The academic year is getting off to a slow start. Deb taught her first class this past Wednesday, but a couple of weeks ago we went up to the college and met the English teachers and administrators.

I was sitting and talking with about five of the (English speaking) staff when Deb was called out of the room. The rest of us were having an interesting and animated conversation about politics and I didn't really pay attention to where she'd gone. But after about half an hour, after we had covered the US Presidential elections, our missile defense program, and China's relations with Taiwan and Tibet, I began to wonder where she was.

I wandered out into the hallway and began peering into the open doorways. I found her sitting in an office with a Chinese man who introduced himself to me as Mark Browning. (Chinese people often adopt Western names to make it easier for people like me to remember them.) Deb explained that I was her husband and he very excitedly said to me "Oh! So this is your beloved wife!" I thought this was charming, but a bit flamboyant.

I soon realized that everything about Mr. Browning was a bit flamboyant. He had the nervous energy of a toy poodle, his hands always fluttering in the air as he spoke, his voice rising and falling in pitch (mostly rising) with a dramatic singsong that is uncommon even in a tonal language like Chinese.

Mark was one of the school's English teachers. He had invited my beloved wife to speak the next day to his students, and now extended the invitation to me. Now while I do not consider myself qualified as an English speaker, I feel quite confident (probably overconfident) as an English talker, so I gladly accepted his invitation.

Deb and I decided to tell the story of how we met, which Mark gigglingly declared to be both suitable and romantic. He told us how when he was a student, a foreigner asked him to share mooncakes with him for the Mid-Autumn Festival celebration. "I am so excited! My heart, it is beating so loud I cannot think. It is so romantic that he ask me to have a picnic!" The choice of pronoun may have been accidental; in Chinese, there is no distinction made between "he" and "she" and it is common for people to use them interchangeably when speaking English. But with Mark, I think he may have been expressing his interests accurately, even if unintentionally.

He want on to say that this initial flirtation did not lead to any lasting relationship. "I am afraid there is no girl waiting for me." he concluded with melodramatic finality. And I thought, "A girl? Probably, no."

Mark had two classes the next morning and we attended both. The first was in huge room with over 70 students, all sophomores. When we entered the room they spontaneously burst into applause. Mark made an extravagant introduction, describing us as "distinguished foreign experts." In explaining our topic, he instructed the students to turn to page 76 of their textbooks. As some of you know, Deb and I met through a tongue-in-cheek classified ad. I couldn't imagine that their textbook would have lessons in writing classified ads. But little did I know...

Mark handed each of us a copy of the textbook. It turns out that he is the author of this text. And sure enough, on page 76, I read, under the heading "Love & Marriage":

"Attractive, fiery, red-headed professional fire female, 24, seeks intelligent, professional male, 20-45, must wear glasses. If you know how to treat a lady, I promise you won't get your fingers burned."
I made a note to take a better look at this collection of material, but right now, we were on.

The students listened attentively as we told our tale, laughing politely at the right points, but I think a lot of the details of our descriptions were beyond their comprehension. Afterwards, we had a question and answer period, where it became clear that these students were not proficient at English. They were very shy and reluctant to speak. Deb broke the ice by saying in Chinese that she was very shy too. This was met with an exuberant round of applause. Finally, one brave and trembling girl rose to thank us for coming to their class and welcomed us to Kunming. More applause.

The initial questions were very general and more or less randomly addressed to each of us. "Do you like China?" "What do you think of Kunming?" "Where do you come from?" Then I was asked "Which of you is the better student?" I politely averred that Deb was more studious than I. I think they must have clearly understood that answer because from that point on, all the questions went to my beloved wife. "How can we improve our English?" "Is it possible to learn English in three months?" "How can we hope to travel to the United States?"

Finally, time ran out and it was time to go to Mark's next class; an optional elective with about 15 students. This time, he asked us to cooperate with his planned lesson, rather than retelling our own story. His lesson was built around another chapter in his textbook. Looking through it, I could see this was a real piece of work. It has a big counterculture slant. For example, there is this review of the movie, The Graduate:

"The story took place in the sixties, when the US was in war with Vietnam. The film explores the inner world of the American youth in the war time. Benjamin, an upright young graduate, has a betrothal with Elaine, which was finally aborted by Mrs. Robinson, Elaine's mother. Mrs. Robinson was in her forties, well-educated and rich, and bore a certain deformity in personality. First she took pains to seduce Ben to satisfy her awful desire. Then after she found out that her daughter was in love with Ben she tried every mean way to stop the young couple, as threatening, cheating and slandering. Benjamin was a conflicted character. He knew better than to be led by Mrs. Robinson, but at the same time he couldn't resist the seduction. Once he was totally engaged in the affair with Elaine, he never gave up. At last he won the girl."
There were also many songs, and his lesson for the day was to have us sing some of them. We started with "Glory, Glory Hallelujah" which Mark placed in the context of the Civil War and the freeing of the slaves. The class sang cooperatively, but not particularly enthusiastically. We then went on to sing "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" Mark presented this as an anti-war song, and rather courageously made the case that sometimes it is important to stand up to your government and refuse to go to war if the cause is unjust. I was impressed by his willingness to speak up for insurrection, particularly after recent event like the Chinese suppression of Falun Gong and the massacre in Tiananmen Square.

Finally, he introduced a song that he wrote, improbably titled "Jesus I Love You." He was especially proud of this one, and in order to maximize the impact he first sang it solo for us. The words are:

Jesus I love You
I bow down before You
Praise and worship to our King.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelu.
This was pretty heavy stuff in an officially atheistic country. But the real impact was from his delivery. Mark's normally high and querulous voice became a booming baritone. He clenched his hands together in a prayerful reverie, held his eyes closed tight and his head tilted heavenward. He drifted through the classroom like a gospel preacher, delivering the song with an authority that would be right at home in a Southern Baptist Church.

I was dumbfounded. I leaned over and whispered to Deb, "Between his politics, his religion and his homosexuality, this guy's headed for jail!" But I was also impressed. He could really sing! Of course this made it all the more awkward when it was time for us to join in for the second round. I found myself surprisingly reluctant to sing the lyrics. Somehow I imagined it would be easier to swear allegiance to the Communist Party than to pledge obsequiousness to Our Lord. But I resolved to swallow my pride and join in.

Much to our astonishment, while we sang the verse Mark switched over to playing trumpet. But not an actual trumpet. As he explained it, he would carefully purse his lips and blow through them making the sound of a trumpet. We were to sing along.

I'm not sure if I would describe the sound that emerged as that of a trumpet. I'm not sure *how* I would describe it; it was truly unearthly. Imagine someone making farting noises with their mouth, but higher pitched, like a 33 RPM record played at 78. Or maybe it was the sound of someone playing a kazoo after inhaling helium. Words fail me. Once again, he delivered this with an earnest, impassioned reverence.

I could barely contain my laughter. Tears rolled down my cheeks and my chest heaved as I tried to suppress giggles. Fortunately, Mark was once again captivated by the spirit and was oblivious to my predicament. His fervor had carried along the students, who sang loudly and with gusto. I can't speak to his talents as an English teacher, but if he ever decides to become an evangelist, I'll be the first in line to write him a recommendation.

We tend to think of ourselves as the brave trailblazers here, but surely we are being too self congratulatory. Seeing Mark Browning in action, I realize that many Chinese people challenge the status quo in ways that far exceed our protected little adventures. Mark is one of Deb's English students; I will be interested in learning more about him.