I think it took until last night, singing old 90′s boy band songs to a crowd of 250 Chinese kids, that I finally had a realization: I hardly feel like I’m in China at all. Well, except for the fact that when I try to speak to people, they mostly either respond in broken English or cannot respond at all. Even if the language is different, the noise is the same. The actions are the same. The personalities, the energy, the raw emotional ether is so absolutely, undoubtedly the same.
Last night was the closing ceremony of our second camp session. Each session is eight days long and has a big ceremony at both the opening and closing to mark the event, with tons of performances by kids and teachers alike. And the atmosphere, despite the location, is so amazingly familiar. Kids scream for their friends when they go up to perform, quietly compare and rate the singers and dancers, playfully throw candy and paper at each other, and get bored if a bad performance goes on for a longtime.
Even if I cannot always communicate my exact feelings to the people here, I still feel a connection, a strong connection, something more emotional than spoken. A smile is always returned with a smile, a tongue stuck out gets a laugh, and a confusing explanation of a game returns a puzzled look until that light bulb goes off, and when it goes off, the smirk that follows tells you everything.
But just as much as I feel that connection, it is so fleeting. It sucks being at a camp that only lasts eight days. The time is just long enough to get close to some of the kids and get a short glimpse of the potential of their personalities and the intricate layers building inside of them. Just as you realize how cool these students are, how much you like to hangout with them both inside and outside of class, just as it seems like great friendships are falling into place, it all ends.
Quickly, simply.
The parents come rushing in at 4pm, just as I end my last class, and whisk their kids away into their cars. Bags fly into trunks, students into back seats, with barely enough time for a few hugs and a couple of pictures. And suddenly, the school is empty. You walk by classrooms that are eerily empty, silent for the first time in days. And when I go to sleep tonight, the knocks on the door at midnight from kids asking for help with the air conditioner or the shower, or 2 am. noises calling names through the wall. Everything will be quiet tonight, serene and peaceful. A needed rest, definitely, and some time to just think about the last week. But it’s hard to concentrate on the ones who have left and reminisce for too long. The next group of kids is already on their way, boarding trains and planes in their hometowns,packing their cars for the long drive ahead, a mass of youthful energy descending on a single point in southeastern Xi’an.
I am now more than halfway done with this trip, this job, this learning experience,this….whatever it is. And the reason why I haven’t written as many blog posts as I did before is because I’m just trying to sort out these feelings. Teaching is an intimate job and it takes a lot out of you. You are solely responsible for the education of about 50 kids every session, trying to enlighten them with knowledge, leave them with something new to add to that cranial repository of all things life and living. It is hard to fathom how teachers can bear to leave students after a year, when I already miss the kids after spending only a week with them.
But so it goes, and so it will continue to go. Two camp sessions down, and another to go. But first, a trip to see the Terracotta Warriors tomorrow! And then another eight days of teaching, a quick jaunt to Beijing, and then back to the Big Apple.
Does anyone know why it’s called the Big Apple? I had a student ask me that question, and I had no idea. Maybe because New York state grows a lot of apples?
Anyway, more stories to tell soon enough.
Zai jian!
Matt
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Matt went on his AIESEC internship in Xian, China before starting his freshman year at Yale. You can read more about his experience on his blog.
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