It’s almost summer break

Finals are over! I'm also mostly done with the piles of grading. Our finals for the listening/speaking classes were interviews which are so fun. It's nice to get my students one-on-one. They are awfully lovable. I'm really ready for my 12 days of summer break though. The last few days have been cool with more monsoon rains. I can't decide if this is a blessing or not. I went out running one night around the school track and it started pouring. That was fine with me: It was hot and I like running in the rain until I realized that my eyes were stinging and burning so much that I almost couldn't see. I came home and Yvonne told me she wouldn't run in the rain because it's acid rain form the pollution. It is hard on your skin. That's really unfortunate.

I realize I never took a moment to describe the people I work with. We sit in a small room with ten large desks placed side to side. I've said a lot about Yvonne and Scott, but I sit next to a teacher named Andy. I don't know him very well because our schedules don't coincide often, but he is a pleasant person who offered his help if I ever needed it. He lives in our building. His girlfriend, Emily, lives with him and is taking the missionary lessons but not very seriously. I've called her up a couple of times to go to church with me, but she always said no. Both she and Andy speak good English. They come from wealthy families in Shanghai and both stand to inherit the business. They are here to just experience what it is like to have a real job and be a teacher. These people prize accomplishment above most things so to contribute to the world and be a teacher (a highly respected role here), is just a step on their path. Emily is fairly unhappy here. She was living in Australia and doesn't get along with the coarse/rude-but-friendly neighbors. She is perceived as being kind of stuck up.

Next to Andy in the office is Chuck, the computer guru. He is really nice and a lot of fun. He dresses like he is 20 but I think he is in his late thirties. His English is pretty limited but I've asked for help on more than one occasion. He will do anything for you if you have a computer question. His wife is an English teacher at the school. They met through gaming. Both of them are avid and advanced video game experts. He gave me a giant mango last week and I'm inclined to like him forever for it.

Across from him sits Julie, the assistant volleyball coach. She attended BYU-Hawaii and her English is very good. She is easy to be with and a good friend. Lots of personal integrity. I think she is thinking about a mission. Then we have Mike and Mark who share a desk because they are part time. Both of them work at different cram schools. They don't get along very well but they are nice enough people. Mark is Canadian and hard to get to know. I rarely see him. He is a permanent fixture with a family here and a good handle on Chinese. He is a member I think. Mike is British. He is quite a talker, too, but I like him. He has been in Asia for twenty years. He is quite a musician and has his own blues band. He always wears all black so the kids have a nickname for him: 007. Then there is Freddy. He also has a wealthy family from Shanghai but his parents sent him away to be raised by expensive boarding schools and in America. He joined the church, attended BYU and fell in love there with a girl from Taiwan when he was 19 and was married without his parents' consent. They cut him off from family support and so he works here and at two other cram schools to raise money from school and support his wife and toddler. He has a really good heart, as Mike says,--he is very kind and the kids love him. He is returning to BYU in August and so we have someone new.

Yesterday I went to Cijin Island with Michelle and Evangeline, two SAs who invited me along. It's about an hour and half and it was gray and humid which kind of put a sizable damper on things. It was really cool, though. We rode tandem bikes around the island, ate food, took a ferry, went to the former British consulate and walked up to the Kaohsiung lighthouse. It was really beautiful and this is a story that needs to be told in pictures, so I'll get those up as soon as I can. On the island there is an old fort that's a few hundred years old. Taiwan used to be a major strategy point for Asian and it has belonged to the Japanese, British, Chinese and others. The island is full of secret caves and passageways which in the thick tangled jungle look like a prime location for a ninja lair. The island has beautiful jungle and giant butterflies and moths. As the afternoon wore on, we went to the black-sand beach and stood with our feet in the waves. I could have stood there all day letting the water wash over and around my feet. My language barrier combined with the humidity stifled conversation, but it was a really good day. Living near the ocean is wonderful. I think if I could hear that wave-sound in my room, I would sleep with no problems.

That night I went home and continued my reading. I'm in 1 Nephi 17 now where Lehi's family reaches the ocean. It says they rejoiced exceedingly to get there. I wondered a little about that. Were they happy because this was their goal and they accomplished it? Did they think they had reached their promised land and they wouldn't have to travel anymore? Or is it just that the sight of the ocean is enough to fill a person with wonder? Maybe they were just glad they couldn't travel anymore even if they wanted to. I also think that their ocean voyage may have been a very different type of test than traveling on land. On land, obtaining food, traveling, could have seemed like their own efforts and endurance. Nephi saw that the Lord made them strong, used the Liahona to bring them to the most fertile parts, and helped them to be able to eat raw meat, etc., but nothing is like putting yourself in the hands of God like going out in a boat and the wide ocean. On the sea, they were steered by the Lord but there was little else they could do but sit and wait for a sight of land. In this period of idleness, the test was in how we wait, in how to be still and know God. Laman and Lemuel and company sunk into coarseness, drunkenness and "exceeding rudeness" which the reader can only imagine. This is a test for people--and for me. I don't think I have a big tendency to "exceeding rudeness" but how will I use this time by the seashore. My life is uncomplicated. It represents a rest but I must be making tools for the rest of my life which will be a ship of curious workmanship. Like I said before, I can't see the twists and turns of life or predict the future, but as time goes on, I'm going to have to counsel with the Lord about what comes next and I'm starting to realize that how we acquire language is something I need to understand. Maybe that's what I'll do when I get back. Keep studying. However, many of the tools I pick up here will not be 'professional' ones or even what I thought was practical. It's funny how having a real job changes what you thought was important.

Going to the temple and other thoughts and news

Last Saturday we went to the Taipei temple as a stake so I woke up at 3:30 AM and was gone until late that night. It had been rainy and the air conditioning on the bus was very cold. When I woke up on Sunday morning, I had a fever and a bad cold. I slept most of the day and Sister Huang brought me chicken and bamboo root soup. In fact, for most of this week, when I haven't been at school, the sickness combined with heat has had me sleeping most of the days. I've never had a cold in heat and humidity before. It's kind of like breathing Jello. That's probably too much information. Sorry. Monday, I hadn't had the energy to get up and walk to the store so I feasted on a mango the size of a football for two meals. I tried to finish it before it finished me. Finally I put the last bit of it in a blender with the rest of my milk. This was an inspired idea. It's mango season and I am enjoying it--cheap, wonderful tropical fruit. Another wonderful idea: Chop up a lot of watermelon and feed it into the blender with a little bit of sugar and ice--heaven.

You can see that even with my best intentions to live better, I still eat like a refugee--whatever I can get, whenever I can get it, eating in strange places with my fingers if necessary. My life won't always be like this, right? However, I'm doing better with my resolve to take better care of myself. Those last few semesters of school I had a hard time eating writing, taking time in the morning with myself, etc. I was clean, but not terribly healthy or alert. I bought a blow dryer and invested in hair products and I'm figuring this long hair-in-the-heat-and-humidity-thing it out. I'm also exercising and taking calcium according to Master Huang's suggestions. I'm also doing better at getting up in the morning. My goal is 5:30. I'm still working on it. I want to be a morning scripture reader, too, after years as a night-time reader. I think God talks to me best in the mornings. I wish I was like the boy-prophet Samuel and when I hear the whisperings of the Spirit in the morning, I want to be able to answer, "Speak Lord, thy servant heareth," but I think I'm far too likely to groan and roll over and go back to sleep. It helps that most of the people around me are early risers. That is the only time it is cool enough to go outside. I went up to the accounting office last week and found ever office worker with their heads down on their desk fast asleep in the midday heat. It is starting to get really miserable.

There is little rest for the weary: I have just 12 days after this semester ends on the 30th before I begin a summer semester writing class. They are first-year high school students which is a challenge because communicating directions and grading criteria is hit-and-miss at best. Any suggestions? I also have a lot of ideas I need to organize for next semester.

Some more about my students: I've talked about the system but less about the individual personalities that make up my classroom and brighten my life. I've told you about the system and the ideal studious pupil, but the fact of the matter is that kids are kids. There are many similarities between my American students and my Taiwanese students. They get tired, they watch the clock and can't wait to get home, getting them to write can be like pulling teeth, etc. My Thursday class is the worst. I tell them that to review for the final, they need to choose one of the units form the book and write a comic. So, of course, if they're doing "Asking for directions," their characters ask how do I get to hell? (Actually, I would have given bonus points if they had a quality answer for that one, but the answer was garbled English), They write about extra-marital affairs and drinking, (things they really haven't any experience with- - they are at school all the time and the school's rules are extremely strict: no dating, alcohol, etc.) We had another talk on what is appropriate in the classroom, what's appropriate to ask a foreigner. *Sigh*

They are really wonderful, though. I enjoy reading what they write. As a final writing assignment, one of my classes was given the topic of "What is your definition of a good student?" by their former teacher. I read their essays and they wrote pretty eloquently about the frustrations of parent and teacher expectations, they also discussed how grades were not enough and courtesy and being a good person are part of a real education (as per Confucius). A girl named Sony, the best writer in that class, wrote about how she disagreed with the system here (her mother is Brazilian). She said that instead of producing "good students" Taiwanese teachers and parents are more interested in producing "good little robot machines." She called on her fellow-students to dare to disagree with the teacher, to question, to make the classroom a dialogue. She is the only one of my students who does that and in that way, she is a student after my own heart.

One thing about my teaching philosophy that I think is kind of unique is that I think student hecklers are important to the life of the classroom. They make the other students wake up and watch the teacher and student interact. If you can get attention, oh, if you can get their attention, what can't you do! They make me wake up too and defend my teaching with a grin. I have a few students like this. Louis, for example, brightens my day. Even when he is slowing things down and giving me grief and I find myself saying, "You're killing me Louis, you're killing me!" I say it with a grin. It's the students who are disruptive among themselves but refuse to interact with me, give me non-responses and are sullen, who are a problem. Give me effort! Even if it's the effort to defy me! and life in the classroom gets so much better. Nothing is more smothering to teachers and students than apathy.

I've learned something, too, about balance in life. I find that play is essential to my work. If I don't get out and play on the weekends/evenings, my work suffers. I think I can work through a weekend but I can't. Even "resting" isn't very helpful. Only playing hard helps me in working hard. I tell myself that the last year in school I was doing what I had to, and I was, but I missed something important. I stopped taking classes that weren't related to my major, I stopped voice lessons and going to dances or doing theatre. I told myself I didn't have the time, energy or money for those things. Maybe this was true, but just vegging (sp?) in front of a movie or lying around when I was exhausted, didn't really help. Here, doing other things, working with my hands like taking calligraphy, is so relaxing. Something about- those characters is so calming when I'm stressed, so aesthetic. I can't be Ms. Powell 24/7. Sometimes I have to be just Erica.

Speaking of being just Erica, I'm acting younger and younger. I think part of it is the language. I can't express myself as an adult so I think I act like a kid. Jessica and I play with bubble guns and nearly get kicked out of calligraphy class because we're always chatting it up and playing around. A couple days ago I was spending hours grading papers in the office when my red pen broke all over my hand. I pretended like I'd sliced open my hand and stared at the dark red ooze on my fingers, then called for help. Steve, Director of International Affairs, stared, the phone receiver in his hand in mid conversation. Scott and Yvonne ran from both ends of the office in rescue mode. That's when I started cackling. It's nice to know you're loved.

I live from tender mercy to tender mercy. Aislin reminded me of Elder Holland talking about angels. I believe they are near me. I get to feeling down, feeling that a year is long or that life is getting away from me. There are times when it is hard not to envy extroverts. As an introvert, i pull into myself when I'm struggling. It's so much easier to avoid people. Being in a crowd of strangers is exhausting. It's a constant temptation to just hole up in my room or to seek comfort in a book, computer, etc. Luckily, I'm never allowed to be alone. There are people that elbow themselves into my life and keep me out among people. Tuesday was a hard day and then Wednesday dawned. I was tired and sick and discouraged. It was the dragon boat festival here.

The story goes like this. Once a Chinese ruler and a statesman and poet disagreed on their vision for their country. The poet wrote about it and the ruler was displeased with his poem. I'm sure there's more to it than this, but the poet threw himself into the river. This man was beloved by the people and so every year on the anniversary of his death they throw moon cakes into the river so the fish will eat the cakes and not the body of the poet. They also have row boats that are painted like dragons which they race. The paddles are supposed to scare away the fish. I don't know why this makes me smile.

Michelle Liang, a new convert, SA and progressing English speaker invited me to go. She is shy and sometimes avoids me because of the pressure of speaking in English to me, though her English is surprisingly good. I was starting to give up seeking her out because I felt like my presence was so painful to her. We took the metro to the Love River, each bank of which was covered with people. As we talked and wandered through the stalls of food and listened to the live bands and watched the boat races, I was filled with gratitude. As it began to get dark and as the dragon boats and the bridges started being lit up with colored lights, Michelle said, "You are lucky to be here. If you weren't here now, you would have to wait a year to see it." Those words, "You are lucky to be here" resonated with me. I was lucky. Lucky to be a part of life and things happening. Life wasn't passing me by because I was here. No one does pomp and night-time grandeur like Asians and the experience lifted my heart. At the end of the day, Michelle and I were fast friends and comfortable with each other. As I studied scriptures that night, I was so happy and my scripture study improved. I need people. I learned this lesson long ago, but needed reminded. Being a tourist, seeing beautiful things and having experiences is hollow without people in your life. People are life.

Speaking of which, how many temple workers does it take to get one foreigner through a session at the temple? The answer is at least ten. At first I was a little bothered to be such a hassle and a burden and it hurts my pride to be so lost and dependent (I know that in the ward Bishop Huang has been assigning people to get me more involved. I chafe a little at being an assignment for busy people) but by the end I was grateful. It's important to be humble enough to be a gracious burden, to let people serve you. Mom reminded me how the temple is about the individual. If not, we'd just read out five names during a baptism and dunk them all. Being in the temple and doing Chinese names was important for me. I felt close to them and started to see the gap get smaller between Them and Me. I also had a horrible time pronouncing their ancestor's names. I've never had that problem before. This was good for me. The Taipei temple is the cutest little temple, and it's full of the coolest dark inlaid furniture.

A Tribute to Fathers

Father's day is coming. My Grandpa Powell says it's prejudiced that missionaries can call home on Mother's Day but not on Father's Day. I'm glad I call this year from around the globe. Lately, things I've been reading and things that friends have shared with me, combined with the holiday, have been on my mind. Right now I feel like I owe a tribute to the important men in my life.

According to the Family Proclamation, gender is eternal. It goes beyond our physical selves, beyond the time or circumstances of birth. I think of Adam, the prototype man, who left paradise for Eve's sake and to be the protector and father of the human family. After the Savior and Joseph Smith, I think he must be the greatest hero in human history and a type of Christ. This proves that before there were cars or electronics or organized sports or cologne, there were men. While sports and other pursuits may be important to a man, it does not define who he is. In a world where ideals of manhood are associated with trash talking and physical prowess or other shallow elements, I think we must look to the Savior, in whose image every man was made. When Pilate introduced him to the crowd just before they crucified him, he announced, "Behold the man!" Truer words were never spoken and here is a man who could weep, a man who was gentle, a man of sacrifice and duty to God. Even in his anger, he exercised such great control as when he cleansed the temple, but careful not to hurt the doves being sold, handed the cages to their owners with a terse "Take these hence."

With this in mind, I can't understand how certain cultures represent manhood--fathers who never say I love you because it wouldn't be manly or somehow associating male-ness with being a jerk, acting like a tyrant, etc. Our own culture is at fault, too. As television sitcoms are filled with fathers who are characterized as buffoons for the wife and kids to practice their sarcasm on--the Homer Simpsons and others who tell the world that men are lazy and incapable, I don't buy it. I reject every suggestion I've ever heard that somehow you just can't expect much from guys. I don't think the Lord placed significant eternal responsibilities and power where he did not think it could be managed and magnified. Think of Joseph Smith! A man's man in so many ways of whom we sing "Praise to the man!" He was a man who could do household chores, think of others, laugh, play hard and work hard. I really think that if he, say, drove a minivan, that his masculinity would be intact.

And so I'm glad that my life is filled with a long long list of wonderful men: Father, brother-in-law, teachers, priesthood leaders, bishops (I'm so glad I can add Bishop Huang to that list), a mission president, prophets, apostles, and friends. I'm glad that in the church we recognize the sacrifice that women make to be mothers, to spend their time, energy and talents in being a homemaker, but I think that there is also an Adam-like sacrifice performed by fathers who give up some freedom to be providers. My brother-in-law, who studies fatherhood for a living, would say that it is 100% worth it. He could also give you better support than I for the fact that a father contributes far more than genetic material to his children.

I remember driving somewhere with my mom. I was a college freshman and was starting to appreciate life as I had known it. I said, "Thanks, Mom, for marrying Dad." She smiled smugly and said, "Yeah, I did good, huh." This most important man in my life, so far, my father, spent much of his time and energy in keeping the wolf from the door and taking care of me and my sisters. He's downright heroic and he so seldom thinks of himself, buys toys for himself, etc., that it is a real pleasure to watch him sit and enjoy things:humor, food, music (especially if its the music me and my sisters make, etc.). We always knew that we were #1 on his priority list, no question. When he came home from work, we knew that he was all ours to play with us, jump ont he trampoline with us and yes, to make us work in the garden. He helped around the house, picking up a broom to sweep the kitchen without thinking about it at all. We giggled at night when at the end of a day, we could hear him howling in joy or frustration over a basketball game and we'd delegate one of us to play the outraged 7-year old in a night gown. (Dad! We're trying to suh-leep!) But we loved him so much. He used to read to us at night: one chapter of the Book of Mormon and one chapter of one of his favorite adventure books from when he was a boy. --The Hobbit, Treasure Island, Robin Hood, Tom Sawyer, etc., with his head propped up against the wall near the light and the rest of him stretched out in the hall between our bedrooms.

I'm so proud of the fact that my dad instigates Family Home Evening, family prayers, family scripture study. I love to get a blessing under his hands. I can remember learning about repentance, God's plan and church service in quiet spontaneous moments. During Priesthood session, we always loved to have girl's night with the 6 of us, but the best part of the evening was having dad come home, sitting him down with some kind of dessert and having him tell us what the speakers talked about. My dad is a great story-teller but I think the best part was hearing in his voice how he felt about the gospel, the prophets, and his faith. Does it sound too ideal? Well, that's the kind of dad I have. He's the kind that holds you tight right before you get on a plane to leave the country for a year and whispers fervently, "I love you." He's always shown me he did in a million ways.

My dad is the best person to have sit by your hospital bed. He radiates unfailing steadiness. I remember his face, though, when he thought I was suffering. He would have traded places with me in a moment and said so. I remember as a teenager once worrying about my role, struggling to understand how a young woman fit into the gospel and feeling like I wasn't finding nearly enough women's voices in the scriptures. I thought of my dad and the way he felt about me--he thought I could do anything, wanted everything for me, and that's how I visualized what a heavenly father felt for me. I was filled confidence and when I encounter doubts, that memory stays with me.

It's been so thrilling to grow up and have my dad talk to me like he would to another adult, to counsel with me, comfort me, and encourage. One of the most bracing parts of my coming out here was to have my dad tell me he is excited for me and proud of me and that he feels it's the right thing to do. Before my mission he let me read his mission letters and journal. It was fun to hear about things through my father's 19-year old voice and know he felt the same things I did. That he was discouraged or felt inadequate or needed to know how much Heavenly Father loved him and also to feel his faith, know that he decided to become something for the rest of his life, see his creativity and desire. As a missionary I wondered when I told other people that God was a father, if the words would mean the same thing to them as it did to me, knowing that many of them did not have the same kind of father in their life.

I think that if Abraham, whose father wanted to kill him, could still have fatih and confidence and the desire to be a father of millions, that everyone must have some kind of pre-earth concept of what a father really is.

My nephew William Kerry Dyer was blessed the Sunday before I left. He was blessed to be an example of true Christ-like manhood and thinking about him, named for my sister's husband (also a prince among men) and his grandpa, I can't think of better examples for him to learn from. I could continue about so many of the men in my life. None of them are perfect, but oh, how much I've needed them.

Protectors, priesthood holders, and friends: I love you. Happy Father's Day.

Asian Thinker: Confucius

Round about the 2nd century B.C., a famous thinker and teacher appeared in China who influenced Eastern thought in a profound way and for many centuries. His name is a prime example of how Westerners slaughter Asian words (the word 'karaoke' comes to mind). In Chinese it is closer to Kong Fuzi, which means Master Kong. Like other famous teachers (Socrates, the Savior) his words come to us not through his own writing but through disciples who enthusiastically quoted him in a collection of writings called the Analects. Preach My Gospel lists him with those who had great light during the apostasy. Confucius believed he was on a mission from heaven, though he never claimed to be a prophet or more than a man. Look through the lens of the gospel as you read this.

Confucius taught that virtue, behaving morally, was the foundation for intelligence and learning and also for leadership. His teachings centered on ren or compassion and the idea of not doing to anyone else what you would not have done to you. "Confucius' political philosophy is also rooted in his belief that a ruler should learn self-discipline, should govern his subjects by his own example, and should treat them with love and concern. 'If the people be led by laws, and uniformity among them be sought by punishments, they will try to escape punishment and have no sense of shame. If they are led by virtue, and uniformity sought among them through the practice of ritual propriety, they will possess a sense of shame and come to you of their own accord.'" (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy). Isn't that how hoards of people saw royalty in the Savior? He didn't need to campaign for it or demand it. Isn't it right somehow, that God is good and not only the wisest and most powerful being? There is a kind of reassurance in that.

Confucius taught his countrymen that study means finding a good teacher and imitating his words and deeds. Confucius' teachings involved small anecdotes or pithy sayings from his life that the learner could compare to his own life, then ask him or herself if what he or she would have done would line up with Master Kong's action in a similar situation. (What's Chinese for "What would Jesus do?") Confucius teachings were not based on abstract principles from a distant and unknown deity. He and his followers did believe in heaven as a place where honorable people went, but they needed examples of goodness close to home. How profound that the Lord would come to earth and not just tell us from afar what we must do, but live with men and women and show us.

Part of the core of Confucian philosophy is the importance of long and careful 'Study' which is the watch cry of Asians everywhere. As a teacher Confucius did not choose his learners by rank, nor did he take on just anyone. His teaching style was as follows: "He poses questions, cites passages from the classics, or uses apt analogies, and waits for his students to arrive at the right answers." He is reported to have said, "I only instruct the eager and enlighten the fervent. If I hold up one corner and a student cannot come back to me with the other three, I do not go on with the lesson." Confucius' teachings also explain why teachers are so respected in Asia. A true education involves a moral education to ensure that the educated one behaves responsibly and humanely. These are ideals and though the Chinese government held this philosophy for years, I'm sure it's always been difficult to maintain a high level of virtue though generations of political leaders. The People's Republic of China rose against this old government which took its Confucian ideals to Taiwan.

Some well-known Confucian quotes:

"To know your faults and be able to change is the greatest virtue."

知錯能改，善莫大焉

"What you do not wish for yourself, do not do to others."

己所不欲，勿施於人。

"With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my crooked arm for a pillow - is not joy to be found therein? Riches and honors acquired through unrighteousness are to me as the floating clouds."

疏食飲水，曲肱而枕，樂在其中矣。不義而富貴，於我如浮雲。

"Knowledge is recognizing what you know and what you don't."

知之為知之，不知為不知，是知也.

"Reviewing the day's lessons. Isn't it joyful? Friends come from far. Isn't it delightful? One has never been angry at other's misunderstanding. Isn't he a respectable man?"

學而時習之，不亦說乎？有朋自遠方來，不亦樂乎?人不知而不慍，不亦君子乎？

The last quote was chanted by the numerous drummers in the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, China.(Wikipedia: Confucious)

The following two pictures are the entrance to the school, a traditional entrance for any school. The characters mean, Gate of Courtesy and Road of Righteousness:

First 3 weeks as a teacher

It's another stormy summer Sunday. In a few hours I have to get myself to my friend Josh Win's home and also to church. They are building a new church in Daliao, thank heavens, and in a month I won't have to go into the big city, though I'm starting to kind of enjoy the ride. I love Sundays.

At long last, I need to tell you about my students. I spend most of my waking hours with them or planning for them, so it really is strange I haven't written about them yet. in many ways they are similar to American teenagers. They work hard and so much is expected of them. I was thinking about the educational crisis in America and the economic crisis that layed off hundreds of teachers this past year. What if American schools had the same expectations for teachers and students that they have here? Every morning the students arrive at 7:30 and promptly take up their assignments to clean the school. There are no janitors—the students are responsible to clean their own school, sweeping leaves, scrubbing bathrooms, preparing for lunch, directing traffic, etc. In my classroom, when I am done with the chalkboard, a student jumps up to erase it, they fetch and carry things from my office and take care of turning on and off the lights, air conditioning, etc. Nobody gripes about this, these aren't jobs for punishment like in American schools where cleaning erasers or scrubbing desks is only your job if you misbehave.

The teachers change classrooms here, instead of the students. When I come in they make sure the roll is taken and a class leader tells me where I need to go, writes out notes for me to sign to send someone to the office if they are sick, and gives me feedback after the lesson. If my pen brakes, they haste to get me a knew one adn take things like DVD players and electric fans out of my arms to carry them. This is standard procedure for students and teachers. I honestly have been helped by my students more than anyone else. Imagine that as a teacher--we talk so much about teachers facilitating learning, but we never think of the power in students facilitating teaching. In theory, this is their classroom, their education and I enter it as an honored guest.(It's not always that ideal-these are regular kids after all) Going to school is a privilege that you pay a high tuition for and that you must take responsibility for. I'm not saying that we shouldn't offer free public school, but it made me think again about the American sense of entitlement that has crept into our society and how it keeps us from being responsible for owning our own success.

Here's a spare thought--I'll share because I don't know what else to do with it: I had one set of students in my writing class write me a letter from ten years in the future because they had been talking about their futures in the listening and speaking classes. As I was giving this assignment, which wasn't a bad one for being authentic and easy to understand, etc, I couldn't help wondering if this was the kind of assignment I would hate at their age. I remember when I was tutoring Riki Fukuyasu with a similar assignment--he had to research his future plans, but even in Japanese he couldn't have articulated what they were, or had much interest in them. Perhaps this is the way it is meant to be. He just chose a random future that he didn't really see happening and tried to say what he thought the teacher wanted from him. We're meant to be where we're at, I think. It made me laugh thinking about having to predict this my future if I had been in my student's shoes at 16. So little of what I have done was planned by me. I just took little steps in the dark, reaching after things I liked or abilities I had, but it's the sort of thing I could never have guessed at at 17 and only could look over my shoulder and see it unrolled behind me in a wonderful way but I think I can still only see it unrolled just inches in front of me. Caitlyn, I'm sure you can relate. If I had been in their place I would have picked something that I thought would satisfy the teacher, something that seemed bearable for a future job, plugged in some random number for ages when I'd do things, added in a family with no faces, and not really believed in it. I was writing my letter to the students while they wrote in their notebooks to me and I found myself thinking about this again--what did I want in ten years. Could I write that letter better now? I'm definitely feeling more ready for my future than I did as a teenager. Brother Paul, thanks for keeping tabs on me. I'd be very interested to know what's in my future career when you are free to tell me the details.

School is only mandatory through Junior High here. After that students go on to private high schools that are more like junior colleges. Our school enrolls 10,000 students and many of them come from all over the country and board in the same apartment complex I live in by themselves. The high school is also an industrial/ vocational school. These groups take classes in motorcycle and scooter maintenance, mechanics auto repair, fashion, hairstyling, restaurant management, and cooking. These students come for three months, go out as interns to earn money for their families (yes, many of them have to support their families) go back for three months, go out again etc. Then there are regular high school students and then a branch of English honors students who are trying to master English for translation purposes or to attend college in the states.

The students have long long hours of class and homework. They also do a lot of marching and chanting and though corporal punishment isn't allowed, teachers can still punish a student with doing pushups. They participate in drama competitions often, which means hours of memorizing and practicing their English lines. Yesterday was the national storytelling competition in Yuning, and I spent a lot of time with the groups competing to help them with their pronunciation and accent. One group won first place. I was so happy for them. I do think that the work load is unreasonable here. After a certain amount of time, the brain shuts down. It's documented. Furthermore, they confuse teaching with telling and learning with memorizing in Asian culture. I disagree with this practice. Asian students also have their own variety of difficultness when it comes to classroom management. More on that later.

It is surprisingly informal here. All the students call me and all their teachers by their first names. They add me on Facebook and invite me to go to night markets or the mall. I could never do it in America. It's really nice, though. They do something for me. They help me forget myself, they give me energy, and when they serve me I have a red-hot desire to be a better teacher. I still feel like a Bean in this role.

All my students have an English name. Most of them do pretty well with choosing pretty normal names. The most popular for girls are Cindy, Angel, Violet and Rita. Most popular for boys: Allen, Jason and Kevin. I do have girls named Pudding, Heaven, Seven and Echo, though, and there is a sweet guy in the office who goes by Panda. Sometimes the boys names they choose are really old fashioned like Augustine, Charles, Henry and Bartholomew. I have to have a Chinese name to for all records and my nametag, etc. I'm Bao Ai Li (That's a high neutral tone with two downward tones. One day I'll be able to say it right)

My first few weeks here have been like being in a zoo. As I was riding an elevator, I would hear whispers of "I wanna see" and then I'd have students peeking in at me. I walk past a group of junior high students and they all start giggling. It feels really odd to be a celebrity just because I'm white. My first year class started fingering my hair as we stood in a group while I tried to give them directions. A couple of the girls in one class asked if they could hug me and then were hysterical afterward. I smile and wave and tell them that I think they are beautiful and for the most part the hype has died down. However, the most awkward moment of all happened with my one class full of vocational students: I told them that they could ask me questions as long as I could ask them that same question back to get to know each other and practice their English. I thought this would help me know their level. When the bell rang, I practically had to run out of their class while they shouted "Wait, wait, wait!" They chased me and cornered me on the 7th floor balcony. I wanted to jump off of it. They were out of control, shouting:

"You have beautiful nose!"

"How much do you weigh?"

"I'm in love with you! Do you love me?"

"Do you have a boyfriend? Can I be your boyfriend?"

"You are sexy and kind! I'll tell anyone who ask me."

So much for Asian students being reserved and polite. But they are for the most part which is why this class was so surprising. Their very mature. I only wonder if they ever have a chance for a childhood. I think after then can walk they never get hugged or shown that much affection, though the parents certainly love their children and do all they can for them. I could go on and on about my students. I'll probably ask for advice from everyone I can, too, because a lot of you have experience with teaching, parenting, and teaching English to Asians. I'll need it.

Tai chi is going pretty well except I'm really horizontally challenged. It's not so much my height as it is my body to leg ratio. I just wasn't meant to be a crouching tiger. I'll just have to be a sweaty crane.

Yvonne continues to be one of my favorite people. She goes to Tainan every Friday night and stays until Monday morning so my weekends get kind of lonely. Here are some quotes from her from the past few weeks:

• When I crashed: "Don't feel bad. Life sucks sometimes."
  
• To a cockroach on the kitchen ceiling: "Look at you, you're getting so big. I'm starting to feel attached to them after watching them grow since they were small."
  
• And "Any problem you can solve with money, that is a small problem."

Finding the rhythm of Taiwan

I'm sitting in Yvonne's chair while a monsoon drums on the roof. I just had two white knuckle trips on the scooter to go to church. The rain drops are larger than the States and traffic is crazy. I probably better think of something to eat besides a peanut butter sandwich and milk from the carton.

I love my ward so much. Yesterday I went with the ward to clean the building and after we scoured the kitchen, we went and ate" Beef noodle." They are so kind to me, so friendly and undaunted in the face of an extreme language barrier. Would I be that way if the roles were reversed? How do we teach this thinking-about-others? How valuable that could be in the world. They pulled me out of myself and soon I was walking into other wards' choir practices and joining in with my Pinyin hymnbook I bought at the BYU bookstore, simply because I like to sing and the SA's are so darn friendly. People treat the church like their homes, which is similar to Japan. This is bad news when it comes to cleaning the church because who knows what junk you find when people treat the church like it's their living room, but it is wonderful in that it shows how the ward functions: like a family the basic and strongest unit of society. Members confess to coming to the church just to feel better during the week when they are sad. I remember as a missionary the way the lighted church made me feel as we glided in after a long day. It felt like home even more than my missionary apartment.

I received a calling and a setting apart today: I'm the YW activity specialist. I guess I better learn how to be fun. I am so grateful that the Lord will use me. I was blessed with health and ability and a blessing on my language learning under the hands of a man who has insights into who I am and how I feel. The Lord loves us so much. I know so because the people in my life show me a kind of care and fellowship that must mean God is real.

From the minute I landed and met Scott Huang, I knew I had a friend. He is the sweetest man and an inspired bishop and a master teacher. He has ridden around with me for hours this past week—me on my moped, he on his motorcycle, to help me figure out directions. We've had several valuable talks as he helped guide me into what I could bring to my work and ward associations, drawing out my opinions and plotting some missionary opportunities for me. I think I found a new liege-lord. He plays with the ward members like he is 17 instead of 37. His wife Sara is one of these incredible Asian sisters—those who miraculously raise 5 children, do the work of the house, hold three callings and still find the time to help the new, lost English teacher find things at the grocery store. She invited me to do Tai Chi with her and I look forward to my Wednesdays because of the chance to hang out with the Huangs. I loved her almost instantly, too.

I asked her how she and Scott met. She recently returned from her mission in Taichung and was a bridesmaid at a wedding. At the last minute, the wedding party was without a best man and their social status was on the line because it's all about the wedding party/procession. (More about Taiwanese weddings later). The family was LDS and there was an American elder of Taiwanese ancestry who would work nicely serving in the branch. Elder Huang was asked and the request was granted by the mission president: He could play best man as long as his companion went along. Well, in Taiwan, the wedding party travels in a long procession of cars (Yay, processions! I told you I wasn't crazy!), the longer, the better, and the lead car tosses firecrackers out of the window into the street.

Elder Huang's American companion was given the job of tossing these explosives out the window and had the time of his life doing it. Elder Huang remained in Taiwan to visit family members and stayed to date the bridesmaid of the wedding. They sent the mission president a wedding invitation not long after. Isn't that a great story?

Their kids are wonderful. Having lived in the United States, the Huang children are all native speakers. Nine-year old Jessica and I make quite a pair. She's nine and I'm a long-legged red and white giant. She calls me up on the phone, teaches me and generally bosses me around as much as she likes. The oldest girls are in the United States going to school, Michelle, the 3rd sister is 14 and very tall. She came my second night and talked to me that night about everything. Nathan, the youngest and only boy is adorable. He's been going to Tai chi class with his parents for a while now and he can do the movements incredibly well. He and I have a tradition of ninja sword fighting with whatever we can get our hands on. As we spin and lunge, I am amazed by this 4 year old. As he hacks at my knees, clashes with my sword and takes swipes at my calves in our snake dance, he is so amazingly gentle and in control that I don't fear for my limbs. I wonder where he learned this—his father? The influence of Eastern concepts of do-no-harm? Jessica is quite good too. She does Tai Chi with a pirate-like sword 2/3 her height and it's so graceful to watch. I'm going to do this for the next 13 months. It's so relaxing and kakkoi.

Yvonne Wu, my roommate should get an email's-worth herself. Scott Lee Morris, a great guy and my fore-runner said I would be living with "a sweet woman who works in the office." I'm sorry to have to say this, Scott, but that is a little near-sighted. Yvonne is FLINTY and EFFICIENT and UNDERSTANDING and INTENSE and INDEPENDENT and FUNNY. I guess you can call it 'sweet' because she uses all her powers for good. She knows when to give you space, constructive criticism, when to commiserate with you, when to scheme. I love her so much with a little bit of fear mixed in—she has that fierceness which comes of being a very sensitive person. She reminds me of Sister Matsumoto, except patient. She is hilarious and a citizen of the world who rejects the unfair expectations of many Taiwanese women. We had long talks about this. You'll hear more about her as time goes on, depend on it. Mom, you'd love her. She loves France, she loves the humanities and she has excellent taste in everything. Why do Asian women seem old and young at the same time? It goes beyond appearance. So far I and Sister Weinheimer (One half of the sister missionaries assigned to our ward) are the only white women in Taliao township. Wild, huh.

Okay, more on teaching and my students next time. I'm still figuring out how to describe them in a few words. This email is long enough as it is. I stay so busy, and this is good—and kind of unavoidable. I was thinking about this hymn again today and how I've been blessed to have been kept from just pulling into myself by being forced to dig in and work.

'Tis better far for us to strive,

Our useless cares from us to drive

Do this and joy your hearts will swell

All is well. All is well.

Landed in a Strange Land; May 14, 2010

Taiwan is an island just my size, which is to say that it suits me in so many ways. Here are some reasons why:

• Taiwan's strained relations with China make my life beautiful: imports come from America and Japan—the stores are full of things I am familiar with.
  
• Japan ruled Taiwan and was kind of like their Victorian era; therefore, I am considered classy. I am American and speak English and am therefore "hip." I also sit next to the Japanese teacher in the office.
  
• There are no semis (relatives of the cicada)
  
• Taiwan reminds me of Japan in many ways but the people don't have so many fences up, are not nearly as materialistic or busy. (I can say these things without loving Japan any less. Love is a funny thing)
  
• Taiwan is a nation of bargain hunters—everyone's always asking everyone how much they paid for everything and anytime I'm told about something, the best recommendation is "it's cheap, it's cheap." I don't mind being asked how much I pay for everything from my flight to my computer case to my headphones. Retail is for suckers.
  

I arrived on Friday morning, Taiwan time, and I wasn't as much of a mess as I thought I'd be. My journey had 5 legs to it: Idaho Falls to SLC to LAX to Taipei to Kaohsiung and altogether it was about 30 hours long with the wait time in airports. I was almost giddy to stand in the lines at SLC and LAX and be surrounded by Asians. I sat by the nicest Vietnamese man across the Pacific and though we slept most of the time, it was a good flight. I woke up in time to fly over southern Japan and it's nice to know that that island is still there right where I left her. I'll have to make a trip over sometime.

I realize now that every time I've left the country it has been to go to an island—first England, then Japan and now Taiwan. Each time it has been a huge time of growth for me. We flew in over a deep blue, hazy ocean that was dotted with fishing boats.

Scott Huang came to pick me up and he's a sweet, smiley man, and my best friend so far. He has saved me on a number of occasions. He is very young for a bishop: late thirties/early forties. He had that way of looking delighted to see you, that only Asians have. I'd forgotten about the degree of genki-ness people can have, especially after LAX. (Genki is Japanese for being energetic, happy and generally full of beans(That's P. G. Wodehouse-ian for genki)).

What a first day I had! The streets are noisy and crowded, everyone rides a scooter and traffic is really petty gut wrenching but exhilarating. It was suffocatingly hot and humid, which again suits me and it is skin and hair heaven here. He drove to Taliao township which is the countryside, so I was told and the very last stop on the metro. In reality, it doesn't seem the least bit rural when compared with Idaho. My hair does what nature intended it to do: riotous curls! I was shown around the school and given rapid fire instructions and directions. The school is beautiful with enormous jungle trees which have purple orchids grafted into them, a couple of waterfalls and sweet people. I like everybody in the office already. Steve Yang, the head of international affairs, was baptized by a man from Rigby and learned to drive in a parking lot in Blackfoot. There were several office students working there who are fantastic. They were practicing their English by watching Chicken Run on someone's computer and saying the dialogue, with the emphasis and inflection along with the characters. I loved it when they did the Scottish Hen's voice. I think I've already given my heart to them.

Julie, the volleyball coach took me around. It was hot to be climbing up 7 floors and visiting several buildings but we managed it. She's easy-going and kind and answered my questions. There are several school dogs—that's right, dogs. They belong to employees of the school and are breedless and mostly good-tempered. They lay sprawled around in the heat, too tired to bark, and really filthy, but lovable, too. The office is crowded and there is little storage, There is a teetering pile of books on my desk and I'm overwhelmed, but I think I am happy that way. Julie also taught me to ride a scooter. I buzz around with my heart in my teeth: the streets are a total madhouse, which is terrifying, but a small part of me finds it kind of thrilling. I can, in fact I'm expected to do all kinds of rude things at unthinkable speeds that I always felt bad about doing on my bike in Tokyo.

I can't believe I forgot about the smell—that kind of hot-with-everything-peacefully-molding smell. Not bad, just foreign. It's very tropical and the sounds of birds are different except someone has a rooster and I am here to tell you that I get up earlier than he does. I'm in that golden place where jet lag is my friend: I wake up at 5 AM and feel tired at 9PM. I will write more about my students and teaching next time.

Oh, here are some of the downsides:

• In my first 10 minute walk, I saw no less than 2 large rats climbing around the drains. I'd never seen a rat in the wild before. Ick.
  
• All water must be filtered and then boiled or purchased.
  
• I miss my dear ones and will have some pretty lonely times. I will be better for it, but at times I worry that I will get so used to being alone that I'll never get out of it.
  

All is well.