For class today, we watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas. We wanted to watch a movie as a sort of end-of-the-semester celebration, but sometimes it’s harder to watch a movie, because it’s difficult to keep the kids’ attention and time seems to move slower. However, it was a good movie to keep the kids entertained throughout most of it—they loved all the colors and lights and interesting characters and the quirkiness.
During the second rotation, Tamera motioned for me to sit by her and little Sarah promptly planted herself on my lap, much to my elation. She cuddled in my lap, played with my fingers, played piano on my arm, and giggled when I kissed her head—she has the most adorable giggle in the world. Every time I stood up to settle the other kids or get peanuts, she would wait for me to return and then hop back onto my lap. She honored me by offering me bits and pieces of the dried fruit in her pocket, which is a delicacy for the kids; she would only hand it out to her special friends.
She’s very quiet, but when she speaks (English or Chinese), her high-pitched five-year-old little girl voice melts my heart. Everyone loves Sarah, even all the other kids; they take care of her and speak softly to her, even if they just hit or kicked someone else. It’s very sweet.
Kim, a few chairs down, kept looking at me and reaching out for my hand; she seemed sad, and I knew why: she was one of my students who really took the news of me leaving hard. As soon as I told her, she said, “Oh….” And immediately became melancholy. Today, when I squeezed her hand, her eyes lit up like I’d just given her the world.
Once, I stood up to get something and Lily bounded over to me, a pleading look in her dark eyes. Sarah was content for the moment with Kylie’s company, so I sat in Lily’s seat and placed her in my lap. She was ecstatic; she proved her elation by kissing my cheek. We’ve accidentally kissed on the lips twice now, but today she had the audacity to initiate an intentional lip-smacker. She turned my head, quickly kissed my lips, and then burst into a fit of giggles.
“Teacher,” she said, excited, “you, me, three!” She did the Chinese sign for kissing. I laughed, and pressed my finger to hers. “Muah!” she said, as if our fingers were kissing. She thought this was hilarious.
Yesterday, Lily told me that she is Hanguo, or Korean. She also has four siblings and her Korean name is Lia Leo, which I think is fitting for her because it’s a pretty name. I actually have a few Korean students and a couple Japanese students; not all of them are Chinese. I can’t believe I just discovered this.
Anyway…. Kelly later told the students that we’re leaving next week, and Lily bolted into my arms, nearly in tears. I almost started crying as I hugged her close. She pulled away and literally covered my face in kisses: she kissed my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, my ear, my chin, my lips. Jack joined in and kissed my cheek multiple times; even Tiana and Stephen kissed my cheeks.
“No Meiguo,” Lily said, a distraught look on her sweet face.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling her close again.
“I don’t want you go home,” Jack said, pouting. “I don’t want you be Meiguo ren; you be Zhongguo ren.”
Over these past four months, I’ve become akin to a hero to these beautiful children; I’ve become a beloved mentor—this past week has proved that I was successful in earning their respect instead of having them fear me, for which I am grateful. They adore me, and I them. They’re like my children, for they are eternally in my heart. My experience in China has been unbelievably incredible overall, but the greatest thing, the aspect of it that has affected me the most and will remain with me the longest is my relationship with my students—is my students, my kids, my munchkins. They were and are the focal point of my experience here in China. Sure, there were times where I resented teaching and I had bad teaching days and sometimes the kids drove me mad and my vacations were welcome outlets, but if I had the choice of visiting the Great Wall and all the wonders of China or spending time with 36 crazy, adorable, loving Asian children, I’d indefinitely pick the latter.
If I get the chance to visit China again, I would rather revisit my students than revisit the Great Wall (the Great Wall was my favorite thing that I’ve seen in China, locational-ly/historically speaking).
I cannot comprehend never seeing these students again. I pray that I will someday, sooner rather than later—someday, nonetheless. I want to know how their lives pan out, what they accomplish, who they become.
They’re my best friends, my angels. I love them and already miss them. Writing this has been incredibly difficult, and I’ve shed more than one tear in the process. I anticipate tomorrow for the chance to see my kids again, though I am not prepared to say goodbye, as it will be my last day of teaching.
I pray for their health, happiness, and that they will have bright futures. I am eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to be a part of their lives and to be able to serve them by teaching them English, a skill that will undoubtedly open doors for them in the future, and by being a positive, supportive influence in their lives. The Chinese may not have the Gospel of Christ, but they are truly beloved and beautiful children of Heavenly Father.
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