Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Presents

It was a great day, filled with many joys. Recently, a number of students have been giving me small gifts of candies or cookies before class. Today I received an orange from a boy and two pieces of Almond Rocca from a girl. The Almond Rocca was extra special because it had been a gift from the girl’s elder sister after she, the older sibling, returned from a trip to the United States. I felt honored when the student gave it to me and said, “I hope it reminds you of home.” 


I received applause from a class when I was passionately explaining that American history is important and that it’s impossible to understand American culture if you don’t learn about the country’s past. I had just finished saying, “You know, American students are just like you guys. When I was teaching them about Chinese history they didn’t care. They said, ‘I’m never going to China. Why should I care? China’s not important.’ I got mad at them just like I’m getting mad at you. This stuff is important! You can’t understand America without understanding its past!” As I was pausing to take a mid-rant breath, one student started clapping and the action quickly spread throughout the room. The response was shocking, but it made my day because it showed me that the message had broken through the language and cultural barriers.


This may sound strange considering the fact that my needles have been furiously productive during my time here, but I miss knitting. I miss my knitting books, the semi-completed projects that are stored in plastic boxes, and my special crafting tools. I miss being able to read a yarn label or knowing the yarn’s content and weight. I miss placing an online order for supplies at KnitPicks.com and anxiously waiting a week for the shipment to arrive. To keep things in perspective, I keep reminding myself that I will be back to my comforts soon and that I have years to enjoy it all; now I must savor my time in China because we will be leaving shortly. We’re almost able to count our remaining weeks on our two hands. Strange, isn’t it?