No culture shock attended my arrival in Changchun, the capital of Jilin Province, over a decade ago, to accept a job as a foreign English teacher at Changchun Normal University. The fuzzy intention was to stay just a year, maybe two, to address my desire to "learn to teach better" and to appease a deeper, broader yearning for "something different," and then return to the US.
What I did experience, though, was daily exhilaration and gratitude for the chance to see this remarkable nation from the inside— a pedestrian's-eye view— rather than relying on reports from a sometimes tunnel-visioned Western news establishment or on the self-assured blurtations of online "pundits," a sizeable swath of whom probably have never strayed from their comfortable mindset nor ventured outside their country of origin.
Throughout my stay in this enchanted land, I've met and learned from hundreds of diligent, witty students. I've had guidance and encouragement from resourceful, supportive colleagues and administrators. I've crossed paths with countless Chinese citizens who, I think, despite my weakness in spoken Mandarin, have rarely directed a disparaging word my way.
Nowadays, more than ten years onward, I do not, alas, wake up each morning with the same sense of excitement, near-disbelief, and anticipation that informed my first few semesters here. Not every jaunt now into one or another borough of Changchun is festooned with adrenalin and the inertia of discovery, a frisson that used to propel me for hours.
Yet no day transpires during which I don't feel blessed by my tiny role in China's pageant of revival: the university youngsters and professionals with whom I interact exude infectious confidence in the future and moderated pride in what their homeland has accomplished and what it is working toward.
What seems a long time ago but isn't— in the spring of 2017, my mother visited me for the first two months of the semester, and some of her observations dovetailed with mine: she was impressed by how knowledgeable the students were regarding China's long history, as well as by their energy and enthusiasm in the classroom.
She remarked on the habit of people in Changchun to make use of almost everything— from secondhand cardboard to dandelion greens— and on their general entrepreneurial vitality and high work ethic. I especially remember her expressing delight and amazement at the variety and quantity of fresh produce in the campus shops: the weather was still often wintry, but the vegetables and fruit here were fresher and more plentiful than what might be found in some US locations.
Everywhere one looks as one walks through the city, women and men are working hard at really hard jobs— tasks that sometimes make my back hurt just to see— and while some of them seem mystified when I utter a badly toned "Nǐ hǎo," many of them abandon their stern gaze, and nod, smile widely, and return the greeting, some throwing in an amiable "hello".
The triumphant overflow in this city the last several years of personally-owned automobiles mirrors the explosion, generally, in wealth among China's populace that one frequently reads about. The elevation of tens of millions from poverty to self-sufficiency attests to the purposeful unity and shared humanity that has been exhibited recently during the pandemic.
One hopes that this attitude of solidarity and mission might be translatable internationally, that perhaps China can evince a way forward that provides universal lessons in sustained and sustainable progress without self-destructive and other-punishing consequences.
A pet platitude of mine (asserted elsewhere more elegantly by others) — that people are basically the same around the world — has been fairly well petrified during my time in China: The vast majority of us just want a fair shot; we want children to have more opportunity than we have had; we want to engage in daily passions and mundane dreams alike without interference.
So, after about a dozen years, now weddedly blissful and still learning how to conjure and conduct fruitful classroom sessions, I am a different person than when China first welcomed me. I have not yet departed, not yet returned permanently to the US, where, following such a lengthy absence, I will need to reinvent my "Made in China" self. I have had, and continue to have, the thrill and fun of participating — albeit in a miniscule way — in the miracle of the Middle Kingdom's renewal and ascendency, back to where it belongs in the global order.
This country's rise was, of course, well underway before I ever landed at Changchun International Airport, and I have just sort of hitched an extended ride on the fast train toward tomorrow and rocket ship into the unexplored that is China. The future is never guaranteed, certainly, but I hope to stay on a little longer and see a little more clearly where we're all headed.
