Last night for Institute (college age religious classes), we met at the home of temple missionaries, Elder & Sis. Funk. Temple Missionaries are older, retired couples who work in the temple and are set apart like younger, proselytizing missionaries. They only work in the temple, however. Anyway, after a great class on the early chapters of the Book of Helaman, we had dinner with the Funks. As Elder Funk and I expressed to each other, it is the small things you miss when you live abroad. We had chili and I have to say my first taste was so divine I had a physical reaction. Everyone thought I burned my mouth. I had not had chili, especially good chili, in over six months.
After dinner, we had a long discussion, particularly of their family. I love listening to people talk about their family histories. The hardships of the depression and war generations are especially touching to me, as I remember the strength that was in my own grandparents. I noticed it was nearing 11 pm at last and we (the students) left. My talking contributed to the lateness, no doubt. Still, it was a great experience.
As a side note, Elder Funk is descended from Isaac Melton, a son of Isham Melton that emigrated from North Carolina to Indiana. Isham is a potential candidate as the father of my maternal 4th great-grandfather, Michael Milton. So, he could be my 4th or 5th cousin. He is not the only relative in my ward here in Taipei. More distantly related, there is a Sevey and a Frost here, two names that permeate my paternal family tree.
My first week of school was one of frustration and anxiety. The frustration was due to the registering process. I spent a great deal of time in great many queues. I have no doubt that my school, Beijing Language and Culture University, endeavored to streamline the process with helpers directing hallway traffic and answering questions. Large placards detailed every paper and other items needed for each line. I am just that guy. You know that guy – the one who seems incapable of standing in line. No because I am incapable of reading the instructions, just incapable of following them.
esterday marked the end of my employment of 3 years at Beijing University of Beijing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics (Beihang, for short). I have turned my grades in and hope that no modification of them is needed. Grading is my least favorite part of teaching. Some people are the most earnest students, but quite frankly stink at studying languages. I always feel that there are some who received a better grade than they deserve and a great many more who received less than their due. That is one of the difficulties in judging grades for classes that are oral based. Any mark is almost entirely subjective. For example, a introverted student usually receives a lesser score because of the nature of the class. Being a natural introvert myself, I can understand this. I hope that they themselves consider it fair. One of the things that sooth my conscience was the fact that I only provided half of the English grade, with the rest resulting from an English writing class given by a Chinese teacher.
It seems in many ways that my life has come full circle. Or maybe just that it has not gone anywhere, if I were a complete pessimist. When I was 25, I set out for China as an English teacher. I was young, reasonably healthy (if very overweight), and happy. My second time in China was a time of depression and despair mitigated only by the presence of awesome friends. My roommate Bruno and our companions Beata, Rob, Jan, Masako (and so many others) did more of a service in my life than even they know. 2009-2012 was one of the darkest periods of my life and in the last two years of that time, I almost folded. But now I have returned triumphantly (mostly in my own head) to China at 34, still as an English teacher. I may have not been a huge success in the last decade, but most importantly I am happy. Still overweight, though. I have found that I am usually happier abroad for some reason. Probably something to do with not paying taxes.