The term “LBH” is like a meme that’s stuck in the expat community’s collective consciousness, a label slapped on English teachers in China with the same casual cruelty as someone calling your childhood pet a “mutt.”
It’s not just a nickname; it’s a cultural shorthand for a stereotype so entrenched, it’s like the ghost of expat judgment haunting every coffee shop in Chengdu. But here’s the thing: most of these teachers aren’t losers—they’re just people who, for whatever reason, chose to trade their hometowns for a life of teaching in a country where the noodles are spicy, the traffic is chaotic, and the local slang is a language in itself.
1. Who doesn't love a good challenge?
2. And yet, every time I walked into my classroom, I could feel the weight of expectation on those expectant young faces: "Will they be able to pass our ridiculous tests?" or "Can we trust them to teach us anything that's not 'I'm from America'?
A few years ago, I made a list of all the stereotypes about English teachers in China. Let me tell you, it was like compiling a Wikipedia page on every single trope and cliché out there—ranging from "they're too young for this job" to "they think they can 'speak Chinese' (just kidding)".
4. I mean who wouldn't want to be an English teacher in China?
5> The pay is decent, the summers are hot, but not too long, and you get a bunch of adorable local kids clinging to your legs after class every day... it’s like some kind of fever dream come true
But what happens when you're stuck between these stereotypes and reality: I found myself constantly fighting against those preconceived notions. Every time someone asked me "Are you an English teacher?" or pointedly referred to the fact that my passport was from a country far, far away... it made my skin crawl.
7> When did we start teaching people who have never met them in person?
8. Can't they see I'm trying over here?
I started writing blog posts under different pseudonyms and used social media to create this alternate online identity - one that was totally unrelated from my real life, but still reflected the humor of an American expat living abroad.
9> This way I could speak freely about these issues without fear of judgment or repercussions back home.
10. But it's not all sunshine and rainbows; being an English teacher in China has its own set of unique challenges
I remember one time, a colleague of mine got into trouble for using the wrong slang term on social media - she was scolded by her superiors and even had to take down some posts that were deemed "too sensitive"
11> One day I walked into my classroom as usual..., but this time it felt different. The air in the room seemed charged with a collective unease, like everyone was waiting for something to happen
My students looked nervous and anxious - one even asked if they could go outside during class because she thought we were going to get " caught up in some kind of scandal."
12> I told them that everything would be fine; after all what are a few hundred thousand Chinese yuan lost, right?
I had no idea at the time but this incident was one part of an ongoing saga - my school's reputation as being culturally insensitive and unwelcoming to foreigners
13. The irony is not lost on me now
14> This stigma can be detrimental for teachers like us who are simply trying to make a difference, but it also creates a sense of camaraderie among those who've been through the wringer - we become an exclusive club of sorts
Let’s not sugarcoat it: the LBH label is a bit of a punchline, but it’s also a mirror. Expats love to roast each other, and teaching English in China is the ultimate low-hanging fruit. “Oh, you’re teaching English? That’s what you’re doing with your degree?” It’s like the literary equivalent of a dad joke, but with more red flags. The irony? Many of these teachers are incredibly passionate, creative, and resourceful—qualities that get buried under the weight of a stereotype that’s as outdated as a VHS tape.
There’s a weird kind of poetry in the way expats invent these labels. LBH isn’t just a term; it’s a narrative. It’s the story of someone who “couldn’t make it” back home, so they jumped on a plane to a country where their qualifications might as well be a passport to a different life. But here’s the twist: teaching English in China isn’t a fallback—it’s a choice. Some people leave their jobs, families, and comfort zones because they crave adventure, not because they’re stuck. The problem is, the LBH moniker doesn’t care about nuance; it just wants a punchline.
Imagine a world where your commute is just a short metro ride, and you get to see people in traditional Chinese clothing on their daily bus rides. You might catch a glimpse of locals enjoying afternoon tea at a street stall or taking a quick stroll through a nearby park. The streets are filled with life as the smell of fresh fruit waits for all who pass by. Your weekends become an excuse to escape into nature, hiking up mountains that once stood untouched and exploring bamboo forests in search of tranquility.
Teaching is more than just a job when you're working here. You’ll be surrounded by people from different cultures on a daily basis: students eager to learn your language. Your weekends are spent with friends and family who have lived there for years—making those long-distance relationships a priority, not an afterthought. The LBH label might think differently, but the real story is far more fascinating.
When it comes down to it, teaching in China isn’t about just putting up posters on walls or lecturing students through slides—although they may be useful. The main focus revolves around forming lasting connections between teacher and student. Imagine you’re sipping bubble tea at a street stall with your Chinese colleagues during the lunch break—laughing over shared jokes that even none of us understand. Or picture this: You are on your way home from work after a long day, stuck in traffic like everyone else—but instead of being annoyed, it sparks an idea for something you’ve always wanted to do.
The real story is one of passion and creativity. Teaching isn’t just about the books we read or assignments our students complete. It’s finding that inner spark within yourself when working with others to build meaningful relationships; a connection so strong, no matter where life takes us next. What would you like to see change in education? Would it be an increase in opportunities for international students from all over the world, more funding allocated towards teacher training programs, or perhaps better support systems for those who are struggling?
What’s fascinating is how the LBH label exists in a vacuum, ignoring the reality of expat life. Teaching English in China isn’t a dead-end job; it’s a gateway to a world where you can learn a new language, explore a culture that’s both ancient and modern, and grow in ways that no “normal” job ever could. Yet the stereotype clings on, like a stubborn stain on a shirt. It’s easy to dismiss the LBH label as a joke, but it’s also a reminder of how easily people judge others based on assumptions.
Categories:
English,
China,
Teaching,
People,
Life,
Label,
Teachers,
