The Cream of the Crop

It’s incredible to believe that I’m merely 10 days away from being done with teaching. And only 11 days away from lounging on a Thailand beach, shamelessly sipping some girly cocktail with an umbrella in it, and enjoying doing absolutely nothing. Yet the closer I come to my last day, the more the shocking realization sets in that I will never see these people ever again.  Not just my friends and co-workers, but also my students. And so with this post, I’ve decided to do something that is long over-due—honor my favorite students.

Alvin—E6, Step Ahead level 14:

Alvin is a favorite for a number of reasons. For one, he’s incredibly intelligent. Yet he isn’t cocky, arrogant, or an attention-whore. When I ask a question, Alvin first looks around to make sure no one else is raising their hand before he volunteers to answer. A while back our class learned “genius”, and so since then I’ve started calling Alvin our genius—which still embarrasses him every time. 

But I have plenty of hard-working and smart students. What really separates Alvin from the pack is the fact that he is a notorious Yankees fan. Almost everything he owns, from his t-shirts to his pencil box, is Yankees memorabilia. He isn’t the typical fair-weather Taiwanese Yankees fan either, who only follows because once-upon-a-time Taiwanese native Chien Ming-Wang pitched for them. He’s hardcore, as in he watches every game he can, follows them online, and is clearly invested emotionally in their performance. Because of this, during almost every break during E6 class, Alvin and I discuss baseball. Admittedly, most of the time is spent with me bashing on the Yankees and talking some good ole-smack. In fact, about a month ago when the A’s were on the verge of sweeping the Yankees, I was at full throttle. All Alvin could do was shake his head and say “teacher, Coco Crisp is good.” Of course when the A’s got pounded 22-7 in game 3 of that series, avoiding Alvin’s wrath was impossible. Yankees fans always are relentless.

Benson-T8, Treehouse Level 2:

Benson is without-a-doubt my most infamous student. If any of you are looking for a good story once I’m home, just mention this kid’s name. Benson is the typical student who pains you to no end inside of the classroom, but you love outside of the classroom. The kid is enthusiastic, hilarious, and is definitely going to break some hearts some day. At first, having Benson in my Pre-ACP class literally drove me to the bottle. The kid wouldn’t get anything done, and he proved to be a major distraction. But over time I came to love this kid’s personality. One day when throwing the sticky-ball, he did a Hideo Nomo wind-up (especially shocking considering he hadn’t even been born when Nomo was around). One day, using his incredibly limited English, Benson nevertheless tried to explain the “America movie” he just saw. After realizing he couldn’t find the words he wanted, he simply decided to act it out—and I mean really act it out. After about 30 seconds I realized he was talking about Captain America, but I was too overjoyed by this impromptu charades performance that I let him go on undisturbed for at least 2 minutes before I told him I understood what movie he was talking about. Lately, because of one our English teachers being on vacation, schedules have been rearranged and sadly I haven’t taught his class as often. Every day when he asks me “teacher, today is you?” (are you teaching today?) and I tell him “no”, he folds his arms, stomps on the ground, and gives me an angry look. When I had to walk into his classroom right before class started to grab some books, he mauled me like a wild tiger and wouldn’t let go. Which is something he’s been known to do (see below).

Dora­­-T8, Treehouse Level 2 :

Also in Benson’s class is Dora. Dora is especially young, and she only joined T8 about six months ago. I still remember the first day she showed up to class, holding her mom’s arm for dear life and looking terrified at me, the tall white guy. As is the case with all students, there was an adjustment period where Dora had to conquer her fear of me and come to like me as a teacher. As it turns out, it seems to have done more than that. Somehow within that first month or so, I went from being Dora’s formidable, scary-looking English teacher to the equivalent of her father. During class, when I’m walking around helping students with their workbook exercises, I’m regularly pulled away by Dora—who, instead of raising her hand and waiting, decides it’s best to just grab me and walk me over to her desk. And the thing is, instead of being annoying, she’s adorable that I can’t help but find it cute. Dora and her fellow classmate Sherry have also recently started smacking my butt, which they obviously find hilarious. One day when Joanna, my Chinese teacher, saw this, she tried to scold them while also trying not to laugh. “Whattt??? Is Teacher Andrew your father??”, she jokingly asked, to which they naturally giggled and replied in the affirmative. From a cuteness standpoint, Dora ranks no. 1 among all my students. How can you not love this face?

precious

Benson taking me somewhere imporant, and Dora once again mistaking me for her father.

Katrina-T3, Treehouse Level 7:

Katrina is definitely the sweetest student I have, and perhaps the most driven student—undoubtedly due to the fact she is actually Teacher Joanna’s daughter. Among all the teachers at Hess, Katrina is a favorite. Being several grades younger than her classmates hasn’t stopped her from being one of the best students. Regardless of whether or not we’re teaching her that day, Katrina always drops by our desks to talk to us. And she doesn’t do it in the annoying way some students do it, where they simply say our name and poke us. Katrina will give her best effort to have a genuine conversation with us. And as I’ve mentioned before, Katrina has an almost insatiable desire to learn. As part of the Treehouse curriculum, I’m required to teach Math every 3 or 4 classes. Because she’s much younger than the other students, Teacher Joanna has explained to me that it’s not important if Katrina doesn’t finish, since she is nowhere near that level of Math in her Chinese school. Even though I explain this point to her, Katrina refuses to quit. One day the poor girl started tearing up because she couldn’t understand a concept and I thought my heart was going to break. She doesn’t care if she’s younger—she wants to learn. Bottom line.

The F4 girls­-F4, Step Ahead Level 16:

I’m actually a little sad writing this right now. As of Friday, my F4 class will be officially graduated and done with Hess. As the highest level students in the school, these kids have been a lot of fun. They’re practically fluent in English, which makes my job a whole heck of a lot easier. As my Chinese teacher recently pointed out, they basically teach themselves. We’re there as more of a safety net or guide. And for the 4 girls in that class, especially considering they’re now in Jr. High, they find nothing more interesting than music and boys. And naturally teasing me every opportunity they get. They alternate between making fun for not having a girlfriend, for having lines in my forehead, or my wardrobe choices. Sometimes it almost feels like I never left home, and the role of my brothers have been replaced by these 4 girls. But their teasing is all in good fun and not hurtful. And I naturally have to tease back, making fun of the fact they love Twilight and Avril Lavigne. And on some topics we actually agree—like when we came to the same conclusion that Taiwanese boys are “sissy” (their words, not mine). Certainly, as the smartest students I have and the ones I can talk the most freely with, these girls will definitely be missed.

Honorable Mentions: ChaCha, McQueen (yes, McQueen), and Chen-Chen are also favorites of mine—based solely on the fact that they have awesome names.

Religulous

Ah, September. A great month for a number of reasons. Professional and collegiate football have kicked off, MLB playoffs are rapidly approaching, the heat has started to subside slightly, and my flights to Thailand and back home are just around the corner. Perhaps most importantly, the arrival of September has meant that I survived August—which was, of course, Ghost Month here in Taiwan.

I didn’t know much about religion in Taiwan before I came over. Thanks to my East Asian history classes in college I figured there existed a mix of Confucianist, Buddhist, and Taoist elements—but to be entirely honest, I didn’t really know what any of them entailed. Apart from the mostly forgotten information I gleamed from those classes, the only other reference I could remember to Asian religion were Buddhist monks in The Hangover II.

Long story short, the religious scene in Taiwan isn’t like the religious scene in America. You’re not going to find lunatics on a soap box predicting the impending Second Coming, nor is anyone going to make outrageous claims that Barack Obama is the anti-Christ. People aren’t at each other’s throats over any “Ground Zero Mosques” or anything like that. Religion presents itself in a very unique manner here. 

For one, religion here tends to be very superstitious. And I don’t mean this in a judgmental way. It’s simply the truth.

Take a few weeks ago, for example. As I mentioned earlier, it was Ghost Month in Taiwan—a time when apparently the souls of those passed away come up to the earthly realm to beg for food, find peace, etc. etc. I was sitting at my desk at school, grading homework and minding my own business. Suddenly my Chinese co-teacher screams, runs out the door, and then breaks down in tears on the sidewalk. What happened? Well, apparently she was glancing at a picture on the computer when she saw a little girl come into the picture, look at her, and gesture towards some candles in the picture (which apparently suggests that this particular ghost-girl was hungry). Creepy, right? Even though I choose not to believe in ghosts and such, I was tripped out. Until August concluded, I felt similar to how I felt after I watched The Ring for the first time—constantly checking around whenever I was by myself.

But that’s just one telling example of Taiwanese superstition. There are many others I’ve witnessed, many of which concern death. I’ve found out the hard way that writing someone’s name in red ink is pretty much condemning them. It only took a near mutiny by my students to help me understand that mistake. Also, if you either stick your chopsticks straight up in a bowl, or rest them at a 45 degree angle, this is also an omen of death (because it resembles incense burning). Locals also regularly burn Heaven Money, which is ostensibly meant to provide financial security to loved ones in the after-life. Non-death related faux pauses include eating the last piece of something (which naturally means you’ll never get married) or shaking your leg (which means you’re destined for a poverty-stricken life). Frankly these are all very humorous in how ridiculous they sound. But at the same time they remind me of some of the kooky things we sometimes believe in—like when our moms used to tell us “to not make that face or it will get stuck that way”, or that “cracking your knuckles will make them bigger.”

For a second thing, the religion here is almost inextricably linked to the culture. Whereas in the States we have separation of church and state, in Taiwan it’s the opposite. The temples are as culturally significant as they are religiously. And many of the local holidays have a spiritual or mythical foundation, such as the Mid-Autumn Festival that just passed—where the Taiwanese celebrate by giving offerings to the Moon Goddess. 

This will be one of the more unique aspects of Taiwanese culture I miss when I go home. Especially considering there tend to be a lot of delicious treats that accompany these holidays :)

September Call-Ups

A couple of weeks ago, Reachtoteach held its’ monthly social event—a meet and greet at a local bar. Generally speaking, this event was no different from the many others I’ve attended—similar venue, music, and drinks. But in one way it was unmistakably unique. So many of the familiar faces I’d grow accustomed to seeing at these events had disappeared. In the past 2 months, a seemingly endless trend of exodus has started.

In their stead was a fresh new batch of faces. The new recruits had arrived to fill the shoes of the retired veterans.

Meeting these fresh faces proved easy. Being new means being especially sociable in hopes of making new friends. I introduced myself, and went through the check-list of standard questions you always ask when you meet someone for the first time (at least until the alcohol catches up and things spice up a little). 

“What’s your name? Where are you from? Where’d you go to school? Age/Sex/Location?”

And then of course:

“How long have you been here?”

The answers I received almost knocked me off my chair (I promise it wasn’t alcohol-induced).

“1 month.” “1 week.” “3 days.”

Make no mistake. These kids were newbies.

A couple of things happened at this point. First, I felt a sudden jolt of nostalgia that I previously figured I wouldn’t feel until I arrived back home. I was jealous that these new teachers were experiencing Taiwan for the first time, and that they possessed all the vigor, anticipation, and enthusiasm that I did just 11 months ago. I felt a little like that old grandpa reminiscing..." you know, when I was your age..."

Second, it became very clear that I’d made the transition from rookie to veteran. Before I knew it I had become one of the seniors in Taiwan. I spent a good portion of the night answering questions on what teaching was like, what fun things there were to do in Taiwan, stinky tofu, typhoons, heaven money, and all the other quirky things about life in Taiwan. It was like I was the Oracle of Taiwan. For once my Chinese skill appeared strong, and some even told me that they enjoyed this blog—ill-updated as it is.

I’m not going to lie, it felt pretty freaking sweet. 

What was even more surprising is that I met a handful of people whom I’ve actually interviewed for Reachtoteach. It was strange meeting people face-to-face whom I’ve already fairly in-depth hour long conversations with. Even stranger to see the "fruits of my labor", so to speak.

Honestly, I was in a little disbelief when my friends began to leave. I likened it to the emotions I felt when everyone dispersed after the LanguageCorps training roughly 1 year ago—an almost fairy-tale kind of year which seemed to be prematurely coming to an end. But then I realized that I soon was to be part of this trend. So in that sense, the people leaving and the new influx of recruits signaled the beginning of the end of my Taiwan tenure.

At least I now know that if I decide to return, there will be more cool people to hang out with. And even more to replace them when the time comes. In the words of the great Lu, “the show goes on.”

The new kids on the block.

Me and the bosslady, Carrie.

Formosan Food

Surprise, surprise. In regards to my expectations about the food, I was once again deceived by preconceived stereotypes. In my defense, I’m sure a number of National Geographic and Discovery Channel documentaries were also partly responsible in contributing to these flawed expectations.

Before I arrived here, I visualized myself sitting cross-legged, meditating after some mixture of yoga and tai chi, and calmly sipping on some organic, goat urine-based concoction which would tell all the toxins inside me to piss off. I would slim down to .006 percent body fat, achieve a super-human metabolism, and live to be 103 years old.

Well, this wasn’t the case. Admittedly this was at least in part because of my laziness. The idea of doing Bikram yoga, especially in a climate where I already profusely sweat as is, was probably overly ambitious. And my white-boy flexibility (or lack thereof) has never really been compatible with any of those activities anyways.

And while my envisioned exercise regiment was a tad idealistic, the apparent lack of healthy food was surprising. I was convinced that Asian food would be ultra organic, balanced, and nutritious—especially considering how fit everyone seems to be. How else could such slim physiques be possible? (maybe they’re on to something with the betel nut chewing?)

Instead of the uber-hippy lifestyle I imagined for myself, my daily habits usually include indulging in some steamed pork dumplings for breakfast, wolfing down a lunchbox before class, and then sampling fried night market delicacies before retiring for the night. And, of course, running whenever possible to negate the effects of the aforementioned gluttony.

I’ve already given a brief description of how unhealthy Taiwanese food can be in previous posts; how my lack of self-control is continually at odds with my aim of living a healthy lifestyle.  But of course I’m always quick to conclude that I wouldn’t have it any other way. This food, though not exactly best for the belly (or arteries), more than makes up for it by satisfying the taste buds.

Indeed, the majority of the local food I’ve come across here is fried, greasy, salty, sugary, or all of the above. Especially at the night markets. Local delicacies include fried squid, scallion cakes, dumpling balls, wontons, pot stickers, and a whole host of other bomb foods which I don’t know the names of. 

And if all this food sounds disappointing because it sounds like you could order it at PF Changs or Panda Express, there are always those crazy foods that you’d only see on Strange Eats or perhaps even Fear Factor. In the past year I’ve sampled stinky tofu (which literally smells like a baby’s diaper), chicken feet, liver and hearts, and dried pig’s blood. HmHmHm.

Dried pig's blood. Not bad if you can get over the thought of it.

Food in Taiwan is certainly not restricted to traditional Chinese dishes, however. Throughout the country exists an eclectic fusion of mainland Chinese, Taiwanese, American, Indian, Italian, Vietnamese, Korean, and Japanese cuisine— an edible testament to the country’s international history. I never imagined that during the course of the week I could eat sushi, curry and naan, Korean hot pot, teppanyaki, pho, and of course, Outback Steakhouse. That’s a pretty tough lineup to beat.

So while it wasn’t what I was anticipating, it’s turned out to better than I could have possibly imagined. Sometimes the best things in life are the unexpected.  And the unhealthy.

Southeastern Hospitality

*Disclaimer: Once again, it’s impossible to generalize a group of 23 million. The following reflects only what I’ve learned from my experiences.

In my 8 months as an interviewer for Reachtoteach, I’ve been asked a wide variety of questions by potential teachers. I’ve answered in detail about everything from cultural faux pauses to the Taiwanese attitude towards homosexuality. However varied these questions are, there’s always one that inevitably comes up.

“I’ve heard the Taiwanese are really friendly people. Is this true?”

My answer has become as standard as the question itself.

“Indeed, the Taiwanese are unfailingly friendly.”

 

If they probe me for more information, I proceed to give concrete examples to illustrate this point. For example:

On my first full night in Taiwan, I got lost (me?? go figure) trying to find my way back to my hostel. Knowing absolutely no Chinese, and not having a clue on the layout of the city, I began to panic. Lo and behold, a young Taiwanese xiaojie comes to my aid. Using her best English, and being very patient with my lack of communication, she somehow manages to get me on the right bus. How does she do this? She takes the bus with me until I know where I am. If that’s not hospitality, I don’t know what it is.

In my first month in Taiwan, I frequented a breakfast place near my house almost every day. Not only was the food pretty tasty, but it also sported a huge flat-screen HD TV—which during playoff baseball time, provided a welcome taste of home. Before long it soon became apparent to the laoban that the reason I was showing up was for the entertainment. So even if the channel was set to something else, the moment I walked in baseball suddenly appeared on the screen. And as if that wasn’t accommodating enough, every morning I ate there I was given one (sometimes two) complimentary cups of coffee. Why? Because they’re that damn nice.

About 2 months ago, my computer bit the dust for the second time in only 10 months. Naturally, I was pretty livid. And unfortunately the target of my anger was the computer store manager where I took my computer to get repaired. I was an especially unhappy camper when he informed me of the $150 bill. But then he did something that was completely shocking and unexpected. Knowing I would be without a computer for 2 weeks, he offered me a loan, completely free of charge. It didn’t take me any time at all to realize that this was something that would never happen back in the states. Once again, the Taiwanese had proven their generosity.

When I got home that night, I happily posted a FB status declaring how impressed I was with Taiwanese people. My Asian friend Jenny then quickly pointed out that they’re only friendly to me because I’m white. While this provided a laugh, there’s also some harsh reality to this statement.

As I’ve mentioned before, the Taiwanese love white people and being white. If the sun is shining at all, the locals here are quick to throw up their umbrellas in self-defense. At first I didn’t understand this phenomenon. Was it trying to keep cool? Fear of skin cancer? As it turns out, the Taiwanese just like being white, and they avoid tanning like it’s the plague. Whereas Americans embrace color, and some even spend several hours a week in tanning salons to this end, the Taiwanese are of a completely different attitude. Unfortunately, this has very troubling implications for their attitudes towards people of darker skin colors…

In my first month at Hess, I was teaching an older class of 12-13 year olds. The topic for this level was “free time”, and the day’s lesson concerned sports. After the students finished reading an article about the almighty Michael Jordan, I elicited a discussion. The first question I asked was: “Do you want to be famous like Michael Jordan?”

Without hesitation, my student Max raises his hand and says “I do not want to be like Michael Jordan because he is black man.”

To worsen this already deteriorating situation, I had him repeat this answer at least 3 times. I was so shocked at his answer that I couldn’t believe my ears. “Did you just say….what??” After the 3^rd time, my Chinese Teacher rebuked the hell out of him. But at that point the damage had already been done. This was only the first of many examples of outright racism I would witness towards peoples with darker skin.

Wanting more of an explanation on my student’s response, I asked one of my Taiwanese friends why the locals are more racist against darker people. The response here wasn’t more encouraging…”because we can’t see them at night.”

One of my co-teachers recently explained that her mother would never allow her to marry a black man. Why? “Because she says ‘our babies would always look dirty.’” WOW.

But the interesting thing about this racism is that it isn’t all that hateful. Sure, it’s definitely racist. But it doesn’t seem very prejudiced. As my students have explained to me again and again, they just prefer being white and think that being white is prettier. It doesn’t appear that there is any overt hatred towards darker people. And to them, this very apparent discrimination is neither a cause of shame nor is it looked down upon socially. And frankly this last part makes a little sense. After all, the Taiwanese certainly do not share the same painful history us Westerners have in regards to treatment of people of darker skin color. To them it’s hardly even racism—it’s just stating a preference.

But now I know that the “unfailingly friendly” connotation needs an asterisk. Perhaps the reason I am treated so kindly is indeed because I’m white. I’ve been introduced to the darker (literally) side of the Taiwanese hospitality.