i'd like to (not) get whacked

Let’s get real. There are some people you can’t say “no” to: Mother Theresa. The Pope. Mr. Rogers. People from Kazakhstan.

Last week in the middle of my Chinese class, a petite girl I’d never met before, with thick eye-liner and a thick Russian accent summoned me to the hall. My intrigue was replaced by confusion, which soon turned into paranoia as I surveyed my beckoner and wondered how in the name of all that is Holy we could possibly be connected....“Have I offended a family (and KGB) member of hers?,” “Could she be packing?,” “Do I really need all my fingers?”…

With relief I discovered that the answer was “none of the above.” She simply wanted me to fill in for her at a Chinese preschool for the week. We decided to meet after class at the school’s “coffee shop” (a glorified desk with snacks, hot water, and packets of instant brew from which students who are affluent enough to spare 3 kuai may purchase such delicacies).

We sipped a substance that I will not call Coffee (as doing so would dishonor the name). The petite girl and her accompanying brother each enjoyed a cigarette. The sounds of Slavic dialects filled the room as their friends joined and we discussed the Preschool arrangement. Suddenly, it was if I had left the PRC, boarded a time machine, and landed smack dab in the middle of the U.S.S.R. Somehow, somewhere in between “oh, you mean this preschool is 2 hours away from my house?” and “that’s a nice mob ring you’re wearing there, Ruskov” I found out that my new Kazak friend was not in need of just a one-week substitute but instead, someone for the whole year.

I had never been to Happy Valley—the location of the school. Heck, I had never even taken an Early Childhood Ed. Class. But as the Kazak duo puffed away, I found myself committing to the whole, year-long gig. I would have offered them my right kidney as well if they had asked (I’m glad they didn’t.).

And that is how I ended up on a daily 2-bus-plus-subway commute to The-Middle-of-Nowhere-Beijing for the entirety of last week.

But wouldn’t you know that is was worth it? That Chinese preschoolers pretty much make my heart melt faster than a puppy in a fireman hat saving orphans from a well? And wouldn’t you know that Chinese preschoolers LOVE “Duck-Duck-Goose” (even if the only word for “duck” I knew in Chinese was the roasted-for-dinner version and who the heck even knows how to say “goose”?) And don’t even get them started on “If You’re Happy and You Know it Clap Your Hands (Pie Pie!)!” You will have a riot on your hands.

And the Chinese government does not smile on riots.