Saturday, September 4, 2010

You Give Me a Corpse

During a warm-up, the students and teachers each write down three things about themselves and then exchange the information so that somebody else in the class has to guess who's written what.

"'I hate the Japanese,'" reads a student.

OK, which student needs to be talked to? But the Eastern teacher is grinning, and the students right away guess him. My coteacher has announced to the teenagers his hatred.

Later a different Eastern teacher needs help finding the Chinese translation for a couple words, including condominium. "We often call it just a condo," I say.

She looks it up.

"That's a bad word," she reports. She's looked up condom. She's a recent graduate of college, and she's saying that condom is a bad word.

"Condo," I stress.

She looks it up again, again with the m.

Later I end up playing Rock Band and then Lego Rock Band in another expat's house. I forget I'm in China. I drink a margarita and then sangria. I don't really forget I'm in China. My name sounds weird in others' mouths.

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