All Quiet on the Eastern Front...

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I almost ran right smack into her, which would have been awful because like most of the Chinese students here, she is barely five feet tall and I doubt she weighs 100 pounds soaking wet. With Audioslave blaring in my iPod, and sweat dripping off my bald head and stinging my eyes, I was on my 2nd lap around our high school track in the middle of the day.

It's hot here now, so hot the surface of the track seems to stick to my running shoes just enough to pull me back and make me feel sluggish, as if I'm running on a burnt sienna moon in a dream. I looked up with just enough time to see her, veer sharply, jerk my shoulder around and dodge her without leaving more than a few drops of sweat on her neck and collar.

I stopped and tried not to look upset, my heart was throbbing in my ears, I turned my iPod off so I could hear her. She stayed where she was, frozen, not noticing or not caring about almost being flattened like a Chinese pancake. She was smiling, but also crying.

"Hello, Mr. Ward...I want to talk on you...can we help me...the test..."

If I had not been listening to music while I was running there would be no sounds at all on the campus today. All week for that matter. Almost 3,000 students go to school here with at least 1,000 living on campus but this week it is like a ghost town. There are no students dashing between concrete buildings, there is no chatter in the snack shack, no students are playing basketball, nobody but me is on the track. There is even a plastic bag dancing and sliding in a hot breeze in front of the Library like a surreal scene from an old spaghetti Western movie. I whistle the Good, Bad, Ugly theme in my head and look up into the sun and into a six story grey building overshadowing the basketball courts.

From where I am jogging I can see into the open windows on all six floors. Every window is filled with black dots, rows and rows of students, over 900 of them in total, all looking straight ahead. Over 900 terrorized students studying for the test of their lives. Studying for a test they take a whole year preparing for. It's that important. It's also that ridiculous. But, I sigh, we are in China.

Although her English is barely intelligible, my mind translates instantly and I listen as she talks.

"I am Shau Xiao Hua...I have an English name. Jessica. Class 17. You know the test is coming up. I'm very frightened. Can you help me?"

I listen to her try to explain what she wants. I'm thinking maybe she wants me to tutor her? Work with her? It is certainly too late for that. It is all I can do really, just listen to her. In more broken English she points up to the building and says they are all studying.

The test is difficult. Really difficult! She saw me running and wanted to say hello. Get my help.

The Chinese, boys and girls alike, have a very small sphere of personal space. Americans, most Westerners actually, are comfortable speaking with a stranger across a 12" - 15" bubble of separation. Anything closer and we are uncomfortable. Farther apart and we don't make a good connection. The Chinese, for whatever social and cultural reasons (probably because there are so damn many people in this country!), are comfortable with little more than several inches of a comfort bubble. It takes some getting used to, but after six months here I am oriented and know not to touch our students in any way, but as I stand on the track listening it is Jessica who continues talking and moving close enough into me that she is brushing up against my side as we walk. She is literally leaning into me as we walk and talk. I sense that she is anxious, scared, and she just wants to talk to someone, in English, someone who understands.

The problem is, I don't understand. I don't understand at all.

From the time they are young these Chinese high school students are preparing for one test. They spend three years in high school but a full year is spent preparing for the dreaded Gao Kao (Gow Kow). It's said that Chinese students only go to two years of high school because their Senior year is spent on no other subjects other than studying for this test. One test. In some ways it's like the American SAT, except that it lasts more than twice as long and there is much more at stake and there are no practice tests. This nine-hour test is offered just once a year and is the sole determining factor for admission to virtually all Chinese colleges and universities. About three in five students make the cut. If they don't make the cut they can take it again in another year. Maybe not. Either way, this one test plots their course for the rest of their lives. Maybe Jessica won't make the cut...

She stops talking and looks to me for some answers.

My mind reels. I tell her I understand why she is anxious and that her English is very good! I remind her that she is a good student or she would not be at this high school, that she is in the #1 high school and she is very clever. I tell her that she has been studying hard for several years and she will do very well on this test. I tell her that she knows more things than she can remember right now and that it is important for her to relax, so her mind can remember everything that she has learned.

She stops crying but she still looks like she is going to collapse any second. She is still so close to me her school jacket swishes against the elbow I have gently put between us. I can see her translating my English into something she can understand.

She says she knows...but....Her voice fades and we stand there looking at each other in the heat.

I am a teacher, but I'm not her teacher. I'm not really even her friend, although she knows I am friendly. Suddenly I feel more like a symbol than a person, more like a representation, a reward, for genuine intention and determination. I have achieved what she desperately wants in her life and for her, right now, this week, it is high noon. And here I am here in her country, at her school, running on her track, personally available to her. Perhaps I am a lifeline of sorts, a talisman, maybe the good luck of the American teacher will rub off on her. I'm honored so I try to remain helpful.

I look her straight in the eye and softly tell her that she is ready and she will do well and make everyone proud.

"Okay," she says with a little bounce, "I will try my best."

"You will do well," I tell her again in a tone I use with my students in class. A little deeper, a little more like a father, a teacher, and less like a desk mate, her friend. Ironically, it is this tone that gives my students comfort. They are comforted by forceful determination. From a friend, from their family, from their teacher, from their government; For them there is security in intention.

For a split second I can see her relax. She moves away from me and drops her gaze to her shoes.

"Thank you." she says.

"You are welcome. Good luck, Jessica...now get back up there and keep studying."

She trots away. One test. Unbelievable. Brave girl.

I turn on my iPod and start to plod along the track again, each lap I look up and see the black heads, nobody looks down, nobody hangs out the window, nobody makes a sound. The test is coming...

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Comments

[Dad]

Fathers Day Presents
As I see you on that track I thank God that you "rang the bell" so many years ago. Even then you knew you were on the wrong path. This little girl was unborn, but waiting to meet you in her future. Two paths cross and each is changed by the encounter. That's life. That's the meaning of community and evolution to the Godhead. (Or as you like to say the Budda while others use different names and sounds to describe the concept of perfection many strive to emulate in face of all opposition that attempts to drag us back to the primeval ooze) When I was a boy of sixteen I asked my father in private, "How will I know when I am a man, Dad?" he replied, "When you can walk in the darkness without fear son. Then you will be a man." I never forgotten that, and used it as a mantra for many years, but one day I realized it wasn't enough for me. Maybe for a doctor from Montana, but not for me. I altered it. From that day on I have said, "When you can walk in the darkness to bring light to one who is filled with fear, then you are a man." This short article shows me you are a man, my son,in full.

[Little Brother]

Stages
Sean. what a wonderful encounter. It is so easy for (many) us to take for granted the fears and anxiousness in others, especially in a different culture. I have always been amazed at how having daughters has affected you and the way you react with children. I remember, and notice, every time we shop together or just go anywhere together how relaxed, loving, and generally at ease around kids, be it in lines, or at the beach, or where ever. I was supprized with your decision to teach kids when I first heard it years ago, but that single encounter really sums up why this path is so right for you. I know you are on a spiritual journy to discover "yourself", but I believe it is importaint (and I am sure you do) to remember how many people's lives you are and will be effecting. Much more that the average bear. These kids, the locals, everyone you encounter will most likely remember you forever.