Dumb It Down

Education is a funny thing. We all know it’s important, and necessary, and that it can help change the world. But it’s also really interesting how it works; how different being the educator is from being the educated. Since arriving in Taiwan I’ve had the opportunity to do both. Once again, perspective is everything.

Teaching English abroad appears to be the trendy thing to do nowadays. Especially amongst recent graduates like myself, the opportunity to travel to distant regions of the earth and make a reasonable living while doing so is simply too tempting to resist. At a time when jobs in the U.S. aren’t exactly good and plenty, teaching abroad provides a steady income. The bottom-line?  Money is money…even if it’s halfway across the globe and looks rather different from the green, Presidentially-themed currency with which I’m most familiar.

Of course those of us who opt to take this route get a considerable amount of flack for doing so. We’re taking the easy way out. We’re putting off “real life.” We’re ignoring our responsibilities. Chief among these accusations is the claim that we’re taking advantage of the system, of the fact that English has been unofficially crowned as the universal language. A while back I met some guys from Mexico who, when they heard what I was doing here, exclaimed “Aw man...can you imagine if people paid us to teach Spanish?” (Umm…No?) with a palpable air of disgust and disbelief.  While certainly there’s some truth to these assertions, I assure you that every English teacher I’ve met here in Taiwan is very aware of how fortunate they are to be native English speakers.

That said, doing this gig can be a lot harder than it sounds. From what I hear, many jobs teaching English abroad can be a bit of a cake-walk. In other parts of Asia, I’ve heard of teachers literally watching films or doing arts and crafts for the whole period. You could basically substitute the title Native Speaking Teacher for Glorified Babysitter. And admittedly, this is what I was expecting when I arrived in Taiwan. Of course I was ready for anything, but after hearing so many stories about how easy it was I began to buy into it all. My preconceived notion was that my job wouldn’t be very demanding, I’d have plenty of vacation time, and that teaching itself would be a joke.

Well, it isn’t a joke. Or if it is I’m still waiting for the punch-line to arrive. 

First, one should never underestimate how hard it is to teach English to kids whose vocabulary is rather limited, whose tongues are used to making sometimes completely different noises (“l” and “r” can be really tough on them), and whose native language follows a completely different formula. Especially when you attempt to explain something really complex (like the freaking word “forlornly”), the process of trying to select words they already understand and patch them together into a coherent definition can be frustrating. Sometimes words simply don’t suffice, and as a result you’re forced to get creative. I’m proud to say that over the last 5 months my drawing capabilities, which previously had been notoriously bad, have improved dramatically. Even my ability to act out and use gestures to effectively communicate ideas to my class has got me thinking that perhaps Broadway might be in my future. But all of that has taken considerable time and effort. 

Then of course there’s the problem of teaching why particular pronunciations or grammar is or isn’t correct without using the classic “It just is” or “this is an exception” explanations. As a native speaker, I’ve taken for granted that I can easily identify poor grammar without citing a particular rule to prove my point. However, when you’re teaching, you have to do better than that. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve probably learned more about the rules and workings of the English language in the last 5 months than I have since junior high. 

Perhaps most importantly, I’ve had to deal with the fine line we have as NSTs between correcting our students’ grammar and getting them involved and participating. Part of our job is making sure our students understand and use correct English grammar. On the other hand, if you’re too nit-picky, you run the risk of students feeling afraid to screw up and therefore never opening their mouths. Sometimes, you just simply need to let them speak, broken grammar and all. Sometimes, you just need to “dumb it down”. 

And then on top of everything else, there’s that whole time management aspect. All of my classes require me to teach a mix of patterns, vocabulary, phonics, grammar, and conduct speaking, listening, and writing exercises.  Needless to say, time is always of the essence. 

But if I think teaching has been a difficult endeavor thus far, it surely pales in comparison to my experiences on the other side of the education spectrum as a student.

I’m not exactly sure what motivated me to sign up for Mandarin classes a month ago. Perhaps it was that I thought a basic understanding of the language would be a valuable skill later in my career. Or perhaps I wanted to recreate my not-so long lost college days. Or maybe I just wanted to have the ability to flirt with and impress the local talent. Either way, I did it. In a reversal of that famous phrase, this time “the master has become the student.” Every month I hand over a considerable portion of my salary so that in return I can spend three straight hours every Tuesday hunkered down in a classroom with 2 of my friends, trying to advance my limited knowledge of the Chinese language. 

I’d love nothing more than to report that I’ve discovered myself to be a natural; that the language that once appeared so formidable had been exposed as weak. But that wouldn’t be the truth. In reality, I’m getting my butt kicked. Chinese people often identify English grammar, particularly changing verb tenses, as the biggest roadblock in their language progress. Chinese simply doesn’t follow the same rules. Conversely, however, English doesn’t have the crazy tones that Chinese does. And lo and behold, that is the number one obstacle for English speakers in learning Chinese. You can literally say one word in four slightly different ways and have it mean something completely different. The number 4 is unlucky here because of how closely it sounds like the word for death, and I’ve actually heard of a foreigner getting in trouble for slightly mispronouncing the word for wallet and thereby asking someone “excuse me, I’ve lost my foreskin. Have you seen it?” As someone who considers himself hopelessly tone deaf, this difficulty often seems insurmountable. I think before my next class I’m going to do a little “Do-Re-Mi” warm-up to get my vocal cords nice and limber and ready for action.

I also suffer from the fact that I have roughly 7 years of Spanish schooling under my belt. Apparently whatever lobe of the brain is responsible for language development is stuck in Español mode. Whenever I try to translate my English thoughts over here, I inevitably wind up thinking of Spanish. The unfortunate result of all this is that I often end up speaking in what I refer to as “Spanese”. Too many times have I substituted puedo for ke yi or por favor for qing wen. Truth is I never actually knew how much Spanish I knew until I arrived here.

It’s certainly been an experience so far. I can’t stop thinking about how different it is being a student again after becoming so comfortable in the role of teacher for the last 5 months. I’ve become more sympathetic to my students when they are shy about participating, as I too, even in the company of two friends whose Chinese skills are roughly equivalent to mine, am uncomfortable being put on the spot. And I’ve continued to work on slowing down my speech, very aware of difficult it can be to comprehend foreign language when it’s rapidly spoken. I’m sure my students would receive great pleasure if they knew that I was now the one finishing homework last minute, or struggling to keep up with the teacher. My oh my, how the tables have turned.

*If you figured the title of this post might have something to do with how excited I am for Lupe’s upcoming album, you were absolutely correct*

Hashing It Out

My Chinese New Year continued on Friday the 4th, as my body recovered from the excessive walking and eating from the previous day. Not exactly in the mood to do anything crazy like book last-minute HSR tickets to the bottom of the island again, I was nevertheless motivated to carpe the diem. The sun was shining, it was a moderate 68 degrees, and it's not like I had any thing else to do. There were still several spots around Taipei I hadn't had the pleasure of visiting yet--why not journey over to one of those? I decided upon XinDian, a small town on the river. Only about 6 or 7 stops south of my exit on the green MRT line, I was able to get there in about 20 minutes. My roommate had described this place as the "ideal date spot" around Taipei, and surely he was right. Couples were everywhere, whether they were enjoying a romantic paddle-boat ride on the river or riding rented bikes along the riverbank. I ate at a delicious restaurant on the waterfront and sampled some other delicacies (curry beef roll=delish) before plopping myself down on a grassy patch by the river, busting out of my book, and reading for the next 3 hours. Was my day eventful? Not so much. Was it relaxing and satisfying? Oh yes.
 

XinDian River

Friday we went to Yilan, a city close to the beach on the Western coast of Taiwan. Sadly, I don't have much to say about Yilan because it was a little bit of a letdown. First, we didn't actually get to the beach until around 4 p.m. Secondly, the weather was unfortunately really overcast, cold, and windy. And thirdly, and most importantly, there wasn't a whole lot to do. I think as a result of not planning at all for Tainan and having it turn out so successful I developed a little bit of traveling hubris. I rode the momentum of Tainan into Yilan and unfortunately came up short. What made matters worse is that, when we finally left that night, it took us a whole 2 and a half hours to get back to Taipei. What should have been a 45 minute trip was lengthened tremendously by the fact that we were caught in an onslaught of traffic, as apparently everyone was making their way back in to Taipei at the tail end of the New Year. We finally made it back around 930, after which we rushed over to Macho Tacos (the best, if only Mexican joint in town) to salvage the day with a burrito. After that we met up with some co-workers for drinks, darts, and billiards. And it was then that we all decided on our plans for Sunday, which would end up being the most eventful and excitement-filled day of the weekend by far.

beach at Yilan

Sunday, February 6th
Every Sunday, a group called the "China Hash House Harriers" holds a kind of hiking-race through the mountains somewhere around Taiwan. Fellow Hess employee Dennis was the first one to try it out, and has since become a very involved member of the group. In turn, he got my roommate Ari hooked on them. Since that point, Ari had tried getting me to go several times, but for whatever reason I was never in the mood. I either felt too unprepared or too unmotivated to go, especially during the bitterly cold and rainy Sundays of January. I promised I would go "eventually", but continued to push it off. Even if on Wednesday or Thursday I said I was for sure going, I always seemed to change my mind by the time Sunday rolled around. But this Sunday was different. Even though I had been out drinking the night before, I woke up rather energized. And more importantly, unlike the Sundays in January, this Sunday was exceptionally beautiful. 73 degrees, sunny and warm, no breeze, and not even the slightest possibility of rain. Especially considering I still had the following day off from work, I figured there was absolutely no excuse not to go this time. There just simply wasn't going to be a better day.


This particular race "hash" took place in the mountains of Neihu right outside of Dahu Park, which was interesting since I had actually already hiked there once (see "Medicinal Mountain"). That said, the two experiences couldn't have been more different. All along I had just told everyone that I was doing it for fun and my main goal, given my absolutely horrid sense of direction, was not getting lost. And while this was partly true, my inner competitive instinct really wanted me to succeed as well. Considering myself a decent runner and moderately in-shape, I figured the race wouldn't be all that difficult and that I could finish towards the top without much of a problem. HA. Yeah freaking right.


The "hash" produced burning and pain in muscles that I didn't even know existed until that point. Being a decent runner for this race was about as useful as using steroids before a curling competition. Within 10 minutes of climbing steeply up hill, I was panting. Within 20 minutes, my entire body was covered in sweat. The race alternated between steep inclines (sometimes so intense that you actually had to use a rope to climb up) and declines, where basically you just slid down--grabbing on to trees every so often to keep yourself from tumbling down (frankly those parts felt a lot more like skiing than running). Occasionally, there was a break in the trees and I was able to get a magnificent view of the Neihu mountains. Simply breathtaking stuff. By the end of the 75 minutes, my legs felt like jello and my eyes were stinging from the sweat. While I may have abandoned hopes of being in the top 3 about 10 minutes in, I still felt proud as I was to able to finish 10th or so, only a few minutes behind the leaders.


After everyone finished, then the real fun began. A ceremony called "down-downs" occurred, where the GM (Grand Master) basically called up anyone and everyone he wished to take shots of beer. As a "hash virgin", I was called up to take a couple shots of beer and do a dance. In between drinking, the GM made fun of everyone, using the foulest language and dirtiest humor I think I had ever heard. It was freaking hilarious. It was like an hour of stand-up comedy that made anything you've ever seen on South Park look like a Focus on the Family TV special.


Once the down-downs wrapped up, everyone was off for the post-hash "bash"--a dinner that  allegedly provided bottomless food and drinks. And while the food part was admittedly a let-down, the drinks definitely weren't. "The beer flowed like wine." The group that proudly embraces the "drinking group with a running problem" tag certainly lived up to its name. So even though it took me several weeks to finally do one, and I may or may not have been hating life during the actual hash, I was very content by the end of the night. I had found a new community in Taipei. And the next time the weather permitted, I would be back at it again.

Xin Nien Kwai Le! (No, seriously this time)

I think at this point it's safe to say I've come to understand the benefits and drawbacks of living in Taiwan. The food? Definite benefit. The six day work weeks? Drawback. The cost of living? Benefit. The strong potential for rain every day? Drawback. However, one benefit that just has to be mentioned is the two...yes, two New Years celebrations. Just over a month ago, I described the scene that took place on New Years eve (the conventional New Years Eve, that is)—how there were people everywhere, incessant fireworks explosions, freezing cold weather, and plenty of alcohol consumption.

But this year I was able to experience my first Chinese New Year, which provided me with a much-needed six day relief from Hess and the crazy young ones. Chinese New Year, which is based on the lunar calendar and is far more culturally relevant than the January 1st date, was welcomed in by locals on February 3rd. Now, when I first got here, I was warned by natives and expats alike that Taipei completely died during Chinese New Year—that everybody, their moms, and their mom's moms got the hell out dodge to visit relatives living in mainland China or other parts of Taiwan. I initially made plans to go to Thailand, but when those fell through I was left with the unattractive prospect of staying put in Taiwan. Woe is me.

One of the best things about ushering in new years, though, is that it gives you the opportunity to make new years' resolutions. And since I didn't really bother to do that on January 1st, I figured this would be a solid opportunity (once again, when in Taiwan do as the Taiwanese do). I only made one resolution, and I kept it quite simple. In the past I've had trouble maintaining resolutions (who doesn't?) in part because I was a little too ambitious and strict with myself. The "I'm going to go to the gym X times/week" and "I'm going to save X number of dollars/week" promises had been broken too many times for them to hold any real meaning, and so I clearly realized that I needed to adopt a different approach.

I'm going to have a positive attitude and make the most of each day, no matter what is thrown in my direction.

Now there's a resolution. Sure, it's kinda cheesy. And it's not exactly original, either (carpe diem, anyone?), but oh well. After all, in a world that is as inconveniently unpredictable as the weather or operating hours here in Taiwan, our attitude towards everything is one of the few things we actually have control over. Which brings me back to Chinese New Year. Was I bummed I wasn't basking in the sun on a sandy beach in Thailand? Sure. But was I going to let it ruin my one extended vacation all year? Fat chance. Instead, I chose to view my situation of being stranded in Taiwan as a blessing and an opportunity to explore. I decided to take my resolution at its worth, and make the most of every day. And I decided to waste no time in doing so. I was going to start on Chinese New Year's Day. The glass is always half-full, my friends.

Tainan--Thursday, February 3rd
Luckily my roommate Ari, who is as financially strapped as me at this point, was in the same boat as me—lacking enough funds to travel and therefore stuck in Taiwan. Again, luckily, Ari had the same mindset as me. He was eager to explore the parts of Taiwan we had not yet experienced, and shared my enthusiasm for avoiding Taipei—a city that literally died over the holidays—as much as possible. After a little deliberation and researching high-speed-rail tickets, we agreed on visiting Tainan for a day trip. Oh the joys of living in such a small country. Tainan, Taiwan's former capital, is about 3/4 of the way down the island. Yet, the high-speed-rail can have you there in a mere 100 minutes. It's amazing to think how it takes my poor little brother something like 10 hours to travel from San Jose to San Diego, two cities in the same state. Anyways, we boarded our train at about 11:40 a.m., and after traveling at breakneck speeds of up to 170 m.p.h., arrived in Tainan just after 1 p.m.

HSR ticket. Ish was FAST.

It was then that the rumors I'd heard about the weather on the southern part of the island were verified. Sunny and warm—just what the doctor ordered after a miserably cold and dark January in Taipei. The weather was so unbelievably therapeutic and gorgeous that I actually forgot how Ari and I had no real plan after arriving. We were dropped off in the middle of nowhere and on our own to figure it out, but still we were relaxed. It only took a couples of minutes of us staring confusedly at maps written in Chinese before a friendly Chinese man helped us figure out the shuttle over to Anping, a small town on the outskirts of Tainan located right on the Tainan River, which hosts the 350 year old Anping Old Fort, our first tourist stop for the day. The fort, originally constructed by the Dutch way back in the middle of the seventeenth century, and later renovated and occupied by the Japanese up until 1945, was an impressive place. It was fun to imagine all the trade that colonial outpost provided at a time when the Dutch effectively had a monopoly on sea-trade, and it was especially cool to witness evidence, in the form of faded cannons and partially destroyed brick walls, of the many battles that took place there.

"I just wanted to show off my cannons..."

View from the top of a tower at Anping Old Fort

After this, we made our way around to a number of other temples. We briefly passed through the first ever Taiwan Confucius Temple, which I've already mentioned. Then we stopped by the God of War temple, where Ari politely asked if the U.S. could get some help in Afghanistan (I quickly told him that I didn't think the combined powers of Jesus, Mohammad, and Greg Mortenson could pull that one off...not to be sac-religious). And then we went to another temple, and then another. Soon we discovered that temples literally lined every street in Tainan, and so we became quite reluctant to stop at one unless it had something that looked unique or interesting (the furnace burning Ghost Money qualified as something deserving of a visit). In between temple pit-stops we indulged in some amazing food stall grub, which included fried octopus, squid (cooked to perfection by a guy who periodically took breaks to throw back some good old Taiwan Beer), and dried fruit. It was incredible how active and busy Tainan was. The previous couple days in Taipei had felt like I was living in a ghost land, complete with tumbleweeds and dead silence. Tainan was the complete opposite. The mood was festive and the streets were buzzing.

Before departing that evening, we made a point to visit the Hsioupei Garden Night Market, marketed as the biggest night market in Taiwan. And boy it sure was. I've talked a lot about the population density in Taiwan. I'd gotten so used to jam-packed areas that it's slightly absurd.. Still, what I experienced at that night market was entirely new. It was a claustrophobic nightmare. Everyone was shoulder-to-shoulder pushing to get through. At times I actually I thought I was going to pass out from all the body heat and simply get trampled. But luckily the lingering aromas of delicious food were enough motivation for me to stay conscious and work my way slowly but surely through the crowd. For my patience and dedication I rewarded myself with a beef roll and a couple of ice cream treats.

a pastry loaded with chocolate ice cream, bananas, and fudge...BRILLIANT!

Ghost Money...extremely common in Chinese culture, but for me just resembles indulgences way too much

So many people...

As I joyously ate, many locals and I exchanged new years' wishes in both Chinese and English. As probably 2 of the 4 total white people in Tainan that day, the locals were quite amazed to see our faces. It seems that in Taipei, the Chinese don't care to really talk to us as much because there's so many expats there that we're not really all that special. In Tainan it's completely different. Everyone stared at us, just about everyone smiled, and a good handful of people tried their best to communicate with us—even to the point of interjecting themselves in our private conversations. Perhaps it was a little over the top, but I loved it. When people say that the Taiwanese are some of the friendliest people on earth, they're talking about these people. Apart from maybe my weekend in Hualien, I've never met nicer people.

Around 10:20 we once again boarded the HSR, this time on our way back to Taipei. With stomachs full of great food and faces full of sun, we headed home. The day had been lived to the fullest.

To be continued with more Chinese New Year adventures...

My Boy My Boy My Boy!

Boying (v).- proclaiming yourself to be a die-hard fan/admirer of someone famous, usually by shouting "that's my boy!"

Ex-"Dude did you see Inception?? Another badass performance from Leo--that's my boy!"

I'm not sure when exactly I started doing this, but I'd have to guess sometime around senior year of college. For whatever reason, the crew I rolled with with was big on it. Every time we watched SportsCenter, a basketball game, movie, television show, etc. someone would inevitably wind up yelling "that's my boy!". And truthfully, I fell in love with this. What better way to show your appreciation and commitment to your favorite stars than to proudly confess it--at every possible opportunity? Not to mention, by doing so you seem to develop a strong attachment to this person, like somehow you are part of all their amazing achievements. Talk about your all-time best vicarious experiences.

Over the last several years, I've "boyed" quite a few people. My list includes notables like Edward Norton, Talib Kweli, Michael C. Hall, Mos Def, Ryan Braun, Wes Welker, Tom Hanks, Don Cheadle, and many others. That said, if you know me you know that there are 3 people who are in a whole seperate realm when it comes to "my boys"--the holy Trinity of Ghiossi's boys if you will: Lupe Fiasco, Leonardo Dicaprio, and Chris Paul.

But there's another boy of mine who I've yet to mention. This boy is unique and stands out from the others for a number of reasons. For one, you won't see this boy anywhere on television or anything like that. In fact, no one has seen this boy for the past 2500 years. Yet everything I've learned about him, beginning with middle school and going through my East Asian History classes at Cal Poly, has totally fascinated me. I'm of course talking about my boy, the one and the only--Confucius.

And if you're thinking that just came from left field, bear with me.

"Thousand years of history would be like a long dark night without Confucius"

Yesterday I had the pleasure of visiting my first Confucius Temple. Acting on a spur-of-the-moment impulse, my roommate and I booked train tickets to Tainan, Taiwan's former capital. Much to my surprise and delight, I soon discovered that the first ever Confucius Temple to exist here in Taiwan was located in this wonderful, historically-rich city. With so many "copycats" sprinkled all over Taiwan, I figured ending up at the original was too good an opportunity to pass up, and so I gladly paid the 50 NT to enter the Temple Palace and there I was.

The Tainan Confucius Temple was originally constructed in 1665, and has since undergone multiple renovations. And honestly, other than the age of the place, it failed to impress me greatly as a tourist destination. Perhaps partly because there were so many people, everything (sadly) was in Chinese, and at that point we had already visited 2 other temples (you've seen one temple in Taiwan, you've seen them all), I wasn't as amazed as I thought I would be. Though I must admit that the section showcasing the various instruments used for past ceremonies at the temple was pretty damn cool. And of course the gold tablets with carved Confucian teachings would have been really sweet if I could read Chinese characters, but let's just say I'm not quite that far in my language lessons at this point...

.....something really intelligent, I'm sure...

Very old bell used for signaling ceremonies

drums (duh)

Yet despite the temple's shortcomings, the experience was nevertheless enjoyable because the temple itself reminded me of the great individual for which it had been built.

Although Confucius is known world-wide, many of the details surrounding his life, his teachings, and most importantly his role in the development of Chinese culture are a mystery to many of us from the West. In fact, up until middle school, the only way I had ever heard of Confucius was from those joke "Confucius Say" proverbs like Confucius Say, Man who stands on toilet is high on pot or Confucius Say, Two wrongs may not make a right, but two Wrights made an airplane. And while these are certainly good for a chuckle, the end result more often that not is that Confucius is unfortunately overlooked as one of the greatest thinkers in human history; and a man whom the world, especially the West, owes many of its values to.

Confucius is famous for advocating values such as filial piety, justice, and fulfilling one's role to society. But above all, and what impresses me most about Confucius, is how strongly he emphasized the need for education in society, which let's just say wasn't exactly as much of a no-brainer 2,500 years ago as it is today. Confucius even extrapolated on this central tenet to his teachings by arguing that the highest positions of power should be designated on this standard as opposed to the traditional familial-blood system. As a teacher in Taiwan, I've witnessed first-hand just how serious education is taken here. Whereas back home sometimes education is taken for granted (speaking partly from personal experience here), the opposite is true here. These kids literally go to school from 8-8 many of these days, and it's not uncommon for a child to be scolded or punished for bringing home A- scores. Sure, I do think all of that is a little over the top. But still it demonstrates that the Taiwanese understand that the best opportunities for success and moving upwards are firmly rooted in education. And Confucius was the first one to really push forward this doctrine.

Going back much further in time, long before Confucian teachings could influence the inner-workings of Hess Young Scholars' English School, Confucius' impact on Chinese culture can be seen in an even more significant light. The Examination System, which lasted from the Tang Dynasty all the way until 1905, was directly influenced by Confucius. This highly competitive system, which decided who would rise to top government roles and advisory positions, tested its participants in subjects varying from history, the arts, math, science, law, and calligraphy. This ensured that those with the most power and influence in Chinese society would surely be the most well-rounded and qualified. Undoubtedly what's even more amazing about this system is how it held very few restrictions on who could take the test, allowing even minorities and women to participate. If Confucius' teachings on the importance of education weren't important enough, surely the implication that anyone could use education to better oneself and transcend social classes were. It really should come as no wonder then that until the last 400 years or so, the West generally trailed China in scientific developments, and paled in comparison to the greatness of the Song, Tang, and Ming Dynasties.

But let me conclude by disembarking from my historical high horse. Surely Confucius' impact on Chinese history and culture is unparalleled. But what I am what most fascinated by is how many of his teachings influence contemporary American and Western culture. The very idea of a meritocracy is based upon Confucian ideals. Expanding upon that, it wouldn't even be a stretch to say that some (certainly not all) of capitalism, which promotes self-actualization, is founded partly in Confucianism (so much for rags-to-riches and the "American" dream...). Even our freedom of speech mirrors what Confucius taught about having healthy debate and disagreement within society. And to think that this man lived thousands of years before these ideologies would become commonplace in Western culture, and that he is generally regarded as a "conservative" thinker...

Sticky Icky

It's 4:50 p.m. on a Monday. A Tuesday. Any day, really. My TreeHouse students, despite their youth, are visibly exhausted. 8 straight hours of learning have clearly taken its toll on these youngsters. At this point learning English is just about last on their list of priorities, somewhere behind playing computer games, taking a nap, and living the life of a normal kid. Yet here they are, heads beginning to bob and eyelids looking heavier and drooping more as each second passes. They've already endured the first 20 minutes, which included the oh-so-exciting spelling quiz and patterns review (and especially on lessons 5 and 6 of the current unit, when they've been practicing the same patterns for over a week, it can be difficult to keep them interested. They could practically recite that stuff in their sleep, which they just about do). They're still a painful half hour away from break time and freedom. Something needs to happen quick. Otherwise these students are going to be out for the count.

"Game?" I ask perfunctorily. I already know their answer.

"Ya. Game. Game." The slight rise in their intonation indicating an elevated interest.

And then I bust out the big guns....

"Hmmm...sticky ball game?"

"YES!! Sticky ball!!" As my ear drums just about explode.

And there it is. Call me David Blaine, because I just worked some magic. In a mere matter of seconds I transformed a group of certifiably bored kids into dangerously excited and talkative ones. Of course this sudden change in spirits didn't have as much to do with me as it did my with my little circular friend, Sir Sticky Ball.

In the words of the great Austin Ghiossi, kids go "ape shit" for this thing

Few objects allure as much and demand as much attention as that tiny ball of suckers does (ranks somewhere behind Frodo's Ring and the Sword of 1000 Truths). For a ridiculously cheap price of 10 NT (approximately 30 US cents), it is easily the wisest investment a NST teaching in Taipei can make. Whenever boredom or monotony begins to infect the young ones, the sticky ball provides the ultimate bailout. Especially at times where class participation is lacking, this asset can be huge in terms of getting kids to break out of their shells. It seems the mere opportunity to throw this thing at the whiteboard gives them enough motivation to practice their language skills in front of their peers. For them, at that moment the number one fear in life is not speaking publicly. It's missing the chance to throw the sticky ball. It's truly amazing the amount of joy these kids from such a simple pleasure. And what's best about the sticky ball is its versatility. You can literally use the thing with any game you play. There's almost as many possibilities as there are stickers. Phonics Tic Tac Toe, Snakes and Ladders, the "fishy" game, Bingo, Snowball Fight, and the list goes on and on.

Of course there's inevitably some collateral damage you incur when you use the sticky ball as often as I do. It's safe to say I've taken my fair share of shots from the sticky ball as a result of errant throws. At this point I'm basically the Craig Biggio of the classroom. And then of course sometimes you have to play referee and stop the kids from throwing the ball at each other when things start to get a little too East Coast-West Coast. Then there's kids who almost take down the whiteboard in vain efforts to retrieve a sticky ball throw that was aimed just a little too high. And I can't even count the number of stickers that have come flying off the sticky ball, like shrapnel from an exploding grenade, from kids throwing the thing way too damn hard. Sure, these things are cheap. But when you're buying 2-3 a week, ish adds up.

All in all though I'm extremely grateful for this simple toy. It keeps my kids excited, and it gives me the utmost pleasure in seeing them so happy. Especially when the SuperMoney economy is still in recession, the sticky ball has proven to be a great alternative in keeping motivation and interest high. After all, (Super)Money can't buy the kind of happiness the sticky ball provides.

Split Personas

The date was March 30th, 1987. In the wee hours of the morning, a boy was about to come into the world. Getting to the hospital? Check. Doctor ready to go? Check. Everything was in order--except of course a name. When the boy was finally delivered around 3 a.m., a nameless life force sat there--waiting to be labeled.

"Is it going to be Andrew Richard or Jordan Richard?" My parents debated. Somehow the 9 months they had while I was still chilling in the womb hadn't been enough time to answer this one question. I guess now I understand it, knowing my parents like I do. After all it almost took them an eternity to decide on the tiles for our kitchen remodel. Understandably, naming their third child was a more serious commitment. Perhaps my mom was holding out hope that, despite all the initial reports, I would actually come out a girl, like she had been hoping for. But nope. Finally, unable to decide between the two, my parents turned to an unlikely hero for advice--Dr. David Bennett. Out of the blue, Dr. Bennett suggested "how about Andrew Jordan?" Apparently my parents fell in love with it on the spot, because they immediately dropped the other names. My poor dad (whose name is Richard) had somehow been eliminated from the equation, but yet everyone was satisfied.

I believe somehow that the initial indecision on what to name me still affects me today. For truthfully I don't even know what to call myself. For as long as I can remember, I've basically gone by 2 names. Some people call me Andrew; some people call me A.J. You'd think at some point that I'd have simply abolished one and embraced the other, but the truth is I haven't. I'm just as comfortable being called one as I am being called the other. What you call me probably depends more on how you met me or how long you've known me more than my own preference, since I don't really have one.

When I was just a younging as part of the Montemar Way neighborhood gang, I was unmistakably A.J. During middle school I flip-flopped between my 2 names--still OK with being called A.J. but considering a switch to Andrew to avoid being associated with that one Backstreet Boys dude (perhaps this was to hide the fact that I actually liked the Backstreet Boys back then?) In high school I was primarily A.J., and my best friends from this time in my life still elect to call me by that name. My family, on the other hand, usually calls me Andrew. Or they complicate the matter further by calling names like Drew, Ja-Je, Hurrrayyyy-J, Dage (still can't explain this one), Droop-a-loop, and the like.

If you knew me well enough at Cal Poly, you probably knew me as A.J. But of course if you knew me as a work associate, whether it be at Wolf, the SJSRC, IntelliDx, or Spencer's (the grocery store, not the immature joke shop at the mall), you'd call me Andrew. And if you really really knew me in college, you may have even called me the Ghiossi Grill, which is my personal favorite nickname.

And wouldn't you know, this problem has become even more complicated since I shipped out to Taiwan. It is no longer just A.J. and Andrew dueling it out for supremacy of the self. This self-inflicted Dissociative Identity Disorder has worsened. A third persona has entered into the mix--one that goes by two names: Teacher. Andrew. When I walk through the doors at Hess to begin my workday, the switch flips. A.J./Andrew puts away his Ipod that was just seconds ago blazing Living Legends, puts on his "intellectual" pair of bifocals, and suddenly becomes Teacher Andrew.

Teacher Andrew is an interesting fellow. He is similar to A.J. and Andrew, but differs in the fact that he spends the majority of his time with people about half his age. And in no small part, this affects how Teacher Andrew behaves. Because of his seniority over his students, T.A. is pretty confident and sure of himself. Most classes he will construct examples to demonstrate grammar patterns that have something to do with how smart or handsome he is. And the kids love this, only adding to his confidence. T.A. also loves games. He gets supreme enjoyment out of watching his students throw the sticky ball or roll the dice. When students mispronounce a word or speak using incorrect grammar, T.A. doesn't yell or scream at them. Instead he just grimaces in pain like their words have just thrust a dagger into his abdomen. Understanding this cue to mean they screwed up, the students quickly correct themselves, making T.A. transform that grimace into a beaming smile. In his Step Ahead classes with the older students, when topics for the day range from video games to sports to music to movies to literature, T.A. will often share personal information with his students about his favorites in each of those categories. He's been known to whistle the Mario theme song, hate on the Red Sox, sing a little Lady Gaga, talk with a Harry Potter accent, or act out some Lord of the Rings.

And at a time when A.J. and Andrew aren't completely sure of themselves; when they've yet to figure out what the hell exactly it is they want to do with the rest of their lives, this Teacher Andrew character is a good guy to have around. He's confident and knows what he's doing. Or at least it appears that way.

Taroko Gorgeous

It is surely a delight when two of my favorite pastimes and pleasures coincide so beautifully like they did at Taroko Gorge on December 26th (and yes, if you're doing the math on this one--this post is long overdue).

History. Needless to say, I'm a fan. After all, I didn't spend 4 years studying it---or abandon Nutrition (though seemingly there are far more employment opportunities in this field)---to end up with something I don't sincerely enjoy. Do I love all history? Of course not---much of it can be boring. BUT the history that does interest me, I could talk about for days on end. I'll read Doris Kearns Goodwin and watch Smithsonian Channel documentaries until my eyes give out.

Nature. Who doesn't love it? It's beautiful, it's refreshing, it's....natural. Truly there's no better way to escape the stress and business of normal city life than to lose yourself in the splendor of nature's greatest treasures. The varying shades of colors, the fresh air, and the mere scale and complexity of it all is both awe-inspiring and humbling.

In their own regards, both of these aspects factored into my decision to come to Taiwan. Throughout college, I was continually educated on the richness and depth of Chinese history. Indeed, Chinese culture does have thousands of years of history under its belt. "5,000 years of history" Dr Morris would say, of course then pointing out that in reality it's more like 3,500 (but who's counting? And plus it's not like they are the only people to ever exaggerate anything...they have "5,000" years of history sort of like America was the "land of the free" when Francis Scott Key busted out into poetry. Anyways, I digress). Their culture is the culture of the great Han, Song, and Tang Dynasties; the man, the myth, the legend, Confucius; and the actual inventor of the movable type (eat your heart out Johannes Gutenberg).

Taiwan's natural scenery speaks for itself. Even when you find yourself completely immersed in the belly of the concrete jungle that is Taipei, the surrounding green mountains are always within sight. To some extent, I'd already indulged in some of this nature by going on various hikes and explorations. But in reality, the "nature" I saw roaming through Dahu Park, Elephant Mountain, or even DaAn Park paled severely in comparison to what I experienced at Taroko Gorge.

Taroko was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. In reality, words do the place injustice. As do pictures. You really have to see this place to have an understanding of just how amazing and spectacular it is. Yet, amidst all the beauty of Taroko Gorge, I couldn't stop pondering about all the history to the place. And this wasn't like the kind of history you'd come across at Chiang Kai Shek Memorial, the National Palace Museum, or the Confucius Temple. No, this wasn't Taipei by any standard, in all its modernity, commerce, and bustle. This was a purer form of history---natural history. It was Taiwan in a more primitive and pristine light. Here was a valley that was formed over millions of years, carved out by the slow and steady process of erosion, making changes that are only barely visible after thousands and thousands of years. The milky white marble deposits that defined many of the lower walls had formed over millions of years, transformed from limestone after the constant combination of heat and pressure. The stream that ran down the middle was such an extraordinary shade of blue, undoubtedly dyed that color by the slow seeping of said marble deposits into the water. The many boulders that spotted and sometimes even dammed this creek had accumulated due to the thousands of earthquakes and typhoons that have rocked this small island. The mountains that soared above our heads had become higher over time as a result of tectonic plates colliding, and will actually continue to do so. Even the various noises I heard along the journey, ranging from the whistling of the birds to the splashing of the creek, were reminders that this same soundtrack has been playing for an unbelievably long time. And the list goes on and on.

I couldn't help but also thinking about how much human history the Gorge had witnessed; how it has likely scoffed at our vain efforts to achieve relative significance in comparison. Surely the Gorge has had its fair share of laughs at foreigners not unlike myself, who inadvertently bumped their heads along the rather shallow rock overhang while walking distracted and dumbstruck by the beauty of the place. It has also felt the force of several dynamite charges that blew holes in the side of the mountains, allowing those same hiking trails with the dangerously low ceilings to emerge. It has understand our vulnerability and fragility all too well as it has seen so many Taiwanese lose their lives constructing projects such as the Tunnel of Nine Turns. The walls of the mountains have absorbed the countless of number of camera flashes that amazed tourists have taken. It's long provided shelter to many native Taiwanese who have made their living selling weaved goods to tourists like myself, and who have been likely oblivious to technological advances like flash photography.

Of course the humbling thing is that no matter how impressive our human history might be, it can't even be mentioned in the same breath as the history of the Gorge.This gorge was just as beautiful and breath-taking a million years ago, long before any human had the ability to appreciate it. The 3,500 years of Chinese history would be a mere blip on the time line of this place. It was here long before we arrived, and it will be here long after we're gone (provided the world doesn't explode or whatever in 2012).

So now that my words have failed to do this place justice, let's let some pictures follow suit.