Guido’s experience report from Hangzhou
At 68, back in front of a class of strangers
Guido
Visiting Lecturer in Hangzhou – Drive and Control Technology
When the enquiry came in, I’d been retired for just under two years. And to be honest, retirement and I hadn’t quite hit it off yet. I’d been teaching for over thirty years, on a freelance basis, mostly in the field of mechatronics – sometimes at vocational colleges, sometimes in in-company training programmes. Now, in my ‘restless retirement’, that had become significantly less frequent.
Even so, I almost turned it down. Not because of China. Because of me. A long flight, a different climate, four weeks without my own kitchen, and then standing and talking every day – I wasn’t sure whether my back and my head would be up to it. My wife was the deciding factor. She said I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go. She was right, but I’m reluctant to tell her that so bluntly.
I arrived in early November, late in the evening, feeling rather shaken. The next morning, I stood in front of the class for the first time. I’d prepared a lecture just as I’d delivered them a hundred times in Germany: neatly structured, with the formula, derivation and application. After twenty minutes, I looked at their faces and realised I wasn’t getting through to anyone anymore. Not because they were uninterested. But because I was speaking too quickly, using too many subordinate clauses and words that you don’t learn in any German course. ‘Schlupf’, ‘Kennlinie’, ‘Rückführung’ – all completely second nature to me, all gibberish to them.
That was the real learning process of the first week, and it was uncomfortable. For thirty years, I’d believed I could explain things. In Hangzhou, I had to learn that all over again. I started talking less and drawing more. A motor, a control loop, an arrow, a value next to it. Short sentences. The same terms over and over again, so that they would stick. The German teacher, who was present during the lessons, translated whenever there was a sticking point and, in the evenings, told me honestly what had got through and what hadn’t. Without her, I would have got through those four weeks much less successfully.
What surprised me was that my age wasn’t a disadvantage there – quite the opposite, in fact. Back in Germany, I’d most recently been the lecturer who was slowly approaching retirement. There, I was someone who was treated with a natural respect that was almost uncomfortable for me. People took my bag, assigned me the best seat at the table and topped up my drink before my glass was even half empty. It took me a while to accept this without feeling old.
I explored the city bit by bit. In the afternoons after lectures, I’d go for a walk, usually with no particular destination in mind. The large lake in the centre of Hangzhou is calm, misty and rather beautiful in November, and you can walk along the shore for hours without getting bored. On campus, there were spots where people practised tai chi in the mornings, and spots where there was noise from building sites. Both at the same time – I suppose that’s typical.
The evenings were the hardest part. From about eight o’clock onwards, I’d be sitting alone in my room; in Germany it was early afternoon, and I didn’t want to make phone calls every day either. I read a lot and, to be honest, found myself thinking a few times: ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ These moments are part of the experience, and I’m writing them down because nobody had told me about them beforehand.
On the last day, a student gave me a sheet of paper. On it, he’d drawn a powertrain by hand, fully labelled, in German, with two spelling mistakes. The sheet is hanging in my study. It’s the best proof that those four weeks were worthwhile – for him and for me.
If you’re around the same age and are thinking about it: go for it. But don’t assume that your usual routine will work there. Mine didn’t. That’s precisely why it was the most interesting teaching experience I’ve had in a long time.
