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My Educator of the Year MAG
Whenever I tell people that I am going to major in Chinese, they are often impressed, confused, and curious all at the same time. It usually goes a little bit like this, “Chinese! How on Earth did you pick that?” And my answer is simple: I was inspired by my high school Chinese teacher, Mrs. Yao. That is why I am nominating this incredible woman for educator of the year.
Mrs. Yao, or Laoshi as her students call her, is not your average teacher. She is 5 feet (5’ 3” with her stylish heels) of pure passion for her students. She is zany and outgoing, and everyone that she meets absolutely loves her. She knows about each of her students: what sports they play, what kind of music they like, and who’s dating whom. Every Monday she asks us how each of our weekends were and what we did, but we have to answer in Chinese, of course.
There have been so many good times in her classroom. I remember once when Mrs. Yao told us that she had wanted to be a comedian back in China. Honestly, she could have been too; she is hilarious! She wants learning to be fun for us so she incorporates singing and dancing into our class, pushing us outside of our comfort zones. By the end of class, we are all smiling, laughing, and learning together. After four years together, our Chinese class feels like a family.
Sometimes she gives us all some tough love. Unlike most classes, if you don’t do her homework, you get a detention. This may sound unfair, but she realizes that Chinese is a difficult language, and in order to succeed, you need to put in the work. And if you miss a lesson, you will fall behind. I can’t lie -- I’ve spent a few afternoons in detention wishing I had done my homework. However, if the whole class does their homework, we get a sticker. And once we get enough stickers, we earn a party, or “pai dui!”
I will never forget my trip to China with Mrs. Yao. It was the most incredible experience of my life. However, travel never goes completely as planned. One night in Shanghai, I slipped on the wet bathroom floor in the hotel room. As I fell, I grabbed the wall to catch myself, but there had been a nail sticking out and I cut my hand open pretty badly. One of my classmates quickly got Mrs. Yao while another stayed to help me stop the bleeding.
Mrs. Yao, along with a few hotel employees, were soon at the door speaking so frantically in Mandarin that my brain couldn’t process a single word. Apparently, the hotel employees were angry that I had bled on their towels and bed (China is very different from the US) but a furious Ms. Yao, like a mama bear defending her cubs, demanded to speak with someone else.
Another man arrived, and being the charming little lady that everyone loves, Mrs. Yao soon had the whole problem taken care of and her and the man were laughing, yes laughing together. She came back into the room where my eyes were red with tears, sat down with me and said something I will never forget, “Don’t worry, I will always protect my students.” With a few layers of bandages, I was still able to enjoy the rest of the trip and make countless memories. I even got to take home a scar as a souvenir.
Mrs. Yao is so much more than an ordinary teacher. She saw a passion for learning Chinese in me and pushed me to always work harder. She can be tough on me at times, but only because she knows that I’m not reaching my full potential.
She is the person I have to thank for helping me figure out what I want to do in college, and she is my educator of the year. My college Chinese professor is going to have some pretty big shoes--I mean heels--to fill in order to live up to Mrs. Yao.
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