dictated by a fancy acronym, KPI, or Key Performance Indicator. This is intended to be an objective numerical measure of your performance. Of course, it is hard to quantify performance and so a set of KPIs might be needed to evaluate it. In an ideal world, these would be unfudgeable and would be decided by those in an objective position. Regrettably, this is not the case here. My boss's boss's pay is determined strongly by one KPI. This is one related to the number of classes and how many students are in there. Unluckily for me, the scheduling of classes falls into the ambit of my job, to schedule classes at the right time so that they are mostly filled. Because the boss of my boss's boss wants to look good, they set the target very high; the pressure is high because its a big part of his pay but the ability to add (fictitious) classes is completely at the hands of us at the lowest levels. In terms of our academic team, it was a compromise we had to make and there was no recourse to complain. Several levels up the chain are all happy about this cheating because a high number reflects well on them. There is with all likelihood complicity quite high up the level. In China, there is a poor man's version of the prisoner's dilemma. There is no virtue to honesty nor any benefit whatsoever. So no team can meet the targets without cheating. So many targets cannot be left to doubt. Of course, you get into all sorts of irony. We get told to cancel classes because of a lack of demand... yet the classes are "full". One week I taught lots of classes without ever entering the classroom...

 

My boss is about to be fired. It is a salutory story, which I won't attempt to explain in its entirety here. But he is one that has tried to make an issue out of following procedure and standards. The latest idea the company had made him quite irate, and in a way that neither I nor my fellow senior teacher could understand at first. Now we know: They introduced an appraisal system that would be linked to pay. They described each level of performance with descriptors like: "The teacher prepares his class in an appropriate way = 1. The teacher prepares his class appropriately considering potential contingencies etc." The staff member being assessed will assess themselves and then will meet the centre director and academic manager to discuss their evaluation of him. Then the combined assessment will be sent to the the area academic manager for a sign off and a monetisation of their performance, their bonus for the next year. My colleague and I thought this was an improvement on what we had, great teachers will be rewarded. My boss, however, explained how it was an unacceptable system. First of all, the descriptor is flawed. "Appropriate" is insufficient for anyone to give an objective evaluation, and so it becomes opinion. If a staff member challenges the assessment, the manager can just say that they weren't appropriate enough. In practice, an appraisal system must have concrete criteria. He illustrated it well in a directors meeting where he gave our dress code to everyone and then the standards in the new appraisal system for dress and asked everyone to assess their colleagues as if they were perfoming the appraisal. Not surprisingly, on a scale of 3, some people's scored varied from 0 to 2, demonstrating that the existing criteria would be too subjective and staff in some centres would be advantaged by lenient grading leading to "nice" centres and "mean" centres. I gave myself a zero because the standard for a 1 was to follow all the requirements in the work manual, one of which was to wear a tie. I don't. Others ignored that aspect and went for a nice mark of 2.

 

There were other issues raised (it was going nationwide of course so the area manager in the room was never going to do anything), but the one objection he raised that makes this slip from incompetence in system design to dirtiness was a specific problem my boss never broached in that meeting but later over a meal in a restaurant with us. The performance appraisal is not just verified by the area manager and ticked off. Internationally, managers just need to tick off the objectively observable strengths and weaknesses, and the area manager should agree because there is no room for doubt. But because there can't be too much excellence in the school (which would cause budgets for bonuses to be exceeded) the area manager needs to be a gatekeeper to knock scores down. Who goes up and who goes down? Opinion, again. What does each appraisal score equate to in terms of a bonus? Completely at the discretion of the area manager. Our top performing teacher stepped on the area manager's toes a few months earlier and despite what would have been a complimentary appraisal of his performance, his performance bonus was barely above the lowest possible rise. A moderately performing colleague got more than him. The system is not only biased to favoritism, it is open to use to punish those who have gone against the upper management. It becomes a tool. But nevermind, talking about salaries is a fireable offence, so punished staff member will never know, will they? And thus we get to the crux of my outgoing bosses argument: there is no reason to improve these things because with the vagueness comes their utility. An objective system cannot be a tool, but they need it to be a tool. It sounds almost dictatorial and, shall we say, communist.

 

This brings us back to the western company in China situation, and perhaps exposing what is just human nature. In Christianity and even the secular values of western nations, there is a belief that humans need to be reformed with systems. With the developing nature of the Chinese economy there haven't been the struggles yet that created strong institutions and managing principles that have taken a long time to establish in western nations. Playing with numbers and using your opinion when only reason should suffice is very human, not specifically Chinese, and we can only look to those who established the system here for their lack of nous. And the later is probably one of my central theses from my experience so far. Don't expect teachers to be able to do the jobs of managers unless you train them. The worst of human nature will come out when a system is poorly designed.

 

My bosses imminent departure was never going to be good for me. He has been something of a mentor, and still we learn daily from him, but at least I've managed to step up a lot in the last month. I've had many achievements - I stopped the area manager in her tracks with a brilliant presentation (saving my boss from a sooner dismissal, he was planning an all-out assault) and also designing a more effective way of presenting notices. He may go next week, next month or if they are patient, August. I still have a lot I'd like to learn - he is a goldmine of experience. But all the same I should also try to go it alone without the back-up he provides by simply being in the room. He believes by going, in the long term, the school might become a cleaner place.

 

I'm not so sure.

Lethal Vegetarian

I've conspired in the death of another rat on the office floor. This one was more of a struggle and required the coordination of three people for five minutes to corner and then kill the poor blighter. He and another had fallen from the ceiling and after a brief scurry around the computer lab had bolted into our office from where he'd never return.  For three minutes of the pursuit a service manager (not our staff) stoutly stayed in the corner on what would presumably be a very important call. Her bravery was shattered when it dashed to her corner crawled up her leg and into her jacket. One staff member was in tears and she hadn't even been in the office when it came in. Another felt uncomfortable just being in the office again.

 

If my boss had been on duty, he might have led us all out. I didn't feel brave enough or qualified enough to do that without some ground laid with the centre manager. He reacted quickly coming to work and getting an exterminator for the next day.

A spoonful of sugar

One aspect of Chinese culture I'd always steered well clear of is the medicine, and even their theory of looking at nutrition. It never appealed but with standard health services pretty bureaucratic and unhelpful (I'd love to have my GP here), I decided to take the chance and go to a community Chinese doctor.

 

His doctor's office was a waiting room and pharmacy of the herbal sort. Inside random patients would sit and wait their turn to sit with the doctor, who'd often converse with them while conducting examinations. His examinations were simple: take their pulse on both wrists and talk about your symptoms. Then he writes in glorious longhand your prescription and doses and sends it across the table to his apprentice. She then puts liberal amounts of sticks and leaves on some cardboard, and funnels them into standard red plastic bags for you to brew in your medicine pot in the comfort of your own home.

 

In a special pot you put each dose of the medicine into a pot and add four bowls of water, then boil it down till there is just one bowl of liquid left, usually some shade between brown and black. I've had two different prescriptions, the second outdoing the first for sheer disgust factor. It is the kind of thing you hope you can down before your retch reflex knows what it hit it and passed it by. I'm far from loving it, and far from seeing an effect but time will tell. For your information, the diagnosis was that my blood is toxic, which apparently isn't as bad as it sounds...

Coffee vent!

Deep in the ocean, amongst the coral and coelacanths, is a subterranean volcano set to erupt. Beneath it brews fire and steam, bursting through a coffee bean substratum, building pressure beneath the ground. One day this sea will be infused tan; one day we'll all wake to something other than the oceanspray.

 

No! That's not a coffee vent, this is:

 

China may never be renown for coffee. It is sometimes disconcerting how bad it can be sometimes. My sister and I once scoured a whole city to find a single cup of barely drinkable beverage that goes by the same name. That was a second tier city, though. I live in a supercity (of the sort that Auckland will never be). There is coffee, but still Starbucks is regarded highly. Occasionally one may come across a good cup but it remains an exception. Just a week ago I moaned to a friend that there really aren't any decent cafes here.

 

But then I went to Xiamen. Xiamen is one of the most important cities in Fujian province, just up the coast from Guangdong province and just opposite Taiwan province, that mysterious province that lies beyond the mists of the People's Republic of China's authority. Xiamen itself is a pleasant place but its jewel is an islet by the name of Gulang Yu. Crossing in a ferry, you find the cutest cafes on almost every corner, and many of them are redolent with well ground beans. The coffee itself is decent. In one cafe I had one of the best macchiatos I'd ever had. (A real macchiato and not the sickly sweet caramel thing that calls itself it that at Starbucks, and a cafe close to work.) The cafes themselves have the boutique kind of quirkiness, which this critic found quite delightful. Many of them specialise in a regional sweets or tea (which the province is definitely famous for) which makes the experience even better.

 

So I drink my frothy words: There are cafes here, and they are good.

 

(But, of course I could easily speak so delighfully about the tea on my trip.)

Vermin

We share the world with an abundance of other animals, whales, plankton, albatrosses and aardvarks. There are more bacteria biomass than that of all vertebrates. In NZ this abundance of life is most noticeable by birdlife and roadkill possums. In China our shared world is mostly evident by the little invaders, cockroaches and rats.

 

Cockroaches are not a daily thing. They might not even be a weekly thing in the apartment but when they're there it is horrible. Huge ugly things that can critter at a rapid click. They can fly when motivated. I used to not be able to bring myself to crush them with a slipper but usually give them something more painful, like spraying them with Mr Muscle. Now it is all on. Even the littlest one will be splattered mercilessly. I feel so barbaric.

 

Today probably raised the level of brute force to another level. It is important to know that most buildings have an ongoing rat problem. Both schools I've been in have had them in and out of the offices, sometimes they sound like they're playing bullrush in the ceiling. I used to be oblivious to it until someone pointed out the sound and now every time I hear it my ears prick. Mouse excrement is sometimes around the place but that surprisingly has not been as bad as actually meeting the guests (or are they the hosts?) when they fossick in our world. At my other school, I came back into the office to see one deposit gifts on the senior teacher's desk before looking over at me and bolting down a cord hole. And just to make you glad for the joys of hygiene, there was a day a few weeks back that the air conditioned air smelt of... urine, presumably theirs but who can be sure.

 

Recently in my new office I saw a mouse cross desks in broad daylight before going down the cord hole on my computer. I moved back quickly and it took only a fraction of a second for the office girls to read that reaction to know that it was time to stand on chairs again. Tonight, tonight, tonight, ohhhhhhh, I was sitting at my desk in the office when I heard a sound to see a rat (a rat rat, not a cute mouse) walk into our office. Pursuit was engaged. I, at one stage, had my leg kicking along a window sill to deter it. Rats are sneaky though and he dropped down to the ground and scurried out the office. Students saw it. Potential clients saw it. Fortunately for all concerned it didn't know the floor plan and ran into a dead end. It hid below cabinets before bolting out and straight under my nimble foot. Such a move cannot be done with delicacy, so when it was apparent that it's tail wasn't moving, it was obvious that I had taken him out.

 

I'm pretty OK about all these critters, to be honest, but it's sad that there can't be a way for them to be a rarity. How is it that NZ has so few? A few colleagues raise legitimate concerns. Such places are unhealthy. There is a very small chance that we'll all contract the plague. There is a distinct possibility that some of our sick days are the direct result of rats and mice. The school fortunately is not waiting for the building management to act any more and is doing its own thing. Thank goodness is all we can say.

 

The Shaky Isles

It is a week since Christchurch shook its fatal shake. Not being in NZ as something so big happens is hard. I wanted to know everything: The Herald with its videos were my breakfast. By the time I'd got on the metro, I was reading it in the Chinese media: Chinese too died in the quake. The day after it was front page news for that reason. A picture of a father watching forlornly at the TV broadcasts. His daughter, a Guangzhou native, was in the quake, she was trapped in a fallen building but had managed to text him saying she was struggling; she texted again for him to take care of himself and then her messages fell silent. She almost certainly perished. The news of the quake reverberated around the school. A large number of students could raise the name of the CTV building, which is a temporary tomb for a large number of the victims. A language school inside made it even more relevant and poignant. That tragedy made the comment that this was not just New Zealand's disaster all the more apt.

 

Though I'm far away from home, the inundation of news about it became a compulsion. I sometimes hear people repeating the sentiment that it is sick to be so interested in the images of disater. But there is something very human about this. It is rooted in many emotions: sympathy, grief, astonishment, curiosity and fear. Disasters are when again the veil of routine life is pulled violently from before our eyes and brutal realities strike us again. One cannot appreciate normality until they accept the true normalness of this tragic event.

 

The scale of it is hard to really interpret. Any shock happening or development can be hard to really grasp, and only with time can we really know. The Erebus disaster (which occurred during my lifetime) will likely still stand as New Zealand's worst disaster. But its impact on the New Zealand, beyond the lives lost, was mainly psychological. The Napier earthquake at number two can only be imagined. 256 lives disappeared in 1931 in that tremor. It is almost frightening to think that in that in what was a small town, everyone must have known people who died. With 80 years to accept the tragedy it is remembered for the positive effect of Art Deco rebuilding and land for an airport. Beyond the immediate carnage and death, one can only think about the fear after the quake. One clip was taken at Christchurch airport where people were fleeing the city. People were vowing that they would never return. But there is no place of earth where the earthquakes didn't stop shaking. Let's hope that this last series is the last and the true rebuilding can begin.

 

In Guangzhou the spring festival feeling has gone and the spring weather has come. About the time of the quake, the Guangzhou temperature became warmer than Auckland for the first time in the year. It is a world away in feeling, and creates almost a contradiction in my head.

 

Words and letters (2): You say tomato; I say tomato.

I usually spend my days switching roles between a self-studying student, to a teacher, and then occasionally a student with a teacher. One interesting recent experience has been a new role: language researcher. Just up the road (75 minutes by bus) over to the neighboring city of Qingyuan is a realm slightly removed from from my Guangzhou Cantonese world, a world of distorted sounds and fascinating words. Qingyuan dialect is a close relative of Guangzhou Cantonese and for me, an elementary learner of Cantonese, the twists and turns of it were enough to leave me dizzy when I first heard it in September last year. I've just come back from my second time in Qingyuan and this time it was for nine days. Every day was a step deeper into a language for which there was no reference but the speakers themselves. Every day there were little discoveries which speak a lot about languages in general and that is what I feel most moved to write about.

 

The language is always strongest in the older generation. Generalising and innovation might come from the youth but their parents and grandparents have the most authentic and unique speech. This also makes the learner's job a challenge. I can remember when my students in New Zealand used to complain about them not understanding their elderly host parents. The shoe was firmly on the other foot when the rapid speaking extended family in Qingyuan spoke to me. What little language I had got me through in a basic way but some people were completely beyond me. But they are the storehouse of a language. As soon as I realised some of the rules they were the easiest to spot them again and again. The elderly present another problem which fortunately for a language learner is a blessing. Accuracy is a requirement - they don't understand you either unless you use the correct tone and pronunciation. Children and younger people can guess your meaning even if you say pronounce something crudely. The older the person the more feedback you get to improve your speech.

 

A conversation after three days on my second visit:

"Why does he always start his sentence with that word 'gui'?"

"That means 'he'"

I was gobsmacked. I had had conversations with them on the preceding days but hadn't noticed that I was missing one very fundamental word. What's more I only found out on the second to last day that the same word can be used as a determiner "that". This I hope illuminates how much one does feel around in the dark. (Or how blunt my brain is.) It is deciphering and matching patterns. You can't even ask a native speaker to tell you the differences between their own dialect and another (in this case Guangzhou cantonese). You own language is not strange to you and you don't spend your days thinking of these things. As for "gui" (he), I probably misunderstood a lot of sentences about myself!

 

"What is syu-gee?"

"See-gei (Guangzhou Cantonese for "driver"). But that might only be in our three villages."

Three villages? Well, actually I've found out it is more than that but the shocking point remains that a whole variant of language can exist in a fairly small number of people. It is only because most English speakers live in colonies that have a generalised English (with accents but without dialects) that we don't notice this. Countries where the languages originate have the widest varieties of the language. England itself is a case in point with a lot of regional variance. And conversely New Zealand, too, proves the opposite. We have an indigenous English with our own vowels, our own phrases and idioms and grammar unique to our area, in a population of only four million that has been around as an English dominated state for 171 years.

 

See-gei in one place and syu-gee in another place just a stone's throw away seems astonishing. This is an element of language known as a vowel shift. Many sounds in Guangzhou pronounced "see" are pronounced in Qingyuan as "syu"; many sounds with -ei endings here are pronounced as "ee" here. English went through its own series of vowel shifts that are shown by the words that are spelt as if they should rhyme, but don't; or that aren't spelt like they should rhyme but do (e.g. love and grove; meat and meet). Grasping different vowel shifts was crucial to understanding and being understood. There is also a massive vowel merger in Qingyuan dialect too where three different sounds in Guangzhou cantonese are now just one in Qingyuan dialect. In New Zealand English we may have a merger underway. Many young people will have some trouble grouping the following sets of words into rhyming groups: here, hair, hare, hear, peer (n), pear, pare, peer (v), dare, deer, dear.

 

There are plenty of unique words and usages which escape any "rule" too. Language is not physics and language will always form its own idiom, which brings us back to that fruity vegetable, the humble tomato. There is something about its fleshy delicious texture that makes people want to name it in different ways. Taiwan mandarin says something completely different to PRC mandarin (xihongshi and fanqie respectively). And now while discussing cooking I find that Qingyuan has its own way of naming it, different to Guangzhou just down the motorway. Sometimes the lack of a rule is a rule itself.

 

The trip, if taken solely as a language investigation, was a great success. I can talk to both adults and children in two variants of Cantonese about simple topics. Cantonese is still just a push bike to the race-car of Mandarin (or the bullet train of English). But I have a bike. I can ride. And there are some interesting places I can go with it.

 

The speed of a censor

On the work computer I watched the following video (article and video uploaded on 2:15pm UK, Thursday January 27, 2011) on the work computer:

 

(if you are a little big squeamish don't watch)

http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/World-News/China-Year-Of-The-Rabbit-Cartoon-With-Political-Satire-Overtones-Censored-By-Authorities/Article/201101415913138?lpos=World_News_First_Strange_News__Article_Teaser_Region__0

 

The next day from home, again, I could still see it. It will be a nice objective measure for the speed of a censor to a foreign media site. I'll try until the time I leave. I didn't expect to be able to see it today but that perhaps shows how big the job of monitoring the internet is!

 

 

 

Life is movement

Seasons change in nature and seasons change the people. It is the turn of winter now where the oddly named Spring Festival, also known as Chinese New Year, erupts. It triggers off what some people call the greatest human migration on Earth, which incidentally happens on a yearly basis, increasing in scale with every change of the calendar.

 

The official Chinese New Year travel mania period begins 15 days before Chinese New Year and lasts about 40 days according to Wikipedia and is most easily observed in the prosperous cities which attract labour from other provinces. Guangzhou is exactly one of those cities. It has such a large proportion of its population with a hukou (their household registration) outside of the city that every day leading up to the actual festival (the coming Wednesday, by the way) and this is the population that leaves to return to their hometowns. It causes the subway system to be clogged with people carrying excessive bagging (usually camped at the doors of the train to obstruct people getting in and out), speaking in a variety of unintelligible dialects and, without wanting to be too mean about it, usually having the least cultivation or politeness.

 

For a school it is a hollowing out experience as the students become sparser and schedules become leaner. Some teachers are left with one class of substance for one nine hour day (including lunch break). From this weekend, teachers (including me) will be leaving for their vacations meaning those left behind might be the only ones "holding the fort" in the office, alone. The office's lack of heating becomes more apparent. If there is one good thing this year, it doesn't seem as cold but maybe that is just a different house at at different time and a different set of clothes. I'll have over ten consecutive days off (for the cost of three days of annual leave) and god I feel like I need a break!

 

Lessons

It is one of those transformative aspects of writing, whether it be for blogs or books, that as you write your idea is crystallised, you yourself are persuaded, and deepened is your knowledge of self and subject. This is even truer when writing is done over time. Could your view be changed as you write? The intended conclusion is somehow reversed or dramatically altered during the organisation of one's thoughts? And over time, with the turbulence of experience, could you have hardly honestly even continue on a topic?

I will seek to write this in one go in the hope it holds my view back of the week. The week under inspection really did begin on the Saturday past and I write on the Saturday of the present. It'll start with the mundane details, forgive me, of a regrettably common part of my job, an incident report:

Kelly (name changed) breezed into work at 11:08am. She was due in at 10:30am to begin her iLab helping at 11:40am, a scheduled activity that involves helping students in the computer lab. It was an hour that staff often take as their office hour, but my boss was very serious about changing this bad habit and we were generally cracking down on tardiness, so, to be consistent, I invited her to a small meeting to fill in an incident report. I'd done these routinely in my time at the school, always in a low-key way with the person concerned and always explaining that it wasn't disciplinary, but a way of improving a situation.

During the meeting, of which I can remember fairly little of the exact words but most of the substance, I explained the situation and she explained her dilemma: she lived far away and relied on a shuttle bus that worked on a half hourly schedule; she could either come 40 minutes early or 10 minutes late. I said it was good to have it in writing (i.e. the report) so I could see if the management has any solutions. She had had an incident report (never with me) before and she seemed familiar with the drill.

The next morning a sales staff member approached me asking for Kelly.  She was booked for a 10:40am placement test with a student. It was 10:35am and she hadn't arrived yet in the office. I felt it was important to know that she was going to be able to do it on time or else I'd try to get some cover for her so I called her mobile to see when she would be in the office. She picked up, I greeted her then asked about the time she'd be in.

She answered: "You can write up an incident report, I don't care."

"It's not about that. There is a student waiting and I need to know when you'll be arriving."

"Whatever. Write an incident report!" she said and hung up on me.

I was taken aback for a moment before I saw her come into the office at 10:38am and did the test. I was irked because I felt I was only doing my job and so wrote an unCC:ed e-mail clarifying that I was only inquiring about her arrival time, had never raised the idea of writing any report and would appreciate it if she minded her tone. She wrote back and said that I should mind my tone and at that point I was just confused and left it there. I thought I might explain the incident later to the management team in case I had missed something.

As I left that night though, an e-mail went to my manager; it was a forwarded copy of my previous e-mail with my sentence "Please mind your tone," font enlarged and put in red. She said that I showed no respect for her, treated her like a child and she couldn't bear working with me anymore.

Fortunately I had a nice day off and recovered from a cold oblivious to it all until the morning before work I checked my e-mail to see there was the e-mail from my boss replying her and CC:ing me and my co-Senior Teacher saying that we'd have a management meeting called "Managing your team" to address the problem. He'd already met with her in a meeting where she had cried about the series of events.

I'll halt the narrative here because taken alone, as fair as I can be, it looks like a disaster. What did I do wrong? What advice would you give me and what way forth should I take?

The meeting was great, even if hard because it was all due to the mess I had somehow made. Fortunately my boss is great, something that I was going to elaborate on in the blog that began before this episode. We discussed the practicalities of the job, breaking my case into the steps and exposing ways to improve. We agreed on a consistent approach. Both of my colleagues had experienced something similar to the above in the past. My senior teacher colleague had it much worse, if only because her manager at the time was not as adept as our present one to know how to heal the rift. The key thing is that despite only what we recognised as one misstep (calling before she was late) and an error of judgement (following up the call with a personal e-mail), the event was not a discrete event but the culmination of an invisible antagonism.

I met with Kelly later and apologised for making her feel like a child and hurting her feelings. What came then was a surprising but enlightening outpouring. She'd been continuously irritated by me in ways I was unaware of. She went further to see that many people were annoyed by it. She listed the in detail and I asked for as much as she could give me. If I enumerated them here, you might think many of them petty, and most if I were defensive I could easily explain them away as me just being me. I said that I was new to the job, I was learning and was didn't intend anyone to feel oppressed. We shook hands at the ends with a smile and that was the end. Well, I can't say that can I. How many more inconspicuous barbs in my personality will come out in the future?

My new starting point is with that raw material she gave me. My role has changed and part of that will require me changing with it. My manner has to be one that people can work with and I need to reflect on the very way I interact on a daily basis. This has been quite invigorating.

That was just one story from the week, but the theme continued in some ways. It was first of the three big professional lessons of the week. (I'll speak only of the first for fear this will be too lengthy as a blog.)  But maybe I should reverse this blog back to where my thoughts were prior to all the excitement. That was, my boss is a great manager; and his boss is a disaster.

One of the biggest reasons for the differences between them is one that will blight this school now and limit it in the future. It is simply that great teachers are moving out of the classroom and into the manager's seat, without any succession plan or training. Few can transition easily. Few are naturally talented leaders. I'm used to managing a classroom not a staffroom. I rightly need training because my personable nature and teaching skills won't stop me from running a school into the ground.

My manager, in addition to a teaching career, has worked in Exxon Mobil as a manager. He has managed before and received training in it. His model for both of us Senior Teachers is to prepare us for succession. Much of his job he isn't meant to show but he does because "if I were to get hit by a bus, who would know where anything is?" He is highly critical of the lack of succession planning and training. In a word, we're lucky to have him.

At my last school there was a fallen dragon. He was the first local (i.e. Chinese) Director of Studies in Guangzhou. He was succeeding from a high flying Director who had received a more pivotal position elsewhere. He was promised support but received none. His school failed as he couldn't manage the team, contend with a powerful (apparently, corrupt) central operations manager and then was humiliated by the regional director of the time. He was given a haven at my previous school, not a step down to senior teacher, but plunge to being an ordinary teacher. The humility of the man is that he doesn't show any of that pain and is a dedicated passionate teacher.

It is a salutary story. It could have been me. I could be me: There is a chance I'll be the sole manager at a new branch school shortly. How much I learn in the next few weeks will be crucial to my success if given the chance.

 

Forge

The two western festivals of Christmas and New Year came to this city with the commercial hustle and subway bustle expected. And as those two bumped by a cold sopping blanket also descended: winter. The semi in semi-tropical reflects the fact there is a winter here, one that last a couple of months. But with a house that is now a home, it can be warm and cosy, in atmosphere if not of physical actuality.

Learning a language is a constant reminder that the more you learn, the more you realise how little you know. I've felt like I've had a few breakthroughs on several fronts. Without direct study, I'm assimilatiing Cantonese more naturally than any other language I've learnt. But that is not saying much: I'm poor at assimilating language. I generally need to see language on paper, broken down into pieces and reformed. While I still have the desire for my new language to be served on a plate, I have felt more able to take language naturally in.

 

And for its big brother, Mandarin, I'm slowly but surely overcoming one of my big failings with it: tone combinations. The tonal nature of both languages is a significant part of my learning. It is the third dimension of the spoken language. Mandarin has five tones counting its neutral tone; Cantonese has six if we don't include three that some include. That might sound hard enough, but there is more texture to it than that. Some tones have more stress than others (a fact I only learnt with my superteacher last year). I knew way back in Taiwan that sometimes a second tone followed by a first tone was a huge difficulty, I couldn't say them correctly together. This is true for so many words including the country name Taiwan. I'd tend to change a second to a third tone when it was followed by a first. My throat couldn't cope with the change without my larynx collapsing in frustration, and when my teachers of the past had tried to help me with it, after five minutes my will and composure would collapse with it. Usually I just got the giggles. I'm rarely caught on that one anymore, which is pleasing. Now next on the list is a third followed by a second. And slowly but surely this to is becoming less of a problem. My teacher told me yesterday that there weren't any real problems, just slips.

 

The festival of the Chinese year, Spring festival will descend in less than a month and I'll be again on site to report from the cultural core: the family home. Last time I got to spend it with my friend's family and was immersed in it. For another Chinese new year my Cantonese will be proven and tested.

 

The Mountain ahead

(I believed I'd sent this three weeks ago but apparently sent it to a non-functioning address. Sorry for the delay!)

 

I came back to New Zealand as a visitor for the first time. Loose plans became firm. The food I had been denied for so long was now in huge supply at Countdown. As with my previous return from a long stay in 2000, the same things dawned on me: New Zealand is a great place; the air truly is sweeter; and …. Another thing that struck me is that I still don't really have a best friend in China , someone to chat about the nitty-gritty of life with. The absences of my life in China were more apparent in New Zealand .

 

And New Zealand blessed me with a rather brilliant run of weather, sending areas into drought. I could tramp in ideal conditions, swim at the beach twice and drive without any meteorological oddities. Going back, there was a seamless transition between the weather in Auckland last Friday, Hong Kong on Saturday and Guangzhou , as if the weather gods had decided to smooth the way.

 

New Zealand had barely changed. As I walked up Mt Eden road the sight almost merged with the memory of walking there before I left. A few restaurants had changed hands; cafes renamed; but it would be a fairly difficult game to "Find ten differences". The biggest and most pleasant change was the roading. The Taupo bypass has been completed; the Hobsonville bypass is half-done; the work on the airport motorway seems nearly finished; and the diabolical Manukau on/off ramps are now in fiendish form, sending me off in wrong directions twice.

 

Guangzhou, likewise, had changed about the same amount in the month I had been away. My return to the People's Republic featured one of the more extraordinary aspects of China 's information control system and one of my more inadvertently stupid acts. On the way to New Zealand , I wanted to buy a certain book which is banned in the People's Republic but available in Hong Kong . I couldn't find it then but on the way back into China I spotted it in an airport bookstore, Page One, and seized it (for the not cheap price of HK$150, NZ$30). I read the first chapter in Hong Kong while waiting for the train and then put it in one of my three items of baggage. On the train I didn't touch it, reading other books. Once I had disembarked I went through customs and then had my bags scanned by one of those big machines I assumed could only pick up knives, guns, bombs and organic matter. They came out the other end but as I picked up my bags, an official gestured at me from behind a desk.. I went over and he grabbed the exact bag carrying the book and without hesitation grabbed the Page One bag which contained it. He pulled the book out and flicked through the pages. "Can you speak Chinese?" he asked. I answered in the affirmative. (In retrospect, this could be either a curious question for a foreigner carrying a Chinese book, or a more probing question intended to find who I was bringing it for.) He asked and looked at my passport. He just looked at me with an almost-grin and said: "You can't bring this book into China ." I clarified with him innocently and he shook his head. He gave back my passport to me before taking the book away to the side. I stood there for a moment and I waited for a moment thinking that he hadn't told me to go, but moments later with a slightly humored wave he sent me along to the next step.

 

I was quite unsettled and astonished but then technology must be serving the surveillance society well. There may have been something in the book (perhaps a requirement for China to the Hong Kong publishers) to make the book detectable; or perhaps it is even more high-tech and can sense the book cover; or perhaps every book has a detectable set of dimensions and any book matching any of several banned books would be pulled up. Either way, I was happy to just have the book confiscated and nothing more (I think). It boggles the mind and is a salutary warning: I'd carried a certain banned book around China on my first trip. It is not something that will be possible again.

 

And so I'm full circle, back to where I was a year ago, seizing an apartment in November for the year ahead. My objectives are so much more clearer and potential outcomes all the more tangible and in reach. It is certainly an interesting time to be me.

 

Watershed 盛筵必散

The day passed, but I was only tired. The banquet finished, and all the people departed. I am no longer a teacher at my old centre, but from today a senior teacher in a new school. Emotionally, there is little feeling of loss yet. I was smiling whenever I told my students, often upset, about my imminent departure. Platitudes flowed and downcast faces were the gauntlet I walked, out the door and onto sidewalk. Will I miss them when I'm greeted without that adoration nor the same veneration in my new school?

The teacher-student bond is a special one; but only when you realise that a teacher is not a mere instructor. A teacher packages learning into every interaction: both academic and beyond. An instructor follows a plan and delivers "lessons". And I think I'm increasingly more able to be a teacher, but only perhaps because I can teach and model how one should be a student. Being a student is not a passive or receptive role, and to see it as any other is a mistake. To see being a teacher as being a solid agent of change is a mistake too: every case is unique and requires you to adapt to the new condition; the human condition is not one that can be taught with any one approach. And that the most important teaching often doesn't happen in the classroom, but rather when sitting down with the student to go deeper into their specific needs and issues.

As I exited I had a few slips of paper to give my contact to a few, a very few. Vic didn't, though he wanted to keep touch – I might contact him indirectly and I know that I can. Oscar wanted it, but I thought I'd give it to her later. Emil got it; he was a Filipino, a very serious student of high level and though sullen, possibly recently divorced, was most emotional when learning English. Rainbow would have given a kidney for it, seriously, and even said that I was the best teacher she'd ever had, seriously apparently ; but didn't get it. Tea got it but you could get more sincere than Tea. I found numerous ways to avoid giving any contact details to the highly emotional Ling; she'd be too much. Question Kevin got it despite being a nuisance at the best of times; he got it on virtue of his sheer desire to learn. And so for some it may be the last time they see me while others, virtue of my reasons or my whim, may keep contact.

And if I go back just over ten days, I can remember the question: "Would you like to end here on the 24^th?" I answered in the affirmative, and realised later that would mean about 10 days before I leave, only 8 days of which were in the office, three of which were dominated by mentoring three teachers, one of which was swallowed by meetings; another was taken up with a referral event, and what was left were a load of lessons and a lot of garden-variety tiredness. At least my desk is clear.

Tomorrow though I will enter the door at my new centre, make myself a cup of coffee as a senior teacher, shake some hands and get down to preparing a Travel Club lesson.

 

The sound and sight of silence 此地无银三百两

"The Japanese foreign minister begins to outline how they'd be negotiating with China over the sovereignty of a disputed island when-"

 

PICTURE OF THE FAREWELLING PINE ON THE YELLOW MOUNTAIN

 

A stock standard Hong Kong advertisement appears suddenly on Chinese TV: It's a cantonese advertisement educating the populus about the Hong Kong education system, which is a silly choice since it is not a part of the life of virtually any of the mainland citizenry.

 

The normal service of the morning news program resumes: "And the bullet fired into the Chinese embassy in Japan is being investigated. It is believed to be a threat relating to the incident which inflamed the whole situation when the Japanese navy arrested a Chinese captain for sailing near the isla-"

 

PICTURE OF THE FAREWELLING PINE ON THE YELLOW MOUNTAIN

 

Another stock standard advertisement appears. This one is a nicer one: A rather pretty, exuberant lady charges around picturesque Hong Kong scenes swearing her love upon the mountains and the sea, "We'll be together for a life, for an era!" Who is she declaring to? Her teeth! Great concept. The ad also ends prematurely as the ad is cut before we learn how to preserve the relationship with our teeth till death you shan't part when again normal service resumes again:

 

(A map showing the position of the island): "And on this map the island still carries its original Chinese name."

 

Such is the quality of a news broadcast on a channel broadcast from Hong Kong into Mainland China. It is one of my favourite channels with the best presenters and the best content. It is permitted freedom to broadcast what it likes but the feed into China is censored as above. The picture of the farewelling pine (on a finer day than the picture above) could be symbolic of the freedoms long since farewelled (actually in mainland China if I think of a longer time frame of history, I'm wondering if there were ever an era that had any absolute freedom of information and media preceding the current powers). I remember first hearing about this pine when I arrived in post-SARS China in 2003/2004 and bumped into some ex-pat teachers who were travelling. They recounted the stories of the pine when they were trying to find out anything about the worrying spread of the disease.

 

I'm not sure what that does to a local viewer psychologically. In my current events class the topic of the island does come up and most (as usual) will say what the powers that be would expect them to say. I watch it and think that if I were a chinese person I would suspect that "what isn't shown" on a channel unbound by ideology must be something rather devastating to that perspective, and probably doubt it.

 

Students here are fairly free with their views. You'll hear views against the government quite freely and complaints about certain policies. But on some issues, often points of patriotism or national pride, most people will toe the line. And perhaps there is no voices of skepticism heard.

 

How to Navigate Chinese Streets

After my 11 months of Chinese life, I have learnt many of the basic skills of moving from place to place in China and wish to share them with my treasured readers.

 

1. Don't look where you're going.

 

Consideration will drive you mad here. In New Zealand, people have a luxury in considering giving space to others, yielding the footpath to others. But increase the number of people and the calculations of consideration suddenly become complicated. Chinese pedestrians generally don't pay attention into whom they're about to be walking. They'll have an absorbing conversation with their friends as they stroll not looking forward at all. It is like that sure-fire way of winning that classic car game, Chicken: unscrew your steering wheel and throw it out the window. If you show that you are not changing course (and can't), whoever is the most aware will be the one to change course. If you are not going to change course you won't need to. Both people and traffic moves like a river here, with swirling eddies, white water, torrents and all. Of course people will bump into others which brings us to the next guideline.

 

2. Don't worry, be apathetic now!

 

Zen parable: You're in a boat in a lake relaxing when suddenly you notice a person cruising a boat towards you causing you to jump up and take evasive action. How would you react to them? Now imagine the same situation except an unmanned boat. How would you react? The point of the parable is that often we react to unintentional and incidental accidents differently. It is true in NZ. If someone were walking down the footpath with an umbrella (though under shelter) moving it side to side, spiking people with the prongs, others would curse them. But if a tree moved side to side and spiked them with its branches they'd be less upset and get over it quickly. In China though, regardless if it is the most inconsiderate pedestrian behaviour or reckless driving, most others will treat it as completely incidental, an unmanned boat, and most certainly nothing to get upset about.

 

I wish it were about Zen enlightenment. It is actually about a very low expectation of how other people will consider others. Road rage is left for actual accidents and not near misses. There isn't enough energy for the latter.

 

3. Cars give way to people; people give way to bicycles; and bicycles give way to cars

 

Nuff said. People don't mind potentially ending their lives walking in front of cars but be careful of the bicycles. They move like lightning and they know they have the right of way. Get out! I've almost been nailed by bicycles twice. I was walking straight. It was them who gave me the dirty look.

 

4. There's always room...

 

Subways and buses actually can fit a million people, if they are willing. Elevators are the same. Don't worry if the elevator just beeped overweight and the doors aren't shutting and haven't shut for a minute: the people waiting will wait and at some stage the elevator will descend.

 

5. ...and once you're on, you shall stop.

 

You were at the front of the queue of about fifty and proudly got onto the subway carriage with only two people sneaking in front of you. Stop in the doorway. This is important as if you go too deeply into the carriage, you'll have some pushing to do to get off. I know what you're going to say: What about the forty-eight people behind you? Well, if they want on they'll either push you further in or move around you. Either way, that is their choice.

 

6. Speed and urgency is all about scarcity.

 

Give a random set of Guangzhou citizens the simple task of going from A to B on a footpath, they'd take all the time in the world in far from straight lines.  Give the same set a subway station to get from A to B and the whole thing becomes about competition. Get onto the train! Don't queue. Push! Get a seat! Suddenly old ladies put their heads down. Parents send their children ahead ducking and weaving to get ahead of people so they can follow.  According to a friend, this is drilled in by parents and grandparents from a young age. In the most populous country if you yield to one you yield to all. And then you come last.

 

I've got a feeling 秋意

Mid-Autumn Festival appropriately fell on the first real cool sway of the year. A passing typhoon (killing scores, villages inundated etc.) brought a refreshing breeze and a delightful temperature drop: people started to wear pants instead of shorts; men refrained from flaunting their uncovered paunches. The fringe clouds of the storm blotted out the moon for most of Guangdong for the festival evening - it is an evening when we are meant to enjoy viewing the moon with our friends and family. I enjoyed it with the thought that the summer, which I had feared before coming to China, had now mostly passed. And it is possible to miss the heat - it is 29 degrees now; will I freeze in the New Zealand spring? I'll soon finish my eleventh month in China.

 

Birthday season also passed and it was the first time I haven't done it with some form of party in many a blue moon. I'd have to go back to my birthday just after returning from Taiwan in 2000 to remember another year without a party. There is a sense of decadeness about it all. I went to mainland China for the first time in August/September 2000. As I may have retold on this blog, Guangzhou was the least impressive of all the places I visited then. I feel the changes both in me, the city and the country.

 

What can I remember? I can remember talking our way (my classmate and I) into many rather shady hotels; some were wonderfully priced decent places. I still remember the one in Yangshuo fondly. Shanghai was shabby. Xi'an felt lavish, though we were both with iffy bellies by then. Despite the niceness of the room, I remember there was a communal unwalled shower for the whole floor. I remember chatting to a fellow traveller there. Nice conversationalist. I remember the room on the top of Mount Tai and the wake-up to see the sun-rise. I remember the toilet and restaurant there too. (Toilets were quite memorable back then - not so much now.) Even though it was an unintended destination, I remember dusk at Liuzhou and the street where I ate sparrow rice porridge. I remember that it was my first sight of a still current phenomenon: men, often disabled in some way, writing long poems in chalk on the footpaths and streets recounting their lonely predicament, with a can for a coin or two. I remember men sitting on the side of the road selling peanuts (a scene still today) in Guangzhou. I feel rather privileged to have a degree of scale in the development of China. Of course, I have had association with others who were here even before the 80s, but they still provide a perspective and an understanding.

 

What of me? My ideals have changed somewhat, and my zeal for contrarianism has ebbed. At 20 I thought my views were extraordinary. Of course those views have been balanced by the conservatism of middling age. It may have taken ten years to cool off the heat of my feeling of being different and relax into being what I am, an ordinary person with a belief of commonality with everyone despite being quite different in some respects. Everyone is different: does it take this long to realise that one's own distance from others is a rather mundane fact of life? In the face of China the first time round, I wasn't shaken, but marginally stirred. I felt in my element even though, and this is a fact that hasn't changed.

 

So the wind has changed and I must plot a course for myself from this age to the next. I have to find whether this is the season for me to progress or hold. It should be interesting.

 

English Principles

The old joke goes: Those that can, do. Those that can't, teach. It is quite unfair as a blanket statement but of course there is an element of truth to it, and moreso in ESOL teaching: Those that can't, teach English in Asia! (It is your birthright! Shitloads of money!) Many of those over here are a form of economic refugee; their original profession was hit by the recession and so moved to a place where they could economically "winter". But they aren't necessarily teacher material either by temperament or ability. Thus a new truism forms: Those that teach, do; those that can't, entertain; those that can't entertain, draw complaints; those that draw complaints, leave at the end of their one-year contracts; and if they happen to be male and single, prey you may on the nubile female "student body".

 

My school chain, one that is seen as a premium product, treats all staff like dedicated teachers. This is, of course, is a good policy. If you treat someone as a professional, they'll tend to lift to that level. But all schools face the uncomfortable end of the labour supply sword, and it is even worse when you try to be a premium product. The more you screen out undesirables or the unqualified, the fewer your teachers, the smaller your capacity to offer your service, and the smaller your profit. In this market, you can't be too picky.

 

I've had two colleagues go recently. Both were not necessarily teachers of nature or ability: both entertained, both were irked by the willingness of management to extend "ideas" upon what in many schools is a simple job. These ideas, some good, some suspect, were often the whims of new managers or a product of an ideology. So our school, stretched as we are, lost both entertainers. The former was expected to leave (he wanted to study and he was at the end of his contract) but the latter was a new recruit who had a fluttery mind - he saw another job with more money and spread his wings. We're still contemplating whether he is a loss to the school. In the last month of his short stay he was already dating one student (some of it during the time he was living with his previous girlfriend) and by the end of his contract had moved onto another.

 

All this is the background to my extended stay in my first centre. I can't leave until I have a replacement and they've been very picky when recruiting local teachers, and they accept any international teacher who fulfils formal criteria, but who are increasingly difficult to lure over.

 

Never trust a eunuch

The Dowager Empress thus sent an imperial order for her son, He Jin, the de facto ruler of the Empire. Receiving it, he prepared to leave for the palace when the Imperial Clerk warned him: "The eunuchs are surely behind this order from the Empress, so you can't possibly follow it. If you do, there'll certainly be disaster."  He Jin calmly replied that there couldn't possibly be any danger in responding to a request by his mother, the Dowager Empress.

Cao Cao advised: "Only go into the palace once the eunuchs have come out."

He Jin laughed and said, "This is the advice of a child. I hold the power over the whole world, what could the eunuchs possibly dare do?" Yuan Shao advised that if He Jin had to go, then they'd go with armoured troops and thus Yuan Shao and Cao Cao chose five hundred troops to accompany He Jin and nominated Yuan Shao's son, Yuan Shu to lead them.

 

Yuan Shu suited himself head to toe in armour and arranged the troops before the outer green gates of the Forbidden City. Yuan Shao and Cao Cao personally then lead He Jin before the Palace of Lasting Happiness.  There the officials of the Inner Bureau said that the Empress had particularly specified to allow only the Grand General, He Jin. Therefore Cao Cao and Yuan Shao were held back at the palace door, while He Jin confidentally strode into the palace.

 

At the Gate of Great Virtue he was met by the eunuchs Zhang Rang and Duan Gui, and then others quickly surrounded He Jin. They blamed him in angry voices: "What crime had Empress Dong done for you to posion her? And then at the time of her funeral for you to feign sickness so not to attend. You are just the spawn of a butcher, yet it was us who raised your family to the palace and gave you honour and wealth. And in response you want to kill us.  You say we are debased, but who is the cleaner?" He Jin panicked and looked for a way out but the palace gate had closed. Just then fifty soldiers came out from their hiding place and sliced He Jin into two pieces...

 

Thus went another character to the grave in Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a classic Chinese novel written in the 14th century, creating a semihistorical narrative around the turbulent Three Kingdom period (250CE -  300CE). I'm rather enamoured by it, although I must proudly state in advance that I'm relieved that I can actually read it at all. I've always had a fascination with classical chinese with several of the philosophy books I love (written over 2000 years ago) written in it. But writing and language develops. The language of 2000 years ago is harder to read than that of 700 years ago and most parts of this classic are readable without assistance; only in some small parts do I need character by character reference to retain my grasp. I bought a copy while I was sick hoping just experience it. I opened to the first page and found I had just enough knowledge to deal with the first page, and with a little bit of study of the common words I found that I could read quite swifty.

 

And it has to be said that it is rip-roaring yarn. I'm benefitted a lot though by the fact that I don't know much about it. Every page brings its own surprises. I don't know what will happen next. There are computer games and table-top card game based on it. The youth are still fascinated by it, although it must be said that more have seen the cartoons and games of it than those that have read the original. The theme for the week at school two weeks ago was Literature so I thought I'd stealthily measure how much an average class had read. I talked about famous literature and brought up the English names of the four great Chinese classic novels, then got the class to act out a scene in them.

 

There is a culture gap too when reading these - the culture of the past is far different from that of the present. I couldn't understand one part of the book where there was a sorcerer was holding a whole army off by conjuring a black qi from the sky. One General strategy is spelt out here: 

 

"He's using magic! Tomorrow I can slaughter some pigs, goats and dogs for their blood. Then I'll order some soldiers to hide on the cliff top. When the rebels come we can spray it upon them from above, and then it will counteract their magic."

 

Apparently pouring blood from a high place counteracts that sort of black magic - not surprisingly this method worked a treat. And here is a section for the feminists:

 

 Zhang Fei had raised his sword to cut his own throat when Xuande ran forward to stop him, grabbing his sword and throwing it to floor: "The Ancients said: One's brothers were like limbs and one's wives and children were like clothes. If the clothes break, they can be mended. If your limbs are cut off, how could you go on?' We made a pledge of honour in the Peach Garden, that though we don't seek to be born together, we'd want to die together. Though I've lost my castle and family, how can we end here only halfway though our adventure? Why would you, my dearest brother, seek to end his life over a momentary lapse?"

 

This band of blood brothers so far are almost comic relief especially the character that tried to kill himself, who seems to have temper/alcohol/personality issues. His momentary lapse was not listening to his blood brothers suggestions of staying off the booze while he was the one responsible for looking after their walled city; naturally on the very first night with this heavy duty he got plastered and forced other officers to get similarly wasted, threatened violence on those who didn't drink, and then in his drunkenness whipped the father-in-law of a rather aggressive neighbouring General fifty times. This neighbouring General upon hearing of this disgrace launched an assault on their city taking control of it. Very momentary, indeed, this lapse. The gentleman dispensing the advice in the quote, Liu Xuande also known as Liu Bei, is one of the three famous characters from the Three Kingdoms and frankly seems rather simple-minded though very diligent in his application of duty and honour.

 

With vivid battles raging on in the pages, my quagmiraculous promotion seems rather fictional. Having been told that this was the week for the move, I was told two weeks ago that alas my replacement has been diverted to a centre in more immediate need. That was before one of our newly arrived international teachers was lured by more money in Korea and resigned last week, not to mention the other internal promotion in our office that is waiting to move. Effectively there is only one international teacher who isn't moving anywhere and it will be those over whom the HR eunuchs have control (i.e. internal promotions) that will have to stay put till they find three teachers to fill the short fall. At this point it seems like September when I'll be moving but it's really not best to say. This is strangely reminiscent of a certain visa I waited for last year.

 

Pin-drop

On Sunday 25 July, in excess of a thousand people gathered in front of the Ocean Oil building in the prosperous Jiangnan Xi shopping area, Guangzhou. They were there to protest the proposal to increase the use of Mandarin being used on Guangzhou TV during prime-time. The outrage by locals at the proposal had been widely felt, especially in Haizhu district where the Cantonese population is a vast majority. The fear is that it will be the thin edge of the wedge that will eventually take Cantonese from television and radio.

 

The demonstration continued from 4:30pm well into the evening, with police observing and occasionally moving to free passage for pedestrians. On one occasion the crowd chanted: "Let him go! Let him go!" indicating that perhaps there was an arrest. On the whole there were no signs of violence. At about 7pm when this reporter went down stairs, he saw with his own eyes the riot police kitted up in their gear and assembling in front of the building. From a distance, the crowd appeared to be peaceful, with a few people inspired to say provocative comments, which would create roar in the crowd, which sent all the students in the language school to the windows to see "what happened".

 

The Cantonese dialect, leveraging off the cultural engine of Hong Kong, has had a privileged status among dialects. It is not common that TV channels and radio statoins have dialect as their main language, but in Guangzhou it is. For many people, there is a palpable pride in the Cantonese dialect. Often shop assistants will use Cantonese with you even if you speak to them in Mandarin. Some people neglect their ability in Mandarin to that extent too. It is true that there are more and more migrants from other provinces in Guangzhou and Mandarin is now easily heard in all areas of Guangzhou; the riposte of course is that they have come into a Cantonese city and should learn the language of the land. 

 

I went home that night and turned on Guangzhou TV and didn't hear a peep about the demonstration. I scanned the papers the following morning and the morning after to find not a mention. After the people scattered, the ripples in the media were negligible. Apparently CCTV reported that there was a gathering to celebrate 110 days till the Asian Games. Again China has shown that there is a latitude in Freedom of Expresson, but the lack of media freedom makes it a relatively meaningless act. On the internet it took a long time to find any sites that could be read from China about the event. Eventually I found the following:

 

http://china.globaltimes.cn/society/2010-07/555743.html (English)

http://www.oushinet.net/172-2795-80944.xhtml (Chinese)

That being said, this blog too, isn't accessible from China...

 

The drip

Time has been rather uneven over the last month, with the hi(gh)s and byes of my whirlwind trip to the Philippines and then being brought down my a throat infection whose stay has already exceeded ten days.

 

At its worse, the infection, which started out as a cluster of nasty ulcers, stopped me from speaking altogether, but fortunately my colleagues ably covered for me. Yesterday, after days of thinking it was getting better, I slipped into a fever. I only realised it was a fever for the unexplainable nausea that slowly enveloped me while I was calling home. My third trip to the doctor gave me another experience with a doctor scoffing at the previous medical advice I'd received: "What? They gave you solely Chinese medicine to deal with that?" But that is going to the expected course of the public health over here: I went to one hospital on the second night of it got a diagnosis (tonsilitis) and a pile of medicine (including a powerful antibiotic); got worse and went to a different hospital and got a different diagnosis (ulcers, the previous doctor didn't look far enough) and got a pile of pills, all of Chinese medicine. Almost a week passed with my ability to speak returning and I could go back to work. But yesterday all pretensions of a return to health were blown away. My throat wound had started suppurating (a word I wish not to define in layman's terms, click on the link), obviously infected so badly it triggered a fever. I had a IV drip attached to my hand last night and the fever vanished; I had another drip today for good measure; and still with a disgusting throat I at least am starting to feel a bit more with it, and under the right conditions can talk at ease.

 

Fortunately, my days haven't all been bad: The Philippines was a wonderful break to get to see my little sisters in all their chubby, chundering (they got me once) and crawling glory. They were worlds apart from the tiny, premature babies I knew before I left. My little brother was still a handful but it was good to play with him again. I also got to know some of my "Philippines whanau". I got to swim: something that is so distant or difficult in China. I regret only that a lack of knowledge about how close the airport was causing me to hastily leave without being able to say goodbye to everyone properly.

 

The week prior to my departure was also a curious thing. I'd applied for a higher position in early June and heard nothing right up the week before my flight. Then on the Monday I receive an e-mail, which I didn't have to acknowledge the receipt of, saying when the interview was (the Thursday) and then I was to fly the next day. The e-mail interview offer surprised me: if they'd sent that on the Friday saying the interview was on Monday or Tuesday I wouldn't have been any the wiser that I'd completely missed an interview! (I shan't make any comments about my thoughts on any communication issues that my bosses may or may not have.) I was pretty relaxed about the interview. I had the favourable wind of being the National Academic Star the previous month and very positive support from the boss. When the list of the other applicants came out there was more reason to be confident, I was one of only three. The school I was applying to already had a "local" senior teacher (local meaning Chinese), and one of the applicants similarly was "local" (there was reason in managing a large staff to have a balance of local and international). The other applicant is an interesting chap. He is seemingly able but anyone who I mentioned him to told me there was nothing to worry about, scratching more deeply, apparently he had a history of making female staff members feel awkward around him. This being all said, the interview wasn't a walk in the park and I was put over the coals on a theoretical question. I walked away pretty confident and fortunately on the bus to the airport, my boss texted me: "Congratulations daniel on ur position ill be sorry to lose you." Of course, that was the first I heard of it but apparently it was in motion and there was an offer waiting for me in my inbox on my return.

 

There has been time for theorising and learning too in this time, but I might have to leave it to another time.

 

Words and letters (1)

Language is an odd beast. Learning them to a decent level and teaching them to a high level grants you something on an insight into the soul of each tongue, not to mention the mechanics. Sometimes students will get exasperated about the idiosyncrasies of English, not noticing the tics of their own. When one is only wrapped up in one language it is easy to overlook some of the obvious lessons of language:

 

"The North Koreans call Jin Zhengri the General," a student explained on one day.

"Kim Jong-il," I correct saying the name of the dictator in anglicised Korean, which is quite close the original.

The student looks at me strangely so I elaborated: "You need to call him: Kim Jong-il, that's his Korean name."

The student is perplexed: "Who?"

"The name of the leader of North Korea is Kim Jong-il. What you said was his Chinese name. He has a Korean name. He is Korean," I say, almost regretting immediately being impatient.

"Jin Zhongri is the General of North Korea."

"He might be in Chinese but no-one else will understand you saying that."

 

That particular lesson of course might seem particular to Chinese - Japanese and Korean names can be pronounced in Chinese with reference to the characters that all three languages share (although the sound may differ). But this affects English too in a way. We have ways for describing foreign names and things. Placenames like Florence, Serville and Vienna differ a lot in pronunciation from how they actually are pronounced.

 

It works in reverse too. "Do you know what tofu is?" I ask, a shake of the head is the only response. I explain in English the appearance and characteristics of this obiquitous Chinese product. Often, but not always, they will gasp: "Ohhhhh, doufu."

"In English we call it tofu; that is the Japanese pronunciation." Students are often perplexed why English would take the Japanese pronunciation for a Chinese thing. We also say Zen (Japanese) and not Chan (the Chinese pronunciation of the same term). I assume this is because they've historically been more open and developed than China. When you trade, your terms are taken on board. And English has always traded not just goods but words. We generally take the foreign word and not find the need to make our own. We call pasta pasta; Chinese call it all "Yidali Mian" (Italian "noodles"). But then occasionally English will use a very general term for a lot of specific foreign terms or things, dumpling being the obvious example (I will argue with speaker here saying regarding many different Chinese foods saying: "We call them all dumplings," only to be told by the student that dumplings are jiaozi (a small parcel of stuffing wrapped in a skin of pasta) - look up dumpling on Wikipedia if you're not sure).

 

Chinese generally will make its own terms for things, leaving transliteration for foreign names and (some) places. But that means that foreign words that are transliterated are often overlooked. A student didn't believe me that Luoji (the Chinese term for logic) had come from English. Not even when I asked him to tell me the meaning of Luo and Ji did he concede. The local staff are often driven nuts by students who discovering an English word has a transliteration in Chinese use only the transliteration. Sample situation:

 

"Teacher, what is 'store'?" (this is usually asked in Chinese)

"A store is a shop." Even though they know what a shop is, many students don't accept this explanation.

"A store is a place that sells things."

"A store is like seven-eleven. It sells things."

Then the student, should they be Cantonese, will often gleefully realised: "Oh: See-door." (the meaning for see-door, the cantonese transliteration of store, is a little different, implying a small grocery store). The teacher nods but says: "Store". But then the student feeling that the word is the same, uses it rather than listening to the actual English pronunciation. This sets in motion a chain reaction leading to the explosive breakdown of the teacher in question.

 

It is easy to pick on students and think they're not that sharp. But everyone has these moments. I still have some "sticky" misunderstandings of grammar and expression in my Chinese. Often I say them again and again. And I remember that no matter how many times I corrected my Chinese-learning friends that Beijing is pronounced with a hard J, they still went back to the anglicised Beijjjjing.

 

"You're indispensible to this school, Daniel." So spoke Hanson, an elementary student with a penchant for learning a word and then using it on everyone. The sentiment was strangely timed: I was about to head back to the office to print off a few more documents to prepare for my interview at another school.

"Thank you, Hanson. You're so kind." The interview, early tomorrow morning, has hardly rippled me yet. But it may lurk in my dreams tonight. I'll be sitting before three interviewers, all whom I expect to give me a testing time. And so they should if I were an interviewer, I'd insist on troubling applicants so much that they'd all thought they'd failed, just so that we can know that there was some questions that pushed them to the exact lines of what they think they are and what they might in fact be. I'm sometimes scared about the discrepancy between what I think I am and what I really am.

If it comes to be that I leave my school, I'll be sad and I might not be the only one. Perhaps one of the keys to my motivation to teaching is that I believe that I subconsciously buy into the progress of all of my students. It makes it easy to spend time with them when you are sometimes just as dedicated to their progress as they are. But at the same time, I have this connection with between fifty to one hundred students; to leave them feels like leaving the job undone and letting them down at the same time. I'm taking some solace in the fact that several of the longer term students with whom I've established a great teaching rapport are nearing the ends of their contracts too.

The summer rains descended on Southern China, drowning many and cleansing the land. In the cities though, it was just a damp period of weeks: washing doesn't dry; you can enjoy days without sweating yourself silly before one even goes through the front door in the morning and; mosquitoes feed. Of course, there is still the daily maximum near 30 degrees but at least the temperature can drop to 25. Needless to say, that relief has ended and we're back in the sauna again.

I'm also two days away from being in the Philippines. This is after a lightning whip around Zhuhai and Macau two weeks ago. Life is not going to let up anytime soon.