Recently, I was invited to a high school graduation. The sophomores I’d taught a couple years ago were now graduating. Of all the students I’d taught in China, I was the closest to this group. I’d fulfilled my 10-month contract, but I hadn’t been asked back. I was disappointed, because this was the best school I’ve taught at here in China. I never really got a good reason as to why I hadn’t been asked back for a second year, and I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. I might even get in trouble for asking. So I packed my bags and moved on, spending two years struggling and bouncing from school to school until ending up at a university (for now)

Spring Break, Prom, Graduation!

      I kept in touch with some of the students; we’d reach out to each other time to time. I realized they would graduate this year and asked one of the students when the ceremony was, but true to form, he didn’t know. Chinese planning is a shock compared with American planning. Before the school year even starts in the United States, seniors know when the important dates are: winter vacation, spring break, prom, graduation. In China, you’re told at almost the last minute.

Someone in HR at my old school reached out to me and asked me to come. I was able to get a train ticket, although it meant waking up at an insane hour on a Saturday in order to get there. I ended up being late anyway, and later I regretted it. I’d missed the photo-taking session, because my fat ass (and bigger stomach) demanded we eat at a Guangzhou restaurant known for its authentic U.S. southern food. When I arrived, the ceremony was in swing.

That’s okay. I’d been to the school’s graduation ceremony a couple years before, and I hadn’t really missed any of the good stuff. Shortly after I was seated, I spotted a former student. I snapped a picture of him, then sent it via WeChat. He couldn’t believe I was there, and I told him where I was seated and we exchanged smiles.

It’s Where You End Up

I was asked to make a quick video for the graduating seniors. The videos would be played during the ceremony. And they were fun to watch.

The principal, who was there when I was there, was leaving and he had an amusing speech about his experiences, and the class. I was reminded this current crop of students had the lowest PSAT (or similar) score in the school’s history. Everyone seemed concerned, but I wasn’t. I knew well from experience it isn’t where you start, it’s where you end up.

The segues between speeches featured musical interludes from The Magnificent Seven and Star Wars. No Pomp and Circumstance March Number One here.

Tiananmen Square

They showed the videos after the speeches, and I was curious to see what the response would be to mine. I never really knew how the kids felt about me, even though I knew at least one was upset I wasn’t returning, and another one had said I was his favorite teacher that year. Hearing that made it all the more puzzling I wasn’t invited back. In a weird twist in what has been a strange employment experience in China, the day I was told to look for a new job I was offered a part-time position at the school. I was already working six days a week (prepping on Sunday) and I really didn’t want to work more, but the job was presented to me in a way which made me felt that I had to take it—or else. I felt if I turned down the job, I wouldn’t get the all-important letters of recommendation and work permit cancellation letters. It felt weird, a sort of, “We’re not asking you back because you’re not good enough, but we’re going to work you to death in the time you have remaining here” vibe. To add insult to injury, I was lied to about the working conditions and pay. Jolly! Working seven days a week was taking its toll on me, and combined with literally months of perpetually gray skies, I was comatose from late February until school ended. The first Sunday I was in Beijing, I went to Tiananmen Square and stood under the clearest blue skies I’d seen in months and soaked up the sun in 89 degree Fahrenheit temps. I couldn’t get enough of it.

We Love You, Gloria!

Anyway, I got ready with my smartphone to record the playing of my video. As soon as my face showed up on the floor to ceiling screen, cheers erupted, and a faint, “we love you Gloria” wafted through the auditorium. It felt good to be missed. It’s been decades since anyone cheered for me.

Then, the students lined up to receive their diplomas. Because the class was small, less than 130 students, a bit more attention could be focused on them. As each graduate was called, their photo portrait was flashed on the screen behind them with their English name, a list of schools they had applied to (and scholarships offered) appeared on the right, along with their school of choice at the very top of the list.

Graduations are triggering for me, as they say nowadays. These beautiful, brilliant kids—some had been offered six-digit scholarships—were off to the next adventure of their lives. I blinked away the tears as the students paraded across the stage to “The Champions” on repeat. High school was miserable for me, an experience that I unfortunately never really got over. Like your typical torture victim, I didn’t care what came next, I just wanted the pain to stop. My grades weren’t terrible, but no one really thought I was college material. If only I’d had the guts to scream at administration, my teachers, my fellow asshole classmates that I WAS intelligent—I just was too busy trying to survive being bullied in order to care about my grades. I wondered who or what I could have become if things had been better—if I’d had a mentor. If I had parents who really pushed me grade-wise and put things in perspective for me. If I’d gotten tutoring. If I’d gotten support and encouragement for my writing. If I had better self-esteem. If I’d gone to a better school. If I’d developed a fuck you attitude and not been afraid to fight—physically as well as psychologically. If, if, if.

Then it was over.

Going to the Prom?

The students and parents mingled around in the auditorium, with a few students asking me if I was going to the prom. I’d never been asked before in my life. Until now.

Fuck it—why not?

While I was there, the end of the school year was watered down by Covid—a few kilometers down the road there had been an outbreak. So the last couple weeks of school were online, cellphones and webcams rigged up so students could be monitored at home while they took their exams. I sat by idly on my bed as I watched my students take the exam I’d written for them. There was to be one more class meeting, to discuss the exam and to say goodbye, but it never happened.

The school year ended strangely, quietly. I gave back my Macbook and collected a bit of money owed to me by the school. I spent a few weeks in Guangzhou checking out Chimelong Paradise and a few of the wholesale places before moving to Beijing.

I felt weird about attending the prom, and when HR asked me if I was planning to go, I asked if I could answer later. I’m uncomfortable around large groups of people. But I wanted to talk to the students and catch up with them. The prom was held in the same building as the administration/educators dinner; it was just a matter of heading downstairs after I’d finished eating. Turns out I felt more awkward with the adults than I did with the kids. I wasn’t sure exactly what to say to the adults anyway. I’d tried to avoid my former boss, but he spent a few minutes telling me when he told the students he thought I might be coming back for graduation, they were thrilled. That was nice to know. I didn’t get any passive-aggressive remarks about my teaching ability, which was also nice.

I’m not sure what the students had to eat (I don’t think there was an official dinner for them) but they were arriving with clothes and makeup in tow. I got stopped several times to have my picture taken with them. I got to chat with several students on a nice patio area that overlooked an upscale shopping and dining area.

I Had Missed Them…

I was happy to discover about 20-25 students would be at the same handful of schools. If things got tough, they could talk to a former classmate. And also, they would have some upperclassmen who had graduated a year or two before to talk to as well. One of my students who always worried about her grades got into UCLA. She also said she hoped to see me in the United States. There is a chance that I might be able to attend her college graduation too, which would be astonishing, especially for someone like me.

It was fun to see the students get a little tipsy. A student who told me she’d come out after I’d left asked me if I hated her now, and I said of course not. She’s going to a great school in a liberal part of the United States, and I hope the experience will be wonderful for her.

I told the students I had missed them. I’d also told at least one student that I was extremely disappointed I’d not been asked back just six weeks into my job. I confessed it made the rest of the school year difficult. It was nice to have plenty of time to look for a job, but things being the way they are in China, nine months to look for a teaching job is overkill. The school would have done better to tell me they weren’t asking me back for another year at the end of February. My morale would have been better, and it’s only taken me two weeks tops to land a job in China. My classroom might have been more interesting-looking in terms of décor if they’d waited to tell me I was toast. Knowing I’d be leaving in a few months made me not want to spend very much on fancying up the classroom. As it was, I’d downloaded covers of classic and modern classic literature, took them to a print shop to enlarge, them, then tacked them up around the room. It cost maybe $2 or 3, and I wasn’t about to spend more.

The Kids are Alright

Eventually, the prom wound down. I got one last picture then got a Didi back to my hotel.

The next morning was a disaster—I’d missed my train, and if I’d been smart enough to really check my schedule, I could have avoided the stress of June 18 and actually had as much fun as the night before. But instead, I messed it up. I’m trying to look for the bright side in things, and after returning to my hotel, soaking with rain and sweat, I got my old room back, cranked up the a/c, showered, and watched YouTube until I finally fell asleep, angry and exhausted. Thankfully, I didn’t have any classes the next day, so I was able to get some rest, eat a spectacular lunch, and arrive at the correct train station on time for my journey home.

I’m so glad I got to see “my kids” again. The lowest-scoring class in the school’s history is headed off to college, every last one of them. Some to the U.K. most to the U.S., one heading to Hong Kong.

The kids are alright. I knew they would be.