By Tina

What do you say before eating?’

‘What can I say before eating? I know that you say something. What about me? I don't have anybody to pray to. Could I just say “thank you” to my mom and dad?’

A twenty-year-old student of mine and I were having lunch together when he asked me this. I couldn’t answer well for we were in a restaurant where quite a few foreigners were eating too. I was surprised and at the same time paranoid in answering such a simple yet striking question. This young man tested my beliefs in a way he couldn't imagine.

In China, we can’t to be so open expressing our faith. That makes it quite awkward for a Catholic like me to make the sign of the cross before a meal or even call a clerical colleague by his proper title. This can be hard to adjust to at first. So before eating I’d rather say a short prayer silently and skip the sign of the cross. This can be difficult at the beginning but you eventually get used to doing your Catholic practices in a subtle way.

So I answered, ‘Yes, I think you can say “thanks” to your mom and your dad for giving you the money for the food you are about to have, and wish that they too may eat the same kind of food.’ He then asked, ‘What could I really say if I was like you? Could I possibly hear it?’ And so I uttered, ‘We usually say, “Bless us, o Lord, and this food we are about to eat. Bless those who prepared it and those who are not having the same kind of decent meal we have now. Amen.”’

I hoped that I explained the matter well and let him know what he wanted to know. I hope that, more than the words he heard from me, he saw something good in that practice that will make him think that I am a good person. Sometimes I ask myself if I’m still making sense with my life in China. Am I capable of changing the ideas and opinions about life of others by my own way of living? These questions can bother me. I’ve been here four years and the students never cease to amaze me. It's so strange how simple questions from them can rock my spiritual peace. I almost forgot to pray that day in the restaurant until the young man’s question reminded me that I needed to do so before I bit into that juicy, expensive burger.

Of Chopsticks and Students Choosing Teachers.

‘Teacher can you take my photo? It's my first time to eat with spoon and fork and not with chopsticks.’ So I did as requested. This is just one clear picture of the simplicity of the Chinese students I’ve met for the last four years.

I took a photograph of each class I had at the start of this semester. The Foreign Language College, where I’m one of ten foreign faculty members, has created a new scheme to motivate students to study. Now they can choose the teachers they like to have. It’s quite rewarding for the teachers but can be a bit complicated in the end.

I have 43 students in my biggest class and 21 in my smallest. I complained because I thought that with the ‘choose whom you like system,’ the administrators should have come up with a ceiling number per class for efficiency. A Spoken English class with a large number is less effective. Thus, I needed to take a photograph of each student to put the right name on the right face. This can be difficult, especially when you get two Helens, three Maggies or four Cindys in a class among others with popular English names.

I succeeded in dividing my classes, which was difficult as students had different schedules and it was impossible to find the best time for each. Teachers had to find their own way to release the tension that could otherwise affect the teaching-learning process. I ended up having 28 or 29 students in each section, still a big number but a great relief from 42 or 43.

There are so many other simple stories of China and my students, so many things in my mind and in my heart that I’ll never stop sharing with my friends. Maybe I’ll write them all when my hair starts to become gray, my spectacles are thicker, and when I’ll need to spend more time alone because I’ll have all the time in the world just for myself.