Another teacher gave me a pricing gun today. Then this happened.
Sometimes I worry that my maturity level isn't much higher than my third grade boys.
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Another teacher gave me a pricing gun today. Then this happened. Sometimes I worry that my maturity level isn't much higher than my third grade boys.
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The night before I left for a month long holiday in India, I had the weirdest night I've ever had in China, and quite possibly ever in my life. It all started when one of my third grade students (let's call him Billy) asked me to attend his birthday party. Adorable, right? I decide why not, especially when his tutor, Quinn, whom he also invited, is my friend and will come with me. Spending Friday night with all my students isn't normally my top choice of weekend festivities, but whatever. Free food, why not? The event was hosted at a fancy hotel, which is strange considering my student is turning 9 years old. We entered the hotel and peaked our heads into the buffet, looking to spot a group of 20 hyperactive kids being chaperoned by one or two parents. But then we're stopped by a giant poster of Billy's face. We let out a giggle. A little much? And where is everyone? But then, we see two more posters of Billy down the hallway, so we follow his giant face. Is that... a gangsta pose in a swim cap? Riiight. Anyway, the final poster leads us to a private room filled with over one hundred people. Our mouths drop as we enter and see the extravagance... a private room for a nine-year-olds birthday? There's a stage and everything... on the background of the stage are over one hundred balloons that spell out Billy's name (in Chinese). My students all scream when they see me and run over to sword fight me with balloon swords. I stick the swords in my armpit and let a few of them "kill" me until I look over to see what is making them balloons and my eyes fall on ... this.. thing. WHY WOULD ANYONE THINK THIS CLOWN IS APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN? Seriously, China, there's got to be better costumes than that. I'm both embarrassed by the fact that I'm 25 years old and desperately want a balloon animal and terrified by the clown, so I make my students get Quinn and I balloons. I get a good look at my kids - I have never seen my students out of their school uniform. One of the boys is sporting gold sparkle ugg boots. I decide I like them better in school uniform. Billy the birthday boy is dressed the best of all, in a way I can only describe as a circus ringleader. His hair also sparkles, which I assume is intentional, as all nine year old boys like sparkly hair. After the students lose interest in killing me with balloon swords, Quinn and I are pointed to one of the fifteen tables. Billy's classmates' bored older siblings and unpopular parents grimace when the waiguoren (foreigners) join them at the "outsider" table. Quinn and I are too absorbed by the table's contents to care. Cigarettes, alcohol, and expensive looking snacks pile on top of our table. I understand the reasoning behind the booze (and I silently thank Billy's mom for that one) but the cigarettes? Are those really appropriate? After the creepy ass clown, anything is possible at this birthday party. And we soon find that out when the MC (yes, an MC) introduces a group of senior citizens in costume on stage and they begin dancing in sync on stage. One sympathetic parent translates for me that it's a Korean dance troupe. I totally get it. What kid wants to be the only one who didn't get a senior citizen Korean dance troupe at their party? The MC then passes the microphone to various people who begin singing long, boring love ballads in Chinese. Quinn and I groan; KTV (karaoke) is a popular pastime in China. Chinese people like to pretend they're very humble and singing KTV on stage is one way they can brag without seeming like they're bragging. After a few songs and some strange looks from parents after we down all the free alcohol on the table, the MC begins throwing gifts into the audience. My students and their parents all stand up and try to snag the gifts. The children fight each other for the stuffed animals and toy train sets, which I expect. I see them everyday in class and know how greedy and selfish 9 year olds can be. But when I see the parents yank the toys from their peers' hands, I get a shock. At this point, the MC has thrown around 30 presents into the audience, and I estimate they cost 5 US$ each on average. One of the parents at our table begins to talk to my friend. "How is my daughter doing in your class?" He asks her, not realizing that Quinn has never met his daughter. He is convinced for a solid twenty minutes that Quinn is me, even though I have spoken to this particular parent at least twice a month for the past semester. Guess all us white people look the same to Chinese people. Finally the food comes out. It's overly fancy - shrimp, lobster, and weird stuff you'd only see at five star restaurants. I think back to my 3rd grade birthday parties where we got a slice or two of Little Caesar's pizza, and maybe a make-your-own-sundae bar if the kids parents were REALLY nice. We try some dishes, but many of them are too weird for my liking. Then the turtle comes. Yep, that's turtle. And yep, I ate some of it. It's squishy tasting and looks like brains. Appetizing, eh? After cleansing my pallate of turtle, Billy's mom has us cheer to Billy and sing Happy Birthday to him. I clink wineglasses with Quinn, and also with the parent who is convinced Quinn as me and lift my glass to drink but someone yells my name. "Miss Robin!" One of my students cries out, sitting on his mom's lap. He is holding a glass filled with wine and we tap glasses. He drinks the entire glass without flinching. Seriously, I drank alcohol with my third graders. After eating turtle. WHERE AM I. I turn back to Billy, who is cutting his elaborate wedding cake turned birthday cake. They throw so many more presents out I lose count. I can safely say without exaggerating that throughout the night, at least one hundred (5$) presents were thrown into the audience. And Quinn and I received none, even though the MC threw some at us. Greedy parents in front of us had about three presents each. I wanted my free toy train set, damnit. Quinn and I feel awkward, amused, and by this point, quite drunk. Everyone begs us to sing KTV for Jimmy - what better than to get our token white guests up to sing? Despite our claims to be terrible singers, we are forced to go up. They want a Mariah or Celine love ballad, but we settle on Happy Birthday. Some of my students go up and sing KTV as well, and some even come up and play the piano on the piano that has magically appeared on stage. Again, they're playing the "humbly bragging" card the Chinese love to play. The entertainment continues with the creepy clown coming on stage and dancing to Ricky Martin while doing magic. Then they have a squat competition. I'm not even shocked because at this point, nothing can shock me. I sit back and wait for more weird shit, but instead, Billy's mom shoves a gift bag filled with raamen noodles in my hands and pushes us and the rest of the 100+ guests out of the door. Weirdest. Night. EVER.
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