NickWatson
Member
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2025
- Member Type
- Interested in Language
- Native Language
- Chinese
- Home Country
- China
- Current Location
- China
Maurice: The Self-Appointed Irish Ambassador
Excerpt from *Nick Watson’s Collection of Anecdotes with Foreign Teachers*
I used to work in the foreign teacher placement business—you know, the kind of job where you help foreigners find teaching jobs in China and help schools hire them. On the surface, it looked like recruitment, but in reality, it was more like a three-in-one combo of cultural translator, part-time therapist, and high-level mediator. I genuinely loved that job, but when the pandemic hit, the whole industry crashed overnight—like someone just yanked out the power cord.
After years in the field, I’d seen all kinds of people from all over the world. But the one who left the deepest impression on me was this guy—Maurice, a fella straight out of Ireland. How do I even describe him... Imagine a walking documentary titled “The Untold Secrets of Ireland”, overdubbed with a thick Irish accent and the constant background music of historical commentary—yep, that’s him.
Maurice had a very special talent: no matter what you talked about, he could somehow steer the conversation back to “that whole Ireland vs. Britain thing.” Say something like, “Maurice, this bubble tea is actually pretty good.” He’d say, “Of course! No British imperialist sugar ruining it!” Mention, “The weather in Shanghai’s been nice lately.” He’d reply, “Unlike back in Ireland, where we’ve been under constant political storm clouds from the Brits!”
When I first met him, he handed me a song—It’s a Long Way to Tipperary—with this solemn look in his eyes, as if he were handing over a declaration of independence. I thought it was just a catchy old tune, but then he launched into this historical deep dive that almost made me want to salute a flag.
He often talked about his father too, like he was some misunderstood national hero. “My dad taught me from a young age—we’re not British, never have been, never will be!” he’d declare. At one point, I started to wonder if Maurice had been singing Come Out, Ye Black and Tans in his cradle.
Our office back then was a melting pot of cultures: the Americans talked about burgers and freedom, the Germans discussed efficiency and subways, the French complained their coffee wasn’t fragrant enough. But Maurice? He could turn even the most mundane comment into a TED Talk on colonial trauma, national identity, and Irish pride. Honestly, if he hadn’t become a teacher, he could’ve made a solid career as Ireland’s unofficial ambassador.
Yes, he’d sometimes go off on those “slightly obsessive” historical rants, but the truth is—he was a kind, sincere guy, and even kind of adorable at times.
He wasn’t some angry extremist. He was more like a stand-up historian—using jokes and stories to carry the weight of history. With a smile on his face and fire in his heart, he’d say, “We’re different”—and he meant it.
And somehow, you believed him.
Excerpt from *Nick Watson’s Collection of Anecdotes with Foreign Teachers*
I used to work in the foreign teacher placement business—you know, the kind of job where you help foreigners find teaching jobs in China and help schools hire them. On the surface, it looked like recruitment, but in reality, it was more like a three-in-one combo of cultural translator, part-time therapist, and high-level mediator. I genuinely loved that job, but when the pandemic hit, the whole industry crashed overnight—like someone just yanked out the power cord.
After years in the field, I’d seen all kinds of people from all over the world. But the one who left the deepest impression on me was this guy—Maurice, a fella straight out of Ireland. How do I even describe him... Imagine a walking documentary titled “The Untold Secrets of Ireland”, overdubbed with a thick Irish accent and the constant background music of historical commentary—yep, that’s him.
Maurice had a very special talent: no matter what you talked about, he could somehow steer the conversation back to “that whole Ireland vs. Britain thing.” Say something like, “Maurice, this bubble tea is actually pretty good.” He’d say, “Of course! No British imperialist sugar ruining it!” Mention, “The weather in Shanghai’s been nice lately.” He’d reply, “Unlike back in Ireland, where we’ve been under constant political storm clouds from the Brits!”
When I first met him, he handed me a song—It’s a Long Way to Tipperary—with this solemn look in his eyes, as if he were handing over a declaration of independence. I thought it was just a catchy old tune, but then he launched into this historical deep dive that almost made me want to salute a flag.
He often talked about his father too, like he was some misunderstood national hero. “My dad taught me from a young age—we’re not British, never have been, never will be!” he’d declare. At one point, I started to wonder if Maurice had been singing Come Out, Ye Black and Tans in his cradle.
Our office back then was a melting pot of cultures: the Americans talked about burgers and freedom, the Germans discussed efficiency and subways, the French complained their coffee wasn’t fragrant enough. But Maurice? He could turn even the most mundane comment into a TED Talk on colonial trauma, national identity, and Irish pride. Honestly, if he hadn’t become a teacher, he could’ve made a solid career as Ireland’s unofficial ambassador.
Yes, he’d sometimes go off on those “slightly obsessive” historical rants, but the truth is—he was a kind, sincere guy, and even kind of adorable at times.
He wasn’t some angry extremist. He was more like a stand-up historian—using jokes and stories to carry the weight of history. With a smile on his face and fire in his heart, he’d say, “We’re different”—and he meant it.
And somehow, you believed him.
