The Classroom Curmudgeon: Summer Camp, Part II

The afternoon's very emotional events are fresh as I write this, too close to the raw nerve endings of memory. What should have been, and indeed what was a wonderful experience for the children, was marred by a twist of bad fortune that saw one of the girls get hit by a motorcycle, and the driver painfully hurt with a broken arm. While we are all “counting our blessings” that the situation was not worse—the girl is going to be sore for a while until her many scratches heal—we are also saddened and upset by this accident. Mrs. Tien is especially distressed, for not only was she responsible for the safety of other people's children, but the road accident happened too close in time to the loss of her beloved husband two months ago in a traffic accident.

The day was supposed to be a field trip of cultural exchange and fun, and while Ya-ling accompanied the injured at a nearby hospital, the rest of the group went on to the Amis Mataan Wetland conservation area. The accident took place at the former Taiwan sugar refinery in Guangfu, Hualien. The factory now serves as a theme park of sorts, and is most famous for its many varieties of ice cream. We spent almost an hour there, the adults enjoying browsing in small tourist-trap shops while the children fed the koi and rode on the ox-drawn carriage. Of course, everybody was hopped up on sugar from double scoops of ice cream, so it was pretty easy to have fun. We were in the process of gathering the children together when misfortune struck. And while the children generally seemed to enjoy their visit to the Amis wetland park, I think the adults were generally worried about what was happening at the hospital.

The Amis guides first introduced the different kinds of traps they use for fishing, all made of natural wood materials and designed according to the behavior of the fish, eels, crayfish and other targeted animals. The guides then took the children into a demonstration pond, and allowed them into the water to try their hand at catching the fish that would later end up on our dinner table. The children, of course, had a wonderful time splashing after the fish. That is when things started to become uncomfortable for me. Certainly the afternoon at the wetland was something of an eye-opener. Here I dare to express observations I perhaps ought not to, for I confess to being far from “the loop” vis-à-vis being informed of and aware of the socioeconomic and sociocultural circumstances of this small community of parents and children.

I did not come into this experience blindly, for I have visited in a similar capacity another aboriginal community and seen children "at play." That was in a mixed tribal area somewhat south of here, in a foothills community where my former students served a week as volunteer summer camp teachers. Indeed, the play of the children in this community is relatively peaceful compared to what I have seen before. Of course, I am speaking of the amount of physical violence the children seem to use as a form of expression. They seem to be always hitting, punching, sometimes slapping and even kicking, although this never develops negatively into actual harm.

This may also have been my first experience with hyperactive children, although I dare not suggest that what I witnessed this afternoon was Attention Deficit Disorder or any similar diagnosable emotional problem. What I saw was two young teens, perhaps 14 years old, who simply could not remain stationary or focused for very long. After our negative experience at the sugar factory, the antics of these two inseparable friends was enough to drive me toward frustration and anxiety. While they remained in control during the fish farm demonstration, they quickly grew bored as the activity drew to a close and headed off on their own. Where they headed to was a long boardwalk over a lake, and when they were done climbing, balancing and walking upon the banister of the protective fence, they raced as fast and as far as they could until they were pretty much out of my line of sight. Two girls then volunteered to race after them, to retrieve them.

Ironically, after the four fast-paced teens returned, the entire group headed down the boardwalk to view a special tree at the far end—providing the boys another opportunity to balance upon the banister again, only this time with the girls there prodding and poking and generally threatening to unbalance them and send them toppling into the water and mud. On the bus ride back home the boys could not remain in their seats, and continued to try to get my attention. They twice took off their shirts in an effort to impress anybody who was within visual range and able to be so taken by their thin frames. When they moved to the back of the bus where they were well out of everybody’s vision, they made their way to the first level of the bus into the luggage compartment, forcing the bus driver to slow the vehicle and threaten them with police intervention if they did not return to their seats and behave.

My heart was broken by witnessing these boys and their attempt to gain my attention. I learned that at least one of them came from a damaged family, a home life to which words like “abused” and “alcoholic” were applied. I also was told that one of the girls, in response to an inquiry about what her family eats every night, admitted that their regular meals largely consist of wild grasses plucked from nearby fields. Nor is their experience unique. One of the local store owners made the snide remark that the local villagers never buy groceries, only liquor.

What could I, or what can I do for any of these children? These boys obviously need an adult to admire them, encourage them, and respect them. But this is not my place for providing any of these emotional needs to them. And while she is herself hurting from her so-recent loss, Mrs. Tien is in no position to extend herself emotionally for these boys. And perhaps what these boys so desperately need is the guidance of a male, a father figure.

Part of my heartbreak also comes from my suspicion that these children—this community-has somehow gone astray and lost too much contact with or respect for their own cultural and traditional heritage. They have lost their sense of worth and pride. In some terrible way the racism and injustices of the society imposed upon the tribes by a century of colonial abuse at the hands of both the Japanese and the Nationalists has socially and culturally emasculated them. Have they become a community without hope, without vision, without a dream for the future of their children?

I cannot answer any of these questions or suspicions, nor is it my place to do so. What I can and should do at this point is look back on the day and wonder what benefit it might be for the children.

Obviously the opportunity to get away from home and enjoy something fun like the sugar plant was important, if only for allowing the younger children an experience of away-from-home enjoyment. For the older children they had another opportunity to both bond and let off some steam through the splashing and laughing.

At a cultural level the children saw positive role models from another tribe, adults who encouraged them toward healthy ideas of working with the natural world. Who knows what effect the words of the Amis will have upon these children, as the guides persuaded them toward group cooperation rather than individual competition? The Truku children had a chance to compare tribal languages and traditions, and of course taste tribal dishes both different from or similar to anything they may be familiar with. This cultural exchange was a delightful new experience, especially as they heard stories about how the matriarchal Amis culture operates.

Despite the sadness and anxiety of the unfortunate accident, and despite my personal sadness of having to become aware of the sadder circumstances in which these youngsters find themselves, I believe the field trip this afternoon was good for the children. But once again, the benefits may not be visible for years, even decades, as these children mature and hopefully find brighter futures for themselves.

The Classroom Curmudgeon: Summer Camp, Part I

The next few postings build upon my personal experience. Last week I stayed for three days to participate in the five-day Ai Tsai Jia Wan summer camp in Hualien County's Shou Lin Township. The camp is within the Jia Wan Community, an area dominated largely by the Truku Tribal people. The summer camp is run by a retired elementary teacher, Mrs. Tien, who with her recently deceased husband started this venture approximately five years ago. She actually opens her private classrooms to private groups that want to offer afternoon arts or teaching camps in the summers, while for the rest of the year she keeps the facilities available for evening tutoring. Her property is a safe place for the children to spend their after school hours.

My participation in this camp was supposed to be the teaching of Western Chess, but my actual usefulness seems to have nothing to do with my “teaching” skills. As I expected, it is my “physical presence” that is proving most interesting and perhaps valuable for the children. This may sound odd, but I suspect that the children of this area have few opportunities to interact with white persons. From past experience I expected and did not reject the children’s focus on my body. I did not discourage their interest in my body hair—my “fur” as I jokingly called it, referring to myself as a big monkey. I allowed them to stroke my arms, and even let one young girl experiment with pulling out a few hairs to see if it hurt. “A little,” I told her. Why was she surprised that I would feel pain? The children were also fascinated by my blue eyes, a feature of me that I often overlook.

Where is the benefit of this fascination with my physical difference, the markers of my European ancestry? Here I have to make a wild leap of logic, but I suggest that experiencing a “friendly foreign presence” at such a young age may, as these children mature, leave a mark on the subconscious that will someday allow a young adult student to enter the challenging university classroom with a greater sense of confidence. They may be less afraid of “foreign” teachers, less anxious about speaking with their international professors, less worried about using the English they've been taught. In the classroom setting they may be more willing to ask questions, to seek clarification, to challenge for the purpose of learning.

My excellent colleague Professor Chang Ya-ling wonders about my joy at the prospect of these children someday "challenging authority," for she sees authority as all-important in their tribal cultural community. I suggest that this is true, and while she says this authority is “military based,” I add that it is different from our Euro-American and Sino-Taiwanese notions of martial power. The indigenous concept of authority is based on respect, not sheer dominance through force. The tribal chief is respected for his abilities as a leader, a hunter, a provider, a protector.

Also, it is our hope that these children will enter the university system and complete the "educational goals" established for them by the system that none of us will ever have the power to change. We want them to achieve in learning new information and applying that knowledge toward expanding their own creativity and wisdom. This skill should then be brought back to their indigenous community to help lead the tribes into a positive future.

Of course, it was more than my physical presence that might have been of benefit to the children last night. Nor was I alone. Let me describe what I can of last evening's playtime with the children.

Simple Conversation. Being able to talk to the children in Mandarin was a good experience for me, and for them. The children were fascinated to learn that a person can have an animal surname: “fox.” They also asked me about the Chinese zodiac, what my nimal sign is:“ox.” They then asked me what was my favorite of the 12 animals: “ox.” And of course, I couldn't help going into my spiel about pigs as intelligent and even dangerous beasts, anything but cute. I told the children about my small menagerie of pets past and present, and that inspired one young lady to run home to retrieve her pet tortoise, which she found in the wild and has since done a surprisingly wonderful job of taming. She held it and stroked its head and even offered it the closest approximation of a kiss that could be mustered—even if it was more like a Maori nose-to-nose greeting.

One young boy was more bold in speaking to me, taking on the challenge of using English in his discussion. That's how I learned that his main academic interest is mathematics, a topic that he returned to later on in the evening as he tried to explain that in math he's at the top of his class.

Creative Endeavor. When my colleague Olivia Chang and I returned from dropping off one of our former students at the train station, we found that Amay—a doctoral student at Arizona State University—had pulled out the watercolors and blank paper, and put the children to work using the brushes that Olivia had given them. The child in me came to the surface . . . the child, or the frustrated artist? Either way, I sat down, took up a brush, and dived into the challenge of painting my own masterpiece. How funny, even just by playing with colors I revealed something about my personality: what started out as light and vibrant colors quickly eroded into shadows and dark colors. Compare my own vision of horror to the bright optimism in the children's paintings. Oh, what a troubled mind is at work within me. How encouraging it is to see that children still keep joy at the center of their hearts. They have much to teach us.

Games and Entertainment. Singing is always a challenging activity that helps break down barriers and get people comfortable with each other. But when I was asked for a “happy” song, I was silenced by my inability to recall the full lyrics of even one generally upbeat tune. Fortunately, two of the girls piped up with cheery songs in English, including an old standard that is obviously edited for learners: “If you're happy happy happy clap your hands....” I tried to give them the lyrics that got me through too many elementary school music lessons, supplementing with lots of “actions” like foot stomping, eye winking, head tapping, and the like. Later in the evening, two young boys were completely comfortable in performing for us a dance routine that they have been practicing and which they say will be ready by Friday afternoon. Their musical accompaniment was a cell phone.

This brings me to one note of importance. These children seem to have bonded into a strong group that functions without embarrassment. They know each other quite well, and are not inhibited by the shyness and embarrassment that I see in the interactions of other children in Taipei. Indeed, it would be rare to see children performing a dance routine in front of other children, no less their classmates. I have seen this comfort with public performance in my aboriginal student, Ruby.

Helianthus, just a little worn down after exploring the joys of childhood again.
After the dance performance, the children pulled our former student and fellow volunteer into their circle for a few games before heading home for the evening. Helianthus graduated last month, and will be heading to graduate school in September. She and her former classmate Phil were wonderfully generous in joining this summer camp. They are teaching the children how to edit video on the school's computers. Last night Helianthus was also teaching them that a “teacher” can also be a pretty fun kid to hang around with. Earlier in the day they had dragged her into a wild game of dodge ball, and in the evening it was a version of “musical chairs” and “truth or dare” that had her behaving like a child again.

This afternoon we will be taking the children on a field trip to visit the Amis tribe in Hualien’s Guan Fu Shan. This will be one of their few opportunities to see, and hopefully interact, with their neighboring tribal communities.
The afternoon's adventures await us...