Sunday, January 24, 2021

Happy New Year - 2021!


Fuzhou Foreign Languages School

Fuzhou, Fujian, China

A New Year's Memory with an 

O. Henry Ending        

December 31st and January 1st are holidays in America. Not so in China where it's business as usual. School is in session.

But on December 31st, 2001, at the Fuzhou Foreign Languages School in Fuzhou, China, students and faculty took a slightly different approach to the school day by celebrating their "First Foreign Language Festival." 

Established by Irish missionaries at the turn of the 20th century, the school had lived through the end of an empire, a civil war, Mao, a Communist take-over and the Cultural Revolution when teachers were often sent off for re-education in the countryside, but the Fuzhou Foreign Languages School had survived. And in 2001-2002 their first native English-speaking American teacher had taken up residence at the school. 

Her name was Miss Jones, an easy-to-pronounce English name compared to Mrs. Walczak as she was known in her high school back in Pennsylvania where "Walczak" created pronunciation problems even for the best English speakers.

The "First Foreign Language Festival," Miss Fang's brain child, would cultivate the use of spoken English, encourage a spoken English milieu, and utilize its American teacher. English was one of only four required school subjects because speaking English provided one way up the economic ladder. 

Miss Fang

Dean of the school's English department, Miss Fang oozed creativity. She planned the Festival to be an all-day, all-school event for the 2,000+ students, a way to celebrate the "joys of speaking English" (perhaps a concept needing revival in America). She organized room decorating, games, and song competitions. But the highlight of the day was a two and a half hour show for a packed house at a local cinema just a short walk up the Lu.

If you watched the opening and closing ceremonies of the  2008 Beijing Olympics on television, you know the Chinese have a flair for spectacle, drama, and excess in productions that should make the producers of the Super Bowl half-time shows pale. 

The Chinese have a flair for 
performance even in daily
morning exercises at school.


Miss Fang's show featured 20 student and teacher presentations: songs, poems, speeches, dances, and plays. From behind the stage curtain I watched, thoroughly impressed with their creativity and ingenuity. In fact, we weren't past the first number, and I knew I was out of my league. I could speak English, but I couldn't sing like Dolly or dance like Travolta. I would be a woeful disappointment to Miss Fang, my mentor and supervisor.

Machines pumped fog across the stage for a troupe of Japanese kimonoed dancers. Synchronized dance numbers featured fans and banners swinging in rhythm. Sixty ballroom dancers in gowns moved in perfect formation until I was ready to sashay out the back door of the theater and forget I had a part in the performance.

But the everpresent Miss Fang would not let her only native English speaker escape. She was at the door, in my face, and generally everywhere at once. Always smiling and bowing, this in-charge lady was a task master, a workaholic, and a perfectionist, who had become one of my best friends in the four months I had been in her charge. Driven by love for the school and its students, she taught me much about the art of teaching and the joy of serving her school, but this diminutive pack of dynamite had nearly become my nemesis over the last few weeks.

Before Thanksgiving (a thoroughtly American holiday not celebrated in China), I had a call from Miss Fang to report to her office, not an uncommon occurrence. 

"Jo Ann, we will be having a Foreign Language Festival at the end of December, and at the Festival I would like you to do two hours of English word games at English Corner in the courtyard, teach the  teachers several songs in English to sing at the Festival, and perform a play with your spoken English class." 

My stomach churned for a month like the Chinese wringer washer on my apartment balcony.

Some of the Foreign Language School teachers
under a bell tower built by the Irish.

Initially, the music seemed to be the biggest challenge. My only contribution to any choir had been volume not melody. The teachers nixed several songs I chose as too difficult, including "Lean on Me" and "My Favorite Things." My knowledge of contemporary music came to an abrupt halt prior to my child-rearing years in the '70's, so current hits were not on my radar. 

Fortunately, the Carpenters, Karen and Richard, were making a big hit in China at the time ... long past their prime in America, Karen dominated every sound system in China's larger stores. So the teachers chose her hit "Sing a Song" as their first number. Both Chinese and Spanish language challenged, I was amazed by their choice of "Una Paloma Blanca" as their second number. My ability to provide either musical or language help immediately came into question. As with most of my other directives about life, my coaching amounted to this advice: "Sing loud. Smile big. They'll love you for your spirit." (A philosophy that has saved face for me on many occasions, and in China "saving face" is necessary.)

Those lovely Chinese teachers did whatever they were told, uncomplainingly. At the Festival they sang their hearts out, but most were too nervous to "smile big" because they were concentrating on remembering the words. Our performance did not take the show by storm, despite Miss Fang's efforts to add excitement by having glitter fall from the rafters during our songs. A surprise to all of us, it served to break the concentration of my Chinese colleagues who promptly forgot the words.

But it was the play that dominated by attention in the month before the Festival. Our American short story writer, O. Henry, appeals to the Chinese for his clever and ironic endings. I rewrote his story "The Policeman and the Anthem" in seven short scenes of easy English. The story is about a homeless man in New York City who, faced with winter cold, tried his hand at a variety of crimes to get himself arrested and sent to a warm jail cell.

Our cast of about 25 students practiced for an hour every day. Most students 

One of our policemen and Allen
on the right.
only had to learn three or four lines, except for "Soapy," the homeless man. I chose Allen for that part. His English wasn't the best, but he had mastered the art of class clown, he was fearless about speaking up in class unlike most Chinese teens, and, best of all, he was loud.


Cherry, our narrator who spoke wonderful English, would become incensed with Allen's garbled English during rehearsals and stop in her recitations to give him the dirtiest looks and rail at him in Chinese. Who knows what she said, but her looks were venomous.

Michael was a "reader," like a Greek chorus role. He turned out to be highly nervous and as the curtain on performance day was rising, he was yelling to me, "How do I say 'Enjoy, enjoy'?"

Our policeman,
Vince Carter on the left.
The play has five policemen. We were able to obtain authentic Chinese police uniforms from the husband of one of the teachers. Steven, Disney, Vince Carter, Jordan (Michael), and James were the biggest boys in the class. They received the coveted roles of policemen, and each brought his own brand of "police aura."'

Vince Carter did a superlative job with his line, "Is there a problem here?" And Jordan's, "What are you doing here?" was convincing, though not entirely discernible. 

Steven had a wonderful swagger and gave a hearty laugh on cue, but his "Poor slob!" had too many p's and b's, and it ended up mostly spit.

Disney couldn't get his lines out fast enough. He speaks English at record pace, and he managed to run on stage, spew out his lines and hustle off in a flash.

But our star, Allen, did a wonderful job. He managed to look perpetually cold on a snowy winter day, eat sloppily in a diner, and fall realistically when shoved around. If only he had remembered to turn on his lapel microphone.

The art teacher and the school carpenter had been dragged into the mix by Miss Fang, also. The carpenter made a sign for each store scene on our New York street, and the art teacher rigged up a window that dropped a giant crack when hit by Soapy's rock. 

Barry (Cihan) holding American flag.

Even the art department had challenges with my production. Barry, another of my students, worked with the art teacher on the staging, but he could not understand the entire concept. Barry only knew "play" as a verb, so he had to be convinced that we would not be "playing" a game on stage.  




These super Chinese teens put forth a great effort, despite the

Classes averaged 50-60 students.
inabilities of the director. More than once I would forget myself and launch into a lengthy directive, only to discover them bleary-eyed and oblivious to my rambling English. They were patient with me and endlessly graceful. 


But this marvelous New Year's Eve memory had a sequel almost two decades later.

 In 2018 Allen, our Soapy, now in his early 30's and working for a Chinese corporation, came to Texas on business. He remembered his American "Spoken English" teacher at the Fuzhou Foreign Languages School who talked about Pennsylvania, her home. A few emails to old schoolmates, and Allen located me and made the trip up from Texas to visit in my home ... 

Nearly two decades and half a world later,

Soapy showed up On Layton. 

Allen, "Soapy," On Layton almost 2 decades later.


... And he came with a message. He hadn't forgotten the "Soapy" of Fuzhou. Soapy, he said, had changed his life and given him the incentive he needed to develop courage, confidence, and personal strength to step out and speak up in his school and career. Allen knew if he could perform as the lead in a play, speaking a foreign language as a teen, he could do most anything with his life ... and he has. 

An unexpected event brought success and hope to our main character. 

New Years are like that. They can be the beginning of new grace and new hope. 

A satisfying resolution worthy of O. Henry ...

and characteristic of our Sovereign God

who loves happy endings.

Barry (Cihan), my English student/scenery constructor,
first visited On Layton in 2019. Working with Amazon in 
Washington D.C., he has traveled the world with his company
and came to Layton several times...
He speaks marvelous English.


*Note to readers: My memory did not retain all of these details. During my year teaching in China, these specifics were related in emails to friends in the US. Those letters were my memory source. Other Chinese students have also come to visit On Layton. Miss Fang and I have visited several times since 2002 in China. Some of my Chinese colleagues continue to teach at Fuzhou Foreign Languages School.

*Regarding student names: With 50-60 students in a class, remembering Chinese names and pronouncing them correctly would have been a task worthy of Demosthenes. So every student chose an English name, usually of the American English strain. We had five Michael Jordans in one class, known as Jordan 1, 2, etc. We even had an Orange. Some students still use their English names.