Once again, I was very concerned with the way things look. On yet another level, I was very concerned with my own motivations. What did various Chinese people--including my
students--think when they saw me crossing the street with my two biggest trouble-making students from my uncontrollable class? We were heading for where one of them lived, apparently the all-male dorm located outside the school. The extra level of intensity came from the confusion over everything my students said, or rather my difficulty understanding what they said. First thought we were going to go back to one's apartment and the other one was going to cook for us. I didn't know how to tactfully talk my way out of that, or how I would absolutely avoid being alone with either of them (or how I could avoid otherwise looking like a molester or just a really unethical teacher.)
I think my students were also confused about what to do, probably from the dynamic of not being able to refuse a teacher, but also having to follow the other rules of propriety I was breaking. But I was doing the right thing, as far as I know. I had a burden to change the way I think about my students, and to care about their well-being and their stories. 
So we ended up eating in the cafeteria of the all-male dorms. The most interesting part was trying to explain to them what I do before I eat. The conversation didn't get very far or very deep because I realized in the midst of it that I am inept at conversation even with my team mates. The goals in the back of my head included showing that I care about them and wanting to know why they are the way they are—so I asked some possibly over-invasive questions about their families. Then I asked about how they became friends. One of them apparently has very bad health, which has left him very thin
. Early in the school year he had to call the other, who is the class monitor, to ask for leave once when he was sick. Not only did he give him leave, but he also sent him a message telling him to take better care of himself. That was the start of their unbelievable closeness—so close that during a harsh winter they shared a pair of gloves and one lent the other a coat, and their dream is to start a business together. It reminded me of at least two things about Chinese relationships: 1) Men are really close and express their love for each other in ways like sharing clothes or hugging and being so close that they are practically spooning in public, which in my country would be labeled 
something like “flaming.” (And these boys are not, in spite of the fact that one of them wears a dangly rhinestone earing and a girl's coat and has kissed another boy in class—it was a joke at my expense—or the fact the other one carries a pink purse in which he keeps his diary. In China the clothes don't make the man.)
2) Scolding and criticism is a love language, a really meaningful one. It's one of the hardest things for me to keep in mind that I shouldn't be so unsulted when my students say, "You should take care yourself, teacher," whenever a student sees my very old but still visible burns from cooking, or , "be careful! Take care yourself!" when I bash
my head on the low hanging TV monitor in my classroom. My thought tends to be that the intense pain and the unsightly scars made it pretty clear that making contact with that object was a bad idea and I certainly intend to make efforts to avoid it in the future. Stating something so obvious just makes me feel like someone's calling me an idiot. But their view seems to be that scolding each other (makes me feel like a slow child) they seem to be showing that they care.
My point was that I wanted to be a good shepherd, seeking out the ones that would be easy to let slip through the cracks because they are so bad. I hope I can send that message with all of my students, though these two seem extra special
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