Exasperated, my academic advisor was practically shouting, “You will not be a teacher! You must not be a teacher!”

She had a point. My senior internship wasn’t going well and did not meet the minimum quality standards envisioned by the College. I was busy with other things my senior year of college – parties, socializing, recovering from hangovers. In fact, I was having such a good time my senior year, the College thought it best that I take a fifth year before they’d be comfortable imparting a diploma to my name.

As I sat in Jan’s office, looking down at my highly disorganized practicum project and low PRAXIS test scores I knew she was probably right. My heart wasn’t really into teaching. I wanted to live a life of adventure and glamour, not check math worksheets for eighth graders and work crowd control at a pep rally.

But the joke was on her, for I’d already been hired to teach English in China starting the next year. I was going to be a College Professor, teaching in the foreign languages department of a prestigious Chinese University in a tier 3 city.

I wanted to shout back at her “College Professor Jan! College Professor! … That’s the same as you, and I’m only half your age!” But she was already ushering me out of her office to get ready for her meeting with the next failed student intern.

***

It’s a shame that English is the global language. It’s such a rotten, confusing, thrown together language that is riddled with glaring contradictions and obnoxious inconsistencies. English is an ugly mutt, a mish mash of all Europe’s worst tendencies. Our language is horridly democratic: seemingly any joe schmoe or chatty Cathy can come along and add their blundering, unintelligible blather to the list of words and within a few years it’ll be in the dictionary!

Mandarin on the other hand is clean, streamlined, logical. It is homogenous yet versatile. It has been purified through thousands of years. Because the characters are so numerous and complex, requiring years of schooling to learn, it was controlled by the uber elite for centuries. Unlike English, there was no influence from the linguistic redneck yacht club until just recently.

Mandarin is the Apple iPhone of languages- intuitive and sleek. Whereas English is the dusty old computer your Uncle Herm built in his basement – a Frankenstein glued together with items out of the junk drawer.

How do you teach this awful language? I had no idea.

Like growing up in a dysfunctional family, you don’t realize how messed up English is until you try to explain it to outsiders.

Our brilliant advice to kids learning to read: “just sound it out!” That’s sounds great, but in practice is completely useless.

Sound out the word “aisle”. I’ll hang up and listen.

How are you supposed to sound out letters that are constantly shifting their expression, for seemingly arbitrary reasons? Those a’s,e’s,i’s,o’s, and u’s are more temperamental than your Xanax addicted cousin and then we tack on “and sometimes y…”

English is such a nasty language, held together with duct tape and bubble gum. Teaching it was less like being an actual teacher and more like working HR for a poorly run, mom and pop hotel. You’re onboarding students to the ins and outs of this creaky old building called English.

“On Tuesday’s this room is available for rent, but not Saturdays and Mondays. This room is being used by the French so we deliver room service at a different time and if you want to open the door you have to twist the knob to the left and then add a ‘nais’ sound which in the other rooms is referred to as ‘nays’. And finally, this person pays their bill once a month in carrots, just FYI.”

***

It was like Jan had put a curse on me. Because I had gone against her academic advisement that I not be a teacher, she had doomed me to an eternity of teaching English.

Teaching English in China, we were given the lofty title of “Foreign Expert”, which sounds a bit like you’ll be consulting on their new fusion reactor project. The “foreign” part was obvious, the “expert” came from our expertise, which was speaking our native language fluently.

If you’ve never lived in China, it’s difficult to express the inevitability that you’ll teach English. No matter how high you climb the ladder, you are only a few bad decisions or one economic recession away from teaching English again.

Qualifications do not matter. For example, Albert Einstein (who is not even a native speaker but is an old white dude) could go to China and be giving lectures on the theory of relativity. But inevitably, someone would walk up to him after one of those talks and say the following:

“Hey Al, really great talk, love what you’re doing. It’s tremendous! …yeah…hey so random thought here, do you think you’d be around this weekend to teach English? My daughter is six. You don’t have to plan anything, I know you’re busy, just come over and play blocks with her or something…what’s that? … you don’t do that? …really…? Oh, you should totally give it a try, it’s a great way to make money and you’d be so good at it…”

It was humbling and demoralizing to think that the only thing I was good at was what I’d always been doing since birth. As time went by, I felt a desire to be an actual expert at something, so I left the world of English education for grander pastures.

***

It was a years long battle to get out of the English game. I kept pushing to overcome. I struggled against the current, even when the world tried to drag me back down. I ran and I ran and didn’t look back lest my steps start to waver.

Sure, there’s still some leftover nostalgia. Looking back on it now, the life of a Foreign Expert seems somewhat glamorous and adventurous. You’re a celebrated tier 3 celebrity, a man about town frequenting those chic central Hubei venues where people can see and be seen.

But naturally I’ve excelled beyond all that. Most mornings I’m able to look at myself in the mirror and honestly say, “You’re better than that.”

I’m at a stage in my development where I have some real skills and am more than just a pretty face. Teach English? Pssshhh!!! That’s so beneath me at this point!!

(I HEAR A TRAIN HORN)

Jan was right, I’ll never be a teacher, I must not be a teacher! After all, I’ve got skills. You can’t just drag some dazed college graduate off the street and have them do what I do. It takes years of schooling and REAL-WORLD experience! It takes effort, a daily dedication to your craft, to finely hone your technique. You have to put in the time, wake up and grind, to stay ahead of….

(A RAPIDLY APPROACHING TRAIN HORN)

And sure, I’ve structured my life in a way where I can work and also homeschool my six-year-old, who is originally from China. It’s nothing super formal because everyone knows how busy I am with my very important work. We often just play blocks or have a lesson on the weekend.

(A BLARING TRAIN HORN)

Like for instance I’m currently trying to explain to him the ins and outs of English grammar. It’s very confusing because this language of ours is so awful – a putrid coleslaw of Italian, French, German, and Anglo-Saxon utterances. I look down at the stack of vocab words we’ll be reviewing this morning, wondering how or why anyone would waste their life teaching this crap.

“Spell the word WALK.”

“W. O. K.”

“Well, technically you’re correct… … but we’re trying to spell a different WALK…” (wow the Chinese are even better at “sounding out” our own words than we are.)

I look up for a moment and it occurs to me where I am and what I’m doing. Like a deer caught in the brilliant headlights, I realize this moment is upon me and I can’t react quickly enough to jump out of the way.

(IMPACT)

You Can't Outrun the Train