Saying Goodbye

Peace Corps, teaching

The rain came, and it seemed nonstop for an entire month. Streets flooded, water rushed under bridges, and still the rain fell. July 2018 brought floods to areas of the Sichuan province, drenching my final days in China. With mixed emotions, I looked out the window of my 15th floor apartment and sighed. From atop my balcony, with coffee cup in hand, it all seemed unreal–the rain, the past two years, and what might come next.

The view from my apartment in Mianyang on July 2, 2018

Somehow, I had managed to muddle through, and yes, even thrive for the previous two years in southwestern China. Depression–a familiar companion in my life–and frustrations about living in China, mixed with gratitude for teaching and the good I experienced yanked me in circles.

A long to-do list scribbled on scrap paper sat beside me. The rain had dampened my already waning motivation to do anything outside my apartment, but this was a list mostly consisting of the important tasks necessary to close out my time in China and move out of the country.

Grade final exams; turn in final grades; deep clean apartment; close bank account; fill out Peace Corps paperwork; plan and purchase tickets to travel from China; pack and ship boxes to the US; pack suitcases; and downsize unnecessary items. These were among a larger list of tasks I completed in the final days.

I had already said goodbye to my students in class. On our final class days we had posed for photos, quite haphazardly, and I though exhausted, enjoyed the chaos. One class of sophomores had each written me a note on a postcard. “You’re my best teacher,” wrote a student whose spoken English was minimal nonetheless had progressed and shown enthusiasm for learning. Each note was personalized, composed with thought from that student.

Two students in their third year who had both been involved in the English Corner previously asked if they could cook Sichuan hot pot for me. They showed up to my apartment with bags of fresh meat and vegetables and began chopping away as we talked about life. Soon the apartment was filled our chatter met with the aroma of Sichuan spices and the food boiling in the pot.

A larger farewell event had already taken place, in which a hundred students of mine and my Peace Corps sitemate showed up. The evening was a dizzying event that included speeches and so many posed photos I felt like I was at a movie premier. Each goodbye was important, though I much preferred the smaller slower ones.

As I finished my coffee on that rain-drenched day, I savored the memories. From the first day when I felt clueless and terrified as did my students, right up until the last day when we realized how far we had come. I eventually finished my to-do list, the rain stopped, and my students and I moved on taking the memories with us. As Caroline, one of the students who cooked hot pot succinctly wrote in the photo album she gave me, “The photos end, but the memories last forever.”

You Are Not Alone: A Story of Friendship and Hope

Peace Corps, story
Administration building on the Mianyang Teachers’ College campus.

This building haunts me. Its imposing architecture and location rend it as the focal point across the sparse college campus at Mianyang Teachers’ College. Long gray buildings no more than 10 years old with paint already cracked span the wide roads. Small trees still growing line the road leading toward it from the main gate. Inside are administrative offices for different departments as well as the school’s Communist Party office.

But that’s not why I’m haunted.

It was the beginning of the fall semester in 2017. A new school year, new routines, incoming students, returning students, new friends, old friends, new classes, same campus. After summer break, the campus again teems with life in the days before classes begin as students return from home.

One of them, sadly, decided to end her life.

She threw herself off the 9th floor of the administration building, the tallest building on campus. It happened one night, and by the next morning everything functioned as normal so much that I had no idea of her death. She had been an English major, though not one of my students. After failing a class, she was being held back to repeat her entire freshman year. In China, students move through their years in blocks, so their days are spent going to different classes with the same group of students throughout their schooling. The pressure to excel and succeed are enormous in this country with over 1.4 billion people.

I can’t recall ever meeting her, but I felt heartbreak anyway. Even a few students said, “No one really knew her.” I don’t think that’s true–they were 8 students to a room in their dormitories and 40 students in her class block–but I wonder who knew of the pain she experienced? Who noticed her, reached out to her?

Day after day I entered this building. I looked to the 9th floor, and I took a deep breath. I wanted to reach out to her and say, “You are not alone!”

Administration building on the Mianyang Teachers’ College campus.

At the time, the school did not permit us to discuss what happened and the Peace Corps advised us not to push anything. I did not tell this story publicly until I had closed my service and left China.

In the Spring Semester a few of my sophomores touched on the subject of suicide in a surprising and moving way in their final video project (see this post about the semester final). Suicide is unfortunately not uncommon in China, though it is a difficult subject to talk about. Whether or not they intended to reference what happened the previous semester, their film project was an important voice in the discussion and suicide prevention.

Their story was simple, yet layered with complexity: One of them, Minnie, falls into depression after a bad break-up with her boyfriend. Her friends, Sherry and Vivian, comfort and support her; however, one day Minnie decides she can’t continue, sends a cryptic text, and is ready to jump off a building. Sherry and Vivian come to her, pull her away, hold her, and support her. They say they are ready to jump together with her. Minnie says “No” and chooses to live. A montage of them watching movies, going shopping, and enjoying out door activities slowly changes Minnie’s depressed catatonic face into one that reflects joy.

Minnie says, “My girls, thanks for being here, comforting and encouraging me, accompanying me though hard times, and you are always my precious possessions, thank you, two girls.”

The bad things passed and they will live a new life, a better life together.

I’m still haunted by that building, but I have hope for me and for us all: we are not alone. There is love, there is joy in this world, and I want to thank my students for telling their story of despair, love, hope, and new life.

If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, you are not alone. There is help.

In the US call the National Suicide Lifeline 1-800-273-8255 (available 24/7).

In China, call the Beijing Suicide Research and Prevention Center 010-8295-1332 (available 24/7), or Lifeline China 400-821-1215 (10am-10pm).

My students, at the end of their film.

Semester of Storytelling

Peace Corps, story, teaching

In the Spring Semester of 2018 at 绵阳师范学院 (Mianyang Teachers’ College), I explored storytelling with my Sophomore classes. I guided them each week through the basics of the hero’s journey, genre, and sequencing toward a final group project. The project was to form a story, write the dialogue, and finally film themselves performing their story.

Grading the final project was a huge undertaking for me, as I taught 4 Sophomore classes–with around 40 students each–which when divided up into groups, I still had 40 videos to watch and grade.

It was worth it.

The end result was amazing, a testament to their capabilities and creativity. I asked the short films be 3-5 minutes in length, each person in the group needed to say something, and they were required to submit a written dialogue with the video. Some groups went above and beyond what I expected, utilizing the campus, classrooms, their dorm rooms, even nearby housing–one group even asked my permission to make a longer video that ended up being over 12 minutes, an adaptation of a famous legend complete with costumes filmed at at local Buddhist temple, and included credits with outtakes. Several other groups adapted Chinese legends, there were stories of love and jealousy, one group altered the ending of Romeo and Juliet, while some groups did variations of ghost/vampire/zombie stories. Many groups included their dialogue as subtitles. One group showed two friends supporting another who had become depressed and wanted to commit suicide. This one was poignant because there had been a suicide on campus the previous semester, which had been quickly hushed by the administration.

Here are screenshots from some of videos.

Before writing dialogues, we explored examples of genres and movie plots and they selected what type of story they wanted to tell then mapped the basic sequence of events. Below is the work from a group whose story was about a ghost that haunted a bathroom because she needed help solving her murder. Solid original work and excellent make-up in the video as well.

group work sequencing their story
Group work using graphic organizers to create their story.

I also included in-class storytelling when students came up with a story on their own modeling the hero’s journey. This young woman enthusiastically raised her hand to share, not hesitating to use the blackboard to illustrate her story.

A student telling a heroic journey she wrote in class

Two years have since passed, and this semester with the films I have kept, remains one of the lasting memories of my time teaching in China.

Blog resumes


Several drafts and ideas for posts have sat unfinished over the past year. Days, weeks, and months passed, with occasional attempts to start writing again; however, each time if I started at all, I found I lacked the concentration to follow through. A few sentences here, a blank page there, an empty and scattered mind throughout. The absence was not only in sharing blog posts, but also in my personal journal writing as well. I hope now to finish those posts and resume writing.

This year, 2020, has been a wild ride. The United States is still in the midst of high rates of infection from the COVID-19 virus and I have been more or less staying home since early March. There is much to unpack here, and soon, in addition to catching up with stories from China, I hope to post a gallery of art painted on boarded up buildings in Seattle. Until then, here is one, a sign of the times.

“Stay Home. Stay Healthy.” Painted at Broadway and E Pike, Seattle, WA

And as always, I remain grateful for much in this life. Back in April there were signs put up in a local park and this one was one of my favorites.

The Bikes of Chengdu

Peace Corps

In the Spring of 2017 the dockless shared bike system fronted by Ofo made its way to the campus of Mianyang Teachers College in China’s Sichuan Province. The craze had spread across China’s larger cities, and to Sichuan’s capital Chengdu earlier. At the time my students expressed pride in this “great Chinese invention”–and then were confused when I explained China didn’t invent bike sharing, as it was used in the US for some years. What Chinese companies had done was improve, as it were, a system already in existence.

New Ofo bikes on Mianyang Teachers College campus, April 2017

The yellow bikes flooded the campus and were a great way for students to make their way from the main campus buildings to the front gate, 2km away. Yellow Ofos and silver and orange Mobikes also appeared around Mianyang city, with other companies stepping into the frenzy, too.

The concept relies on convenience: need a bike? Here’s a bike! It’s cheap and easy, use it and leave it wherever you are when you’re done. Yet problems in this system became apparent and only grew from there. My students, not used to questioning and critical thinking, missed the potential problems in their pitch to me, such as in order to keep costs down the company mass manufactured crappy bikes that broke down easily; someone has to be paid to keep the bikes repaired and in circulation in popular areas; and if people can, they will leave them anywhere–and I mean anywhere.

As it turns out, Ofo and the other bike share companies were not concerned with repairing bikes; they have left behind mass graves of misplaced, broken, and decaying bicycles throughout China. Furthermore, Ofo’s expansion to the world has now been retracted, with the company struggling to stay in business in China.

The number of bikes that littered the streets of Chengdu grew as if they reproduced like rabbits. By January 2018, the problems in their business model became glaring (to me), especially traveling through the central part of Chengdu. It’s as if they hadn’t thought–or cared–about how many people actually might use their product and the logistics involved in such an operation with so many bicycles, nor about the cost to the environment.

When I gazed in awe at their mass numbers, I realized this was a recurring pattern in how Chinese do business. Locally, at least, small businesses opened and closed all the time, sometimes with short lifespans. They had failed to do appropriate research on product, location, and target consumers.

Uncertain about the future of dockless bike sharing, below I posted a tribute to the bikes of Chengdu.


Peace Corps, travel

In the final days of my time in China (July 2018), I was able to take a quick trip to Beijing. I only had a few days, which left me quite rushed, though I made the best of it. Here are some photos.

What Beijing trip wouldn’t be complete without visiting Tiananmen square? The square itself is big and empty; one feels small standing out in the open, the large buildings at it’s borders seem far away. Tiananmen’s significance, however, cannot be understated. At it’s borders are the Forbidden City, National Museum, Great Hall of the People, and Mao’s mausoleum–all central monoliths of Beijing and China. Each of those places has it’s own security to get in and out of them as is normal across China, but what stands out is the strict security even to enter Tiananmen Square’s vast empty space. Foreigners must present their passports, Chinese their national ID. One must pass through a metal detector and place any bags through scanners. The police looked at my ID much in the way any security would, and then waved me through. As I walked on, a policewoman was flipping through a notebook of a Chinese woman who stood next to her– to enter Tiananmen, Chinese nationals are given more scrutiny.

As I walked around, I imagined the thousands of students who filled the space in 1989 and the chaos and blood that filled the streets after the government soldiers and tanks rolled through. The 1989 student protest and subsequent massacre is a forbidden topic within China. Had I breached and publicly talked about it when I lived and worked there, I could have been expelled from the country.

Here is a photo from exiled Chinese artist Ai Weiwei from a series called Study of Perspective in which he photographs a middle finger in front of many of the world’s significant landmarks.


From Ai Weiwei’s Study of Perspective, Tiananmen


Peace Corps, travel

Last week I wrote about the wonder I experienced when I visited the Tiger Leaping Gorge in the Yunnan Province last April. During that trip I also visited nearby Lijiang, though I had less than a day to spend there before I had to be back in Mianyang. Here are some photos from that quick late afternoon to morning jaunt through the old town.


Witness to Creation

Peace Corps, travel

The gorge is a magnificent sight. Jagged peaks rise straight from the ground below, a stunning contrast in front of the white clouds and blue sky. Formed  by techtonic plates pushing up rock and millenia of wear from water and wind, the sheer faces of the peaks are unparalleled. Deep in the valley below water flows over rock emitting a constant roar, while small homes like tiny specks are swallowed by the towering mountains above. One road cut by machinery into the side of the rocks offers human visitors a fantastic and terrifying route through the gorge.

Some years ago I read writings of naturalist John Muir. One quote that stuck with me:

“One learns that the world, though made, is yet being made. That this is still the morning of creation. That mountains, long conceived, are now being born, brought to light by the glaciers, channels traced for coming rivers, basins hollowed for lakes.”

I was reminded of this when I stood in front of Tiger Leaping Gorge (虎跳峡) in China’s Yunnan province this past April. The mountains formed over time are still being formed.

The two nights I spent at the gorge were among the most peaceful during the two years I lived in China. I hiked with a friend, our view of the gorge and conversations still rining in my ears though months have since passed.

“Do I have to go back to Mianyang?” I wrote at the time, referencing my home in Sichuan, and normal life of teaching. Every moment at the gorge I soaked up like a sponge, alive in the moment, yet anticipating the stress awaiting my return.

It is still the morning of creation–and for that I am ever grateful to be alive and witness to this ancient process.