Year One: Fresh off the Boat

I still didn’t really know what that entailed, even as I stepped off the plane and into my new position as Foreign Expert at Starsplendor School of English. A Training Centre, for the uninitiated, is an extracurricular language school which operates outside of regular school hours. 6-8pm on weekdays, 8am-6pm on the weekend; all day, every day during the summer. At Starsplendor, I found myself working Wednesday – Sunday (with Mondays and Tuesdays off), teaching around 18 hours a week. Each class would be 40 minutes long, with a class size of between 15-80 (!) students. Being young, naïve and new to the industry, I had no idea whether these practices were standard or not (they are not) but threw myself into the job regardless. Even as the summer hit and my workload increased exponentially (teaching anything up to 12 hours a day), I had a blast in my first teaching position.

For my second year in China, I decided to seek out a more regulated kind of school, with formal training and opportunities for career growth. I sought out the biggest name I could find in ESL, and quickly found a job working for EF Chengdu. Another franchise of training centres, this school would teach me the nuts-and-bolts of TEFL education. In addition to the training and career opportunities (I progressed to senior teacher within my first year), the workload was more stable, and the class sizes much smaller (no more than 15 per class). While training centres – certainly the big corporate ones – leave much to be desired in holiday time and wages, they provide excellent on-the-job tra

ining and consistent working hours. Still, after two years of prancing about to Baby Shark for the amusement of three-year-olds, I was left hankering for something more.

To Be, or Not to Be…

And so I sought out a middle school position in Shanghai, as grade 7 Literature Teacher. As a literature graduate and lifelong lover of reading, this would be my dream title. Additionally, I could expect a large pay bump, lowered ACH (actual teaching time), and summers off. Best of all – no more Baby Shark. Instead, I would be teaching one of my favourite stories of all time… William Shakespeare’s (abridged, graded) Hamlet!

Working as the grade 7 Literature Teacher, I currently teach sixteen classes per week (each 40 minutes long), with weekends off. Class sizes are larger than one can expect to find at most training centres – roughly 30 students per class – with a much higher emphasis on exams and test results.

I had some experience working with older children, but none of the students I had previously encountered in training centres could have prepared me for the level of English at an international school like this one. While there are still some who can barely string together a sentence, many are almost fluent; allowing me to have in-depth conversations on such wide and varied subjects as Full Metal Jacket and the John Wick franchise. “Excuse me,” I said to one particular student, who had been talking to his classmate through the entirety of my lesson. “Would you like to tell the rest of the class what you were gossiping about during your Literature lesson?” He blushed. “I was just telling him about this film I watched last night,” he said… “Friday the 13th Part Five.” As a horror fanatic myself, I didn’t have it in me to reprimand him any further.

With a higher degree of fluency also comes a rise in answering back and a greater accuracy in insulting the teacher. “Gay shirt!” shouted a student as I entered the classroom last week, wearing my brand new polo shirt, “gay purple shirt!”

A different kind of classroom requires a different kind of classroom management system, no longer relying on stickers or pretend money to reward my students for good behaviour. A class of thirty or so rowdy thirteen-year-olds is an intimidating prospect, and not for the faint of heart. Instead, incentives now include less homework on the weekends, or a movie lesson later during the term. Another advantage of teaching middle schoolers over language centre babies is that the former are usually more capable of caring about their grades than the latter. Some can’t be motivated, try as you might, but most can be persuaded to knuckle down when it comes to the crunch. Which is more than you can say for a class of overexcited six-year-olds who just want to watch Paw Patrol instead of their scheduled flashcard drill.

With school events such as mandatory exams, flag raising ceremonies and sports days a regular occurrence, there is also a higher likelihood of classes being cancelled, making the already low (compared to a training school) workload feel even lighter. Teaching in a middle school is far from an easy prospect, but it does have its distinct advantages.

… That is the Question

Having experienced both, I found myself missing some parts of one job while loving elements of the other. I miss the cuteness of a Training School audience – the lack of responsibility to only seeing them once a week, like some sort of language-teaching clown or ESL babysitter. On the other hand, I have enjoyed getting to know students that I see every day of the week – building real, lasting relationships, and enjoying the kids’ banter (even the off-colour stuff).

While working in a Training Centre was never going to be a long-term thing for me, those who thrive in the environment really thrive, with plenty of opportunities to rise through the ranks fairly quickly. For those who just want to teach – and not just ESL – the international school is the place to be; allowing for such a range of subjects as literature, science, geography, art and PE. It’s a rewarding feeling – seeing one’s students respond to something like Hamlet, watching them tackle the material and form their own opinions on one of my favourite stories. Which is more than I can say for dancing to Baby Shark.

Training Centre or Middle School? There are distinct pros and cons to both. Not least, the prospect of two months’ holiday during the summer break. Two months off work? No summer course? Getting to teach some of my favourite books and stories of all time? With benefits like those, you can insult me and my gay purple shirt all you like.

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Thankfully, there is more than enough to do within China. After all, travel is the reason most of us came here. Whether it’s the Avatar Mountains of Huangshizhai, or a big city like Shanghai or Beijing, there’s no shortage of options, catering to every kind of traveller imaginable. For maximum rest and relaxation, however, it has to be the beach. And when it comes to beach destinations, the obvious choice is Sanya, known as ‘the Hawaii of China’. 

For the uninitiated, Sanya is a small island off the coast of China, located in the Hainan province. Offering silky soft sand beaches and idyllic blue seas, it is the ideal beach destination for any traveller looking to unwind. More than that, visiting in late 2020, it’s like stepping back in time – all the way back to the halcyon days of 2019.

We’re all Going on a Summer Holiday

As is to be expected, travelling during this time of COVID is not without its challenges.  First of all, when researching the vacation, one has to make sure that the hotel you’re travelling to actually allows foreigners. Several friends and colleagues found, while on their travels, that their hotel of choice was not able to accept international visitors. Thankfully, this one is fairly easy to navigate, checking the small print of the booking service (Ctrip, in this case) and reading reviews on TripAdvisor and other review aggregates. 

Next up; the flight. As anticipated, checking in to fly is full of stringent airport checks. Not only did we have to display a green QR code to get into the airport, we were then required to sign up for and display a second code specific to our airline. Then, upon landing, we had to sign up for and download a third QR code for the Hainan region. None of which is too difficult, but be sure to leave plenty of time for check-in and queuing at the airport.

Naturally, the wearing of a mask is mandatory at all times – in taxis, in the airport and on the flight. Thankfully, it was only a 2-hour flight from Chengdu to Sanya. Nothing compared to the 12 hour journey I undertook in February, returning from my Spring Festival break to the UK – masked the whole time, on a hot, crowded plane. After that, a mere 2 hour flight felt like easy street. Or easy airways.

We’re Going Where the Sun Shines Brightly

Upon landing in Sanya, we took a taxi to our hotel in Haitang Bay (approximately 45 minutes from the airport) where we had booked a room at the Shangri-La Hotel, on one of the island’s quieter beaches. This 4-star hotel was much cheaper than its Western equivalents, giving great value for money. And, having checked into the hotel, it served as our own private bubble where one might forget that COVID-19 even exists.

Indeed, it felt like stepping into yesterday’s world as we lounged by the swimming pool unmasked, watching similarly unmasked families pass by without care. Unmasked! Unmasked children peeing in the bushes; unmasked old folk hawking and spitting on the concourse; it was as though COVID-19 had never happened. It was only when we went for a meal at the hotel restaurant that some semblance of our new reality snuck back in; being required to mask up upon entering, and when perusing the buffet’s delights. Or on the occasional trip in and out of the hotel, when required to prove one’s health with a quick scan of the QR Code.

At a time when foreigners are no longer able to travel the world as easily as they once were, resorts like the Shangri-La see a rise in Western tourists, looking to get their beachside fix in lieu of Thailand, Vietnam or Cambodia. Swimming up to the pool bar to order a Pina Colada while surrounded by fellow tourists from America, the UK and Germany, I found myself forgetting that I was still in China, where I have been living for the past two years now. Even forgetting about COVID, a holiday in Sanya is closer to a vacation in Europe, or a beach destination in Egypt than any Chinese-style holiday I had previously undertaken. Not a temple in sight.

Which isn’t to say that Sanya doesn’t have its peculiarities that are local to China. Shallow, heated swimming pools; a large proportion of noodle, Durian and rice dishes at the buffet; being forbidden from swimming in the actual sea (for fear of drowning); strict height and weight limits on water slides and rollercoasters. Sanya is the traditional Western-style beach destination… only not. 

No More Worries?

Near our hotel was the Hotel Atlantis water park. At 500 RMB for a full day in the park, a steal. This too was open, and offering the full water park experience. Again, nothing was required to enter but a quick temperature check and a QR code. Inside, masks were non-existent amongst the patrons, and, drifting down the easy river in the baking midday sun, the pressures and worries of COVID were once again forgotten.

This did not come without its own peculiar sense of guilt. After all, who was I to enjoy a luxurious beach holiday like this, while my friends and loved ones face fear and uncertainty back home? As China – and other parts of the world – begin to reopen and move on from COVID, it’s hard not to feel guilty for returning to a state of normality, and allowing oneself these luxuries. Floating down the easy river on a glorious summer’s day, in the middle of a beautiful beach destination, I found myself longing for gloomy, grey, miserable Birmingham, England.

But these feelings inevitably pass, as will the worst of COVID, in time. And what better to take one’s mind off the pressures of the world than a water park? I padded from the lazy river exit down to the park’s biggest thrill attraction – a high-speed raft ride through and around a gigantic funnel. As I climbed the metal stairs to the entrance, the island of Sanya rose up around me, off into the horizon. At the top, the lifeguard looked me up and down. He shook his head. “No ride,” he said. “Too fat.”

Dejected, I slunk away. Yes, I thought, I am definitely still in China. 

Then, a smile. How I’ve missed this.

The post Sun, Sea and Sanya: Travels in China During COVID-19 appeared first on Teach English in China - Current TEFL / ESL Teaching Jobs.

While wages and rate of pay do vary from job to job and region to region, even a lower-paid teaching position leaves ample room to save money and lead a very comfortable life. My very first position, in an independent language school in Jinzhou, Liaoning Province, was not very well paid, but the cost of living was so low and I had such benefits that I still earned a tidy sum within a year’s contract. Enough for a month’s holiday in Thailand once my first contract was completed – unthinkable, on a comparable wage in the United Kingdom.

All Expenses Paid

Like many schools, I was provided with an apartment paid for by my school, and I was responsible only for the water, electricity and gas bills (all affordable). Even if this weren’t the case, rent in most areas of China is also very affordable, and there are extensive options available for all budgets. I currently pay around 4000rmb (roughly 450 pounds) per month for a large two-bedroom apartment in a nice district of Chengdu – over half the amount one would expect to pay for something comparable back home. Right now, I feel a world away (physically and mentally) from my first apartment back in Birmingham, England – a tiny, slug-infested (yes, slugs) one-bedroom studio where I nearly froze to death one fateful winter.

This leaves a lot of one’s paycheck for savings and consumables. My mind was blown when I bought my first can of beer for 3rmb – barely 30 pence in pound sterling. Likewise, one can eat for a king on 100rmb (about 10 pounds) a day. The cost of the average takeaway ranges from between 5 and 20rmb, depending on one’s location and taste. Of course, you could cook for yourself too, and fresh fruit and veg from the supermarket is also extremely affordable.

All this, paid for in a largely cashless society. Instead of cash and card, we use the phone apps WeChat and AliPay (connecting your bank card and passport to the app) to pay for purchases, to send and receive money. A quick scan of your QR code at the checkout, and you’re on your way. It’s a revolutionary system – easy even for us foreigners – and very quick to get the hang of.

Other travellers in Chengdu live similarly comfortable lives, and have little trouble finding their home comforts. From gym memberships to gaming (I myself am an avid PS4 fan), there’s something for everyone – and usually far more affordable than it would be back home. For those here to travel, that’s cheap too. Being on the other side of the world means that Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia are a lot closer than they otherwise might be, and airfares are much cheaper as a result. Or, at least, they would be if it weren’t for this pesky Coronavirus keeping us from leaving.

Saving Time

For myself, life in China represents an opportunity to build a savings account for the future and recoup debts from ten years working minimum wage in the UK. In addition to working full time at a Chengdu language school, China has also granted me the means of working extra with private students (1-1 lessons with diligent students in their spare time), and writing for ESL websites such as this one. In my time in China, I have also participated in voice recording jobs and have even been offered a position hosting a wine tasting evening! Putting aside the money, life in China is also good for bulking up one’s CV and trying out new things and potential career paths.

Sure, it could be made easier to transfer that money into my UK account (last time I tried, Bank of China would only transfer a measly 350rmb at a time), so I currently have to use PayPal, losing money in fees with every transfer. But for now, it gets the job done, and I feel comfortable and secure for first time in years.

All that, and the countless other opportunities for work and travel China has to offer. Money is certainly not the be-all and end-all, but it is another benefit of a career in ESL. Look ma, no slugs!

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This, after much to-ing and fro-ing with the local government for certificates and permits. It was agreed that we would be allowed to bring our students back into school by May 15^th. The plan was to be rolled out in several steps, starting with the older, higher-level classes before inviting kindergarten students to return on May 25^th.

Back to School

And so we lined up outside the school on Friday evening, waiting to greet our students upon their return. At the door, our security guard took temperatures, recorded students’ details and had everyone sanitize their hands before being permitted entry into the school. We were under strict instructions to wear our masks at all times, and ensure that the students wore theirs too. Any slip-ups (or offs), we were told, could result in the sudden revocation of our permit and the school being abruptly closed again. A box of spare masks was duly stashed away in every classroom. Bottles of hand sanitizer in every room in the school.

My own schedule for the weekend took in a Graduation Ceremony, the administering of a paper exam, and a demo class for younger students. A relatively light schedule of events compared to my usual workload, but a lot when stacked against the usual one or two 40-minute online classes per day I have become accustomed to.

I was eased in with the exam – one of my favourite classes, and all students who I had missed during our extended time apart. As per our school’s guidelines, I was in the classroom 10 minutes early, waiting as the students were brought in, one at a time, by the Teaching Assistant. As our classrooms are relatively small and the class size only 10 students, there was no need to have them sit further apart than usual, nor even any restrictions on high-fives or classroom realia. Just leave your mask on, and wash your hands.

“Hello!” I said excitedly, as I greeted them. “Long time no see! Did you miss me?”

The class emitted a collective shrug. One girl giggled. “Your face is so fat but your mask is so small.”

With a sigh, I did away with the reset of the pleasantries and got down to setting up my classroom management system, rejected and dejected. Business as usual, then.

After that, the Graduation Ceremony. It felt strange to be holding an achievement ceremony for a class I hadn’t seen in months (although I had been teaching them the material online); doubly so as the parents entered the classroom to observe. Teaching in front of the parents can be intimidating at the best of times, let alone when their faces are all covered by masks. Teaching while wearing one is a challenge also. The exam and Graduation Ceremony were tough enough, but how would I cope with my first demo class in over five months?

Not Well.

I quickly found myself suffocating beneath my mask as I presented my demo class to the parents and students in a hot, stuffy classroom. Sweat poured down my forehead and into my eyes. I blinked frantically, trying to restore my eyesight. I gasped, midway through the fifth verse of Super Simple Songs’ Heads, Shoulders, Knees & Toes and, for a moment, thought that I might faint.

There were five students, all aged between three and eight years old, most of them new to the English Training Centre classroom. As such, I was working overtime trying to hold their attention, and struggling through the wet, stifling mask. Not even ten minutes in, and I felt as though I was being waterboarded – and with my own sweat. How were the parents reacting? I couldn’t even tell because of the masks, which made it look as though I were being observed by a squad of bored Ninjas.

Somehow, I survived, staggering out of the demo room and into the kitchen, where I quickly downed a pint of ice cold water and shoved my face in front of a portable fan, on full blast. A half-hour demo class had almost killed me – I wondered how I could possibly survive the return of my kindergarten students, whose classes last for a full hour at a time. Hopefully we will have moved past masks by then, or I might not survive the experience.

But, as with everything so far, we take things one step at a time. Just like that, my first weekend back at work was over – another step towards relative normality. Nobody knows how long this tentative return will last – but we hope to see no resurgence from the virus; no return to lockdown. All we can do is our best, one step at a time.

But after all this time, however long it lasts, it’s good to be back in the classroom. It’s about time.

The post Back in the Classroom in China after COVID-19 appeared first on Teach English in China - Current TEFL / ESL Teaching Jobs.

This is true of countless other cities and provinces all over China – and even Wuhan, the epicentre of the Coronavirus outbreak has begun to ease its harsh lockdown measures. The threat, however, is far from gone. Travel outside of the city and one’s province remains restricted (unless you want to end up quarantined in a hotel room for 14 days) and local authorities remain on edge for a second wave of the outbreak.

There’s an App For That

Eager to monitor citizens’ movement and health, local governments have installed smartphone software within WeChat and Alipay. Either version of this software (or its regional counterpart) takes users to a short survey, where one enters a few details into the form. Have you been outside of China (or the province) in the last 14 days? Have you been into contact with anyone from the Hubei Province within that timescale? How are you feeling? Bit sick, maybe? After the survey has been completed, users will be issued with a coloured health code – green, yellow, or red. Anyone with a green code is healthy, and safe to travel. Yellow means that the user has likely come into contact with an infected person (and should be under quarantine). Red means that the user has coronavirus, and should get yourself under quarantine ASAP. Neither red or yellow is permitted to travel.

Ultimately, this quick and easy traffic light system dictates whether the user can leave their home… and where they can go. With a green health code, users are free to travel around the city as normal – entering subway stations, restaurants, shopping malls and (in the case of this ESL teacher) what few schools are open at the moment.

Chengdu being one of the least affected cities by the Coronavirus, its influence is felt less here than, say, Beijing or Shanghai. While one can expect to have their temperature taken in most shopping centres, restaurants and all subway stations, checking of the actual health code is not a constant. Our own school did need proof (screenshots) of its employees’ health status before opening, but beyond that, I have barely had to use my own code. But, as unrest grows, and the situation gets ever worse in the West, it is good to have this proof-of-health on my phone, just in case.

Red Code, Red Flags

The use of this health code based system by the government does beg some questions. Where, and by whom, is the collected data analysed? What else is this data being used for? How might a system like this be used and abused in future? Freedom loving Westerners are, naturally, skeptical.

But, right now, such a system is vital in making the country’s citizens and residents feel safe, and reassured that they are able to get out and mingle without fear of coming into contact with someone afflicted with the virus. Right now, these apps feel vital and necessary, not just in preventing further spread (or the return) of the virus, but in reassuring people that it is safe to go outside, to work, travel and have fun.

In the fight against COVID-19, these are unprecedented times, and unprecedented measures should surely follow. For some, this raises red flags, but right now these apps feel like the first steps in a return to normal, healthy life.

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I re-entered China to find almost everything in Chengdu locked down, and myself under advisory self-quarantine within my apartment. Sure, there were no armed guards at my door, but the security station at the compound entrance weren’t going to let me go anywhere for the next 14 days. All tourist spots, bars, restaurants and cinemas in the city were closed until further notice. Not long after my own return, I heard news that other friends and colleagues were being sent directly to quarantine in local hotels upon landing in Chengdu. Soon after that, it was announced that foreigners would no longer be allowed to enter China, visa or no visa.

Confined to my apartment with nothing to do but watch TV, teach online classes and get fat(ter), I began to wonder and worry whether this might be the new normal; whether things could ever be as they once were.

Baby Steps

Fast forward to May 2020. I have just attended the first pub quiz of the year, surrounded by friends, colleagues and locals. For all my worries, things did return to a state of normality, and far sooner than I had ever anticipated. All of my favourite bars, restaurants and shopping spots have now re-opened to the public. From the local hotpot joint to the Irish bar, Chengdu is once again humming with things to do and sights to see.

Thanks to temperature checks at the door and a newly-implemented health code system (via phone app), most local businesses are now free to run as normally. After proving my health at the door, I’m even free to go and get a haircut (while wearing a face mask, of course).

In recent weeks, the local football and badminton teams have also returned to the city; small groups of foreigners meeting once a week for practice and fun. Likewise, the neighbourhood gyms have all re-opened their doors, allowing the health conscious to get their fix (the home workout just isn’t the same!)

While my friends and family in the UK make do with homemade trivia sessions via Zoom (no thanks – reminds me too much of teaching online), we were able to join our local pub quiz at the American Barbecque joint down the street. After a lot of bumpy starts, tentative re-openings (and then re-closing again), all of our favourite bars and restaurants have reopened and are serving as usual. Social distancing has been dialled back for most, leaving patrons free to sit together and mingle in close proximity. Just make sure you have the QR code readily available on your phone to prove that you’re fit and healthy.

What we Left Behind

Still, we await the return of face-to-face classes in schools (while some Primary Schools have re-opened, most language centres such as mine remain shut), and there are rumours that kindergarten students may stay absent until September. Still, we head into school for admin hours and online classes, keeping up a facade of normality in this unprecedented time.

The cinema in China too, is yet to re-open. Even if it were to do so, it would have to without Black Widow or Mulan – delayed not only in China but also in the West.

Many tourist destinations too, remain closed, and a lot of hotspots (Chengdu’s QinQeng mountain, for example) is no longer allowing entry to foreigners. International flights in and out of Chengdu have been cancelled and, even if they were still running, I would no longer be able to re-enter if I did leave.

As tension grows back home and in the USA, I find myself worrying more for the well-being of friends and family over my own. The roles have reversed, and now China is heading out of danger as life in the West grows more and more chaotic.

In this respect, it feels something like living in a bubble, as I attend pub quizzes and eat hotpot while my family and friends stay home in fear, uncertainty and isolation. Although things aren’t yet as they were here, there’s a feeling that someday soon they will be. For now, Chengdu – and areas of China at large – has found its normality, albeit a new one. I hope that my friends and family can find their new normal too, whether that involves pub quizzes or not.

The post A New Normal – A Chinese City in Recovery Part II appeared first on Teach English in China - Current TEFL / ESL Teaching Jobs.

Netflix and chill

Thankfully, with a decent VPN, one finds access to the usual streaming and online rental sites to be fairly easy to come by. Neither Amazon Video or Netflix are made available to residents of China, but can be accessed given some motivation – giving audiences access to their regular streaming addictions from continent to continent. Additionally, such sites as Youku are a haven for English-language television and movies. It wasn’t just online content that I was worried about though. Would I still be able to keep up a regular movie-going schedule in theatres? Not speaking Chinese, I wouldn’t be able to see much of the local flavour, so I was reliant upon Hollywood output travelling overseas.

For the most part, I needn’t have worried. As one of the world’s major movie markets, China is more open to big Western releases than ever. Since moving to China, I have been kept abreast of most of the big releases, from Wonder Woman to The Great Wall, The Meg and the Avengers movies. Once one has mastered the WeChat booking system and self-service pick-up machines, it’s an easy enough process. Most Western releases come with their (usually) unaltered audio tracks, and unobtrusive Chinese subtitles for local audiences. Slightly more troublesome, however, is the hand of the sensor.

C*nsorsh*p in the M*ltipl*xes

While most major blockbusters find their way to the Chinese cinemas these days, it’s not unusual to see them censored to government tastes. My first experience of this was Logan, which had been heavily edited to cut out most of the more extreme violence. No wonder I had found the action sequences to be so choppy and confusing! Similarly, their cut of Alien: Covenant cut out most of the, uh, Alien, making it an Alien film with hardly any Alien in it. The kiss between two Michael Fassbenders certainly didn’t make it through intact either (although the line about “doing the fingering” did – a double-entendre not picked up on by the censors).

If only the script for Shane Black’s Predators had made it through intact – instead, Chinese audiences were treated to a bizarre alternative dub which replaced every single instance of the very sweary script (one character even has a severe case of tourettes) with PG-13 safe ‘damns’ and ‘darn it’. “Eat your pudding!” yells one character, in its most egregious example, to visible confusion by the audience.

Better that than the treatment Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood received, due to its (admittedly iffy) controversial depiction of Bruce Lee. Tarantino refused the option to edit the scene out, and so the film was summarily withdrawn from release.

We’re in the Endgame Now

By and large though, the local multiplexes are a great way of keeping up with the latest Hollywood releases. As Hollywood does more and more to cater for Chinese audiences, all of the high-profile stuff tends to make it here sooner or later. Sometimes a lot sooner – in the case of Avengers: Endgame, Spider-Man: Far From Home and Captain Marvel, these films were released earlier in China than they were in the West – by a margin of hours or even actual days.

The atmosphere of the Chinese movie theatre may take some getting used to though – as audiences don’t share the same taboos regarding mobile phones or loud conversation. It can be frustrating, trying to follow a film when the guy in front of you is scrolling through WeChat at full brightness, or a group of friends are loudly chatting in the row behind. During Wonder Woman’s iconic ‘No Man’s Land’s sequence, the entire front row stood up and started recording the action on their mobile phones. Another particularly irritating experience was during Kong: Skull Island, when one nearby audience member stood up to record the helicopter attack, then sat watching and replaying the video on his phone during the quieter dialogue sequences.

This is all part and parcel of the movie theatre experience though – cinemas have their misbehaving audiences, all around the world – and I’d rather risk a bad one than miss out on the latest blockbusters.

As one of the largest consumer markets in the world, China is more open than ever to Western cinema, meaning that movie fans needn’t worry about missing out on all of the thrills, spills and home comforts that a night at the pictures has to offer.

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It’s a surreal experience, seeing the rest of the world enter a state of lockdown and self-quarantine, just as China begins to dial back its own government-imposed measures. As the epicentre of the Coronavirus outbreak, China was the first country to effectively shut itself down, closing schools, shopping malls and workplaces everywhere in an effort to reduce the virus’s spread. As a Westerner, I had no idea what to expect, no real experience of self-quarantine or isolation. Before this, I’d never even worn a mask outside.

Everybody Hurts

Being situated in Chengdu, Sichuan province, we were one of the least affected by the outbreak, as the city’s exposure to the virus was minimal, and barely spread from there. As a precautionary measure, myself and my colleagues were confined to our homes as the schools closed, while online teaching was quickly rolled out. Returning from winter holiday in the UK, I flew back into Chengdu directly, via the worst flight I have ever experienced. Accidentally dropping a chunk of in-flight Tikka Massala into my mask, I spent the whole time with tears in my eyes and curry up my nose.

Upon returning to Chengdu, I was put under 14 day self-quarantine in my apartment complex – leaving only to collect food deliveries from the front gate. No curry though, I’d had quite enough of that.

The lonely, dull days passed slowly (averaging about three movies a day, several seasons of different TV shows, a LEGO Batmobile and a lot of online classes), and outside, time passed too. As the infection rate of the virus’s spread slowed, gradually Chengdu began to return to life.

The End of the World as we Know It?

At first, there were shortages of meat, fresh fruit and vegetables, but there was no sign of any real panic buying – supplies of toilet paper were as bountiful as ever – and there was never any trouble in finding anything to eat or drink. The only problem I encountered was the feeling of isolation, loneliness and boredom. I longed to get outside again – especially as winter turned into spring and the days got brighter and warmer.

But these things pass, and so too, did the harshest aspects of lockdown, and now, while things are still far from ‘normal’, the streets are once again alive with the hustle-bustle of daily life in Chengdu. Traffic jams at rush hour; busy, loud supermarkets; restaurants packed with cheerful patrons; beer flowing at a number of the local bars.

While the Metro system is far quieter than it once was, it now runs back on schedule. The motorways have returned to a healthy (although not for the environment) ebb and flow of steady traffic, and taxis and DiDis run as they ever did (with some drivers taking the added precaution of taping off their side of the car, covering it with plastic). Even the local shopping district seems to have returned to relative normality, as the people emerge from shelter and fall back into their old habits and hobbies. All at a safe distance, mind.

One can expect to have their temperature taken before being allowed into the supermarket, bar or shopping mall (or in Chengdu’s case, shopping district) and everyone outside wears a mask. The schools remain shut, but teachers here face a full schedule of online classes, or make instructional videos to be shared online. The Meituan delivery guy has to wait outside the apartment complex, but our cleaner is allowed in.

In small groups, we congregate at the local bars that have been allowed to re-open (dictated by government guidelines on party numbers and distancing between tables), enjoying a familiar social atmosphere, unimpeded by recent events and fears. But that doesn’t mean that they’re gone, or that the threat has passed entirely…

…But I Feel Fine

It’s still unclear when – if ever – things will get back to as they once were. There’s no set date for our return to the classroom, and masks and temperature checks are still mandatory. There are even rumours of the airports closing down business for international travel. But for the people living here in Chengdu, there is a sense that the worst of the Coronavirus is behind us – that the brunt of it has been weathered.

In that respect, it is difficult to see many people from my home in the UK and the West ignore the advice of health professionals – heading out for a night on the town or venturing into busy shopping malls to spread and pick up germs from all over the place. Without ‘social distancing’ and self-quarantine, there’s the feeling that the situation here could have been a whole lot worse.

Whether China and the rest of the world will ever be what it once was remains to be seen. That much depends on how the rest of the world weathers the oncoming storm. It’s a painful situation, to see things getting better here, but facing uncertainty and worry as to how things will fare at home. I remain cautiously optimistic – but only if we can stop fighting over toilet paper and pasta first. Do you want Mad Max? This is exactly how we get Mad Max.

The post Streets in Remission: A Chinese City in Recovery appeared first on Teach English in China - Current TEFL / ESL Teaching Jobs.

We’re going to have to move online.

Fear Dot Com

And so it was with great dread that I downloaded Zoom’s online video conferencing software, and logged in for the first time. Within a week, I was back to a familiar, almost full, schedule of classes. Although the structure of the lessons seemed easier, and there would be less students than normal, I was apprehensive. Self-conscious of my stupid face and voice, and worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold my class’s attention without the usual array of high-fives, stickers and toys at my disposal.

The important thing to remember is that this is still a classroom, and to instill that sense of routine to one’s students wherever you can. Classroom management is still possible – even substituting the usual rewards with mere pictures of Ultraman and Elsa works!

Zoom has plenty of options to make your lesson engaging. The screen sharing option allows the teacher to share the contents of their desktop with the class – web browser, media player; the full works. Just remember to close any NSFW tabs, clear your browsing history and hide your naughtiest favourites before opening up Chrome for all the class to see.

Zoom also allows students to control the mouse, interact with the screen and draw/write using the ‘annotate’ function (remember to turn it off when you don’t want the students to play, unless you want toddlers scribbling all over your PPT the whole time). It’s also easy to allow for student-to-student interaction: “Dora, can you ask Rose what colour she likes?”

Students becoming distracted and hyperactive? Share a nice and active (but educational!) video to let the kids blow off steam. TPR remains essential, especially in refocusing. Zoom also comes with a nifty ‘green screen’ function which adds graphics to the background – while alternative programs such as Manycam take that to a whole other level, including filters and funky special effects. Hey look, the teacher’s in space!

After a few days of practice, I was soon able to do everything in the virtual classroom that I would in a face-to-face environment. Panic over, right? …Right?!

A Walk in the Park

As I was quick to discover, online teaching is not without its challenges.  Smaller students are going to find it difficult continuously focusing on a screen (unless your name happens to be Ryder and the rest of the class a team of pups) so it’s worth remembering that certain classes are going to be a struggle. There’s not much you can do when Mom is chasing little Aiden around the house with an iPad, begging him to listen.

The omnipresence of parents in the background makes every class feel like an Open Lesson. Consider adding a ‘Be quiet Mom and Dad’ rule, especially for those who keep prompting the kids and acting like an unwarranted TA. And a ‘no snacking’ rule, for students who want to spend the whole class munching on a bag of potato chips. It can also be distracting for everyone when one of the students is taking the class from outside, in the back garden or park.

As with any delivery system, there will inevitably be advantages and disadvantages. It was nice to see my favourite students again, after my prolonged absence from the classroom, and some – trained by years of cartoons and TV – actually became more attentive during online classes.

What a Way to Make a Living

Working from home, it’s great being able to nip away to grab a cup of coffee between classes. It also means easier access to crazy realia (I thoroughly enjoyed introducing my new puppy to the students at the end of class), and not having to adhere to uniform from the waist down can make for a refreshing sense of freedom. At the same time, it’s difficult feeling one’s work/life boundaries erode, as the home becomes an office, and one is bombarded with WeChat calls and messages, even after the working day is done.

There’s a sense, for China at least, that the worst of the Coronavirus is behind us now, and one day self-quarantine and online teaching will be but a faintly surreal memory, of no-trousers-workdays, students in the park, and that one little girl who kept throwing her poor kitten in the air during class. It’s a new skill I learned, and a new chapter to the TEFL experience. Granted, it’s not one that I asked for, but it’s an experience all the same. And isn’t that why we’re all here anyway?

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