I’m taking a class on the Tiananmen Massacre with Rowena He, a participant in herself. Her personality is the most bright, bubbly, cheerful teacher I’ve ever encountered in academia. She is also extremely personal with her stories, and has an amazing force and passion that’s very enrapturing.
The first assignment we had was to watch Tank Man, a PBS documentary on the Tiananmen Massacre. The first half, I watched with a sort of composed interest — until the part where a mother pleaded with a soldier, sobbing hysterically, regarding her son. I was working in the dhall, and I must have had the most intense look on my face because I distinctly remember half-hearing my roommate shushing her boyfriend to leave her alone, can’t you see she’s working? When really, I was watching this documentary. Not work at all. Though the second part was on modern China and its economic trends, and was as boring as listening to a truck droll.