Elves

December 24th, in case you didn't know, was a work day, a cold one--it least it was for me, as was December 25th. So this work day had its ups and downs. A frightening pile of thesis proposals was mounting on the corner of my desk. Someone was going to have to grade all of those. There was a short conversation with my dean that proved to be exhilarating, productive. More on that later. But, while all this was in the front of my mind, in the back I was wondering just who was coming to dinner. Anyone?

Several students had informed me last week that they were making me a Christmas Eve dinner--at my apartment--but I hadn't heard any more about it. They had been adamant--I was to buy nothing, prepare nothing. Still. Complicating things, a tutor had asked me to see an exhibit featuring her mother's paper-cutting, an exhibit that would be up for exactly five more hours and hung up on a clothesline in front of a building a mile away. It was not a convenient time to go see her mother's papercuts, but I did. I found out her mother is good.

So it was much later than I had hoped when I returned to my apartment, a few miles away, and found a washing machine in the middle of the living room. It was, in fact, the old one, a very small machine that worked just fine. Why was it in the living room? Well, a Chinese worker, under the supervision of the landlady, Mrs. Niu, was trying to cram another one into the old space, and it wasn't going to fit. He was also trying to tell me something with great spirit and gusto, and I had no clue what he was saying. There was water all over the kitchen floor, which meant that there were muddy footprints tracked all over the little apartment with white tiles on the floor. It was freezing--or close enough. Five degrees Celcius. I had planned to bake some Christmas cookies and clean things up before my students came--but I couldn't get within five feet of the sink and the water was turned off anyway.

I was spared having to decide what to do next because two male students banged on my door and  unloaded two big shopping bags on my couch. My cell phone rang and the class monitor welcomed the three of us to come join the rest of the gang in Yong Hui supermarket so I could help them pick out some vegetables. The guys and I half ran there and, thanks to cell phones, finally found the others milling around.

Before long, there were thirty-five of us back in my kitchen--well, thirty-five in my apartment and as many as could fit in the kitchen. I'll let the photos below tell the rest of the story. Let me say this, though, these "only children" function like a big family in ways that vaguely remind me of my own big family. They get stuff done. They work together for the good of the whole. They pitch in, they're fun, and they're utterly amazing.

Before they morphed

. . . into elves

Five degrees Celcius

Before they put up a Christmas tree

Elves decorating

Each elf making his or her own famous hometown dish

Elves under their bow

Elves making lots of paper flowers

Voila!

Elves preparing mushrooms

Elves paper cutting (amazing things put in surprising places)

Hungry elves

Only the beginning of the feast--the wok was hot until 10:00 pm

Elves eating

The last elf left after every dish was washed, every leftover bagged up, every inch of floor mopped. Then, at 10:20, Co and Fasty (older students, different class) banged on the door, with gift in hand and a huge bouquet of flowers. Yes, sure, they would have some tea. They stayed and talked until 11:15, when they had to sca-daddle to get back before their dormitory doors were locked.