Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts

Friday, July 8, 2011

The REAL Highlight of My Nanjing Experience

We spent four full days in Nanjing and, for me, being there was the best part of my China experience.  We stayed long enough to meet and interact multiple times with some very nice people and we did very little tourist stuff; we had classroom time learning more Chinese language and some practical knowledge and experiences (translation:  "we shopped") and we had a series of interesting lectures from professors at the Nanjing Normal University.  I will have more to say about the days we spent in Nanjing, but I have to get the peak experience out there to the world first.  I am so eager to tell this story that I am skipping the day spent in Suzhou, but--not to worry--I will go back to that.

It wasn't a particularly interesting day (Wednesday, June 8) till we went on a trip to the other campus of Nanjing Normal.  It is far from the original, old campus (the school is older than Pace, by the way), and seemingly way out of town, but the way things work around here, it's probably still in town, just doesn't seem like it. So this campus was built about ten years ago and it is very spread out with all shiny, modern buildings.  Very impressive.  We met up there with some of the same people we seem to see everywhere and a few new ones.  First, we had a meeting, quite formal and structured (I've lost count of how many of these we have sat through). Then we were driven to the library, which has a cafe downstairs, so we (now a subset, i.e., just the visitors and a couple of our entourage members, including my personal favorite and new friend, Mr. Wu). Then we were driven to another building and had another big banquet with all the same people from our previous meeting. I got to sit by Mr. Wu again and he and I talked about literature, teaching and summer vacations.He is going fishing, just so you know.

We had numerous dishes, including a surprise birthday cake for Deborah, and a soup with some very strange stuff in it (the one thing I thought I could identify looked like a chicken gizzard)(I only tasted the broth, yuck), and--the bonus round--what turned out to be fried chicken "paws," as Adelia delicately called them. I didn't know what they were, so crunched through one and ate it, then crunched another and spit it out (Mr. Wu was away toasting someone at that moment, fortunately). Tried another and spit it out too. I thought perhaps the first one was an aberration, but it turns out they were all like that. On purpose.

Then the party was over and two of our Pace people (I am protecting your identities) decided to go for a foot massage at some place back downtown that an incredibly gorgeous PPMG staff person recommended and I was invited to go with them. You are surprised I said ok, right? Obviously this is a trip where I have stepped way outside my comfort zone! And, to be honest, I have not regretted that even one time.  Even with the chicken paws and the donkey.

Well, I can't begin to tell you what a weird experience this was. The PPMG rep (we had all met Isabelle at Pace before) took us to the hotel (not one we were staying at) and made the arrangements. Then she left and we fumbled through the rest of it with people who spoke not one word of English. And it's not like we've learned a helpful vocabulary for, say, foot and head massages, which is what we all had. We were all required to take showers first, and the charge for the showers was greater than the charge for the additional services, so we see how they turn some profit.  None of us knew the proper, shall we say, protocol for dressing and undressing in a Chinese spa, so we just got on with it however we could.  I, for one thing, ended up with both my towel and my abandoned clothing getting wet from my shower.  Oh, and we had lockers to deal with, but only a staff person had the key, so I can't begin to tell you the embarrassing number of  times I had to call her back, since I was pretty disorganized.  I don't exactly have my own routine for Mandarin Massage established. 

We finished our showers at all different times so had to be led individually through multiple turns down hallways lit for perpetual twilight.  It was eerie  because there were so many doorways off the hallways but I could get no sense of whether there were people behind all the doors, or even some of them. Was I being kidnapped? Had we been separated and assigned to different interrogators?

The foot massage was very pleasant.  Once we were situated in our room that had several BIG comfy chairs in it, these young women dressed like 15-year-old private-school girls came in and took our feet in hand(s). After they determined that we did not want to watch tv, they got to work, but soon set up an incessant chatter. That part was not relaxing but since we couldn't understand a single word, it was sort of like Muzak.

When they were finished, the head massage woman came in and was shocked to find three heads, rather than the one she had been informed needed massaging. She was peeved about this, I would surmise.  I went last so had time to examine her performance by using my peripheral vision. Anticipation had plenty of time to build.

So, turns out the head massage is done by this woman who sits behind you in the big massage chair.  She wears a long, split skirt and she hikes it up and "mounts" (so to speak) behind you.  Let's just say that by the time this was over, I figured that she and I were--at the very least--going steady, if not planning the size of the family we want to have together. I was, literally, in a sweat and she was too, because at one point she paused in the massage and heaved a big, hot sigh. We were making a lot of sweat between us.  Man oh man. I opened my eyes at the end (closing them was part of my unsuccessful relaxation attempt) and--uh oh!--my friends were gone and it was just this head-massager with me in this dark room.  And I wasn't sure at this point that I had given her the kind of encouragement that would signal that we had bonded in a special way. And I had forgotten to drop breadcrumbs in the hallway so I could find my way back.  She led me out the door of our twilit room into the twilit hallway around the many corners and did deliver me safely. She did not ask me for my phone number or email address so we could touch base later or plan whose family to visit over the holidays.

We had a good laugh about all of this in the cab.  A very good laugh. A very, very good laugh. Anyway, the foot massage was relaxing, but the head massage was...strange. I wasn't quite relaxed enough for it, let's say!

And then there was the part where we tried to stiff the cab driver for his fare, but just don't check the Nanjing police blotter for that evening and you will not risk destroying the high reputation I have attained with you.

PS: If you had a bad day today, will it make you feel better if I tell you I somehow managed to pee on both pants legs in a squat toilet before dinner this evening? 

Monday, February 21, 2011

Dissent Magazine - Online Features - A Visit to a Confucian Academy -

Dissent Magazine - Online Features - A Visit to a Confucian Academy -

Bell follows his profile of Jiang Qing in China's New Confucianism with this surprising series of observations upon visiting Jiang at his Confucian Academy. The Catholic Church as a model of meritocratic leadership?

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

X-treme Education and Why Johnny Can’t Read and It’s Mean to Ask Him To Because You Know It Makes Him Feel Stressed Before Lacrosse Practice

Seems like everywhere I turn these last few weeks, I come across stories and articles about education in China. It might be the Chinese-inflected X-treme, home-based sport called “Tiger Mom” under discussion in book reviews, opinion pages, tv shows, popular magazines, and everywhere else. Or it might be the recent news that Shanghai was top-of-the charts among schools of 65 countries. In any case, the conversation about education in China or, at the very least, about education filtered through the experiences and sensibilities of the people of the Chinese Diaspora is heating up, not cooling down. The word “Sputnik” keeps coming up.

In my current state of X-treme ignorance, I think of the prominence of such discussions as more of a reflection of American insecurities about our own educational system (and, let me just say, parenting system), rather than any kind of serious examination of different pedagogical models. And we’re not talking about pedagogy of the classroom only; I think we have to admit that the conversation is about contemporary American culture and the way children are raised. It’s about our schools and our teachers. It’s about the inequalities in education in this country.

What the Chinese do have is a certain strong cultural value placed on education itself, a value based in Confucianism. Americans can’t even agree on this anymore. At least that’s what it looks like to me, since as much value seems to be placed on willful ignorance as on intelligent thought in our country. Maybe that’s just me going through a cynical phase? It’s certain that when I say “education,” I am not talking about the same thing many students and their parents are when they use the word.

“Attitudes toward education” was actually one of the themes I teased out of my recent reading of Factory Girls by Leslie Chang. Many of the young women profiled turn to additional education as quickly as they have settled into their jobs in the industries of the Pearl River Special Economic Zone. Most of them see learning English as the way up the economic ladder and the book shows a variety of more of less fantastic schemes that the women end up spending their money on, as in the chapter on “Assembly-Line English” (Ch. 9).

Next up, Singapore schools turn to poetry slams! Xian schools give two thumbs up for French Club! Shanghai schools proclaim “Put aside the math books and take time for football!” (LOL)

Next week’s first meeting of the China seminar will focus on education in China. I’ve got homework to do.