Last week’s diary assignment for my twelve-year-olds at Shane English Yuxi was to write an essay about what they would do if they won the lottery. There were some sweet, some savage, and some surprising responses.

From Kevin:

If I won the lottery, I will have a lot of money, so it’s hard to say what I want to do. Maybe I will help people who need help. I will give most of money to my parents. I think they gave me life, so they deserve it.

From [name redacted, a female student]:

First, I’d buy a big mansion because my mother loves mansions. Next, I’d buy a forest, because my father wants to be an explorer. . . . Finally, I would go to Japan and kill the Japanese president.”

From Ruby:

I think this is a difficult question because usually the lotteries I’ve won were ¥1 or ¥10. In my view, ¥10 isn’t small. So my plan is ¥3 is to buy some crisps, cookies, and milk; ¥4 can buy some magazines; ¥1 can buy a pen; and another ¥2 I will save in a box. Then I can buy cookies again!

From Ewan:

I would buy a mansion, a good robot, and a big bed. On Sunday, my robot would become me and go to Shane English School so I can continue to sleep.

From Nancy:

If I won the lottery, first I’d buy a big mansion. Next I’d travel to Europe to see the Arc de Triomphe, The Eiffel Tower, and Big Ben. After that, I’d write a novel. Next I’d send mother and father to a tropical island so they can swim every day. Then last, I’d give away the rest of my money.

From Windays:

First, I’d buy a mansion and an Aston Martin. Then I’d get a nanny to cook dinner and do my homework. They I’d buy a computer. I’d play computer games every day. Then I’d drive around the world. My life would be very different.

I had a strange intercultural exchange recently with one of my Shane English Yuxi students and his father.

At the end of every class, we do an “exit drill,” which means that the students line up and have to ask or answer something before leaving the classroom. In my class of twelve-year-olds, we were getting ready for the end-of-term test. One of the items on the oral exam is “Ask the teacher a question.” So to prepare them, the exit drill for my class was to ask me a question. I told them they could ask me ANY question they wanted.

Michael, my strongest student, asked me “What would you do if your girlfriend died?” I was a little taken aback since

a) I don’t have a girlfriend; and
b) it was a slightly morbid question.

“I’d cry,” I said. I thought nothing of this Q&A after that.

Later that afternoon, I was very surprised when Michael and his father came to see me. The father speaks English, had overheard our exchange at the exit drill, and was very upset with his son. He made Michael apologize several times. He explained to me that in China, such a question is like a curse–sort of like “may your girlfriend die!”

Michael also gave me a written apology which read:

Dear Jim,
I’m sorry I said “What would you do if your girlfriend die” to you this morning. Now I know it’s a curse sentence. So, from now on, I’ll never say the curse sentence to anyone because I want to be a good student.
Your student,
Michael

The father is a real good guy, and I think he was a little perplexed about why I wasn’t upset with his son. From the note, though, it seems that Michael didn’t know this was a “curse sentence.” And it certainly went over my head.

From my youngest students to my oldest, this has been a good week at Shane English Yuxi. Below is a photo (taken on a TA’s mobile phone) of some of my kindergarteners. This class began about three months ago and it was rough at the beginning; there was at least one child crying every week. But now that we’ve all gotten to know each other, they are probably my most beloved kids.

At the other end of the age spectrum, my 12 year olds continue to amaze me with their insight and abilities. This was what one of my students wrote in response to an assignment to write an essay using the target language “you should”:

Students these days often have a lot of worries. Sometimes, they have problems with their schoolwork and sometimes with their friends. What can they do about this? Problems and worries are normal in life. I think talking to someone will help a lot. Unless we talk to someone, we’ll certainly feel worse. If you talk to your parents, they will really understand. It’s best not to run away from problems. If you have a problem, you should talk to someone. Just like putting a plaster on a cut.

Yesterday at Shane English Yuxi was the last day of class for my students in the first half of their first level of primary study. About half of the 14 students in this class have been with me since my summer Phonics class. Since they were my first-ever Chinese students, I feel especially proud of them. All of them passed the course with solid marks and now move on to the second half, which I will be teaching as well. These students are not only bright and enthusiastic–they are nice. They are nice to me, nice to my teaching assistant, Lillian, and nice to each other. This makes teaching them a joy.

Yesterday my eleven year olds finished the last class of the course. They’ve been with me this whole semester and have been a great group. I met with their parents and was happy to learn that all of them will be back with me for the next course.

One of the most common mistakes my students make in speaking English isn’t their fault. They’re just doing what they’ve been taught. But they’ve been taught wrong.

I call my battle to correct their errors The War on Pink-uh.

Nearly all of my students have learned the Roman alphabet and the basics of phonics by the time they start studying with me. Their well-meaning teachers have taught them “T sounds like tuh; P sounds like puh; and K sounds like kuh.” My students have learned these sounds very well–but unfortunately, they have learned them as voiced consonants, as I have written here. Little wonder, then, that as we work through the color words, we get hung up on pink:

Me: What color is it?
Student: It’s pink-uh.
Me: Pink.
Student: Pink-uh.
Me: No, not Pink-UH. Pink!
Pause
Student: Pink-uh
Me: [facepalm]

I spend more time trying to fix pronunciation of that word than any other. Oddly, my students rarely say “black-uh,” probably because it doesn’t require them to put two consonant sounds together.

So please, all you preschool and kindergarten teachers out there: T is not tuh, P is not puh, and above all, K is not kuh. Turn off the voice on those, would you?