In the Ordinary Moment

Salut,

Chi Diu has been racing across the country for the month of October to visit all of us. During the Peace Corps, we had a few site visits by our Regional Managers (RM). Chi Diu’s site visit was a little more direct, and it involved a visit to our rooms to check the conditions, a visit to the school, and a meeting with the faculty/administration. Chi Diu also brought a Foreign Service Officer or member of the Public Diplomacy team with her to each visit. Alexandra Grieg-Duerte, a PD foreign service officer, came to visit me with her. My school was so kind that they invited us to lunch, but when Chi Diu declined, as she wanted to eat with Alexandra and Alexandra in a small setting, Lang Son College paid and made a reservation for lunch for us at a nice restaurant.

Alexandra and many of the other FSOs have been asked to present the America 250 presentation to our students. For me, I knew absolutely everything in the presentation, because it is all about American history, and I felt bad that many of my students who came to her presentation were probably bored, because they couldn’t understand her or weren’t interested. The front rows were all my K8TA, first-year students, class!

K8TA is easily my favorite class, and I tell my other classes that I am not ashamed nor afraid to admit it. They are a smaller class, and they are so incredibly funny. Relative to the other two, their English level is generally lower, but they have so much energy and rapport with each other, which is ironic because they are first-years, so when I first arrived, they weren't friends with each other. One of our favorite jokes has been that one of the students said “shit” instead of “shirt”, and then confused “skirt” with “shirt” again, which I think is easy to mix up. We were talking about clothing and giving compliments to each other about our outfits, and he was like, “Yeah, dude, I like your shit!” and all the students burst out laughing. I like to tease them. One of the girls, Trang, has been absent from my morning class due to sleeping in late, but I teach in the afternoon right next to them, so during break, I wandered in. I was like, “Hey, Trang, nice to seeeeee you…” and she tried to hide from me, all guilty. Whenever I wander into their classroom, they wave and say hi. They’re so sweet.  

I finally got my K6TA class to open up and to hang out with them. They are a harder class to pin down. I had to message my host after I noticed persistent absenteeism and tardiness in that class. Granted, the class is the dreaded Friday afternoon class, and I don’t want to be there at that time. We do what we must. I hear the typical “oh, teacher, we are so tired; it is so early in the morning” at 8 am class, and then the “oh, teacher, I am so tired, it has been a long day,” at 2 pm class, so either way I can’t win. Hence, I force them to do jumping jacks if they come in late. One middling Friday afternoon, only 16 out of 29 on the roster came to class. After I messaged their class, Chi Anh has been diligent in coming to check in on my class and ensure they are all there. I hung out with some students the next day, and they confided in me that Chi Anh had gotten super angry at their class for not coming. I told them if they want to skip a class, skip their Chinese class; I won’t judge :/, not mine! All 29 students came to class the week after that. It is frustrating because their class has the most potential, and some of the wisest and hardest-working students. I learned late that one of my students had excellent English, and when I told her that, and I even admitted I mixed her up with a lower-performing student, she was aghast, but I said to her, “I would not mix you up if you showed up to class!” Anyway, their class is also great, but I simply don’t see them that often.

In general, in each of their classes, I have befriended and spent a lot of time with whoever has the best English, and whoever is friends with them/whoever they drag to things. I do think that because my Kyrgyz was better, I had far greater opportunities to genuinely talk to locals there, which I really struggle to do here. Part of the language barrier is the unfortunate reality that we eventually hit a wall in conversations and what we can talk about. I am so proud of and admire the students who put themselves out there to talk to me, and I imagine myself at their age and wonder if I would have been so proactive and thoughtful, and the answer is probably no. Minh, the classroom monitor of the 2nd years, remains the person I probably see and talk to the most, and her English speaking is far more fluent and cohesive than some of the teachers. Chinh, the classroom monitor of the 1st years, is also an older student with children, and her excellent English comes from also having a job at an English center. I won’t really name names for the 3rd year’s classroom monitor, because she doesn’t do her job particularly well, but I hang out with Kieu and Ly, two girls from that class, the latter of whom has excellent English, especially for her age. I definitely don’t want to diminish the guys in my classes; many of them have excellent English, albeit they are shy and standoffish, which I am working on cracking. It is more difficult to get them in a 1:1 setting, but I have seen a lot of them in group settings.  

In early October, they had the first-year’s welcome ceremony, which was a beautiful concert with the music and dance majors performing. One of the MCs I was convinced was my student’s twin brother because he had black hair, and I had seen my own student with blonde hair just two days before. Anyway, I noticed at this event and at many other concert-like events that people really don’t clap much here, or at least not in Lang Son. The singers and dancers will put their whole chest into their songs and routines, only to be met with the most tepid and lukewarm applause I’ve ever seen. Not just at school, but also in the city center during huge concerts. Minh was dubious of my claim when I told her that, but when she came to visit the night walking street with me, she saw it for herself.

The more I have talked to the foreign expats here, the more I realize the extent of my own privilege here. I never gave it much thought in the Peace Corps, considering I was living on a very comparable salary to the average teacher, working longer hours, and directly living with a host family. I always felt a deep sense of privilege relative to Kyrgyz local people, but rarely to foreigners. My Kyrgyz students would tell me about their dreams, their hopes, and I understood in time the broad socio-economic constraints and factors that made life incredibly difficult for them. What did my life look like to them? I think it is arrogant to assume that they must be jealous, and as the saying goes, the grass is always greener on the other side. Material conditions make a life in America much more desirable, yet the strength of the simplicity and close community bonds in Kyrgyz society are difficult to overstate. I am not blind to my students here in Vietnam who talk about money a lot, who in my class list a big salary as a number one concern for them. I am not blind to the hustle and grind young people here have, the low wages and long hours. One student even said a nice boss or good relationship with his coworkers is a mild concern for him, as it is typical for bosses to be mean here. Of course, that was a generalization he was making, but I think that the notion that concerns white-collar workers like myself have, like HR and “the meaning of our work”, and colleague relationships feels tangential and secondary to the hustle and need for money. Nor is this exclusive to Vietnam anyway.

The foreign expats I do know here work long hours. They have limited vacation and time off, while I go frolicking off to Hanoi. It is misguided to let their limitations guilt me, but I guess my point is that my experiences are not the average experience a foreigner would have here in Vietnam. The spectrum is vast between the carefully curated tour guide groups I see in Hanoi and living amongst rice fields like the Peace Corps Volunteers. I got the chance to meet the broader group Alsu is a part of, meeting Olga, Misha (a Russian man who has lived in Lang Son for several years), and Rahma, a new Tunisian woman who just started working here. They all live in a large apartment complex together, occupying the top two floors, their own sort of hype house. Yet because of the structure of their work, most work long evening hours with few days off. Alsu now doesn’t have any actual days off (she is not working long hours; they're just distributed across the whole week). I work mostly in the morning or afternoon Tuesday-Friday now, so it is difficult because our schedules don’t always align. We did the most Russian thing imaginable, as one night, I caught them biking around the city, and we went to their apartment complex to drink beer.

My students themselves are insanely busy all the time. Some admit to studying 5-7 hours a day, while others work and juggle jobs. One of my students is a Teaching Assistant at a learning center, a few work at Jollibee (a fast food restaurant), a few are baristas, and a few are private tutors or work at private English centers. Minh is a colleague of Alsu, so I think it is amusing to me, the spiderweb of working and teacher relationships I have woven. Life in Lang Son, heck, life in Vietnam, is not easy. Students often have classes 6 days a week, and it is commonly said that Sunday is truly the only day most of the country has off. People rise early, work and hustle, siesta during the day, then work into the evening and hang out into the late hours of the night. I remember what it was like to be a college student, so I am unsurprised when I see my students posting pictures or texting me at 2-3 AM. They don’t get much sleep, and many will text me about only getting 3-6 hours of sleep per day. The only reclusive ones with some semblance of regular hours are the adult students I have who have children. Most of my students work longer hours than I do but make significantly less money. I remember what it was like to be the poor, broke, college student, and I know it prevents some of my students from coming to hang out with me or their classmates, so I always offer or insist on paying.

Lang Son College hosted a startup contest, a sort of entrepreneurial contest, where students offered pitches for activities, businesses, inventions, etc. There were a lot of AI-designed presentations. While there, I met a journalist who had excellent English and was working and covering the contest, though she studied at a different university. Also at that contest, I met Max (I briefly encountered him at the film dubbing competition a few weeks ago), a young 7th grader. I don’t actually remember his Vietnamese name, but his English is excellent, particularly for his age. He told me about his experience traveling in Japan and South Korea, acting as a translator for his mother. Chi Anh, who was listening to us talk, reminded me, which I had already assumed, that Max’s experience is extremely uncommon. Max comes from a wealthy family in Lang Son, particularly evidenced by traveling to Japan and Korea; very few families can afford to do that here, and for his English at such a young age to be good, he had to have received English tutoring, despite his insistence that he learned from cartoons. I think it is worth remembering that learning languages can often seem like simply a “gift” some people have. Of course, in all my experiences teaching English in my life, I have found extremely gifted students who learned English despite challenging circumstances, but everyone I have encountered with excellent English had a clear access point or reason (English teacher parent, job at English center, English movies/media/music). I think it is worth remembering that learning languages never occurs in a vacuum; it happens at intersections of economic privilege, resources, talent, and sometimes, hard work. It is never something you magically have or can instantly acquire.

The weekend of October 17-18, almost the entirety of the cohort in the north (except Guy!) came to Hanoi to celebrate Andy and Skylar’s birthdays. We have like five birthdays in October, and both of our renewals are in close proximity to each other. I got into Hanoi super late that Friday night due to a bunch of logistical nightmares. First, the coach car service I use accidentally switched the addresses for pickup and drop off so erroneously thought I was leaving from Hanoi instead of going *to* Hanoi, which I only figured out about 20 minutes after the pickup time. Then, after they were able to rebook me onto the next car at 7 pm, I arrived in Hanoi at 9 pm. In general, services here operate buses and coaches out of Hanoi from major bus stations in the suburbs.

The Vietnamese government has restrictions on large coach buses operating in the city, which makes sense for congestion and just literal space; a lot of the roads are super narrow and block traffic when a single large coach is anywhere. I learned this during our trip to Ninh Binh during orientation; our coach bus could only sit on the road for like 5-10 minutes before we would get in trouble. So, most coach services, to save money, will have car services from your location in Hanoi, take you and a car full of others to the bus station, then the large van/bus to the city destination, and in my case, another car to your direct house/drop off spot. So in most cases, it involves 2 transfers and 3 vehicles. The hiccup, which Anya discovered one of her first times being in the city, was that upon arrival in Hanoi, they don’t always drop you off in a clear or consistent order. I have been lucky that each time I have gotten off, I am usually the first person in a car of 4-5 people to get dropped off. Unluckily for me, this last time in Hanoi, I was absolutely dead last, and the first person we dropped off needed to be dropped off in a location far west and north of Hanoi. So what would be a direct drive from the bus station to my location, in this case, Skylar’s apartment, which is only about 20-30 minutes, morphed into 1.5 hours. Arriving in Hanoi, it never makes much sense to use this service, so on the way back, I took a Grab bike directly to the station office. It costs extra money, but it gives me far greater peace of mind and less anxiety.

So the first crazy story to come out of Hanoi was the time that two ETAs, actually just one, who will go unnamed here, was staying at Andy’s apartment and locked him and others out on his Friday night birthday weekend. His apartment is a keycode, but it has a deadbolt, and after singing karaoke late at night, I arrived at Andy’s place to see Andy and Jessica loudly banging on the door and calling the two, who were deep asleep and had deadbolted the door, so we couldn’t get in. I was not actually staying at his place that night, but I had left my stuff there, so failing to get their attention or wake them up, Jessica and Andy went to sleep at Sophie’s Airbnb she had gotten for the weekend. Skylar was gracious and kind to let me sleep in her PJs and not my dirty clothes. I got up early to race to Andy’s place, where the very guilty ETAs woke up to some very angry messages. Andy asked her if she had slept well, and I was like, “Of course, she didn’t hear us in the middle of the night”. Andy was so close to finding his outside bedroom window and throwing stones to wake them up, and we shouted as loud as etiquette allowed at 2 in the morning.

We had a large brunch with Chi Diu. We got to visit Andy’s rooftop, which is actually nice, and I finally got my pizza I wanted. Whenever I visit Hanoi, I like to eat pizza, because they make actual good pizza that reminds me of home. They have a Domino’s and a Pizza Hut. We had a large, chill evening at Andy’s place, a belated housewarming, while Jessica and I ate out of my large pizza box on his floor. We visited the Hanoi Pride event, as Hanoi is hosting Pride this month. I thought it was super fun. It is easy walking around Hanoi to stereotype people as looking a certain way or as “not woke” or very traditional, but at Pride, you could see that people here are just as capable of being “alt” or nontraditional and progressive as anywhere in the US.

As a sidebar, LGBTQ issues in Vietnam are complicated but different from Kyrgyzstan, a deeply traditional society (though Bishkek had gleams of progressivism). I think it is a mistake for me to make too much of an assumption, just because I am not living in the rice fields, and I think if I were to ask the Peace Corps Volunteers here, I am sure they would have something different to tell me. But it isn’t like Bishkek was hosting pride events. Anyway, I read that in 2023, Pew Research found that around ⅔ of Vietnamese respondents supported the legalization of same sex marriage. From what I have read and seen, a lot of Southeast Asia and East Asia (aside from Thailand, the sole country in the SE Asia region to legalize same-sex marriage) have a more apathetic attitude towards LGBTQ issues. Of course, it is complex, and religion does play a role (ask the Philippines or Indonesia), but in general, Vietnam is a bit more progressive than its neighbors. I am sure if I spent more time in the rice fields or really small towns, I might find different attitudes, but considering I am living in what Vietnam itself considers a “small town” (200k people), I’ll take what I can get. Young people especially, not just in Vietnam, but in many places around the world, are more supportive than past generations. Some ETAs have told me that their students have come out to them. I guess, not to make assumptions again, but this comes back to the idea that a foreign teacher can pull something out of students that they may not tell all their other teachers. Some of my students have told me heartbreaking stories about themselves or their pasts; others have sent me funny reels on Facebook, and I know for a fact one student is gay, even if he never explicitly told me. He told me he really likes Taylor Swift and it is his dream to attend one of her concerts, and not to overly impose stereotypes, but that was definitely a first hint.

October 20 is Vietnamese Women’s Day. Vietnam is a bit of an outlier, as it doesn’t follow a lot of the designated women’s or teacher’s days followed by many countries around the world (October 5 is World Teacher’s Day, and Women’s Day is March 8. In Vietnam, it is a pretty big holiday, as the cities fill with large sellers of bouquets of flowers. In Lang Son city, I saw large groups of boys outside makeup shops/feminine coded shops waiting to buy presents for girls. Around the city, families, friends, and couples flooded shops, restaurants, and cafes. I even caught two of my students on a date at a cafe. I said hi, left them alone, and casually mentioned in class two days later that I saw them outside of class. The other students in my first-year class said, “We know!” I was so confused, turned to the guy, and asked, “What did you do?” Apparently, he notified the entire class group chat that he saw me and even sent a photo of me at the cafe to them. It is common in Vietnam for the men to treat the women and for them to give gifts, flowers, and to give gifts to teachers.

I brought some flowers for my second-year co-teacher, and some of my students were conspiring during class to surprise me, which was super sweet. I ran upstairs to find Chi Thuy, one of the teachers the students were planning to surprise with a gift, who was teaching my first-year class. That class also gave me a gift, which was sweet, too, but Chi Thuy had disappeared, and they couldn’t find her. After taking some cute photos, I ran through the halls, looking for their teacher. I eventually found her in a random office, where she was chatting with coworkers. “What do you need?” she asked me, and I said, “What do you mean, you have class right now.” “Oh”, she exclaimed, as she had forgotten, and raced back to class, where they presented her gifts. Anyway, on Vietnamese Women’s Day, my students and I got Jollibee (it’s a Filipino fast food restaurant, and they sell fried chicken, burgers, and spaghetti here). The guys paid for ice cream after, and I made them stack their phones in a phone tower, so we could chat. Eventually, when they got sick of that, the boys started practicing their English on Duolingo, and I have personally never gotten so far advanced in Duolingo to the level they were doing; they were totally locked in. I would later learn that the only guy student in the 3rd-year class to give any gifts to his female peers is the one who is gay. How ironic on its face that the only guy in the class who is not attracted to women is the only one who wants to celebrate and give gifts to them.

Chinese dance class and playing pickleball have yielded limited fruit, and sometimes I don’t want to go, but I drag myself on weekdays to go, mostly because it has become a constant part of my routine, and especially, I think, as a way to keep community with the teachers at my school. I hardly ever see many of the teachers outside of class. The day before Vietnamese Women’s Day, we had a big celebration at New Century, a large venue that, oddly enough, reminded me a lot of the wedding venues I used to visit and attend in Kyrgyzstan. Rather than dancing, the big draw here is, unsurprisingly, singing karaoke. I really am sad and miss dancing at Kyrgyz tois, as much as I got pressured into joining the dance circle, it really does make me feel nostalgic for it. At these events, they had similar games, where it sounded like they were doing puzzles and guessing games. I got seated at the table with the Chinese language teachers and Chi Mai. There really doesn’t seem to be official end times for these sorts of events; people just kind of get up and leave. At Kyrgyz events, you knew when the event was over, because the bags would come out to take and divide all the food. I looked up from checking my phone at the big dinner and saw that 70% of the crowd had left. Ms. Trang even told me as much, that people sort of just leave when they want. Anyway, back to pickleball, I think I have gotten *better*, but I struggle to say that I am any good still. Mr. Thuong (pronounced Tung) is nice, but he does not offer the most helpful advice (“Hit it inside the lines, Grace”, yeah, gee, thanks, Mr. Thuong). At Chinese dance class, we have evolved to using streamer fans and wearing matching outfits.

Most of my students are not even familiar with the other teachers at the school, which makes sense, they only focus on the teachers they have. Ms. Trang and Mr. Hoan both teach non-English majors. I have been told that one day I may teach non-English majors, but at the moment, Chi Anh is resistant, and I personally don’t see it as a particularly effective use of my time yet. I glance at the work students do outside of my lessons, which involves a lot of reading and writing, and they understand far more than I think they do, especially the quiet ones.

Really seeing my students outside of class can be very fun, but a part of me yearns to see them in more 3 dimensional ways, but there is a ceiling or wall to run into because of the language barrier. Some of the other ETAs see their students play sports, and I have never gotten to see that yet, though I’m not even sure if and where they do; most seem consumed with work/studying and other hobbies like video games or TikTok reels. What I found most hilarious is that when Ly was asking about my time in Kyrgyzstan, she didn’t open Google or Wikipedia; she opened TikTok to type it in to see reels/videos, not pictures or information.

Students tell me my class is their favorite class, and while I aim to be humble, I both believe them and disbelieve them at the same time. Asking something so frank, I doubt they would tell me to my face, but at the same time, simply making it interesting and engaging is enough for them. I force them to talk, because I surely don’t want to for 3 hours. I refuse to relent to students who are too shy and shake their heads, and I have enough time to stand around and wait for their answer. In some classes with ETAs who have 45-minute windows and hundreds of students, it is nearly impossible to know everyone’s name and give enough focus and time and attention to every student. I balance it precariously, and there are definitely students I need to target to speak more, but in general, everyone will talk. I am so happy that in my first-year class, students even take notes when other students talk, and they are truly listening.

From so many other ETAs, I have heard that discipline and classroom management are rampant issues. It flares up from time to time in mine, and I have lots of days when classes feel meandering, but I always aim for them to get the most out of it. I’ll ask students their favorite English teacher (aside from me) and what makes their classes interesting, and some will frankly tell me which are boring and uninteresting. I only had one class that was 3 hours from start to finish my entire time in college, the rest were 1-1.5 hours multiple times a week. These students have classes from 7-11 and 1-5 with short breaks every hour. At the end of every hour, I give 5-minute breaks, and it is both sad and unsurprising that students whip out their phones, but I have had excellent regulation using phones, and I haven’t had a single whiff of AI inside of the classroom. I don’t use it either when I plan a lesson, because I think if I use it, it gives them permission to use it too. Some ETAs have amazing Canva presentations and some aesthetically gorgeous slides (shoutout to Megan for her space presentation!). Chi Anh actually commented on how aesthetically my slides were improving, though I have never ever given it much thought. While teaching in the Peace Corps, we had the occasional class without power, and I taught my entire first year there without projectors or stable printer access; we just used the textbooks, colored paper/pencils, and the power of fun games. Because most of my classes rely on the textbook, often my slides are literal screenshots of the textbook, and that’s it. We also don’t have wifi in the classrooms, so that does limit what I can do.

When Chi Diu came to visit, I honestly had very little to say. I told Chi Diu directly that I am very happy with my placement. I could not have asked for a better or more beautiful city; sure, there are bigger, wealthier cities out there in Vietnam, but the duck pho, the beautiful mountains, and the weather all make it worth it. I will say that with October coming to a close, I keep wondering if this “cold weather” people warned me about will actually show up, it has been very hot the last few weeks and is only cool at night. I ride my bike at night and have greater geospatial awareness (no Google Maps GPS needed!). My bike says I have clocked 500 km in the six weeks I have had it. I listen to Illenium music as I ride across the large bridges, and I wander through the parks and sit by the cafes at night. I have made it a routine to sit in a cute work cafe called Đi Đâu Đấy Cafe, which has stellar internet, and I do work and fill out grad school applications.

I occasionally visit new cafes/places to eat with students, but even more so now, I find myself visiting the same cute places over and over again. I make myself ramen and eggs in the morning, and I make myself spaghetti bolognese at least once every other week. I most consistently hang out with students after class but find beauty in impromptu plans. I heard an ETA say she was afraid to be seen as desperate or shameless. It makes sense, as we are so very isolated from communities here, and it is not like making friends is super easy back in the US either. I fear it, too, but it is a delicate balancing act. I am alone a lot, but I so rarely feel deeply lonely. How can I, with my cute neighbor kids dancing in the room next to me? How can I, with Minh and Thao and Nhung, taking elaborate photoshoot sessions at the Photobooth? How can I, when my 1st-year students are the first to wave when I pass them? Nobody here has an obligation to give us their time or their company, the students, the teachers, or foreigners, as we are the interlopers, and we have far more money and time than they can imagine. It doesn’t change the yearning for connection or the desire for community, but I think we have to adjust what we want with what is in front of us. I don’t pretend that I don’t have to remind myself of this all the time; lessons like these are ones we have to learn and relearn our entire lives. I find humility in even the simplest things, simply ordering a drink and I butcher my Vietnamese. I say a single sentence, and all my students flatter me: “Oh, teacher, you’re so fluent,” while they will speak entire paragraphs but grow shy when I say their English is really good.

7 weeks into living at site, and I feel ever more comforted that despite the routines I have been establishing, I still have constant surprises and new things to look forward to. Emily in my Peace Corps cohort used to say that she would always think about the next big thing to keep her motivation going. For us, considering the short duration we have here, time feels compressed, and I look forward to even the small things, like waking up to eat duck pho or looking forward to teaching a specific class or going to a specific cafe on Monday mornings. 3 weeks after my last post, I have found myself in a routine phase, where learning new things and going to new places everyday has tapered off and lost its edge, but the desire for spontaneity has not. In the small moments where I have no camera or phone, I try to capture it all with my all my senses, the confetti bursting and descending on the crowds of dancers at the 1900 club, the churning water by the dam on the lower bridge, the smell of freshly made duck pho, the taste of passion fruit boba juice, the roaring engines of bike riders at night driving through the city, the newly wrapped pink bouquet of flowers gifted to teachers, the shutter of the camera inside the photobooth, the rainbow lights that engulf the highway bridge, the sounds of the kids next door dancing and shouting, and the sound of my students’ unrestrained laughter. About 7 weeks down, 30 more to go!

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À Bientôt 

Grace