Shell in China

Last weekend (okay, I guess it has been two weekends ago now…my lazy blog writing is getting worse as the semester wears on…) was International Women’s Day. As far as I know, this isn’t really recognized in the US, but it s celebrated in China. In the days leading up to it, students asked me what I was going to do (“Nothing,” was my reply) and asked Thad what he was going to do for me (again, a reply of “Nothing.”).

The official holiday was on a Saturday and on Wednesday Rachel and I were invited to a dinner hosted by the college. We were told it was for all the women professors on campus, but before they told us about it, we overheard them discussing in Chinese about whether or not they should invite the foreign women. I think they sometimes forget we have been here for two years and understand enough of the language to have a clue what is going on around us. I guess it was lucky for them they decided to fill us in officially since we now knew it was going on!

Anyway, the point of the story take place at dinner. We all went to hotpot for the evening and took up the entire restaurant. Most departments had their own table(s). Rachel and I sat with the English department women, one of whom brought her niece with her. This teacher lives here in Chengxian, her husband lives in a different city and their baby lives with the husband’s parents. While here though, she has had her niece living with her so that she can attend kindergarten. The little girl came with her and so after eating I started asking the girl about English.

Students begin to learn English very early in China, so I asked the girl, who is five years old, what words she knew. (I asked in Chinese, as she would only know random English words and my Chinese is about the level for a kindergartener! Hehe! We were totally on the same level.) She started listing fruits, “Apple, banana…” and then she got to “puh-ar.” I was lost for a second until I realized she meant “pear.” I giggled and then had the following conversation with her:

“We say ‘pear.’”

“No, it is ‘puh-ar.”

“No, say ‘pear.’”

“My teacher says it is ‘puh-ar.’”

“I’ve spoken English for many years and it is “pear.’”

“My teacher says it is ‘puh-ar’ and she is right!”

“Nope, ‘pear.’”

“I will ask my teacher tomorrow and she will say you are wrong!”

At this point I gave up. I think for most five-year olds, their teacher is the epitome of knowledge. At that age, teachers know better than parents, scholars and even God himself. Don’t question a kindergarten teacher! (Right Candace and Cori?)

I don’t know if she ever asked her teacher or not or what answer she got. I saw her across campus a few more times after that, but then I found out yesterday that she went back to live with different relatives in a different town. I am bummed that I will never know how the conversation with her teacher went! I do know that I had a really hard time keeping a straight face as I had this argument with the little girl and that it provided entertainment for all of the other English department teachers at our table who were following it closely.

I guess my nearly thirty years of English doesn’t count for much against a kindergarten teacher…