Movin' On Up!

Imagine, if you will, a deluxe apartment in the sky, not unlike the one on the Jeffersons, vary similar in many ways – a doorman, a wonderful city view from the balcony and a view of the Pearl Tower from the bedroom’s large jutting picture window, on the 33rd floor, luxury adornments, somewhat magnificent.
For the summer, I went back to America for my annual visit. As usual, to offset costs, I decided to sublet my apartment, the aforementioned deluxe apartment in the sky.
In the past, for the most part, I had always been able to sublet my other apartment with not much difficulty. This time, however, was different. I had moved into a new apartment that suited me better than my last one but was not as attractive as a party pad.
In that, the new apartment – the deluxe apartment in the sky – did not have a yard like my last one. Of course, a yard in downtown Shanghai is rare at the price that I was paying for the apartment so that was a very attractive element to a would-be subletter. And, my new apartment is not in a hip ex-pat area like my old one was. Really, most people - foreigners coming to Shanghai for a month or two - naturally prefer to live in a hip area where there are a lot of bars. With some doubts - three weeks before I left Shanghai to go back to America for the summer - I listed the apartment on craigslist.
Tumbleweeds rolling across main street in Dodge City when the baddest of the outlaws was about to roll into town; that was the initial response to my listing. I crossed my fingers. I said a few prayers. Time passed - one week, two weeks, and no interest, no interest in the deluxe apartment in the sky. Maybe this had to do with the financial crisis.
Okay, sure, there were a few “I need the apartment for a week.” Or “I need the apartment in September.” Or “I need the apartment tomorrow but for only two days.” I got several of these sorts of requests that were encouraging but less than helpful.
Finally, three or four days before I was set to leave, I got an email from a young lady, originally from Shanghai, visiting from Chicago, working in Shanghai for the summer. I sent her my mobile number and some additional pictures of the place. It seemed to suit her purposes.
However, when I told her the location, she balked; the same thing that I did when I was told the location before I gave the place a look. She decided she wanted to look at it anyway. We scheduled a time for her to come look at the place that evening.
Like me, I thought that she would fall in love with the place after she saw it. And then when I pointed out the metro across the street from the complex – two stops to People’s Square, city center – I knew that she would want to take it. Basically, she came to see it and was impressed but not floored. She wanted to think about it over night.
She also wanted to know what I planned to do with my stuff, my clothes and such. The apartment is equipped with two large wardrobes and a large dresser. She would have the dresser and one of the wardrobes. I would box all of my stuff up and put it in the other wardrobe. This was fine with her.
She told me she would let me know the next day if she was going to take the place. I told her this was fine but I also told her the first person to hold the place with a deposit got the place. We agreed to talk the next day. This was Wednesday evening. I was set to leave at the crack of dawn on Saturday.
The next day, I got an email from the young Shaghainese visiting from Chicago. She was ready to give me a deposit to hold the apartment. She told me she would come that evening – after dinner – to put a deposit on the place. This was Thursday. I told her great. At that point, I was not worried.
Evening came. I waited patiently to hear from the young woman. She sent me a text; she was out with friends; she could not make it that evening. Could she bring me the deposit to hold the place during her lunch hour the following day? Really there was nothing I could do at this point so I told her sure. I had not taken the listing off of craigslist, nor did I have any other would-be subletters. There was really nothing I could do but hope that she would keep her word and take the apartment
Friday, at lunchtime, she could not make it. She rescheduled for that evening. I was nice the whole time. At this point, I reached the definite conclusion that the place may or may not be rented while I was away. I was fine with that for the most part though I hate to just waste what would amount to about $1400.
……………
On top of this, there was one other snag this time around. In the past, my pal Michael - who found the last apartment for me; that is how we became friends because he was my realtor – always took care of most of the business transactions with the subletting. This time, Michael was on holiday for a week or so. He had left at the beginning of the week and he would not be back until the next week after I was gone.
Thus, before he left I had to figure out where to leave the extra key to the apartment and door card to the security door by the elevators. If I sublet the place before I left, the subletter might want to move into the place before Michael returned from holiday. And, I knew this would have been perceived as a bit peculiar if I took the money from the subletter for the place and told him or her that Michael would give them the key after I had gone. That seemed like it would sound really fishy.
So this is what I did, I introduced Michael to my favorite doorman, the doorman whom I thought trustworthy. Michael explained the situation to him in Chinese. I nodded in agreement. A deal was struck.
After the deal was struck and we gave the extra key and security card to the doorman to keep, Michael told me maybe this was not a good idea because now the doorman could come and ransack my flat. Needless to say, this made me a bit anxious – new high-end stereo, plasma screen television, camera, macbook. I started to sweat.
“But Michael,” I started halfheartedly, “uh, that is the doorman’s job.”
“Doorman job?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, “he is supposed to keep keys for people. That is one of his many jobs.”
“Oh.” That was Michael’s only response, which alleviated my fears somewhat.
…………………..
Back to the flaky subletter: at this point, after the lunchtime cancellation, I was worried that this young lady was not going to take the place. Probably, she was just hoping that something else would come along and she was waiting until the last minute to commit. There had been a few really good deals on craigslist that were snagged quickly I assume. My deal was a fair deal - fair for me, fair for the subletter. Really, I just wanted to cover my cost; I did not enter the deal to make money but then I did not want to lose on the deal either.
Evening came again. At 5:30, the agreed upon time, she sent me a text and told me she would be by at 6:30. At 7:30 she showed up with a lot of questions.
Everything seemed fine, going well and all, until she did something that I thought was somewhat bizarre. As she was talking to me, she looked into the bathroom mirror and surveyed her face, which was not peculiar in and of itself but then what she did next was, which I am sure made my mouth drop.
She started popping zits. She did not do this tentatively, shyly or slyly. She did it with the gusto of someone who is totally alone in front of his or her bathroom mirror at home dead set on unclogging some pores. This was a bit unorthodox I thought. Really, I suppose she was just making herself right at home. Nonetheless, I thought it a trifle bizarre.
While she was popping, she asked if I had a shower curtain for the tub. I told her I did. I showed her where I had put it. She told me that she would put it back up if that were okay. This was fine I told her. I had taken the shower curtain down because I never take showers and I am not a fan of shower curtains. So, I took it down. The bathroom looks a lot better without it, just a personal preference.
“Shanghai really breaks my face out,” she told me at one point as she kept popping and talking.
At this point, she started telling me that she would probably keep the same maid that had been cleaning the apartment but she would have her do a much better job cleaning the apartment than I was doing. With this, she ran her finger along the top of the entertainment center to show me the collected dust. Naturally, this was a bit insulting because I keep the apartment clean thanks to my maid who comes and mops and sweeps and dusts and such once a week. In Shanghai, there is construction virtually everywhere so the whole city is one big dustbowl.
Nevertheless, I took the insult and assumed upon my return from America that the place would be as clean or cleaner than when I left. Boy was I wrong. I was so wrong. Wow, was I ever wrong.
After my flight, that was more than four hours delayed, the first thing that I wanted to do when I got back to my apartment was take a bath. Sadly, the flight was delayed because someone had a heart attack an hour or so after we departed from Atlanta where I had had an uneventful layover.
A flight attendant asked the usual “Is there a doctor on board?” over the plane’s public address system. Fortunately there was one. He saw to the patient but we still had to make an unplanned landing, which turned out to be Minneapolis.
The medical crew came on board.
“Oh, we don’t need the gurney?” I overheard a medical crewman ask.
“The patient can actually walk,” a cabin crewmember replied.
I then overheard that the patient had had a full-blown heart attack.
A few minutes later I was surprised to see the patient walking down the aisle past me to the exit. I was surprised because the patient in question was a young co-ed who looked as if she had had a panic attack. Maybe she had had a heart attack. But, from my limited experience with heart attacks, I was surprised to see the victim walking, somewhat unsteadily but walking nevertheless, just a short while after the heart attack.
After the patient was escorted off the plane, we sat and sat. The fuel had to be dumped for us to land so we had to refuel which took some time. After that we had to wait and wait and wait to take off because of other flights departing and arriving.
Four hours later, we taxied down the runway and took off. This time we were heading non-stop to Shanghai.
Michael was scheduled to meet me at the airport. I had no way to contact him to let him know that the flight would be late. Maybe he checked before he went to meet me and found out that the flight was delayed by more than 4 hours. This is what I hoped. Or maybe, he would get there and would not want to wait and would just go back home.
Finally, I made it to Shanghai. And, there, outside of baggage claim and immigration, hooting and hollering was Michael. I smile and waved; I was happy to be back in Shanghai.
I asked Michael if he had called ahead and found out the flight status or if he had waited the whole time. He had waited the whole time.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, I walk airport.”
“You walked around the airport for four hours?”
“Oh Man! I get here. Look. No you. Sign say plane late,” he explained.
“Oh gosh, I am so sorry,” and then I added “Someone had a heart attack on the plane.”
“Huh?!”
This is his response when he is not really sure what I am saying or exactly what I mean. He probably didn’t know what I meant. That was okay. I was back in Shanghai. I was home. We walked from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1 to catch the bus.
He, of course, was excited to see me and hear about my summer. I was wiped out from the 24 hours of flying. As we rode on the bus from the airport in Pudong back to Shanghai, I tried to be as lively and talkative as I could but it was difficult.
We dropped the bags off at the apartment and took a ten-minute walk to a trendy little area where we had pho at a Vietnamese restaurant. I was back in the Orient and ready to get back into the Shanghai Groove.
After we ate, I walked with Michael to his bus and I walked on to my apartment ready to take a bath not realizing what was in store for me.
When I dropped the bags before going to the restaurant, I had not surveyed the place at all. I had just dropped the bags and went with Michael to the restaurant.
Finally, I could relax in the tub. However when I looked at the tub, I wanted to puke. My once pristine porcelain tub was disgusting to the point of me being shocked that someone could have actually stood in it and showered. There was a yellow streak down the middle of it that actually took a week of fifteen-minute intervals of scrubbing to remove. The bathroom actually smelt like urine like the tub had been used for a urinal for public use.
When the freaking zit popping weirdo had told me that she would keep the place much cleaner than I had kept it, I did not know by clean she meant that she would use the bathtub instead of the commode for a urinal. I did not realize this is what she meant by cleaner.
Nor did I realize that by cleaner she meant that the kitchen would be caked from floor to ceiling with grease. The bottle of oil that was in the cabinet before I left seemed to be placed all over the cabinet and the walls and the counter on my return. Everything I touched in the kitchen – dishes, utensils, canned goods, everything – was sticky with grease. Even the nice new dish towels had fallen into the river of grease that ran through the kitchen. They were ruined.
Oh, and for some reason, unbeknownst to me, the fridge – the sleek new brushed-aluminum façade apartment fridge – was covered with stickers. Why in the hell would someone put stickers all over a fridge? Especially when the stickered fridge does not even belong to her? I am not sure what this nitwit was thinking. “Oh, I am sure he would love to have stickers all over his sleek brushed aluminum refrigerator! They will really jazz it up!” Is that what she was thinking? What an idiot!
I am still scrubbing the front of the cabinets trying to remove the grease stains. Not even bleach is working.
Speaking of cabinets - and this is just weird - dripped down the front of the bathroom cabinet, I noticed what appeared to be dried blood. Should I be scared? Did she kill chickens in my bathroom? Was my apartment made into some sort of devil den? Maybe the apartment had become some sort of haven to a coven, some sort of dark arts to the sacred dumpling. Mao and Sir Brian Jones playing pan flutes and ukuleles in the other dimension while the chicken killer reenacts the Lisa Bonet chicken blood scene in Angelheart. Maybe this is what was happening while I was laughing it up Stateside.
The last bizarre and questionable detail that the bathroom chicken killer left me was a broken peephole. Yes, a broken peephole! How does someone go about breaking the peephole in the front door? At this time, I will be entertaining queries into the matter.
Nevertheless, after scrubbing the place on and off for the last week or two, I finally returned it to its former luxurious glory.

Of course, there are times now when I just have to pause and wonder and ask myself - What sort of chicken killing urine rituals had taken place in my bathroom anyway?

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, the last few months that I was in China the blogger site was blocked so I could not access it. Now that I am back in America, I have decided to post what I wrote.

What do you think of this brand?

“No explain. No explain.” Danny repeats over and over.

This is what happened. I came into the classroom a minute before class. The class bell had not yet sounded. Nevertheless, the students always look as if they are caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing when I come into class, no matter how early I arrive. May was thumbing through a Chinese pop magazine. She tells me that it belongs to Danny.

“No explain, May. No explain.” Correct Danny, that's what I should do, but I can't because his inventive use of the language has me spitting and coughing in a giggling fit. All I can do is reprimand May for reading such celebrity trash.

“Danny would never be caught with such a thing,” I say with mock authority.
“No explain. No explain,” Danny continues. “May, no explain.”

Why I am in such a giddy mood, I don’t know. Today is one of those days where the students make me laugh at every turn. Maybe this is because we are getting dangerously close to the end of the term. We are studying pre-American history. They have a list of questions to answer and some words to identify – words like, Inca, Maya, Aztec.

Approximately twenty minutes into the class, Danny comes to my desk bringing his history book with his answers underlined. The first answer to the Olmec question is correct. However, from there, there is a sharp decline in the quality of his answers.

“Although the Olmec civilization was the first in the Americas, more is known about the Maya city-states of Central America,” Danny reads from the book to me in his herky-jerky way, emphasizing the wrong syllables while he does this. This is his complete answer identifying the Maya.

“That is not an answer,” I tell him and then I make a buzzer sound denoting a wrong answer. “I want to know the differences between the Maya and the Aztecs and the Incas. What sets each of them apart? Go back to your desk and come back when you have the correct answers.”

Kevin comes over to my desk 10 minutes after Danny. There is a self congratulatory look about him. I tell him his answers better be better than Danny’s. Again, he answered the Olmec question but when we get to the Maya his answer again is not an answer. To this, I feign exasperation.
“Head broken,” Elliot says from across the room.
“Head super broken!” I add. This sends Danny into one of those crazy Danny laughing fits. I smirk and shake my head.

Later there is suddenly a commotion. I look up.
“He look my book,” May tells me pointing to Danny who is holding a cute girlie journal, the kind with flowers printed all over the outside. Everyone has moved from their own desks. The girls are grouped together. The boys are grouped together. I encourage them to work together because the girls who are at higher levels in their English help Lillian and the boys help each other. Although the boys usually take the easy way, they do usually help each other.

“She, she sit on my..” Danny looks for the word as he tries to come up with a defense.

“So,” I conclude, “since she is sitting in your chair, you can look through her private diary?”

“Yes,” Danny tells me as he emphatically shakes his head up and down.

“No,” I reply shaking my head side to side.

“No,” he replies to my reply shaking his head side to side.
………….

“What’s this word mean?” Elliot asked me when were in the computer room as he was doing his research on white tigers. I went over to look at the word - ‘f-u-r-r’.
“Elliot, you have caught a misspelling,” I told him. “The word is f-u-r.”
“Oh, this,” he said after he translated it with an online translator and rubs his hairless arm.
“Yeah, or this,” I said as I mussed Kevin’s hair.
To this Kevin responded with a shocked “Huh?!” in that patented Kevin via Archie comic book way.
“Oh, sorry,” I replied. “I thought you were a white tiger.”

..................

Okay, Ed one of the Chinese English teachers always wants to know 'what do you think of this brand?' as he shows me whatever shirt or pants - if we are talking pants he points to the label above his butt and this might be my imagination but I swear he wiggles it a bit - he is wearing that he has just bought. I always ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ like they are the most famous which sometimes they are; Levi's, Northface, Polo, Nautica. But this time, he is wearing Paul and the Shark which I had never seen until I moved to China. I just let him take the lead and explain how famous and good Paul and the Shark are to Sharon who has wandered up to the desk at this point.
…………
Terry is in hospital. A few weeks ago, he went for a physical in order to get his visa to go study in the USA. He did not pass the physical. Something is wrong with his heart.

“Not serious,” Sharon told me when I first asked about this.
“A little serious,” Sharon told me the next time I asked.
Now Terry is in hospital. This is more than a little worrisome. Now, after the fact I can see his fragility, his doomed springtime.

…………….

“Ah, swine flu-uh” Danny says after I nearly blow my head off with a sneeze in the computer room.
……….

At the moment, I am trying to keep my cool. This should be no big deal but it could be the straw; it could seriously be the very last one. This is the deal. On Wednesday mornings, I do current events with the students. I give them a stack of newspapers from the last week and I let them pick an article to translate. After the article is translated, they tell me what the article is about. They seem to enjoy doing this and I think that it is a good exercise. As I said, we do it every Wednesday morning.

Okay, now let me give the back-story. At the first of the year, I had a bit of a problem because Chinese English teacher (we will call him ) M always grabbed the papers before I got to them. The papers are paid for by my placement company for my class. I explained this to the teacher and there was no further problem until a few weeks ago when I decided it was a bit greedy of me to hoard these papers for just one class when others could be enjoying them as well.

I spoke to the teacher. I told him that really I only use the papers once a week on Wednesday morning so if he would like to read them and then put them on my desk that would be fine. His English is good so I assumed there was no problem. Silly me!

Last week, I found the papers on his desk after I had searched for them in the mailroom. This week, they are nowhere to be found and neither is the English teacher. Ed says that he has a lesson and he will be back shortly, not to worry. That is easy to say when someone has not stolen your lesson from you.

Nevertheless, in the scheme of things, things could be worse. I could not have a job or I could be working at some job that I really hate so things could be worse, much worse.

Eventually, a few minutes before class is to start, M comes into the teachers’ office with a student. I don’t want to interrupt but I do need to know if he has the papers since they were on his desk last week. Naturally, I assume he took them. He did not take them and he seems to be a bit shocked that I would accuse him. When I asked him, I asked him oh so nicely so he has no excuse to think me rude. I wanted to jump to conclusions but I didn't.

At this point, I am more than a little annoyed but I know it does no good to throw a fit because that is looked upon as foreigner having a tantrum. So, when Sharon comes into the office, I explain the situation and again I am very calm about it.

“Someone has taken the newspapers which I use for my lessons,” I tell her.
“You sure?” she asks which she pronounces ‘U shoe-er?’
“Yes,” I reply. “I use them every Wednesday.”
“Sometimes, maybe May collects them,” she tells me.
This is completely out of left field. May to my knowledge has never ever collected the newspapers from the mail room. May has never ever even been in the mailroom to my knowledge.
“May, the student?” is my only response. This was such an out of the blue answer that I thought that maybe there was some hidden secret May of whom I was not aware.
“Yes, she collects them.”
“You sure?” I ask.
Sharon goes to the classroom with me to ask May about this because I am not sure how to do it. I am armed with one lone newspaper as if newspaper locusts had eaten the rest.

As we are walking to the classroom, Sharon comes up with some other solutions for the current events. She suggests we go to the library and Xerox articles and do it that way. This seems like an awful waste of paper to me. These days I am trying to be somewhat green. Sharon then suggests we go to the computer room which is a good idea I tell her. But, how fond will the computer room gatekeeper be of us barging into the computer room at the last minute. These things are to be scheduled in advance. Nevertheless, if that is what is to be done, that is what is to be done.

Once we are in the classroom, Sharon questions the students about the missing newspapers.
“Someone steal our newspaper!” Kevin exclaims. “So foolish someone is!”
“Yeah!” I tell him feeding the frenzy as I hold up the one newspaper.
“We give them 10 reasons to not steal newspaper!” Danny says passionately as he holds up both fists.
“We give them 100 reasons!” Kevin adds, adding his fists with Danny’s and calling the rest of the class to arms.
“Yeah!” I add to that and then I grab my chest as if it is too much for me to take and I fall down on the floor in a mock heart attack.
“Ambulance call!” Sharon announces in mock panic.
Everyone laughs. Some of them have never seen me have a heart attack. Sharon takes Danny with her to talk to the computer room gatekeeper.
“I will bake you many cakes!” I tell Sharon as she and Danny leave the classroom.
“Oh, no need,” She tells me as she smiles and leaves the room.

I tell the rest of the students I will be right back. I must go to the teachers’ office to collect my grade book and other assorted teacherly things that I need for the class. Quickly, I gather my tools and head back to the class. The bell rings while I am en route.

“We have to stay in the classroom,” Danny tells me as I walk into class.
“Really?” I ask more surprised that he has put together a grammatically correct sentence than the fact that we cannot go to the computer room.
“Student joke,” he tells me which makes me laugh because I really thought that he was telling the truth. His eyes wrinkle up and he laughs. En masse, we head to the computer room. Since I am walking quickly, I get there before the rest of the class.

Sharon is waiting there for us.
“So late,” she tells me jokingly.
……..
We have a day’s holiday. I decide to go see Terry.

The train to see Terry was uneventful, only eight stops from People’s Square. On the train, a family with a young boy, stood. An old lady with her old husband scooted over to make room on the bench for the young boy. From the bench across from them, I watched. Gladly, I would have offered my bench but I did not know how to get their attention.

Nevertheless, this dilemma was solved when a few people got up from my side of the train. The father and the boy sat down next to me. The boy looked up at me and said hello. I said “Hello, how are you?” He laughed and repeated, more as an answer than a question - “How are you!”

The mother stood leaning on a pole. Seeing this, I felt guilty and offered my seat. The mother refused. Again, I offered. Again, she refused. Finally, I got up and made it very clear that I was not going to not let her take the seat. She sat with a fluster of ‘thank you’s’. The old couple looked upon this scene and smiled.

At this point, I was standing by the door on the same side as the old couple. The old lady was sitting closest to me. She tugged on my shirt to let me know that another seat was vacant a little farther down. Someone closer to the seat nabbed it. I thanked the old woman and smiled. She gave me a toothless smile in return.

Eventually, a few stations before my station, the family got up and motioned for me to take the seat. I thanked them and sat down.

Now, I was sitting across from the old couple once again. They noticed the bag I carried with a stuffed bull’s head sticking out. In broken Chinese, I told them that my friend is sick. Not knowing the word for sick, I let out a mock cough.

They then asked if I was going to Xin Hua Hospital. I told them yes and they nodded their heads in approval. At this point, I was at the stop. I told the old couple goodbye and exited the train. Outside exit 2, stood the hospital, big imposing and Chinese.

I followed the throng of people through the street construction – there is always street construction – into the 12 story hospital in search of the 14th floor. This could prove difficult.

The first floor of the newly opened building was dissected in the middle by an escalator. People were going every which way. I looked at my watch and I was on time. I had told Terry that I would come to see him in between 10:30 and 10:45. The time was now 10:28. This pleased me.

I went to the elevator banks assuming that I had judged wrong on the number of floors. I hadn’t; there were only 12 floors in the building. My worst fears were grounded.

Since I had a note with all of the information in Chinese, I figured I could blunder my way through a conversation at the information counter. This sort of scene is always a psyche-out sort of scene for the locals simply because I am always looked upon by the mass population as some sort of elephant man. This time was no different. The women at the information desk looked at me with a certain mystified horror.

To the lady at information, I pointed to the information - the floor and Terry’s Chinese name - that Sharon had written in Chinese. She made a phone call. The prognosis did not seem to be positive. She hung up the phone. She looked at the information written on the sheet, crossed it out and put in her own information which was not exactly what I suspected but was not surprised really. After she marked out Terry’s name with the rest of the information, she shook her head no. This was slightly unnerving.
“Meiyo,” she stated.
“Meiyo?” I asked surprised. A few minutes before, I had received a text from Terry. I knew he was at the hospital and the lady at information desk was telling me he was not.
“Meiyo?” I asked again.
“Meiyo (don’t have, not here),” she confirmed after she had marked through the information on the paper.
Since I had just heard from Terry, I assumed there was another taller building on the hospital grounds, though no one had thought to tell me this when they gave me the directions. Behind the main new building, there was a taller older building. I made my way there which involved going through a side door and following a breezeway to the back entrance of this taller building.
This building seemed abandoned. Inside, hardly anyone stirred. There were a few nurses wandering the hallways. This was a drastic contrast to the building in front. There was something slightly sinister about the building, like a building stuck in another time, a time of polio and syphilis.

Although I was in what seemed to be a grand entryway, I could find no elevator banks. Finally, after wandering around, I did find one elevator which was odd since the building was so tall. I then saw a nurse who had a kind face. I showed her the information. She shook her head ‘No’. I followed her. She went down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was another elevator. I got in with her. I pushed the button for the 14th floor. Again, she shook her head no. I assumed she was looking at the room number which was 825. I shook my head yes. We rode in the elevator in silence.

We got out of the elevator and both walked in the same direction. We walked past a nurses’ station. I was looking at the room numbers this whole time. They were clearly marked.

I found the room. I walked in.

In the bed where Terry should have been was a man who was clearly not Terry. Yes, he was Chinese but he was not Terry. This man in Terry’s bed was probably in his late 50s. The room full of patients and visitors – there were 4 beds crowded into a two-bed (hospital) room – all stared at me. I apologized and went back to the nurse’s station. At this point, I did not know what to do. I called Terry and gave the phone to the nurse. Why I did this I am not sure because they could not explain to me where to go once Terry got off the phone with them. By this time, it was nearly 11. I walked around the floor thinking that I might find some sort of Chinese clue to Terry’s whereabouts. At this point, I found the main elevator bank. There I waited.

A minute or so later, the elevator opened and a crowd of Chinese visitors were inside though there was still plenty of room for more passengers. A woman stood with a bag that basically blocked anyone from getting in. I basically had to kick the bag out of the way to gain admittance. She did not seem to notice. The elevator stopped at every floor on the way down. More people got in. By the time we reached the 1st floor the elevator was packed.

The elevator opened to what was the grand entrance to the building. This grand entrance spilled out onto a large circle drive. There were other buildings along the circle drive. All of these buildings were squat. None of them were anywhere close to having 14 floors.

At this point, I was frustrated. It was 11:15 and I had still not located Terry. There had to be a building with 14 floors. There had to be.

For lack of any other ideas, I wandered around the hospital grounds with hopes of finding someone who spoke English. I knew he was here somewhere. I just did not know where. This was becoming somewhat Hitchcockian. Maybe he was locked in a chapel or in a basement or in a bell-tower.

I made my way back to the building where I first entered. I saw a young nurse who looked as if she might know English. Actually, there was no way of telling if she knew English or not but I thought I had nothing to lose.

“Duibuqi,” I said as I pointed to my sheet of marked through information pointing to the marked through information. “Jigga.” (Translated as ‘Excuse me, this.”)
“I will show you,” she told me.
“Thank you, xie xie, thank you, xie xie!” I said as a mantra of international thank you.
She took me to a building connected by a breezeway to the side of the first building where I had entered. This building did not look as if it had 14 floors. Nevertheless, when we got to the elevator, I saw that there were indeed 14 floors – the 14th floor being the top floor.

I thanked the nurse as I got into the elevator which I shared with an orderly and a gurney. A few other people got into the elevator with us. The nurse said her goodbyes and went back the way she came.

Back in the States....

My cousin asked me if I remember the woman who lived across the street from her house. I am not sure. The man, I somewhat remember. My cousin talks to the couple in passing or rather talked to them in passing. A family bought the house. A young family with two kids and a couple of dogs and a few work trucks live there now. Before, last summer, the house always looked somewhat vacant. Occasionally someone would drive onto the driveway, a teenage girl, a woman, the man that I somewhat remember.

Last summer, there was this story about the teenage girl. She and a girlfriend decided to try X or some other such drug. My cousin was not sure what the drug was they tried. They found a boy to deal it. The boy was happy to deal it. The parents were out of town. The girls did the drugs. The boy showed up with a few other boys. The boys took turns. Maybe this went on all weekend. In China, the boys would be executed. In America, no one says anything.

The mom is a drunk. She drinks and fights with the man. He is not the girls father. Or maybe she is not the girl's mother and he is the girl's father. I am not sure which. Nevertheless, the woman is a drunk. This is not blatant, only her close friends know. Only those in the know know. When she gets drunk, she fights with the man.

Before the happy family with the two kids and the dogs and the work trucks moved into the house, the woman went on one of her drinking binges; she fought with the man. He stormed out and drove away. She decided to show him. She did it in the garage. Some people think it was an accident that she just wanted to scare him. The chair broke.

Danny looks out the window

Danny looks out the window. Outside, down on the sports field, the chatter of children has distracted him. My students are taking an examination. This is the 3rd nine week’s examination. The final exam will be the last one. At that time, I will say goodbye to this group of students with whom I have become so close over the last school year.

Kevin gets my attention. He has a question.

On one of the sections of the exam, he is to write some information about the different emperors.

“These I didn’t write,” he tells me as he points to the emperors, excluding Octavian.
“I know,” I tell him. “You must give me information about them.”
“Huh?” is his response. This is one of those ‘huh’s of complete shock like I have asked him to recite the Bill of Rights word for word.
“Think about the presentations that your classmates gave about them,” I tell him to help him. “Just think about it for a bit.”
“Okay,” he concludes.

From the sports field, the occasional coach whistle can be heard; beyond the sports field, there are the honks and the sounds of engines, the sounds of birds, migrating birds.

I am sitting at the back of the class. I look at Kevin who is sitting at a desk two seats in front of me. He is sitting ‘thinker’ style with his hand on his chin. Suddenly, a thought comes to him. He busily writes something. After he finishes, he looks up and then goes back to sitting like the Thinker again.

A few days ago, Sharon – whom I have come to like quite a bit though we have our differences – was teaching me some Chinese phrases. I feigned gratitude. Actually, this was fun. I was enjoying myself. She then mentioned at the first of the year I got mad when she was trying to teach me phrases.

Yes, I did get mad but she does not remember it the way I do. This was during the first few weeks of class. We were both in the classroom during my class period talking to the students about vocabulary.

Sharon blurted out - yes blurted out - that I should learn the same number of Chinese words that the students learn English words. She then said I was lazy in front of the students. Naturally, I was in shock at how inappropriate this was. For awhile after this, for me, the gloves were off.

Of course, after that at the teacher’s office, I gave her an earful. Now, she does not remember it that way. She just remembers that I got mad when she was trying to help me learn some Chinese. I let it go. It is not worth rehashing. At this point, we are friends which has been a bit rocky but I we have made it in some post-Manilow (Barry) sort of way.

Now, I go around the classroom and look over various papers wondering how the students are doing on the exam. Overall, with the exception of Lillian of course, everyone seems to be doing well with the exception of the emperor section. All of the boys are completely stumped. The girls have studied this they know the answers. Maybe I am too much of a softie; I decide to give the students an extra credit question.

Tell me about your visit to the special needs home. Each good sentence is worth one point.

I then explain to them – “Each sentence must have a subject and a verb. If you write ‘We good time there.’ That is not a good sentence. What is wrong with that sentence?”

Odile meekly answers there is no verb. Outside the birds are flying to Beijing, Tianjin, St. Petersburg.

Danny hands me his exam first. After he does this, this opens the flood gate - a river of exams hits my desk. After I have all of the exams, I tell the students to meet me back in the classroom at 10 am. At that time, they will take their math and science exam that Markus prepared.

After they hand me the examinations, I look them over. This is always a somewhat arduous task because I want to give them the benefit of the doubt but I do not want to be too easy. And, I get somewhat frustrated when I know that some of the students put so little effort into their studies when they are set to go to study in America in August or September. In some ways, I feel as if my classroom is more or less a holding cell, a place to mark time, a place to count the days; as if the students do not have to really apply themselves. It seems even the most ambitious students have become lazy.

Granted, I may have not made it clear that they needed to know about the six emperors I listed on the exam but the other questions on Ancient Rome should be easy for all of them. Lillian of course is the exception; she answered ‘BC 509’ to the question ‘What happened in AD 476?’ This did not even faze me. Sharon has even gone so far as to call Lillian stupid.

“Her mother may not let her go,” Sharon started.
“To America?” I asked
“No, not America,” Sharon corrected me. “To Australia.”

But then Danny, my hopes – my high apple pie in the sky hopes – were on Danny; oh Danny, Danny who spells Caligula with an ‘r’ Danny - watching the birds Danny, sports-field-in-his-head Danny – Danny, Danny, Danny disappoints me.

Question – What were the disturbing consequences from the riches that flooded into Rome?
Danny’s answer – Emperor.
And then when I ask about Spartacus, yes, he knew but he could not state it correctly
Question – Who was Spartacus?
Danny’s answer – A brave man who lead no freedom people to defend with rich people.

Nevertheless, I get a lump in my throat when I read the short essays the students wrote about going to the special needs home.

Kevin took the opportunity to write his heart out.

On Monday, the weather was good. We went to the “special needs” home. The people in this place, there was something wrong with their brain.

When they known we would go and see them, they were very happy.
We played, talked and had a walk with them. We also known something about them. There was one small child, about 5 years old, his father and mother died. When we played with him, he seemed very happy.

We learnt a lot of things at the ‘special needs’ home. When we saw them, we were very sad. They were very small with no parents, no family, so they were very poor. They need love from everywhere. They make me know I’m so lucky, because I have parents, family and I’m healthy.

Elliot has worked really hard all year. Although, his essay is still rough, he tried his best to describe his visit to the special needs home.

When I this-a room, a boy call me, and hope my play a kind of card’s game with he. It’s a very difficult game. I never play but I hardly to play with him, I think, I must make he happy.
We play game about 15 minutes. This boy want ask me something things and he ask me he very happy have people meet he of have people meet him, he will rember they all life. I believe him because when he meet me first he ask me where is Feb. meet he two girls, I know. He said it’s other class’s mate. So I’m very surprised because maybe them head it’s not very useful. But they can rember every meet him people. And I write some words on the card give him. He is very happy. I said I will rember him all life, too.
When I leave the special needs I know more things. First, I think the special needs people are just like a baby but now I think they more like adult. We’re lucky. We’re healthy, so we should better to study, to help the need help’s people.

Then Danny sums it all up.

We visited to the “special needs” home on Monday. There were many child live in the home. Some childs were mental. Some childs had anti-body. I thought I am lucky one in the world. The teacher said “Everyone can play with childs together.” I played basketball with two childs. One child had bad apperence. The other one was mental. We played very happy. We took a photograph together. I really like them. Sometimes they made me sad because they haven’t parents. So I must treasure my parents. And make my parents happy.

We had a good time there. And we must treasure our life because we only have one life.

After I look over the exams and finish reading the extra credit essays, I look up and look at the students. All of them are lost in concentration working out equations and story problems. I smile.

“Okay, you got about 5 minutes,” I announce.
No one looks up but I do get a sense of mass panic.
“I’m kidding,” I counter. “You really have about 20 minutes.”
Danny laughs.

…………………………….

Student walks into the teachers’ office looking for his Chinese English teacher; he has question. I tell him perhaps I can answer his question.
"What means “\'Holy Shit'?”
“Well, I don’t suppose it makes much sense really,” I tell him.
“Shit is excretement like from dog.”
“Yes, I suppose it is heavenly crap,” I tell him.
“Oh,” he is somewhat satisfied. He walks out of the office.
……………………………………………

When I go back to the classroom, I discuss the exams with the students. I tell them maybe we will go to the zoo in a few weeks. Danny looks out the window. Outside the birds are flying to Beijing, Tianjin, St. Petersburg.

I shut him then he died. I know that are cabal and they sale medicine that’s all..

“My dictionary!” the student exclaimed as he grabbed a large dictionary on the extra teachers’ desk in the teachers’ office.
“Had your dictionary gone missing?” I asked
“Yes, gone missing.”
“So, you are reunited?” I then add in my best ‘adult at the end of Lassie Come Home’ voice, “Such a happy moment.”
“Yes, so happy.”
In the West, a boy and his dog comes to mind. In China, the dog is replaced with a dictionary.

As soon as I got to school this morning, Edward had a question about a sentence which was absolutely not the time for me for a question about a sentence. I was running late or rather I was running on time with few minutes to spare but not a lot of time for a question about a sentence.

Thursday is my long day. I teach 6 classes which I usually supplement with a film. Today, I had planned to show the film Gandhi. Edward asked me the question as I came into the teachers’ office. When he asked me the question, I had my mind on other things; one of those things was to locate Gandhi. I knew the film was somewhere on my desk – or in my desk – in one of the many piles which seem to multiply in the night when I am away.

“Tell me which is correct in this sentence –
The reason why the explosion occurred was because the laboratory attendant had been careless.
The reason why the explosion occurred was that the laboratory attendant had been careless.”

Not really stopping to think about it, I told him that I think either was okay.
“No,” he told me firmly “because is wrong. It is a predictive clause.”
“Well, you asked me and in American English we would not really think about it. But if you say it is wrong, then okay it is wrong.” I did not want to really go into it and I didn’t want to be mean about it but I really didn’t want to go into it.

I try to be nice about this but if someone asks for my opinion, especially first thing in the morning - on my 6 period day - I am not absolutely kiss-ass thrilled when that person tells me I am wrong. Furthermore, I am not a walking English rule book by any stretch of the imagination. I suppose there are people who are. I am not. Yes, okay, it is redundant to say ‘why’ and ‘because’ in this sentence but it is it something to make a major case over especially when I am searching for Gandhi in the a.m.? Gandhi where in the fuck are you?! What would Gandhi do?

During this exchange, I located Gandhi. Armed with the film, I headed to class.

……….

The end of the school year is upon us and this is always bittersweet because the time is getting closer when I will be going home for the summer but then, at the same time, the time is getting closer to when I will be saying goodbye forever to the students. The past few years when I left for the summer, I had assumed I would see the students that I was leaving the following school year. This year, I know this will not be the case because these students with whom I have spent so much time will be going to America. And there is a good chance that most of them I will never see again. If I do see them, this will be a strange coincidence. This saddens me.

So now, each day, I try to take in everything and laugh at all of the inconsequential interludes, those fleeting moments of laughing and sunshine in the garden; those times when Elliot is reading from the wrong paper.

Yesterday, I gave them a short article about a Mexican beauty queen who was arrested with her boyfriend and some gunrunners. The homework assignment was to either write about the day in the life of a police officer who deals with gunrunning or drug trafficking; or to ask the beauty queen questions and give her advice to help her get her career back on track. Most of them handed me something grammatically faulty but superbly entertaining

So, without further adieu, I would like to give you a glimpse into the minds of a couple of the students. (I have made some corrections where I feel it necessary but I have tried not so spoil the flow of their brilliance and creativity.)

I start to work at 7 o’clock. I meet my leader when I get to the office. If my leader doesn’t give me a task, I can stay in my office and have a rest. When tasks come, I must prepare for them. We must have a discussion about robbers, etc.

“Who can finish this task? It’s a hard task to catch a murderer,” the leader said.
“I can,” I said. (Neil Diamond! Watch out!)
“Ok, Danny will finish this task. Lucky for you!”

I think it is a chance for me. And I can finish this.

In the afternoon, I have some news about the murderer. He is in his home. I stand out of his door and watch him moving the body which he has killed just now. I break into the room. And shout “Don’t moving!”
I aim the gun at him. “If you don’t listen to me, I will kill you.”
“Do you kill people?”
“Yes,” I admit. ”So I will arrest you.”
The murderer don’t move. I think maybe he be arrested now. Beyond my imagination, he have a knife. It’s dangerous. I shut him then he died. He is died. I am finish the task. My leader encourage me and promote me. I am very happy.

Thank you Danny! I can see that your future writing crime fiction or television docudrama is secured. Elliot’s brilliant mind is a tad harder to crack. He writes in code that multiple English grammarians are still trying to crack. Good luck!

1. What relation ship between you and group?

I don’t have any relation with gang. They only threated me to help them. Yesterday, they break in to my house and put out the gun and threat me. Don’t call help and I do this. They will kill me. I’m afraid, very much.

They make me get in the car. I think they maybe to abduct me and gaved many money for me next. I know that are cabal and they sale medicine that’s all.

2. Why you know the cabal sale the medicine?

Because I usually saw they deal the medicine for example one name’s Kevin usually buy and they encourage me eat but I not listen them.

3. We want know something about your boyfriend.

Okay. My boyfriend is the brother of one of Mexico’s biggest gang bosses. But he is a good man. He about meet his brother twice a month. But I don’t know why they meet.

Sadly, I think the beauty queen may have been expunged before she was able to finish her interview.

But what about heavy metal…

A few days ago, the students gave their oral presentations on Roman emperors. As I mentioned before, Danny was assigned Caligula. His presentation consisted of oral stops and starts and stutters and appeals to Odile for help with the translating of words. These Chinese words, which he appealed to Odile for their English meanings made Odile red faced. To these words, she emphatically shook her head no.

“His sister, ne-ga ne-ga ne-ga, he, uh marry her..uh in in ne-ga ne-ga ne-ga in in-incest,” Danny stuttered and stammered using the word ‘ne-ga’ as a filler like English speakers use ‘like’. ‘Ne-ga’ means ‘that.’

Yesterday, when I told the students that they were to now do an emperor PowerPoint presentation, Danny told me he wanted a new emperor. He doesn’t want to do Caligula. I told him that was fine but that would mean more work for him because he already has the information on Caligula. He decided to keep Caligula. Later in class, he asked me a question.

“What’s that, Caligula?” I asked him. This of course made the whole class laugh with Odile laughing the loudest.
“No, no, no, I not Caligula,” he said defending himself.

So today, they are working on their presentations. In the computer room, Danny and Kevin sit together; Elliot and Terry, Lillian and May, and then, Odile and Leta. Everyone has a partner, each of them well suited to each other.

Although, I had told them that they could use the information they already had, most of them do searches for some new information for their Powerpoitnts. Really, I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I think that they enjoy this class.

“Danny, why are there sexy girls on your screen?” This I asked after I saw a screen of girls in bikinis.
He points to the search engine in use, Baidu, and says – “uh, Caligula.”

“Oh, okay.” I thought I might have to dock him five points but he was in fact searching images. I sure hope safe search is activated.

“Very nice,” I tell Kevin as I look at the first slide he is in the process of designing; it is a surprisingly clever design.
Octvian?” I ask. “Isn’t there another ‘a’ in there somewhere?”
“Huh?” His ‘huh’ is not an American teenage ‘huh’ of blasé disinterest but a spirited ‘huh’ of actual surprise. His eyes widen as he says it.
“Oc-ta-vi-an,” I enunciate.
“Oh, oh, …yes,” he says as he corrects his mistake which makes Danny laugh. My shtick is of constant amusement to Danny.
“What are you laughing at?” I ask. “You don’t spell it C-A-L-I-G-U-L-A-R! There is no ‘r’ in Caligula!” This of course sends both of the boys into laughing fits that includes hitting each other in the arms.
“You so stupid!” Kevin tells Danny and then adds for my sake as he points to Danny, “Head broken.”

…………………………………….
On Saturday mornings, I have a ritual. My maid comes at 7:30 and I pay her to clean for 2 hours but usually she cleans for about an hour and a half which I really don’t mind except that I realize sometimes after she leaves the floors are not as clean as they could be and the dishes sometimes are still somewhat gunk ridden. However, I am happy to not have to do it myself so I redo what I must and go on with my Saturday morning routine.

After I sit on my balcony, 33 stories up, (I will fill in the details of my new fabulous deluxe apartment in the sky at another time), I have coffee and fruit and yogurt. After breakfast, I take off on a walking excursion which sometimes includes the labyrinth-like plant market - where I buy ceramic pots for 5 rmb. These excursions always include the CD/DVD flea market that is hidden in the pockets and crannies of a construction supply warehouse.

Thus, amongst the sinks and tubs and paneling samples and light fixtures and plumbing fixtures and baby blue mini-fridges, there are booths with piles and piles of CDs and DVDS. These, from what I have ascertained, are liquidated stock sent to China from all over the world with everything ranging from Edith Piaf to Hawkwind. Sometimes, I have even happened upon the Red Headed Stranger but I have never happened upon Lucifer’s Friend or White Witch. Sometimes, I find CDs like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah for 5 rmb or Patti Smith Wave re-mastered or Piper at the Gates of Dawn in mono and in stereo, the deluxe edition.

Some of the CD hawkers know me by now since I have gone there religiously for over a year and they warmly greet me and sometimes even direct me to a secret stash of Gilbert O’Sullivan and Badfinger. A particular couple of ladies at one booth, direct me to their stash of 5 rmb goodies but they do this covertly so that others perusing their wares do not notice.

Other stall proprietors have seen me peruse the CDs and assume that I like anything since I sometimes have a large stack of CDs in my arms. There is one hawker that points to the same Luka Bloom CD every time I stop at his stall.

“Luka Bloom, very nice,” he tells me. The first time this happened I told him no thanks - ‘bu xie’- but after the third Luka Bloom, very nice push, I was more than slightly irritating especially since sometime during the course of these visits to the ‘Luka Bloom, very nice’ stall invariably Bon Jovi ‘Living on a Prayer’ gets put onto the stereo and cranked at a high volume - in my honor, it seems. From what I have heard Jon Bon is a nice person but this assumption that I want to hear ‘Living on a Prayer’ at Bells’ Amusement Park (R,I.P.) Himalaya volume - do you want to go faster? - really makes me want to strangle someone.

Next to this hawker, there is a youngster hawking CDs who has some nice things sometimes. I bought the Yardbirds first album, a Japanese pressing with original cardstock artwork, for 5 rmb. At this stall, there are often Miles Davis or Coltrane reissues. Nevertheless, the last time, I was there this young hawker brought my attention to a CD that made me see red, mean red, blood to the temples red.

There are probably only a few bands that I loathe as much as I loathe this band. I actually stopped liking someone because this someone sang along to this schlock when their schlock came on the stereo on - not the radio but - a mix-CD, yes, a mix-CD meaning the person in question either purposely put this schlock onto the CD or was an associate of someone who put this schlock onto the CD.

I FUCKING HATE ROXETTE! There are few bands that I hate as much as Roxette.

Nevertheless, this hawker, this youngster, is a sweet person and blissfully unaware of the somewhat ridiculous – or at least seemingly ridiculous – standards that I set forth for my music. It is really not something that you can explain to someone else. And, who is to say that Roxette are not the best band ever? Well, I am to say that! They suck! In the case of this sweet hitch-hawker, I mumbled no thanks and went back for one more gander at the ‘Luka Bloom, very nice’ stall.

Oh but first, I went to another another stall, the stall of Bowie and Blondie - where I have found many of their reissues. At this stall, I found a somewhat rare Kevin Ayers CD from ’73. I proudly had it clutched for the entire world to see as I strolled stall hopping hoping this would be a deterrent against getting schlock-pop shoved into my face, a deterrent against the Mariahs and the Celines and the Enigmas and the Deep Forrests.

Thus, I made my way back to the ‘Luka Bloom, very nice’ stall, there seems to be one main guy and then he seems to have a few hawker helpers. When he saw that I proudly clutched a CD, he asked me how much I paid for the CD. I told him 10 rmb. This seemed to be an ‘open says me’ of sorts to penetrate a discount at his stall.

“5 rmb,” he said as he made a sweeping motion over his CDs much like when Jesus turned that water into wine. This got my attention. I fell into a hare hare rama rama perusal CD meditation.

Sometimes, some of the guys or girls that help hawk at this stall are so nice that I cannot be mean no matter what they shove into my face. However, sometimes these people are pushy and shove CDs in my face like new bad Elton or Clapton or Santana (OH GOD!) or something equally fetid and I have no patience for them. Sometimes, I say ‘I hate that from the depths of my soul’ which means nothing to them really or I just laugh maniacally. The maniacal laughter works the best I have found.

So the day in question - we will call this day, The day I found Kevin Ayers at a Shanghai flea market like some treasured forgotten genie in a bottle - one of the stall helpers - a pushy man who seemed to look at me like I was nothing more than chattel – threw a CD into my path not more than 10 minutes after I left the blissfully unaware sweet youngster’s stall.

The CD he threw in my path was not Zep, was not sweet baby ‘floating in the pool’ Jones era Stones, was not the tragic Nacht Music Nico. It was in fact the same, the very same, mean red inducing, fetid dreaded, – someone may just get beheaded - Roxette CD. I mean is there a conspiracy?

.........................

Speaking of music and forgetting about beheadings and conspiracies, Sharon asked if I would talk to the students about the different types of music. In their English text book there is a two page spread on everything from classical music to folk music to dance music (Dance music is composed, played, or both, specifically to accompany social dancing, in case you wanted the text book defition).

My talk was probably much more involved than it needed to be. I started with classical music. Since Tchaikovsky was mentioned in the book, I played a few of his hits and even performed an impromptu Nutcracker which made the students, especially Danny, laugh. I asked them if they knew about Beethoven. Danny had heard Beethoven and gave the class his rendition of a few bars of Beethoven’s 9th.

So, taking the opportunity to play it, I did. Of course, after the opening bars, the loud rock and roll Chuck Berry guitar bursts into the song with the abruptness of Zsa Zsa Gabor bitch slapping a cop.

“Oh, I very like,” Elliot enthusiastically responded to the opening of ELO’s ‘Roll Over Beethoven.’ I then played them the Chuck Berry version. By the time, I played the Beatles’ version; I think everyone was done with rolling over Beethoven. They didn’t really need to even tell Tchaikovsky the news, after all.

To talk about jazz, I played them some Coltrane but a classroom is really not the right setting for this. Really, you should probably be hopped up on black tar or nodding off dreaming of horses and spider bites.

I entertained myself with the James Brown song thatI picked. Nevertheless, these students are probably not that familiar with any sex machines so ‘I feel like being a sex machine’ was somewhat lost on them. Danny did laugh however when I recited the words in my best Olivier, which is less than outstanding but somewhat amusing.

“Yes, I am getting up now. I shall get on up now. Let thee get up now. Shall I get up now? When mightest thou get up now? To get up or to not get up now, that is for my mortal coil to question.”

I played them tons of disco for dance music because in other classes I have already played them Sly and the Family Stone so that party train has already left the station.

After the dance music, I played the Pistols and the Ramones and tried to explain why punk happened socially and politically but really I just got vacant stares. Thus, I ended the class with ‘Teenage Lobotomy’ and ‘God Save the Queen.’

AS I was leaving the classroom, Leta said in a voice straight out of Oliver Twist –
“But what about Heavy Metal?”

Stupid Bloody Tuesday (which is really Thursday)

Leon’s gone. Venice is gone. Paul is gone. In many ways, this is like the end or climax to some stock horror movie or doomsday epic. The doomed character writes - somewhere in close proximity to the final battle or the last showdown - of those absent near the end, the mystery of their vacancy. He, the main character, is holed up in a shed or a basement or a bunker living on the last of his rations of food – cans of corn, rotting potatoes, disemboweled rabbits, stewed squirrels.

All the girls been losin’ faith in me
Don't seem like Top Cat's great
As he once used to be
I know I'm good
So you just better be better
When you get yourself out on that floor
You better have your steps together
There's gonna be a showdown.

Leon, I knew, would leave at the beginning of the new term which is not that doomsday when it comes right down to it. He is off in Australia. Markus (the other foreign teacher who is a kindred spirit) and I were both puzzled and somewhat amazed that he actually got accepted to a school in Australia since he never understood a word either of us said.

Venice was scheduled to leave sometime during the current term because from what I gather he has to be living in Australia before he turns 18 since his English is nothing short of awful. If he went to Australia after he turned 18, he would have to take an English test. That is what I was told. I do not know if it is true. Paul disappeared with no explanation. I came to school one day and he was gone.

Actually, let me take that back, we did get an explanation about his disappearance from his father. His father told Sharon that Paul told his father that he – Paul - was not learning anything in class which was very interesting to me since he never ever applied himself whatsoever and was basically a bad influence on the other boys. Constantly, I caught him with his PSP and other gadgets. Paul’s English level remained at the same low end from when he got here to when he left. He never made an effort. No wonder he didn't learn anything.

He blamed all of this on the other students which is another interesting part since Paul was the one who was the bad influence. He told his father he could not study in the dormitory because of the noise. After his father paid for the whole year, he pulled Paul out of school on a whim. I told Sharon that his father could have just given the money to us and just shipped Paul off to Siberia. We then started joking about setting up a school and taking the money and sending the spoiled kids off to Siberia. Sharon still often says she is out of fist sandwiches.

Maybe here is where I should discuss the state of things in the upper-crust of Sino (high school) Academia. Private schooling seems to be a new thing for Chinese parents with their expanding pocket books. I say new as in new to this generation. There of course have always been private schools and tutoring but now the parents must take into consideration the global academic possibilities. For some parents, not all of them though, the possibility of foreign study seems the best option for their offspring. For these parents, the words and images of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford flash before their eyes.

The ultimate goal starts to materialize and that is to get their little darlings into a top university so that their little darlings will get a job at a top company and make a lot of money and be able to take good care of their parents when the parents are old and feeble.

As I said, this is the goal, but there are no clear cut paths - other than having the students themselves study hard and place at a good university. Thus, the parents run around from school to school, academic placement company to academic placement company, in search of the best options for their kids.

With all of the schools and placement companies in China in competition, the parents have to decide what is best. Every school and placement company sees dollar signs for students which sometimes creates a weird dynamic where the students are actually looked upon more like clients than students. The teachers must cater to their whims. Often this is because there is no clear goal for the student after he leaves that particular school. Their next step is not known or really considered.

Fortunately, in my current situation, this is not the case. My students are bound for overseas schools. My recommendation will help them. Thus, we have a mutual understanding which has somewhat curbed my meltdowns. That was all just an aside.

The students now are Danny, Lillian, Leta, Kevin, and Elliot and the three new students which I will discuss later.

Elliot is the dark horse. Elliot is the surprise. At the start of the fall term, I thought he was going to be a difficult student but that is not what has transpired. He really has tried to improve his English throughout the year and I think that he has. Recently, he was somewhere with his mother and he read a snippet of English on a sign or menu and she was so happy she cried. Well, she probably didn’t cry but she was happy.


The three new students - Terry, May and Odile – have added a much needed academic kick-start to the program. Of the three, Terry and Odile are the new superstars of the class. Odile actually has her hair done exactly like the Warhol Superstar Edie Sedgewick, during her silver Andy period. It must take forever to get it that way. Terry has hair like Viva. Okay, I am lying about the hairstyles on the new arrivals but I am not lying when I say they both have a really good command of the English language.

From what I have been told, their mom’s are like sisters and so the mom's are very close and competitive which makes Odile and Terry competitive but not necessarily close. Terry, however, is a typical boy. He is easily influenced by the others but at the same time, I think he became the leader of the group within a few days of arriving. Kevin hangs on Terry all of the time. Before, Kevin was the smartest boy. Now, Terry takes that honor which does not seem to bother Kevin in the least.

Shortly after the new students arrived, at the start of the new term, we did an impromptu in-class game show over our favorite demented Scot - Macbeth. Terry answered every question for the boy’s team. The girls clobbered still clobbered the boys but the girls, for once, did have stiff competition.

May, it seems, has buddied up with Lillian which is probably a good thing because Lillian is really probably the worst student ever when it comes to understanding. At times, I actually spy her vaguely trying. She translates the words but it just does not compute. She is like a hard drive that has no memory, a digital with too much delay, a ‘do you feel like we do’ talk-box with no voice.

In class, I think May helps Lillian which I encourage. At one point, Sharon told me that Lillian is in this school to save face. Her mother wants her to go abroad because her cousin went abroad. Thus, Lillian must go abroad. I suppose I have heard of more nonsensical reasons but I cannot think of them offhand. Lillian, though, is actually okay. She doesn’t cause trouble. I do catch her looking at text messages and such but for the most part I think that she tries.

Now that Venice and Paul are gone. The troublesome element left with them. Venice, though he was anything but cool seemed to be the cool kid in the group which was really nothing but sad. He was one of those too cool for school kids that always had the newest gadgets. Really, I don’t mean to be mean. I don’t want to be mean. I liked Venice but he was such a disruptive element in class. Danny started hanging with him when Terry arrived because Kevin became enamored with Terry.

Danny with Venice saddened me because Danny is such a sweet boy but then he will probably be changed by America so I shouldn’t let it bother me. Nevertheless, this did bother me. Fortunately, Venice left before his bad influence affected Danny irreversibly.

So, now, we have a class that is more manageable and actually quite a bit of fun. Yes, I enjoyed them before. I understood Venice and Paul but they could make the class into one big wet Rising Sun blanket.

Now, there is so much more academic energy in the class. Some of this is due in part to my in-class point system. When we do research in the computer room every Tuesday morning for two periods, I tell them that they get 15 points for doing the work but if I catch them on a chat site or any other sites that do not pertain to research, I will deduct 5 points each time I catch them and it is completely possible to go into the negative. Since I sit at a computer in the back of the room, I can easily see what they are doing. Venice was still here when I implemented this and of course I caught him and deducted 5 points. By making an example of him, the other students did not follow him down that slippery slope. Now, they actually rat on each other. This was not a part of my original plan. I hate to think of the research periods to be looked upon as a police state, some sort of computer room Third Reich.

I know the point system seems like a no-brainer. Nevertheless, the daily point system configured with exam grades has made my life so much easier. Now when it is time to figure marks, it is much easier and much more impartial. Really, I do try to be as impartial as possible. Now that Paul and Venice are gone, being impartial is much easier.

This semester, I have started to talk about drama to the students. We have had a few lukewarm drama classes and I have not really been sure what to do to make them better. Slowly, I am learning that I do not have to do all of the work. Sometimes, the students can take the reigns and drive the buggy so to speak, even if that buggy winds up in a ditch or off a cliff.

In these initial classes, we did a few drama exercises and then I told them that I wanted them to come up with a mini-movie, something for YouTube. The girls got busy with their idea. The boys were unproductive. Whether I should blame this on Venice and Paul, I do not know. The girls had the idea to do the movie at Leta’s house and were very specific about what they wanted to do. They told me their plan which involved princesses and time travel but I did not really understand. Maybe it will be Lynchian.

The boys…well, the boys, were less detailed oriented. Their movie seemed to center around someone who farted a lot and told bad jokes. Boys will be boys. Nevertheless, their shtick is endearing.

“What is word when you say not funny joke, joke bad?” Danny asked me.
“Bad Joke,” I replied which for some reason made all the boys laugh maybe because there was not some scientific joke term for this.

Sadly, the wind got knocked out of our drama sails because first Leta was out with the measles for three weeks. Then Odile was out with the measles for two weeks. The measles mini-epidemic struck the class more than 9 weeks ago and we are still feeling the aftershock. People still get the measles?! Terry is out right now with a high fever and high anxiety. He does not have the measles.

High fever Terry and his mother are freaked out because the company that I work for which places me and handles the overseas school placement for the students told Terry and his mother not to worry about the arrangements involved in getting into a school in America. The company would take care of everything. This may be a song and dance. Terry is now without a school and it might be too late to get into a school.

I do not place the blame solely on the company. The powers that be at the company may have made a hasty promise in order to secure Terry’s enrollment at our school but I have to also take into consideration that Terry showed up halfway through the year. It would be different if he was here from the beginning in the fall. This makes me wonder what happened at the school that he attended in the fall. Nevertheless, I do want to help Terry if I can. He is freaking out.

Off and on, I, too, have had these weird deep black-holes of freak out anxiety going through me and I am not sure what they are. I cannot name them. I know that it will be okay. It is just panic. Panic with this metaphysical blackness attached! Terry’s anxiety is that of a teenager with his life ahead. Mine is not but I really have nothing to be anxious about. I am not in some bunker eating stewed squirrel and rotting potatoes.

The ringing telephones haunt me. Haunted by the ringing telephones in other offices that ring and ring and no one answers. Sometimes, I will answer the phone in the teachers’ office but I know not what to say. I stammer in broken Chinese and stuttering English. The person after saying a few things in Chinese always hangs up.
………………………………………………..

So for the last few weeks we have been studying Ancient Rome. So, Tuesday, I gave each student an emperor to research. I gave Caligula to Danny which is probably no big deal but then my friend Steve brought up the distinct possibility of Danny going and grabbing the Caligula DVD - which is readily available here - and watching it which would mean that he basically is watching a porn movie interspersed with extreme violence and debasement. So, I am hoping that he does not go out and get the film. If, by chance, he does; I suppose I will play dumb which is my easiest role.

With the study of Ancient Rome come the requisite literature and film companions. I really wanted to show the students Spartacus but Movie World did not have it nor did Even Better than Movie World and then I thought Brando's Julius Caesar would be cool as well because then I could bring Shakespeare into the bargain.

Alas, all I found was Ben Hur. The prospect of seeing several hours of Charlton Heston started to make me feel a bit, uh, ill. Maybe this is because he makes William Shatner look subtle.

Nevertheless, I am a teacher and sometimes there is unpleasantness involved. Charlton Heston -in anything but Planet of the Apes - is unpleasant viewing. Anyway, I thought I would give it a chance because it won so many academy awards back in 1959.

Really, you always think that these classic movies that won a ton of Academy Awards are irrefutable classics but then you see something like this and you realize the Oscars have always probably been a scam with some good pictures sneaking in here and there.

The one thing that I do like about the Ben Hur mythology is that Gore Vidal (supreme whiner and fussbudget, and un-credited screen writer for Ben Hur) supposedly convinced director William Wyler to direct Stephen Boyd to act as if his and Charlton Heston's characters had been lovers but he kept this from Charlton Heston because obviously Heston would have disapproved. When watching it, it is almost corny how homo the film is and how in most of the scenes it looks as if Stephen Boyd is about to give Heston a good ol' fashioned Hollywood big screen smooch. I suppose for the kitsch value there is value.


(Of course, having nothing to do with anything, Heston was discovered by a gay director who gave him his break in Peer Gynt and Julius Caesar.)

Yesterday morning when I got to school, Sharon told me that I would not have afternoon classes. The students were to visit a home for the mentally disabled in the afternoon so I would not have any afternoon classes. This was a nice surprise. I had planned to go on another search for the elusive Spartacus in between classes but then since I was not to have afternoon classes, I didn't immediately set out on my search. Since I had some time, I decided to hang out in the teachers’ office. Really, I was in no rush.

So after my morning classes and after doing a few tasks in the teachers’ office, I planned to go search for Spartacus again. As I said, I was in no rush. However, at lunchtime, after I had dawdled in the teachers’ office for awhile and was about to head out on my search for Spartacus; Sharon got a call from the special needs home. The afternoon at the home was cancelled which was not Sharon’s fault and I actually didn't even get angry or frustrated but this did mean that I had to rush out and look for the movie and have lunch and prepare my afternoon lessons before I was to teach my afternoon lessons.

Of course, I could have waited until after school but I just wanted to take care of it. And, I would have had plenty of time to go look for it after the morning classes if I had known that I was going to have to teach in the afternoon after all but at this point I have learned to go with the flow. Let the good time roll, let them knock you around. I let the good times roll me to another DVD stall where I looked and looked and did not see the movie. I pointed to the movie on the Kubrick box set. After a bit of translating and bickering, one of the workers found the movie.

Tightly holding Spartacus, I got back to school and had an hour to prepare my (two period) afternoon lesson plan; I found this really great article about the launch of a flying car. However, when I got to my desk, on my desk was a three page form of some sort, the sort of form that a student might leave, a school application form.

A few minutes later, with his high fever in tow, Terry came into the office and wanted me to fill out that form right that second. I told him that I had a lesson to prepare, the lesson plan that I was doing at the last minute because I had previously thought that I would not be teaching any lessons in the afternoon.


I told him - and I was really nice about it, not mockingly or condescendingly teacherly nice but honestly nice - that I had to finish the lesson plan and that I hoped that I could fill out the form before class but I might not have time until after class. Not that there was a lot of pressure but his mom was with him and so there was a little added pressure. It is funny a few years ago or maybe even a year ago, I would have freaked out about everything coming at me at once especially when I was not even supposed to have classes but I was relatively calm. Well, I got the lesson plan and Terry's form filled out before class so everything was fine.

And, the nice thing is that the last few days have been nice; so after I prepared the lesson plan at warp speed; I took the students to the garden for our afternoon class after their trip to the ‘head broken’ home (as they referred to it) was cancelled. Well, we went to the garden and sitting there in the sun giving the lesson and cutting up with all of them I was really happy and I wandered what could ever make me blue.

I am Yang
 
Today is the first day of the spring term. Really, I was going a little stir crazy during the break. I had a month off, more or less.

During my time off, I started obsessing about moving into another place, preferably a high rise. I have been at my current apartment for two years now and there are a few things about it that have started to get under my skin, really nothing major; I just think that it is time for a new place. Really, I have loved, have really loved this apartment while I have lived here. However, I feel it is time for a change.

When I started my search, I decided I wanted to be closer to my school. However, the school is right next to People's Square which is a really crowded overpriced area. Imagine Times Square in NYC. After a less than fruitful search, I decided I did not have to live a walk away from school since I was not that fond of any of the areas within that walk away anyway.

Also around this same time, I happened upon a scooter for sale which I went and tested. After hopping on and speeding down the block, I decided that I had to have the scooter. Adding this to the equation, walking distance to school was no longer a priority. Nevertheless, I decided I would like to live somewhere that would be convenient and that would maybe even have some cool little alleyways to ride through when riding to school. My current place is somewhat convenient but I would like a place even more convenient.

Some of this search had to do with I had nothing else to do so I spent it snooping into other people's lives via apartments. I did find a place that I thought I wanted, most everything about it I really liked. It was a duplex in a high rise which actually really wowed me. This was actually the second duplex in a high rise that I happened upon. There was a small kitchen which was fine. However, the one detail that made me pause was the tiny bathroom with a shower. After living with a shower for two years, I have decided that I really want a bathtub again. There are so many times when I just want to soak. Finding a place with a bathtub became a priority though I still longingly thought about the duplex in that 'what if?' sort of way.
Nevertheless, I decided I wanted certain things in the apartment if I moved. I want to live on the high floor of a high rise. I would like for it to be new. I want a bathtub and I want it to be a true one bedroom.

After scouring all of the online adverts and poking my nose into many bleak coldwater flats, I realized that I would not find something better than I have now and I would probably not find anything that would fit my requirements so I then started looking, not to move but really, for just the heck of it.

At one point, I came across a place that did not list the exact location but looked really nice. The advert claimed the apartment to be in a luxury high rise. This intrigued me. I wrote for more pics and an address.

However, I was disappointed because the apartment was not in the place that it claimed to be or actually I read the advert wrong. It said 'near' not 'in'. I wanted to lodge a complaint but instead I decided to look at the apartment though it seemed even more inconvenient than the no-bathtub duplex.

I called the number and arranged a viewing. The guy, a banker, wants out of his lease. He is from Hong Kon and works in Hong Kong most of the time, has an apartment in Shanghai but it is a waste of money. After looking at the apartment and the bareness within, I quickly realized he was probably never there. He had lived in the apartment for 4 months yet the plastic wrap was still around the drawers in the freezer. The apartment though nice and new with two balconies was, at this point, just gathering dust.

After looking at it, I realized it has everything I require and it is nice and new to boot. The bathtub is nice. The bathroom is small but elegant.

Convenient? The apartment is much more convenient than I had originally imagined. In fact, it is across the street from the metro which if I take the metro on rainy days will shorten my commute by probably ten or fifteen minutes. I then walked from the apartment to school and I was pleasantly surprise. The walk, though long, is for the most part along Suzhou Creek which is a large waterway that cuts through Shanghai. Thus, the waterway walk zigged and zagged along the river which will be nice when I am walking but even better in that cinematic way when I am riding my scooter along the winding river road.

Now, that I am pretty sure I will be taking this deluxe apartment in the sky, I am antsy and excited.

Last night, excited about the new term and my new apartment where I will probably move in a week or two, I had trouble drifting off to sleep. I have this musty old copy of Monkey: Journey to the West that I have been casually reading at night which I tried to read but after a few pages I could not keep my mind on the exploits of the wicked and wonderful Monkey King (Great Sage, Equal to Heaven with his cloud hopping shoes) so I put the book down and tried to sleep.
 
Sleep did not come easy. Sleep was the last thing on my mind. My mind was racing, thinking about everything coming and going and developing at the moment.
 
Though I had been thinking exclusively about the new apartment, I started thinking about school. There is just so much potential with this school which I am now the project manager. An opportunity has been placed in my lap that I want to make into something really cool and at the same time – dare i say it - successful. For the most part, everyone is standing back and letting me do my thing which is the best way for me to work. I suppose I have never been the type who likes to be micro-managed. That is probably why I love this company for whom I have worked the last three years.
 
My boss Edgar is a dreamer at heart, a successful dreamer. Of course, not all of his plans, schemes and dreams work out but he tries; he seriously tries which I admire. He has never been a naysayer when it comes to me and what
I want to accomplish at this school and with the students.
 
With that being said, last semester when I was told I would have 2 additional classes this term, I really did not object. I knew that I would be given the freedom to do what I saw fit and beyond that an opportunity to make that opportunity into something cool and maybe even wonderful.
 
So, now, after talking to the students this morning, this semester we will embark on a dramatic path. Thespians of the world beware. There is a new sheriff of Shakespeare in town.
 
Of course, the sheriff has a lot of explaining to do. The assignment this morning was for the students to write what they would like to do in drama class. Keep in mind; I have access to a video camera and the school television studio. Maybe this time, The Magic Red Monkey Show will happen for sure.
 
Of course, they want a lot of footage of Paul dancing. Venice suggested that Kevin dress like a chicken – or maybe I suggested that. Elliot wanted to read more books and newspapers.
 
This is where the sheriff had to explain to Elliot that we were actually talking about drama. I then had to explain what drama is. Now Elliot, I love and I must add has made great progress but has a tendency to be unaware of what is happening around him. Sometimes, I have to stop and ask him if he is looking at the right passage when we are reading which never fails to make Danny giggle. So, today, I had to explain drama. With Elliot, the cognition is nearly cognitive.
 
"Oh, oh, I know," he told me
"Fantastic Elliot," I told him. "Actually, you have a great idea. We can make newspaper stories into dramas and videotape them."
With that he beamed, knowing that he had come up with such a great idea.
Leta suggested we go to the theater, another great idea.
"Yes, we can watch actors perform, notice what they do right?!"
 
So, I walked around and looked at the various suggestions that the students had written or were writing. Kevin and Danny wrote variations on Paul dancing. Paul could not defend himself because Sharon told me that he has redeye which I assume to be pinkeye but that I cannot be sure about that.
 
When I got back to the office, I talked to Sharon. At times, our relationship is a labored one but then at other times we are aligned in our way of thinking and teaching. Maybe, we are allingned today because this is the first day of the term, the spring term at that, and both of us are excited and want to start out positively but whatever the case; today, Sharon and I are doing well.
 
She asked me about the arts class that I am to teach.
 
"Do you need different classroom?" She asked. "Maybe it will be a little noisy."
"That would be great if I had access to a room to do drama."
"I will talk to the department leader. There is another room with piano and music equipment like piano. Maybe room if you want to teach music."
"That would be great."
"And there is a room for television."
"I could use that as well," I told her. "I had a hard time getting to sleep last night because I was so excited about the new term."
"You sure?" She asked. That is her response for about anything. At first, it seemed very confrontational but now I realize it is just her way.
 
At the end of last term, she asked me if I had an idea of what I wanted the students to study over the break. To me, studying during a break is a bunch of manure. I never studied over the breaks when I was a student. I would rather the students enjoy themselves. But then, maybe I am sensitive and I just don't want the students cursing me behind my back. Nevertheless, the students should enjoy their breaks not be piled up or down with homework.
 
To keep from arguing, I told her that they could buy Charles and Mary Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare. This introduction to the Shakespeare's stories is perfect for these students, to give them a simplistic overview of this work that will frequently be referenced in years to come when they are at university. She wanted to buy a copy of the book for Jane to reward Jane for her hard work during the term. Incidentally, this term Jane did not come back. She has transferred to a school set up by a Hong Kong company.
 
Nevertheless, at the end of last term - which in many ways is like a television season finale cliffhanger - when I told Sharon where to buy the book her auto reply was –
"You sure?"
Over and over - like a broken record or like the unbroken vinyl copy of Sgt Pepper's and Piper at the Gates of Dawn – I told her I was sure. This broken record discourse went on for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Admittedly, I did want to strangle her.
"You sure?"
 
This semester, I decided, I want to start fresh. She is who she is and that is fine. Really, I do like her. She works hard. She cares about the students. She has a good sense of humor. She understands - or at least tolerates - my quirks. She makes the class schedule and she only gives me early classes if there is no one else to teach them and she must teach the public school students. She knows that I do not like to teach the earliest class of the day.

However, when it comes to our personalities or auras, we are truly yin and yang, me being yang or thinking at least that I am yang. Maybe she thinks that she is yang. I am yang dangit. I am yang! I AM YANG!
 
"Maybe you need to relax more," she told me in response to my sleeplessness.
 
"Well, when I was drifting off to sleep, last night, just as my eyes shut –
BOOM! BOOM!...BOOM!.........BOOM!.....BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOOOOOOM! BOOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM! BOOOM!"
"You sure?"
"Yeah! Then I was wide awake. After the belated New Years Celebration next door at midnight, I could not get to sleep for hours after that!"
"Oh, I have big problem too!" She told me in response.
"What happened?"
"I program phone to wake me this morning."
"And?"
"Phone rings. Outside dark. Maybe rain I think"
"There were clouds this morning," I interjected.
"I wake and I prepare myself for school. I go to car. I turn on car."
"Yeah?"
"I look at clock," she paused.  "5:45!"

"Oh no!"
"Phone I set wrong, hour early."
"Did you go back into your house and sleep."
"No, I thought maybe I have a rest in car."
"In your car?"
"But then I think 'I drive to school.' So I drive to school very slow."
"Very slow?"
"Yeah because the doors might not be open so I drive very slow."