The Inconspicuous Red Box

Connecting CCT East to the North Waimai Box is a winding path of stone, marble strips, and uneven gray tiles. Offshooting from the edges lay the Undergraduate Residence Halls, neatly spaced like the two ends of a zipper. Dozens of trees line the walkway, along with vivid shrubbery and time-powered lamp-posts that flicker off when it gets late. While the campus says “goodnight” and the once lit rooms gradually fade dim, there remains a building still bright. Its slits of light shine through the cold, bitter air. This building: an inconspicuous red box between the culvert of Residence Halls “B” and “E”.

Those close to me know that I am a proud resident of Residence Hall B. Those closer to me may have swung by my room before or know where to find it (which isn’t hard; my name is on the door). But those closest to me know that I’m rarely ever actually in Residence Hall B. Instead, when I’m not out-and-about, running to the IB, or coming from a club, I can be found slouching in a chair in that very same inconspicuous red box between “B” and “E”, the one whose light remains lit.

This building is the B Classroom, colloquially known as the “Blassroom”, and its existence is astounding. The doors never lock. The air conditioning still runs. It remains filled with the standards of any other classroom: a working projector, MaxHub screens, white boards, and a microphone. Before my presence, this room never saw activity, meaning that it was perhaps the only public building with guaranteed peace, quiet, and solitude. Even more astounding: despite remaining a “dormant” room, it’s still a regular stop for the DKU cleaning staff. Of course, its deserted nature ended the second I stepped in, for when I entered, I never left again.

Yes, I practically live in the Blassroom. With the release of this Lilypad piece, the rest of DKU now knows where to find me. Beforehand, this knowledge was exclusively reserved for my closest companions . . . Oh . . . and some cleaning staff, who often enter the room in the midst of my night studying. They too knew where I lived.

Cleanliness is not Language Dependent

The cleaning lady and I have developed an intriguing relationship of sorts. She enters on schedule, sweeping the floor and lifting my belongings (including my violin and my phone) to reach the tight corners and covered surfaces. Interestingly, the cleaner not only blurs the boundaries of property ownership, but also actively tries to talk with me. We laugh, we speak, and we joke, even though she doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Chinese. Here is an example of a recent interaction:

INT. BLASSROOM —- WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 17. 11:53 PM

PALE LIGHT. A CLEANING LADY enters the room, TRASH BAG in hand. She has on a uniform and a staunch smile. Across from her is KRIS SUN, aged 18, startled by the sudden arrival.

Cleaning LADY

(Blurred Chinese Words)

The Cleaning LADY has a drink in hand, half empty with stains on the side. Kris struggles with his words.

Kris SUN

对不起，这不是我的。

Cleaning LADY

(Blurred Chinese Words)

The Cleaning LADY points at the trash bag.

Kris SUN

Uh . . . 不要不要。

The Cleaning LADY grabs the drink and tosses it casually into the bag.

Cleaning LADY

(Blurred Chinese Words)

Kris SUN

Ah haha.

Kris makes a few more sounds of agreement. The Cleaning LADY begins to laugh. Feeling comfortable, Kris begins to laugh too.

What a wholesome interaction! Point is, while our languages differ, the cleaning lady and I are still able to hold similar values. We both value cleanliness and we both value time. As such, we help each other clean the Blassroom so we can both go to bed a little earlier. Cleanliness is not language dependent.

Communication is not Language Dependent

For that matter, I would argue that communication is not truly language dependent either. Yet, as residents of an international university, we are often quick to reference the limits of the existing language barrier. In truth, communication is just as limited by our efforts to talk as it is our capability to speak. The latter is a simple fix; Chinese-domestic students are required to take EAP classes and two years of Mandarin for International students. The capability of speaking is no longer an excuse, as students have a wide depth of resources available for their language needs (think WLS, tutoring, and basically all of Conference Center). The former, however, is far more difficult. Speaking with others in a foreign language requires effort.

I’ve only encountered these cleaning predicaments by not studying in my dorm in the first place, meaning that it takes deliberate action for cross-cultural interaction. I may not understand the cleaning ladies, but I often try to. Surely, they’re doing the same for me. Why don’t we see this at DKU then?

Too often, students find it easy to ignore the other half of the student body. In essence, what good is language learning if we do not apply it? Chinese-domestic students are encouraged to approach International students in English, meeting their capacities half-way. Failure to do this is inherently a lack of effort on the part of the Chinese-domestic population. Yet, for International students, it makes no sense to approach a Chinese native speaker with English and expect them to be comfortable reciprocating. After all, we are in China! Hence, the International student’s effort in language learning is also crucial.

Above all, communication isn’t a reflection of a language, but a reflection of intention. Do not fear interaction due to a lack of capability in spoken word. Instead, look at their face, their eyes. Listen to the ambience of the room. Watch their actions. That is a form of communication too, and a powerful one at that! I fear that far too many individuals would see my interactions with the Blassroom cleaners and think of it as a failed conversation, simply because Blurred Chinese Words is all I could hear. It is the opposite. We both got our intentions across, mutually acknowledging the other. I didn’t laugh because something was funny. I laughed because the cleaner felt safe enough to laugh, and so I did too. A safe environment comes from the comfortability in the translation of thought, even if that translation is not through proper grammar and sophisticated word choice. 

An Invite

I bring up the Blassroom because its space is the combination of work and play. More importantly, it’s a home. As someone who would like to communicate with more fellow students, Chinese-domestic and International, I would personally like to invite you, the reader, to join me in the Blassroom. Come by and have a chat, regardless if it’s in English or Chinese or Spanish or . . . really anything! I’d be happy to talk, so long as you too are willing to create a safe environment, and I’d love to learn. We can discuss philosophy, or tell jokes, or dump our feelings. If you don’t feel comfortable talking, come anyway. We can write our thoughts. Or point at things. Or prance around the room like fools. The point is that interaction may not guarantee advancement, but a lack of interaction guarantees stagnancy. Push for interactions, ignorant of language and ignorant of fear.

The Blassroom is located outside of Residence Hall B and can be approached on both ends. If coming from the winding path, cut through the mud at the left of the glass walls. I may like my solitude, but I appreciate connection even more.