One of my favorite movies of all time is Me and You and Everyone We Know. It's about making connections with people, whether it's for romantic, curious, or obligatory reasons. I am a person who craves connection. Part of it stems from being an only child and having to mostly entertain myself. It fuels much of my creativity, that I'm not only trying to connect with other people but also connecting with the page, the screen or the brush. Me and You and Everyone We Know is about the direct and indirect relationships we have with people and objects and time, as well as visualizing our desires and making them happen.

Today I finished my first round of classes. I teach four writing classes at the university and week one is officially over, even though Mondays usually imply a beginning. Teaching is interesting, it's rewarding, and it also is a form of self-introspection that I would search for when drawing self-portraits. When I stood in front of a classroom and let myself teach, I recognized aspects I don't always notice about myself. I'm funny, I'm animated, I am far more emotionally driven than I am by logic. I am more concerned with my students enjoying class, wanting to come to class, and learning along the way. I expect to challenge them but I don't want them to dread the challenge. I stressed from the beginning that my grading scale heavily depends on participation and attendance. One of my favorite classes in college was Poetry with Marty Williams. It was a low-stress class that I hated to skip; I looked forward to going and enjoyed the time spent. This is partially because I love writing poetry, but it was nice knowing that as long as I did my best and gave my full participation, I was going to get a good grade. This was especially nice when I had other classes I dreaded going to, core classes that kicked my ass on a weekly basis. Poetry was my sanctuary. I guess I want to somewhat mimic that with my course.

Volunteer-teaching the adults at night is sometimes easier and other times more difficult than teaching the sophomores during the day. Their English is not as advanced as the university students, however, as a whole there is more of a desire to learn the subject. Not knowing Chinese makes it a challenge in both classes when I want to relay my ideas. However, when I strike a chord, a light flashes of familiarity. Teaching is about making a connection. Daily, to dozens of people at a time, I establish connections and fulfill that inner craving I've had since youth.

It was especially fulfilling last week when one of my students approached me at break and said there were other students sitting in on the class who weren't enrolled for it. They heard about me teaching it so they wanted to join. I guess all those years of unpopularity are polarizing themselves with the present time. I surely won't shut my door to it, it's nice knowing people want to take my class.

I have a student in one of my classes. Her English name is Volcano. I thought that was rad. I was able to connect with it, as half of my brain has laid dormant for four years. While I'm not violently erupting, I am blossoming ideas and observing things differently. Teaching forces you to re-examine your every day experiences. I find myself explaining to myself just what it is I'm doing, what I'm saying, how I'm saying it. Teaching helps me develop better whys and hows rather than just the whats and the whos. Go beyond the facts and form discussion. Connect.

I explained to my students today that Chinese was similar to English as it opposite: in English, ten words can describe one thing. In Chinese, one word can describe ten things. Recognizing that common, uncommon link will allow both of us to come one step closer in understanding each other.

I really like teaching. Sometimes I want to pull my hair out but it's worth it. When I make my lesson plans I think, How is this applicable to real life? Can they take this out of the classroom and actually use it or is this useless knowledge to stash away forever? I try to make my lessons as useful as possible, all the while dancing around and making them laugh so they don't get bored. I tell them it's okay to laugh at me. Self-deprecation seems to be my pattern of recognition, but at least it's a harmless form of humor. I've got their attention, they've got mine. I think we both walk out happy.

Ni-hou, my name is Misu Liusi. Well, not really, but that's my Chinese name. It's only fair if I'm going to expect my students to have an English name.

From what I've gathered from a few Chinese people, "Misu" means "miss you," and in some southern regions of China, it means "sweet." Perfect. And damn well easy for me to remember since that's what my friends call me at home anyway. Liusi is a surname that Luna gave me, who speaks incredible English. She said it's a very common surname in China. So I made an email address with my Chinese name so my students can contact me when they need help.

Yesterday was my first day teaching, at 8 am. I thought I would be confident but the insecurity hit me as soon as I stood behind the podium and saw the looks of bewilderment. It didn't help that the room was as hot as a crotch. I talked fast and normal, as I expected they would understand me, but I realized soon after that you must speak slower without condescending. Last night I volunteered to teach adults business English in a rural town outside of Baoding. It was interesting going there, walking into an engineering company that smelled like any old place smells like. Musky, like old libraries or grandparents' houses. This time I was the youngest instead of the oldest, and I did my best to try and wing my first day teaching something I had never taught. I saw it more as an experiment to see where they were at, if I could get to know them some, and what to expect in the next few weeks. We've got a lot of work to do, but I think I'm up for the task.

However, when I went to bed last night, I laid down feeling frustrated and apathetic toward the whole thing. Frustrated because I guess I expected it to magically come alive as soon as the day started, that my niche would just appear right before my eyes. Paths are not easy to pave. They take time and patience. I tried to convince myself of this, and to not be frustrated with the students either. This was only day one, and if I let it get to me this early enough in the game, I'd be screwed.

I woke up this morning exhausted (another 8 am class) but was ready in less than 20 minutes. That's insane when you include a shower. But I've noticed that since I've been in China I wake up pretty easily and don't want to waste time lying around in bed hitting the snooze. The thought of being late to one of my classes is enough to get my lazy ass out of bed and under the shower head.

Today was so much different than yesterday. I got to class early even though some students had already arrived. I avoided making any eye contact with them and worked on my roll sheet. Then the bell rang and I casually walked to the door and shut it. Then I happily exclaimed, "Ni hou!" (hello) and they eagerly said it back. I knew right then and there this was going to be a much better class than the one before. I told them a little about myself, that I love to sing, write, draw, listen to music, that I used to sing in a band. They thought that was neat. And then I said my Chinese was terrible, but I was working on it. I gave them my permission to laugh at my Chinese when each student pronounced their name. But when I'd get it right, some would start clapping excitedly. That made a huge difference.

There were some highly intelligent girls in this class. One girl, Amy, who sits in the front, spoke with such passion that it didn't sound like some memorized line to explain why you want to learn English. Another girl asked me to sing a song. I told her I would, eventually, but that we didn't have enough time today. Another girl said she was optimistic that I would be able to teach her English, and I praised her use of the word optimism. It allowed me a chance to explain the glass is half full/half empty scenario we so commonly use in English. I drew on the board two cans of Coca-Cola and explained the difference between optimism and pessimism, and that by using optimism while learning English is all the more rewarding.

I gave them my Chinese email and encouraged them to ask for help. I also told them that my grading scale will heavily depend on participation. While I will mark every error I spot and correct them, I'm not expecting perfection. If I can get as much involvement as possible in each class, I'll know I'm making a difference. I know learning English is not easy, because I'm trying to learn Chinese. They are helping me while I'm helping them. It's a fair trade.

I left feeling so good, so refreshed, so optimistic. Maybe I can make a decent teacher. I genuinely give a shit, even when I think I don't.

Later on, a woman from the administrator's office asked me if I was available around 3:30 to help conduct an interview. I gladly accepted. It was interesting...I kind of got thrown into it, not really knowing what I was in for. A young man was being interviewed for a position with the administration and I didn't realize they wanted me to start the interview. So I pulled out those skills I long since buried and asked him the very questions I had been asked so many times in the past. They wanted to know what I thought of his English. I sipped the tea they fed me and asked, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Another thing I've learned about being in China is I shouldn't hate cliches so much. Sometimes they're actually useful, especially when being told to someone who's not used to hearing them.

Thanks to Alex I improved this blog and enabled it so you can put your comments. And you should check out hers: jumpingtherat.weebly.com.

Miss you, sweet.
Misu Liusi