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December 15, 2000
Saying Goodbye
My room is now empty of students. I've spent many hours this week visiting with students one on one and in small groups. Saying goodbye is difficult. I will miss them and hope to stay in touch. Their lives and stories fascinate me. They represent an entire generation of Chinese moving forward into a different world than their parents.
One student told me of her family. She's from a rural province of China. She is intelligent, curious, and speaks halting English. When I began teaching the class she would not speak up in class. Early in our meetings she asked me if I would converse with her in private after class. I agreed. We had a slow and difficult conversation as she searched for words and overcame her shyness at speaking to this strange foreigner in a strange tongue. As we ended our first private conversation she placed her right hand over her heart and said, with a beaming smile, "I embraced courage to speak with you."
She now speaks in class and we've had many private conversations. Today she told me about her family and life. Her parents are peasants. Her mother was born in 1940, the same year of my birth, to a "wealthy" family. She stopped speaking for a moment and looked sad and pensive and then said, "the revolution dealt harshly with my mother. She had to go to the countryside, she had no choice."
There are five children, four boys and my student, who is the youngest. All of them are educated. She said, "my parents worked very hard and made many sacrifices and demanded that we be diligent in our studies." She proudly described how one of her brothers has traveled widely. The list of countries began with the United States.
Two of the brothers are English teachers in Middle School. The other two work for the government. She is married to a teacher. She is a graduate student, and she and her husband live apart. There are few facilities for married graduate students. Two of my graduate students are married and live in dormitories in separate rooms. They explained that they had applied to live together but needed to bribe someone to get a place. They had refused and explained by saying, "I would rather spend my money on feasting with friends." This remark accompanied a feast they were providing for themselves and me at a local restaurant.
Many of my students listen to Voice of America. They learn many things about the United States and much of it is accurate and not all of it is flattering. One student commented today on the fact that an enormous percentage of African-Americans supported Gore in the recent election and knew of the outcry in the U. S. about the racial dimensions of the recent election.
As I wind up my time here and turn my mind toward home I have two prominent feelings. One is sadness at leaving the friends I've made here, and the other is an increasing sense of homesickness. I've not longed for home since I have been here, but as the time to return closes in my longing increases. When asked about homesickness in the past I always said that I did not feel homesick. Now my answer would be different.
Among the presents I have received is a poem from a student. On the card with the poem the student writes, "The poem, which can be recited by almost all Chinese, was written by Li Bai, who lived in the 7th century of the Dong Dynasty and is considered one of the greatest poets of China. The meaning of the poem is very simple, but there is perhaps no one that will deny its beauty. Particularly those who have left hometown for a long time. Like you."
Missing My Hometown On A Quiet Night
There is in front of my bed the moon light,
which I mistake for frost on the ground.
Raising my head, I see in the sky the bright moon.
Lowering my head, I begin to miss my hometown.
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