And let's be honest, the reputation isn't great. Walking around a Chinese city, you're the designated foreigner, often the odd one out in conversation circles precisely because you're teaching English. The perception, fueled by internet forums and maybe a few too many beers at the expat bar, is that these English teachers are the ones who couldn't find their place in the professional landscape back in the West. So, they're seen as failures, or at least, people who packed their bags and gave up on climbing the corporate ladder. Or maybe just people with a yen for fried noodles and a slower commute than they were used to.
But hold your horses! Before we all jump to conclusions, let's unpack this a bit. The term 'LBH' is pretty subjective, isn't it? It's not just about unemployment; it's about the *reason* for unemployment. Was it a career pivot, a gap before grad school, a disillusionment with a certain path, or genuine inability to find work? And crucially, what does 'loser' even mean in this context? Does it imply someone who's perpetually job-hunting? Someone who's culturally out of touch? Someone who's just... stuck?
The core idea seems to be that expats in China teaching English are *not* the high achievers, the powerful CEOs, the respected academics, or the skilled artisans they could have been. They're... well, they're English teachers. Which, let's face it, is a specific kind of job, often involving long hours, constant lesson planning, and the occasional awkward silence during a cultural immersion activity. But is it inherently a 'loser' job? Or is the label just a projection onto a foreign context?
Perhaps the perception stems from a misunderstanding of the *requirements* for this job. Teaching English in China isn't about being the most brilliant person in the room; it's about having a TEFL certification, being reasonably proficient in Chinese for daily life, and maybe, most importantly, being okay with the unique challenges of teaching generations of students who learned English from scratch decades ago. The skills needed – patience, adaptability, cross-cultural communication – are fundamentally different from, say, software engineering or finance. A person who excels at building complex spreadsheets might find themselves completely out of their depth explaining the subjunctive mood. Is that really 'loser' or just 'different'?
Then there's the sheer *contrast*. Imagine being a young professional in your early thirties back in Europe or North America, perhaps feeling a bit constrained by the routine of, say, a corporate finance job. Suddenly, you're in Shanghai on a Tuesday morning, figuring out how to teach Shakespeare to a class of ten-year-olds who are more interested in Pokémon Go than iambic pentameter. The lifestyle is vastly different: longer hours, often weekends included, more interaction with locals (forced and otherwise!), and a different kind of social dynamic. For some, the allure of a completely different culture and the chance to travel outweighs the perceived 'failure' of not being in their original career lane. It's like trading Wall Street for a small apartment in Chengdu – totally different vibes!
Moreover, the 'LBH' label often comes from fellow expats, people who are themselves outsiders. They might see the English teacher as someone who chose a path they themselves didn't take, perhaps because it's easier, or because they simply *like* it. Maybe the English teacher enjoys the daily teaching routine, the sense of accomplishment, the friendships formed over shared noodles and teaching woes. They aren't necessarily the ones who were 'supposed' to do something else but couldn't; they might be the ones who *deliberately* chose this path for its own merits. It's easy to misjudge someone else's contentment.
Of course, the flip side is the sheer *appeal* of this lifestyle for many. It’s a way out of burnout, a chance to slow down the rat race, or an alternative for those who graduated with teaching qualifications but felt pigeonholed elsewhere. For these individuals, teaching in China isn't perceived as a 'loser' back home, but as a 'winner' – a win for work-life balance, a win for adventure, a win for escaping a dead-end job. So, is the 'LBH' tag just a miscommunication, a failure to understand the diverse motivations behind choosing this path? Or does it simply highlight that many expats in China are English teachers, and that, for some, is absolutely fine!
Ultimately, the 'LBH' perception feels a bit like a lazy judgment. It's catchy, yes, but does it capture the full picture? It pigeonholes people based on a single job title and a single context. The reality is way more complex. Some English teachers *are* people who faced difficulties back home and found a new calling here. Others are those who consciously chose a different life path. And many, simply many, are individuals who are incredibly well-suited to teaching, bringing patience, kindness, and a genuine love for sharing the English language and culture in a unique environment.
So, the next time you hear someone say 'LBH,' maybe chuckle knowingly. Remember, it's a term that reflects a particular viewpoint, often from those who are themselves expats juggling different life choices. It doesn't define the thousands of dedicated, passionate English teachers who make China their home and their classroom. They are adventurers, mentors, friends, and sometimes, just sometimes, people who found a way to make a 'failure' work spectacularly well in a whole new country. And isn't that the beauty of expat life? It's rarely just one thing!
Categories:
Chengdu, English,
Rate and Comment
