A Different Set of Rules

Easter Party Anecdote:

The Easter Party that I got to plan was a very Western style of party; goal was for students to hang out and have fun and get a little dose of culture while they were at it.  Some of the parties I’ve been a part of at Aston or Ouben have been very different than anything one would ever see while teaching in the States.  Then again, teaching and discipline techniques in general are incredibly different from one country to the next as well.

One of the refreshing things about teaching in China is that you can actually share about cultural religious holidays and not worry about offending anyone and brewing up some sort of lawsuit.  You can also touch students here.  You can hug them, pat them on the back or on the head and not be paranoid that you’ll get sued for sexual harassment.  On the other hand, teachers in the public schools sometimes hit students and yell at them rather harshly.  I’ve never heard of any outlandish hitting here the way it used to happen in the U.S., but sometimes while teaching in the primary school or doing promo classes the Chinese teacher might smack a student on the head with a rolled up piece of paper or something to get their attention.  I’ve heard they are doing away with hitting in the classroom though, which is a good thing.  But I certainly don’t envy the Chinese teachers’ job of having to keep a class of 60 – 70 students in line. 

As for parties, I noticed a major difference in policy while I was still teaching at Aston in Hefei.  During one of the parties that they planned, they had various groups of students that would travel from room to room to participate in different party events.  There were about five groups of 10 – 15 students each.  The students were anywhere from 5 – 12 years old, typically on the younger end of the spectrum.  My roommate George was in charge of the Balloon Room.  This room was full of balloons we had all blown up and the students got a balloon tied to their foot and tried to stamp on it.  Not sure what the point of that activity was, but after five groups of students popping balloons, George’s ears were not happy. My other roommate Oly was in charge of the relay race room, and I was in charge of Fruit Salad. 

For Fruit Salad, the Chinese party planners had bought some fruit, some plates, some plastic gloves, and some knives.  My job was to help students learn the names of the fruits, and to then cut up the fruit with the students and make salad for them to eat.  That’s right, five separate groups of young children were going to be using sharp knives to cut cucumbers, apples, pears, bananas and honeydew melon.  No waivers were signed, and none of the teachers or parents seemed to think this was an unusual party activity.  Surprisingly, none of the kids stabbed themselves, stabbed one another or cut off their fingers.  The only close calls were when there were more students than there were knives and the students without knives would get impatient and grab for a knife that another student was using. 

Though the U.S. is overkill on some of their safety regulations, they are there for a reason. Thankfully nothing happened while these little kiddos were wielding these weapons of minor destruction, but it easily could have.  And though political correctness and a constant harping of equality for all can get tiresome, I’ve seen what happens when there is nobody there to argue for those who need it most.  My Chinese friend has a teenage son who suffers from either muscular dystrophy or Myasthenia Gravis.  This essentially means that his brain works, but his body does not.  He is confined to a wheelchair but still attends public school.  His class is on the fourth floor.  There are no ramps or elevators in the school.  Every morning his mother, who is smaller than he is, must carry him on her back up the staircase to his class.  In China all the students go home for lunchtime, so his mother must come back and carry him down the stairs to take him home, and then back up again when lunch is finished.  I guess I was never overly conscious about handicap accessibility much before because it never directly affected me.  After hearing about this story, I don’t think I will ever see a wheelchair symbol without thinking about that family.  And each time I see that symbol and think about that family, I will be thankful that I live in a country that believes it has a responsibility to make access equal to everybody.

Summary: Different places live by different rules.  Things that seem normal in one place may be shocking in another.  Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s downright dangerous.  Whatever the differences are, always remember that they are what make the world an interesting place.