PART TWO- You Are My Style

After an embarrassingly long two-month travel-related hiatus I am now back in Taigu and ready to continue dishing out the last three parts of the series. There will be travel-related posts soon to follow. Keep in mind these stories are from November and December so although they are no longer fresh they do have the benefit of a few months perspective. So without further ado, part two... 

About fifteen minutes after dismounting Liu Qian's electric bicycle I was out the door again to quickly grab some knife-cut noodles then teach a guest lecture for my friend Francis's English class. Francis is a professor of English and Horticulture here at Nongda, and in addition to tutoring 3 out of 6 of the foreigners, his open and flamboyant personality make him a much needed asset to Taigu life. At the start of the semester Francis had found me a random freshman whose ID card (and identity) I used to get the super cheap new student deal on a sim card (thanks Su Mingchao whoever you are...), therefore, I owed him a bit of a favor.

About a week before the lecture, when I gave him a call, he told me he'd like me to give a power point presentation on the American college experience. He wanted me specifically to illuminate, what he perceived to be, the freedom, openness, and lack of prejudice against all races, ethnicities, and sexualities that exist on American college campuses. I stammered that I would do my best before I hung up and realized, hey, this makes me uncomfortable. I went into a bit of a panic. Not only was I one American being asked to shamelessly glorify my motherland, but I couldn't help thinking what a poor representative of American culture I was. I prefer Chinese food to Western food, don't tend to like Hollywood movies, don't eat fast food ever, don't drink coffee, don't get excited about the Christmas season, and don't know how to drive a car, just to name a few. I think just two out of six must be enough to nullify my citizenship.   

In China America tends to be painted in the broadest of strokes (similar to the way that China is overgeneralized in the US, I might add). In conversation I have often heard the US described as a paradisical haven of indiscriminate wealth and freedom, therefore this kind of idealized speech did not surprise me entirely. What surprised me was to hear it from Francis, a very knowledgeable, intelligent and free-thinking individual who spent a year doing research in California. I spent the next week fretting over what exactly to do. I wanted to give Francis what he wanted, a sense of "the American college lifestyle," but of course I could not in good conscience make such sweeping claims. I decided the night before that the only responsible thing to do was zoom in on my own life and experiences, rather than attempt to speak to some kind of general "American experience." I resolved to discuss the Allen Memorial Art Museum's Art Rental program, using it to get at the specifics of an Oberlin-style education and tying it into a broader type of American style education.  

Over noodles I told Francis my plan, while he seemed slightly confused he nodded his approval. It was not until five minutes before class that Francis happened to mention that the class would contain 250 students. Too flustered and nervous to even react I found myself suddenly standing at a lectern in front of 250 unblinkingly attentive faces. As per Francis's request I introduced myself and my presentation in Chinese to gain the students' full attention and respect. It's worth mentioning that most people do not expect a foreigner to be able to say even two words (number one being "nihao," hello, number two being "xiexie," thank you) so just full sentences in themselves achieve an awed response, let alone somewhat correct pronunciation and tones, the bar is set tragically low.

The presentation went well, and I continued by having the students ask me questions (though refused to answer inappropriate questions, such as the inevitable "do you have a boyfriend"). A room full of hands flew up. Questions ranged from "how can we learn English better?" to "can you give me an English name?" to "what is the relationship between President Obama and Wen Jiabao?" With their 250 perky faces and endless questions, hanging onto my every word, this was about as close to a celebrity press conference as I will likely ever come. Unknowingly (and quite embarrassingly), I immediately assumed the role. "Hello Alice, nice to meet you, uh huh uh huh... (answer question)... Thank you. Next question please!"

After Francis forcibly wrapped up the Q and A session a flood of students immediately poured in and around me, pushing scraps of paper at me and begging me to sign them, "in Chinese AND English!!!" Then the the personal questions began tumbling out. "Do you have a boyfriend? how old are you? what's your phone number? do you have a QQ number? and the most irritatingly, (pointing to a ring on my right ring finger) "what does that mean!?" This barrage-ment culminated in a particularly bold male student coming out with the ultimate come-on line of this modern age, "Alexandra, you are my style," before asking me to be his girlfriend. I am his style? What style am I!? Well, his apparently, whatever that means.

At that moment I decided two things, one, I must be vigilant towards students' flirtatious attempts, I didn't want to loose face like that again. Two, I will take off all rings for the next two years to avoid confusion and sending the wrong message (apparently they all thought I was married). Francis jokingly offered to hire a bodyguard for me as he told his students to chill out and quickly shuttled me out of the room.

I left the lecture room that night feeling triumphant. The English level of Francis's students was considerably higher than the average student in my classes so I felt that not only had I been able to discuss the things that were meaningful to me, but I had actually been understood. I felt the warm radiant glow of being respected for my own thoughts and ideas as opposed to just my nationality and ethnicity.

I realized how many months it had been since I was treated with this kind of respect, the kind that you must work hard for. As wonderful as it is to have free reign over our own classrooms in Taigu, this also translates to a complete lack of structure, system of approval or disapproval, or sense of success or failure. Without any rubric by which to judge my own daily performance I tend to assume the worst. The validation that Francis and his 250 students provided me that day reminded me what it is like to feel, for lack of a better word, smart.