A Humbling Experience. A Dumb American. A Near Riot.

A few weeks ago I had an embarrassing reminder of just how ignorant Americans sometimes are about the rest of the world…me included.

I was playing a game with one of my most advanced junior 1 classes (11-13 year olds) and everything was going smoothly until the very end of class. I had the class divided into two teams, girls versus boys. (Chinese people go nuts for any kind of competition and when I’m looking for a sure fire way to get every student interested and involved in a lesson I simply split them into teams and watch as epic battles ensue.) For this particular game I asked a person from each team a question (exp. How many states are there in America?). If they answered correctly they had a chance to throw a paper airplane at a large dartboard-esque target I drew on the blackboard.

The trouble began right after the final bell rang, signaling the end of class. When the bell rang the girl’s team (ironically named “The Winners”) was trailing the boys with a score of 25 to 45. I decided to give them one more shot. Almost every girl in class shot her hand up in the air to answer a question, eager for a chance to redeem their gender and snatch victory from the boys. The previous two questions I asked students to name the capitals of France and the U.S.A., so I decided to keep on this track and ask another capital. I chose a tiny girl with huge glasses to answer the question. She stood up with a massive grin on her face. “What,” I said without thinking, “is the capital of Australia?” (Before you read any further, please stop for a moment and ask yourself the same question. Do you know the answer? Are you sure? Ok, read ahead.)

Without pausing the student confidently answered the question. The only problem was, I either didn’t hear or didn’t understand what she said. “Can you repeat that?” I asked. She said it again. Whatever she was saying started with a K or a C, but I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. “Please spell that,” I said to her. “C A N B E R R A,” she said, pronouncing each letter clearly and pointedly. I wrote it on the board and stared long and hard. Canberra? I’d never even heard of that. “Wrong!” I yelled. “The correct answer is Sydney.”

That was it, the girls lost it. “No! No! You are wrong,” they screamed. “Our Chinese teacher told us the capital of Australia is Canberra!” It was at this point that I dug myself deeper into a hole that was already bored through the middle of the earth. “Well then, I’m sorry but your Chinese teacher is wrong,” I blithely said. “The boys win.”

Pandemonium. Anarchy. The girls were all standing and shouting at me in Chinese. I had no idea what they were saying, but they were frothing at the mouth. Two girls burst into tears. An unknown assailant chucked a wad of paper at my head. A few girls stood on their desks and began pumping their fists in the air (yes, this REALLY happened). I was half expecting a Molotov cocktail to smack me in the face. The boys meanwhile sat calmly in their desks, snarky grins smeared across their faces.

Things looked bad and I had to act quickly. “Maybe I’m wrong about Australia,” I sheepishly admitted. “I’ll look up the right answer for next class.” Then I gave the girls another question (the capital of England), which they easily got right. The tiny girl with huge glasses took a shot at the target with her paper airplane and missed. The boys won and I hurried out of class with my tail between my legs.

As soon as I stepped out of the classroom I phoned Tess (a fellow WorldTeach teacher at my school), told her my sorry tale, and then asked her the capital of Australia. She wasn't sure either, so she looked it up online and low and behold, the girls were right. I quickly thanked her and hung up. I felt queasy. Attempting to salvage some pride, I next called Jackie, another WorldTeach teacher and one who had just returned from a vacation in Australia weeks prior. If she didn’t know the answer, I reasoned, I was partially pardoned because most Americans must be ignorant shmucks when it comes to our friends in Oceania.

Jackie didn’t know either.

The next week I returned to the riotous class, confessed my sin, and apologized. Actually, the class seemed to have forgotten the whole incident. “Mei guan xi! Mei guan xi! Mei shi,” they kept saying. It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Still, I’m not sure how much effect the incident had on my credibility with the class or the amount of respect they have for me.

Stupid Americans. I knew I should have taken geography in high school.