I'm going to start off this post properly. I'm not a writer. I'm not going to explain myself properly in this post, and I'm probably going to end up sounding like an emo little girl. But it's the only way I can express myself.
I'm back from Beijing, and in Davis. After the most intense 9 months of my life, I'm back. I think that they were the best. They were certainly the most memorable. I have never been more changed in 9 months than I have in Beijing. Both physically, and mentally. I grew up in Beijing, and entered adulthood (mentally if not legally, yet.) I have learned how to live, how to operate on my own. I understand more about the world, and how to take care of yourself in it. I learned about life, about people.
I left my friends and my family back home, back in Beijing. I may never see some people ever again. It's the strangest feeling to know that the people I have spent such a long time with, and connected with, I may never see again. That was my life for 9 months, and now it is over. How does something like that just end, with a click of a mouse, and a plane ride home?
It's surreal, almost. Like an out of body experience. Even if Davis hasn't been home for a couple of years, it is still the place where I have felt the most comfortable. It's been a waiting place for me, and in between, one where I simply have to deal until my next big adventure. It isn't home for me, but it's familiar. I look at all my things, and think, that is my bed, or... those are my books. But it doesn't feel like they are mine. This doesn't feel like my life. Neither my bed nor my books belong in the life I have created for myself over the past 9 months. I feel like I am living in a twin's life or something. But definitely not mine. I feel like I am just on a vacation, and I will be going back to Beijing, and 新街口外大街 in no time. I mean, this can't be my life now, can it?
Now that I am back from Beijing, Davis is still the same, except with one major difference. Now, it almost scares me. The familiarity of it, and normalness of all of it, terrifies me more then the unfamiliarity Beijing ever did. I'm not sure if terror is the right word, as I am not afraid to go out of the house or anything. I just don't know what to do with myself now. Don't know what to expect. I can no longer live the life that I have been used to for 9 months. Beijing felt more like home to me than any place I have ever been in. I don't know what to expect from Davis. I don't feel comfortable here, not anymore. It's more than just feeling out of place. It's more than reverse culture shock. Hell, it's more than just missing Beijing. I just keep asking myself, what am I doing here? Why am I wasting my time here?
I know that this all sounds very emo, and depressed. I'm not emo, and I'm not depressed. I am simply trying to figure out why I feel the way I do, why I can't seem to understand how to live in Davis again. I can't be the only one who feels this way. I love you all. :)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Falling In Love With My Work
This is basically a translation of the speech that I had to say, and this is an essay I wrote for English about something we learned on the last trip.
It was hot, a heavy, hot heat that comes more from humidity then from the actual temperature. I could feel it pushing on my lungs, and the sweat already running down my back, even though it had only been 20 minutes since we had stepped out of the house. The sparse shade from trees hanging over the small path we were walking on did little to relieve the sun, and I could feel that the temperature was only going to keep rising. My and Julia’s small host father bounded ahead of us on the path, buckets barely swinging on the end of a bamboo pole balanced across his shoulders, and acting like the heat and the hill was absolutely no trouble at all. At this particular moment, watching our dad lead the way, there were only 3 things that Julia and I knew for certain: 1) it was hot, and we had only one water bottle, 2) we were going to work in the fields with our host dad and 3) we had absolutely no idea where we were going, or what we were going to do.
We were in a Dai village in Guizhou, following our host dad out to do work with him in the fields. The night before this march into the wilderness, Mr. Bissell had made it clear that all the SYA students were to go out with their host families to work, much like the intellectuals did when they were banished to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. However, when Julia and I had come out of our bedroom in the morning, and asked our family what we were doing for the day, they simply told us to go explore on our own, that we didn’t need to work. That point of view was quickly changed after a brisk conversation between my host dad and Zhang Laoshi.
We arrived at a small hut in the middle of the hills after an hour long walk. Our dad let the cow inside out of the hut and free to roam (cared for by another Chinese man), and picked up the 4 woven baskets we had carried to start loading them up with huge piles of wet, decaying feces and straw. Each one must have easily weighed 20 pounds, and he picked them up like he was carrying loaves of bread. With a smile and a laugh, he handed a pole laden with filled buckets to Julia, who dutifully hoisted them onto her shoulders with a grimace at the weight, while our dad went around the back of the shed to get his burden. With me documenting the whole trip on my camera, the three of us set off across small hills to dump massive amounts of manure into fields for fertilization.
After Julia had finished her ordeal, we went back, filled up the buckets again, and then it was my turn. The bamboo pole seemed to push unrelentlessly into my shoulders, and it was heavy and uncomfortable. I could imagine myself toppling sideways off the small path we had to follow (which was lined by rather unpleasant looking embankments.) I dumped my load of feces in a field, and then walked back to rest at the cow enclosure, as my dad was tired. He lay his scrawny body down on the ground, and almost fell asleep, complaining of being exhausted to death. I don’t know how he kept hauling huge buckets of cow manure up mountains. I could barely do it once.
After a 30 minutes break, we convinced my dad, with great effort, to start again. There was not a lot of spirit in his body or voice as, with a great sigh and complaint, he dragged himself around the corner of the enclosure, and started filling up the buckets again. It was plainly obvious he did not want to be there. Julia took another load, the same way we had both gone the first time (to the same field) and then it was my turn, for the last time. Julia offered to carry it again (maybe she is secretly a physic) but I insisted on doing it myself. I picked up the bamboo pole, and balancing it across both shoulders, felt it sit on the exact same spot as it had last time, putting more pressure onto my already sore shoulder muscles. I could already tell that I should have let Julia take the last load of cow manure.
This time, as we walked to the field, our dad led us a different way, along a path with small paddies on the left, and an irrigation ditch 10 feet blow to the right. As I watched my dad balance his pole on one shoulder elegantly, I thought that must be so much easier and more comfortable, and decided to try to imitate him. I was worried about balance, but it wasn’t a problem, and as it turned out, it is actually easier to balance the buckets on one shoulder then on two. So elated with my success, I turned to tell Julia how much better it was, excited to show off my new-found talents. This turned out to be a very bad idea. As I turned to talk to Julia, I kept walking. As I put one foot down, I seemed to lose track of the ground. Suddenly, it was no longer where my foot was, and I went down. Hard.
Both I and the cow manure fell down the embankment. I wasn’t worried about the cow manure that fell on either side of me, though. I was simply worried about not falling into the water that was at the end of the embankment. Desperately grabbing handfuls of reeds and hanging on for all I was worth, I slowed my fall, and eventually stopped myself, hanging upside down, 5 feet above the water. Julia and my dad, after assuring themselves that I was okay, (it wasn’t hard to convince them, as I was trying to stop laughing) soon joined me in laughter, and we all paused so we could catch our breaths. Then, without much ado, I heaved myself off of the embankment, much like a swimmer pulling themselves out of the pool.
I could feel my face blushing bright red as I brushed off pieces of debris that had attached themselves to my clothes while my host dad and Julia watched, with laughter in their eyes. Immediately, thinking only of my wounded pride, I made both Julia and my dad swear to not tell anyone. My dad, however, thinking he was very clever indeed, agreed to keep the secret, and then used the local dialect to tell every person we passed. So much for family loyalty.
This story, while seemingly well natured, taught me a very good lesson. Moral of the story: always watch where you are going, and always laugh off the embarrassing stuff. Everyone has embarrassing things that happen to them, and the best way to deal with them is to laugh. I have had this experience many times, but for once, I found myself actually wanting to tell the story. I feel like that experience of me falling down the embankment with two buckets of cow manure helped me let go of my pride, and simply enjoy my life.
It was hot, a heavy, hot heat that comes more from humidity then from the actual temperature. I could feel it pushing on my lungs, and the sweat already running down my back, even though it had only been 20 minutes since we had stepped out of the house. The sparse shade from trees hanging over the small path we were walking on did little to relieve the sun, and I could feel that the temperature was only going to keep rising. My and Julia’s small host father bounded ahead of us on the path, buckets barely swinging on the end of a bamboo pole balanced across his shoulders, and acting like the heat and the hill was absolutely no trouble at all. At this particular moment, watching our dad lead the way, there were only 3 things that Julia and I knew for certain: 1) it was hot, and we had only one water bottle, 2) we were going to work in the fields with our host dad and 3) we had absolutely no idea where we were going, or what we were going to do.
We were in a Dai village in Guizhou, following our host dad out to do work with him in the fields. The night before this march into the wilderness, Mr. Bissell had made it clear that all the SYA students were to go out with their host families to work, much like the intellectuals did when they were banished to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. However, when Julia and I had come out of our bedroom in the morning, and asked our family what we were doing for the day, they simply told us to go explore on our own, that we didn’t need to work. That point of view was quickly changed after a brisk conversation between my host dad and Zhang Laoshi.
We arrived at a small hut in the middle of the hills after an hour long walk. Our dad let the cow inside out of the hut and free to roam (cared for by another Chinese man), and picked up the 4 woven baskets we had carried to start loading them up with huge piles of wet, decaying feces and straw. Each one must have easily weighed 20 pounds, and he picked them up like he was carrying loaves of bread. With a smile and a laugh, he handed a pole laden with filled buckets to Julia, who dutifully hoisted them onto her shoulders with a grimace at the weight, while our dad went around the back of the shed to get his burden. With me documenting the whole trip on my camera, the three of us set off across small hills to dump massive amounts of manure into fields for fertilization.
After Julia had finished her ordeal, we went back, filled up the buckets again, and then it was my turn. The bamboo pole seemed to push unrelentlessly into my shoulders, and it was heavy and uncomfortable. I could imagine myself toppling sideways off the small path we had to follow (which was lined by rather unpleasant looking embankments.) I dumped my load of feces in a field, and then walked back to rest at the cow enclosure, as my dad was tired. He lay his scrawny body down on the ground, and almost fell asleep, complaining of being exhausted to death. I don’t know how he kept hauling huge buckets of cow manure up mountains. I could barely do it once.
After a 30 minutes break, we convinced my dad, with great effort, to start again. There was not a lot of spirit in his body or voice as, with a great sigh and complaint, he dragged himself around the corner of the enclosure, and started filling up the buckets again. It was plainly obvious he did not want to be there. Julia took another load, the same way we had both gone the first time (to the same field) and then it was my turn, for the last time. Julia offered to carry it again (maybe she is secretly a physic) but I insisted on doing it myself. I picked up the bamboo pole, and balancing it across both shoulders, felt it sit on the exact same spot as it had last time, putting more pressure onto my already sore shoulder muscles. I could already tell that I should have let Julia take the last load of cow manure.
This time, as we walked to the field, our dad led us a different way, along a path with small paddies on the left, and an irrigation ditch 10 feet blow to the right. As I watched my dad balance his pole on one shoulder elegantly, I thought that must be so much easier and more comfortable, and decided to try to imitate him. I was worried about balance, but it wasn’t a problem, and as it turned out, it is actually easier to balance the buckets on one shoulder then on two. So elated with my success, I turned to tell Julia how much better it was, excited to show off my new-found talents. This turned out to be a very bad idea. As I turned to talk to Julia, I kept walking. As I put one foot down, I seemed to lose track of the ground. Suddenly, it was no longer where my foot was, and I went down. Hard.
Both I and the cow manure fell down the embankment. I wasn’t worried about the cow manure that fell on either side of me, though. I was simply worried about not falling into the water that was at the end of the embankment. Desperately grabbing handfuls of reeds and hanging on for all I was worth, I slowed my fall, and eventually stopped myself, hanging upside down, 5 feet above the water. Julia and my dad, after assuring themselves that I was okay, (it wasn’t hard to convince them, as I was trying to stop laughing) soon joined me in laughter, and we all paused so we could catch our breaths. Then, without much ado, I heaved myself off of the embankment, much like a swimmer pulling themselves out of the pool.
I could feel my face blushing bright red as I brushed off pieces of debris that had attached themselves to my clothes while my host dad and Julia watched, with laughter in their eyes. Immediately, thinking only of my wounded pride, I made both Julia and my dad swear to not tell anyone. My dad, however, thinking he was very clever indeed, agreed to keep the secret, and then used the local dialect to tell every person we passed. So much for family loyalty.
This story, while seemingly well natured, taught me a very good lesson. Moral of the story: always watch where you are going, and always laugh off the embarrassing stuff. Everyone has embarrassing things that happen to them, and the best way to deal with them is to laugh. I have had this experience many times, but for once, I found myself actually wanting to tell the story. I feel like that experience of me falling down the embankment with two buckets of cow manure helped me let go of my pride, and simply enjoy my life.
Speech Festival Speech
This was my speech for the speech festival, where we had to get up in front of 70 people and say a speech in Chinese, for 3 minutes.
大家好。我叫苏菲，我是丁班的学生。今天，我要告诉你们一个这次旅行的故事。在第一个小村子的时候，毕老师要我们体验一下农民的生活和他们一起做一样的工作。晚上的时候，我和王芸以为我们的爸爸会带我们两个去干活，但是第二天早上我们发现他不打算带我们出去。我们问他的时候，爸爸说“你们不用去干活，可以自己去玩儿。”但是，张老师和他谈过话以后，他很快改变他的主意，决定带我们去干活。
毕老师告诉我和王芸我们要去挑牛粪，我们以为他只是开玩笑。当我和王芸和我们的爸爸挑桶的时候，我们以为去采摘水果或采摘蔬菜。后来我们走了很长时间，差不多45分钟以后，我们到了一个小木棚。我们的爸爸让里面的牛出去。然后他开始把牛粪放到桶里，把那个桶挂在扁担上。王芸先挑竹桶，跟着我们的爸爸到一块田地.在那里，我们把粪倒在地里，然后回小木棚。我的爸爸再把牛粪放在桶里，我再挑一桶到那里。
挑了两次以后，我们的爸爸特别累，所以他说他得休息。半个小时以后，我们说服他继续工作。王芸先挑，然后我们回去。最后轮到我挑。我的爸爸把牛粪放在桶里，然后我们把桶挑到田地里。但是，这次我们走的路跟以前不一样，我们要去别的田地。那些桶特别重，所以我的肩膀很疼，我走路走得不太稳。我重新调整 肩上桶的时候，我转过头想和王芸说话。这是个不太好的想法，因为我一边走路一边说话。身体失去了平衡，我们的右边是一个水塘我从小路上摔了下去。还好我掉下去的时候，手抓住了芦苇虽然我没有掉进水塘，可我还是头下脚上地摔倒在路边。王芸和我的我的爸爸很紧张，他们以为我摔得很严重，但是他们看到我笑的时候，他们也大笑起来，然后一起把我拉回小路。
我很不好意思，所以我告诉我的爸爸和王芸这件事要保密，不能对别人讲。但是我们回小村子的时候，我爸爸用苗语告诉每一个人。虽然我听不懂他们在讲什么，可是看到他们看着我笑时，我就知道在小村子里，你不会有秘密。
这次旅行给我很留下很深的印象。我很喜欢这里朴实的农民，喜欢这个古朴的小村子。我喜欢中国！谢谢大家。
大家好。我叫苏菲，我是丁班的学生。今天，我要告诉你们一个这次旅行的故事。在第一个小村子的时候，毕老师要我们体验一下农民的生活和他们一起做一样的工作。晚上的时候，我和王芸以为我们的爸爸会带我们两个去干活，但是第二天早上我们发现他不打算带我们出去。我们问他的时候，爸爸说“你们不用去干活，可以自己去玩儿。”但是，张老师和他谈过话以后，他很快改变他的主意，决定带我们去干活。
毕老师告诉我和王芸我们要去挑牛粪，我们以为他只是开玩笑。当我和王芸和我们的爸爸挑桶的时候，我们以为去采摘水果或采摘蔬菜。后来我们走了很长时间，差不多45分钟以后，我们到了一个小木棚。我们的爸爸让里面的牛出去。然后他开始把牛粪放到桶里，把那个桶挂在扁担上。王芸先挑竹桶，跟着我们的爸爸到一块田地.在那里，我们把粪倒在地里，然后回小木棚。我的爸爸再把牛粪放在桶里，我再挑一桶到那里。
挑了两次以后，我们的爸爸特别累，所以他说他得休息。半个小时以后，我们说服他继续工作。王芸先挑，然后我们回去。最后轮到我挑。我的爸爸把牛粪放在桶里，然后我们把桶挑到田地里。但是，这次我们走的路跟以前不一样，我们要去别的田地。那些桶特别重，所以我的肩膀很疼，我走路走得不太稳。我重新调整 肩上桶的时候，我转过头想和王芸说话。这是个不太好的想法，因为我一边走路一边说话。身体失去了平衡，我们的右边是一个水塘我从小路上摔了下去。还好我掉下去的时候，手抓住了芦苇虽然我没有掉进水塘，可我还是头下脚上地摔倒在路边。王芸和我的我的爸爸很紧张，他们以为我摔得很严重，但是他们看到我笑的时候，他们也大笑起来，然后一起把我拉回小路。
我很不好意思，所以我告诉我的爸爸和王芸这件事要保密，不能对别人讲。但是我们回小村子的时候，我爸爸用苗语告诉每一个人。虽然我听不懂他们在讲什么，可是看到他们看着我笑时，我就知道在小村子里，你不会有秘密。
这次旅行给我很留下很深的印象。我很喜欢这里朴实的农民，喜欢这个古朴的小村子。我喜欢中国！谢谢大家。
Friday, April 10, 2009
Homework? No Thank you.
So, I have some catching up to do. This blog is actually going to be about 3 days ago, on Wednesday, because I was far too lazy to write about it after I got home. Please excuse me.
Normally, every Wednesday, school gets out at 12:15, and then I hang around with nothing to do until 2 for a music lesson, and the go home. However, I had no music lesson today (which my friend had to tell me, my teacher didn't even text me) and it was such a beautiful day, I wanted to go out and do something, just go out.
Normally, every Wednesday, school gets out at 12:15, and then I hang around with nothing to do until 2 for a music lesson, and the go home. However, I had no music lesson today (which my friend had to tell me, my teacher didn't even text me) and it was such a beautiful day, I wanted to go out and do something, just go out.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Random Thoughts from a Frazzled Mind
I can barely remember the last week. As a matter of fact, I don't want to. There were some nice parts, I'm not going to lie. I had a girls day/night out last weekend. My friends and I met up, and we went shopping, got our hair done, got our nails done, and then went out for a nice dinner. I, of course, put all the pictures up on facebook. :)
This week though, I have been hit with some of the worst home sickness I have ever had. I've never felt so lonely before. It's pretty shitty. I know logically that I will get over it, and it does come and go in waves, but still, I'm almost scared how bad I feel. At least I know why it is called homesickness.
I am going on a five day immersion, starting this afternoon. Meaning I have to take a language pledge, and I am going to be living in a school that is about an hour an a half north of Beijing, on the other side of the Great Wall. It should be fun. Talk to you all when I get back!
This week though, I have been hit with some of the worst home sickness I have ever had. I've never felt so lonely before. It's pretty shitty. I know logically that I will get over it, and it does come and go in waves, but still, I'm almost scared how bad I feel. At least I know why it is called homesickness.
I am going on a five day immersion, starting this afternoon. Meaning I have to take a language pledge, and I am going to be living in a school that is about an hour an a half north of Beijing, on the other side of the Great Wall. It should be fun. Talk to you all when I get back!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Read and Enjoy
This is an essay I wrote for history about my trip to Yunnan a month ago. We were supposed to pick a focus, and write a travel essay about it. I'm not going to post the sources, because there are way too many, but I do have them.
7:30 AM on a dark Monday morning. The sun is still rising, not even letting us, 51 American students in the middle of Jinghong, get a clear view of the Chinese high school we are about to attend. The cold of the morning touches every bit of my body not covered, and sets to work trying to freeze my still damp hair. Our teacher (马老师) calls out students names in groups of 4-9 and corresponding classroom number, points to the general direction our classroom is in, and sends us on our way, free into the madness of a Chinese high school. Once my group arrives in classroom 130, most of the 12th grade Chinese students are already there, studying for their next class. (Their classes start at 8 in the morning, and sometimes don’t end until 9:45 at night.) There is an awkward, pregnant pause as we enter, 9 foreign faces amongst 16 Chinese ones. There is only 10 minutes to scope out the “other side”: their clothes, their mannerisms, and their speech. It is awkward, watching everyone else, and what they are doing, and seeing who has the courage to make contact first: the Chinese in their matching blue, white and red uniforms, or us, 9 half asleep Americans. Then it is time to stand up, greet the Physics teacher, and begin the first class of the day in Jinghong #1 City High School.
We were in a 理科 (science oriented) class, as opposed to a 文科 (humanities/liberal arts oriented.) The science track takes Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Math, Chinese and English class, while the humanities class takes Chinese, English, Politics, History, Geography and Math (both tracks require Chinese, English and Math). As soon as students start their high school education, they have to pick which track (science or liberal arts) to study, but they do not necessarily have to follow that same track once in college. Generally, there are more boys in the sciences track, and more girls in the humanities and liberal arts track, and this is definitely true in Jinghong.
Jinghong #1 City High-School (or 景洪市一中 in Mandarin) is the 3rd best high school in Jinghong, a city in the extreme Southern corner of Yunnan, the province in China’s extreme Southwest corner (so overall, this is the “deep South”). Yunnan is a diverse place, with at least 25 out of 55 Chinese ethnic minorities living inside its borders . Yunnan’s total population is approximately 42.88 million , with an ethnic population of over 14.33 million (about 34%). Its temperate, tropical climate (described as 4 seasons of Spring) makes it the perfect place to grow tobacco, sugar cane, and tea, which are an important part of Yunnan’s economy. Indeed, it is in the county of Xishuangbanna (西双版纳)-in the southern most corner of Yunnan- that the famous Puer tea is grown, harvested, and sold wholesale.
Jinghong, known as the political, economic and cultural center of the Xishuangbanna prefecture, is the home to 10-13 ethnic minorities , and approximately 380,000 people . It borders the West bank of the Mekong River, just north of Myanmar and Laos. A very laid back place, Jinghong’s streets are lined with palm trees and plants, and it seems like every side walk in the whole city is under construction, by workers who are either taking a smoke break, or asleep by their wheel barrows. Down every street and alley way, there is a Thai man screaming at you to come look at his “real” jade bracelets, or someone inviting you into their shop to look at wood carvings of elephants and dragons.
While this is all new and strange for a foreigner living in China (especially one who lives in Beijing, Jinghong’s polar opposite) it is home (and therefore normal) for the school kids here, and they are quite unlike any other Chinese kids I have ever met (at least, the ones I have met in Beijing). Most of the high school kids we are with in Beijing are very school/study oriented, and have almost no time for anything else. Here in Jinghong, the opposite is true; this isn’t to say that kids in Jinghong don’t study or value school, but in Jinghong, they have a much more relaxed attitude about the Gaokao, which is the high school exit exam and College entrance exam. Most of them have accepted that they will not score high enough on the Gaokao to go to a really competitive school (such as Beida or Qinghua), so they use their time to enjoy their beautiful city.
The Gaokao (高考 in Chinese) is often likened to the SAT, but only because both tests are both required for college applications. That is about where the similarities end. As one journalist put it “ {The Gaokao is} China’s SAT, if the SAT lasted two days, covered everything you’d ever studied, and decided your future.” It’s an examination aimed at testing how much you can remember, and how well you test. When taking the Gaokao, every student is required to take a foreign language – normally English - (no speaking, just listening and writing), Chinese, and math. Students can then pick up to 3 other tests (at least one is required) to take, depending on what they feel strongest in. In China, every school kid begins to prepare for this test in the beginning of his or her high school career (although you could go as far as to say they start in junior high, as that is the basis for much of the information kids are tested on). Every school’s curriculum is aimed at preparing their students to take the Gaokao. Parents in the country side will send their children to better schools in a city for junior high and high school education, so that they will test better on the Gaokao.
罗优莎, or Rosa as she told me to call her, is one of these children. Her family is originally from a small Lahu ethnic minority village about 6 hours out of Jinghong, and her parents are still there (she has no siblings). She lives with her aunt (her dad’s older sister) an easy 2-kilometer walk from her school. Every day during the lunch break, she would walk home, eat lunch, take a nap, and then walk back to school to start class. A girl of about 5’7”, with a round face always ready with a smile, she was happy to talk to me, the foreigner who could barely manage tones in Chinese. She answered every one of my monotonous and boring questions as honestly as she could, especially the ones regarding the dreaded Gaokao (which students can only take once a year, adding to the already intense pressure.) When asked about her initial views of the Gaokao, she immediately said that it was fair and just. This was the exact opposite of the response I expected to get from her, as the Gaokao is extremely tough, and is biased towards certain students in special situations.
The Gaokao’s intensity has roots stretching far back into the past. Many scholars assert that the Gaokao is the modern version of the Chinese Civil Service Exam, which was in place for thousands of years (although it ended in 1905 just before the overthrow of the Qing dynasty.) The Civil Service Exam was a test that people had to pass to become a scholar or part of China’s gentry. It was based on Confucian teachings and values, requiring at least 10 years of study, and forced memorization of many Confucian classics, and long-winded poems (which would later have to be referenced in the test.) The score on the Civil Service Exam also determined what job in government a person would receive, as the test was a test of how well a person could govern. But it was not easy to do well on these exams. In fact, during the Tang Dynasty, the pass rate was only 2%. Candidates would be locked into an examination room with a bed, a desk, a chair, and the test, and not let out until they were done (which sometimes was not for 2 or 3 days.) This drove many of the candidates to death and insanity.
Although the Gaokao is obviously a big change from the Civil Service Exam, there are still many elements that were left over from the Civil Service Exam that the Gaokao still has. For example, the Gaokao is still a test based on memorization: the memorization of everything a student has learned since the beginning of high school (instead of Confucian classics.) Hence much of what is learned in high school is aimed at teaching students just for the test, not to prepare them for the real world. It is a major test at the end of the year, lasting for 3 days, all day long. Even the purpose is still the same: the score you get on the Gaokao determines what college you get into, just like how the score on the Civil Service Exam determined what sort of job a person would get in government.
Yet unlike the Civil Service Exam, many of the strategies implemented in trying to make the Gaokao unbiased in fact accomplish the exact opposite. For example, if the student taking it belongs to an ethnic minority (and they indicate that on the test) they automatically get 100 points added to their test (each test is graded out of 900 points ). This is in an effort to bridge the gap between minority and majority ethnic groups. But to Han people, who don’t get extra points, this is seen as unfair. There is also another, less advertised bias. If the student taking the Gaokao lives in Beijing (for example) and applies to Beijing University, then their required score to get into that university (one of the best in China) is far less (almost 100 points less) then it would be if a student from Yunnan, for example, applied to the same school. This is simply because that student from Beijing already lives in Beijing, and wants to go to college there. The flipside would also be true for a Yunnan and Beijing student applying to school in Yunnan (the student from Yunnan would be given preference –therefore a lower required score.)
I asked Rosa, my friend from Jinghong, why, considering all these things, she still thought the Gaokao was fair. The only answer I got from her was that in the end, it tested how well a student could test, and how much material that student could memorize (which she believed directly correlates to how smart a person is, and indeed is the main point of the Gaokao.)
Still confused, I turned to her classmate 刘茜 (Liu Qian), who quickly became my best friend. Liu Qian was a Dai ethnic minority student, living in Jinghong with her parents. Because her favorite class is math, she chose the science track in school, and excelled. Telling me that she wants to move to Chongqing and become a doctor, she’s nervous for the Gaokao, and anxious to get a good score. It didn’t help that she didn’t think she would do well, and was not ignorant of the fact that if she wanted to go to a good school, she would have to score much better then students receiving a better education than her (like students in Beijing, or Shanghai). She too believes that the Gaokao is a fair, and an impersonal judge of a person’s ability to succeed. She said she didn’t necessarily want to score high enough to go to school in Beijing, she just wanted to be able to go to her #1 school, which was in Chong Qing. They way she said it made it seem like this was her back up school, because she knew she couldn’t test well enough to get into a Beijing university.
As the day (and our trip) wound to an end in the tropical city of Jinghong, I realized just how much the Gaokao was a part of Chinese high schools students’ lives. Every night, when I went with my friends, they would always say that they could have fun, but later, they would be going home to study. Amidst the palm trees and jade shops was a struggle by students to further themselves in life, and to beat the system of tests that they are bound to. And as I walked out of the paved, palm tree lined way of the school, I couldn’t help but be thankful that the dreaded Gaokao would never be part of my life.
As a side note, I only got a B+ on this essay. 不好意思 I thought I did better then that. :(
7:30 AM on a dark Monday morning. The sun is still rising, not even letting us, 51 American students in the middle of Jinghong, get a clear view of the Chinese high school we are about to attend. The cold of the morning touches every bit of my body not covered, and sets to work trying to freeze my still damp hair. Our teacher (马老师) calls out students names in groups of 4-9 and corresponding classroom number, points to the general direction our classroom is in, and sends us on our way, free into the madness of a Chinese high school. Once my group arrives in classroom 130, most of the 12th grade Chinese students are already there, studying for their next class. (Their classes start at 8 in the morning, and sometimes don’t end until 9:45 at night.) There is an awkward, pregnant pause as we enter, 9 foreign faces amongst 16 Chinese ones. There is only 10 minutes to scope out the “other side”: their clothes, their mannerisms, and their speech. It is awkward, watching everyone else, and what they are doing, and seeing who has the courage to make contact first: the Chinese in their matching blue, white and red uniforms, or us, 9 half asleep Americans. Then it is time to stand up, greet the Physics teacher, and begin the first class of the day in Jinghong #1 City High School.
We were in a 理科 (science oriented) class, as opposed to a 文科 (humanities/liberal arts oriented.) The science track takes Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Math, Chinese and English class, while the humanities class takes Chinese, English, Politics, History, Geography and Math (both tracks require Chinese, English and Math). As soon as students start their high school education, they have to pick which track (science or liberal arts) to study, but they do not necessarily have to follow that same track once in college. Generally, there are more boys in the sciences track, and more girls in the humanities and liberal arts track, and this is definitely true in Jinghong.
Jinghong #1 City High-School (or 景洪市一中 in Mandarin) is the 3rd best high school in Jinghong, a city in the extreme Southern corner of Yunnan, the province in China’s extreme Southwest corner (so overall, this is the “deep South”). Yunnan is a diverse place, with at least 25 out of 55 Chinese ethnic minorities living inside its borders . Yunnan’s total population is approximately 42.88 million , with an ethnic population of over 14.33 million (about 34%). Its temperate, tropical climate (described as 4 seasons of Spring) makes it the perfect place to grow tobacco, sugar cane, and tea, which are an important part of Yunnan’s economy. Indeed, it is in the county of Xishuangbanna (西双版纳)-in the southern most corner of Yunnan- that the famous Puer tea is grown, harvested, and sold wholesale.
Jinghong, known as the political, economic and cultural center of the Xishuangbanna prefecture, is the home to 10-13 ethnic minorities , and approximately 380,000 people . It borders the West bank of the Mekong River, just north of Myanmar and Laos. A very laid back place, Jinghong’s streets are lined with palm trees and plants, and it seems like every side walk in the whole city is under construction, by workers who are either taking a smoke break, or asleep by their wheel barrows. Down every street and alley way, there is a Thai man screaming at you to come look at his “real” jade bracelets, or someone inviting you into their shop to look at wood carvings of elephants and dragons.
While this is all new and strange for a foreigner living in China (especially one who lives in Beijing, Jinghong’s polar opposite) it is home (and therefore normal) for the school kids here, and they are quite unlike any other Chinese kids I have ever met (at least, the ones I have met in Beijing). Most of the high school kids we are with in Beijing are very school/study oriented, and have almost no time for anything else. Here in Jinghong, the opposite is true; this isn’t to say that kids in Jinghong don’t study or value school, but in Jinghong, they have a much more relaxed attitude about the Gaokao, which is the high school exit exam and College entrance exam. Most of them have accepted that they will not score high enough on the Gaokao to go to a really competitive school (such as Beida or Qinghua), so they use their time to enjoy their beautiful city.
The Gaokao (高考 in Chinese) is often likened to the SAT, but only because both tests are both required for college applications. That is about where the similarities end. As one journalist put it “ {The Gaokao is} China’s SAT, if the SAT lasted two days, covered everything you’d ever studied, and decided your future.” It’s an examination aimed at testing how much you can remember, and how well you test. When taking the Gaokao, every student is required to take a foreign language – normally English - (no speaking, just listening and writing), Chinese, and math. Students can then pick up to 3 other tests (at least one is required) to take, depending on what they feel strongest in. In China, every school kid begins to prepare for this test in the beginning of his or her high school career (although you could go as far as to say they start in junior high, as that is the basis for much of the information kids are tested on). Every school’s curriculum is aimed at preparing their students to take the Gaokao. Parents in the country side will send their children to better schools in a city for junior high and high school education, so that they will test better on the Gaokao.
罗优莎, or Rosa as she told me to call her, is one of these children. Her family is originally from a small Lahu ethnic minority village about 6 hours out of Jinghong, and her parents are still there (she has no siblings). She lives with her aunt (her dad’s older sister) an easy 2-kilometer walk from her school. Every day during the lunch break, she would walk home, eat lunch, take a nap, and then walk back to school to start class. A girl of about 5’7”, with a round face always ready with a smile, she was happy to talk to me, the foreigner who could barely manage tones in Chinese. She answered every one of my monotonous and boring questions as honestly as she could, especially the ones regarding the dreaded Gaokao (which students can only take once a year, adding to the already intense pressure.) When asked about her initial views of the Gaokao, she immediately said that it was fair and just. This was the exact opposite of the response I expected to get from her, as the Gaokao is extremely tough, and is biased towards certain students in special situations.
The Gaokao’s intensity has roots stretching far back into the past. Many scholars assert that the Gaokao is the modern version of the Chinese Civil Service Exam, which was in place for thousands of years (although it ended in 1905 just before the overthrow of the Qing dynasty.) The Civil Service Exam was a test that people had to pass to become a scholar or part of China’s gentry. It was based on Confucian teachings and values, requiring at least 10 years of study, and forced memorization of many Confucian classics, and long-winded poems (which would later have to be referenced in the test.) The score on the Civil Service Exam also determined what job in government a person would receive, as the test was a test of how well a person could govern. But it was not easy to do well on these exams. In fact, during the Tang Dynasty, the pass rate was only 2%. Candidates would be locked into an examination room with a bed, a desk, a chair, and the test, and not let out until they were done (which sometimes was not for 2 or 3 days.) This drove many of the candidates to death and insanity.
Although the Gaokao is obviously a big change from the Civil Service Exam, there are still many elements that were left over from the Civil Service Exam that the Gaokao still has. For example, the Gaokao is still a test based on memorization: the memorization of everything a student has learned since the beginning of high school (instead of Confucian classics.) Hence much of what is learned in high school is aimed at teaching students just for the test, not to prepare them for the real world. It is a major test at the end of the year, lasting for 3 days, all day long. Even the purpose is still the same: the score you get on the Gaokao determines what college you get into, just like how the score on the Civil Service Exam determined what sort of job a person would get in government.
Yet unlike the Civil Service Exam, many of the strategies implemented in trying to make the Gaokao unbiased in fact accomplish the exact opposite. For example, if the student taking it belongs to an ethnic minority (and they indicate that on the test) they automatically get 100 points added to their test (each test is graded out of 900 points ). This is in an effort to bridge the gap between minority and majority ethnic groups. But to Han people, who don’t get extra points, this is seen as unfair. There is also another, less advertised bias. If the student taking the Gaokao lives in Beijing (for example) and applies to Beijing University, then their required score to get into that university (one of the best in China) is far less (almost 100 points less) then it would be if a student from Yunnan, for example, applied to the same school. This is simply because that student from Beijing already lives in Beijing, and wants to go to college there. The flipside would also be true for a Yunnan and Beijing student applying to school in Yunnan (the student from Yunnan would be given preference –therefore a lower required score.)
I asked Rosa, my friend from Jinghong, why, considering all these things, she still thought the Gaokao was fair. The only answer I got from her was that in the end, it tested how well a student could test, and how much material that student could memorize (which she believed directly correlates to how smart a person is, and indeed is the main point of the Gaokao.)
Still confused, I turned to her classmate 刘茜 (Liu Qian), who quickly became my best friend. Liu Qian was a Dai ethnic minority student, living in Jinghong with her parents. Because her favorite class is math, she chose the science track in school, and excelled. Telling me that she wants to move to Chongqing and become a doctor, she’s nervous for the Gaokao, and anxious to get a good score. It didn’t help that she didn’t think she would do well, and was not ignorant of the fact that if she wanted to go to a good school, she would have to score much better then students receiving a better education than her (like students in Beijing, or Shanghai). She too believes that the Gaokao is a fair, and an impersonal judge of a person’s ability to succeed. She said she didn’t necessarily want to score high enough to go to school in Beijing, she just wanted to be able to go to her #1 school, which was in Chong Qing. They way she said it made it seem like this was her back up school, because she knew she couldn’t test well enough to get into a Beijing university.
As the day (and our trip) wound to an end in the tropical city of Jinghong, I realized just how much the Gaokao was a part of Chinese high schools students’ lives. Every night, when I went with my friends, they would always say that they could have fun, but later, they would be going home to study. Amidst the palm trees and jade shops was a struggle by students to further themselves in life, and to beat the system of tests that they are bound to. And as I walked out of the paved, palm tree lined way of the school, I couldn’t help but be thankful that the dreaded Gaokao would never be part of my life.
As a side note, I only got a B+ on this essay. 不好意思 I thought I did better then that. :(
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Walk Till You Drop
Today started out not looking too bright. I had to go meet the rest of my class at the Military Museum (军事博物馆) as a class field trip because we are reading the Red Sorghum right now. That is, in case you haven't read it, an extremely gory book that follows the accounts of one boy through the War of Resistance against Japan. Some of the stuff you read in this book actually makes me nauseous.
We went to see the exhibit for the Wars against Japan, but, of course, it was closed. Considering the planning, I am actually not at all surprised. We all thought it was extremely ironic, and no one could help but laugh when we realized that it was closed. I stayed my obligated hour, and looked around at the impressive display of old Communist weapons and statues, before my stomach got the best of me, and I encouraged the rest of my group that we should leave to go find something to eat.
We decided to head in the direction of the Animal Market, which is an amazing market selling all kinds of animals. A friend of ours, Warren, had gone a couple days ago, claiming it was pretty cool, so Jamie, Julia, George, Stephanie and I decided that we should check it out for ourselves, just to make sure. We found it after a short walk from the subway station, and started looking around. From the road, it just looks like a short section of a couple of shops, but in actuality stretches through the equivalent of 2 city blocks of hutongs. It's incredible.
The whole front section sold puppies and kittens and some fish. We saw a fight over something (by the puppy section) but none of us dared to summon up the courage to ask what. So we just kept walking. There were tubs on the ground filled with fish and lots of turtles, and tiny cages containing kittens and rabbits. Sometimes we came across someone with 2 puppies sticking out of their shirt, or a kitten cradled in their arms, but more often then not, these animals were contained in their cages, frightened half to death. It was pretty sad to see.
There were all sorts of fish, every kind you can think of, and a turtle that was probably as big as my leg, and much hornier (and not in the sexual way.) We saw a couple tubs full of maggots, which was absolutely disgusting. There were albino frogs (at least, it looked that way to me) and rabbits everywhere. It really was amazing. The pictures I take don't do it justice. When we got to the end of the labyrinth of hutongs, there was a small place with a lot of snack places, but none of us wanted to eat there, as we feared 拉肚子 (or spicy stomach... interpret that as you will.)
We were all getting hungry, and I could feel the affects hitting me (I was getting irritable, blunt, edgy, and tired. All clear signs I needed to eat, NOW.) We found a small place to grab some noodles (the hole in the wall places always have the best noodles) and Julia went out to try to find a Bank of China, because she was out of money. George left soon to go to some boarding school thing, and Stephanie, Jamie and I finished our noodles not much longer.
We met up with Julia, and as we were deciding what to do, Stephanie and I left to go look at dvds (I am a total dvd junkie. It is a problem) and left Jamie and Julia to decide what to do. I bought "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (it was 73 cents) and as soon as Julia and Jamie found us, we decided to go back to school to grab a little more food, go to a bank, and possibly get our hair cut.
That turned out to be one of our worse ideas. I got a jian bing and then dragged Stephanie with me to yet another dvd store, while Jamie pulled out his guide book. The guy that owns the dvd store and I are fighting, though. He won't let me buy just one movie out of a set (like, just one harry potter instead of all of them.) It is a problem. I have given that guy so much money, he should be able to make an exception for me. (For example, I bought one movie for 7 kuai, and Stephanie walked out of their with lots of dvds, and 84 kuai lighter. See what I mean?)
When we met up with Julia and Jamie again, they still hadn't decided, so I made an executive decision, and we decided to go to the zoo. We met Annie on the bridge as we were walking to the bus stop, and as she had locked herself out of her house, she decided to come with us. The more the merrier.
The bus ride was long, and crowded, but we got there, and paid an exorbitant 60 kuai ($8.77) to get a ticket. We can get it reimbursed though. I was on a mission to see the Giant Pandas, and made a beeline for them. Annie, Stephanie and I actually ended up going off on our own and losing Jamie and Julia. Oops.
We wandered off, looking at Pandas, lions, tigers, monkeys, bears. It is a very big zoo, and we covered as much as we could, before we wandered into the aquarium, where Annie and I both realized our shared connection of deeply wanting to be marine biologists. The aquarium was amazing. We spent 2 hours walking around, looking at the huge tanks, some holding fish that were easily twice my size. We lost and found Stephanie a couple of times, and at 5, 2 hours after we had gotten there, made a quick pass by the dolphin tank before racing to try to find the hippos and rhinos. Unfortunately, they were just closing, so we will have to go back later. Damn.
We conveniently met up with Jamie and Julia not too long after this, and it was obvious that we were all exhausted, after walking all day, and no breaks. Annie and I secretly admitted that our feet were killing us, and indeed, I felt like cutting my legs off at the ankles. Jamie and Julia (who I may start referring to as JJ, as that is easier to type. Haven't decided yet) took off in one direction for an exit, and Annie, Stephanie and I went to a another one. As soon as we found where we were, we just decided to take a bus back, which may have been a silly idea. We were all so tired, and our feet hurt (although Annie got a seat, and then Stephanie sat on her lap) the bus was extremely crowded, and hot. I think I may have gotten way over heated and dehydrated by the end of the day, as my head was killing me.
I got home just in time for dinner with my dad and sister, and then took a shower and got in bed to watch Benjamin Button, which, while being an excellent movie, may have been one of the saddest I have ever seen. I have started talking to my family more during dinner, which is good. I can actually have a conversation with my dad now, and I think he likes that. I know I do. My sister speak more Chinese to me now, instead of Chinglish. I think she just does that now because it is a habit. She is so funny.
I am so tired right now, and my feet are still killing me, of course. Goodnight all!
We went to see the exhibit for the Wars against Japan, but, of course, it was closed. Considering the planning, I am actually not at all surprised. We all thought it was extremely ironic, and no one could help but laugh when we realized that it was closed. I stayed my obligated hour, and looked around at the impressive display of old Communist weapons and statues, before my stomach got the best of me, and I encouraged the rest of my group that we should leave to go find something to eat.
We decided to head in the direction of the Animal Market, which is an amazing market selling all kinds of animals. A friend of ours, Warren, had gone a couple days ago, claiming it was pretty cool, so Jamie, Julia, George, Stephanie and I decided that we should check it out for ourselves, just to make sure. We found it after a short walk from the subway station, and started looking around. From the road, it just looks like a short section of a couple of shops, but in actuality stretches through the equivalent of 2 city blocks of hutongs. It's incredible.
The whole front section sold puppies and kittens and some fish. We saw a fight over something (by the puppy section) but none of us dared to summon up the courage to ask what. So we just kept walking. There were tubs on the ground filled with fish and lots of turtles, and tiny cages containing kittens and rabbits. Sometimes we came across someone with 2 puppies sticking out of their shirt, or a kitten cradled in their arms, but more often then not, these animals were contained in their cages, frightened half to death. It was pretty sad to see.
There were all sorts of fish, every kind you can think of, and a turtle that was probably as big as my leg, and much hornier (and not in the sexual way.) We saw a couple tubs full of maggots, which was absolutely disgusting. There were albino frogs (at least, it looked that way to me) and rabbits everywhere. It really was amazing. The pictures I take don't do it justice. When we got to the end of the labyrinth of hutongs, there was a small place with a lot of snack places, but none of us wanted to eat there, as we feared 拉肚子 (or spicy stomach... interpret that as you will.)
We were all getting hungry, and I could feel the affects hitting me (I was getting irritable, blunt, edgy, and tired. All clear signs I needed to eat, NOW.) We found a small place to grab some noodles (the hole in the wall places always have the best noodles) and Julia went out to try to find a Bank of China, because she was out of money. George left soon to go to some boarding school thing, and Stephanie, Jamie and I finished our noodles not much longer.
We met up with Julia, and as we were deciding what to do, Stephanie and I left to go look at dvds (I am a total dvd junkie. It is a problem) and left Jamie and Julia to decide what to do. I bought "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (it was 73 cents) and as soon as Julia and Jamie found us, we decided to go back to school to grab a little more food, go to a bank, and possibly get our hair cut.
That turned out to be one of our worse ideas. I got a jian bing and then dragged Stephanie with me to yet another dvd store, while Jamie pulled out his guide book. The guy that owns the dvd store and I are fighting, though. He won't let me buy just one movie out of a set (like, just one harry potter instead of all of them.) It is a problem. I have given that guy so much money, he should be able to make an exception for me. (For example, I bought one movie for 7 kuai, and Stephanie walked out of their with lots of dvds, and 84 kuai lighter. See what I mean?)
When we met up with Julia and Jamie again, they still hadn't decided, so I made an executive decision, and we decided to go to the zoo. We met Annie on the bridge as we were walking to the bus stop, and as she had locked herself out of her house, she decided to come with us. The more the merrier.
The bus ride was long, and crowded, but we got there, and paid an exorbitant 60 kuai ($8.77) to get a ticket. We can get it reimbursed though. I was on a mission to see the Giant Pandas, and made a beeline for them. Annie, Stephanie and I actually ended up going off on our own and losing Jamie and Julia. Oops.
We wandered off, looking at Pandas, lions, tigers, monkeys, bears. It is a very big zoo, and we covered as much as we could, before we wandered into the aquarium, where Annie and I both realized our shared connection of deeply wanting to be marine biologists. The aquarium was amazing. We spent 2 hours walking around, looking at the huge tanks, some holding fish that were easily twice my size. We lost and found Stephanie a couple of times, and at 5, 2 hours after we had gotten there, made a quick pass by the dolphin tank before racing to try to find the hippos and rhinos. Unfortunately, they were just closing, so we will have to go back later. Damn.
We conveniently met up with Jamie and Julia not too long after this, and it was obvious that we were all exhausted, after walking all day, and no breaks. Annie and I secretly admitted that our feet were killing us, and indeed, I felt like cutting my legs off at the ankles. Jamie and Julia (who I may start referring to as JJ, as that is easier to type. Haven't decided yet) took off in one direction for an exit, and Annie, Stephanie and I went to a another one. As soon as we found where we were, we just decided to take a bus back, which may have been a silly idea. We were all so tired, and our feet hurt (although Annie got a seat, and then Stephanie sat on her lap) the bus was extremely crowded, and hot. I think I may have gotten way over heated and dehydrated by the end of the day, as my head was killing me.
I got home just in time for dinner with my dad and sister, and then took a shower and got in bed to watch Benjamin Button, which, while being an excellent movie, may have been one of the saddest I have ever seen. I have started talking to my family more during dinner, which is good. I can actually have a conversation with my dad now, and I think he likes that. I know I do. My sister speak more Chinese to me now, instead of Chinglish. I think she just does that now because it is a habit. She is so funny.
I am so tired right now, and my feet are still killing me, of course. Goodnight all!
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