tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47003999198732007612024-02-08T14:02:56.856+08:00Michael T. RichterA personal blog for a disturbed software-geek-turned-English-teacher in China.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-36752926465938885572010-07-09T15:17:00.002+08:002010-07-09T18:50:26.922+08:00English as my students see it.It's exam-marking time again and, as usual, I have some real winners. This is how my students see English. Some of these students have studied English intensely for a decade or so....<br /><br />First, the "find the wrong word and correct" type of exercise. For example the incorrect sentence "He open the door and stepped into the light" would be corrected as "He OPENED the door and stepped into the light."<ul><li>She was found guilt BY murder.</li><li>If you are luckily, you MAY get away with a fine of $800.</li><li>He might impose a five-year prison sentenced on the CRIMINOLOGY.</li><li>Many CRIMES are let off with a fine these days.</li></ul><br /><br />Next, some true and false:<ul><li>Salmon is a kind of shellfish. TRUE</li><li>Good study habits require planning; you can't just study when you think you have free time. FALSE<br /><i>(No wonder these kids aren't learning anything!)</i></li><li>The best way to learn vocabulary is by studying vocabulary for two hours once per week instead of studying ten minutes every day. TRUE</li><li>A quick way to expand on vocabulary is to learn the different forms of a word (like "construct" and "construction") at the same time. FALSE</li><li>It is not possible to learn English vocabulary on your own. TRUE<br /><i>(<b>GAH!</b>)</i></li></ul><br /><br />How about some opposites?<ul><li>The opposite of "fatty meat" is "thinny meat".</li><li>The opposite of "cooked onions" is "fresh onions".</li><li>The opposite of "tough meat" is "sturdiness meat".</li><li>The opposite of "fatty meat" is "gaunt meat".</li><li>The opposite of "tasteless food" is "dulcet food".<br /><i>(Someone snuck an electronic dictionary into the exam for the above two I see. Ironically he still only scored 54%...)</i></li></ul><br /><br />And some free-style fill-in-the-blank work. The filled-in answers are in CAPITALs.<ul><li>...English idioms are typically formed of similes and DIFFICULT.</li><li>...English idioms are typically formed of similes and SENTENCES.</li><li>More modern idioms, however, especially in business, are based upon the TRUTH metaphor...<br /><i>(So that's why all the cheating here! Truth is metaphorical!)</i></li></ul><br /><br />Meanwhile, in the listening section, we've got gems like:<ul><li>Name of his FIST: Siti<br /><i>(The missing word was actually "wife"....)</i></li></ul>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-69540056716269173462010-05-19T21:52:00.004+08:002010-05-19T22:22:39.708+08:00When know-it-all ignorance blends with xenophobiaThere's a <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/asiapcf/05/19/china.knife.attack/index.html">story on CNN</a> today about the recent knife attack on children—students—in China. The story itself is pretty typical of modern reportage: mostly factual, but obviously slanted for maximum sensationalism. (Why only "mostly factual"? Well, at one point they say this attack was "slightly different" because the victims were college students. They kind of also forgot to point out that this attack was a gang attack, not an individual one. This, to me, represents a rather large departure from the previously-reported attacks but it doesn't further the sensationalist <i>"OH MY GOD LOOK AT THE PEOPLE ATTACKING <b>CHILDREN</b> IN CHINA!"</i> slant of the story to note that so they move on and hope you don't notice.)<br /><br />That's not what I want to talk about today, though. What I want to talk about is one of the comments underneath the story by one ignorant know-it-all working under the name "oldthis". Just to make sure I avoid any claims of taking him out of context, here's what he says in its entirety:<br /><br /><blockquote>Hope this helps for people not familiar with the region: 1 - Guns are illegal in China. If you are Chinese, unless you served in the military, you've probably never even touched a gun. 2 - there is a reasonable degree of unrest in certain regions of China. Afterall it is a massive area and has very distinct differences from region to region. There are very broad civic problems such as those that all countries must deal with, but there are also regions or pockets where some problems are more prevelant than others. Some of the most significant problems China faces right now, that don't have "easy button" solutions.<br />A - there are 30 Million more men in China than women between the ages of 18 & 35. This is a direct reflection of China's one baby policy that was in place for many years and rual farmers needing a son to carry the family forward as the parents aged. Female babies were often killed. This means that if you are a Chinese male in that group, your odds of finding a mate aren't spectacular, particularly if you live in the country side.<br />B - China has some significant growing pains: Inflation, shifting populations, large pockets of unemployment resulting from the global economic slowdown, govermental corruption (predominately at the state level), polution, a largely uneducated population, a largely rual population contrasted with "extreme megacities".<br /><br />OK - gotta get back to work. The point is, by attacking children these guys are attacking the establishment itself. China doesn't really care about an individual, it cares about the group (its the communist way). The only way for these guys to make a statement is to be bold and utterly horrible in their "statement" to the government. Enter kids at govt paid for schools. That said, this attack seems different. It could be that these are some local guys POed that the college boys are "taking all the women" (refer to "A" above). I am going out on a limb here, but given that it was a dormatory that was attacked and the article says (one student had HIS hand cut off) and knowing that China isn't going to have co-ed dorms...it sounds like an attack on a male dorm. The more I think about it...this is definately not the same thing that has been happening where people are trying to make their frustration known to the govt. This is retribution for something. Has to be. 5-6 men could've created a heck of alot more carniage than this. They did a hit and run on these guys either because one of them had wronged a member of the "5-6 man hit squad" or b/c the "5-6 man hit squad" was growing frustrated with the overall presence of that group of people (college boys) in general. The other school incidents only gave this group of ding-a-lings the idea.</blockquote><br /><br />So ... where do I start in dismantling this pile of bullshit? I'll stay above an obsessive critique of spelling and grammar or of composition skills other than to note that it sadly fails to surprise me that native speakers of English are, again, proving less able to use their own language than many EFL speakers of my acquaintance. Perhaps I'll just go after the major points in order.<br /><br /><blockquote>1 - Guns are illegal in China. If you are Chinese, unless you served in the military, you've probably never even touched a gun.</blockquote><br /><br />This information would come as a shock to those in the Chinese countryside who hunt to supplement their food intake, who have firearms to protect themselves from some of the more dangerous wild animals and who in general, you know, use guns. Firearms are not illegal in China. They are heavily controlled. There is a difference.<br /><br /><blockquote>A - there are 30 Million more men in China than women between the ages of 18 & 35. This is a direct reflection of China's one baby policy that was in place for many years and rual farmers needing a son to carry the family forward as the parents aged. Female babies were often killed. This means that if you are a Chinese male in that group, your odds of finding a mate aren't spectacular, particularly if you live in the country side.</blockquote><br /><br />Would these be the rural farmers for whom the one child policy doesn't apply? These same farmers?<br /><br />The one child policy is a policy for <b>urban</b> Chinese, not rural. Indeed, for urban <i><b>Han</b></i> Chinese, not minorities. Rural Chinese are permitted to have a second child if the first is a female for precisely the reason cited above as the grounds for the purported infanticide. The rules for minorities, urban or rural, vary by minority and region, but again are laxer than the one child policy inflicted on the Han.<br /><br /><blockquote>B - China has some significant growing pains: Inflation, shifting populations, large pockets of unemployment resulting from the global economic slowdown, govermental corruption (predominately at the state level), polution, a largely uneducated population, a largely rual population contrasted with "extreme megacities".</blockquote><br /><br />Anybody who says the corruption in China's government is largely at the state level is ignorant, a liar or a fool. One of the things that has always astonished me in China is the utter omnipresence of corruption. Everybody who can be, in China, is on the take. Those who are not wish they could be.<br /><br /><blockquote>OK - gotta get back to work. The point is, by attacking children these guys are attacking the establishment itself. China doesn't really care about an individual, it cares about the group (its the communist way).</blockquote><br /><br />So the Chinese have been communist for 5000 years? Because, short of that little hissy fit of Mao's (called, for some quaint reason, the Cultural Revolution) there has been basically no change in China's cultural fundamentals. Right down to the purported groupthink. (The reality is far more complex than the stereotype, as is to be expected, but that discussion is far out of scope for today.)<br /><br /><blockquote>The only way for these guys to make a statement is to be bold and utterly horrible in their "statement" to the government. Enter kids at govt paid for schools.</blockquote><br /><br />Government paid-for schools? Which China is he talking about? The China I've lived in for almost a decade has no government-funded schools worth mentioning. Families work themselves to nubs to pay for their children's entry into schools. Schools are government controlled, yes, but certainly not paid for!<br /><br /><blockquote>That said, this attack seems different. It could be that these are some local guys POed that the college boys are "taking all the women" (refer to "A" above). I am going out on a limb here, but given that it was a dormatory that was attacked and the article says (one student had HIS hand cut off) and knowing that China isn't going to have co-ed dorms...it sounds like an attack on a male dorm. The more I think about it...this is definately not the same thing that has been happening where people are trying to make their frustration known to the govt. This is retribution for something. Has to be. 5-6 men could've created a heck of alot more carniage than this. They did a hit and run on these guys either because one of them had wronged a member of the "5-6 man hit squad" or b/c the "5-6 man hit squad" was growing frustrated with the overall presence of that group of people (college boys) in general. The other school incidents only gave this group of ding-a-lings the idea.</blockquote><br /><br />This is the first (and only) piece of insightful commentary this man has made. The first (and only) that is based on a solid observation of fact. The first (and only) that involves speculation that is not, in fact, entirely ungrounded in reality. I'll give him a C- with a little annotation saying "facts are available in published sources; there's no reason to make them up".Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-83165172549609069412010-03-17T19:22:00.004+08:002010-03-17T19:30:53.580+08:00Student contrastsI think I had the perfect contrast between good students and bad students in microcosm today.<br /><br />My students entered my class late this afternoon with ham-acted "I want to die" statements. When I asked for why they were so universally wishing for death, they said they had too much work in their previous class.<div><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-weight:bold;">Them:</span> "We had to write 70 words in 45 minutes."<div><b>Me:</b> <i>boggles</i></div><div><i></i><b>Me:</b> "That's less than two words per minute. Come crying to me when you're told to write 500."</div><div><b>Them:</b> "But English is your native language."</div><div><b>Me:</b> "OK, I'll do it in German, then, if you like. Or even French."</div><div><b>Them:</b> <i>boggle</i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br /></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">They were really not happy when I gave them an exercise (<b>pre-planned! I swear!</b>) in which they had to ad-lib a speech that worked out to roughly 300-450 words....</span></i><div><br /></div><div>Now in this class I have a "guest". He's a student in another program (computer technician) who has decided he needs to improve his English skills so he sits in on my classes when he's got free periods. He also talks with me as I go home after class to help practice. Today, on the way home, he mentioned that he had been finding his classes very difficult this term to the point of wanting to give up. As I was about to encourage him he blithely continued, explaining that this had changed after he went to the library and studied some supplemental material that was easier to understand than what the teacher was giving in class.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that, in a microcosm, is the difference.</div><div><br /></div><div>Poor students only go to class and bitch and moan about doing even miniscule amounts of work. They don't do any work outside of the classroom unless forced to (and then usually cheat anyway, thus invalidating the whole <b>point</b> of self-study).</div><div><br /></div><div>Good students, when faced with adversity, work harder to learn by taking extra classes, spending extra time studying, finding other sources of information, etc.</div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-1176846572708191212010-03-13T16:10:00.002+08:002010-03-13T16:32:24.782+08:00The dangers of cross-cultural plagiarismI'm doing a bit of textbook editing on the side. As is usual here, the material is mostly cribbed from elsewhere with the questions sometimes done by the "writer" and sometimes themselves cribbed from elsewhere.<div><br /></div><div>This can lead to disaster as it would have been in this case had they not asked me to do some editing for them.</div><div><br /></div><div>In one section of the book there's an activity to make a restaurant menu. They have a sample menu at the top of the page as a model. Here's what the model menu says:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><i>WONG WONG's</i></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b><i>CHINESE FOOD MENU</i></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><table align="center"><tr><td><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b><u>LUNCHEON SPECIALS</u></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;font-size:small;"><b>SUM YUNG CHICK $6.99</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Different And Delicious</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>WON HUNG LO $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Chinese Meatballs</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>CHU SUM TWAT $16.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Dinner Parties Of Three Or More</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">SUC MI PORK $9.69</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Chef's Special</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">FUC YU MAN $6.69</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Speciality Of The House</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></div></td><td><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b><u>DINNER COMBINATIONS</u></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>1. GOO IN HAND...$9.69</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">For Those Dining Alone</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>2. GOO WEE CHICK $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Sloppy Seconds No Charge</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>3. CUM TOO SOON $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Order Early These Go Fast</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>4. SUC MI WANG $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Traditional Chinese Meatloaf</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>5. SUM DUM CHICK $4.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">You Get What You Pay For</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>6. LIK MI CLIT $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Delicious Lip Smacking Oriental Delicacy</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>7. CHO KON IT $9.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Not For The Light Throated</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>8. FUC SUM NOW $6.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">For Those In A Hurry</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>9. TUNG SUM CHICK $8.99</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">A Taste Bud Tingler</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>10. SUM GULP CUM $9.69</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Low Cal Diet Special</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"></td></tr></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As funny as it would be to leave that all there, professionalism and ethics kick in. I'm going to have to warn them. :(</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-18876641044648324472010-02-14T19:46:00.003+08:002010-02-14T20:29:52.828+08:00Amazing service.Try and get this kind of service out of Canada Post!<br /><br />On the 13th of February I got a phone call saying that I had a parcel and the truck with it was waiting outside the gate for me to get it (instead of dropping it off inside the campus post office). Let me list the ways in which this was amazing:<br /><ol><li>They phoned me to tell me the package was there. Now to be fair my mobile phone number is on the address label, but I'd bet that if you mailed something in Canada with a mobile phone number you wouldn't get called. Canada Post doesn't offer that service.</li><li>The mail truck waited for me to go get it instead of dropping it off inside the campus.</li><li>February the 13th was a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Saturday</span>.</li><li>February the 13th is also Spring Festival Eve, a holiday that involves, basically, 99.44% of the country shutting down.</li></ol>If you want to know what this feels like in terms of pleasant surprises, consider getting a parcel on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve and Good Friday all rolled into one. On a weekend.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-68873384017273810492010-02-01T18:11:00.002+08:002010-02-01T20:44:14.170+08:00Lost continuityThis is a maudlin story today so if you're not up to reading emotional trash skip this blog and wait for the story about Lucas' haircut which is going to be much more fun to read. Assuming I ever get it into words.<br /><br />The story begins with me carrying Lucas in a toy store today and with Lucas pointing to a prominently displayed toy, crying "House!" (actually he said "Haush" but I'm going to translate his expressions into human speech for purposes of this story) and reaching to play with a familiar old friend. Immediately after this a pang of pain and, to a degree, guilt stabbed through me and tossed me into unfamiliar emotional territory for the rest of the afternoon and even partially into the evening. In short I was a wreck. To understand this reaction you'll have to understand some of the back story. (This, by the way, is called "in media res" and is a classy way of telling stories unless you make the mistake of pointing it out to the audience.)<br /><br />So...<br /><br /><table style="width: auto;" align="left"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3rxt8RfZapzOzbF4ADPVCA?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3h-7zNZvVk0EyAxNCNcIoSuJUpAvfMecfliUs_4CwUytkohSwGFHM5jULG1DJPWIpbZk-KoZnjzFS4aAaHt97Cq677OnaPC-EeV9cHmIpGGsJPdA55J64CjIArqmc-hqDe_9IMjB_fX0/s144/p1010102.jpg" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table>The back story starts with Lucas' house. You can see the house in question in the picture to the left. It's one of those child activity centres you can find all over the place, given to him when he was around 9 months old. (The picture is from his first birthday, but this wasn't his birthday gift.)<br /><br />When we bought him the house it was far too advanced for him. Still I reasoned that as long as it caught his attention (bright colours, interesting shapes and a keyboard that played single tones or whole tunes) it would be something he could grow into.<br /><br />Grow into it he did. It rapidly became his favourite toy and, when a new toy of the moment temporarily displaced it, it remained the centre of his playtime existence. (More often than not we'd find his other toys stuffed inside it for storage. Whether they fit or not. Don't ask.) As he grew older he would find more and more things to do; become more and more capable of coping with the various puzzles the house offered. Other toys came and went, but none had the staying power of his house.<br /><br />All good things must come to an end and the house was no exception. We lost the house to Joan's cousin. The cousin's family had come for a visit when Lucas was 18 months old complete with their son (almost a year older than Lucas). The son loved Lucas' house as much as Lucas did and was playing with it for the whole afternoon. When time came to leave the boy refused to let go of the house and kicked up an enormous fuss. (They're called the "terrible twos" for a reason, after all.) It was decided that we would let the boy take the house with him, complete with the play pieces, and we'd just get it back next time we visited them.<br /><br />(Not decided by me mind, but decided nonetheless.)<br /><br />I had an inkling of trouble when I saw Lucas' worried face as the door closed to the van and the family drove off. He knew the house was in there and he was very unsure what was going on. For a few days after that he'd ask after the house and cry when we told him he couldn't have it. (We didn't word it that way of course, but come on. He was eighteen months old. "It's not here" just means "you can't have it" at that age.) We always intended to go get the house from the cousin's place when we visited in a few weeks, but you know what they say about the Good Intentions Paving Company.<br /><br />Weeks turned into months and we still hadn't gone visiting. Lucas had forgotten about his house, or so we thought. (This, in the trade, is called "foreshadowing" and is also a sign of class as a writer as long as you don't draw attention to it....) When we did finally visit my inkling was proven correct: the house had been viciously played with by the boy and was effectively gone: broken with most independent pieces lost.<br /><br />I'd like to state, just to make it clear, that I don't blame anybody for this. It falls firmly into the camp of "life happens" and at no point was anybody being unreasonable, unfair, selfish or anything of the sort. Joan's cousin's family are some of the nicest people I know and they have done a <span style="font-weight: bold;">lot</span> for us in the way of clothing, toys and general companionship. They even bought a nice toy for Lucas to replace the house (a toy he still occasionally plays with). Nobody could have guessed what happened next. (Well, had I been thinking I could have, but I was too busy lying to myself like everybody does. We call it "rationalization" but it's really just lying to ourselves.)<br /><br />We didn't worry overly much about things. We assumed that Lucas had forgotten all about his house and that other toys had taken over as The Toy. He had toy cars aplenty (and as you can see if you peruse the album linked to by that photo above he's somewhat automobile obsessed!). He had as many toys as we could find that we thought appropriate for him and that we thought he'd enjoy. Obviously he'd forget about that silly house, right? (This is called a rhetorical question, BTW. Another sign of class in writing. This is really turning into a great work of prose, isn't it?)<br /><br />Here's a clue. I'm almost 44 years old as of this writing and I still have vague memories of some of my favourite toys from when I was a very young child, even some from before I went to school.<br /><br />Our illusions were utterly shattered when, almost half a year after the house went missing, Lucas stumbled across a small piece of green plastic. It was one of the animal shapes from his house designed to be pushed in through an appropriately-shaped hole in the top (and which would have the house making the sound of the appropriate animal as it was pushed through). Lucas, upon seeing it, <span style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</span> recognized it and started asking us for his house again and would not take "no" for an answer. He cried loudly with a wrenching, heartbroken sound that echoes in my head to this day when I'm reminded of it. He was inconsolable and cried for hours, refusing every attempt to distract him with his other toys, newer and older alike. For days afterward he asked for his house (despite our quickly throwing out the piece that identified it for him) and would cry for a while when told he couldn't have it. Still, eventually that simmered down and he was back to being his usual happy self.<br /><br />This brings us to today's little moment. The house in question that Lucas pointed to with such fondness was, of course, the same as the one he'd lost. The pang of guilt can be understood now, I think. The pain, however, is harder to explain.<br /><br />What I felt there was sorrow. Sorrow at lost opportunities. Sorrow at broken continuity. The house that Lucas had was tied in deeply with all of his other toys. It was a prime playing piece of its own as well as storage for the other things he loved. Had it never gone missing it would still likely have occupied a central role in his playtime as he figured out more of its puzzles and as he found more uses for it. When Lucas saw the house today I saw the echoes of these opportunities, but only the echoes. He was happy to see his old friend, but it wasn't anything special anymore. It was one of a few hundred (thousand) things in the store he wanted to play with. Even if I had decided then and there to buy it as a replacement for his lost toy it would not have had the central role it used to have. That, more than anything, left me feeling depressed the rest of the day.<br /><br />Just to keep the ending on an up note, I'd like to end by showing you what might well turn out to be the new central toy of his life (purchased just today!). It's amazing how colourful wooden blocks can interest a child, isn't it?<br /><br /><table style="width: auto;" align="center"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/-EFRPJBuhUBSqkbWVWckxw?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkqOqK3U5Xy2uDEzCwjRpRMYSqd_h8Ds0nGlUtTykw7BaDTzkMVCruIczCiSDT6KjSDA94k-WC0M7O42RDwmOSmalgIMfvd0KFY6XaTbVJpt0RAW50mOfltIdiOL_bDA_8zqcnRBt4pc1/s400/p1020447.jpg" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-85333341695368576352010-01-11T18:34:00.011+08:002010-01-11T22:22:10.682+08:00Shooting for zero and accomplishing it!<blockquote>My family owns a large KEEP in the south of England. When I was 18, I studied WATER at college so that I would understand farming better. My brother is in charge of one part of the business and he PICK cows and sheep. Some of these are HARVEST and sold for their meat. he also sells AGRICULTURE such as maize and wheat. We DAIRY vegetables for a few years, but we didn't make enough money at it, so five years ago we GROW a lot of apple and pear trees instead. In the late summer we have extra workers to help FARM the fruit and AGRICULTURE the wheat. Some years are very difficult in farming. Last year, there was no rain for two months, which caused a PLANT. The CROP was very hard and we had to GROUND the maize every week.</blockquote>This is a student's long-winded, fill-in-the-blanks way of saying "I didn't bother with homework at all this term".<blockquote>Since I hurt my leg in the accident, it's been difficult to BITE my knees.</blockquote>I should bloody well think so!<blockquote>Do you think I can OVERDO my homework if it's not very good?</blockquote>I rather suspect that in your case you will not be overdoing homework at any point in the foreseeable future.<blockquote>The alarm didn't EXPLODED this morning – there must be something wrong with it.</blockquote>Talk about a strict morning routine!<blockquote>The police believe the young boy was responsible for HIS PARENTS.</blockquote>The RCMP is teaching cops abroad now?<blockquote>I had to COMB my nose in the middle of the lecture – it was a bit embarrassing</blockquote>I can only imagine.<blockquote>I always sit ON the table for dinner.</blockquote>"...but I can't figure out why people have stopped inviting me."<blockquote>Put this coat on – it'll MAKE you dry if it rains.</blockquote>Does it only dry me when raining or will stepping under a shower do?<blockquote><ul><li>How many MISTAKE do you MAKE at school?</li><li>About twelve including two languages and all the sciences.</li></ul></blockquote>...Words fail me....<blockquote><ul><li>What's the matter?</li><li>I don't know but I MIGHT BE getting headaches. I think I should make an appointment to see the doctor.</li></ul></blockquote>My arm might be broken as well and it is quite possible I've been decapitated.<blockquote>If you don't go to bed when you have a flu IT OFTEN GETS DARK.</blockquote>...and if you get out of bed when you have muscle cramps it often snows?<blockquote>remove writing from the board = PUT it off</blockquote>Yeah, I procrastinate on cleaning up myself.<blockquote>The children were here a minute ago, but now they've RECHARGED.</blockquote>Never ever recharge your children. It takes forever for them to run out of energy.<blockquote>A fall in sales could lead to A PAY RISE FOR ALL THE WORKERS.</blockquote>I wish my employers were so enlightened in these harsh economic times.<blockquote>If you start to recover from an illness YOU PROBABLY DON'T GET BETTER AT IT.</blockquote>And I was trying so hard to perfect my flu too!<br /><br />Lest you think I'm being unusually cruel even for me, keep in mind these two points:<ul><li>These are university students planning to study abroad.</li><li>This is all lifted <strong>directly</strong> from the homework they were supposed to have been doing all term.</li></ul><br /><br />Oh, and every entry up there is from a different student.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-72851758855288509472010-01-11T16:22:00.002+08:002010-01-11T16:33:41.612+08:00Exam time crueltySo, my first exam of the term is behind me: English Vocabulary. The students were concerned about this one for the past month or so, constantly asking me if it was going to be difficult. I was always on-message when I told them "if you've been doing your assigned homework this will be an easy exam".<br /><br />This is <span style="font-style: italic;">literally</span> the case.<br /><br />The course texts for this class are a pair of books called <span style="font-style: italic;">English Vocabulary in Use</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Test Your English Vocabulary in Use</span>. I assigned homework in the form of the mini-tests in the latter every week to be done for the next class. Each class I would spot-check the homework by taking one of the mini-tests and grading it. Each mini-test is worth 30 points (in question sets that varied from 1 point to 15 points each). I was getting an astonishing number of people passing in mini-tests with scores of 29 and 30. Well, astonishing unless you noted that the back of the book had answers to all the questions.<br /><br />The silly students thought I wouldn't notice. (Hint: if you're copying the <span style="font-style: italic;">errors</span> from the textbook's answer page, I'm going to notice!)<br /><br />So, back to the exam. For the exam I made up eight pages worth 20 points each. Each page had exercises <span style="font-weight: bold;">taken directly from the book they had been assigned as homework</span>. I did eight pages but each student only had 3. This was done as an anti-cheating mechanism: no student was going to be sitting next to someone with the same mix of exam questions and at first glance it's going to look like I actually did what I had threatened: made 31 different exams. (Cheating is an epidemic in Chinese academic environments, you see.) But the key is something I have to stress again: each question was <span style="font-weight: bold;">taken directly from the book they had been assigned as homework</span>. So quite literally this exam would have been a cakewalk for the students who did their homework.<br /><br />I haven't graded the exams formally yet, but I have glanced over them rapidly as a sampler. There's going to be a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of garments over this one.<br /><br />Maybe writing the following on the board in bright, cheery red letters before the exam was going overboard:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">EXAMS ARE FUN!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">(for the teachers...)</span></span><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-19039402755273267702010-01-11T11:23:00.003+08:002010-01-11T11:28:03.331+08:00Amusing small minds.So, being the only person in the adult portion of the family with a sense of fun, it is always left up to me to find ways to <s>warp the mind of</s> amuse the kid. Here's one of the simpler things I do.<br /><br />This game is played in the bathroom (or anywhere where there is a sizable mirror). When the kid is looking in the mirror, make a face. (I personally suck in my cheeks until my lips protrude like fish lips.) Wait for the kid to spot you in the mirror. Almost invariably the kid will look to the real you to see what's going on. The trick is to make sure that you erase that face before his eyes focus on you. Now he's faced with a mystery: the you in the mirror has a distorted image. The real you looks perfectly normal.<br /><br />I can keep Lucas entertained for quite a while when I do this. He hasn't managed to catch me in the act yet.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-72450722598726560142010-01-10T10:40:00.002+08:002010-01-10T10:53:41.936+08:00How to spoil a birthday in one easy step...Get struck down by fever.<br /><br />So yesterday was Lucas' second birthday, but I got some nasty virus or other and spent most of the day and well into the night wandering in and out of semi-consciousness. I basically missed his second birthday. This means everything here is second-hand information.<br /><br />First, I have to apologize to my mother. There are no pictures because Joan forgot to take the camera when she went out with Lucas and her mother. You'll have to do the same as me and just imagine.<br /><br />The first thing the intrepid trio did was go shopping for some foodstuffs. In the process they got a small cake and ate it with Lucas. After shopping they went to a small park in the middle of Wuchang called Hong Shan park (literally "flood mountain park"), meeting up with Joan's cousin with whom we have a very close relationship. There he ran around and looked at everything and generally had a good time. There was some kind of "drumming for kids" display there that Lucas partook of, apparently striking his drum with great zeal (but no sense of rhythm if I know my boy). Indeed he thought it was so much fun he stole the drumstick. (Nobody noticed this last point until they were a looooooooong distance away from the park, so now he has a drumstick.)<br /><br />After the park it was time for the restaurant and eating. This went as usual but for one small thing: Joan's retainers accidentally got left on the table, wrapped in tissues. She didn't know this until everybody made it home, however. She called the restaurant and asked if they'd seen them but nobody had. She had to make the long trip back to the restaurant and then root around in the (dry) garbage until, just shortly before she was about to give up, she found them. Some extreme cleaning measures later she has a pair of retainers again.<br /><br />I'd like to post more, but I'm still a bit dizzy so this is it for today.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-14174197781291043012010-01-02T09:36:00.005+08:002010-01-02T10:31:12.311+08:00Shopping with the master of disaster.So, we were shut in most of the day yesterday between the annoying drizzle of rain and the low (for here) temperatures. Lucas, my sweet little idiot, was all ramped up on energy because the apartment really isn't big enough for him to safely release any. (When he starts things break. Or get annoyed. Or both. It all really depends on the sentience levels in question.)<br /><br />Finally, after dinner, and after a few hours without rain, I'd had enough. After having browbeaten Joan for long enough we finally left the apartment as a family to take a longish walk.<br /><br />Lucas has a new game, incidentally, that causes heart stoppage in the adults in his life. It follows these steps:<ol><li>Run full-tilt down the sidewalk.</li><li>Suddenly collapse to his knees.</li><li>Follow that up with collapsing to the ground in a sprawl.</li></ol>He loves it and plays it endlessly while we look on in shock (the first few times) and annoyance (Joan and her mother) or laughter (me).<br /><br />This is where shopping enters the picture. While we were out, we walked past a small supermarket. I'd been there lots before but Joan and her mother had never stopped in. Since we needed some vegetables, Joan's mother decided to go check it out. (It turns out that some things are available there cheaper than the usual haunt.) I took Lucas inside partially for warmth and partially for the sheer fun of it.<br /><br />Lucas, in his inimitable fashion, and after the initial wariness of someplace new, took to the place like carassius auratus auratus takes to oxidane<a name="Note1Return" href="#Note1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>. He ran up and down the (very narrow) aisles happily looking at all the strange stuff while his father desperately tried to keep up without knocking anything off the shelves.<br /><br />Now, I've seen badly behaved children in departement stores before, especially in Canada where parents seem to think that it's perfectly OK for their children to pull things off of shelves, open packages, etc. In China this is more rare. Even by local standards, however, Lucas was a marvel. For example quite by accident we stumbled over the toy aisle. This was like kiddie crack for Lucas: dozens of interesting things that he wanted and wanted now. Here's the difference, though, between Lucas and tens of thousands of other children I've personally witnessed. He'd follow these steps:<ol><li>Point excitedly at an item and say "要!" (want!).</li><li>Look expectantly at me with a grave face.</li><li>Listen to me gently say "no".</li><li>Move to the next item.</li><li>Lather. Rinse. Repeat.</li></ol>Note the absence of any of the following:<ul><li>Tantrums.</li><li>Whining.</li><li>Clinging.</li><li>Grabbing. (Well, he did grab one thing, but this was after looking at me and me nodding because I was considering actually buying one; I decided against on quality grounds.)<br /></li></ul>Other dumb things he did included playing shy with the store clerks (who subtly flocked in his general vicinity like flies to sugar) in just the right way to charm them and, get this, quietly going past the bulk candy (which he recognized excitedly) after being told, once again, "no".<br /><br />I actually enjoyed going shopping with a <span style="font-weight: bold;">toddler</span>. Man, I must have done something <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> nice in my past life to warrant this kind of son!<br /><br /><a name="Note1" href="#Note1Return"><sup>[1]</sup></a>Goldfish takes to water.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-75545387579596329012010-01-01T17:09:00.002+08:002010-01-01T17:14:34.593+08:00A glimpse of the future.Living in China has its disadvantages. It is, after all, a brutal communist dictatorship so it's like living in Exxon or Microsoft or the like: a corporate state. (Anybody who disagrees with this parallel has either never worked in a medium- to large-sized company or has never lived in a communist state.) It is heavily polluted. It is alien beyond all belief at times.<br /><br />One advantage that I have, however, living here in China, is that I know the future before you do. While I'm writing this, for example, most of the people who read my blog are still living in the year 2009. I've been living in the year 2010 for almost a whole day now. Magnanimous guy that I am, however, I will give you a glimpse of what the future will bring you.<br /><br />The future is pretty much the same as the past.<br /><br />There you go.<br /><br />And 新年快乐 (Happy New Year) to you all!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-79253624880282141762009-12-27T19:44:00.007+08:002009-12-27T21:09:30.630+08:00The old grey mare...So, for <a href="http://halfbaked.doesntexist.org/70th.pdf">no particular reason</a> I've decided to take up my keyboard and post on my dusty blog. Because of this <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/septuagenarian">complete lack of any kind of reason</a> I'm also focusing this blog entry on things my mother would be most interested in.<br /><br /><hr /><br />Chief among these right now is, of course, her grandson, Lucas (or, as I like to call him, the Grand Overlord of All He Surveys at Least in His Own Mind – GOAHSLHOM for short). We're closing in on his second birthday and he is in full-tilt "Terrible Twos" mode. Now to be fair he's better-behaved than other two year olds I've encountered. He is, however, incredibly active and hard to manage for a variety of reasons:<br /><ul><li>he is hypercurious about everything (the more dangerous or annoying the better);</li><li>he is much larger than other children his age;</li><li>he is commensurately strong.</li></ul>When he wants something it takes the concerted effort of Joan and her mother together to rein him in (or just me since I'm still the giant in the family).<br /><br />He is, in a word, annoying.<br /><br />The annoyance is mitigated, however by the sheer joy of watching him develop (and, in my case, the sheer joy of warping his mind for my own amusement). The initial health scare is gone. Lucas is a big, healthy, active, normal child in every sense. He's developing manual skills (some of them annoying – my desk drawers are no longer sacrosanct). He's developing very good listening comprehension skills in both English and Chinese. (We often underestimate how much he understands now!) His spoken skills are pretty good; he can communicate most things quite clearly now (and <span style="font-weight: bold;">boy</span> does he like to communicate them constantly!). He can recognize about 75% of the alphabet without error and about half of the remainder with about 50% accuracy. (He still confuses "N", "M" and "W" mind.) He's memorized a couple of Tang Dynasty poems (remember those <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tang_Dynasty#Establishment">from your childhood</a>, Mom?) and is even at the point of beginning to recognize some Chinese characters in context (but not independently yet).<br /><br />Some of the interesting character traits he's developing:<br /><ul><li>he's absolutely obsessed with cars and has been from an amazingly young age;</li><li>he loves Dora the Explorer (the TV show and the books);</li><li>he's recently developed a love of the ridiculous rhymes of Dr. Seuss (<span style="font-style: italic;">There's a Wocket in my Pocket!</span> being his current favourite book edging out by a hair the illustrated version of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Itsy Bitsy Spider</span>);</li><li>he likes to play hide and seek and is both remorseless and tireless while playing it;</li><li>when he's tired he doesn't get whiny and cry, he gets crazy and runs around like a manic idiot;</li><li>he's an extremely picky eater (obviously acquired from Joan, not me!);</li><li>he likes music and will dance to it all the time, sometimes even managing to look cute instead of spastic;</li><li>his first favourite song was, of all things, "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Man_%28song%29">Iron Man</a>" which has given me one of my favourite images of all times: an elderly Chinese lady humming "Iron Man" to a young baby to soothe him;</li><li>a current favourite song is the theme song to the old television show <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Night_Court"><span style="font-style: italic;">Night Court</span></a> although I recently introduced him (by accident) to "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squeeze_Box_%28song%29">Squeeze Box</a>" which he also enjoys.<br /></li></ul>I do have a lot of new pictures of him and will post them as soon as possible, but some technical problems are interfering with this at the moment. When those are cleared, I'll make a new blog entry that consists almost entirely of Lucas photos.<br /><br /><hr /><br />The next person that Mom's going to be interested about is, of course, Joan. Joan is doing well, but this term bit off (quite a) bit more than she could chew work-wise and is worn to a frazzle. I, of course, told her this was a mistake long before she started into teaching 30 periods per week—over and above the whole parenting thing, mind—but <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassandra">nobody ever listens to me until it's too late</a>. Still, this term is ending soon and next term she won't be making this same mistake. He won't come out and admit that I was right, but we both know that I was.<br /><br />Joan is still the chief driving force behind us wanting to buy an apartment in Wuhan. This is proving more difficult than we had anticipated because the Chinese mortgage industry, like most large-scale operations in China, is run by untrained chimpanzees with bladder control problems. (They don't know what they're doing, are unsuited to their positions and like to piss on everything around them.) The size of the down payment we need to make is just too large to be realistic so I'm going to have to go hunting for a better-paid job or start a successful business or something. (Alternatively I could win the lottery or something. It's hard to do when you don't buy tickets, however.) We're still working at it though, even through the added expense of a personified force of destruction (a.k.a. 王森锐 or Lucas) in the household. Indeed it is for Lucas (giving him a stable home in his childhood) that we're going through this. It'd just be nice to get it done earlier.<br /><br />Other things Joan-related: she's on her way to getting her Master's degree in teaching, get this, Chinese as a Foreign Language. This is our entry plan for Canada. Given the giant China has become on the world stage there's a lot of places itching to have their staff trained in Chinese. Further a lot of overseas Chinese are interested in having their children learn their "mother" tongue. This is beside the obvious possibility of government interest in native Chinese speakers. There's lots of opportunity for the future in this and Joan's working hard at it.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(Anybody want to learn Chinese from Joan so she can get some praxis?)</span><br /><br /><hr /><br />This leads to me, the last person my mother is interested in hearing about in our little family over here in China. My family life is going fine, although two sudden adjustments (bachelor-to-husband, husband-to-father) in rapid succession after 40 years of solitude was a bit of a shock (to put it mildly). As you may have gathered from the above, I'm insanely fond (and proud!) of my son despite the annoyances and worse of parenthood. (Oh, Mom? I apologize unreservedly.) Pretty much anything I do these days is for him, short- or long-term.<br /><br />My work life is far improved at my new school, the <span style="font-style: italic;">Hubei Communication Technical College</span>. This is not what one would call a high-rung college (more third-string) and as such they lack the arrogance of my previous school which (fraudulently) banks in on the good name of one of the more respected universities in China (<span style="font-style: italic;">Wuhan University</span>). They, as a result, pay me (slightly) better, give me a much nicer (albeit about 10% smaller) apartment and pay all my bills except long distance telephone. That's not the best part, however. The best part is that I'm not just a 白猴子 ("white monkey") to them. I'm a teacher. I'm treated as a teacher and an asset. My opinion is sought out on matters that affect me (and sometimes even on matters that don't affect me). I'm invited to planning meetings. I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">actually <span style="font-weight: bold;">encouraged</span> to interact with the Chinese staff</span>! (Three dinners so far and still counting, and this after I had to demure from two because of scheduling conflicts.)<br /><br />The down side, of course, is my students. Just like the East Lake Campus students of my last school, these students are the dregs of China's educational system. They're entirely unsuited to being in university-level (or even college-level!) education. Unlike my former East Lake students, however, I actually feel for these kids. They're not arrogant, spoiled rich brats on the whole. (There's one exception out of about 100 students.) They're decent human beings who are being forced into something they have no interest in nor aptitude for. (The same is true of my former East Lake students, but I loathed them as human beings so didn't care about their suffering.)<br /><br />On the other hand, my main campus students at my old school were decent people and, in many cases, people I actively thought had a real future (with several of them proving my predictions correct now!). I have no such students here. Still I'm overall much happier with my work here than I was at the old place so the move was a net plus.<br /><br />My mother was kind enough to send me a big batch of books for my technical use (she's already sent Lucas about 20...). Because of her I'm now learning how to use ANTLR, Groovy, Scala, Erlang and Haskell (with Clojure on the way in another package) so that I can get my technical skills back up to snuff and ready for a move to high tech. Further, I have prospects, high tech-wise, here in China. One of my former students has talked to his manager about me and that manager is interested. Should things go well, I may be out of teaching next year this time and back into software, this time working for a Chinese company with ... well, I won't give away what it is that they were interested in me for so that I don't jinx the process of being hired. If this happens, though, it will be big. Very big.<br /><br /><hr /><br />That's it for this blog for now. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things again (I have a strategy I like to call "mini-blogging" that may help) and not have a three-month gap again. And Mom, for <a href="http://halfbaked.doesntexist.org/70th.pdf">no particular reason</a> I promise that the pictures of Lucas will be up in a blog posting just for you before the week is out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-55620066382783691992009-09-21T10:47:00.007+08:002009-09-21T11:34:19.560+08:00Was that ever a long week...!OK, so I said a week and it's almost a month. Sue me. I dare you.<br /><br />That being said, I do apologize to my blog's biggest (only?) fan for the delay. Life just gets very, very busy and crazy at the beginning of term in a new school and I'd forgotten that aspect of things. Distractions piled on distractions piled on Lucas ... I mean distractions ... and before I knew it, a month had passed. Then I promised to have this thing up by Sunday and a network problem prevented it. (I couldn't access Blogger nor Picasaweb.) So here I am, late Monday morning, filling the blog with my usual drivel.<br /><br />This is going to be a picture-intensive blog entry, and there's more pictures than are showing up here to be found at <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ttmrichter/Lucas?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ#">Lucas' very own Picasaweb album</a>. Pop on over for more details.<br /><br />Lucas is growing up very quickly now, and I mean this in all respects. He's smarter. (Too damned smart, sometimes, if in a stupid sort of way!) He's taller. He's more active. He's everything that drives Joan mad.<br /><br />Joan, you see, has one flaw among her many virtues: she really does not adapt well to change. Lucas is in that stage of his life ("Terrible Twos" are coming!) when change is the only constant. Just as Joan gets used to one set of behaviour patterns from him (nap times, for example, or meal times) he goes and changes things and this drives her (and her mother) nuts. Me, I've had nothing but change for all my life except for an 8.5 year period of illusionary stability (Edmonton). I've learned to adapt to change a thousand times over since then. Joan ... not so much.<br /><br />I guess some statistics are in order. We have a height chart on the wall and officially measured him on August 17. 87cm. At a little over one year and seven months old, Lucas was as tall as many 3-year olds in China. And he's still sprouting. A few days ago—around the 17th, oddly enough—I did a quick eyeball check (didn't have a book handy so no official measurement) and he'd jumped to 88.5 already, maybe even 89. Oddly enough his weight is not increasing as quickly. He's shooting up, but he's losing fat in the process. This kid is going to be slim and wiry when he grows up. (At the rate he's wearing out his mother's and grandmother's last nerve, <span style="font-weight:bold;">if</span> he grows up!)<br /><br />His personality is also developing at a rapid pace. I don't know what Joan and I did in our past lives to deserve this, but Joan (an introvert) and I (an even stronger introvert) have been saddled with a boy who's the precise opposite: an extrovert of the highest order. He <span style="font-weight:bold;">loves</span> having people around. He <span style="font-weight:bold;">loves</span> interacting with people. He <span style="font-weight:bold;">can't stand</span> periods of quiet and rest. This, too, causes him to wear out nerves quickly. Of course he's so damned cute when being aggravating that he likely will survive to adulthood.<br /><br />There are a couple of interesting personality traits developing. He's got my stubbornness for sure. Once he sets his mind on something he doesn't let it go until ... well, as with any near-two-year old he's got the attention span of a gnat combined with, say, another gnat. But while we're in that attention span phase, he's dogged. Whatever he wants <span style="font-weight:bold;">he wants</span> and he simple will <span style="font-weight:bold;">not</span> be distracted from it. Until the attention span thing, I mean.<br /><br />He's developed an obsession with cars already. He loves them. He points to toy cars, photos of cars, cars in movies, cars on the street and starts reciting what kind they are. He's even right most of the time. His favourite toys are cars (or Lego-like bricks which I make into cars or car accessories). He'll always drag out his picture book and flip it to the cars page to recite the names. Out in the street he'll constantly look out for cars and let out a joyful "che che!" ("car-car!") when he sees one, then announce what kind it is. (He even distinguishes between "car" and "taxi".) It's getting to the stage that we want to rename him to "Lucas Cars" or something like that because he just won't shut up about them!<br /><br />The other thing that's developed is his penchant for motion. This kid is never not moving. Look at the pictures I put up of him. Even on the best there's tell-tale motion blur. Keep in mind that I put up one photo for about every ten I take. The rest? The rejects? Pure blurs. He doesn't sit still long enough to photograph well. (It doesn't help that he's fascinated by the camera so when he's aware of it he'll lunge straight for it. This is why there's so many photos of him pointing at the camera and grinning.)<br /><br />I'd like to close off this blog entry with a gallery of photos with attached commentary.<br /><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/47dJ7NspBA14E-6fgLnhJw?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUIONXUDyCmh10XqApQtaSrEu_frYYeyl6byRqj7sbBEEkqcrCES_5p0u21P6O5QvuRYL0h29fV0MxeYsw3s7j6Ox1yk8HhgcMZe63rWLY0CGCcFYmySiN3lWUCJpZeNqVJTAISMahhvs/s144/p1010918.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>You better not be trying to steal <span style="font-weight:bold;">my</span> bun, Mister!</td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/a-vyEf8eCjn4Sj3aVSFCug?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcL47s3xuWXU1aYIAwZRlG_tvwYuTEPT_shqNWJtWWJqqRTg3gdjxTJD2fqGkbJvF69FWg-fp9xxvQ3X6LyMPl_9G4LpP-OLTXiY0gER2xxXDzK26xYr-o2SFJzWO6NxiMPT5A3OCaBZ_p/s144/p1010925.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>This is that blurring thing I was talking about earlier.</td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/FlZoDGBkqgFMR-rSVZ6sow?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_sZA9RsOKncYIcQftHlH0gqRKvtx64XzSKWzDavJyb63JOdywDdNpIGp40CFgSC8xHR7MR1ZGhqZ-EGAZsccNtlEcp6x2HczKvToRtkhK8Vtyxg-GItcdqi0wxBLtak5_ew-lzG3NKfA/s144/p1010938.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>Maybe if I close my eyes and wish really hard, I can get another car!</td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/b0RNRNoEGgrciFBANExZxQ?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZHa7xe7SWd3Sp5TmWBfeACCnra61IxzQI3cm6BMbnPSnGC0x89r5QXG1bixJqocAbcCp1CPU-KQXLpPma9PX8JYS3HQCFdFzASX8JVjBlUFCFRCUA7sXCUd5hgB9-bhEq8EwAppTC7sv/s144/p1010945.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>A rare moment of stillness. He can't see the camera either.</td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/BtDf_IM1KqEQ3pptTPCGTQ?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNJkPmxlBXgPyc3xHZAupuFLPoOmJttbYpOJgf7VBzckHcyvBT2ND6y8pS9u6juAIN725V1spQ2t9WnKmu4G640pjIm1IyOiCbSxomfjXhNa0teqjc-lQktLXNEWXAJdTBYCeWQzrWSTz/s144/p1010952.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>One of his favourite toys, accessory courtesy of yours truly.</td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/X-0GZPK_zLEijEPlxCVmsw?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKaJTu9TzwDYkxLIIRNRO6R6n4HpDdNLmSpH5SOyOxeRPoxVRlEftWWfOWXEFzIMvXk3UzNmvDjEZ_vUZfyZRIU5oQA-Ey5TCVAYiAWXxF9SwJ3ZTaZaLe8S9rsW4O7ps2f-KSFDepXUZ/s144/p1010956.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>The three toys in sharp focus, Lucas in the back being fed.</td></tr><tr><td></tr></table></td><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/s_gkNIj-Krfiie5s0WzPLw?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOK5jZmWP_OJXlJf8o9YmS7mGhvKhyhru-aZY5Ot52RMfhxu31r0Pe-B15dp7sykrjy0CREKCLhfBOrAIDN7QH5ZfMVV_zWwR32a7fU3swegAKZhwtVgDV50uvEKmz7igsOrnpK3a9AYb/s144/p1010962.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td>Same scene, different focus.</td></tr></table></td></tr>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-75720695679099299372009-08-24T20:51:00.004+08:002009-08-24T21:33:59.803+08:00Beware the JoaninatorYeah, I said I'd do this yesterday, Mom, but life happened and as it is I can't even do the mega-update I was planning. Here's a brief summary of my current status for those just sitting on the edge of their seats. I'll be posting details on each of these later as I get time alone.<br /><ul><li>The move was a success, although I threw my back in the process and was in agony for a couple of weeks afterwards. (I need some medication now. I'm fresh out.)</li><li>The new apartment, although smaller, is far more intelligently laid out and outfitted so it's actually much more comfortable than the older, larger place. And it has a seated toilet. I can read again finally!</li><li>Lucas adapted almost instantly to the new environment and is entering his "terrible twos". Wilful but cute, so that makes up for it.</li><li>I've been doing a little bit of daily teaching every day for a bit of spending money.</li><li>We're actively looking for our own apartment now.</li></ul>Each of those items will get expanded upon within the next week (knock on Lucas' head).<br /><br /><hr /><br />Now to explain the title.<br /><br />There was one little incident in the move that was a bit negative. (I mean aside from shoving a shard of glass from a broken ink bottle deep into my thumb while unpacking.) The incident was unpleasant, but I emerged from it with a newfound respect for the toughness of my wife.<br /><br />The complex we lived in was a "secure" complex with on-site, live-in security and all that jazz. All of this is run by the building manager, Mr. Peng. Mr. Peng is an irritating tick of a man; the kind of guy that shakes your hand and leaves you feeling mysteriously oily. Having him in charge of security is kind of like having the RCMP investigate its own officers' misconduct: futile and a recipe for disaster.<br /><br />One thing, for example, that Mr. Peng does is he rents out empty apartments in the complex off the books to his friends. He also treats the security guards like dirt and is suspected of entering tenant apartments when they are not present (he's never been directly caught at this but there's lots of circumstantial evidence).<br /><br />After moving, Joan and I went back to the apartment to clean it. We decided that the school treated us decently so we're going to be decent and clean up the place for them. This was a huge job that was shaping up to be a multi-day thing. (Marion, your "Magic Erasers" were utterly defeated by the kitchen. I was shocked.) During our time there, Joan had her scooter plugged in to charge up. When she left to pick up lunch, she didn't want to carry the charger all the way up to the fifth floor only to carry it all the way back down again when she got back. Instead she put it in the (secured) stairwell under the stairs.<br /><br />When she came back it was gone.<br /><br />She knew right away that Mr. Peng had taken it. Why? Because he'd tried it earlier and was caught in the act. At the time he pretended he was looking for the owner of the charger, but in reality he was walking <span style="font-weight: bold;">away</span> from the place he found it and doing so rather furtively. So when it went missing for real, he was the first (and only) suspect.<br /><br />Joan worked herself up into a real fury over this. (Mental note: never steal anything from Joan. Ever. For any reason.) She was angrier than I've ever seen her before. And in the process we cooked up a scheme to get the thing back.<br /><br />Joan wrote a note saying, basically, "my husband saw who took it; we won't say anything if it's returned to us within an hour". She posted this note on the building manager's door. This led to Mr. Peng's first error. He came to confront us about the "outrageous accusation". He challenged me to my face to say that I'd seen him do it. I hadn't, but he didn't know this. There are lots of places he could have been seen from and he knew it. Without any friendly gesture and without anything he could hang any hopes upon I nodded certainly. Yes, I'd seen him walk away with it.<br /><br />This was the gamble. Had he stuck to his guns he'd have left room for doubt and it would have been a "he said; she said" scenario with no resolution. He was, however, shaken by the absolute positive he'd got from me there. Suddenly he wasn't so sure he'd gotten away with it.<br /><br />First he tried the "I'll help you find out who took it" route. This was mistake #1. He went out and acted all concerned, asking any of the tenants outdoors if they'd seen anybody who didn't belong entering or exiting the complex. A woman who'd been outside with her son for a long time and who'd been near where anybody entering or leaving would have to have passed said "no, no strangers entered or left". This eliminated an outsider. The rest of the tenants in the building were not on the list because a) they were mostly gone and b) we're talking about people who are making a MINIMUM of a hundred grand a year.<br /><br />Next, shaken by me saying I saw him walking away with the thing in his hands, he went to his apartment to show me the thing I must have seen: a plastic bowl of sorta-kinda the same colour. This was mistake #2. In doing this he placed himself at the scene of the crime at the time it happened. When he showed us the bowl, I just flatly laughed at him, explaining that I can tell the difference between a small, rectangular light cyan object and a large, round dark cyan object at only 5 stories. (Hell, I could probably spot the difference a block away!)<br /><br />Now is when the Joaninator sprang into action. She gave the man a tongue-lashing I've never seen her give anybody before. (Hopefully I never see it again.) In the process Mrs. Peng joined the conversation and it turned into a three-way shouting match. A shouting match Joan won.<br /><br />In the end she won the cruelest (and most appropriate) way I can even imagine. She threatened, in short, to expose Mr. Peng's sideline rental service. You know, not only threaten his livelihood, but to basically say "give this thing back or you're going to jail for something else I know about you".<br /><br />For face reasons, of course, Mr. Peng couldn't admit he stole the thing. Instead he offered to pay for the missing charger "because we're such good friends". Joan phoned the dealer, got the price on the recharger and took the money. Then we left. And we didn't bother doing the deep cleaning we planned on because, frankly, we lost interest in being nice to the people running the building. Let them hire a cleaner now.<br /><br />A little coda that was entertaining. The recharger cost 100RMB. When Joan went to get it, she told the story to the shop attendant who laughed and said it's too bad this wasn't known beforehand. The recharger, you see, was on special for 100RMB. Usually it was 150RMB and the shop staff all agreed that a thief should have been forced to pay the higher price.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-63452539789685175972009-07-29T11:01:00.002+08:002009-07-29T12:23:55.279+08:00A small story to tide the gap.I know, I know. More than a month. Trust me, I've been really busy and now am in the middle of moving. I'll have a post with lots of cute pictures of Lucas and stuff, but for now I'll just relate an early story of my stay in China.<br /><br />Now I have to explain about my first school. It was a crappy little community college-like affair whose leadership had Grand Ambitions. (I have to capitalize it to get the scope of it across.) To accomplish its aims it had to do a lot of renovation and upgrading. One of the most visible upgrades was an actually-quite-impressive sports field.<br /><br />It was a very modern sports field, all things considered, replacing a dusty clay track with a modern spongey-rubbery sort of deal, for example. The bleachers were being completely replaced (albeit with the ubiquitous concrete-covering-bricks construction that plagues most of China's buildings). While this was going on, there was landscaping being done all across the campus as well.<br /><br />It is the landscaping to which I will be turning my attention because, one day, while teaching classes, I happened to look outside my classroom window. What I saw left me baffled. Two workmen were working fastidiously in the blazing afternoon sun alongside the sports field fence.<br /><br />One man, apparently the foreman, was digging what looked like over-sized post holes. He'd dig one of these holes, proceed 3m down the fence, dig another hole, proceed 3m and so on. The second man was two holes (6m) behind him, very carefully and thoroughly filling in the holes. It went on like that with mechanical precision. One man digging an over-sized post hole. An empty post hole being left in the sun. One man filling in a post hole.<br /><br />I was, of course, very curious. I was new to China and I knew the Chinese had different ways of doing things. I simply couldn't fathom what the pair were doing. Was this some bizarre way to aerate soil? Or was it a way to take the hard clay and loosen it up to aid in irrigation? I set out after class, student in tow, to find out.<br /><br />The workmen were just countryside enough to be positively <span style="font-weight: bold;">thrilled</span> that a foreign teacher was expressing interest in their work. They showed me their equipment, talked about the weather and such (through translation, of course) and finally I got to the point.<br /><br />"Why is it that you're doing this here? You dig a hole, and he fills it in two holes behind you?"<br /><br />The answer was very enlightening in a Chan (Zen) sort of way.<br /><br />"Oh, our work group usually has three people," the foreman explained. "But today the tree planter is in the hospital, sick."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-84112056690237106572009-06-27T22:39:00.002+08:002009-06-27T22:48:17.458+08:00Saturday night's alright for sweating...Apologies to Elton John for misappropriating his lyrics there, but damn is it hot today.<br /><br />It's Saturday night. I've spent a day teaching my adult students (without breakfast this morning to boot). I went shopping for some necessities (Lucas got his first taste of Lego-like blocks!). Now I'm sitting in my apartment at almost 11PM drenched to the core because it's 32°C (75% humidity – humidex calculation says it feels like 47°C!) and my apartment is being "cooled" by a single room-sized air conditioner off in the corner of a single bedroom.<br /><br />Welcome to summer in Wuhan, one of the "Three <s>Hells</s> Furnaces" of China. (The other two are Nanjing and Chongqing.)<br /><br />And it isn't even July yet!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-54439399124672336262009-06-18T11:14:00.002+08:002009-06-18T11:45:27.622+08:00Junior Problem Solver(This is another Lucas story. Sorry.)<br /><br />Short story, but true. Lucas and I are playing with the toy vehicles he's obsessed with. I get a little toy plane wound up and aim at at Lucas. He steps aside and lets it sail under the bed. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Far</span> under the bed.<br /><br />I asked Joan to get the laundry stick (a thing used to get stuff on and off the high points where we hang laundry) but she was too busy to get it. I didn't want to try both keeping track of a hyperactive toddler while going out to the balcony to find the stick, so I just told Lucas "sorry, I can't get it".<br /><br />Lucas, pauses, staring at me. He then trundles off to the corner of the room where we have a long-forgotten old mop handle leaning for obscure historical reasons. This mop handle is something nobody's even glanced at for over a year. Lucas, however, not only spotted it but figured out how it could be used to get his precious aeroplane. He stands pointing at it making eager sounds and sure enough, I go get it and retrieve the plane.<br /><br />That's already pretty impressive in its own right. This gets better, though. My son has a mischievous streak in him and as soon as the handle was put back he took his plane and threw it under the bed. He misjudged the distance, though, and I was able to snag the plane without the stick. So he threw it again, much more successfully. He glances up at me with twinkling eyes full of mischief, laughing at my expression.<br /><br />Of course I'm not a nice person so I had Joan take him from the room for a short time. In that time I rescued the plane <span style="font-style: italic;">and hid the pole</span>. When Lucas came trundling back he made a beeline for the plane and, as expected, laughed as he threw it under the bed. Then, when I didn't immediately go pick up the stick to rescue it, he trundled off to where the mop handle used to be and, without looking, pointed at it making urgent sounds. I affected confusion. He looked. The most crestfallen face I've ever seen him put on without crying materialized. He was utterly baffled, actually <span style="font-style: italic;">touching the wall</span> to make sure the thing was actually gone.<br /><br />Merriment ensued.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-18774819715706214122009-06-14T21:22:00.004+08:002009-06-14T21:46:08.519+08:00Busy week<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c5Xmkgw1sAs/SjT6JJ8hZkI/AAAAAAAAArk/zWvkbEPq6DA/s1600-h/Before.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c5Xmkgw1sAs/SjT6JJ8hZkI/AAAAAAAAArk/zWvkbEPq6DA/s200/Before.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347173692791154242" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c5Xmkgw1sAs/SjT6WQqs6qI/AAAAAAAAArs/HgCEdSv6wAA/s1600-h/After.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c5Xmkgw1sAs/SjT6WQqs6qI/AAAAAAAAArs/HgCEdSv6wAA/s200/After.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347173917933759138" border="0" /></a>Well, anybody afraid that this is going to be another Lucas blog entry can rest assured that I will only be mentioning him once. Since that mention was in the previous sentence, you know the rest of the blog won't be quite as tedious as it usually is.<br /><br />In September of 2006 Joan decided to do something she's wanted to do since she was a teenage girl: straighten her teeth. Her two front teeth were crooked, you see, twisted in place by quite a large amount. Nobody really noticed this, of course, but she knew about it and was very, very insecure about her smile as a result. Those of you who've seen my earlier (sadly non-digital) photos of her will know that it's rare to actually see her smiling in a photo (or, rather, when she did smile, it was always a closed-mouth Mona Lisa-style one). Which was actually quite a shame because when she's smiling (naturally, that is) her face lights up like a pinball game that's just hit the "free game" jackpot.<br /><br />September of 2006 marked her decision to move away from this. She went to the dentist, got evaluated, got four teeth pulled and thus began a two-year (maximum!) process of adjusting her teeth. This week, on Wednesday, June 10, 2009, the work was finally completed. Yes, the two-year maximum process took just under three years. Three years of discomfort and three years of metal in the mouth. Sometimes sharp metal. Even with metal in her mouth, however, Joan already started to smile properly and naturally, wearing the braces almost as a badge of honour.<br /><br />Finally, however, it's over. Above and to the left you can see what Joan's smile looked like on Tuesday and to the right you can see what it looked like Wednesday. Pretty big change over a day, isn't it?<br /><br />Of course it's still not completely over. She has retainers she has to wear 24x7 (except when eating) for a year, then nights-only for another year. She's had to relearn how to talk because the retainers occupy quite a bit of space in the mouth, but they're visibly much less intrusive than were the braces before.<br /><br />In other news, and the reason for my delay in posting any news at all, I have officially signed my new contract at my new workplace. I'm moving over to the Hubei Provincial Communication Technical College (or something approximately like that which I'll translate better when I get the energy) in under a month and will be starting teaching there September of this year.<br /><br />The general run-down on the new place:<br /><ul><li>The staff are friendlier and more communicative than my current school, not to mention better organized and better capable of communicating in English.<br /></li><li>The salary is a bit higher, but so are the teaching hours (the hourly remuneration is about the same).</li><li>The students are going to be of much, much lower quality than the main campus (and possibly even slightly lower quality than the Sweathogs campus).</li><li>The new apartment is a bit smaller, but much more nicely outfitted (it has an air conditioner/heater in each room, for example).</li></ul>Also, again unlike my current school, they're willing to let me move in over the summer. One thing that I <span style="font-weight: bold;">really</span> didn't like about ISSWHU the first year I was there (albeit about the only thing at the time since I hadn't been introduced to the Sweathogs yet) was that they positively refused to allow us to move in over the summer. Instead I had to stow my possessions at a friend's apartment and live in Joan's apartment in Hanyang over the summer and then hastily move everything in while I was also planning lessons and getting oriented in the new location just before I started teaching. Why? They didn't want to be responsible for me or my behaviour over the summer before I started working for them.<br /><br />So the move is a mixed bag that, in my opinion, slightly tilts toward the "plus" side of the scales when I measure them.<br /><br />No other particularly interesting news to report otherwise. I mean it's damned hot, but I think I've been complaining about that loudly to anybody who'd listen since I first got to China. (How hot? Try 35C at 84% humidity.) I am going to <span style="font-weight: bold;">really</span> enjoy living in an apartment where I don't have a single room-sized air conditioner trying to cool down a sizable two-bedroom apartment.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-59598688403752817882009-06-04T13:15:00.003+08:002009-06-04T13:27:40.415+08:00An exchange on Facebook of the "truth hurts" variety.Names elided to protect the guilty.<br /><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">You're blocking XXX? How come?</span><br /><br />Something she did on my blog a few years back made me decide I'd rather exist in a world in which she does not exist. Since the digital world is easily adjusted to allow the editing of life, I proceeded to make the world I wanted.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What exactly did she do on your blog?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Was it the time she described you as cranky and sexist, or the time when she said you were turning 52 on your birthday, or was it the time she called you an adult baby, or was it the time...?</span><br /><br />I will let her guess which time it was.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Those North American women. When will they learn just how spoiled they are, and bow down to your genius?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">;-) Do you still feel that way?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yeah, XXX can be tactless. Like me. I suppose it's why we get along. She actually asks me now and then to read over emails she is sending, where she is trying to say something subtle and difficult.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I suspect she still has unresolved anger over arguments with you. You know, stuff you said about women and their periods and how feminism is all bullshit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'd like to think being married and reproducing has changed you somewhat. Mike told me that you seemed to understand your wife is the boss, as it is with nearly all partnerships, I suspect.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I've been in therapy for a year now. I am getting my shit together. I even applied for an art show with the city of Ottawa. But lately I find myself getting in touch with old rage. And I suspect that's the real reason I'm talking to you lately. No one I've met has ever been better at rage than you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't know if I mean that as a compliment or an insult.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Take all of this as you will.</span><br /><br />I feel that way more than ever about North American feminists. When seeing women who have REAL problems in life it's hard to take seriously the whining of Canadian and American women.<br /><br />As to the tactless thing, you pale in comparison to XXX. At your most tactless people still mostly liked you. At her least tactless people mostly tolerated XXX. She was put up with because you were liked -- a sort of "take the good with the bad" approach.<br /><br />I have an advantage over these people. I don't have to put up with her at all. Nobody can (legally) edit a person out of their physical lives, but my life with my old crowd is all-digital now. I can edit anybody out I care to without having to get my hands bloody.<br /><br /><div style="font-style: italic;">Please edit me out of your life too. </div><br />Why? If you want out of my life you just have to stop inserting yourself into it.</blockquote>He took this to heart and blocked me on Facebook like I blocked his girlfriend. Nothing ends a friendly relationship than telling a guy that his girlfriend is a <span style="font-weight: bold;">total and absolute bitch</span> with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-66664954905076888502009-05-31T21:43:00.002+08:002009-05-31T22:27:15.220+08:00A try at being serious.Usually in this blog I'm flippant and irreverent, at least when I'm not angry. Since I've been challenged, however, to write something that's difficult and thoughtful I thought I'd first try my hand at being serious.<br /><br />I'd like to introduce an old woman to you. She's nobody special. I mean obviously she was someone special to her family and friends, but on a scale beyond that she was nobody anybody knew about or would care to know about.<br /><br />I saw this woman almost every time I walked between my home and the nearest supermarket or the nearby bus station. Say I saw her about three times a week. She was a shrivelled-up little thing. Short. Wrinkled. Every (visible) piece of flesh sagged under the weight of years. I would guess she was in her late seventies or possibly even older.<br /><br />How can I guess her age? Whenever I saw her, she was sitting outside of the little house—shack, really—that served as her family home as well as a teeny cigarette and booze shop. The shack had four generations of people in it ranging from a child not much older than Lucas to this woman. A bit of math and I've got her in her late seventies and possibly even her early eighties.<br /><br />This woman was in the deep throes of dementia. It was clear every time I saw her that she did not have much time left in this world. She would sit in a crudely-made bamboo chair under a piece of fibreglass sheeting propped up by a stick acting as a crude sunscreen and rain shelter in front of the family home, stare down at the ground and mumble to herself constantly. She didn't interact with anybody; her family would address her with respect and kindness, would take care of her, but she never really directly acknowledged them.<br /><br />This was the normal state of affairs. Sometimes, however, she would, fleetingly, show glimpses of awareness of her surroundings. She might smile at what was probably her great-grandson, for example, and reach out to him. Or (and this is where I come in) she might actually look up at the world, see a stranger—a foreigner—and smile with almost childlike wonder. These moments were rare as far as I could tell. I maybe saw them once a month or less. It was their rarity and their unexpectedness that made them inexplicably valuable.<br /><br />The more perceptive readers will have noted by now that I persist in using the past tense to speak of this woman. About two weeks ago, you see, something changed in that home and tiny shop. A large wreath suddenly occupied that primitive shelter in front of the shop that the woman sat in. Too, the house was alive with visitors: people smoking, people playing 麻将 (Mahjong) – people, in short, having a good time at all hours of the day and night for two days straight. I caught this at roughly 6PM and then again much later in the day. It was clear that the family was awake and active around the clock.<br /><br />Why is this significant? That's how the Chinese mark a death. Think something along the lines of an Irish wake and you've got it about right. To help ease the spirit of the dead person into the afterlife you celebrate. You don't go to sleep (or, rather, more accurately, there's always somebody awake and active). In this way you drive off the evil spirits and calm the recently dead. Everybody in the family and in the circle of friends participates in this ritual to ensure that there's no time without the noise of a happy family.<br /><br />Why else is this significant? That old lady I never knew anything about, but who would on infrequent occasions make eye contact with and reward me with a smile of purest wonder and joy, I've never seen since. When the wreath disappeared, so did she. I've never seen her sitting outside the little shop that was her home since.<br /><br />This leaves me unaccountably sad.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-16359583093941318592009-05-29T22:40:00.007+08:002009-05-29T23:25:43.957+08:00OK, before Mom kills me......I should probably keep my promise, albeit two days delayed.<br /><br />This is another Lucas entry people, so if you're not interested in a parent's obviously unbiased view as to his spawn being the cutest thing in the world, move along. I understand there's a blog featuring paint drying that's probably more interesting than this one will be.<br /><br />So, I keep getting asked what Lucas is like. I keep getting stymied in trying to explain it. How, exactly, do you describe a whole personality in a few, short sentences? Lucas is a human being (if only just barely at times). And despite being under 18 months old he's still a complex creature. For example he's got "exhuberant, laughing bundle of joy" <span style="font-weight: bold;">and</span> he's got "cranky, whiny little thing". Talk about <span style="font-weight: bold;">range</span>! <s>Jack Nicholson</s> Heath Ledger's got nothing on him!<br /><br />OK, snarky levity aside, I guess it's time to try and explain what Lucas is like. I'll supplement this with a few pictures.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;" align="left"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/T1IsPbC9x_i2ZYWoF3TXNg?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_wrU_Ea7xxAMNOfzO4ETkIR4OlvMSGq9ATwPDqjLKquXnKH_DEKmbGBUtB9VaRzgRp0dF8qtgQMTgArjvXsOCsmevePYR0ulxxI5BS0KPdwmEfyRd4NZDt0ScmhvPESgjeVr6xByJAxN/s144/p1010704.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ttmrichter/Lucas?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite">Lucas</a></td></tr></table>In general Lucas is a joy. He's happy and mirthful and interested in everything around him. Even the things I don't want him to be interested in. Perhaps especially the things I don't want him to be interested in. You've all seen his happy, interested face in previous entries so I won't bother showing those. Direct your eyes to the picture on the left instead for what his face looks like when he doesn't get what he wants. What's happening there? He wants something and Daddy isn't giving it to him. So he's grabbing Daddy's leg and looking really cranky.<br /><br />Now usually Lucas isn't cranky. He's cranky a little bit when he's tired but doesn't want to sleep. He's cranky a little bit when interested in something that we won't share with him. Otherwise, however, he's fine. Except when he's sick. Like he was this week, with a cold. See that cranky face above? Imagine a week of this. (This isn't to say that he's always cranky when he's ill. He's just cranky a whole lot more often and switches from giggling to cranky faster than Sichuan Opera singers switch masks.)<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;" align="right"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/PH1GPsFS2b-ejUnXpnCpOA?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfX6nwiqP8se66j9uXdq5TM9TFxpMrxssY-qYQf1XkMy6EFEuF55JUqbMc1dged7YQMK8ved9vB2a3KSZ1SgP4mLGbXejuLqqXHLN71BfkptIavOacBERaBu7Vs_jSY0pUWkHTgF2681A/s144/p1010656.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ttmrichter/Lucas?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite">Lucas</a></td></tr></table>One of the other things you don't get to see much of in photos is Lucas sleeping. This is a tragedy, really, because it's one of the things that he's really, really good at. He sleeps with gusto (as you can tell from the photo gracing the right). A bed that's big enough to hold two adults (one of whom is known for being a restless sleeper no less) isn't big enough to hold Lucas without having a tent around him to prevent him from splitting his head when he rolls off. Like he did last night. The rolling off thing, I mean, not the splitting head. The tent on the bed (which, again, you can see in past pictures) saved him from everything except the fright of his life. His screeching howls brought three people to his room in about two heartbeats only to have him suffer the indignity of having those same three people laugh at his terror as we found him trapped at the foot of the bed by the tent. (I know this makes us awful human beings, but it <span style="font-weight:bold;">was damned funny</span>!)<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;" align="left"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/CIzwZoL9rd8o3KuuZX29wA?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SbEktQTn5ycDkS6EbiBvbVUrmXSxuyklAgjTVrPeDvPvGO1CDQVcNGZ3My1jTUbkuwEh2VHxmfbsdf58P6YQVl8Q11g3Yl3VGjWzAWJnefAxKHWyxRuq7aRCTEuJNXafUK8eqdak78nX/s144/p1010678.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ttmrichter/Lucas?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite">Lucas</a></td></tr></table>Of course he doesn't always sleep in a bed. When Joan and her mother go shopping they bring Lucas along and Lucas often gets worn out from pointing at things and grabbing at things and in general getting overstimulated and overexcited by things. A lot of times when they return, the picture you see to the left is what I'm greeted with.<br /><br />We generally just leave him in the stroller until he wakes up by himself. This could be hours later.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;" align="right"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/JsTdQ4Qp5mRAYCJyBlhSsQ?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDca7jUTlo6pdVDZ7MVDdnVsMEpHjFkOdBlMZHcJqyHHyoDQp0ho3-GHm_EsLu5heuBPCOijvNV3F7xHsdN8g_rm90eyXOuy98L1gMLtNxOvr0HccUaecvXvmq7B5VA4qXFzGODlDR3i9/s144/p1010667.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ttmrichter/Lucas?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGE4t32pMvmaQ&feat=embedwebsite">Lucas</a></td></tr></table>The walking thing that had us so scared earlier in the year has gone swimmingly. Lucas now trundles around under his own steam and turns our hair white one at a time as he does bone-headed things like walking into corners and door or stumbling over deceptively level floors. Luckily we have a harness rigged up on him that usually permits us to catch him before he hurts himself. The main problem here is that he just gets so excited with whatever has his attention that he forgets about small things like "balance" or "not being in the same place as hard objects". We don't always keep him in a harness, though, as you can see by the picture to the right. (The indistinct thing in the bowl, incidentally, is Lucas' very short-lived pet shrimp. No, I will not be explaining that any further.) Mostly we have him in the harness when outdoors (because falling there can be really bad) or when he's tired and his balance hits levels that in Canada would make a breathalyzer test mandatory.<br /><br />So there's a thumbnail sketch of my son. The extrovert toddler inflicted upon to introvert parents. (I'm sure that I'm being paid back for something in a past life. Saṃsāra can be a real bitch.) I hope this has given enough of a taste that I stop getting hounded by a frustrated grandmother who has yet to meet her grandson. (In a similar vein I hope that peace breaks out in the Middle East and that I get a hunk of that green cheese from the Moon.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-51523641771863794402009-05-17T15:37:00.003+08:002009-05-17T15:45:30.051+08:00A shift in direction...For years Jeff has been my little hole in the Great Firewall that allowed me to <s>download pornography</s> access the web unhindered while living in China. Basically the Great Firewall is a joke that only stops lazy people and stupid people (neither of whom you really want on the Internet anyway, so you could view it as a public service). Jeff, very kindly, kept a server in his basement hooked up that allowed me to redirect all requests for web pages that were deemed a danger to the state here through a Canadian server that allowed such things.<br /><br />About a month ago this server's connection went flaky and died. Jeff, being newly married and kind of in a complex part of life, didn't have the time to check it out. I didn't mind, though, because very few sites I really cared about got blocked. That changed this week as Blogger turned out to be a threat to the Chinese government. It became imperative that the problem get solved and, for some reason, Jeff was incommunicado.<br /><br />I decided that it was really unfair to have Jeff be responsible for my free (as in freedom, not beer) Internet access and embarked on a project to change this. So as of today I have my own tiny, cheap VPS in the USA that runs my little backdoor to the rest of the Internet; the stuff the Chinese government thinks is too dangerous to be seen. Like my blog here. The one I'm posting. Telling you what a bunch of utter shitheads the Chinese government is for being afraid of my little key-clickings telling you harmless, inoffensive things about China (for the most part). Apparently I am a danger to the state. Funny, I don't feel any different from last week this time....<br /><br />Mr. Hu Jintao? I want the six hours I spent debugging this setup back. Please mail it to me you frightened little child.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-13813058720002834962009-05-12T21:45:00.002+08:002009-05-12T22:04:12.052+08:00Ever have one of those days?So...<br /><br />I'm not sure how to begin this, to be honest. It's just too damned surreal a day. It started off normally enough. I woke up a half-hour before my alarm went off and stared at the ceiling because, for a change, I'd actually had had enough sleep. I had a nice leisurely shower and breakfast and then ambled off to work. I came home, did the job search thing, planned my week's lessons for Wuhuan Engineering and generally relaxed or played with Lucas or both.<br /><br />3:15 rolls around and I hit the road. I got to Wuhuan way early and wound up playing a video wargame on my N800 for almost an hour before my classroom was opened. (They're way off out in the boondocks, you see, and bus service there can be very, very fast like today or I can wind up with scant minutes to spare because of snarling traffic. Yes, I said "snarling" there. It's called a pun. Look it up.)<br /><br />Anyway, my teaching goes exceedingly well (I have a really good class in Wuhuan and love teaching there), but the first bit of surrealism invades at about that point. Joan calls about an hour in at 6PM. She'd forgotten I was off teaching you see and was on her way home from work when the batteries in her scooter ran out. She had called to see if I could come out and pick her up, taking the scooter home. Since I was about a three hour walk (more, even?) away that wasn't really feasible so the poor little girl wound up having to push her heavy scooter home a distance that's a good 20 minute walk for me at full speed without a load. And push the scooter up the hill. It's a pretty damned tall hill.<br /><br />Anyway, I finish my teaching, catch the shuttle bus that takes me about half-way home and then the public bus that drops me off about a 25-minute walk from home. (About 5 minutes, yes, away from where Joan ran out of battery power.) As I get off the bus, I call Joan to make sure she got home OK. Had she left the scooter somewhere, you see, I'd have picked it up on the way seeing as I carry the keys with me for just such a possibility.<br /><br />Joan made it home alright, but she wasn't in the apartment. Nor was her mother. Nor was Lucas. They were all stuck out in the hallway because Joan's mother had broken the key off in the lock at about 5PM after returning from some shopping. They were stuck outside and had already tried one locksmith and were on their second in getting the door opened. Needless to say I rushed home as quickly as I could, finding my family sitting in the stairwell while a locksmith hammered and picked and hammered and picked and hammered and picked and ...<br /><br />Well, I got it in my head that perhaps food would be needed for the spud (and the rest of the family, but mostly the spud). It was 9PM by that time, however, and any of the places we'd have wanted to get appropriate foods from were closed. I was sent off on a mission to get some things and managed to find none of them. I instead had to get more expensive alternatives that were sorta-kinda the things we'd sent me out to get in the first place.<br /><br />This emptied my wallet, incidentally, of all my spending money for the month.<br /><br />This trip itself was a half-hour round trip so I got back shortly after 9:30 and, just as I pressed the elevator call button, I got the message that the door was opened and I didn't need to go get the food after all.<br /><br />Lovely.<br /><br />So how was your day?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4700399919873200761.post-23657726770180160922009-05-10T19:45:00.002+08:002009-05-10T19:55:18.832+08:00Annoying aspects of life in China.I went, at Joan's behest, to give a sample lesson at a language training school. I had misgivings about things even before we went and, to my intense depression, found that my misgivings were, if anything, optimistic.<br /><br />First off, they wanted a 40-minute sample lesson. For a class of students ranging in age from 3 (!) to 9 (!!). This is, flatly, on the face of it, ludicrous. "Oh, they all have the same English level" is not a defence. A three-year old has the attention span of an average gnat while a nine-year old has the attention span of at least three gnats. Teaching to one will bore the other, no matter what.<br /><br />Oh, and of course, I had about 15 minutes to prepare for this lesson. And nobody could tell me clearly what the students had or had not yet learned. "They've almost finished the first book." "How many units remaining?" "We've started on the second book." "So you've finished the first?" "We've almost finished." Ad nauseum.<br /><br />So I assembled a lesson from nothing for an age group I have no experience with and an age range which is clearly ludicrous. Only to find out that the main teacher of the class was basically incapable of communicating in English. Joan had to do interpretation on those rare occasions where I needed instructions translated because the class teacher was utterly useless. And, of course, I had three-year olds mixed with nine-year olds.<br /><br />To call the resulting lesson a travesty would be too unkind to real travesties.<br /><br />Did I mention that it was incredibly hot as well? That we went an hour there and back for this? I didn't? Consider it mentioned now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16377787154756384150noreply@blogger.com3