did not have anywhere to meet. But I soon borrowed a room from the school on Saturday afternoons. Gordon Siu, a young Chinese man I had met at the Youth Orchestra, became a tower of strength and an invaluable translator. He was also realistic: Unlike some of the Chinese leaders who expected a youth club to be a sort of extended Bible lecture, Gordon helped us hire coaches, came on picnics and went roller skating with us. Soon school ended, and none of the pupils had much to do. The prospect of the boys being caught up in the riots stimulated me to develop the activities further.
Saturday afternoons grew into a complete summer program, with organized picnics, hikes and visits to the forestry plantations. What started that summer became a regular program that happened every July and August for some years after.
The first to come to the Youth Club were the 13- and 14-year-olds; they began to bring friends from outside. Everyone knew from the beginning that I was there because I was a Christian and that events would start or end with a short talk. They did not like the Jesus bit at all; for them, anything to do with Christianity was either full of prohibition or middle class. They had no idea who Jesus really was. Worse, they believed that if you could not read, you could not be a Christian, because to them being a Christian was something to do with the Big Book.
Some young people told me that they could not come to the Youth Club. “We smoke and we drink,” they said. “We go to films and we gamble—and we know Christians don’t do any of those things.” It soon became clear that the blocks to belief were often the result of a culture gap, which local Chinese Christians did nothing to overcome.
All too soon, Chan Wo Sai dropped out of school. At 15, he was one of the oldest boys in Primary fourth form, and he wasat least four years behind. He decided not to finish that year of schooling; a new blue film theatre had just opened in the Walled City, and he got a job selling the tickets.
To the inexperienced teacher from England, dropping out of primary school seemed a terrible thing to do. I spent all summer trying to persuade the hostile boy to go back. Eventually, he humbled himself and went to see his teachers, but they refused to take him back. Their explanations horrified me: One said, “Well, Jackie, we were only too pleased when he left, because we could not control him. He upset not only the teachers but also the whole of the class. Good riddance to him.”
Theirs was a mission school, not a profit-oriented private academy. These were Christian teachers, and I had imagined that when they met once a week for prayer meetings, they prayed for the difficult and troublesome boys like Chan Wo Sai. But the truth was that most of the teachers had barely completed secondary school themselves; they had said they were Christians just to get the job and were incapable of handling anything other than entirely docile classes. For Chan Wo Sai, his departure was effectively the end of his education—he could not go to another school without retaking the Primary Four exam.
The only alternative was to find him a vocational training school that would teach him some skill. However, he proved ineligible for such courses, either because he was too old or because he had not completed primary school and could not speak English. Together we trudged around schools and factories seeking further training or an apprenticeship, and in every case we were turned away. Against Chan Wo Sai the gates were shut, even though he was only 15.
What was to happen to him? He had dropped out of school, and selling tickets at the blue film theatre was as far as he was ever going to go. There was nothing I could do for him except keep this club going. Several of his dropout friends joined the gangs. They discovered that there they had a role. If they proved themselves, they were given respect and responsibility. They were given a rank and treated as
Saturday afternoons grew into a complete summer program, with organized picnics, hikes and visits to the forestry plantations. What started that summer became a regular program that happened every July and August for some years after.
The first to come to the Youth Club were the 13- and 14-year-olds; they began to bring friends from outside. Everyone knew from the beginning that I was there because I was a Christian and that events would start or end with a short talk. They did not like the Jesus bit at all; for them, anything to do with Christianity was either full of prohibition or middle class. They had no idea who Jesus really was. Worse, they believed that if you could not read, you could not be a Christian, because to them being a Christian was something to do with the Big Book.
Some young people told me that they could not come to the Youth Club. “We smoke and we drink,” they said. “We go to films and we gamble—and we know Christians don’t do any of those things.” It soon became clear that the blocks to belief were often the result of a culture gap, which local Chinese Christians did nothing to overcome.
All too soon, Chan Wo Sai dropped out of school. At 15, he was one of the oldest boys in Primary fourth form, and he wasat least four years behind. He decided not to finish that year of schooling; a new blue film theatre had just opened in the Walled City, and he got a job selling the tickets.
To the inexperienced teacher from England, dropping out of primary school seemed a terrible thing to do. I spent all summer trying to persuade the hostile boy to go back. Eventually, he humbled himself and went to see his teachers, but they refused to take him back. Their explanations horrified me: One said, “Well, Jackie, we were only too pleased when he left, because we could not control him. He upset not only the teachers but also the whole of the class. Good riddance to him.”
Theirs was a mission school, not a profit-oriented private academy. These were Christian teachers, and I had imagined that when they met once a week for prayer meetings, they prayed for the difficult and troublesome boys like Chan Wo Sai. But the truth was that most of the teachers had barely completed secondary school themselves; they had said they were Christians just to get the job and were incapable of handling anything other than entirely docile classes. For Chan Wo Sai, his departure was effectively the end of his education—he could not go to another school without retaking the Primary Four exam.
The only alternative was to find him a vocational training school that would teach him some skill. However, he proved ineligible for such courses, either because he was too old or because he had not completed primary school and could not speak English. Together we trudged around schools and factories seeking further training or an apprenticeship, and in every case we were turned away. Against Chan Wo Sai the gates were shut, even though he was only 15.
What was to happen to him? He had dropped out of school, and selling tickets at the blue film theatre was as far as he was ever going to go. There was nothing I could do for him except keep this club going. Several of his dropout friends joined the gangs. They discovered that there they had a role. If they proved themselves, they were given respect and responsibility. They were given a rank and treated as