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Classes began in early September. Daily, I would descend from my lofty abode on the eighth floor to attend classes on the second. The second floor hosted a large common area with plants, a couple of ping pong tables, a piano, and a series of comfortable leather chairs. On one side of the common area were the offices of the teachers. Further down, you could find the department office. That was where I had made my vain attempts to get into Kham dialact class. Across from the offices were the classrooms. I had two classes. The earlier class at 9 am was for speaking. After a half hour break, the second class at 11 was for writing. Afternoons were left open for study.

The speaking class was taught by a pretty young woman named April. Tall, slender, with long straight hair and bangs, she dressed primly in skirts and heels. Her office featured several teddy bears and photographic souvenirs of time spent in the United States. The later class was taught by a young man named Alex. Alex had a “Toby Maguire in Spiderman” vibe and was bouncing off the walls with an impatient energy. Like April, Alex had spent time in the U.S. and would chat with us about his experiences there.

The rest of the teachers and staff were similarly young, fresh-faced, and cheerful. Many of the female teachers sported skirts and heels like April and you could hear the purposeful clacking of their heels echo along the tile floors before and after classes. By contrast, the men dressed more casually in pants and short sleeve shirts. The exception to this was the department head. Unlike the teachers who were all under 45, the department head was an older man in his 50’s. He dressed in dark, dour suits and gave off the air of an older era. He smoked copiously while the teachers rarely smoked at all.