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kcmyers
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Name: Kenneth (Kc)
Birthday: 9/4/1981
Gender: Male
Interests: Enjoying life, making Megan laugh, working hard, fixing stuff, reading, writing, teaching, learning, traveling, and playing the piano and guitar.
Expertise: Teaching students ages pre-K through junior high school.
Occupation: Education/training
Industry: Nonprofit
Member Since:
2/6/2006
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| Thanksgiving Day ~ Part I:
*Please read the following entries in succession.
There
are so many things for which to be thankful. Looking back on a year of
great faithfulness, it is easy to see the mercies and loving-kindness
of my father. He has blessed me abundantly, provided for me, and has
certainly led me to make make decisions- be they simple or difficult,
small or monumental. He has certainly been gracious to me, and I urge
everyone who reads this to consider again the goodness and greatness of
our father. As you consider his faithfulness, allow me to share one of the greatest gifts he has afforded me.
Let's
start at the very beginning. A year ago, and after a lovely
Thanksgiving night, Megan asked me to walk her home. Now this might
not surprise many of you. However, three weeks before, Megan had
turned me down when I asked her to date me. Apparently, something had
changed, and, most likely, the thing that changed was Megan's mind. As
we were walking to her apartment in the 30° F night air (I, without
socks), Megan asked me if I wanted to look at the stars for a few
minutes. In case you were wondering, stars are not something you see
in Beijing, save on the rarest of occasions. This night, they were out
in force. I happily acquiesced and in a few minutes, I was showing her
the constellations my father had shown me when we lived in Virgina. I
did not know it then, but knowledge like that comes in handy when
wooing a woman.
And it must have worked. A week later, we were dating.
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| Thanksgiving Day ~ Part II:
In the
blink of an eye, it was two weeks before Thanksgiving. I had purchased
a ring from Blue Nile, as had my brother before me, but encountered a
problem. It arrived at my billing address and not my mailing address.
I had two weeks to get it to Beijing. After much consideration, and a
week of pulling strings, we mailed it through FedEx. It was due to
arrive the Monday before Thanksgiving.
The delivery was not
as smooth as I would have liked. On Monday I waited outside for nearly
two hours. The deliveryman never came. I informed Fed Ex of the
oversight and they promised it would be delivered the following day. I
asked them to contact me via cell phone when the truck was about to
arrive so that I wouldn't have to wait in the cold. In a twist of
fate, I was called at 11:00 sharp... during the one class that I have
on Tuesday. I had no choice. I had to answer the phone.
"Students,
I have to take this call. Please finish activity three on page 41 and
I will be back shortly." I said, retreating into the hallway.
A
Chinese man greeted me on the other end of the phone and our 1 minute
phone conversation was entirely in Chinese. I had 15 minutes left in
class, and the delivery man needed to see me at the gate to know who
for whom the package was intended. I returned to class, asked them to
close their books, stand up, and quietly follow me. I explained only as
much as was necessary, but was asked repetitively, "Mr. Myers, what is
in the box? What is in the box?"
Finally, I responded. "It's medicine. For my heart."
We
arrived at the gate and I managed to pick up the package, return to
class, and finish the chapter in the remaining 5 minutes of class.
After the students had left, I tore away the bag and opened the sealed
box. Inside was another sealed bag. I put the bag in my computer case and
retreated to my room to see the precious contents.
Over the next
few days, I felt like Golem. I had hidden the ring behind my files in
my desk and kept pulling it out if only to see it shine. As I sat there, I
almost felt like calling it my precious, but reason eventually
prevailed.
Next on the agenda was to call her father. I
attempted to ease my anxiety by sending him an e-mail with overt
references to me wanting to ask a question concerning his daughter. He
responded back quickly, and we scheduled Wednesday as the day I would
call and ask my question.
Many
guys talk about how terrified they are when they ask the question.
They talk of how their hands get sweaty and their voices shrivel and
crack- how they have the entire conversation planned out and see their
plans wither to nothing when it matters most. They would be absolutely
right. I would have been a nervous wreck if I had given myself time to
think about it. As it was, I had three classes before the window I was
given, and by the time I made it back to my room, there was no time to
prepare myself. After the first ring, Dale picked up the phone and
greeted me. The first ring! Usually it takes me three or four tries
to actually get up the gumption to make a call, and every ring gives added encouragement to hang up and try again later. Against all fears, our
conversation went fantastically. He consented, gave advice, asked
questions, and earnestly conveyed his excitement for both Megan and me.
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| Thanksgiving Day ~ Part III:
Thanksgiving Day was one of the longest days of my life. Two guys and I had to prepare enough chicken for 30 people to consume, which only took a few hours, thanks to the convenience of rotisserie baked chicken provided by our local Carrefour (i.e. French Walmart). We stuffed ourselves silly, waited an hour, played a wonderful game of football, and enjoyed cake and cider during a showing of Home Alone. Normally, I would be glad to watch two hours of slapstick humor after a rousing game of football. That night, I hated the movie. I considered running out and throwing up in the bathroom a couple of times during that flick, but decided to stick it out. Nerves were getting to me. When the movie finished, we hung out for an hour and started to say our goodbyes.
It was at this time that Megan and I decided to walk back together. We dropped our things off at her apartment and left for the rooftop. Megan suspected nothing, and I knew that my diabolical plan was working perfectly.
To the casual observer, the rooftop is nothing special. It looks like the top of any building in China. It is mostly concrete, has a four foot ledge around the perimeter, and holds nothing more than the motor for the elevator and a couple of air conditioning units. Yet, this rooftop was the place where I first knew, a year ago, that I wanted to be with Megan. It is a place that means virtually nothing to anyone else but us, and that is why it had to be there and then that I proposed to Megan.
I remember exactly what I said, but that shall remain between the two of us. Suffice it to say this: in such a moment as that, even a maundering, stuttering fool becomes the most eloquent, lucid speaker in all the world- for he doesn't speak from a bewildered and bumbling mind, but from the calm and collected confidence of his heart.
And she said, "Yes."
"He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the LORD... Houses and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from the LORD."
Megan Christine Myers. The name has a certain... ring to it, doesn't it?
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| Voting and Elections:
November 7th was an interesting day for many reasons. First, the temperature in Beijing was a little bit warmer due to all the heat coming from America. Yahoo! News (which is, in conjunction with the China Daily, my primary news network) was filled with both pomp and parade regarding the Democratic takeover, and I can't imagine the papers in America being any different. Here is where I must leave discussion of American politics, however fun it may be, for there are few things that drive bigger wedges than trans- partisan bickering.
The second, and more pertinent reason to this entry is the fact that November 7th is Election Day for the Chinese as well. In contrast to American voting, every registered voter mandated to go to their local polling station and vote for various candidates, who represent them in their local people's congress. They receive a certificate to prove that they have voted after showing their citizen's card, signing their name to their ballot, and dropping the ballot in a designated box. I recently read that even foreigners have the privilege of voting, if they so desire and carry documentation of permanent residency.
  Left: Students and residents casting their ballots Right: A Chinese man peruses the four potential candidates, one of whom is our headmaster (far left)
Megan
and I were able to enter one of these polling stations located in the Renda gymnasium and take pictures of the process. Apparently, each
person selects three of four names. Of the four people, three will be
elected as deputies for their local people's congress. I was able to communicate with several of Megan's
students, asking them about the process of voting and election. Many had seen the brief
biographies of the candidates outside the polling station, however, other students had no idea who the people were (or even their gender)
and made their selections based upon whether or not they liked the
sound of their names. Because I mentioned that I knew one of the
candidates, a student asked me if she was a kind and intelligent
woman. I told him what I knew about her and he informed me that, based
upon my opinions, he would certainly vote for her.
It is easy to see the differences between American voting and Chinese voting. Similarities can be seen as well. Whatever the case, the Chinese are very proud that they have the opportunity to vote for their representatives and assert vehemently that it is their democratic right. I am not entirely sure how the Communist party intertwines with these elected officials, neither am I sure to what capacity these deputies fulfill their appointment, but my best guess is that they present the suggestions, opinions, and demands of the public to the party officials who then move the government for change. Deputies meet once a year in an enormous conference (with 4,403 deputies in the 18 surrounding districts and counties), while various standing committees meet more regularly, perhaps once every couple of months.
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| Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign:
Nearly a week ago, leaders from all over Africa gathered together to discuss economics and politics with members of the Chinese government. Several trade agreements were reached, including many pledges of support for impoverished African nations and their minorities. It was an enormous summit, drawing international acclaim and attention. Yet, surrounding the summit, were many interesting occurrences.
The weather was incredible for two weeks. Numerous independent drivers stayed off the roads and some of the pollutive factories were closed. Other measures were taken as well. I am not sure if the weather was manipulated by silver nitrate rockets, but the sky was gorgeous and clear for those few weeks.
Members of the summit were put up in the myriad of five-star hotels near the city's center. In addition to putting them in the nicest apartments in all of Beijing, the top chefs from around the city were requested to come to the hotels and local restaurants to cater for the dignitaries.
In an effort to decrease traffic during peak hours, all schools in Beijing were let out two to four hours early. Our schedules changed 4 or 5 times. The three school days for the summit were incredibly complex, and required an enormous amount of flexibility. Our school (our teachers) handled the changes heroically.
Signs reading, "Welcome to Beijing Summit!" "Congratulations on the Opening of Beijing Summit!" "Peace, prosperity, cooperation, and friendship," and numerous others were plastered all over the city. Nearly every single billboard was covered with these red signs. Companies would make their own and hang their red welcome banners in front of their shops. Some roads had these signs as far as the eye could see. Our street was not spared.
  Some of the thousands of signs plastered around our school
(these two big ones were about 400 yards apart).
Given this amount of publicity for this week-long venture, I cannot imagine what the Olympics are going to look like in 2008, with four years of preparation going into it.
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