Helpless vs. Helpful

Distance ain't easy when some of your friends are going through pure hell.

I received some truly disturbing news today that I have not been able to shake. The best word to describe the way I feel is "helpless." And that isn't even hardly scratching the surface of how they're feeling at this point in time. I know that me being there would not fix anything, but I hate not being there to lend my shoulder. It's not the strongest of shoulders but it holds a lot. My best friend's shoulders are holding more weight than ever right now, on top of being seven months pregnant. And I'm on the other end of the globe, sending emails when my internet's too weak to support Skype. Seems like such weaksauce. I know she understands I can't be there but I have a difficult time understanding it myself.

I will try and talk about something else, although I will admit to feeling guilty about doing that.

Today's lesson was about general vs. specific words, such as professional/teacher, etc. I understood the section but couldn't quite figure out an interesting way to approach it. Then it dawned on me late last night, I would introduce my students to a game of Mad Libs.

Remember Mad Libs? They've never heard of it here. I remember being in secondary school and just loving that game. It was hilarious in the classroom, but also could be a sinfully dirty game if it was played among friends. For those of you unfamiliar with Mad Libs, it's when you have a story with specific words replaced with blanks. Underneath each blank is a general word, such as "noun," "verb," "place," "girl's name," etc. I made an example sentence for them, beginning with a boy's name. "Nico!" they yelled. I gave Nico his name and they love it, especially when I yell out, "Ni-co!" as though I was still in Mexico. There's an Aviva too, and I shout, "Aviva aviva!" and that gets them going as well. Introducing the game instantly got everyone involved.

"Give me a verb!" I said.
"Went!"
"Ran!"
"Boring!" I replied.
"Skipped!"
"SWAM!"

So it was agreed that Nico swam to Shanghai. This kind of humor, great for elementary students in the States, also satisfies twenty-year-old college students in China. I like it. I like the fact I'm not begging attention from a Blackberry, pornography, or conversations about what she put on his myspace. And if they're talking about it, I don't know it.

We played another game, quite similar to MASH. Only it was far more detailed and it didn't involve who gets married or the dozens of kids they're going to have. I narrowed the list down to the specific words for each category and made a basic sentence from it. I pretended to snore. I taught them the word "robust." Make it full, give it life. Adjectives are life's decorations, regardless if they're pretty or ugly, intense or bland. When I'm iteaching writing, I actually feel passion. Sounds pretty cheesy but honestly, it's new to me. I've always been passionate about writing but it was always personal, not something I'd shout my lungs about in front of 40 students per day. I taught them the difference between tangible and intangible words. The more you can see, touch, hear, smell and taste, the more you can sense, the more robust your story becomes. I think they got it, because we managed to turn a dull sentence of, "Nelson and Stephanie traveled by boat to Milan, where they stayed in a cabin" to:

"Nelson and Stephanie, two twenty-somethings who live in Baoding, desperately needed a vacation. As an artist, Nelson had the ability to travel whenever he wanted, so he packed his paintbrushes with black ink so he could paint at dusk. Stephanie, on the other hand, was a classical pop dancer. It was difficult for her to travel unless she had permission from her ballet instructor. However, this time she was able to leave, so she and Nelson took off for Milan on a white sailboat. When they got to their wooden cabin, they realized there was a hole in the roof, so they decided to stay in a hotel instead."

I explained how conflict drives a story and grabs a reader's attention. I remember being in college and hating that idea, seeing it as a rule that needed to be broken. Why does anyone have to be fighting? I wondered. But that's when I finally recognized that conflict comes in all shapes and sizes, especially when it's in the form of woman vs. herself.

At the end of class I collected last week's assignment. Two students did not have theirs. I will admit to being a little perturbed at that. I know there were times when I didn't do homework in school, but I couldn't help but take it a little personal. Number one, they had two weeks to do it. Number two, the assignment was my way of showing them I'm working just as hard as they are. The first assignment was for them to write me an essay about whatever they wanted, just as long as a title and quote were included. When I assigned that, I told them I would go home and do the same thing. So next week, I brought in my essay, only it was filled with punctuation errors I wanted them to fix. During the week off, I used some of my time to grade their essays, and not just filling in corrections either. For every paper, I included a short, enthusiastic note that offered words of encouragement. I definitely don't intend to do that for every assignment but felt it best for the initial grade, as a proper introduction. But today, when two students didn't have copies of my essay they were supposed to grade, it bugged me. I've decided that while I will be generous with points, I'll also be just as likely to deduct when someone's not doing their part. I know English isn't easy because Chinese isn't easy. But I'm trying, and I expect them to do the same.

On that note, I'm going to go to bed.

Bre, Pete, I'm thinking about you constantly. I love you very, very much. I may not physically be there but I'm still there, here.