JISHOU, HUNAN — Among the joys of teaching are those moments when circumstances dictate chucking normal classroom decorum.
This afternoon, we had the sunniest, warmest day in what seems like weeks of cold, wet weather. I had planned to conduct class as usual in our somewhat chilly, spartan classroom, when Clara asked if we could have class outside.
Two seconds’ pause … sure, why not? It’s a writing class, and I had a moment of inspiration right then.
First, let me fill you in on some background. This class, the freshman G2 writing class, had told me last week of their plans to go in a hike and picnic Sunday, and they asked if I wanted to go. I agreed, and Clara was the student who was supposed to call me with the meeting time and place.
Only she didn’t. Somehow, signals got crossed and they thought I had gone to Dehang with another class. (It was actually David, the new foreign teacher, who went.) So, Clara never called.
Oh, but she was so apologetic on Sunday evening that it was impossible to be angry with her.
Today, when I entered the classroom (two minutes late, and slightly out of breath), the entire class of 34 stood up and loudly said, “John, we’re sorry!”
Thus, agreeing to go outside for class was partly a way to show I accepted their apology and that we could let bygones be bygones. Of course, as a nefarious teacher, I had something up my sleeve — a writing exercise I had cooked up in my head on the spot.
We went through the first hour the way I had planned to do it in the classroom, since I have two freshman writing classes and I like to keep them on the same schedule. Then we took our regularly scheduled break. I whipped out my digital camera to take some candid photos on this fine sunny day.
There is something about cameras and Chinese students that never ceases to amaze. As soon as they saw my camera, we all had to pose in various combinations for everyone to snap photos. So much for candid shots!
After we filled way more than the allotted 10 minutes snapping goofy pictures of each other, I reined them in to finish the first hour’s lesson, then gave them their writing assignment: pick an object (tree, building, person, whatever) and describe it in detail. They had 30 minutes, which was ample time to generate at least half a notebook page.
OK, OK, it wasn’t a really original idea. I stole it from a colleague, a certain creative-writing teacher of some repute at St. Francis High School. But I wanted to give them a writing task, and until Clara made her suggestion to hold class on the green, I was completely flummoxed about the topic.
Class ended, and a few of the students asked me if I wanted to climb the mountain (it’s really a big hill, but whatever) behind us and pick oranges. The only thing I had planned for the afternoon was to go to the Jun Hua to buy food for dinner. Picking oranges sounded like a lot more fun.
There are farmers who live on the campus and tend the orange groves. The university has actually poured concrete walkways and steps up the hillside, and from the looks of freshly poured concrete bases and newly laid conduit, also plans to light the pathways fairly soon.
Even so, it’s a freakin’ steep climb, requiring some “off road” shortcuts. After what seemed like forever, we reached the groves near the top of the hill. Most of the oranges had already been picked — we had passed a shelter where scores of orange crates were stacked — but there were enough left for us to grab and devour.
Hunan oranges are da bomb. Even the slightly sour ones.
The view was spectacular, despite the misty/foggy/smoggy air. We could look down on the quarry and buildings south of the university, and in the distance see the new superhighway connecting Jishou to Changsha. Predictably, my frakkin’ camera battery died on the way up, so the only pictures I could take were with my crappy cellphone cam. They’re not even worth posting.
We headed back down, and the students asked me what I was going to do for dinner. I scotched the supermarket trip, so they invited me to eat with them in the dining hall.
My students seem constantly amazed by two of my special abilities: I can use chopsticks (well) and I can eat (and like) spicy Chinese food. Thanks to living three months in a fourth-floor walkup on top of a steep hill, I can also climb mountains pretty well, too.