sunday tulips and table tennis

Sam (the boy I tutor) and his parents took me out to West Mountain on Sunday morning.

My adorable student . . . and the flower he eventually found for me.

He looked for a really long time for a fallen one.

I got creamed by the long-underwear-clad twelve-year-olds.

The girls were shy, and apparently just delighted to be watching.

When I got tired of table tennis, I went back to the edge of the lake to drink tea with Sam's mom, who, it turns out, used to run a teahouse/coffeeshop that served Western food. Helpful conversation. And she's just nice. Father is also gentle and kind. He works for city planning . . . and manages to squeeze his car pretty well between the commoner folk hiking on foot up the not-so-wide mountain roads. They're good parents, and demand of Sam an above-average level of consideration for others. They have a woman who cooks and cleans for them, Sam's mom tells me, but she still asks Sam to wash his own clothes. She wants him to learn to 动手 ("move his hands").

saturday

Cinnamon rolls in the morning and Phil's birthday hotpot in the evening. And in the middle there was the strength of a three-legged skype conversation and the leisure of long sun on the balcony as we chatted and shelled peanuts. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of those.

I just sit back and enjoy

I quickly learned that the eight AM class needs SOMETHING right away unless I just want to stare into sleepy faces for the first half an hour of class . . . and this morning, the "ice-breaker" role-play worked nicely. The girl with the big spiky hair was easily my favorite, as I think she might continue to be. Her eyes crinkle closed when she smiles or laughs and she was doing a lot of both when her partner - a male classmate with a much smaller measure of both English and confidence - wasn't quite understanding the details of the situation. At "Sarah's birthday party" she asked, "Is she your cousin, too?" and laughed with abandon when he gave a confused nod. But not without kindness. Between the bursts of mirth, she coaxed him, "You should say, 'No, she's not my cousin. She's my co-worker.'" I watched from the edge of the deskrow, scattering supportive smiles and nods with my own barely-reserved laughter. And again, when the same girl, acting in front of the whole class, leaned up against the wall with a fake cigarette. The class was delighted with her audacity (smoking is much more a man's thing in China) and, I think, the sense of "cool" that emanated from her nonchalance. They laughed harder when she offered a cigarette to the other girl in the roleplay, though I doubt they were laughing, like me, at how she'd asked if she needed "some fire." I forgot how fun this can be.