The term LBH is a bit of a cultural shorthand, a way for expats to mock the idea that teaching English in China is a last resort. It’s the literary equivalent of a low-budget horror movie—everyone assumes it’s going to be terrible, but some of them are actually decent. The irony? Many of these teachers were once stars in their own countries, only to be cast into the role of “teacher” because, well, the economy didn’t want them. It’s like being told you’re the backup plan for a job that doesn’t exist.
Then there’s the whole “Ivory Tower” vs “Boring Old Man” debate. Some expats argue that English teachers in China are just the ones who couldn’t make it in their home countries, while others point out that teaching in a country where English is a second language is a whole different beast. It’s like comparing a chef who’s been fired from a Michelin-starred restaurant to someone who’s never cooked but has a YouTube channel. Both are “losers,” but one might actually know how to season a steak.
The LBH label also plays into the classic “expat vs local” dynamic, where everyone’s a bit of a drama queen. Imagine a group of people who’ve all left their countries for various reasons—some for adventure, some for escape, and some because their parents told them to. Then, they start comparing notes, and suddenly, teaching English becomes the ultimate red flag. It’s like being the kid who brought a calculator to a knife fight.
But let’s not forget the reality: teaching English in China isn’t just for the desperate. Some teachers are there because they love it, others because they’re saving up for a dream, and a few because they’re just really good at explaining the difference between “their” and “there.” The LBH stereotype is a bit like a bad first date—everyone assumes it’s going to be a disaster, but sometimes it’s just a miscommunication.
There’s also the fact that expats in China often have a weird hierarchy. You’ve got the lawyers, the engineers, the doctors, and then the teachers. It’s like a pyramid scheme where everyone’s trying to climb up, but the teachers are stuck at the bottom, waiting for the next person to fall. It’s not that teaching is inherently worse, but it’s the one job that’s always on the receiving end of jokes, like the punchline of a joke that’s been told too many times.
The truth is, LBH is more about perception than reality. A teacher might be a “loser” in one person’s eyes but a hero in another’s. It’s like comparing a superhero to a villain—both have their flaws, but one’s just better at hiding them. The LBH label is a bit like a bad review on a dating app: it’s easy to write, but it doesn’t tell the whole story.
So, what’s the takeaway? Maybe it’s time to stop throwing around the LBH label like it’s a magic wand. Not every English teacher in China is a failed dreamer, and not every expat is a genius. Some people are just there for the noodles, the scenery, and the chance to finally be the one in the group who doesn’t need a second job. After all, life’s too short for bad stereotypes, and too long for bad teachers.
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