Fall at Shi Da (IMNU)

On the main campus (not to be confused with the “new campus,” forty-five minutes south of Hohhot) looking north along one of the main walkways. You see a track to the left and one of the larger classroom buildings in the center (and you can just barely see the mountains if your eyes follow the walkway north). I took this photo two days ago during the noontime lull when most people are at lunch. Usually this walkway is filled with students.

This fall has been absolutely beautiful in Hohhot. The weather has been mild and the skies have often been clear and blue. We've had crisp autumn days that remind me of home in eastern Washington. It is comforting to know that crisp autumn days are crisp autumn days whether you are in the eastern or western hemisphere.

Autumn is a great time to be a teacher, whether in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, or Pasco, Washington. Fall has always been my favorite season: it is still warm, but now the sun is a friend rather than a hostile overlord; on campus there is energy in the air as students flow into and out of classrooms, dormitories and gymnasiums. These days, Shi Da (IMNU) is alive with constant activity.

I no longer worry about the heat in my fifth floor classroom in the International Exchange College building. I happily don one of my coveted new sweater vests and march from my apartment to meet my eager students, who always arrive en masse five to ten minutes early. They greet me with a a cheery, "Hello, Teacher," in unison, and then we begin our lessons.

This is my HR3 class (Human Relations 3). They are always attentive and respectful, as are all my classes, but these guys are especially motivated. In the front row, from left, you see Kristen, Catherine, and Rose.

I love the view from my classroom, which looks out on apartments that surround the University. On clear days, I can look north and see the mountains beyond the city.

I can see a pigeon coop on top of one of the apartments that is at eye level with my fifth floor classroom.

I've lived on campuses in Pullman, Istanbul (only for ten days), New Haven and Paris (with Arienne), Los Angeles, and now Hohhot, and I think that wherever you are, universities are universities (like crisp autumn days). They have their familiar features: students, teachers, administrators, classrooms, auditoriums, laboratories, dormitories, tracks, basketball courts.

But they also have their differences. Here, for example, freshmen generally do not choose the classes they will take (or the majors they will pursue), but rather are told what classes they will take and when those classes will meet. Instead of navigating through their student lives as individuals, they immediately become part of a "class." For the next four years, each class (composed of around thirty students) will live in the same dorm, attend the same classes, and participate in the same mandatory events (such as talent shows and sporting events). Each class has a student monitor and a faculty advisor. They have almost daily meetings. Unlike in the American system, no one will fall through the cracks unnoticed. In fact, rarely does anyone even miss a class. Everyone is present and accounted for daily, and this communal approach fosters a retention rate that American universities would find enviable--nearly everyone will graduate. Just as important, the close-knit nature of each class will foster deep friendships and relationships that will last a lifetime. In a country where connections (guanxi) are so meaningful, the bonds forged by university classmates will not diminish after graduation.

My Chinese colleagues tell me that it is easy to get into American Universities but hard to get out, as evidenced by the high drop-out rates. They say that here it is the opposite: it is hard to get into university because of competition, exam requirements, and high costs. But once inside, students will be stewarded through carefully. In fact, they will not even be given the chance to fail.

Leaving aside the pros and cons of this communal approach for Chinese students (something I'm still pondering), the unique organization of student life here at Shi Da makes my life more interesting. Whenever there is an event (so far we've had TWO sports days and one talent show in just over a month of classes), all the students and all the faculty and administrators are required to attend. If classes are cancelled, which is not uncommon, you have to arrange a time to make them up. Call up the class monitor and tell him (all of my monitors are male, even though I have more female students) that you want to have class at 9:00 pm and the entire class will be there.

Today, for instance, my morning classes were cancelled because of an international college fair, where universities from England, Holland, and New Zealand set up booths in the art building and met with interested students. At an American university, students would have visited the college fair (if they were interested) on their own between classes. Here, all classes were cancelled, all students were required to attend, and all faculty members and administrators turned out for the necessary pomp and circumstance that accompanies all of these events. The pictures below show both students and administrators at the opening ceremonies of the international college fair.

Dean Chen welcomes VIPs as IEC (International Exchange College) students look on. The two tall students immediately to the right of Chen Yao’s right arm are Cole and Andrew, both in my “Network 1” class.
VIPs at the International Education Fair. Familiar faces include Vice Dean Wong, front row left; Dean Chen, front row third from left; Party Secretary Zhou, first row far right; Vice Dean Wu, second row far left. My American colleagues and I are in the back row, Karen, far left, and Tyler, far right.

Since I had my morning classes cancelled, I rescheduled them for 4:10pm and 6:30pm tonight and expected to spend the morning catching up on reading or writing journals. Then WuYunna, the Vice Dean, informed me (at 8:00am) that I would be expected to attend the opening ceremonies of the college fair that began at 9:00am. So there went the morning of solitude (as if solitude is possible in our small apartment with two kids).

It is great to part of a campus community, even if you are usually the last one to find out what is going on (I didn't know about the college fair until the day before--and the same was true for the sports days, although both events are probably listed on my school calendar in Chinese.) If I were to take a pampered American-centric professorial view of things, I would complain that I have no obligation to make-up classes that are cancelled for reasons beyond my control. I would also argue that college fairs and sports days and student talent shows (the latter I haven't told you about yet) are not part of my teaching contract. But, of course, such arguments would not get me very far here and certainly wouldn't endear me to my Chinese colleagues, who sweep the floors and empty the garbage of their classrooms and run the "sixty-meter dash with balls" with no complaints about professional indignities. In fact, no one here suffers "indignities," but teachers here at the university certainly don’t enjoy the same broad freedoms and privileges that we enjoy in the states (and I teach at a community college!). On the other hand, they enjoy a far greater sense of "community" than we do.

More on teaching to come!

Thanks for reading.

Dave