I have to admit, I was initially hesitant when my friend told me she was going back to China as an English teacher. The thought of living in a country where the government seems to monitor everything you do, and where there's always a sense that someone is watching you from behind, made me nervous.
As for why people are willing to take on this adventure, I think it starts with a desire to experience something new and different. For many expats, China represents a chance to break free from the routine of daily life in their home country and immerse themselves in a culture that's both fascinating and intimidating at the same time.
The 'LBH' label - for "Learned Bureaucratic Horror" or something similar - was first introduced by a British expat who worked as an English teacher in China. The term stuck, however, because it seemed to capture the frustrations of many foreigners living in this country.
For me, personally speaking, I found that some aspects of teaching in China did bring out my 'LBH' side. For instance, when trying to explain a complex concept like the structure of English grammar rules can be really challenging. It's not just about imparting knowledge; it was also about navigating red tape and bureaucratic hurdles.
One thing that struck me during my time abroad is how much Chinese people value face - social harmony above all else. While this might seem at odds with their sometimes prickly relationship with foreigners, I found that when you understood the concept of "mianzi", or face, things could go a lot smoother for both sides.
But what about those who aren't familiar with these nuances? How do they navigate an unfamiliar environment without getting lost in translation - so to speak. It's not just about language skills; it takes a whole new set of social and cultural skills that can take time to develop.
Here are some key things I learned during my expat experience:
1. Learn the local customs, especially when interacting with Chinese colleagues or students.
2. Be prepared for long lines at government offices - they're inevitable!
3. Respect people's personal space; don't expect too much from your new friends just yet.
Now that you've read this account of my life as an English teacher in China, I'm curious: How do you think expats can balance their desire to immerse themselves in a foreign culture with the need for social support and community back home?
For many, the allure of teaching English here is part of that magnetic pull – an adventure, a chance to connect with a rapidly evolving culture, and an escape from the familiar. But peel back the layers, and beneath the excitement often lies a familiar sting: the term "LBH," whispered in expat circles, online forums, and sometimes even in passing. What exactly does this label signify, and why does it cling so stubbornly? It implies a certain self-awareness, a knowing nod across cultures that acknowledges a shared past – or lack thereof – of perceived unemployability or difficulty securing gainful employment. But like a complex shadow, the truth is a fractal, branching out in countless ways. Some of us genuinely faced hurdles back home, finding that the skills we honed or the paths we chose didn't align perfectly with market demands. Others, perhaps, simply felt the pull of China's unique opportunities, its vibrant tapestry of a society undergoing constant transformation, and found teaching English a satisfying, albeit sometimes unexpected, way to contribute and thrive. It’s not just about being unemployed; it's about the *choice* to be employed in a specific, demanding way here. This view often comes from fellow expats who have experienced significant setbacks or who perhaps romanticize the idea of a Western professional navigating the complexities of the Chinese system. They see the English teaching job, perhaps the relative ease some find in securing it (compared to the perceived difficulties back home), and they project. It’s a human tendency, really, to find patterns, sometimes comfort, sometimes annoyance, in how others adapt. There’s also the view from within the expat bubble itself. Some expats, perhaps those who arrived here with more prestigious titles or faced fewer obstacles, might look down upon what they see as a "fallback" option. This can create a strange internal hierarchy, where the person teaching English is somehow perceived as having missed the boat, or perhaps as being overly comfortable with their situation. Yet, this "comfort" often comes with its own pressures – long hours, high expectations from students and parents, constant cultural adaptation, and the sheer volume of work required to make a dent in the vast English learning market. It's not necessarily a reflection on the individual. The "LBH" label, however, often bypasses this understanding, filtering instead through the prism of Western professional expectations and expat social circles. It becomes a badge of perceived failure, rather than a functional necessity or a different kind of success story. While the narrative of being an "unemployable" Westerner might seem like a niche explanation, the reality is that China needs *millions* of English teachers – far more than just those who couldn't get hired elsewhere. This massive need creates a unique ecosystem, driving the structure of the industry and making the "LBH" stereotype, while persistent among certain expat groups, largely irrelevant to the millions of students and parents who simply see a foreign teacher as a valuable resource. It’s a numbers game, really, pushing the label into a secondary position. Partly because it simplifies the complex reality of international career paths and cultural adaptation. And partly because it exists within a closed community – expats talking to expats, reinforcing the notion that those working in this field are the "default" option. Some might be genuinely facing challenges back home and find unexpected fulfillment here. Others might simply be drawn to the stability, the intellectual stimulation of teaching, or the sheer joy of sharing a language and culture. For some, it's a way to support themselves while living authentically in a country that offers a different pace and perspective. The "LB" part is undeniable – they *are* expatriates. But the "H" part? That’s the home they left behind, not the one they chose or the one they're building here.
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