What do you see outside your window?

Front view: Construction!

I just read that for some states, people have been quarantined for over 50 days. At the 50 day mark in China, I asked my students to look out their window and write a poem describing what they see. It’s funny how the most basic and familiar view changes when you are asked to look at it with new eyes for a class assignment.

Familiar views rarely register on our mind's eye. All that we can see is frustration with the neighbors’ trees, or the ugly low wall over there, or the lack of curtains on that window.

New eyes, however, can see the garden on the other side of the wall, or the new bird’s nest in the tree, or a family argument in the apartment, next door.

Back view: Jungle!

Currently, outside our apartment window, we have two starkly different scenes. At the front of the apartment, you can see construction. My familiar eyes see and hear the never-ending dirt tracked in the apartment, the loud banging that goes on – weekday or weekend. (In China, there doesn’t seem to clearly delineate weekends and holidays the way we do in the US. It’s currently May Day – the workers’ Labor Day -- and still there are workers outside, banging away.)

But, if you look at the same scene with new eyes, I think you’ll find it interesting what construction looks like over here. Poles serve as scaffolding. Bare corrugated metal are the workers’ support. A simple netting supposedly protects workers from falls. Every time I walk outside, I instinctively duck – afraid that something from above might come crashing down on my head!

A picture of the new/refurbished apartments!

The back window of our apartment provides a stark contrast to the bustling construction sight. We’re the last row of apartments in the “First Faculty Village” at Jiaotong. This means we back up to a green, leafy wall. Stray cats and a few dogs can be heard singing to each other as they stalk various critters in the early morning. One cat jumped up to our barred windows on the second floor, and then flew like an acrobat down to the wall below, when he discovered us planning classes.

On the other side of the wall is a high school. To our left is a kindergarten that, last fall, started every morning with a saccharine song. As Grace describes, in her poem below, kindergarten has been discontinued for the rest of the year. I kind of miss that song that made my teeth ache due to its “sweetness.”

Sometimes you can see a game of badminton. Other times you see a group of older folks playing cards or mahjong.

Go ahead. Look outside your window and see what you see.

* * *

To inspire you, here are some poems by my students. It never fails to amaze me at how well they write in English. I can’t imagine writing this entry in Chinese….

Look out my window

Press the alarm to get up with sleepy eyes,

open the faint yellow curtains to both sides:

my little window-world appears.

Verdant leaves near my window

swaying wildly in nature’s breath.

On the branch the birds cheerful sing.

Watching the small square under the tree,

an old man there practices shadowboxing.

The flower shop sits across from the small square.

Some flowers are enjoying their sunbath

as they smell the bread from the bakery.

Office workers buy bread in a hurry;

crumbs fall to the ground while running.

The birds pick them up and fly back to the tree.

The leaves sway as the bird watches

the old man exercising. After watching

this circular movie, my day begins.

--Zoe

From my window

Against my window stands

a stout wall of brick.

Scarcely the sun shines in-between.

But when it does, it warms the wall

to radiance: fawn, brown, claret, scarlet.

The bricks are squeezed like a mosaic.

They looked like Tetras or a gate

in a Nintendo video game

that shrinks on both sides

in its digital world: the 9 3/4 station

in the story of Harry Potter

Still not knowing the answer

I keep watching in wonder:

Wonder whether there is

another world behind the dullness of this.

--Doutzen

From my Window

Sitting in my bay window, I enjoyed watching children

having fun on the playground down the road.

Ding—the bell across the way rang

at 7:30, on a December morning.

Children in the kindergarten rushed into their classroom.

They sang, they read, they played with each other in classrooms.

Ding—

The bell rang again,

It was a lovely break time.

Children in colors rushed back to the playground.

Laughing—friends shared snacks, games and secrets;

Crying—“enemies” fought with each other, someone lost, someone got hurt;

Standing still— I thought about life and future— they worried about sleep and food.

It was a warm winter day.

No cold wind, no snow, no ice covering the ground.

Dazzling sunshine, a gleaming swing, noisy air—vibrant.

That changed when an uninvited guest knocked at the door

Of beauty and hope, in the early spring.

His name is virus.

The kindergarten shut the door, sent children home.

And they never came back.

The vibrant colors disappeared,

The laughing is gone.

Stillness and horror overwhelmed the place,

leaving no hope behind—

I believe one day they will return and

hope will hollow the virus.

--Grace (E71)

From My Window

Winter has left, they say.

Needle-like raindrops form curtains in the air;

Lightening plays the introduction and the thunder responds.

I see in the garden there are no buds or sprouts.

The river in front is rising, becoming grumpy,

making her way among crowded tall buildings.

Yet, winter has left, they say.

Spring is coming, they say.

A man with his granddaughter in the distance,

with their masks tightly on, hand-in-hand, jogging.

I wonder whether the girl is having fun.

The street lamps are on, dim, trembling and flashing.

Did that window on the opposite just darken?

Yet, spring is coming, they say.

Cherry blossoms look beautiful from an online screen,

yet no flowers blooming in my sight.

What was a picture frame is now just a window.

“Winter has left; spring is on the way,”

they firmly say. “I miss you; I will come to meet you in spring.”

I believe there will be flowers when it stops raining.

--Scarlett (E72)

From My Window

Early in the morning, when I was looking out from the window,

Stretching and yawning,

A tiny little fruit on the peach tree attracted my eyes.

It was greenish and intimidated, hiding among the tree leaves.

It reminding me of that late summer afternoon,

when my little sister and I were loitering in the backyard,

And then spotted several peaches on the tree,

Green but big enough to arouse our appetite.

We picked a lot, but found right away

that those cute greenish fruits were tasty only to the eyes.

Around the peach tree there is a lawn stretching upward, along the slope,

“The grass was imported from Germany.

It is short and neat, surely the grass of choice for a backyard…”

the dealer said to my father when he bought the turf

to renovate our “grassy and messy backyard.”

My mother called it that —a firm and tough perfectionist.

Actually we loved the original one, where there were

exuberant plants of all kinds, whose name I never knew,

each accommodating friends whose impromptu concerts

in summer evenings would wipe out the heat

and render us cool and comfortable.

We love this one too, though.

The lawn, I mean.

Its layout is nice and neat.

Once in a while, Father would bring home some new friends

that he met on the way home and found suitable for our backyard family.

Now there is a Camellia tree, whose blossoms are like those of roses,

though not with the same fragrance.

And there are some succulents as well,

Slumbering in the softy ground like newly born babies,

who have sweet dreams in the arms of Mother Earth.

And if you listen carefully, they will tell you numerous stories

About those ingenious musicians who dwelled at this place once upon a time…

--Jessie

From my window

I live on the 25^th floor, which is almost 50 meters high.

I have the view of a bird and can see miles and miles away. It used to be a small pine grove outside my window. But now it has been replaced by skyscrapers. The peaceful and quiet night has been turned into the whistle a cars.

Watching fireworks through my window is the most interesting thing. It is very beautiful and quite different from looking at them from the ground. I can look at them from the side, or overlook them. They are much prettier from above. I can see colorful flowers blossomed at night in an invisible grassland. They light the night up.

However, the only problem with my window is that it is so close to my neighbors’ that it is hard to have any privacy when doing something loud. For me, it is playing music. But for my neighbors, it is the fights between the parents and their child. She is a beautiful girl. I met the girl once, which is unusual in today’s modern society when neighbors do not have conversations. She was as beautiful as the fireworks that I saw outside my window. Both she and the fireworks are beautiful, fiery, invasive, and showed no fear. Their anger disappears after a few seconds.

On the evening of the New Year, I enjoyed the free and peaceful time in my room after parties. Suddenly, the boom of fireworks surprised me. Then came the sound of broken glass from my neighbors' window, next door.

The first flower was red. It exploded in the air without any fear or hesitation.

“Don't enter my room without my permission!”

“How dare you thunder out your orders at me? I am your father!”

And then followed the beautiful fireworks and screams.

To be honest, I was a little mad at my neighbors, especially the girl who often acted impolitely to her parents. But all of a sudden, I found her as gorgeous as fireworks. Not everyone dares to fight with their parents, at least I dare not. She had enough courage and strength to fight against the authority when she was in an unfavorable condition. I do not support naughty kids but I really like those who have the courage to express themselves. I admire the rebellious spirits who can show their energy, courage potential, creativity and power.

Since then, I imagine beautiful fireworks blooming outside the window whenever the girl roars.

-Beryl

So, go ahead. Look out the window. What do you see? An unripe peach? Fireworks? A feisty and rebellious girl standing up to her parents? It’s interesting how sometimes it takes a pandemic to turn a window into a picture frame, a brick wall into a game of tetras. The ordinary and familiar are all actually full of stories and poetry.