It’s not uncommon to hear expats in China whisper about “LBH” like it’s a cursed word, a label that sticks to English teachers like gum on a shoe. The term feels like a punchline, a joke that’s been told so often it’s lost its edge, but the truth is, it’s a stereotype that’s as sticky as the glue on a child’s homework. You’d think teaching English in a country where Mandarin is the lingua franca would be a dream gig, but somehow, it’s become the punchline to a joke no one finds funny. Maybe it’s the way they’re always seen as the “backup plan,” the last resort for people who couldn’t land a job back home. Or maybe it’s the way they’re stuck in a cycle of grading essays that sound like they were written by a toddler who’s never heard of grammar.
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Then there’s the travel angle, which is both a blessing and a curse. English teachers in China get to see places most people can only dream of—mountains that touch the sky, ancient temples that whisper secrets, and cities that feel like they’re alive. But the irony is, they’re often too busy grading papers or planning lessons to enjoy it. Picture this: a teacher who’s been to Xi’an but has no idea what the Terracotta Army looks like because they were too busy correcting “I go to school” instead of “I went to school.” It’s like being handed a passport but never leaving the airport.
The LBH label also has a funny way of making people question their own choices. Why did I choose this? Why am I here? But the truth is, many of these teachers are doing it for reasons that don’t fit into a neat little box. Some are chasing adventure, others are escaping a life that felt like a never-ending spreadsheet. The stigma doesn’t account for the fact that teaching English in China can be a gateway to a life filled with unexpected friendships, cultural shocks, and moments that make you wonder if you’ve accidentally stepped into a movie.
And let’s not forget the absurdity of the situation. Picture a teacher who’s fluent in English but has to explain to a student that “I’m not a native speaker, but I speak it pretty well.” Or the time they tried to use a local phrase and ended up offending someone who thought they were using a swear word. It’s like being a tourist in your own life, constantly learning the rules of a culture you’re trying to understand. The LBH label feels like a joke that’s been told too many times, but the reality is a lot more complicated than a punchline.
There’s also the unspoken truth that some LBHs are just as successful as their peers, even if they don’t have the “perfect” job. A teacher who’s making a difference in a child’s life, or someone who’s found a community in a place they never thought they’d end up. The stigma ignores the fact that sometimes, the best opportunities come from the least expected places. It’s like being told you’re a “back-up plan” when you’re actually the main event.
But here’s the kicker: the LBH label isn’t just about teaching. It’s about the way people are judged for their choices, for taking a road less traveled. It’s about the fear of being seen as someone who couldn’t make it elsewhere, even when they’re thriving in a completely different way. It’s a reminder that success isn’t a straight line—it’s a winding path filled with detours, surprises, and the occasional wrong turn.
So, the next time you hear someone call an English teacher in China an LBH, remember that behind the label is a story worth telling. A story of people who chose to live in a country where the language is different, the food is spicy, and the culture is a whirlwind of traditions and modernity. They’re not losers—they’re explorers, teachers, and dreamers, navigating a world that’s as confusing as it is beautiful. And maybe, just maybe, the real joke is that they’re the ones who ended up finding the most interesting adventure of all.
Categories:
English,
Label,
People,
China,
Teachers,
Joke,
Maybe,
