Shadow

Language is the beautiful, complex, and intricate gift that we've all acquired throughout our lives. Sometimes if we're lucky we'll become fluent in more than one, maybe even four. There are these simple words, and then by arranging them in proper and meaningful patterns, one can create images, emotions, and stories that can be told for decades and centuries. Some of us are naturally gifted with these things called words. We call it "being articulate" where these beautiful little diamonds and sparkles literally roll off our tongues and flitter throughout the air to tickle and sparkle up the minds of those who cross paths with you. That's nice. Then there are those of us who can do nothing but sputter grains of sand. They mean nothing and are combobbled because of the infinite number of grains of sand that are in existence. No matter how much sand we sputter out, diamonds never appear, there is no twinkle. Sometimes because of the mass quantity it allows us to be noticed. "Woah, look at that dude who is knee-deep in sand." "She's got her own personal sandbox". I've been known for having crazy metaphors, but sometimes I really envision these things coming out of peoples mouths. It's quite entertaining. That's what happens when we put words together.

Then, sometimes there are just words that stand alone and hold power in themselves. Think of the emotions, thoughts, and connotations with each of the following words: 

grace. 

holocaust.

justice. 

death. 

love.

Depending on how your day has gone so far, some of you might already be shedding tears. It can take just one word to spark an emotion, whether that be discontent, sorrow, or joy. I remember just one word that my mom spoke to me that ignited something within. "Cancer".

So my point of being on this little "word-kick" thing is because of what I discovered while I was in China. Being in China for July 2010 was my first time leaving the United States for a significant period of time (not that a month is a significant period of time...but it wasn't a day trip).  Prior to ever leaving the country I had envisioned that the world was so incredibly different from what I had known and experienced for 20 years. I had imagined as if there was this magical barrier along both coastlines of the United States and as soon as your plane crosses through, you immediately become a different person. You become a "wold traveler", who is a totally different person than "lame-US-college-kid". It would be this majestical experience and your skin would tingle and sparkles would fly and maybe Tinkerbell would appear. My imagination bubble was soon popped as I found out that in fact absolutely none of the previously stated things occurred, including the appearance of Tinkerbell. I also realized that there is no 'feeling' that comes with being in another country. I thought it would be an overwhelming feeling that reminded you every second that you were in a foreign land. Not the case.

Throughout {prettymuch} all languages there is this verb "to be". In Spanish, it's "estar", and in other languages...it's something else. "To be" is so incredibly powerful when you really think about all that it entails. Think of the famous "to be or not to be" by...Shakespere? J.K. Rowling?...someone famous. It took me a few weeks to realize that while I was in China, I was still every bit Kayla. Of course, Kayla was learning things everyday and taking in new culture and environments, but the physicality and reality of "Kayla" was just the same. Contrary to my belief of living in a 'parallel universe' I realized that my reality traveled with me where ever I go. This reminds me of an image from J.M. Barry's "Peter Pan", where Peter is so distraught that he has lost his shadow. In reality, a shadow goes with you wherever you go and never leaves you, just as ones reality. Just as memories, experiences, and relationships. This China experience is always going to be incorporated in my shadow. The relationships that I made accross the world, and in my own bubble of Messiah College are going to remain with me as long as there is light to shine upon them. Everything that I have done, everyone who I have met I have incorporated into a part of myself and how I roll. Is it possible for me to leave myself? Ke$ha might actually be on to something when she says "we R who we R". Allow me to modify: "I am who I am", and that is the same person who is here, who is in China, who is in Ireland, who is lost at sea. Way to go Ke$ha, you have ever so slightly redeemed yourself. You have a long way to go.

Interesting. If we are to take the statement "I am who I am" and modify one word, we end up with "I Am that I Am." There's a really famous guy who said that (or girl, depending upon your theology). It's recorded in Exodus 3:14. Changing that one little word can change the entire conversation. Food for thought.

You are always going to be you no matter where you are. Physically, spiritually, mentally.  The 'you' of different times and eras of life may be totally different to some degree, but there is always going to be a foundation that remains the same and composes us of the basics of who we are. This basic foundation that is never exactly clear. Sometimes we live our whole lives with qualities and characteristics we didn't know that we had until our deathbeds. The Great I Am knows how and with what we were created. It's our mission and responsibility how to figure out how to use it.

Miss Liu as Moses

In referencing back to "I Am that I Am", I will leave you with a memory. In our curriculum this past summer, we had particular lessons that incorporated "special guests". These special guests just so happened to correlate with what we were learning about. For instance, Mother Theresa just so happened to show up the day we were learning about India, Pele came the day we learned about Brazil. One of my favorite people of all time showed up one day in my classroom (literally and figuratively). We were learning about Egypt and the wonderful and beautiful history and importance of that country when out of nowhere Moses busted up all in my classroom. I was so surprised and happy to see Moses. In reality, it was really Miss Liu, whom I was still excited to see, however Moses was our very first "special guest" so the kids had absolutely no idea that anyone was coming. Miss Liu and I played up the experience that Moses had walked to LongDe from Egypt and needed to sit down and rest. The kids were so honored and excited to hear Moses's story about parting the Red Sea and "making a difference for the people" (we had to be careful with our language). They had so many questions, and didn't understand the concept of 'slavery', and thought that Miss Liu was so funny with her old voice. With that, I leave you with this challenge. Just like Moses, be a leader in what He calls you to do. For not all are called to be leaders, but all are called to lead by example.

Arise

Teaching in America is different from teaching in China. Teaching music is way different than teaching English. That's not really a strong statement or argument to start a blog post on. I just can't seem to come up with a sentence that would overall connect everything that is running through my mind so I thought I would throw out some obvious facts out into the open.

Student teaching is a time of transition, a time of straddling two worlds, still a student and almost a full fledged adult. Working with and teaching kids who are only four years younger than you. Nothing gets past them. I talk to kids every day, celebrate with them as their acceptance letters to college roll in, as they rehearse endless hours for their musical, and as they look for distractions in class as opposed to working on music theory worksheets.

I had some free time at the piano today, as I had a free period and the choir room all to myself. It was truly a blissful thing. It was as if any composition that had ever sprouted from my fingertips was recanted to fill the choir room, everything just flowed with little thought or hesitation. While in this process a song that I had written my senior year of high school began, and my mind was sent on this train of thought between the similarities and differences between being a senior in high school and a senior in college. I was horrendously troubled about leaving high school. It was so much fun, I had friends and memories and  I loved nearly every aspect about it. I can tell you that leaving college is going to be horrendously troubling as well. Times of transition and change are not my forte (musical pun!). Back in the day (all four years ago) in efforts to deal with all that was occurring I decided to express myself through a healthy outlet of composing and writing song after song. Today I was given a fresh wind of all that had settled.

Ever been moved by your own writing? It sounds really weird to say, but in reflecting upon the insight that I had four years ago, I realized today how moved I was by what I had written. That person was a different person, and yet I was still able to communicate to the me of today. And by no means am I saying this to 'pump myself up' or to say 'woah, I'm such an inspirational person'. Eww...never. I was just moved at the power of words and imagery that specifically radiates with what I'm experiencing at my current stage of life.

For as much as I am loving my current life in the day-to-day, I am (unhealthily) choosing to ignore the major transition that is quickly creeping up on me. A time of transition and making decisions, a time that I am not looking forward to in the least. We all have major places and turning points in life. I wanted to encourage you with the lyrics of the song that I wrote. Today, they provided for me a release and realization. Hopefully you'll be able to take something away from them, or at least temporarily dwell in the emotion of change.

Arise (May'07)

"Remembering yesterday, sadly watch it slip away.
Lost in the Memories of what has been,unsure of whats to come.

A part of me left behind as I replay those memories inside my mind.

Wishing for moments I cant get back as tears stream down.
 

As darkness falls the night prevails.

((chorus))
Im starting over.

Another dawn will soon arise and shine.

A new beginning, I gotta leave all my past behind.

It's time to move on.

Wondering who I will be, will I ever fulfill my destiny?

The past forever a part of my soul,
torn between two worlds.

And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
May these memories never fade, I pray.
May they calm the night

Gray skies unveil the break of day.

My dreams are ready to ignite.
No turning back,
Pray to God I'll be allright.
No Mistakes,
I'm stronger than before.
Spread my wings and soar.

Im starting over.

Another dawn will soon arise (arise).

A new beginning, new adventures I can't wait to find.

Embracing the memories.

Learn from the past, it's time to move on.
A new beginning, new adventures I can't wait to find.

I'll find my new dawn."

Walking Rocks

I find it interesting that every time I dip into a new blog post, I literally dip into a different mindset. I am well aware that I am behind the times a little as I just finished watching Inception for the first time (ever), and my mind already feels slightly trippy. Where am I now, in reality? It feels almost like a dream, writing these memories, blurring this past that occurred on the other side of the world. How many times has the world revolved, round and round, since that experience? I never was a numbers person...

First shot of Hong Kong

For my last and final semester of college I am student teaching at a nearby high school, a choir of around 200 kids, a couple music theory classes, sectionals, and kids just dying for someone to hear them sing. I'm realizing more and more how some kids have this natural way of 'sticking out' at you, as a teacher. There's a part of me that absolutely can't stand this because my mind so desperately wants to treat every student as equal, all as capable, competent, and well-mannered as the other. Unfortunately, that is not the way that it goes. It is a testament to our individuality and individualism. Odd, because I've always been happy to inform anyone that I am an individual, yet now as I transition to this adult world, there's this part of me that wants everyone to be the same, equality and justice for all. I know that that was not the case this past summer, and I'm even more aware that it is not possible in my current situation. I'll have to unpack that later I guess.

We all live experiences, and all of those experiences have a beginning somewhere. Sometimes we are lucky in that we have no idea how big or meaningful an experience will be before we begin. Therefore, we have limited expectations and just dive right in. Sometimes expectations get in the way and scary things must happen before an experience can be underway. Sometimes that means getting into the car and driving to the airport, sometimes it means facing our emotions and allowing them to be set free. Think about it, getting down on one knee, abort or keep the baby, taking the step onto the actual stage before the congregation. There is always a point of turning back, somewhere. Sometimes we pass that point with ease. Other times we have to stop and deliberate long and hard, mentally battling ourselves to either continue or turn around.

When I think of 'memories' I try to start at the beginning. It's not like I can account for every hour of flight across the Pacific, but I do remember watching "How to Train Your Dragon", and clips of "The Notebook" as I dozed in and out of consciousness. Upon arriving to Hong Kong, we were so very tired. We had an hour bus ride before we made it to the ferry, and we had an hour ferry ride before we made it to our island where we had training. I somehow remember assembling myself across a couple of seats. I also remember clear as day Danielle standing over my face, slapping my cheeks. I looked to see my limbs spread wide, a person gripping each, shaking. Apparently there was slight fear that I was dead. 

I don't know if you know this, but there are a lot of stairs at the Great Wall of China. This may come as a shock, but climbing all of them makes one really tired. It's funny because there is a part of me that is like "Kayla, they are just stairs, suck it up." For all I know, that is what you're thinking too. Trust me when I say that it was one of the most physically demanding challenges of my life. I think about this because I recently listened to a song by Caedmon's Call, the lyrics proclaiming "...had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view. Looking back I see the lead of love."Let me tell you that the sight at the top was one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. Perspective is a beautiful thing because now when I think about that experience, despite being so tired, the first thing that pops in my mind isn't the thousands of stairs we climbed, it's the glorious big picture, the view from the top. Now, I have come to love that journey and I know that I have been on that journey because He loves me.

Sometimes, it's easy to hate the journey we are on. It can be hard, we can stumble, or even sometimes we may hate it for the fact that we do not feel challenged enough (one could argue that these are the scariest journeys). I'm not quite sure if this is my personal attitude thing, or a humanity thing, but I have come to find that perspective has brought me to love every journey that I have been on. Rocks can cut, inflict pain, and kill, but they also build and support a foundation.

Mary Beth & Danielle "warming up"

In thinking of mountains, the great Liupan Mountain comes to mind. The great Liupan Mountain was merely a half hours drive from LongDe, so of course we were taken to see it. It truely was a beautiful day as our van weaved up this mountain, bend after bend. We arrived to what seemed to be a national park of sorts. We realized that there was a building on the top of this mountain, housing a museum of the important historical role the Liupan Mountain played in Chairman Mao's progression to power (wish I could tell you more, but the entire museum was in Chinese... I saw a lot of pictures though and made up my own stories. They're probably not historically accurate.) Danielle and Mary Beth thought it would be fun to race up the stairs to the top (literally 200 stairs or so). They forgot to take in the altitude factor, so both were exceedingly winded upon arriving to the top. Quite entertaining.

That's our van in the bottom right hand corner!

While touring the museum, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with emotion as I saw pictures of Chinese armies and photos from the Chinese Civil war. Living in America, we've seen photos of war our entire education, by the time fifth grade rolls around we've become numb to the sound of bullets and wasted bodies. Well, this wasn't the case at Liupan Mountain. I was so overwhelmed that so many lives had been lost. I was even more overwhelmed at the concept of "why?" I did not know a single soul in those pictures, they were taken decades before I was even born. At the time, I felt like a crazy over-emotional girl, but now I realize that it's the beauty and humanity within each of us. Realizing that harm was done to some, therefore harm is done to all really struck something within me, a light dizzy feeling and a complex that the mind is unable to comprehend on its own. In some crazy way, I now feel verified that I have a soul.

We stood at the top of Liupan Mountain for a long time, taking in the beauty, and awing the fact that we were actually at the mountain that everyone had been talking to us about. Literally...forty times. We took time for pictures, jumping pictures, team pictures, photoshoot pictures, and we also took some time to sit on some stairs and bust out our rendition of "Lean on Me". That's my memory for today.

Chairman Mao's famous poem, atop the Liupan Mountain.

我最喜欢的记忆 (My Favorite Memory)

I'm a person who is all about the memories and melodies. Photo opportunities, crazy ideas, and (most likely) a song coming out of my mouth. I'm learning to cope, and so are the people around me. During our time in LongDe China, every second was an opportunity for a memory or photo. I was blessed to be on a team with nine other women. Nine wonderful women who I could (and would) consult as sisters in a heartbeat. It's been truely beautiful as our lives begin to take their form back here in the U.S. and we are still able to keep our experience alive amongst ourselves. Yay for beauty.

Team One : Stephanie, Danielle, Kayla, Kristina, Jane

Team Two: Alyssa, Lian, Tiffany, Mary Beth, Phiet

The rainbow that we drove through.

It quickly became a tradition of our teams to take 'jumping photos' anywhere that we went. They're fun, right? And unpredictable, and they make you stand out from the surroundings around you. That basically encompasses our entire experience in LongDe. (Looking past the fact that it made us scream out "Hey, we're crazy foreigners", it provided quite the wealth of entertainment for those who watched us. Our translators and posse thought that it was endearing and even tried to get in on the fun a few times.) I don't think that any of us can deny the fun that we had. Yes, even on the days that were to be for 'resting', that instead resulted in twelve hour trips, risking our lives on a car trip through the clouds and around corners with thousand foot drops. (You think I'm kidding?) God always has a way of being faithful. The sights that we saw were so exceptionally majestic that no photo device could ever capture them properly. We were so high in the clouds that we actually realized that we were driving through a rainbow. Allow me to repeat that again, we were driving through a rainbow. Through a rainbow! Who gets to do that ever?! I love rainbows. Besides being beautiful I think that they stand for so much hope and promise that is incomprehensible to our human minds. The amazing part was that it came at just the right time. Our van, quickly climbing up this mountain, raising hundreds and thousands of feet and we twist and turn around bend after boulder after bend. Oh, never mind the truck in the other lane, twice as big as the designated lane, coming the opposite way, missing our van by centimeters while rocks from underneath our wheels tumble off the ledge to a new home a couple thousands feet below. It's safe to say that chaos and panic were rising within that van. I recall sitting next to my [freakin' awesome] team leader, Kristina, trembling with excitement and fear inside. Luckily for me, I had a window seat that allowed me to see oncoming traffic and not the alternate universe below us. But trust me, I could hear screams and squeals, and yes, even tears. Kristina took the opportunity to capture a wonderful video, which now I would pay money to see. The end of the story is this: we eventually made it to our destination which ended up being the beautiful and serene "Dragon Lake." Those tales for another time...

Let's see, other crazy memories. Oh dear, so many to choose from. Well, I previously mentioned that 'jumping photos' are fun, unpredictable, and make you stand out. These were lessons we quickly learned when we entered LongDe. Even within the first hours. 

When we arrived in the city we were immediately welcomed with a banquet. We were briefed during training in Hong Kong that we would most likely be attending Chinese banquets, and had to be coached on the proper manners. For example, you do not choose your seats, the hosts choose for you. Toasts are appropriate. There will be as many as 30 to 50 dishes of food sitting on the lazy susan in front of you, you must try them all to be polite (praise the Lord we were able to get away with this sometimes). The point of a Chinese banquet is not to finish your food. If you do, you insult the host. By them bringing the food and displaying it they are showing and representing themselves. To eat it all would make them lose face. It was also explained that we (as the guests) should have some mode of entertainment prepared, as entertainment would be an appropriate 'thank you' towards our hosts. There's a variety of other rules as well but I'm currently drawing a blank.

Dont be fooled: the beds were boards and the pillows sacks of oats. Our cozy home.

Anyways, we were then escorted to our place of stay, which was thankfully just behind where we ate. We moved our belongings into rooms on the first floor of the 'hotel'. After settling in, one of the school officials came back and scolded the hotel employers that the first floor is far too damp for the foreigners, so we were moved upstairs. We repacked our things and hauled them up the uneven stairs to new rooms. (Ok, I know people say that stairs are 'uneven' all the time, but trust me, it really messes with your psyche when you continue to trip over things that are there that shouldn't be. It's not like you could walk down these stairs and not look at them...you had to watch your step. That was just a side note--a little more detail in case you cared.)

Team LongDe with Mary (center)

That very night we were invited to our first official banquet. The room we entered had a round table the size of a swimming pool. We entered and the lazy susan was spinning with vegetables, breads, and various other things. The ten of us were terrified out of our minds. We did not want to screw this up. We were the first foreigners to ever be in LongDe, we had a lot riding on this. Then entered the school officials. I can't tell you who they are... they all kinda looked the same, but there were about ten men, then the governor of LongDe (a woman), and our soon favorite Mary. Mary, over the course of our time there, was more or less our tour guide. She taught English at LongDe Middle School #2 ( I taught at #1) and quickly became friends with all of us, moreso with LongDe team 2.

There was a lot of hesitation, but we all eventually found our places, Kristina and MaryBeth joined as one, knowing that they had to lead all of us through this, and even give a toast along the way. The governor of LongDe expressed her thanks and appreciation for us being there and then recited a Chinese Poem. This poem was particularly important because it was about the great, the famous Liupan Mountain. I realize that means nothing to most of you, and that's fine. There are so many stories about this mountain that I could sit here and type nonstop and still fear that graduation would come before I get to type them all out. 

Our banquet consisted of dish after dish, toast after toast. They quickly realized that we didn't drink alcohol and so we toasted with orange juice. This however, did not stop them from alcohol consumption. After about the fifth toast we began to dread when someone would rise with a glass in hand. We would dread even more when they finished their speech with "bottoms up". Throughout the course of the evening there were nine toasts. Please, allow me to get across to you that consuming nine glasses of orange juice in one sitting is not good for anyones digestive system.

About one and a half hours into our banquet we as team LongDe arose together to entertain our hosts. We appropriately aligned and busted out a three part "lean on me" sequence along with side steps and snapping. If anything it was a testament to the true power of music because the look of joy and appreciation on the faces of the men in that room were as if they were little children getting to ride a ferris wheel for the first time. After our completion they quickly begged for more. Honored, we agreed to sing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Eh, we forgot the words, and there was no choreography, but we made it work. Well, the power of music quickly spread because then a group of the school officials had a Chinese song that they wanted to sing for us. Mmmm, it was quite the experience. They were so proud of themselves as the song was completed, they quickly passed off that the next song should be sung by us. We soon realized that we had accepted participation in a sing off, America vs. China, all for the sake of entertainment. After an hour of Chinese songs and random American songs, I began to scathingly hate the power of music. Within that time I participated in a duet of "A Whole New World", and various other Disney songs. The sing off (and more toasting) continued another half hour, at which point our team leaders so graciously made it known that we were tired and needed to sleep. The school officials quickly agreed and escorted us out as we made our way back to our rooms. Damn you, power of music.

Summer Dream in trees with the "Class 3" flag.

I need you to know that when I say 'this is my favorite memory' I don't just mean that this is my favorite memory from China. I'm saying that this is perhaps my favorite memory from my whole life, one that I will tell my children, my husband, the world. I will say this, my favorite memory did in fact involve the power of music. For as much as I try to stop it, deny it, and keep it under control it's this thing that just flows out of me. I was able to incorporate this into my class on a daily basis. It was blatantly clear that class Summer Dream would be singing every day. I'm your teacher, therefore you sing. Inspired by the above story, the first song that I taught them was "lean on me", complete with hand motions and clapping. This of course, did not all happen in one day, it took time. Summer Dream quickly became my first practice choir. The language barrier proved for some difficulty, but they made it known that their favorite part of every class was when Miss Kayla would sing to them. 
We learned a whole variety of songs. One of my favorites to teach them was "You Are My Sunshine". This song means so much to me personally just because of my childhood, and because I've taken on the nickname 'sunshine' throughout my college years. In class I explained to them that in America, you can substitute the word 'sunshine' for girlfriend or boyfriend. That got them giggling like no other. (That's another thing--it is very rare that you can get a crowd of Chinese students to erupt in laughter like students would here. All laughing is kept to giggles and hidden behind a hand or an arm that they put up to cover their face.) Me, being the culturally insensitive drill sargent that I am (I say that with sarcasam) told the boys that they had to perform this song for the ladies, using the word 'girlfriend' instead of sunshine. Of course, Mateo was all into it but the rest of the guys weren't. They girls had to do the same, perform for the boys. Barely any singing was done due to the high amount of giggling and flushed cheeks. Oops :)

Cindy & I

That was background information. Our final day as I have mentioned in previous posts was very interesting. For those of you just tuning in we had a closing ceremony at which we all bawled our eyes out. This was the last time we would ever be together as a group, to live the Summer Dream. I previously posted about Kristy and how she sobbed in my arms. I didn't tell you what happened next. You see, as she was being held by me, she began to drag me over to a section of the courtyard where the remainder of my class had gathered in a semi circle. Jaime stood in the middle, waving our pink "Class 3" flag loud and proud. My students heads were bowed, surround sound sniffles. I was approached by my student Cindy who quickly came to the middle of the semicircle. She led the class in the song "Njalo" which I taught them the day we learned about South Africa.  I was touched. They were able to remember the songs that I had taught them, on their own, they didn't need me there to lead them. I knew in that moment that I had left a song in their heart and a way for them to always remember Summer Dream. "Njalo" ended and I graciously applauded them, so excited for their gift. The crowd somewhat disassembled and I assumed all was over, that is until I heard Cindy taking charge. It sounded like this: "chinese-chinese-chinese-chinese-SUNSHINE-chinese-chinese-KAYLA-chinese-SUNSHINEKAYLA" and my class instantly regrouped to perform as Summer Dream for one last time:

"You are my Kayla, My only Kayla

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear how much I love you.

Please don't take my Kayla away."

Instant tears.

-康女

Alpha (fe)Male

As life progresses, most humans become more self aware of who they are and who they're not. What gifts and talents they have and with what talents they have not. It is in the hopes of getting older that one becomes at peace with what is given to them and at peace with who they are, and then use that person to change the world with what they've been given. There is one person who I never was, and never will be. I was never that girl in high school. The cool one, leader of a pack, any pack, several packs. I was a serious academic goofball. Who giggled a lot. I'm realizing now that it's becoming incorporated in my teaching style, which seems to work for most people. But it didn't work for Kristy.

It's actually kind of ironic how sometimes a name totally fits the person that it's given to. Do we grow into these names, or is it just coincidence? I recall compiling a sheet of English names to allow my students to pick from. Coming up with 50 names is a lot harder than one might originally imagine it to be. Regardless, as I was compiling this list I was thinking to myself "Whitney--thats a name for a party girl." "Matt--thats a name for a heart breaker." "Bruno--thats a name form a beefy dude." "Kristy--thats a name for a really cool girl." Destiny, my friends. Destiny. 

(ps, no offense to those of you named Whitney, Matt, or Bruno.)

Jenna and Kristy being crafty. Can you see her gray streaks?

Kristy was that girl. It became very clear even from the first day that Kristy played a huge role in the social realm of Summer Dream. She was always being clung to by other members of class, and always had a smile spread across her face, especially when the boys were around. Kristy had a "cool" factor. Just like the movies, she could be walking down the hallway at school and every head would turn and the boys would drop their books and this heavenly glow would follow her in a five foot bubble. I caught myself in my head (as the teacher) saying "wow, I want to be like Kristy."

Kristy was my secret girl crush, and my biggest struggle. Kristy was blatantly the lowest ability English speaker in my classroom. For the first few days while she would chit-chat away when I was teaching I tried all the tricks in the book. The "proximity factor" where you as the teacher move closer towards whatever distraction is in the room. The "staring", "Waiting game"...of course, I couldn't do these for too long, it made me feel mean inside. It wasn't until we took an afternoon to have "girl talk" and "boy talk". This opportunity was spawned after the heavens decided to open up and not allow us to play various outside activities. I brought a bag of Starburst and the kids were set to go (seriously... they went crazy over it). While having "girls talk", we allowed them to talk about hopes and dreams, more personal stuff than what one would say in front of a classroom of twenty. I recall going around the circle and asking each of my 9 girls various questions. As soon as I would ask Kristy a question she would immediately lean over to a friend and speak Chinese. Her answers would come, very slow, and in very poor English. It was then I realized that all of the side conversation was a translation. We were trained that there would be talking in our classrooms and students would ask each other questions, but Kristy was my only student who really struggled. All I received from Kristy were blank stares. Oh, she would laugh if I did something goofy (which was an every other minute occurrence). She would constantly have her phone out, translating from English to Chinese. 

Yes, those are real mountains in the background.

Kristy was certainly not a star student, but she still had that 'it' factor. She didn't wear the school uniform like the other students. She had this flowing black hair, streaked with gray. She had the walk of a model, and the laugh of a child. I learned that she was my only student who actually lived there at the school full time (while others, like Jaime, would go home on the weekends). When there were boys, there was Kristy. And they listened to her. Our final day we spent the morning going on a photo scavenger hunt. Twenty pictures, two hours. One of the assigned tasks was to spell out your teachers name using your body. So together, Summer Dream assembled to spell "Kayla". I have never seen so much sheer chaos in my life. Kristy directing the way, twenty minutes later, my name was spelled on the field. All I could do was stand back and laugh...and take the picture for proof.

Kristy was oober crafty, just like many girls in China. Her favorite day of all time was when we learned about the American wedding. We brought in rolls upon rolls of toilet paper, and the classes were to dress up their teachers for a "bridal fashion show". Although we had planned for this to take like, a half an hour, our students got super into it. An hour later, they were still designing our dresses, adding on the most meticulous details with toilet paper and tape. Kristy, my fashionista, had to make sure that Miss Kayla looked all right. One of her fellow students placed the flower in not the right spot so she had to do it all over again. I have never felt so pampered in my life as to when my kids decorated me with toilet paper. We tried out several bouquets and colors to match my hair (mind you these were flowers that were stolen from the auditorium decorating). All of the students were so proud of what they had done, but not a face shone brighter in the room than Kristy's.

American brides? Miss Stephanie, Miss Jane, Miss Liu, and myself.

As a teacher, I quickly felt so disconnected from her because of the communication barrier. I often wondered if I had enlightened her life at all if all she was doing was getting translations day after day. It wasn't until the closing ceremony. We were originally told that the ceremony would be on Saturday morning, and then we would leave. However, as they often happen in Asia, plans change rather quickly and you just have to go for it. Our ceremony was moved to the previous day, cutting in on quality time with our students. As soon as the ceremony began, it was over. Huge 'to-do's are never very long, our closing ceremony lasting a matter of 15 minutes as we handed a certificate to each of our students. Jaime, stepping up to shake my hand "Miss Kayla, I'm so proud of you", and Kristy, already tears welling in her eyes.

We progressed outside to take pictures, say our final goodbyes and Kristy patiently stood in line to hug me. As she approached she collapsed on my chest, sobbing, wailing as if at a funeral. "Miss Kayla, don't go. Please don't go. Miss Kayla I love you, don't go." What does one say to that? I responded with tears and tighter squeezes. Perhaps I did make a difference after all.

There is no way Im finishing this post on that note. There still is one memory of Kristy left, a memory that leaves me joy and spurts giggles from my gut. You see, we progressed into the most extensive photoshoot I have ever been a part of, lasting an hour and a half in length. Every student wanted their own picture with the teachers, then every friend group wanted a picture with the teachers, then strangers off the street wanted pictures with the foreign teachers...lots of smiling to be so sad inside. At one point my Summer Dreamers gathered around, jabbering in Chinese, myself just nodding and smiling, as always. Out of nowhere Kristy's voice level raises. She begins shouting and jumping, pointing, a look on her face of determination and slight anger. She slaps Mateo across the arm and he begins to run across the street, dodging three wheeled cars and cyclists. The remainder of the class starts go giggle and laugh and Kristy comes over to embrace me. I inquired as to what just happened. "Mah-few go get ice cream. Your favorite." And minutes later, Mateo returned with five ice creams in hand, one for each of us foreign teachers. Thank you, Kristy, for being the leader of the pack.

-康妮

It says "Queen of Pop", not poop. I swear.

Class Clown

If there is something in my life that I must have on a daily basis, it would have to be humor. I could live without the coffee, a shower, or socks but I know that a day is not complete if I haven't laughed or found something to be funny. Trust me, chocolate is pretty high up there too, but laughing causes the same effects. There is something special about laughing with a group of people who are different from you, laughing with a group of people when there is a huge communication barrier.

Every class has a "class clown". A show-off, a trouble-maker, a kid who likes to stir the pot. For class Summer Dream, Matthew played that role rather well. I can't tell you what his family is like, or about his childhood, but I can tell you about his lifelong ambition: to become a famous singer. Matthew was by far one of my most enthusiastic students, the most into the songs that we sang, and the most persistent when it came to carrying the Summer Dream banner. He's this kid that you just have to love.

There is a flower petal stuck to my head. Matthew put it there.

My earliest memory of Matthew would be on day four of teaching. I was starting to get into a routine in the classroom and beginning to feel confident in what I was doing. I developed this habit of "Teach Teacher" at the end of class that the kids absolutely adored. It allowed them the opportunity for them to teach me Chinese, to give back for the hours of English I was teaching them. I had learned all sorts of phrases (little did I realize the ridiculous accent that the people of LongDe spoke with---my little Chinese is pretty much worthless in all other places in China). I also developed a habit of allowing students to reflect on the day (in English) and allowed them an opportunity to pretty much say whatever they wanted (as long as it was in English). Day four came around and Matthew volunteered to speak. He stood at his desk, head down, reading a piece of paper on his desk. In front of the whole class, he proclaimed his love for Miss Kayla and for summer camp, spoke about how much he is learning and how he never wants it to end. To top it all off, Matthew finished his reflection with a tear. Ever not know what to do in a situation? I honestly can't remember how I reacted or what I said, but I do know that it was the talk of the teachers office that day after school.

Mateo leadin' the way with his cool moves and love for dancing.

From that point on Matthew (or as I had a habit of calling him Mateo) became quite the little bugger, in a good way. His energy was unreal and he was always trying to show off when we played sports in the afternoon. He was a leader in his own way, the cool kid. If Mateo gave it a try, everyone else would too. One of my favorite times in the classroom was when I got to play music. They had a cable that would allow me to connect and play my ipod through an ancient TV in the classroom. Every day, the kids received a 15 minute break to go play with Miss (Kristina) Bennett, and I would take that time to regroup, clean up the class, play a few tunes and dance around the classroom. Mind you, we were in China at the end of the World Cup 2010 so all the kids wanted to talk about was sports. I (in complete honesty) had lost all interest in the World Cup since all of the teams I wanted to win were eliminated in the first round. Nonetheless, I had been jammin away in my own classroom when Mathew came bursting through the door, sweaty and out of breath. He immediately flashed this ginormous smile and started dancin' on stools. As the rest of the class followed I realized that they too had positive reactions to the music that was being played. From that point on, I tried to incorporate "Wavin' Flag" into as many activities as I could.

Mateo was your average, aggressive boy. We would play games of "flyswatter" and somehow Mateo's competition would always end up on the ground. He was always the sweatiest kid at the end of the day, and always the one to be the center of attention. There was one class day when Mateo didn't show up. Though I thought it was odd, I knew that there was always a kid or two missing from class. Fifteen minutes into my lesson, Miss (Danielle) Liu bursts into my door and asks about the whereabouts of some of my boys because a handful of hers were missing. Ironically, seconds later Mateo and one other student came gliding into the classroom door, trying their best to sneak in. Covered in sweat, one carrying a basketball in his hand, there was no doubt why they had been late to class. Miss Liu ran to her class to grab her boys that had also joined in on the fun. "Miss Kayla, these boys are very late. What must we make them do so that they will never be late again? I think we should make them all perform 'happy birthday' for the classes." And that they did. Sheepishly and stumbling over the words (we had learned it the day before) the basketball boys performed Happy Birthday for class Summer Dream and class All-Star Monkeys (Miss Liu's class).

Summer Dream proud of their Christmas Tree. Of course Mateo is holding it.

In the curriculum that we were teaching a "secret word" game would sometimes be an option for class.This quickly became one of my favorite activities to teach because I could be as crazy as I wanted and the students would have to reciprocate. The gist is that every student would draw a piece of paper with a 'secret word' on it (there are maybe like, 10 words). They would then have to read the given passage and highlight/underline every time their word is used. I then, as the teacher would read the passage aloud and every time I read one of their secret words they would have to make a sound. Now, I'm not talking like a pipsqueak noise. I'm talking like a full belly gut grunt. Think Tim Allen in Home Improvement, and then double that. Anyways, the kids would have to identify all the words and then make a sentence out of all the secret words. I know, not as cool as the full belly gut grunt. The best part about it was that I, as the teacher, could stop and continue to repeat their word if their grunt wasn't up to par. On either the last or second to last day, we played this secret word game in my class. I don't think I have ever had so much fun in my life. The two paragraph reading passage took us a good half hour to get through because I kept pushing my students for better full belly gut grunts. I have never seen my kids laugh so much either. Right from the beginning their grunts were not what I expected, so i didn't move on until I was pleased. Oh the poor shy quiet ones, I made them come out of their shell that day. I might have been out of control, getting in a few of their faces like a drill sargent (only to the ones who I knew could take it. I'd end up getting two inches from their face and we'd both start cracking up).  Anyways, there was many a time that the grunt wasn't satisfying, or that a person would miss their word (I obtain the answer key so I know these things. Ahhh, the power of teachers). There came a point nearing the end that the kids were really into it, my side was hurting from laughing so hard, and we were just having fun as a class. Matthew and Kristy (who I'll talk about next time) were paired together with the secret word "a". I, knowing that it was coming up, made eye contact with the two of them while reading the given passage. I watched as Matthew, in his oober excitement to please me with his full belly grunt, leaped up before it was time to speak. Only, half of him leaped up. His torso and upper body were so ready, but his legs must not have gotten the mental 'go' because they stayed put. This resulted in an unbalance of weight for his poor tiny stool, which quickly collapsed behind him, Mateos body soon following. Now mind you, I was the only one seeing this because Mateo was in the very back of the classroom. The following crash scared the tar-nation out of the rest of the class.

And this, my friends, poses a moral debate. Someone is potentially injured. Do you laugh? I can tell you this, I certainly did, after I realized that Matthew was laughing too. 

There was one point where we held a "LongDe talent show" for all the students. We as the teachers put together a skit and performed. I guarantee they only understood half of what we were saying, but nonetheless I have never laughed so hard in assembling a skit. Great teamwork, LongDe teachers. The amount of students we got to participate in the LongDe talent show were slim to none. However, Mateo, destined to become a famous singer, got over his stage freight to perform for the school some Chinese pop song. Yea, it was pretty adorable.

LongDe was a small city. LongDe was a street. All the peoples within a 20 mile radius knew where we were living for our time there. Our final day, after our sob fest at the closing ceremony, a fair number of our students showed up at our place to say goodbye one last time and to help us pack our things (they were so sweet). There were two students from my class, one of whom was Mateo. Good 'ole Mateo who broke all cultural barriers to give me a goodbye hug and cry in my arms. I mean, I returned the favor too. The bus driver must have thought we were nuts because the first hour or so of that bus ride, all one could hear was wails and sobs and sniffles. We waved out the window what seemed like time in slow motion. Hearts torn in two for a passion for our students and a desire for a cheeseburger. I'd take the students any day. Mateo provided for me one final memory of LongDe. As the crowd of students and administrators clustered beside the bus, they too waved and shed tears as we began to pull away. In a movie-moment, one broke free and one followed us, chasing after the bus keeping up until we reached the city limits. He ran and waved and smiled and wiped away tears, all while managing to dodge traffic in efforts to keep up with us. Watching this made the tears burn even hotter. That boy was Mateo.

-康妮