In Which I Sing for My Supper

I was happily chasing noodles around my bowl of soup when Ellen, one of the fourth grade teachers, said, "Rachel! Sing an English song for us!"

Um?

I glanced up and eight women were looking at me expectantly. Yes, I'd heard that right, the lone English in a lovely, blurry fog of Chinese.

It was the end of the evening. The other women, also teachers at the school, and I were comfortably ensconced in a private room at the restaurant and had just finished seven courses of spicy hot pot. The room was steamy and everybody was rosy-cheeked, feeling sated and sassy.

And then the demand to sing. I'd not been aware that this is a Chinese custom: After a delicious meal with good friends, it's not uncommon to sing a few songs. This is a wonderful tradition, in my opinion. It's especially wonderful if I'm listening. Oh, I like to sing -- harmony, and with musical accompaniment. But an a capella solo at the hot pot restaurant...

"Sing!" said Rose, the teacher seated to my right, beaming and gently nudging me in the side.

I tripped through a frantic mental scramble: Aaah! They want me to sing! OK, OK, what songs do I know all the words to? Welcome to the Jungle. Because that would be appropriate. Think! I'm a Little Teapot -- what, with the actions, too? Welcome to the Jungle. Stop it! I am not singing Guns 'n Roses!

Finally, like a shaft of sunlight through my troubled mind, words of comfort. I cleared my throat. "I can see clearly now the rain is gone," I sang. "I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright, bright, bright sunshiny day."

The other women -- these kind, generous, wonderful women -- smiled and clapped along as I fluttered through Johnny Nash's I Can See Clearly Now. Trilling a final note, I slumped back in my chair, flushed and happy. Then there were other songs, beautiful Chinese songs, and Ellen even danced a little. And when the night was done, we exited the restaurant, arms linked.

Nice story, right? It doesn't end there, though. Really, it's just a preface to explain how, the following evening, I stood clutching a microphone in front of a crowded banquet room, trying to remember Richard Marx lyrics.

All the female teachers in the school were there, being honored for International Women's Day. There were many toasts, many speeches, none of which I understood. But the overall feeling was celebratory and convivial.

And then. "Rachel! Sing an English song!" This time it was the third-grade student teacher, a delightful girl who, just then, I could have murdered with my chopsticks. "Do you know the Beijing Olympics song?"

"Oh, gosh. Wow. No. Sorry."

"Do you know the Titanic song?" she asked

"Only the 'near, far, wherever you are' part," I apologized.

She was very disappointed, so now I felt bad. Again with the mental scramble: OK. OK. Think! What songs do I know? Rocky Top. Well, that's just great, especially the part about all the folks getting their corn from a jar. Whistle While You Work. What the heck? Where did that even come from? I don't know all the words! Rocky Top. Aaah! Rachel! Enough with Rocky Top!

Just then, she brightened and asked, "Do you know Right Here Waiting?"

"Yes! Yes! I do know that one!"

I mean, I came of age in the late '80s, early '90s. Of course I know Richard Marx ballads. She nodded and scampered away, so I thought maybe I was off the hook. Minutes later she was back, tugging at my arm. I followed her to the front of the room, where she shoved a microphone in my hands. Fortunately, she had one, too, and pledged to sing with me.

Well, clearly this was awful, and I'd just eaten horse sausage -- I knew from awful. Student teacher was quivering with anticipation beside me. My brain wouldn't stop shouting "Rocky Top! Rocky Top!" I spent several desperate seconds hoping for an immediate embolism, or even death. Death would be OK, too. People were staring at me. My heart threatened to exit my chest. I couldn't breathe. I was sweating.

And then.

And then, aw, what the hell: "Oceans apart, day after day, and I slowly go insane..."