the month of sickness

I've had the same cold for a month now; it's stubborn and tricky, changing itself every few days into a new kind of sickness. These days it's in my lungs or my throat, and surfaces as empty, hacking, propulsive coughs.

"I'm dying," I say to my smaller English class.
One of my Korean girls, Helen, laughs at me. "You're dying? Really?"
"Yes," I respond with all seriousness, "and I don't know why."
"Mr. Wong, have the last cookie," she says, holding out the last of the chips-ahoy I brought in for them that day. We're watching The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe as a reward for finishing the book and I thought they could use some snacks.
"No, no, you keep it," I say, declining the medicinal cookie. And for an hour my kids and I watch the movie together, and we forget that we're in the 105 classroom of the Zhong Xing building.

Before I got here, I would read on other people's blog about the constant illness once winter arrived, and I didn't believe it could happen to me. My immune system has been good to me. I thought of it as an old, reliable friend. Sometimes he would have occasional lapses in judgement, too much gambling, or forgetting a promise we had shared, but those instances were few and far between, and always forgivable. A hang of the head, a quick smile, and we would be ready to move on.

Now it's as if he decided that enough was enough. This China thing, you know, is asking quite a lot. More than your average favor. Can't be expected to handle all of it.

One of the teachers here, a New Zealander that I only knew as "Nook," recently left. Absconded. Peaced out. Right before the kids' monthly exams and a few weeks before the end of the semester. She lived below us, and would play her music loudly once every two weeks. Her TV exploded a month ago, and for days the smell of chemicals seeped through her roof (our floor) to permiate our apartment.

She taught in the elementary school, and seemed relatively content. Yet, last weekend, she managed to covertly slip away without anyone from the school noticing. A little blonde woman scurrying through the bushes.

Leaving in the middle of a contract is technically a crime, and the school has the right to stop you. In fact, Nook is now blacklisted by the Chinese government, and can no longer work in the country. If she's still in the country, she'll be held if found, if she's out, she can't return.

In some ways I can understand. The school, to say the least, has countless convoluted rules and regulations, many head-scratching policies that may or may not have anything to do with education, but we're here, and we agreed to work for ten-months, and kids are depending on us. Leaving isn't an option.

Besides, Shanghai has a dirty, confusing charm. It's affection can be easy, if you're willing to dive into the expat scene, or become the token laowai (literally "Old Whitie") for a group of Chinese friends (well, I can't do that one since it applies to only paler folk), or it can be hard earned by learning the language, and living life her like you normally would, but I like it here enough to stay for at least ten months, perhaps more even once we truly figure the city out.


Videos of last weeks ninth and tenth grade art festival coming up; you'll get to see some of my students in action, dancing inappropriately, and singing Chinese power ballads.