Two of my classes are with the 15 (Chinese) English teachers. We meet in a conference room that is smaller than any room in our Cambridge house, around a table that is only slightly larger than our kitchen table. We sit, squished together, on wooden benches. There is no blackboard, so I have to put everything I might possibly want to write on a blackboard on the handouts I prepare for each class. The classroom that seemed so inadequate at the Community Learning Center now seems like a perfectly good space.

All but possibly one of the English teachers is younger than me. Apparently, once one's English reaches a high level, it is understood that she will leave academia for international business where the salaries are much higher. Very, very few of the English teachers have Master's Degrees, and the lack of advanced education is very common among Chinese professors. This is perhaps why my own Masters Degree is viewed with respect bordering on awe.

Once a week I teach the English teachers about American culture, and this is my favorite class. Through movies and foreign teachers, they are aware of many aspects of American culture, but their questions still surprise me. Since many American teachers who come to China are secretly missionaries, the Chinese seem to think that Americans are a much more religious people than I feel them to be. Many teachers, for instance, thought Americans routinely prayed before eating and consulted God for help in decision-making.

The most interesting class so far dealt with eating. I brought in something resembling a western place setting and explained dining customs. Their astonishment at some of our ways made me think, "Yeah, that IS pretty weird." For instance, when I discussed the free glass of water one could expect in restaurants, one teacher asked if it was hot or cold. "Cold," I replied, "probably with ice." Eyebrows shot up. "But not in winter," said the teacher. They were aghast when I assured them the water would be cold all year long; this is a very bad practice from the perspective of Chinese medicine.

One teacher told me that when she ate at a western restaurant in Kunming, they did not bring her any eating utensils so she did not know how to eat her sandwich and chips. (She ultimately insisted they bring her chopsticks.) When I said that we eat those foods with our hands, the teachers all thought this was most unsanitary. Since many public Chinese restrooms lack sinks, and all lack soap, they are right to be revolted.

A teacher who had once dined with an American couple told me he could not believe how polite they were with each other. "Every time the husband asked his wife to pass him something he said please and then thank you. Did they do this because I was there?" I told them American spouses normally say please and thank you to each other. The oldest English teacher then asked me, "Do you think such formality creates emotional distance in the relationship?" I didn't even tell them that American parents say please and thank you to their children!

I also teach the English teachers about interactive teaching techniques. First I discuss the technique, then they act as students and we do it together. Although they seem to enjoy being lively students, for the most part, they do not see how they can use these ideas. China has a long pedagogical tradition, and most of they are not eager to to deviate from it.

Chinese universities do not use the whole language approach to say the least. There are separate classes for reading, writing, speaking, and listening with minimal overlap. In a reading class, for instance, no matter how severe a mispronunciation a student might make when reading aloud, the teacher doesn't correct it. Classes are huge--60 -70 students--and there is great pressure for the students to pass national exams which focus primarily on reading and grammar. My speaking classes take place in the school's main classroom building. From the outside, it is not unattractive: six stories of white tiled walls and blue-tinted windows, with pretty nice landscaping. Inside is another story. Within the first five steps into the building, I am overwhelmed by a distinctive stench. One each floor, there are two sets of male and female restrooms. These rank among the worst 20% I've ever seen in China. Although China has a proud history of technological innovation, the architect for this building didn't get the concepts of flush or gravity, or anything else that might get rid of human waste. Consequently, by evening, when most of my classes take place, the toilets are truly appalling.

The walls throughout this building, like the walls of 90% of Chinese buildings be they residential, commercial, or official, are painted grass-green to about waist height, and then dingy white above that. Even though the building is not even ten years old, it looks as if it were battered during the Cultural Revolution. Whole sheets of paint are peeling away from walls pocked with what look like bullet holes (but surely aren't). Every wall is cracked and dusty. Broken windows don't get fixed, but maybe that air circulation is supposed to help with the smell problem. At night, the staircases and hallways are pitch black.

The classrooms have fluorescent lights and an entire wall of windows. Across the front of each room there is a platform, maybe 8 inches high, on which the teacher stands. Above the blackboard, big red characters exhort hard work and cooperation. The students sit in pairs on wooden benches at wooden desks, much like the ones at Sturbridge Village. Each bench is attached to the desk behind it, so we don't casually rearrange the furniture.

My speaking class for a mere 32 students is an optional class with a separate, hefty tuition fee. Therefore, only the most motivated students enrolled. I am thrilled with their enthusiasm and energy. There are all levels of undergraduates, two grad students, and a teacher. For most of the students, pronunciation is not as big a problem as word choice. For instance, the students say things like, "I invite you come to my room and have a seat," or "I think the music a bit beautiful, how do you?"

Most Chinese students like to have English names and we foreign teachers certainly encourage that in order to make our own lives easier. About 20% of my students already had names, although in the U.S. "Tomato" and "Wing" might seem like peculiar choices. My students' names are not as weird as some others I have heard: President General, Steel, Ice Cream, Wheatpuff. The remaining students asked me for English names and I was happy to oblige if only to keep them from giving themselves a name like Wheatpuff. I gave them a choice of names that sound something like their Chinese names. I always feel a bit like God when I bequeath these names: Belinda, Sherry, Max, Shelley, Leonard, etc. (Note to AKW: your namesake is one of the class stars.) I try to direct them to names they can actually pronounce. Unfortunately, if Liesl or Bella introduced themselves to you, you would think their names were Lisha and Berra. I sympathize with them because I routinely mess up the tones of my Chinese name.

My fourth and most challenging class is a speaking class for 20 or so non-English department teachers. Four or five of the teachers speak at a level that is appropriate for the curriculum. One older gentleman has never studied English at all, and the rest of the teachers studied it for a very brief time somewhere in the very distant past. I have separated the good speakers so that they are always paired with each other and I give them extra things to practice while I take the rest of the class at a snail's pace. The pace is not as big a problem as their excruciating shyness. The good speakers willingly model dialogues for the rest of the class, but none of the others will say so much as , "Hello, how are you?" in front of the class. This means I have to go around to each pair to hear them speak. And there is one teacher who simply refuses to open her mouth at all despite my insistence that her speaking will not improve by just listening to me. I really can't even assess her ability. Although I have always enjoyed doing two things at once, teaching Level 1 and Level 5 in the same class is not easy.

The nice thing about this class, is that these teachers are my neighbors so I often see them in our living compound. One day, as I was returning from market, I met one my older students, one of the most halting of speakers. To my amazement, she said hello (in English), asked how I was, and told me she was going to buy vegetables. I told her I had just bought vegetables myself, and wished her a nice lunch. She said thank you and goodbye. This is far more than she has ever managed in class, so I have hope!

In addition to teaching, not a week passes in which one of the English teachers does not invite me to his or her class to speak or observe. This has been fascinating, and has given me an understanding of the many obstacles they face. I have seen a lot of good teaching under difficult circumstances, as well as some extremely inept teaching. After I speak to the students, there is always a question and answer period. I am invariably asked my impression of China, but I also get some surprising questions such as "When do you think Taiwan will be reunited with China?" "What is the most popular fashion for American college students?" and "Why is it that foreigners prefer blue or black socks when we Chinese prefer white socks?"

Of course, deciphering fashion differences is easy compared to the questions I get from the English teachers: "Why did the United States bomb our embassy?" "What do Americans think about communism?" "Why does the United States fear economic growth in China?"

We have a lot to think about.