Kindergarten

“Good morning Teacher Hans!” Although the semi-circle of fidgety little ones seemed intimidating at first, I was encouraged by their genuine enthusiasm and returned their formulaic greeting. Little Ray took the opportunity to poke Shelly and pull her hair while Lucy began to cry for the second day in a row. Junior had green snot slowly trickling towards his upper lip so I quickly reached for the tissues. I managed to take control of the class after the children’s short lapse into pandemonium and was able to establish a rhythm. Rhythm and rhyme, chanting and singing, are all important elements to the kindergarten day. As energetic as I could be, I flitted around the white board, wildly demonstrating actions and exaggerating the ABC’s as only a foreigner could. The fatigue finally set in as we approached lunchtime. “Lunchtime, lunchtime, yum, yum, yum…” the little ones repeated with hands behind their back as they anticipated their meal.

It is both tiring and rewarding, teaching these little adults how to speak English. Already, each one has begun to form his or her distinct personality. There is Victor who is always worried about what others are doing around him and will 

not hesitate to point at others and express concern. “Oh, no!” are his two favorite words which never cease to leave his tiny lips. Then there is Alex. Alex is by far the smartest and zaniest kid of the bunch. When exiting the bathroom after triumphantly washing his hands, he adopts the posture of a dancer and falls flat on his face to impress me. He recently brought a large dinosaur to school that managed to eat several Lego bits during a break time rampage.

In the absence of my roommates who had decided to go south for the weekend, I was invited on my first field trip with the school. As the only Westerner, I felt a little “ganga” (embarrassed), but managed to make some friends on the bus ride. I-pods and photos were exchanged at random, a gateway into our separate worlds. Despite the language barrier, I quickly made friends with the assistant teachers as we made our way towards the dairy farm nestled in the valley. As relationships are the most important element in Asian culture, I benefited greatly from the opportunity to get to know my students’ parents and my fellow workers outside of class.

Patricia, the school’s manager, took me under her wing and accompanied me for most of the day. We converged on the site in orderly fashion, and with the three groups of parents and children, proceeded to follow the trail towards the main dining hall. Here, an educational demonstration commenced explaining the process of making butter, cheese, and everybody's unanimous favorite, ice cream. Several small containers were placed on the table at our disposal and soon adults and children alike were involved in the ice-cream making frenzy. Cameras flashed, smiles were exchanged, and wrists became tired from turning, as the ice cream slowly materialized.

We meandered around the park as I sweat profusely from the oppressive humidity. Sweaty and hairy, they must have thought when they pointed to my soaking t-shirt. From cows to goats to sheep, we made our way through the dairy enjoying the lush grass and blue sky void of the city’s all-too familiar smog. Liam’s mom Jenny, the finance person at our branch, paid for palm-like leaves so we could feed the goats. A tug-of–war quickly ensued between scared children and ravenous goats. I intervened and showed Liam how to properly feed the harmless animals.

The first few weeks have come and gone in a flurry of events and emotions. I have found time to establish a language exchange with one of the Taiwanese teachers from upstairs. She has agreed to teach me Chinese in exchange for me sharing my Spanish knowledge. This has proved to be helpful. The materials I have bought from around town coupled with my language exchange, have helped me make some minor progress in the language.

Typhoons are an unavoidable fact of life in Taiwan. Going outside in not recommended but is sometimes the only remedy to cabin fever, a result of hours and hours spent in a musty apartment with no air circulation. Yesterday, we were hit with the stronger of two typhoons that have struck since our arrival. In preparation for the catastrophe, I set out on a mission to stock up on some local produce and cheap bottles of water. A gust of wind and rain pinned my bike and I to a large lamppost. Not wishing to be caught in the worst of it, I continued down the street as my bike inched slowly forward through the growing puddles. My yellow poncho ballooned out as if to welcome my miserable arrival to the grocery story. The produce aisle looked strangely barren, but I managed to find some potatoes and carrots.

Bored from being imprisoned in a limited living space, we decided to visit Jenny, who lives in the same apartment building, in the afternoon. The wind howled and threatened to tear off her 4th story window as we sat playing an endless game of Chinese checkers while her little son placed pieces on the board at random. Blaring noise from the television provided a soundtrack to our ever-increasing sense of isolation from the outside world. Flipping through the channels provoked a slight pain in my neck. From Japanimation to news to Chinese MTV to Larry King Live with Ahmadinejad, we sat on Jenny’s couch anesthetized by the rotating images. In the end, I took the initiative and pressed the red power button on the remote.

Jenny’s husband finally came home and we were treated to a carefully prepared pot of Taiwanese green tea. He gifted us with a pot from his collection and, in response to my request, showed me how to best place the leaves and cure the vessel. The tea was very therapeutic and provided some calmness under the circumstances. We thanked the family and with teapot and a box of cookies in tow, made our way back to the confines of our apartment.

The storm died down that night. Ready to explore and assess the damage, we took the elevator to the first floor lobby. There, we were greeted by shattered glass and a film of water across the marble floor. One of the large windows looking out into the courtyard had shattered and had sprayed shards of glass across the waiting area. Chairs had been shuttled aside and the glass was swept into several piles. Nature is not only a creative force but a destroying force as well. Luckily, our building suffered no other structural damage and we are alive and well. School was canceled, so at least one benefit came from the torrential downpour.