Baci Abroad Blog
Twinkle Twinkle Little Lights Bookstore
In a small, independently owned bookstore near the fancy Hilton, classical music plays, twinkling as softly as the lights strewn from the exposed ceiling above me. An air conditioning unit whooshes quite loudly nearby, sounding like the wind at the top of the Andes mountains that I used to climb in Ecuador. Aside from these sounds, and the large trucks rushing down the street outside the door, the bookstore is quiet. Seated at eclectic desks, men and women work around me: reading, writing, and scrolling on their phones.
When I am in need of a feeling of home, of books, of good tea and coffee, of a centered space, I come to what I have coined Twinkle Twinkle Little Lights Bookstore. It is a place that folds you in, envelopes you in its sea of Ernest Hemingway, Michael Crichton, Bill Bryson, Tom Clancy, Jodi Picoult, Agatha Christie, and Jane Austen. It is the Just Right Goldilocks nook where when I walk in, any internal disorder I feel is somehow pacified by the external disorder of the messy bookshelves. I can read, and write, and think, and work in peace at Twinkle Twinkle Little Lights Bookstore.
I have lived for five years in Shekou, a comfortable bubble of Shenzhen, and somehow it was only within the last few months that I discovered the little store. As an expat who has established a routine for a sense of safety and sanity, I have missed many little gems hidden in plain sight. It has been in co-teaching a 9th and 10th grade elective course at Shekou International School, alongside my friend and colleague Eddie Bruce, that I have stepped off my well-trodden daily paths to learn more about my host community.
In March, a small group of our Into the 'kou students learned of the bookstore and decided to interview the owner and learn more about his story.
As I watched my students engage with Yangcong, the owner, I appreciated his easy demeanor and his soft expressions. He seemed a bit self-conscious to be on camera, and there was a sweetness to this shyness.
As we were leaving the bookshop at the end of the interview, I smiled and did my best to use the little Mandarin I have acquired to say, "I will be back this weekend."
Over the following weeks, Yangcong, his loving partner Dong Dong, and I took to one another, and so it was that one day I received an invitation to join the two for lunch at the bookstore.
Prior to the lunch, we had shared few words. In lieu of them, we had shared smiles and warm and open vibrations. It was in this everyday space with Yangcong and Dong Dong, over a meal of vegetables, pork, and rice, that I felt a beautiful intimacy between us.
As we lunched, Dong Dong and I picked up conversation as Yangcong was keen to listen on. I learned that Yangcong opened the book store six years ago, hoping that he might invite more people to escape the lure of our devices and engage with the stories from near and far, written by contemporary and canonical, and well-known and lesser-
After running the store essentially on his own for several years, Yangcong's path crossed with Dong Dong's in what I want to believe was a moment of serendipity. At the time she was working a high-powered, stressful job, though one approved of by her family. As Dong Dong and I spoke about societal and familial pressures, she reflected, “For me, I can only stick to my pace." While she spoke in a soft and matter-of-fact tone, I could also appreciate that the decision to stick to her own pace was likely not an easy one.
As Dong Dong now helps to run the bookstore, she also finds bits of time to study ancient Chinese history and philosophy. "We think things have changed, but they haven't," she says, gazing at me momentarily, then turning her eyes towards the shelves of books to her left. I am not entirely certain of all of the reflections wrapped up for her in these words, but I imagine she finds both comfort and frustration in the way that overtime, much of human nature and culture is wont to stay the same.
In deciding to break with her original path, to follow her own heart, rather than the desires that her family had for her, Dong Dong notes that she lost one kind of freedom to gain another. She works every day as the responsibilities of the bookstore are divided between she and Yangcong, thus her free time has been diminished. At the same time, she has found more peace in her current life than in her former.
While Yangcong has been observing, and listening, and then slowly moving about to clear our dishes, he offers a few words now: “You may not have physical freedom, but you can always be free at heart.”
These words strike me in a particular way today as I have become increasingly restless in the face of Covid-era restricted travel. So I sit a bit longer with Yangcong's wisdom. I contemplate the freedom I have to love, to live vicariously through books, to laugh, to run, to connect with new souls, and to sip the fine green tea in front of me today.
Namaste, Yangong and Dong Dong. The light in me bows to and honors the light in both of you.
On-site School Resumes: A Week in Review
I came to this space tonight to tell you all the things about what it has been like to re-start school in the time of Covid-19, but I have been temporarily distracted by my small-batch, (artisanal ) ketchup. I have been cooking my way through Allison Day's Whole Bowls this year, and this week I decided to try a recipe I was rather skeptical of -- there wasn't even a photo on the page for Brunch Bowls with Chickpea Turnip Hash, Asparagus, Eggs, and Homemade Ketchup.
Turns out, cookbook pages without photos do note denote crappy recipes. Sometimes it's nice to live alone because there is no one to see me licking the last of the ketchup from my bowl tonight. I feel like Grandma and her porkchop bone -- let me set aside all manner of decorum and enjoy the shit out of this.
Before there was a small batch of homemade ketchup this week, there were four days of in-person instruction at Shekou International School for our grades 9, 10, and 11. I noted in my last post that I did not process the news of reopening with open arms -- at first. I was deeply skeptical about bringing students back into classrooms in the face of so many protocols that impede our ability to engage in what we know to be the best pedagogy. The week ended up turning out notably better than I had anticipated, but our new (ab)normal is interesting ...
We used to be greeted by our administrators when we entered the school; now we are greeted by the police force. This felt unsettling on the first day, but the officers were there to protect students from any too-curious passerby who wanted to take photos, or in the case that anyone would want to bar us from a smooth start. All went well as we got settled into the amphitheater on Monday.
We used to huddle close together in this space, and now we sit on our designated seat 1.5 meters apart. This was possible as each grade arrived separately for a 2-hour re-orientation Monday. A number of our students are still out of the country or have decided to continue distance learning from their homes in Shenzhen.
It used to be that when our students entered our classroom we offered them wide smiles. Now we smile with our eyes.
I used to have two classes of Grade 10 English at two different times of the day. Now I have two Grade 10 English classes at the same time. I stand in front of one class, beam myself through video into the classroom next door, and bring students outside of school into the classroom through a Microsoft Teams video. I expected this to be something of a mess; in reality, it worked quite smoothly.
I did miss the side-by-side writing conferences that I used to have. While the students worked on their writing in the classroom and in their homes, I had to maintain our physical distancing protocol, so now I offer feedback in OneNote.
Students used to play foosball and air hockey at lunch; now they talk across long tables, using chopsticks to exchange their pieces of sushi.
We have a wonderful music program led by Mr. Bob Krebs and Ms. Vanessa Coetzee. Students used to play their instruments in music class. Now they work on music theory as most are not allowed to practice their instruments because #masksallday.
At SIS, students used to play musical chairs throughout the day, generally sitting where they want in each class. Now students carry the same chair around to each class all day. This is not a joke. These chairs are disinfected each night by our diligent maintenance staff.
In a video storytelling class that I co-teach with Ms. Sophie Delaporte and Mr. Edward Bruce, we used to go Into the 'kou to gather footage from our community in order to elevate voices often unheard. Now students go into their computers, watching videos created by individuals rather than small groups. We are awfully proud of the stories these students have been telling this semester as they interviewed their own family members to tell the stories of A Day in the Life of Corona from around the world. You can watch some of these expertly crafted videos at our site Into the 'kou to hear more about the experiences of different families.
At the end of the day, when the students have all gone home, our maintenance crew used to tidy up the room. Now they place UV lamps in each room and sanitize each tabletop.
Seniors used to have all the pomp and circumstance in celebration of their hard-earned graduation. Now they are happy to have a photo together. We do not yet know if SIS will be able to hold any kind of ceremony, but I am beaming with pride as I look at these cool kids in this photo. Go to the limits of your longing, seniors. Your longing.
I used to take mindful moments to gaze out of the classroom window at the boats and the palm trees and the South China Sea. And now, I still do.
Life in the Time of Corona continues to be a wild ride for the world. Reflecting on the week from my quiet apartment now, what I feel in my body is contentment that I am here, in Shenzhen, with the opportunity to continue, and then close the year with my students, in person. The feeler of all feels, gratitude for my entire SISrocks community, here and abroad, is filling my chest and my eyes.
We can do hard things. We got this.
School re-opens in the time of Covid-19
I am sitting at my kitchen table tonight, sipping San Pelegrino out of my blush pink cup that says, "Sisterhood is Powerful" on one side, and my nickname "SheWolf," on the other. I am also licking a spoon that I keep dipping into a huge wooden bowl of cupcake batter. The batter, unfortunately, tastes more like baking soda than it does rich chocolate. But I keep scooping into my mouth anyway.
I'm using poor tasting batter and bubbly water to try to assuage my melancholic feelings. I could look worse, I know, but I could also be in Vietnam with five of my best friends, as we had planned months ago. My friends at SIS and I were supposed to fly into Ho Chi Minh city tonight to meet up with Ceci as she now teaches at South Saigon International School. The tickets were purchased, the Airbnb was booked, the out-on-the-town outfits were imagined. And then there stayed Covid-19. The airline canceled the tickets, the owner of the Airbnb messaged regretfully, and we put our Rothy's and skinny jeans back in our closets. And then messaged each other throughout the entire day, working to reach across many miles to still hold one another in a warm space.
Just ... my heart ... as I look at our joy at being together.
Ceci's words on a photo of us on her Instagram today says what I want to say just the way I want to say it: "Tonight in some alternative timeline in the universe, these beauties are soon landing at HCMC airport and starting what will be an unforgettable weekend together. I’m jealous of those versions of us, the ones who will get to physically reconnect, laugh, cry, hold each other so tightly that it might even be felt on our side of the universe. I might not really know whether time bends this way or how, but I know for certain that in this timeline, we will be together again someday and it will be all the sweeter. I love you ladies."
Currently, three of us in this photo are in the Americas, two of us are in Shenzhen, and one of us is in Vietnam. When the borders re-open, three of us will be in Shenzhen, one of us will be in Portugal, one of us will be in South Korea, and one of us will be in Vietnam, as we all embark on another year of international teaching, but with more physical distance between us. We will plan another trip to see one another, but it's so hard not to be able to set a date.
I think, along with the rest of the world, my ability to flow with the uncertain and ambiguous continues to hit turbulent times. Last week, I felt consumed by anger. My anxiety was flowing. The centered spaces I know I am capable of creating were rocking. I walked into my therapy session and told Tracy I just wanted to throw things. She kindly asked if I chose to do so during our time together, that perhaps it could just be a pillow for now.
Part of what had me feeling so unsteady was the notification that we will be resuming (in-person) school on Monday, April 27th.
I want very much to see my students. Zoom classes with them have often been the light in my day, and bringing their brightness back into the classroom is something that we have all been waiting for -- but in our context of international teaching in Shenzhen, school will resemble little of what it did before.
As Covid-19 hit Guangdong province during Chinese New Year, many of us were traveling (though not me) during this holiday. When my colleagues learned that we would proceed after break with distance learning, and they began to process their fears about the virus, understandably many chose to stay outside the country. Many also chose to leave to return back to their passport countries, seeking solace in the places most familiar. Like all of us international wanderlusters, Covid traveled too. All around the world. And China closed its borders to foreigners, so my fellow teachers and friends are unable to return.
At present, we have 40% of our SIS staff in Shenzhen, while about 70% of our student population is present. Staffing is one of many of the challenging factors we are facing.
The SIS community is like a family. When my students came in today to get their testing for Covid-19 so they can be cleared to come to school Monday, some of them automatically came to hug me, and I leaned towards them to embrace them too. This breaks the rules, though, of physical distancing. It is not natural to keep such distance between ourselves and others, especially when those others are our good friends and colleagues and dear students.
My class is discussion based; I generally gather my students in a tight-knit circle on beanbags to discuss the texts that we have read. With the new Covid protocols, our classrooms feel a bit more sterile, which I guess is the point ... but it feels so strange.
Everyone will be required to wear the mandatory masks inside school walls. Except, perhaps, when you're taking a sip of your coffee.
There are signs everywhere around school that we are still living in the time of Covid-19. While Shenzhen has the virus under control, the wispy Covid ghost permeates the air.
This new wastebasket is for throwing away masks halfway through the day as a second mask must be donned after lunch. At lunch, students will not be able to sit facing one another, or near one another.
When staff and students walk into school each day, we will all get a fever check. If anyone has a fever, a room has been designated for isolation. The CDC will then come in to further inspect the individual and tell us what to do next.
It is due to all of these restrictions that I have sat with such a heaviness in the past week.
And then I had several conversations that helped me to slowly shift my perspective. In telling a friend how different the energy was in the building, he said, "Yeah, but you'll bring your awesome energy and the kids will feel that too." His words hit a chord in me; they caused me pause for reflection. The students will feed off of our energy; I have seen this play out countless ways in my classroom, for darker or lighter.
Isom's words also made me think of what I had heard in a recent episode of Brené Brown's podcast Unlocking Us. The episode, entitled "Permission to Feel," welcomed Yale professor Dr. Marc Brackett into a conversation on emotional literacy. In the episode, the two talked about the way we mirror one another's emotions. And so it went that I thought more and more about what this means for the energy and emotions that I bring into my classroom on Monday.
In meeting my students wherever they are at, I plan to be honest. To feel all the feels with them. I would also like to engage them in discussions that, rather than begin with "How are you doing right now," start with "What's something that you miss that surprises you? What's something you don't miss that you thought you would?" as well as "What's giving you hope right now?" and "What do you hope we learn to take away from this experience?" I want us to honor our shadowy emotions, while also giving voice to the strength that continues to exist in our SIS community.
In the midst of this scene, as students were lined up for their Covid-19 throat swab, my student Yijoo, a junior in my Language and Literature class, expressed how excited she was to be returning to school on Monday. While it was clear that school wasn't just how we left it in January, Yijoo was quite unfazed by the new protocols. The smile that I could detect beneath her mask because I saw it in her eyes ... it gave me life today.
It will feel different and awkward and frustrating to have to abide by all of these restrictions for the remainder of the year. And SIS will continue to be a space full of light and energy and caring individuals that walk through the entryway with smiles on our faces, that you'll see by the crinkles at our eyes.
So, I am, I'm really ready for you, kiddos. Let's get our learn on, together again.
Reporting from Shenzhen, China: Work and Brain Breaks
I am back at school today and, as it's been several hours of very quiet work, I was just inspired to blast the Higher Love remix over my classroom speakers. It got a little shimmy of reaction ...
Day two of Microsoft TEAMS and OneNote e-learning had me tracking down a good number of students with well, hello, I didn't see you on the chat yesterday, can I offer you further assistance in getting started? I am going to have to come up with a strategy for my own work time. My brain almost short-circuited this afternoon as I had emails and notifications coming in at one time from students in four different classes. Learning curves.
Learning curves do call for brain breaks, and a little sweat session is a great way to refresh the synapses ... or something like that (I don't speak Science fluently). The gyms are closed here in Shekou, but on the 4th floor of our school is a mini-gym equipped with everything we needed, from TRXs to weights to two rowing machines, for a Dirty 30 workout.
After 30 minutes of 45 seconds of HIIT and weights and 15 seconds to rest intervals, we were ready ... to go to lunch. Back at HH Gourmet where the best bagels are sold, I had a large "yoga" omelet. Most restaurants are not serving salads or foods that are uncooked. It's smart, I think.
I have continued to be able to get fresh produce to cook at home.
In Shekou, we are privileged to have Lora, a friendly and community-minded woman who opened a small storefront to bring us organic fruits and vegetables.
Signing off tonight to head into the kitchen to cook up my fresh veg and a halibut steak -- drizzling the BaciBowl with Allison Day's pumpkin seed sauce.
Love and light from Shenzhen,
Jamie
Reporting from Shenzhen, China: Back to School ... Online
It is nearly 4 o'clock in Shenzhen. I am just wrapping up my school day -- a very quiet, but productive day of delivering curriculum and feedback to my students on online platforms.
Because with Google and China #itscomplicated, Shekou International School uses Microsoft Office as our collaborative learning space. I have spent a good part of my day monitoring and dropping into book club discussions happening in Microsoft TEAMS.
I would prefer to be conversing with my students in person, but what was cool about today is that I could drop into multiple book clubs in the same hour; generally, during class time I can only sit with one book club each day.
I did start the day with some yoga, and then made it to a cafe near school in time to catch the halftime show.
This is the only part of the Superbowl that I understand. All hail Shakira and J. Lo!
I was getting sweet updates from Minnesota while I watched the halftime show, and I was excited to see that my two youngest nieces are working on being in the show in a few short years. #justaquickheadbang
After working for a bit at school, a few of my friends and I ventured out for lunch. There were two other individuals eating at a restaurant, Les 5, on what we call The Strip, the long line of massage places, restaurants, bars and pet stores that runs for several blocks adjacent to SIS.
Today's new norms: temperature checks when you walk into a restaurant and complimentary (read: mandatory) hand sanitizer at the same time. Later, when I walked into my apartment building, I stepped into the elevator to find that a box of tissues had been taped to the elevator wall. Convenient, I thought.
After school, I was blessed with almond cookies and almond bread baked by Alli, time to get down with my #wholebowls routine in my kitchen, and space to meditate.
Stepping away from devices now so that I can turn back to Ronan Farrow's Catch and Kill.
Good night, or good morning, certainly have a good day from me and the kitty who loves to live on my air purifier.
