entries about students. And you know what? This one is really positive!
Kit is undoubtedly one of my favorite students here. (Teachers aren't supposed to have favorites, but during our summer English program I didn't teach in an "official" capacity, so I'm going to exempt myself from that sacred law. Moreover, I am definitely no longer an English teacher here to the students, so I guess Kit is really more of a friend, or "former student.") Danny likes to call him "Kit Cat." I think Danny just likes the pun on "Kit Kat" (the Nestlé wafer coated in chocolate). Danny says it's because Kit really does resemble a domestic feline. Your opinion?
[Please have some compassion and at least feign amusement with my creation. I spent somewhere between 1-2 hours working on that photo in Microsoft Paint—by no means the easiest photo alteration program, but it came free with my Dell. I am seriously looking into the student version of Adobe Photoshop. Once I get my hands on it, I'm sure I will be churning out real works of art. Anyway, I found it unduly difficult to make the ears look symmetrical, especially because the shape of Kit's hair is not perfectly symmetrical, so it was hard to position the ears.]
Kit, as one can see from the photo—or not, depending on whether one finds feline features attractive—is actually a very comely young man. But, as is so often the case with individuals of excellent disposition, his looks are outpaced by his other qualities. The simplest way for me to describe Kit (for those who have read A Separate Peace) is to say he is much like Phineas, except Chinese, and not at all as antagonistic toward school officials, or toward authority more generally.
For the benefit of those who need to brush up on their Knowles, Kit is a natural athlete who moves with wonderful speed and an almost ineffable grace, both of which are displayed to their fullest when he engages in his sport of choice, soccer (or "football" as it is known here). But, unlike the skills of so many who excel in the realm of sport, his mastery on the field is neither eclipsed by an invidious arrogance nor tainted by a supercilious treatment of less talented teammates and opponents. Much like his fictitious counterpart, Kit enjoys sport simply for sport's sake: he values athletic excellence while disdaining competition. After having observed Kit in action—and seeing him take as much pleasure in a well executed goal from his opponents as from his own team—I've concluded that, to him, playing soccer is just that: playing. First and foremost, it should be fun, entertaining, recreational. Other players' goal of winning distracts from the simple pleasures of play, and therefore adulterates the pure essence of sport.*
That good players should enjoy competition seems natural: they can dominate in an activity—be it soccer, chess, dominoes, or bake offs—winning not only titles and distinctions, but money, and the respect and adoration of fans and colleagues. What is less natural (and so, perhaps more valuable simply by virtue of its scarcity) is the good player who does not seek to be a good competitor. He does not seek to be better than his peers, but desires for every player to be excellent. His satisfaction is derived not from victory, but from participation. He, therefore, achieves his goal each time he plays, whereas those of the competing ideology find success only when they 'win.'
It may seem odd that one who has never really enjoyed team or competitive sport should profile another who relishes it. Yet I think the reason I never really enjoyed most sports is the element of winning and losing (losing in particular) always seemed unsavory to me. When I am playing against friends, even when my own team "wins," my satisfaction is diminished by the knowledge that my friends are "losers"—and my actions directly contributed to the conferring of that undesirable designation upon them. So then, my admiration of one who eschews winning and losing alike, one who plays just to play, flows naturally from my aversion to sports as they are traditionally conceived and played in America.
As is often the case, I think I have (learned and subsequently) conveyed more about myself in preparing this piece than I have about the ostensible subject of this profile. But who's going to fault me for that?
And just because it's fun to see what one's friends would look like as different zoo animals (and because I really do have that much time on my hands here in China):
*Since this piece is presented entirely from my own perspective and is focused on a friend so agile, I was led to wonder if I am the Gene to Kit's Phineas. Am I jealous of his natural, easy athleticism at the same time that I admire it, and him for possessing it? Gene's answer is quite salient, but my own much less so. I won't dive into that question right now, but I wanted to let the reader know that this aspect of my analogy had not escaped me.
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