The status of a teacher in the Chinese culture (London)

The lunch routine at the Chinese community centre canteen where I teach Mandarin and English is:  when done with eating, take the plate to the trolley, scrape off uneaten scraps into the bin, then place the cutlery in one plastic basin and the crockery in the other. 

One day, a young man — in his late 20s / early 30s(??) from Hong Kong whom I’d never seen before — was the last to finish his meal.  He took the whole lot to the kitchen.  I told him that plates were to be taken to the trolley, not straight to the kitchen.  He gave me a look of disdain, and went back to his table.

Once my teaching table was set up on the other side of the canteen, he realised I was a teacher.  Walking past my table when leaving the canteen, he said a very respectful, “See you, Teacher!” in Cantonese.

(London, 2022)

See also: https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2012/03/old-man-in-chinatown-london-uk.html

Licking the spoon (Singapore)

The middle three of the five children in my family were sent off to live with Grandma on her coconut plantation once they were born, as there wasn’t enough space at my mother’s rented room.

Grandma’s plantation, out east not far from Changi International Airport, had no electricity before sundown — after sunset, the village generator would run until 11pm — therefore no fridge.  My mother’s brother, who lived with my grandma as he was the older son, was also very strict about unhealthy eating, so no chocolate and no Coca Cola.

Every now and then, my third sister would come to stay in my mother’s bungalow house in suburban Singapore.  

She’d go straight to the fridge the moment she arrived, fill a tall glass with ice cubes and coke, then go and sit on the floor of the front verandah against a wall. 

To eke out the enjoyment, she wouldn’t drink it, not even in sips.  She’d dip the long-handled spoon into the ice cold coke, lift it to her mouth, and lick the spoon for the flavour on her tongue.  There she’d sit for ages, stretching out the enjoyment of a chilled soft drink this way.  

I’ve since coined the phrase “Licking the spoon” for enjoyable things in my life.  If I’m having fun at a party but have to go to work the next day, I’d say, “I want to lick the spoon.  I can catch up on sleep another day.”

(Singapore, 1960s)

How to get children to eat their food: 01 (London)

Dinner trick I played on the boys (James, aged 7, and William, 4.5) I was childminding last night:

Asked them around 5pm if their dinner time was the same as term time (5:30pm).  They said they weren’t hungry (I’d given them apple around 4pm). I said maybe dinner around 6.  James said he wasn’t hungry at all.  William echoed it.

At 5:30, I asked again, got the same answer, so I said I was going ahead and eating without them.

When I went back into the living room with my food, saying what a good cook daddy was and how yummy the food was, they changed their minds immediately. 

Not only that, they then asked for a second helping — same amount as the first, they said!

When they started to lose interest half way through the second helping, I said they shouldn’t have asked for a full second helping, that I shouldn’t have believed them, that I wouldn’t make the mistake of believing them again, that they should stick to their word, that trust is important.  

James the negotiator then backtracked and said he would eat it, but later.

When William wanted me to play ball, I said, “Food first, then I’ll play ball.”  

This way, I managed to get them to finish their food, feeding them spoonful by spoonful.

(London, 2022)

See also:  https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/10/trick-or-treat.html

Chinese grown-ups' consolation for children/others

Throughout my life, I’d be the first port of call for mosquitoes — in any country.  I react very badly to mosquito bites: they’d swell up into a hard, hot, itchy lump.  In Finland, after an al fresco meal at my friends’ summer house, I got back to my hotel to find both legs covered in bites.  I counted them: 37 on one leg, 34 on the other.  The lumps merged into each other.  I looked like I had elephantiasis.  As a child, the grown-ups would offer the consolation:  you have intelligent blood.

If you’re vertically challenged, they’d say it’s because you’re extra clever.  All your energies have gone into developing your brain power, so the rest of your body is deprived.

Ditto if you start to lose your hair.  There’s a Chinese saying 聰明絕頂 / 聪明绝顶 / cōngmíng jué dǐng / “clever bright extreme top”.  It means “clever to the highest degree”, but the pun-loving Chinese like to put a different spin on it: that “everything stops growing on the top of the head (头顶 tóu dǐng) if someone knows too much knowledge” (李懿 / Li Yi, 2022).

Even the dog has to do it (Singapore)

A very sharp-eyed PhD student from China made the observation that I always eat my food in such a way that leaves the plate totally clean.

This brings to mind what I used to do with my pet dog, Bear Bear.

In our family (not sure if other Chinese families do the same thing), we’d feed our dog and cat rice and some fish/meat and veg.  Not really a deliberate choice: there was no commercial dog food in those days; the (southern) Chinese diet is practically always rice-based, so the family pets got what the rest of the family ate.

I’d stand by my dog Bear Bear and make sure he finished all his food.  I’d point out the grains he’d not picked up, “Here, you missed this one,” and he’d eat it.  I’d then point out another one, “There, you missed that one,” and he’d eat it — every single one until the dish was completely empty.  Such a compliant dog, putting up with me and my fussiness!

(London, 2022 / Singapore, 1960s–70s)