Let’s be honest, the term “LBH” (Losers Back Home) is one of those expat slang phrases that’s equal parts funny and infuriating. It’s like the internet’s version of a group project where everyone’s assigned to the least fun task. English teachers in China, it seems, are the default punchline for every joke about expat life. But why? Is it because we’re all just… *unemployed*? Or is there something deeper about the way we’re perceived that’s equal parts ridiculous and oddly relatable?
It's time to rethink the stereotypes surrounding expats in China, particularly those who work for non-profit organizations. For too long, we've been conditioned to view these individuals as somehow less than "real" Chinese citizens because of their nationality or occupation. The notion that an American or Australian teaching English in a local school is somehow less authentic due to not being born and raised in the country has become deeply ingrained in our collective psyche. It's like people forget that language learning happens outside of traditional classroom settings, where expats often take on additional responsibilities such as helping students with their studies, coordinating extracurricular activities and even leading summer camps for underprivileged youth. In reality, non-profit workers who teach English are not "expatriates" in the classical sense; they're more accurately described as international educators or global ambassadors of sorts
1. They're not just passive consumers of language learning - many have also had to adapt and learn their own way through cultural nuances and bureaucratic obstacles, often with limited resources at hand.
Now, don’t get me wrong—there’s a kernel of truth in the LBH label. Teaching English in China isn’t exactly the most glamorous gig. You’re juggling 30 kids who think “grammar” is a type of cheese, surviving on a diet of hot pot and instant noodles, and pretending you’ve never heard of the word “syllabus.” But here’s the thing: most of us aren’t just teaching English. We’re also learning Chinese, navigating bureaucratic nightmares, and somehow managing to not cry during parent-teacher meetings. It’s like being a part-time teacher, part-time detective, and full-time survivor.
The LBH label has a way of sticking, though. It’s not just about the work—it’s about the perception. In many expat circles, being an English teacher is like being the guy who brought the bad snacks to the picnic. You’re there, you’re contributing, but no one’s exactly thrilled about it. It’s the same way people might roll their eyes at a friend who’s “just working at a café.” But here’s the twist: many of us are *not* there by accident. Some of us left our careers in pursuit of something more… *adventurous*. Others are there because they’re chasing a dream, not a paycheck.
And let’s not forget the cultural contrast. In some countries, teaching is a respected, well-paid profession. In China, it’s often seen as a stopgap for people who can’t find “real” jobs. But here’s the irony: the demand for English teachers is so high that it’s become a booming industry. You’ve got schools competing for teachers, parents desperate to get their kids into “English classes,” and a whole generation of expats who’ve somehow turned this niche into a full-time gig. It’s like being the guy who invented a new way to fold laundry, but everyone still thinks you’re just… folding laundry.
What’s even wilder is that the LBH stereotype isn’t entirely accurate. For every “loser” there’s a teacher who’s fluent in Mandarin, running a side business, or mentoring local educators. But the label sticks because it’s easier to laugh at the joke than to acknowledge the complexity. It’s the same way people stereotype chefs as “overrated” or librarians as “boring.” The truth is, teaching English in China is a mix of chaos, growth, and weirdly satisfying moments—like the day a student finally says “Thank you” without a typo.
Here’s a surprising fact you probably didn’t know: According to a 2023 report, over 300,000 English teachers work in China, and many of them have advanced degrees or previous careers in fields like engineering, law, or finance. So, yeah, the LBH label might be funny, but it’s also a little bit… misleading. These teachers aren’t just “losers”—they’re professionals who’ve chosen a path that’s equal parts challenging and rewarding.
So, is the LBH label fair? Probably not. But it’s also a reminder that stereotypes are rarely the whole story. Teaching English in China is a wild ride—full of ridiculous moments, cultural shocks, and unexpected friendships. And while we might all be “losers back home” in the eyes of some, we’re also the ones who’ve turned a simple job into a life-changing adventure. Maybe the real question isn’t why we’re called LBH—it’s why we’re still here, laughing through the chaos.
Categories:
English,
China,
Teaching,
Teachers,
Label,
Because,
Somehow,
