Musings
I've been a lazy ass for the past week, on account of being sickly + losing what little projecting power my voice happens to have [people who've been in Theatre/debate/extemp with me can attest to the feeble projection power]. This has given me a lot of time to think - about everything that's happened so far in Beijing, how I feel about it, how I intend to make an impact while I'm here, and what I expect to carry away from the experience for the long term.
*insert hippie wisdom*
"Dude, man, that's heavy. Gravid with responsibility and obligation. Gravity's always bringing us down, man, why do have to bring up that shit? Ew."
... But seriously.
What's happened so far:
You've read about it. I've Facebooked and Blogspotted the hell out of it.
How I feel about it:
Weary, a little bit disgusting, sort of stupid/ignorant. Not quite up to the point where I can take on a Marine bare-handed or in a katana battle to the death, but getting there.
How I intend to make an impact while I'm here:
Aaaaaaaaaand we get to the point of this entry.
A few nights ago, before I headed to Lush and after I got finished with one of the tutoring sessions for the Little Ones + Medium Ones (4-year-olds and 11-year-olds), I decided to walk down one of the few remaining hutong out by Tsinghua University and the Wudaokou Chaoshifa supermarket.
Most of the hutong around here are really... Gosh, I don't know how to adequately explain it. A "hutong" is an old, winding alleyway with houses, shops, and street vendors... but that doesn't explain it, either. Picture a dirty, conglomeration of EVERYTHING: foods, goods, people, beds, fires, puppies, livestock, human refuse, garbage, anything you can think of, crammed onto a street. That's... sort of?... a hutong. Just know there's a lot of activity, it usually smells kind of nasty, and there are many things to see, all at once.
One of the things I saw that night was a kid (about five years old) accompanied by his pet Chow Chow, poking in a mud puddle and wearing a tattered Stanford sweatshirt.
*BAM* Punch in the stomach.
An ancient-looking woman was about ten feet away, watching the little boy out of the corner of her eye to ensure that he wouldn't do anything potentially dangerous or disgusting; at first, I thought she might have been his grandmother, because of the whole toothless-and-wrinkled thing, but nope. Mother. Street vendor. Selling meat dumplings for 0.7 yuan each. Probably ends up making around 10 yuan profit for the entire night, if she's lucky.
Behind the meat dumpling stand was a dark little room, a few blankets on the floor; I assume that's where she, the kid's father, and the little boy sleep at night. No bathroom, looked like no electricty. Public toilet nearby - horrible stench.
What was I thinking?
I want that child to have the opportunity to go to Stanford, instead of just wearing the sweatshirt with the English word. He, his family - they probably don't even know what "Stanford" means. But I want that child to be able to go to university, in China or in the United States - wherever he wants. If he DOESN'T want to go to university, that's fine, but I want him to have the option. I want him to be able to walk into a library, have internet access, be able to find out what's happening in the world, in a language he can understand, and make enlightened decisions based on the knowledge he gleans.
... bah.
DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.
I'm not an idealist, normally, I don't have stupid pipe dreams about leaping class statuses / hopping rungs on the social ladder, especially not a in single generation. But I *do* have certain expectations about education, and believe that it should be both equal and universal.
... Dammit.
Okay, so that was a stupid thing to write, and you're shaking your head and laughing and saying "Oh, that Paige. Let's click 'like' on her Facebook status and tell her that she's worrying her pretty little head about things she can't change." or something. Please don't.
The fact of the matter is: The kids I'm teaching right now come from wealthy families, and will almost defnitely have a decent job when they graduate. They will all, most likely, go to university. They have good names, and good social connections; they will know the ins and outs of Chinese society and politics, and they will succeed. They will bear more children, similar to themselves, who will also have English tutors/teachers, and who will continue with the same sort of tradition. They will have cars. They will have nice business offices. Wear suits. Whatevs. Their parents will be proud, taken care of as they age, and die content in the knowledge that their kids are mostly good people. Most likely, their biggest concern will be some sort of gaffe five years ago that embarrassed them socially.
... This kid? And his parents? Well, they probably won't.
Is that sad? Oh, incredibly. So how can I change that? Why is that a bad thing? Should I even be contemplating changing it? Would it matter if I did? Would his parents be offended, if I tried to give their son an opportunity at a supposedly "better" life? Would it just instill discontent with his circumstances if I did, and thus be a failure rather than something productive?
Grr.
... Just, grr.
...
And yes, I bought a hell of a lot of meat dumplings.
<3
(Love you all, and miss you lots. As always.)
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