Where are the Chinese sympathy cards?

They were not to be found in the supermarket, and in China, drugstores are drugstores, not mini-markets. The New Year and birthday cards are located easily enough, as are the ubiquitous  hóngbao, or red envelopes in which money is given for the holiday.

Those are actually closer to being more useful to Chinese mourners, who will leave money at the wake of someone who has died as a sign of the respect to the family and to help defray the costs of the funeral. According to a thorough explanation of Chinese funeral customs at www.chinaculture.org, family members also are given red packets at the burial, though red is a symbol of happiness. (For example, the corpse is never dressed in red, for that would turn the deceased into a ghost.)

Aside from being amused by this observation, Dick Wicks might say I was taking the long way around the barn. Dick, my father-in-law, died March 2 at age 80. He was the kind of guy who had a knack for immediately relaxing those around him. He just had a genial way about him, and his picture ought to be placed under any heading for “ideal grandfather.”

Attempting to reiterate this point to my daughter, I made a reference to Dick being right out of a George Orwell painting, conjuring a somewhat bizarre “Big Grandpa” image when the more comforting Norman Rockwell model had been intended. That, no doubt, would have prompted a chuckle from Dick as well.

Awhile back, on a night when fireworks were going off in Yangzhou, a former student informed me that they might be for someone’s birthday or funeral.

Dick Wicks deserved fireworks.

Forgot to mention: Another way in which the Chinese honor their late loved ones is coming up Tuesday, April 5. It’s called Qingming Jie, or Tomb Sweeping Day. Family members tend to graves, sweeping away dirt, pulling weeds, and leave offerings of food and spirit money (typically paper). According to a China Daily article, a trendy offering on some store shelves in Guangzhou are iPads and iPhones made out of paper. A paper MacBook goes for six yuan.

The China Star story on teaching English

Or, somehow my newspaper career refuses to die. If you live in or near Raleigh, N.C., you can see the spindly signs of life in The China Star, a small, bilingual paper published in the Triangle. It can usually be found with other such publications at the entrance to a public library.

Appropriately, I wrote about my reasons for coming to China, the market for English teachers and a Chinese viewpoint on hiring native English speakers to teach, as provided by Chen Changshun, interim director of the foreign languages department at Jianghai Polytechnic College, who recruited me to come to Yangzhou.

Here are some highlights, plus a little extra from Mr. Chen that was not submitted for the story:

• A guide for foreign teachers in China, published by the web site Middle Kingdom Life, reports that an estimated 325 million Chinese, or about one-fourth of the population, is studying English at any given time, terming the language effort a “national obsession.”
• Though current figures are uncertain, the China Daily newspaper reported in 2006 that more than 150,000 foreign experts, most of them from the United States, England, Australia, Canada and New Zealand, were employed in China, and People’s Daily Online reported that about 100,000 foreign teachers per year were being recruited.
• As reported previously, my deal is fairly typical: 4,500 yuan ($676 U.S.) per month — low enough so that no Chinese taxes are deducted; a small, furnished, one-bedroom apartment; all utilities except telephone paid; basic medical coverage; $1,200 reimbursement for round-trip air fare; and 1,100 yuan in traveling money at the end of each semester. (Although the salary seems low, it is actually quite good — more than enough to live on comfortably. The biggest expense here, by far, is housing, which is provided for me.)

Mr. Chen, 62, a longtime vice-president of the foreign languages college at nearby Yangzhou University, discussed China’s drive to learn English and the experience of foreign teachers.

T.G.I. Mid-Autumn Festival

One more class today, then a four-day break to celebrate the Fifteenth of the Eighth Moon, and not a moment too soon. To borrow a line from Rodney, now I know why tigers eat their young. So, thank you ancient Xia and Shang dynasties — China Daily has a very good explanation of the Mid-Autumn Festival — and bring on the pomegranates, pomelos, cooked taro, water caltrope and, especially, moon cakes. Those are habit-forming.

In looking back on my experience thus far as an English teacher at Jianghai Polytechnic College, I hold these truths to be self-evident:

1. Don’t believe that no teaching experience is needed, as many ESL job ads claim. Classroom experience makes a big difference (translation: makes life a lot easier). At least you should do some sort of TEFL or TESOL coursework before coming to China, especially if you’re planning to teach older students. Personally, I don’t think it’s a substitute for real experience, but it can’t hurt, and will add to your qualifications if and when your school helps you apply for the “foreign expert license” that will enable you to obtain a work visa to stay in China for, say, a year.

2. “Don’t have to speak Chinese” to get a job. True. Some comfort level with the language, though, might be even more important than point No. 1. I worked with a Chinese tutor for several weeks before traveling from Raleigh, N.C., to Yangzhou in Jiangsu Province. Wasn’t enough.

It strikes me as absurd that someone with no teaching experience and no more than a few words of Mandarin in his head can teach English to 30-35 Chinese college students at a time. I’m putting myself to sleep.

3. Speak slowly, future ESL teachers. Then slow it down another 50 percent. I’m having a lot of trouble doing that. Chinese students who are supposed to have several years of English training can barely understand a word I’m saying. Many can speak no more than a few words.

I’ve expressed my frustrations over the difficulty connecting with students to my superiors in the foreign languages department, and they have sympathetically reminded me more than once that Jianghai students scored lower on their college entrance exams than any other students in China. Oh, that’s heartening. No wonder I was qualified for this job.