Foreign Face

Yesterday I was a superstar. One of my supervisors/colleague asked me to go promote an English training school in Yanzhou--a neighboring town. I knew I wasn't interested, but "no" isn't easy to say in China. In fact, he changed the time thrice to work around my schedule. So two hours after he asked me, we were on the road.

I didn't want to go for two main reasons: One, I knew it would take a big chunk of time, and I had to cancel some plans that I had been excited about. Two, it all felt a little slimy--it appeared that if you chose to attend this "English training school," I would be your teacher, which of course, was not the case. My face was simply good advertising.

We went to a school for miner's children. According to the translator (and student reaction), I was the first foreigner the students had ever seen. As I went classroom to classroom promoting English study, the students roared with excitement.




I hadn't prepared anything in advance, so I mostly asked questions to investigate their interests: surfing the internet, watching basketball, playing badminton, and listening to Justin Bieber.


Students peering in the classroom window to see the foreigner.

It was really fun. . .until someone asked for my signature. I hesitated. I really shouldn't have said yes, but my supervisor nodded that I should. Then there was a stampede. It was my first time to be mobbed. I was nearly knocked down, I couldn't see to sign my name and children kept forcing their papers over others to ensure that they got my, well, completely worthless scribble of "Mal."

Can you see me? I'm in there.

When we got to the car, students pounded on the windows. My colleague said I should do a few more signatures so with the window rolled down and the car surrounded, I signed many a Hello Kitty notebook.

I was the guest of honor at a dinner as a thank you for coming to the school. I didn't want to be honored. I just wanted to go home. Two hours of stares and physical bombardment had worn me out. It was a rough night at the dinner. I knew it would be when I saw the boxes of alcohol carried in. Only my colleague could speak English (and one other guy, but his English was poor and worthless once he was drunk). There was lots of drinking, toasting, vegetables dishes in my honor (and confusion about why I wouldn't eat meat), and loud Chinese that I didn't understand. Me and my colleague gave rides home to the others who were all red in the face and high in spirits from an evening of too much rice wine.

We left Qufu at 2pm yesterday. We got home about 10pm. Not exactly how I would have chosen to spend my day. It's not easy being a star.