ARTILCES

MY KIND ENGLISH TEACHER

By: Palchen Dorjee
I really hope I am not making a breach of conduct by describing my Chinese teacher in glowing terms. Sometimes our judgments are blinded by political differences, not every Chinese is a monstrous dragon as with our pre-conceived notion often suggest. However, a story of my Chinese teacher had completely altered my impression of Chinese being evil and wicket. In this article I would like to share my encounter with a Chinese teacher who taught me many virtues.  
When I was in the fourth grade, we had a new Chinese language teacher. On his first day, he didn’t make much impression with his lean figure and protruding cheekbones. He speaks in a deep sonorous voice that later became a bud of jokes and frequent mimics by the students in the classroom. Even I tried to mimic him many times the manner in which he pronounces poetic words like ‘the sea albatross’. But, he won over our hearts in due course of time by his acts of love and care for us.

He brings many books to the classroom on every topic from his own personal collection. However his books would soon meet ridicules and sad end when they would either dumped into waste bin or made a bonfire out of it. But, he never complained. It takes our pranks quietly. I have some of my best moments with him when he asked us to memorize a particular poem. Those who failed to do so would be detained for the weekend. I would invariably be on the list. He would reprimand us with few hours of study before he relents and had us invited to his room.  

When his cook was not there in the house, he would serve us from his own kitchen. We watched Television and sang together. In that way our best moments were spent. In fact, we have literally robbed him of hundreds of yuan when our school demands occasional electricity and medical fees. Very kindly he would generously pay the fees on our behalf so that we could pay him later. However, most of us would not pay back the money to him thinking to ourselves the money will go to the school. 
 
When we passed from our primary school, some of us with good grades in studies were eligible to continue our study in some of reputed Chinese schools, far away in the heart of Mainland China. Surprisingly, he advised us against our opinion of going to pursue our studies in the heart of China explaining to us that it would only estrange us from our Tibetan roots. Eventually everyone of us agreed and listened to his kind and sound advice.  

One day an unforgettable incident took place. A mischievous student in our class wrote ‘Chairman Mao is a bad man’ on the black board. He saw it and his face turned red but he didn’t express anything. He casually rubbed off the letters from the black board and resumed the lesson as usual. During his three years period as a teacher for us, I had never heard him using abusive and demeaning words and statements against the Dalai Lama. Instead he would carry with him a rosary and chant ‘mani’ mantra in his heavy Mandarin accent. We made many promises for him, a do list when we come of age. 

I harboured a thought of presenting him with a motorcycle one day when I grow up as a big man. It was very strange that we had a special affection for our Chinese teacher even though when there were many Tibetan teachers in our midst. Sometimes, our Chinese teacher was more than a person who impart bookish knowledge for us. On contrary he had became a light of knowledge for us. He was simply a teacher who exudes love and care. His personal aura drew the students around him. He charmed the students with all of his all pervading loving kindness and concern for us.

In due course of time, we emulated his manners and his hand-writing. Despite the fact that he was a Chinese, an occupier for us and we hated them (Chinese), but he and we were connected by his special thick bond of warmth and intimacy that existed between us. I remained forever indebted to his admirable personality.  

It has been ages since I haven’t seen my Chinese teacher Yiu Pin Chieun. But his memory still remained fresh and his contribution lingers vividly in front of my eyes.  At least our country under the shadow of Mao’s occupation, there were few Chinese like him, a hopeful reminder of a faint light in the darkness, or what is after all a fateful and tragic era in Tibet’s entire history and perhaps in the histories that are to come