June 4, 2003
My name is Sue Fan. The name I was given at birth, in Chinese, is Wu
Su. It is important to tell you this, because it is the name by which
Russ called me. To this day, whenever I think of Russ, his
voice “WU SU” rings
here (ear) and here (heart).
I first met Russ in 1978. Over the years I have worked with him in various
capacities, including occasionally being pulled in to translate for him.
Translating for Russ is not easy. He did not just take anything on face
value. The inquisitive
nature of his meant he asked questions, many of them – “It sounded
different than that other word, so what’s the difference?” or “What
did that really mean?” He forced me to think hard about my own language,
my own culture, and myself.
You all have the program in your hands. Take a close look at the cover
photo. What I want to do today is to tell you the story about this picture.
The time was twenty years ago in early fall. You see Russ walking in
his signature stride, one hand in the trouser pocket, the other hand
holding a cigarette. He looked a little tired, but pleased. His eyes
casting upward,
as if uttering under his breath, “en sha’la” (God willing),
and if you look carefully, you’ll see a thin whiff of smoke rose about
2 inches from his nose.
This entourage had just walked out of the opening ceremony of the first
English Language Center in Beijing that was created with the joint effort
of UCLA and the Graduate School of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. To
the right
of Russ, we have Mr. Wu Tang, President of the Graduate School, to the
left, the American teachers from UCLA.
It all started in the New Year of 1980. Thirteen UCLA faculty and deans
went to China. UCLA was one of 4 American universities the Chinese government
invited to enter a door that had been closed to much of the Western World
for decades. The UCLA Thirteen took a boat up the Pearl River and landed
at Guangzhou.
At that time, American and Chinese governments had just reached an agreement
to place hundreds of Chinese scholars to do academic work in the U.S.
One of the first questions that came out in the early meetings was, “OK,
how do these scholars get the language skills to function in an academic environment
in America?” Chinese officials there said, “We’ll send them
abroad to do intensive English language studies first, in the U.S. or perhaps
the U.K. …” Russ took out a paper napkin, started to jot down some
numbers. Then he looked up, “But, that’ll will cost you a fortune,
and you’d have to do this year after year!” Then he started to
diagram a vision.
For the next two weeks, members of the UCLA delegation hammered out a
curriculum for a proposed English language Center in China. After many
months of negotiations, one after another, four Centers were inaugurated
in China.
One opened in Guangzhou, at the Zhongshan University. That was for scholars
sponsored by the Ministry of Education. There were three in Beijing,
one for the Academy of Sciences, one for the school under the Foreign
Trade Ministry,
and a third under the Academy of Social Sciences. Russ named these the
ELCs. So we had GELC, GSELC, BELC, and SSECL. The teachers Russ handpicked
to go
there nicknamed themselves, ELCers. Over the course of a decade of this
program, over 100 ELCers traveled to China.
One might say, well, English Language Centers are not a new concept.
And thousands of English speakers have traveled to China to teach English.
So what’s so special about these ELCs and ELCers? If Russ were up here
today, I know he would want to make sure you understand that these Centers
are significant in several ways.
One term Russ liked to use, is institution building. In granting agency
jargons, it meant, “sustainability”. In layman’s terms, it
meant, “to last forever.” It was spelt out in each contract that
in a set number of years, China would have the full capacity to run these
Centers themselves. In the early 1980s, each summer, a group of Chinese
administrators came to UCLA to help finalize the curriculum. In classrooms
and lesson
plan
sessions, Chinese teachers shadowed UCLA teachers. Decisions were not
made without consensus from both sides. Russ also made sure that financial
investment
came from both the U.S. and the Chinese sides. Some 50 Chinese teachers
came for training in TESL. Thousands of students graduated from these
language Centers
carrying certificates bearing the signature of Russell Campbell. These
teachers and students are now found all over China, U.S. and other parts
of the world,
having become pillars of their fields. The UCLA seal from these programs
has ceased to appear on these certificates, but the centers have set
deep roots in China, tended to by the off springs of the earlier generation.
I have to remind you that in those pre-Tienanmen days of the early 1980’s,
China was just taking its initial wobbly steps out of the ruins of Cultural
Revolution. The grounds of the academic community were still littered
with landmines. Lesson plan and curriculum design discussions were ripe
with opportunities
to trip over these mines. How do you navigate through these minefields
while retaining academic integrity of the teaching and research, and
at the same
time, still showing understanding and respect for an entirely different
culture?
How did Russ function in that setting? I once overheard a comment from
a Chinese official, “Campbell Jiao Shou…Yuang Gu de hen, den ta
ren jen hao. (Professor Campbell. One stubborn fellow, but he is such
a good man.) In his gentle and courteous way, Russ knew how to stand
firm on his ground.
And they understood.
I could never forget this scene: After a session of intense debate, this
stony faced official in Mao jacket walked up to Russ. Russ extended his
hands, uncertain if he should get ready for another round. This official
reached over
and gave Russ a hearty bear hug, and three firm pats on the back. At
that moment, we knew Russ had won them over…
There were many officials to win over. One who presided at opening of
the Foreign Trade sponsored ELC later became the president of China,
Jiang Zeming. But Russ rarely mentioned this, and he probably did not
remember and
did not care. While he had to deal with high-level cadres to get things
done, in his heart, the truly important people are the ELCers, the teachers
from
UCLA.
Those he handpicked to travel to China, Russ insisted on calling them
Teacher/ Researchers. Each was selected not only because they could teach
well, but on account of the research topic that they proposed to complete
while in
China.
But his concern for them reached far beyond what progress each
was making on the research project. Their general well-being were constantly
in
his mind. Those were pre-email days. Faxes and telephone connections
were erratic. The
letters accumulated from these days took over several file cabinets.
Those telephone calls that came in the middle of the night, well, Marge
knew them
well.
The phone calls and letters range from matters of pedagogy to, could
you convince them to let my son into that pre-school? Or we couldn’t
seem to get hot water in these rooms! On his site visits, he took them
in groups and one-on-one to give pep talks and to help them ease the
cravings for pizzas
and hamburgers. To this day I could not figure out how Russ managed to
use the meager meal per diem he received to treat those dozens of people
on these
trips. In addition each time he went to China, he traveled like Santa
Clause, loaded with bags-full of goodies. And Marge probably still remembered
those
bags of chocolate Kisses he packed each time.
The sensibility and empathy Russ demonstrated must have come from his
own experience of traveling the far corners of the world, with his own
family members. It also came from a caring and warm personality. And
yet those gestures
did not mean he catered to every whim and fancy of these far away ELCers.
He was expansive in his generosity, and I also knew him to have stood
firm when
he had to teach people how to respect others. He knew when to draw the
line between kindness and indulgence. Some teachers told me he was
like a father they never had. I certainly felt that he reminded me
of my own.
When one talks about the passing of an important person, one might say
how a shiny star above cast its light upon thousands underneath…That
is NOT Russ. What Russ is, is that warm electrical current that passes through
the many hundreds of hearts. That current would trigger a glitter in the eye,
and a smile on the face. Each gave out a glow of a warm memory, the memory
of a fine human being who permanently changed one’s life. We are lucky
to have such an encounter in our lifetime. I consider myself a very lucky
person indeed. Thank you…
Sue W. Fan, UCLA, June 4,
2003