The Chinese teachers decided to change the testing format this time. No reason given. As it goes around here, why?
No why, just do it. So I put on a movie and drug two desks into the hallway, proceeding to talk to them and score them based on how they spoke. Most of the computer kids should have failed.
I did not fail them, nor did I mark down the bad liar from the previous column. I passed all of them. Some got a 60, the lowest possible passing grade, and for some, that score was highly inflated.
It’s not like I asked them difficult questions. Even a simple “What did you do this morning?” produced the same effect as “Some have ridiculously proposed that a controlled demolition brought down World Trade Center 7. Summarize the positions for and against this outlandish, unreasonable theory. Be sure to cite scientific viewpoints” would have.
Mine alternated between their weekend activities, their daily activities, what they thought of English and why they chose their major.
We didn’t spend much time together. I just wanted to get them out of there. I never wanted to see them again. It’s one thing to have bad English. That’s OK. That’s why we have these classes — to improve one’s English. It’s another to purposefully not learn, and it’s even weirder that they’re computer science or engineering or whatever majors because English would be a great advantage for any of those fields.
I asked them why they chose to major in computer engineering or science. This is the Wuhan University of Science and Engineering, so I could have easily flipped a coin. And many of them replied that it was not a choice at all. They had to because of bad test scores.
I do not fully understand how students choose universities here and then majors. They told me that the test for college includes sections on math, Chinese literature, Chinese language and English, and that, much like our own SAT and ACT, limits their choices of university.
But unlike our own SAT and ACT, there are true limits. There are no considerations given to high grade-point average or personal essays. A cutoff is indeed a cutoff. That test put them in this university. The English language test put them in this classroom. I was responsible for entertaining them regardless, and the best entertainment came at the lectures.
I have so far neglected the most horrible, most terrible aspect of this “concentration camp”: the lectures. One lecture each Tuesday with a different foreign teacher. The topic? Anything we want.
A short recap: We, speaking English, lecture on any topic we choose to an audience of disinterested students who cannot understand the majority of what we say. What could possibly go wrong?
The time, for starters. As the lecture drew near, I decided not to take it too seriously. I’d already realized what the classes are, and this lecture sounded atrocious. I decided to do the history of rock ‘n’ roll in America. Much like the former class under Wendel Werner, I would not keep my lecture exclusive to music but talk about race relations, segregation, culture, etc.
I asked Vicki several times when it started. Each and every time she replied, “1:55,” firmly. 1:55, the duration of four periods of classes. That’s a little long, but it didn’t faze me. What I had would blow the minds of these sheltered 18-year-olds going on six.
When my number was called, I showed up at the lecture hall at 1:45 to find a Chinese teacher setting up. He spoke little English, so through my own inference and an interpreter, I found out he had class. Strange. I called Vicki and she said, “No, it starts at 3:55.”
3:55, not 1:55. Oh, that’s right, except that you said several times 1:55. She defended herself. “No I did not. I told you many times 3:55 …” Except that you didn’t. Except that you gave me the wrong time and rather than admit your mistake, you put it on me. Perhaps it’s mianzi (Chinese for “face value”). She doesn’t wish to lose face.
I had started bringing my laptop to that soulless chamber known as the New Campus, and I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and hung out in the library for a couple hours. At 3:30, I headed back over to find my students.
And a locked computer.
— Travis Lee is a UT alumnus. He can be reached at [email protected].
