Class at Jingyuetan

Every spring semester my supervisor, Wang Laoshi, holds a seminar-style class for his PhD and Masters students. For our last class he planned a picnic to Changchun's Jingyuetan, a large man-made forest and reservoir just outside the city. It was my first time to the park and, albeit the pictures don't show it, I was excited for the outing.

 

 

 

 

While waiting for everyone to arrive at the meeting point, Wang Laoshi took out his camera. I could see him pointing it in my direction, so I turned away awkwardly. Really, the following pictures are not my best, but I felt embarrassed at having the camera pointing at me and not knowing how much he had zoomed in on my face.

 

 

Our picnic location in a meadow overlooking the lake.

 

The women lagged behind, with each step lamenting their quickly dirtying shoes.

 

 

As per some unspoken rule of Chinese picnics, there had to be a tent.

 

 

No one had called or texted me...just avoiding the camera again.

 

 

 

Wang Laoshi's idea of a picnic is to hold regular class with each person giving a short presentation on some aspect of the reading from the semester. Not surprising, I was chosen to read mine first. Oh, the expressions of my avid followers!

 

 

"Ting de dong ma?"

 

 

Can they even understand what I'm saying??

 

 

The tent stands alone, the tent stands alone, hi-ho-the-dairy-o...

 

 

 

Wang Laoshi handed off the camera

 

 

I'm not sure what I wrote after all.

 

 

Attentive much?

 

 

 

 

I just had a feeling I was unnecessarily included in some photos.

 

 

 

Quite to my surprise, one of our department's secretaries showed up to get some papers signed. I wonder if he had to pay the entrance fee for the ten minutes he was in the park. He took our signature group photo, had one piece of chicken, and left.

 

 

The glory of my day: being the only one to enter The Tent with my half-eaten cucumber.

 

 

Aha! The picture we have all been waiting for. Wang Laoshi and I--minus the cucumber, which a classmate graciously offered to hold for me. After eating I proposed some games. Eventually I suggested "Do You Love Your Neighbor?" and we ended up playing that for the better part of an hour. Whenever someone lost they had to eat something as punishment. Once all the cherries and strawberries were gone, the women moved on to tomatoes. One girl ended up eating at least two as her "punishment."

 

 

 

Not a clue.

 

I'm it!

I made a few friends, got a sunburn as well as class credit, taught one of my favorite games to a new group of people, and hung out in nature all day. As my student says religiously, "Class Over!"

Reading Out Loud

In class, my teacher has me read Tuan Yuan, a children's book about Chinese New Year. The main character, a little girl, is excited for her dad to come for his yearly visit. She doesn't recognize him at first, but after shaving his beard and changing his clothes, she sees that he's the dad she's used to. He makes a treat for the family, hiding a coin in one of the dumplings. He says whoever bites into that particular piece will receive good luck. 

The following morning, the little girl bites into it and finds her good luck coin. She carries the coin around everywhere after that. Her dad only stays for another few days, during which time they do all the traditional and fun things that people do during the new year. The days before he leaves, the girl discovers her pocket with her lucky coin is empty! After looking everywhere all day she is devastated that she has lost her coin, even refusing to let her dad give her another one. 

Luckily, she does actually find the coin. The next day she wakes up to find her dad preparing to leave. As she hugs him goodbye, she says she wants him to have the coin and to make the special treat again on his next visit in another year.

I stand in front of the class reading this book aloud in Chinese to my classmates, the two girls nearest helping me with the characters I don't know, which admittedly, is not as many as I would have thought. We get to the page where the girl hugs her dad goodbye and suddenly I choke up. I barely finish the story without large, wet tears gathering in my eyes. 

Yes, I cry in front of the whole class. Little do I know that someone is taking pictures!

In my supervisor's class in the afternoon, he also asks me to read a paragraph. Today is just one of those days. "Hopefully ancient philosophy won't make me cry," I think to myself. This time I stumble through not understanding what I'm reading, markedly less fluent than when I read the children's story. I make it through the paragraph and breathe deeply. 

I need to work on reading out loud in Chinese.