MONDAY 7:45 PM

The bell rings as I finish telling my students their homework. “Have a good night!” I say to dismiss them. They file out quickly, except for a handful. As I pack up, I make small talk with those who are waiting for me.

After I’ve gathered up all my things, we turn off all the power in the classroom and step out into the dark and empty hall. We bolt the classroom with the padlock and then one student walks down to one end of the hall and another to the other end, both yelling “有人吗?” (“Anybody there?”) No responses, so they turn out the lights at the end of the hall. By the time the reach me it’s pitch black. Someone whips out a cell phone flashlight and we go through the metal door to the stairs. I lock the metal door behind me, and a student flips off the lights before we start down the stairs. Why there isn’t a light switch that works at the bottom of each flight, I don’t know! But it isn’t the only quirk about this building). A girl links arms with me to guide me down the dark steps.

Once we’re outside, it’s not as dark, but they continue to walk with me and chat with me most of the way home. Some go off to the dining hall (they haven’t had their dinner yet), others head to the library to study, but usually at least two of them “send me” all the way home. They practice their English and we talk about anything and everything, from the bright orange full moon we see, to hairstyles, to students joining the Party, and the Easter story I just had them act out in class.

It’s nice to have some company on the walk home in the dark, but what I’m really grateful for is to have 15 minutes of their day that’s usually wall-to-wall classes (they are double-majors) to simply get to know them better, to have fun, to laugh. Once we reach my apartment, it’s a short goodbye. “See you tomorrow night!” Two night classes a week = two times I get “sent home” by students each week! :)

TUESDAY 5:30 PM

I feel like I'm swimming upstream as I walk across campus from the cafeteria, where I’ve just had an early dinner with a friend. Class has just let out in both teaching buildings and all the students are surging towards the one cafeteria that feeds this university’s twenty thousand students. It’s a good thing that I’m not carrying much because every few steps I wave to another student I know. Some don’t see me – the girls who refuse to wear their glasses in public and those so intent on reaching the cafeteria because they only have 15 minutes to eat before they go on to their next class.

By the time I reach the teaching building, the stream of students has tapered off, and I take my time up the 104 steps to the sixth floor. I get my things from my office and go into the classroom across the hall. The sun is setting, casting an orange light into the dusty, gray classroom. Brandon is head down, asleep on the desk. Angela is munching away on some sweet Chinese bread. Tony stands impatiently by the door. “What are you waiting for?” I ask. “My dinner, my classmate is bringing me some bread and water.” “Bread and water for dinner, it sounds like you’re in prison!” I guess he didn’t have enough time to get to the cafeteria after his class today.

In the afternoon, I’d taught an oral English lesson about food and had brought in some American snacks. Since only 5 teachers came, and one left early, there were some leftovers. I open a tin and offer the rest of the PB and J sandwich to the students in the classroom. “Delicious!” they all exclaim. Just as I offer the last piece, their classmates start to arrive for our 6 PM Intercultural Communication class.

TUESDAY 1:25 PM

The tiny classroom is packed with students when I enter it around 1:25, 15 minutes before the bell rings. As I go about setting up for class, a few students who have looked up from their books and their naps stare quizzically and smilingly at the one of the six white-skinned teachers teaching at this university of over 20,000. I smile back, say hello, and tell them in Chinglish that’s they still have time to stay and study if they’d like.

These students in front of me have class back to back all day, and sometimes into the night. On weekends they go to private training schools to study for their graduate entrance exams. And instead of going to their dorms to nap after lunch like most their classmates, they’ve chosen to find an empty classroom to cram in some extra studying.

Inevitably, as soon as I say "you can stay, really!" one of them starts to pack up, and they all are gone within a minute. Maybe they think I'm being indirect, but I really wouldn't mind if they staying there studying until just before the bell. Maybe next Tuesday they'll stay longer.

At 1:37, my students arrive. My students are teachers. They are the student counselors, lecturers, and researchers. They have families, parents to take care of, children ages 1, 3, 16, 23. They will be absent on account of having to give their thesis defense, or because they have to go to apply for a visa to travel to the USA. They're busy. I don't expect them to come early, like most college students in China ... I just hope that they'll come!

At 1:45, it looks like we'll have a turnout of 10 for today. Half the roster, that's pretty good! I greet each one by name and begin class. In this advanced level class, I'm letting them dictate much of the discussion. Today's topic - what's the greatest risk you've ever taken? ... and somehow we also get back around to talking about nuclear radiation and why everyone in China was rushing to buy salt a week or so ago.