Snakes for Snacks? I was invited to teach English at a private school in Wuhan, China. Before leaving the United States, I purchased a few phrase books and dictionaries and diligently studied them from cover to cover (including listening to the cassette tape every day). I wasn't sure how often I would use "Does this subway stop at the monastery?" or "The empress used to eat these?" but I wanted to be as prepared as I could for any type of language encounter. Upon my arrival in Wuhan, the principal of the school, who spoke no English, greeted me. She had also brought along one of her teachers. I was soon to find out that this teacher spoke about as much English as I spoke Chinese. The teacher's first question to me was, "Are you hungry? Would you like some Chinese snakes?" I must have looked confused. "Snakes, snakes, you see..." and she proceeded to pretend to stuff food in her mouth. Now panic set in! Yes, I was hungry, but NO, I didn't want any snakes! The teacher noticed my phrase book and motioned that she would like to look at it. Turning to the Chinese to English section, she quickly scanned the pages. "Ah, here it is," she remarked, showing me the page. Yep, there it was right in front of my face, S-N-A-C-K-S! I could not help but laugh out loud. The principal and the teacher both had a confused look. It was now my turn to explain. Taking the other phrase book I had, I found the English word for snake and sounded out the Chinese version (shŽ). Then I demonstrated a wiggling snake with my hands and pretended to eat it. So with my first Chinese lesson and my first chance to teach English, we were off for our Chinese snack. -- David Bolzman is now back in Houston, Texas. Art by one of David's students in Wuhan, China.

Tea-Eggs What brings us together is what we break. My mother cracks eggshells So the flavor can be soaked up. At the dining room table The smell of soy sauce and tea bags, A Chinese aroma. Red lanterns for the New Year. Twelve white eggs bobbing in a pungent brown soup. Raindrop feet of my little sisters make a storm Headed for the great East. Their wide brown eyes Reflect the dark soup. Watching the eggs boil, the lid blow smoke. All of us sit by the table staring, Eyes concentrated on the metal pot. Then as random as the sun out at night Someone laughs and releases me from my hunger spell. And we howl and jabber: About how I believed I was a real tiger at 7, The funny hair-do my mom gave my sister. In '94 or maybe '95 The Chi-Pao my baby sister wore for her Chinese school dance. I have almost forgotten my mission in the kitchen Perhaps invisible nose plugs Had kept me from smelling those eggs being ladled out. I rip open the shell To the white core streaked with brown, A spider's web woven all across the egg. The veins of culture absorbed. But I chew and swallow too fast to notice. -- Ida Shiang, 11th grade, Congers, New York.