“No man can order his life, for it comes flowing over him from behind . . .” (George MacDonald)
We left Seoul to be house parents for high school boys from China in Macon, Georgia. Macon is located about an hour and a half from Atlanta and five hours south of Knoxville. Home of the Allman Brothers and Little Richard, Macon also includes the Ocmulgee Mounds, which show evidence of American Indian culture as far back as 12,000 BC. These mounds are the site of the largest archaeological dig ever conducted in the US, beginning in 1933, resulting in about 2.5 million artifacts.
When we arrived, we reached a cul-de-sac in a typical suburban neighborhood then headed down a long tree-lined driveway. As we approached our new home, we were surprised by its size and appearance—a beautiful eight-bedroom home on the grounds of the school campus.
We had the house to ourselves for a few days as we unpacked and prepared to meet our new family members. When they arrived, we prepared meals, helped them understand American culture and school requirements, and drove them where they needed to go. (I also taught part-time and Geetha worked in the library.) We were given a large maroon van to use on our group excursions with ten people—four in our family plus six high school boys. A few weeks later it became apparent that one of the boys was not a good fit for the school so we were left with five boys. (That’s a whole story in itself.)
Our daughters enjoyed their first non-Asian school and quickly adopted Southern culture. They got monograms on their backpacks and started listening to country music. This was their first school with all American classmates and they enjoyed it—their classmates were friendly and the academic pressure was lower.
Teaching
Before the school year began I had a conversation with a veteran teacher, who had been at the school for many years. After telling me about his experience teaching different grades, he said firmly, “Go middle school.” I had no idea that three years later I would “go middle school” in China.
I taught tenth grade students and a few seniors. I had to get used to Southern names and Southern culture. Some students were high performing academically, but overall, they were not as studious as I was used to in Asia. Many were interested in sports or hunting. In fact, I learned a bit about hunting from the stories they shared in class. Several students were enjoyable to teach and talented in the arts or athletics. But others were more challenging.
During a group presentation, one student went to the front of the classroom and laid down on the floor. When I told him to get up, he didn’t move.
What am I doing? I have to find another career. I’ve been working with teenagers for too long, I thought.
Another time, a group of tenth-grade boys, who were all taller than me, got up from their desks and encircled me in class, preventing me from moving for a couple seconds. It was only a joke, but it was also uncomfortable.
One day I wore a sports coat to class. A student who had given me a hard time, came up to me, patted me on the chest, and said, “You look good, boy.”
I called his mom that evening and told her what happened. She wasn’t happy.
The next day as he was walking out of the classroom with his back turned to me he apologized.
“Excuse me. What did you say?”
He then turned and faced me and apologized again.
“I care about you and I care about your future,” I said.
On the final exam he wrote about this experience and how it helped him.
To be fair, I only had a few episodes like this. Most of the students were respectful. I realize now that I was a misfit. The students probably didn’t know what to make of me—a guy who had lived in Asia for several years and didn’t have a Southern accent.
On the other hand, I learned that a particular class of mine was especially challenging.
“I went part-time because of that class,” a colleague shared with me.
Making Meals
What was life like in the house with guys from China?
When they came home from school they often asked, “What’s for dinner?” After hearing that question a few times, we decided to create a weekly menu: Mexican Monday, Asian Tuesday, etc. We quickly learned that it was difficult to please five boys from wealthy families who come from different parts of China.
One night Geetha made chicken pot pie. The guys didn’t love it. Around 9:30 p.m. we heard sounds coming from the kitchen so we went to check on things. They were making Ramen noodles and eggs. Dan asked about chocolate milk so I taught him how to add Hershey’s syrup to milk to make chocolate milk. Dinner clearly hadn’t filled them up.
I knew they thought highly of their grandmothers’ cooking so I asked, “Can you get the recipes from your grandmothers so we can try to make the food you like?”
“The cooks in China don’t use recipes,” Dan replied.
“Well, what food do you like?”
“I love curry,” James exclaimed.
“I made curry. Remember my chicken curry,” Geetha said.
“I wasn’t here” James said.
“Yeah, you were here,” we replied.
Dinner Time
Eating together at our large wooden table was awkward at times. I tried to start conversations, but usually they didn’t go far.
“Why don’t you talk during dinner?” I asked one student when he was by himself.
“Sleep without words and eat without words,” Nick replied. (Names have been changed.) “That’s a Chinese saying.” “My parents told me not to speak when I eat.”
“Really?” I asked incredulously.
I asked James and Leo about this Chinese saying.
“That’s old China,” James replied. “We don’t really follow that anymore.”
Leo said, “Maybe in his family, that’s a rule, but not mine.”
Perhaps our soundless meals were due to the dynamics of our home. While they came to America to improve their English and get ready for college in the US, it was hard for them not to speak their first language. Being with us at the dinner table must have been somewhat uncomfortable since it was the one time they needed to converse in English in the home.
In addition, our personalities are not the most conducive to conversation. Geetha and I are not the most talkative people nor are our girls. In fact, her mom calls us “the quiet family.”
But quiet dinners may not be a cultural or a language thing; they may be a teenage thing. I didn’t grow up eating with my family at the dinner table. My teenage memories of family meals are limited to Sunday afternoons eating pasta after church while we watched TV. During the week, we mostly ate dinner at separate times.
We, on the other hand, ate with the guys four or five times a week. To be fair to them, I don’t think I would have had much to talk about every day at their age either. I tried to convince Geetha to give the boys more freedom during dinner time to eat when and where they wanted, but she liked having everyone eat together partly because it made clean up easier. Fortunately, after some cajoling she agreed to allow everyone to sit where they wanted once a week.
About a week after we made our new plan we sat around the circular table in the kitchen while the boys sat in the dining room. But Geetha thought it felt weird so she took her plate and started to move toward the dining room table.
“Don’t you think that’s strange?” I asked. “Your girls are sitting here and you are going to sit with the boys?”
“Yeah, Mommy,” Olivia interjected, “this is our night to eat wherever we want.”
Geetha then changed her plan and told me, “OK, you sit with the boys.”
Turbo Dancing
Of course, we had several lost in translation or lost in pronunciation experiences.
One of the school traditions is for guys to invite girls to a dance by writing a message on a big sign. Ron wanted Geetha and the girls to help him make a sign that said, “This guy has turbo dance.”
“Don’t you want to say, ‘This guy can turbo dance’,” Geetha asked?
“OK,” Ron replied.
We had been overseas for three years so we thought maybe turbo dance was a new type of dance that we had missed.
When the sign was completed, Geetha asked Ron, “What’s turbo dancing?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you told us to write it.”
They continued prodding then realized that Ron was saying “terrible” not “turbo.” He wanted them to write something like, “This guy is a terrible dancer, but will you still go to the dance with him?”
Hard Rock Café
We took the guys to Atlanta to see the aquarium and the Coca-Cola museum. After visiting the museum, we walked to Hard Rock Café with our bottles of Coke. When we sat down the waiter told us that Hard Rock was at war with Coke so we would have to remove our Coke bottles from the table. He gave us a large bag for all of our Coke products.
Apparently, Hard Rock used to serve Coke products, but they stopped doing so due to a disagreement. The Seminoles, an American Indian tribe, owns Hard Rock, and they wanted the Atlanta Braves to stop their fans from doing the Indian chant with their arm-chopping motion during games. Since Coke is a supporter of the Braves, Hard Rock wanted Coke to help end the chant, but Coke refused. The Hard Rock-Coke war ensued. I should say I haven’t researched this story thoroughly, but that is the account the waiter told us and he was serious about us removing our Coke products.
After we ordered, Nick came to me and said, “Excuse me,” then left. I assumed he was going to the restroom. After about fifteen minutes we started to get concerned.
“Where’s Nick?” A couple guys had gone to the restroom but when I asked, “Did you see Nick?” they replied, “No, he wasn’t there.”
The food arrived and Nick was still missing. So I finally got up and went to look for him in the restroom. I didn’t see him, but there was one stall with a closed door so I called out, “Nick.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you doing?”
“What’s that?”
“What are you doing?”
“Playing video games” he said, as he walked out of the stall.
“Nick, that is very strange behavior. You’ve been gone for a long time, your food is on the table, and you’re in the bathroom playing video games.”
Spring Semester
In the spring semester we were told that the school wanted to fill the international house as much as possible during the next school year, which meant the possibility of nine boys. Geetha and I discussed it and concluded that if they could keep the number to five or six we could manage, but we couldn’t give our daughters proper attention and take care of nine boys. We talked to the head principal and told him how we felt. He was disappointed, but didn’t try to encourage us to stay.
Although we only stayed for a year, it coincided with Geetha’s parents fiftieth wedding anniversary so we were able to host the big event in the biggest home we ever had.
After graduating from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, I served as a high school Bible teacher in Asia. I enjoy traveling, writing, and playing the drums. My latest book focuses on Paul’s work as a tentmaker and what it means for today.