Teaching my Wednesday afternoon class, same as every week, about half an hour into things I notice dressed up adults looking in nervously at the door. They don't go away, so I send a student out to talk with them. Then the class monitor and study monitor jump up, and go out and talk to them. Long conversation, which I can't here and can't really follow. I remain (outwardly) calm, placid, tranquila, but I've had to stop class, right in the middle of my song cloze activity.
Here's my inner monologue for your enjoyment during this time when my exterior is calm, placid, tranquila. "I can't believe what is going on. In the States I'd be the one out talking with them. I hate just having to stand back and wait for something I don't understand to finish so I can figure out what to do. Doesn't someone know I teach in this room from 2:30 to 4:30 every Wednesday? Do I even exist anywhere that matters in the eyes of this school?" Then I remembered: Father is here with me. I mentally reached out and took His hand, remembering that He knows where I am even at that moment.
The class monitor comes back in. Tells me they have something important. The study monitor goes off to find another location for class. Room 308. OK. Upstairs we go. But we need a room with a computer, I usually have one and now my lesson is on power point. She goes back down to wherever she goes to negotiate.
The rest of us kind of mill around in the hallway, waiting on a resolution for everything. After about three minutes, another Chinese teacher comes over, and starts to talk to the kids. Again I must stand in the background and let the kids do the talking. I can understand most of the conversation, she's asking about what's going on and then just abruptly starting to tell them to reschedule class. But we can't reschedule class! I've already taught half of it, tomorrow won't work because of schedule conflicts with me and my class, and the study monitor is getting us a room right now!
Those ten minutes were a bad ten China minutes. The teacher didn't even acknowledge me at all or make an attempt to speak with me. I felt like a child, a hindrance, a liability, mute, and completely powerless and incompetent. Completely out of control. It was scary because for seven years in America, all my professional life, if a situation in the classroom arose, I handled it. I called the shots, went and asked the questions, corralled the kids, and got things done. I could no longer do that in this situation, and for someone with control issues as big as mine it was totally terrifying.
Finally, the study monitor came back with a key for a smart classroom, and we went inside. In the midst of this chaos I met the new Chinese Spanish teacher they just hired, and she then stayed and observed the rest of my class. I regathered my wits, re-started my class, and kept on doing what I know how to do.
I knew coming to China would increase my dependency, I just didn't expect it to be in the classroom and definitely not in as humbling a way as today. These small experiences of powerlessness and being disenfranchised really help me yearn to help those who cannot speak up for themselves, in the kind way my students must speak up for and help me in my moments of powerlessness.
