After the first Service Club trip, I was left feeling quite uncomfortable and utterly shocked, and I didn’t really know what to do with myself. In the immediate aftermath, I doubted if I ever wanted to return, and momentarily regretted having agreed to lead the Service Club. But soon enough, the next Service Club day rolled around, and we went again. And again. And the gears began churning. And I became attached.

By the end of the Jishou summer, it was one particular baby that I absolutely fell in love with. Although she has some kind of muscular dystrophy, her muscles are quite functional at this point. Perhaps she will get worse as she grows older, but right now she is a strong girl. What a sweet baby! I’m not sure how or why, but I have so much love for this baby. She loves music, especially Jason Mraz, apparently. I don’t know how many times I’ve sang I’m Yours over the past month and a half. This girl is an incredibly happy baby when she gets hugs and kisses, but the ladies at the orphanage pay almost no attention to her.

It was emotional (to say the very least) having to say goodbye to this baby and everyone else at the home for the last time today. This orphanage took me by surprise. It somehow grabbed my heart and I don’t think it will ever let go. It was difficult telling some of them that today would be the last day I’d be coming to see them. When preparing for a summer of teaching English, I never would have expected Service Club to be a point of the trip that would affect me this much. Having this experience has changed me, and helped me to realize how much I still have left to learn. There are so many people out there whose experiences I can’t even begin to imagine. I’m yearning to learn more about the lives of children like the ones at this orphanage. There is so much more to know.

By some unknowable force, I have been given this beautiful life that somehow brought here this summer. However far life takes me from Jishou, part of me will remain where the children forever are, standing at the gate, smiling, waving “buhbye, buhbye, buhbye…”

Teaching is learning.

I’ve certainly heard that teaching is one of the best ways to learn. Until now, however, I had never had a true appreciation for that idea. But it has proven to be so true in many different ways. Most conspicuously, I’m learning a bunch about the English language. Even as a grammar enthusiast, I am still put to the test everyday when I try, for example, to explain the difference between “a few” and “few,” all while staying within a limited vocabulary. Furthermore, (cue the clichés), I’m learning about myself. Apparently, spending mornings in the classroom five days a week can whip you into shape pretty quickly. In those moments standing before a group of expectant faces, it happens. You witness your own limitations suddenly crystallizing right before you, acknowledge them as constructs and realize the importance of what lies beyond them, and then push right through.

But being here has still more lessons to offer. After giving our first “Lions” test during a Friday lecture, we had a very relaxed precept. So I showed the class pictures from my photo library and they were really thrilled about that. But it seemed that the photos and my stories left a very “deep impression” – as they would say – that I still haven’t decided how I feel about. They kept repeating that I live a very ‘colorful’ life. Listening to their reactions and considering their perspectives always reminds me how colorful it really is. The world – and I mean that quite literally – is at our fingertips. It’s all waiting for us. Nothing is off limits. And in some ways, that is radically untrue for many of them. The colorful life that I showed them that day is possibly just an abstract idea for them, at least for the time being. What do they think of that? Do they think about it? Who deals the cards? And the children in the orphanage that we visit during Service Club, who dealt their cards? What is their experience? I’m not sure if I’ll ever know, though I’m interminably curious about the experiences of others.

On the bright side of this, however, I have gotten a great opportunity to get to know some of my students. Reading and writing in their journals has been absolutely amazing, because the girls are all so honest and thoughtful. Some choose to share more than others. Corresponding with every student is unique, and I have found that I have an incredible amount in common with some of them. And never would I have expected my students to want to share things with me that they do not want to share with anyone else. What have we done to deserve their trust? Whatever that may have been, I feel lucky and responsible to honor that trust.

~Jessica

Last Monday was our first true day of class, because although we had taught the Friday prior, all three of the Lions teachers and all of our students were together in one classroom. We certainly had a lot of fun playing our introduction trivia game with the students, but I knew that the coming days would be quite different.

I was nervous, to say the least, to start teaching on my own. But by the end of the next day, my nerves had been calmed considerably after leading a lecture, two precepts, and a few individual sessions. Earlier that day, Sofia had mentioned a comment about how nerves can act in weird ways, sometimes. The time leading up to the event is when they’re feistiest, but in the moment itself they are much quieter. The moment is like the eye of the storm, she said. And she was right. That Tuesday morning when I woke up, sleep deprived and grumpy, I questioned why I had wanted to do this to myself. Why did I think it would be a good idea to ‘challenge’ myself like this? At the time, the ‘challenge’ felt like puffy eyes, a scant breakfast, and utter confusion about what I was supposed to be doing with myself here. But after a day of teaching and getting to know a group of wonderful students, I knew again why I had decided to come to Jishou, and had a much better idea of what I was doing here (even if I’m not yet at expert at doing it).

The days are becoming busier and busier, and I have a pretty strong feeling that the summer might fly by. Will there be enough time? I can already feel myself getting attached to this place. To the place, to the summer, to the people…

I have inadvertently entered an uncountable number of staring contests with hundreds of strangers over the past week. But despite my domestic title as reigning SoS slack-jaw champion, these duals are usually not pre-meditated. More often than not, I’m quick to forfeit the impromptu matches because a smile or a wave or even a nihao is just too tempting. These may or may not be reciprocated, but no matter. I have absolutely zero plans to work on my poker face.

Being constantly invited into staring contests offers some unique opportunities and challenges. For example, photography is often a precarious conflict of interest. I get this rare opportunity to consistently take photos with my subjects peering directly at my camera, and I don’t even have to ask! I should probably consider setting up a portrait studio. What this also means, however, is that there is rarely even a chance of taking photos of anyone not looking at the camera. Two months of portrait photography, I realize, might start to get old.

Similarly, if I ever feel like starting a conversation or if find myself needing to ask a question, our convoy probably already has the attention of the entire vicinity. So many friends will be made. Yesterday, when stepping onto a bridge filled with forty eyes tracking every movement that I made, it was neither difficult nor awkward when I wanted to strike up conversation with these future friends. In fact, we ended up talking about the reason why Americans can look very different from each other, how it’s sometimes hard to determine where people are from, and the rapid development of the Chinese countryside. But this has a flipside, too. When engaged in a staring contest, its quite important to minimize extraneous movement. I’ve found from experience that there’s never a chance to take a cute misstep, sneak a stealthy adjustment of the spanx, or do anything similarly incriminating. For while my opponents would likely remain transfixed, mortification would pull me right out of the game. If I could blush, I certainly would. (And that would throw us all for a loop).

But alas. I will dual ‘til the end. It’s somehow comforting to know that our friends here in rural (and not-so-rural) China find me as interesting as I find them. The cards have been evenly dealt. Furthermore, I have no qualms about appearing to be a member of some strange species, an enigmatic character from a foreign TV show, or just a laughable tourist. Everything feels right, as it should be. There’s no want and no need. I can’t wait to get up tomorrow and once again take my seat on the bus, ready to stare unflinchingly at the beautiful countryside.

If she is willing to accept my challenge, that is.

~Jessica

I thought that I should start out by writing about my expectations, but I hesitate to overemphasize them. It’s sort of tricky to explain what I mean by this, but I should give it a shot. While I have been looking forward to this trip for what seems like ages, I somehow still haven’t thought so much about what I expect it to be. We were asked to imagine what the physical city of Jishou would look like, and I wrote something vague about the height and color of University buildings. But truthfully, I don’t want to have expectations. I want no mental image, no preconceptions, no imagined first steps out of the station in Jishou or interactions with our students – no expectations. It’s as though I’ve chosen the blindfold and will not peak, because I know that peaking will only given me an obscured version of the real deal. The true experience will speak for herself, I believe, and she will arrive in due time. So for the time being, I’m just savoring the last three (slightly hectic) weeks that I will have here in the Garden State for quite some time. This is definitely not to say that I’m not excited – quite the opposite! Rather, my excitement lies purely in the prospect of the unknown, the unexpected, the unanticipated.

Something that I do already know is that this is a priceless group. I think I’ve already shed a few tears laughing with them during our many group meeting. And since I really didn’t know anyone too well going in, I still have so much to learn about everyone in the bunch. So much bonding lies ahead! After all, two months navigating through a Chinese summer should do the trick…

So I suppose that although I don’t want them to color the actual experience, I do have expectations. And I have qualms, too. I have qualms about the moments or days or experiences or feelings that tend to get glazed over or forgotten when they exist in memory. But when they are happening in the present, nothing could be more real. The moments when you wonder why you decided to journey halfway across the world to a foreign land that you barely understand, rather than staying home where life is predictable and familiar. Or the moments where you feel like you made all the wrong decisions that day, said all the wrong things, or let everyone down. Talking to the various members of the plentiful SoS legacy, it seems that their experiences were overwhelmingly positive. But yet my wary self still fears those moments most, because the promise of a good story never seems to abate the disappointment felt while climbing into bed that night.

But enough of Debbie Downer (or should I say Jaded Jess?). I say bring the sun, bring the rain, and bring everything in between. Because what I most anticipate is learning the things that I had never expected to learn. In other words, I can’t wait to know what I didn’t know I was going to know. Or did I just get too meta? Either way, this summer is bound to teach so many lessons beyond our lesson plans. And they are just waiting to be discovered.

But in the meantime, there is still so much to be done! So, here I go, back to that to-do list…