Ch-ch-ch-chi(n)a

Another teacher at my school informed my students I was leaving at the end of the semester. So instead of teaching my grade 10 class yesterday, I spent the entire class time fielding questions as to why I am leaving. One of the questions that came out of left field (A place I'm positive all high school and middle school students' minds permanently reside) was, "Do you have a girlfriend who lives downtown?" and of course I said no. And then I decided to tell them that I have a boyfriend.

This is a topic I've avoided with my students one, because my personal life simply does not concern them, and two, because I had no idea the repercussions of such a statement as far as my employment was concerned. Employment now a non-factor, I decided there was no harm in letting them get to know me a little better. Their reaction was what you would expect, laughter, silence, laughter, silence, and then more questions. Once it settled in that I wasn't joking, one of them immediately piped up and said, "Can we see your boyfriend's picture??" 

I later asked them if it bothered any of them at all. In unison they said, "No," and one student, almost dismissively, said, "It's ok, it's normal." Several students eyes darted towards their classmate Damon as they all nodded their heads in agreement. (If you haven't read my previous blog posts, Damon is the queer student in my class) 

Despite what you may think, this post is actually not at all about me, but rather how my students continually surprise me with their level of maturity. It was sweet of them to be so accepting, but it wasn't because of me that they were acting this way. It was all because of their love for Damon. His identifying as queer (Note: he's told me that he is bisexual) hasn't driven any of his friends away as I may have feared at the beginning of the semester, in fact, it seems it has only strengthened his relationship with his classmates. Again, Damon has taught my students things that I think every teacher strives to instill in their pupils: Acceptance. Tolerance. Love. I wish I was responsible even in part for their personal progression, but the most significant personal impact I've had on my students was performing "Part of Your World" for them during our Thanksgiving dinner party. (Note: This obviously had a huge impact on them, but maybe a little less so than the impact Damon has had on them.)

I don't think I would have gotten the same reaction from my Grade 11 class, as no one in that class openly identifies as queer. They mock Damon's more eccentric behaviors behind his back and to his face. I suppose I hope in some small way, learning that I am also queer will change some of their attitudes, or give those who haven't spoken up in defense of an LGBTQ friend the courage to do so in the future. Everyone knows someone who identifies as LGBTQ. Everyone. Those people are often scared of telling their friends because they don't feel safe. I'm glad that Damon has a safe place to be himself. I'm glad anyone else in that class that may also identify as LGBTQ can feel safe expressing themselves however they choose to. I hope their attitudes are infectious and spread to the other grade levels at the school. I hope they grow up to be better people, not just intelligent people. 

I don't make New Years' Resolutions, I find them to be fake and stupid. I'm not gonna lie to myself and say I'm gonna eat less junk food, and go to the gym. I already lie to myself enough about other things, like "Does this double chocolate fudge brownie make me look fat?" "Nooooo!" "Oh, ok!" However, this year I think I'll make an exception. I want to be a better mentor, not just a teacher. I don't want to just instill knowledge in my students, I want to cultivate qualities like acceptance. I don't really know how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to try. It's a cliche, but it is truly amazing how much your students teach you.

My life is a bit hectic at the moment. I am working full-time, meanwhile, planning on quitting the job I'm currently working at in China and looking for new employment here, apartment hunting in downtown Beijing, raising a puppy, trying to have a real adult social life (Aka, going to fancy group dinners that benefit charities, romantic dinner dates, black tie parties, and still managing to make time for booty dancing at gay clubs. You know how it is.), finding out I'm gonna be an Uncle (!!!), trying to keep in contact with all my friends and family back home, and the biggest thing lately, fighting the urge to cry anytime something happens that reminds me of those people. For example: My parents sent me two Christmas packages that arrived today. They arrived in the middle of a rather annoying group meeting with my boss who I am constantly battling the urge to strangle and beat her face into the ground until that stupid coy smile she constantly wears on her face disappears, but that's beside the point. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY FOR ME IN CHINA!! Woooo

^^ Look at the excitement ^^

If you are my friend, you know how much I loathe Christmas. Working in a mall for 6 ish years does that to a person. The constant holiday music playing on repeat, the annoying holiday customers, parents looking for Santa Claus with their snot dripping monsters in tow. I hate it all. Christmas Eve with my family is the only redeeming quality of the whole holiday season...  And presents. Obviously, I'm not a total Grinch. You will find this queen, Christmas morning, screaming while he rips his presents open with the fervor of a five year old who has just discovered chocolate/ a gay who has just discovered poppers.  China has changed something though. What is this feeling? I don't know, but it feels sudden, and... new. I felt it the moment I laid eyes on those presents. My pulse was rushing. My head was reeling. My face was flushing. What was this feeling? Fervent as the flames on a menorah, does it have a name? Yes. Clothing. My parents sent me clothing. I pulled gloves out of my stocking and wept like a small child for 5 minutes straight. Y'all. It's cold here. My hands were ice cubes the other night while I was waiting for a cab outside the gay club. It's hard out here for a bitch. My skinny jeans and v-neck were not protecting me from the cold, harsh reality that is Beijing winter. 

I am currently sitting in my bed, unable to fall asleep because there are two wrapped Christmas presents staring at me, and i'm pretty sure the penguin in my stocking is whispering my name, "Caleb."

How did my parents expect me to resist opening these for 2 more weeks?? Me, the same child who would sneak into their closet and go through their underwear drawers just to see if I could find where they hid the presents they bought me. The child who asked for a "Spy Kit" so that on the next Christmas I could listen to their conversations in the next room to find out what gifts I was going to get. Now I know what you must be thinking. Wait, didn't he start off this post talking about how adult his life is right now? Let me stop you right there. Yes. I am a recovering adolescent. I'd appreciate it if we didn't dwell. It's a very serious condition that I struggle with daily. 

(Cue social outrage at my making light of .. whatever it is I just made light of)

I suppose the point of this post is to just say, hey, I miss everyone, I think about y'all all the time, and if life was perfect I'd be coming down each and every one of your chimneys Christmas Eve. *wink* Unfortunately, I'll be stuck here in China for quite some time. Not really unfortunately at all. I love my life here. I'm excited about finding a new job, moving into a new apartment closer to downtown, closer to my friends, closer to my boyfriend (whom I don't get to see nearly enough). My dog is finally potty trained (Christmas miracle, honestly).

And I'd say I wish things could be different, but in about a month, I'm gonna be on a beach in Thailand and/or Cambodia.

So.

I came out right after turning 21. I had known I liked boys for a very long time before that, but honestly, the words hadn't occurred to me until I was around 18 or 19. I had of course been called 'gay' multiple times throughout my life, a term that at that time made me recoil in fear and shame. I had convinced myself that I was just "struggling with my sexuality." That this was just the test God had given me, and to say I was gay was giving into that sin.

Today, I couldn't be more proud to tell people I am gay. It isn't just who I am, it isn't just who I love, it's more than that. It is me finding inner peace. Learning to love me for who I am instead of living in constant fear of that person. It's my being more self-confident, believing in myself, pushing myself further than I've ever let myself be pushed before. It's leaving everything I know behind and moving to another country. It's knowing that even though I don't know where my life is headed right now that taking it one day at a time doesn't mean I'm wandering aimlessly. I'm just taking a different route to the bull's eye. 

This all might sound somewhat ironic considering a little more than a year ago I attempted to kill myself. People might think that obviously my being gay hasn't been the fantasy I keep making it out to be. But I wouldn't say it's been a fantasy. It's been hard. I had to deal with a family that at first rejected who I am. I have had to continually work through the damage that was done through "Biblical counseling." The 18+ years of church life that left me with a constant fear of burning in Hell. The friends who abandoned me when they found out I was "different." That pain didn't go away magically when I finally admitted to myself I was gay. If anything it came flooding back, beating on the door, screaming at me to let it in so that it could crush me. At times it has been a daily battle to fend off these thoughts. But, it has gotten better. And I think it took me hitting rock bottom, realizing that had the botched pumpkin carving job I tried to do on my wrist been more successful that I would have left so many people behind who weren't ready to see me go, and who I was definitely not ready to leave. My friends and family surrounded me after the incident and reminded me that I am unconditionally loved and accepted. That there is always a reason to keep living. To not sweat the little things. To "just keep swimming." 

It's National Coming Out Week  / Day and I'm happy to say loud and proud that I am gay. I am proud to be part of such a diverse community of amazing people. To anyone still "struggling with your sexuality," just know that you are perfect the way you are, and I know it will take time to believe that yourself, but it's no less true. However, until you are ready to say it a little louder and with pride instead of fear, know that you are loved. 

    First, I should explain how my job works. I am a teacher, yes, but I do not teach at just one school. My job location is different depending on the day of the week. Mon.-Fri. I am either at the private high school that my job is based out of, Jiayu School, or I am at one of 5 middle schools in the area. Saturdays I work all day at a primary school/after school program, teaching kids aging anywhere from 6 to 14.

    In addition to teaching students, I also do group sessions with the teachers of the middle schools where I work. We call these sessions "Teacher Training," as if I, a 6 month new ESL teacher, have anything to teach these seasoned Chinese English teachers. I explain to each group that I am not here to tell them how to do their job, but simply to provide discussion, and a foreigner's take on education. We discuss ways to keep their students' attention throughout class, how to make learning English seem more fun, talk about different games to play in the classroom to reinforce lessons, and provide a chance for the teachers themselves to learn about American culture and to practice their English with a native speaker. These sessions also act as a place to vent about their daily stresses and their considerable lack of love for their jobs.

The other day I asked one of my groups of teachers, "Why did you decide to become teachers? Why this job?"

Blank stares.

I asked again, "Why? This job is hard, exhausting, some of you have already told me you don't enjoy it anymore. So, why did you decide to get into this profession at all?"

Overall the answers were the same: "It was an easy job to get at the time." "My parents thought it was a good job for me." 

and

"When I was younger, I think being a teacher was a very good job to have. But I do not think so anymore." 

Obviously prompting the question, "Why do you think that?" 

And the obvious answer, "It is exhausting, we work so many hours."

Then another teacher chimed in with, "I do not think it is a very rewarding job."

I decided to share with this group of teachers a story from my middle school classes the week prior, and how this job constantly reminds me that I'm in the right profession. 

     I was asking the students random questions about themselves. One of the questions I asked the class was, "What do you hate to do?" Most kids answered like you'd expect, "I hate homework," "I hate doing chores," "I hate getting out of bed!" but one little girl caught me off guard.

"I hate to eat."

     The robotic "Oh haha, that's a good answer!" I was prepared to say got caught in my throat. "You hate to eat?... Why?" I was sure I knew what the answer would be, but this little girl was only 12 years old, surely it wouldn't be that. Before she could think of the right English word and open her mouth, other girls in the class echoed her thoughts aloud, "Fat." 

I quickly scrambled to reply, blurting out, "Why would you ever think you are fat? You are not fat. None of you are fat! You are all beautiful just the way you are and if anyone ever says differently I will punch them in the face," while my fist hit the pretend face in my hand.

Not my most eloquent of responses, but that little girl's face lit up, "Really, you really think that?"

"Yes. I really do"

For homework for that class, and for the other 4 middle schools, students were asked to write down 5 sentences describing themselves and draw a picture to illustrate it. Some of these kids are phenomenal artists.

While others, like myself, "stick" to the basics.

While reading through the homework the next week and looking at the art attached to them, I came across several that made me take pause, but I think they are all pretty well summed up in the picture below, drawn by another 12 year old girl. 

"This is me                                                               This is my friend

I think I'm fatter and shorter than my friends."

The last thing a 12 year old girl should have to think about is her weight. She should be more worried about cooties or idk, anything other than her weight. But don't think these types of responses were just from the girls in the classes. Just as many boys wrote similar sentences. This "thin is in" culture is not exclusive to the West, it is running rampant in Chinese culture as well, and it makes me very sad. I can't have super in depth conversations with my middle schoolers about these topics, I just tell them they are handsome and beautiful. The one little girl who said she didn't like eating replied via her homework, she wrote the following:

"I'm a Chinese girl names Summer. Last time I was not confident. I think I'm fat. But your give me confident. Thank you!"

This is why I'm a teacher. This is what makes it worth it. If all I accomplish in my career is convincing a handful of Chinese kids that they are handsome/beautiful, and that they don't need to look like a super model to live a happy, full life, I think I can live with that.

My advice to my group of teachers: Find the beauty in what you do. Stop focusing on the negative and letting it drag you down constantly. Certainly, there are days I want to throw every single one of the kids out of the classroom window. That's real. It is exhausting. Absolutely. I come home every day ready to embrace my bed immediately, but instead, I have to grade papers/homework/quizzes/tests and prepare for the next day's lessons or meetings. But then there are these moments, and I don't mean when a student remembers a vocabulary word, or when they string together a grammatically correct sentence. I mean when they help another student who is struggling instead of laughing at them, when they support each other emotionally when another student is sad or heartbroken, or when they tell you they've become more confident in themselves because of something you said in class. We aren't just teaching students a school subject, we are helping shape who they will be as adults. There is no greater job in the world than guiding young minds towards being the best version of themselves that they can be. And if that isn't rewarding, then I'm not sure what is.

On an end note: I held a discussion with my Grade 11 high school speaking class, asking them if any of them had been called fat before. One girl raised her hand, her name is Mikan. She can draw your face off (She wants to be a cartoonist), she is super quiet but always has the right answer written down. When you call on her in class she gets super shy and tries to hide behind her book as she answers. Mikan isn't conventionally pretty, but she is very pretty. When she smiles, her whole face lights up, and you can't help but smile back at her. 

I asked Mikan who called her fat. She said her mom. 

Her mother. No doubt who loves her very much. No doubt who didn't mean to hurt her daughter's feelings. Maybe she even thought she was being helpful by pointing it out, maybe she thought Mikan would magically change somehow if she said it. I don't know the reason, but I do know the effects of such words, and they are in no way magical. They are depression. Beating down on you, constantly telling you that you aren't good enough, you aren't skinny enough, you aren't attractive enough. Why anyone, especially a mother, would put their 17 year old daughter through something like that is beyond me.

But it isn't my job to scold Mikan's mother.

It's my job to educate Mikan, and today's lesson was that her mother is, quite simply, wrong. 

  One of my grade 10 male students, his name is Damon (as in the Vampire Diaries), has asked me to take a picture with him at the end of every class so far this semester. Today, he wrote me a note asking if he could continue doing so for every single one of our classes together. The note said that he wanted to bring them with him when he goes to university in America to remind him of how much fun he had learning in high school.

  Later, in the same class, the students were tasked with writing about the most influential person in their lives. Damon asked to read his answer aloud, it's not often high schoolers offer to speak of their own volition, so I said sure. He proceeded to say, "The most influential person in my life is Caleb Cody. I have two reasons to explain why. First, he is so funny. He makes boring classes become interesting and fun. Second, he is so cute. He always wears such nice clothes, and he looks so handsome. That is why he is the most influential person in my life."

  A little about Damon: He is the class clown. He is the least "Chinese" Chinese student in the school. When asked to describe a cat with a word starting with O, he said, "OHMYGOD Cat!" In addition, the class was writing a group story, Damon's sentence was, "At that moment Lady Gaga walked in and said, 'It's a surprise..'" The story was not about Lady Gaga.

  He has an interesting relationship with all of the other students. When asked to write down what student they would want to throw out of the window and why(I try to keep things lively in the classroom), almost everyone picked Damon. Not in a mean way, they were told being mean wouldn't be tolerated. But the main reason was that he makes 'girls feel shy.' He apparently changed his pants in class in front of everyone the day prior. However, the next class I asked everyone to write down who their best friends were. And again, almost everyone picked Damon. The jock in the class, the nerdy kids, the girls, etc. Only a few people picked a different person as their "best friend." He is popular, in spite of, or perhaps more likely, because of his irreverence for what is considered normal for the Chinese students. He forces them to leave what they know behind them. In this way, he is doing a better job of teaching the other kids about life in Western culture than I am.

  I don't think most of the students realize what is seemingly blatant to the Western staff here at the school, but Damon is gay. He often blurts out what he is thinking, whether that be singing "My Heart Will Go On," or saying how cute I am when I do something funny. The other day in one of my coworker's classes he wrote a story using keywords from that class. He read this story aloud, the other kids were confused, but since English isn't their first language they quickly got distracted by other things and moved past it. The story was moving, sad, and telling of feelings he has been having for a long time. I hope he can one day come out to his classmates fully and not lose any of his friends, but I can't say that will happen with much certainty.

  However, China's views on things like homosexuals seems to be changing, especially with college aged people. I have many Chinese friends in universities here in Beijing who have told their friends and roommates and they have been accepted immediately and without question. This is, in part, due to the lack of a religious influence on their culture. Sure, it's still weird for them, but there isn't an all powerful being saying they are inherently evil. They hesitate to tell their parents, because there is a heavy focus on family honor, and, for gay men, carrying on the family name. But there is also a culture of loving your child no matter what as they are, usually, your only one. The amount parents, grandparents, and other relatives care for children here is extremely heartwarming. I think the popularization of English and Western culture is paving the way for gay culture to be more accepted in China (among those in bigger cities at least) because what is Gay culture if not a hyper-version of Western culture (Read: Popular culture. i.e. Fashion, Music, Dance, etc.).

 I find myself constantly worrying about Damon. Every time he speaks out in class about something tellingly gay, I get a twinge of fear that a student won't just write it off this time, and that it will turn into bullying, or worse yet, isolating him from the group. Damon is extremely outgoing, and his biggest fear is 'not being liked.' I hope he never has to experience something as awful as being shunned for who he is. I also hope to try to open the rest of my students' minds to being more accepting of all different lifestyles. I can't discuss homosexuality directly, but I can at least talk about inclusion of different viewpoints and hope it has a positive impact on their future interactions with people different from themselves. 

Damon's story he wrote and told to the rest of the class was this: "I confessed to a boy how I felt. He didn't say 'I love you' back. I saw his yellow shirt as he walked away."

Being a teacher is hard. Being a kid is harder.