The sacred weekend

It’s Saturday, it’s raining, and in just a little bit I’ll be heading to class.  The fact that it’s raining has absolutely nothing else to do with this post other than the fact that at the moment my hair is looking super cute, but after five minutes outside it will surely be in a state of rebellion.

I remember as a kid my dad telling us of his days at Brown and how he had to go to class on Saturdays.  It was one of those “I walked ten miles to school in the snow uphill both ways” stories where my sister and I would sit back in awed wonder of the hard life way back then.  Growing up as a child of the 80’s in America, the weekend was sacred.  It was that gleaming reward of freedom and leisure delightfully looming at the end of every week.  It meant dad was cooking up a big breakfast Saturday morning, PJ’s could remain on for an extended amount of time, and life lost some of its hectic-ness and rigid structure.  If someone were to suggest extending the normal work week, or worse, school week into the weekend there would be some major rioting against the intrusion into “my time.”  I would venture to say, with the exception of some professions, most Americans view the weekend as “my time” that no one has a right to mess with.

The Chinese on the whole do not share this opinion.  In fact, schedules are so unpredictable and changeable here that they don’t really view any time as my time.  Many people still work on weekends.  Middle school and high school students have classes on weekends.  My students still have no idea when this semester will end for them (their foreign teacher classes end before other classes) or when they’ll have final exams.  And they’re not bothered by this fact.  Classes are canceled and rearranged at the last minute.  The announcement that Saturday is Monday and Sunday is Tuesday and Monday is Saturday and Tuesday is Sunday doesn’t ruffle any feathers.  It’s just simply accepted.

I have learned a lot and still have a lot to learn from this attitude.  Frankly, it’s a much more pleasant, and dare I say perhaps even more biblical, way to live.  No, I’m not saying it’s good to work every day of the week.  We were built with the need for rest and sabbath.  It is the attitude towards time that I hope rubs off on me.  An acceptance that even time is not something I own, and an expectation and acceptance of daily interruptions and changes.  Such an attitude leads to people and relationship coming before schedule and task.  It means when students unexpectedly stop by, an afternoon that had been intended for grading can easily be set aside.  As Americans, we often talk about our money, gifts, and talents not being our own.  However, I don’t as frequently hear the message that our time is not our own–perhaps because it is one of the more difficult things for us to release control and ownership of.