Changes are still the same

To the editor:
    “Has your outlook on China changed?”, a colleague asked me as we were riding back to the main campus. I would be foolish to say anything less than “yes”.
    I have chronicled some of those changes in thoughts in these few words I send home. As I do I remember some of the daydreams hatched in those classrooms that look out on Fort Street from the high school.  None foresaw that I would be looking out the window this morning on the alien landscape of Shanghai. At the time even though there were signs that the country of China was opening up, we would have laughed at the idea that China would be anything more than in impoverished third world communist stronghold: A big red blob on the other side of the globe.
    Now finishing my third year here, I marvel at what has changed in the short time that I have lived in this Pearl of the Orient. Yes, traffic is crazy. People on foot do not wait for the stop light: If it is clear, you go! Staying on the curb is not a habit. Motorcycles, bicycles, cars and pedestrians can share the same space and at the same time. Don’t blink!
    Expect tremendous expectorations and the chorus of hawkings in sympathy as a glob of spit is sent in a graceful arc to the street. Thankfully there are no spittoons. Today we have trash cans. Grit and dirt are everywhere but this is still a clean city.
    A typical fruit stand has at least 10 or 12 different fruits on a seasonal basis. A broad variety of vegetables can be seen amongst the vendors along the alleyway to the school. Far broader than even Graves Shop ‘n Save can imagine. We have acres of white clover back home. It’s a favorite of the four-legged lovers of greens. Here it’s a vegetable. Tasty with onions and garlic.
    I see the old Converse logos here. That iconic brand that many of us remember when the plant was in the old missile sheds up on the base. Growing up I think I did not see a different running shoe until well into high school. Converse high tops were the shoe. I had a pair that I loved until the day I was playing kickball and the sole of my shoe went flying past the gym teacher’s head. Now my students wear the brand and yet they have no real understanding of how that brings back a memory of times long passed.
    As I work on finishing my classes for the semester I know that my view of China has changed. Face to face with the ordinary, I find that these people are just like the friends and neighbors of home. All of us have our frustrations, joys, desires and humors. There are good days and bad days. We love food. Any excuse for a party is to be taken. The other driver, bicyclist, and pedestrian is an idiot for getting in your way. And we love entertaining each other.
    As I work my students through a rough set of plays for their finals I think back to the fun that everyone had with the plays at the high school. And who could know that so many of those students who stood on the floorboards of the Ship, the Shipmates, would continue to indulge in the hobby. A couple of weeks ago I heard John Olore on “Wait,Wait Don’t Tell Me!” on NPR. He was still the same self-effacing comic character who played oh so many clowns over the four years we spent in the auditorium. A relative passed along a review of John Cariani’s play “Almost Maine” in the Los Angeles Times. Other players are now scattered to the four corners of the globe. Lord, Ladner, Smith, Zubrick, and all the others in theatre and arts, showed all of us how to play hard. Even now, southern Maine still wonders how that backwater school can consistently make Portland schools look bumbling.
    We played to have fun. We played to learn. And we played to win. My students are learning that winning is not the score. Winning is remaining ahead of those who would see you stay in the dirt. What these folk forget is that dirt is honest. It keeps you focused on what is important. But if you work with it you find that it has its own humor. As I peruse their notebooks and watch them rehearse their shows for the final exams I can only hope that they will one day be able to see the County it all its wondrous pleasures. Yes, even the sucking black flies are good: For a trout!