Classroom Moments: Learning, Trust, and Human Connection

This section gathers small moments, quiet realizations, and stories from my classroom. Sometimes teaching feels less like giving knowledge and more like sharing life. Through these reflections, I hope to capture not only how my students learn, but also how I learn from them. These are moments shaped by curiosity, empathy, and the small human connections that make language come alive across cultures.

1. When “bruh” meets “天呐”

One of my students quietly went, “bruh...” after hearing that there will be a quiz next week. I couldn’t help laughing and said, “In Chinese, we’d probably say ‘天呐.’ It’s basically the same vibe!” The class cracked up.  Little moments like this remind me that teaching a language is really about building bridges between feelings, not just words.

天呐（tiān na）

A common Chinese exclamation used when you feel surprised, shocked, or speechless, kind of like saying “Oh my god,” “Wow,” or in this case, “bruh.” It doesn’t literally mean “heaven,” even though “天” means “sky” or “heaven.” It’s more about expressing emotion than meaning words literally.

2. When “Ohio” meets “来了”

Before starting the class, I had a wonderful conversation with the students that really set the tone. We talked about how different generations express themselves. College boys often greet each other with their own special routine: they start with a firm handshake, and finish with a quick snap or a playful shoulder tap and say, “What’s up, bro?” Older adults also shake hands, but theirs usually feels more formal and contained. 

Meanwhile, college girls throw out phrases like “slay,” or “you ate,” using words that carry encouragement and humor. Gen Alpha often uses slang terms like “Ohio,” “rizz,” and “sus,” which often reference popular internet memes. One student taught me their word “twin," which they use for close friendship. It was such an interesting moment, seeing how language and gestures evolve across time and culture.

The whole class was so engaged, and there was this light, relaxing atmosphere. It reminded me of how in China, older generations might greet each other by saying “吃了吗?” (have you eaten?) or “散步啊?” (going for a walk?), while younger people might just say “嗨”（hi）or “来了啊”（you came). It’s beautiful how these small expressions can connect us. That moment really made me feel how much we all enjoyed learning from each other, even before the class officially started.

3. When students’ questions meet politics

Many language teachers have probably experienced awkward or unexpected moments in classes. I have too. How we respond in those moments really matters.

Once I was suddenly asked by one student, “台湾是中国的吗？” which means “Is Taiwan part of China?” The grammar is correct, and the student used what we learned perfectly. No kidding, for a second, I froze. The whole class laughed. I knew the student wasn't trying to be political, just curious. But still, it was one of those delicate moments.

I took a deep breath. I said gently in Chinese, “这个不太好，我们说别的,” meaning "This is not a good topic, let’s talk about something else.” Since it was a beginning-level class, I couldn’t say much more in Chinese anyway, so I quickly changed the topic. 

After class, I talked to them in English (we only use Chinese in class). I told them, “I really love that you ask questions in class, and I appreciate your curiosity. It’s just that we try not to discuss politics here, because it’s sensitive and might make some people uncomfortable. Different people, different perspectives. If you are interested, you can read more and explore why people think differently.” The student smiled and said, “这很有意思。” meaning “That’s really interesting.”

It’s never easy to balance students’ curiosity with avoiding sensitive topics. What I learned is to stay calm and focus on the learning moment itself. As teachers, we can always look for better ways to handle such situations with patience, reflection, and care.

4. When trust becomes a chorus

There is a small moment in my classroom that happens at the end of every class. As soon as I say “下课了” (The class is dismissed), all students look up, pause for half a second, and then almost magically say in perfect unison: “谢谢王老师！王老师再见！” (Thank you, Teacher Wang. Goodbye.) 

Every. Single. Time.

It is such a synchronized, cheerful chorus that I always have to stop myself from laughing. Not because it is funny in a silly way, but because it feels so unexpectedly warm. Like a little ritual we never planned but somehow created together. From a pedagogical perspective, moments like this matter deeply. They signal emotional safety, trust, and the sense of belonging that makes language learning possible. When a whole class speaks to you together—not out of obligation, but out of comfort—you will know the relationship has become part of the learning itself.

And maybe that’s my favorite part of teaching: the human chemistry that forms quietly, spontaneously, and sometimes even a little adorably. These are the moments that stay with me.