“Do you have a boyfriennnd?"

So. Today I taught my first class at the university. I got up two hours beforehand to get myself pumped up for teaching, left my apartment 30 minutes early to ensure a prompt arrival, and confidently inserted my key into the lock at Room 601 of the Foreign Language Building and turned.

Pop.

Um. What? I pull out the key, only to find that half of it has broken off into the lock. FML.

Be cool, be cool, you have 20 minutes to solve this problem, I think to myself as I look around for some assistance. I find one of the staff members and launch into some broken Chinese about how half my key is in my hand and half of it is wedged deep inside the door and I need to teach in less than 20 minutes. She takes me to another room down the hall to use for the day while the staff sorts out the lock issue.

As I set up shop in the new room, I think to myself: Okay, we’re good to go. I’ll just direct my eager students down the hall into this new, spiffy classroom, where they will be immediately enthralled with my awesome instructional capabilities.

And I wait. And wait. 9:45am comes and go, and no students. Nowhere. My classroom is conspicuously lacking in students. Just me and the crickets. Yep, it’s looking like I’m going to be teaching myself today.

By 9:55am, I head down to the secretary’s office to inquire into the whereabouts of my 35 missing freshmen. Again, I launch into some broken Chinese, which seems to do the trick, and the secretary says, “Room 104! Go there! They are running there right now!”

Sounds urgent. So I hoist my backpack full of teaching goodies onto my back, hurry down 5 flights of stairs, and rush breathlessly into Room 104.

No students. Again, just me and the crickets.

Just when I’m about to start wondering if I’m really teaching at this university, I hear a stampede coming down the hall, and poke my head through the doorway just in time to see 35 Chinese freshmen literally sprinting down the hall, books in hand, shouting, “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!!”

I do have students. This seems promising. So, I welcome them into our makeshift classroom in Room 104 and try to introduce myself and begin the lesson (only about 25 minutes late).

So, here I am, telling my pupils where I’m from and the classroom rules, when all of the sudden, I notice something strange. About 6 of the students have their cell phones out. Pointed at me. Pointed directly at my face.

Click, click, click, click, click.

Seriously? They ‘re taking pictures of me? During class?

“What are you guys doing? It’s the middle of class!” I say, motioning for them to put away the cell phones.

A particularly vocal and fearless student quips, “It’s just that you are sooo beautiful.”

….Hmm….

“That is not appropriate. Put your phones away!” I try to be casual and humorous about the situation, but I soon find that this is a mistake, because the flirtatious banter continues sporadically throughout the hour.

“Do you have any questions?” I ask the class after the introduction, hoping for some penetrating questions about American culture.

“Do you have a boyfriennnnnd?”

“Is everyone in the US as beautiful as you?”

“Can I take a photo with you?”

“Do you want to make happy with us this weekend?” (A disclaimer: the student meant “have fun”—as in play.)

…This is getting ridiculous here. Finally, one of the shyer girls pipes up, “What’s American college life like?”

Hallelujah! Something relevant! Something completed unrelated to inappropriate student-teach dynamics. I thank her for her question and direct the class into a conversation related to the differences between American and Chinese universities.

Thus, my first day as a college teacher in Hangzhou. Extremely entertaining, yes, but also exceedingly disturbing. I have four more classes to meet this week—it shall be interesting to see how bold the rest of my students will be.