As I walked into my classroom to check on my kids during their passing time, one of the well-behaved students warned me: “you’ll be scared when you attend class later.” I assumed she meant our class 3’s banzhuren 班主任 (homeroom teacher) had been minorly ticked off at some miscellaneous student’s disruptive behavior. What actually happened was far from what I imagined. Two of the guys from class 3 were playing outside. Our banzhuren is strict, and requires them to be back in the classroom at earlier times than all the other classes. Long after they were supposed to be back, they were caught by the banzhuren, but not confronted immediately. As the banzhuren brought it up in class, both of them denied everything, saying she must’ve mistaken someone else for them. Their bluff failed, as she was apparently just a few meters behind them. And so, like any other teacher would’ve done, she scolded them, yelled at them, and enacted her punishment. Our banzhuren, however, told them both to empty their desks, pack up their belongings, and go home. She told them to call their parents and to tell them that they would be staying at home indefinitely until she allowed them to come back to the school. She spent about an hour talking to parents of both kids, one came back to the classroom (Mitch) and the other (Patrick) actually went home, missing approximately four hours of school for the day. It’s not unusual for Chinese teachers to enact punishment in the form of making kids stand up for the remainder of class, etc. Our banzhuren is physically the opposite of intimidating, but when she erupts, the entire class trembles in their seats. This was the first outburst I witnessed where students were actually sent home, only to return when the banzhuren allowed so. Later that evening, Mitch’s entire dorm (16 guys) stood in the middle of the courtyard upright and in order of ascending height. The banzhuren had discovered snack food wrappers under the beds, and took the entire dorm outside to interrogate. One by one, kids returned to the dorms until only two were remaining (the time was approximately 11:00PM; kids are supposed to be in their dorms lights out at 9:30PM). I later found out the remaining two kids (Mitch among them) had to stay in the office until midnight. During lunch the next time, I spoke to Mitch directly about what happened. He dismissed it as nothing serious, which wasn’t how I would describe the situation. I asked him jokingly if he was scared the day before, yet he nonchalantly responded no. In fact, he seemed to exude confidence almost as if he just got away with something far more serious (in his case, blatantly disrespecting authority). He continued on by saying: “what can she do? She can’t hit me. Even if she did, it wouldn’t hurt.” I nodded; what Mitch said made sense, coming from a cocky 13-year-old’s perspective. But then he added: “plus, I’m a citizen. If she even lays one finger on me, I’ll report her to the police.” At first it didn’t hit me, but later I realized that he had said 公民, not 农民. The former refers to citizens of Beijing- those with hukou: the normal Beijinger. The latter refers to migrants- those without hukou, and subsequently those at the mercy of unsympathetic law enforcement and nonexistent social services. While Patrick, the other student who got sent home, departed with tears in his eyes, Mitch seemed unfazed by it all. I could understand why. Lucas already posted about the role of teachers in Chinese education. To summarize: because students spend so much time at school (both in terms of class time and in terms of actually living at the school instead of at home with parents), teachers also adopt a parenting mindset; education in China involves citizenry in addition to academics. This is especially evident at Dandelion. Every Monday morning, students line up in the courtyard listening to the good deeds performed by various students (just this week, a storm buffeted the courtyard, and some students received recognition for proactively cleaning and mopping the school before it resumed). The teacher making the announcements begins each time by reciting Dandelion’s four word motto: 自信, 乐群, 求真, 创造 (Confidence, joy, honesty, creativity). The students chant the words in unison afterwards. Class 3 has a chart near the front of the classroom tallying up peoples’ good deeds. Many children (at least out of the ones I’ve talked to) used to stay at home, however many had to adjust to living at the school instead, whether it’s because of inconvenient commute to and from the school, or the parents are simply too busy at work to drop off and pick up their kids. One of the new faculty (a security guard who has had years of general schoolchildren management) and I later had a conversation regarding teachers and how well they manage their classes. He told me nine students in the ninth grade decided to not take the zhongkao (middle school test to get into high school). At some point, students just don’t care anymore, and nothing gets through to them to motivate them. He emphasized that 7th grade teachers have it the hardest. Many of the 7th graders walk around with a naïve innocence, a stark contrast to the occasional jaded 9th grader I’ve seen wandering around the courtyard or playing pick up basketball. If even one 7th grade teacher slacks off or doesn’t lay down the hammer (so to speak), that’s 40 potential citizens Dandelion has failed. It’s easy to associate the kids’ full identities with their school identities. Having spent most of their time in the classroom listening to orders from various teachers, it’s admittedly hard to tell if these kids even get to have any fun or freedom. Fortunately, the school sponsored an outdoor survival trip for 50 seventh graders in the Northeastern Changpin district of Beijing. They met at the school at 8:00AM. Though it was still technically a school event and they were required to wear their uniforms, the event was noticeably more lax: only two Dandelion teachers accompanied the group (not including myself), and many of the kids brought their own cell phones, which aren’t allowed at the school. When they got there, they broke up into groups of 5, learned how to tie knots, find north without a compass, start fires, pitch tents, build a stretcher, and rappel down a wall with a rope and harness. The last bit was probably the most fun to watch, as kids literally trembled as they climbed up the big yellow rig and later as they glanced at the long drop down. Many kids were too scared to go down the zipline, so the guy running the zipline just pushed them off (obviously they were secured in their harnesses and everyone survived without injury). All the kids’ response was that it was really a 刺激 (stimulating) experience. The field trip was probably one of my favorite experiences with the kids thus far. Unfortunately the kids all had to wear their school uniforms, but aside from that, I feel like I got to see a whole different side to them other than what they’re like as students. Most brought their phones with them, playing games or QQing their other classmates on the entire bus ride over. They ran around and laughed so much more than I’ve ever seen them at school, but that’s pretty unsurprising given the strictness of their banzhuren. After we finally got back to the school (around 5:00PM), the kids were free to go home. Unsurprisingly, most of them went to go get junk food at the places across the street from the school. I joined them as about 12 of them were munching on fries, subpar hamburgers, and flavorless soft serve ice cream. During this time, I found out one of the girls in my class supposedly has a “thing” with another guy, but her friends don’t know who it is either so the likelihood of me finding out is looking slim. One by one, the kids finished their rarely eaten 快餐(convenient foods like noodles and junk food) and dispersed in all directions from the school. Of course, school is never completely out of the picture for these kids. Their homework is to write a journal entry about this trip in English, due Monday. They only have Saturday as an entire day free from school (they also get Friday from 3:00PM and Sunday until 3:00PM free). As I said goodbye to my kids, it didn’t feel like the kids were going back to enjoy the rest of their weekend. Instead, they responded with “see you tomorrow at remedial Sunday class!” I feel like I’ve gotten a slightly deeper insight into the dynamic of the 7th grade’s class 3 and its inhabitants over this week. This class of 38 will follow their banzhuren all the way until they take the zhongkao and eventually (hopefully) graduate from the 9th grade. |