I play a wooden flute. The tin whistle, in contrast, is high-pitched and is not exactly my favorite, though I keep one in my car’s glove compartment. I would be teaching three classes, a total of 75 bright, animated Chinese students, and it was up to me to bring with me all materials. So it had to be whistles. Yes, of course, they were made in China. I bought them mail-order in the United States, and STIMS generously covered the costs.

What’s STIMS? you ask. Let me back up. I discovered Irish traditional music nine years ago on a trip via Aer Lingus to Madrid, of all places, with a stopover in Shannon, Ireland. I had never been to Ireland so my wife and I arranged to spend two nights in Doolin, County Clare. There, hearing traditional Irish music in pubs at both ends of the village, I was, as it were, “struck by lightning” and have never been the same since. I play with the Shamrogues, a group of volunteer musicians who are members of STIMS. We perform about 25 gigs a year, often for free or for a nominal charge, promoting awareness of Irish culture, and raising funds for our nonprofit group the Shamrock Traditional Irish Music Society. We help leading Irish musicians publish their books, their musical compositions, and their CDs. We arrange and promote traditional Irish music concerts throughout Fairfield County, Connection. Earl Hitchner, who was a writer for the Wall Street Journal and Irish Echo, commended us, saying “The Shamrock Traditional Irish Music Society must now be considered the premier East Coast not-for-profit organization presenting high-quality live Irish traditional music.” Newman’s Own Foundation has generously supported us, and we are funded annually by grants from the Connecticut Commission on Culture and Tourism, and by Culture Ireland.

Our mission in Fairfield County is to reach out, to pass on the tradition. All of the month of March (“Saint Patrick’s month”) finds us in both suburban or inner-city elementary schools, nursing homes, hospitals, and assisted living or senior centers. We sponsor many workshops, the Catskills Irish Arts Week in East Durham, NY, and play at many of the local Irish festivals. You’ll find us at pubs, beach parties, weddings, memorial celebrations, town-sponsored July Fourth activities, Santa Claus festivities, and church and scouting events. Fanatics one and all, we love our Irish music, and share it with everyone, everywhere. Our spouses are saints for putting up with all of this — our evenings out, weekends away, and in a few instances, our infinite practice hours at home. We have quite a large following because we bring to Fairfield County many of the best Irish musicians in the world.

My favorite part is playing for elementary school children, seeing their curiosity, spontaneity, and excitement. My volunteer adventure in China was much like that, but also quite unique. Representing the AYA, the Yale-China Association and STIMS, I reached out and brought Irish music, nursery tunes, tin whistles, The Dawning of the Day, and our volunteer tradition to the wonderful kids of Xiuning, China.

You’ve heard of the Tiger Mother, right? It is much worse than that in China. Four Chinese grandparents, two parents, one child, and in their eyes the entire future is vested in that child. It is referred to as the “4-2-1 pressure.” You cannot leave your home town. It is illegal to move around in China. Excelling in school, gaining admission to college, is the ticket out. Your life and livelihood depend on it. These youngsters were totally regimented, literally marching around school, trained to follow. No independence, individuality, creativity or spontaneity. No thinking outside the box. Not in elementary school, and not even in college. For the most part, no arts, no music, no outside interests. They study intensely all year, they study all summer. But this was special and they were required by county officials and the school administration to interrupt their summer study regime and come back to school, and learn with us.

I’d like to think my classes were organized. These kids learned a lot, at least two tunes a day. I had different Chinese college students, including one named Chocolate, another named Angel, helping keep order, and interpreting. One little boy sitting in the back forgot his whistle on our second day (Tuesday). A lady who was monitoring the class and must have been the regular teacher, slapped him hard. He ran out; five minutes later he came back with a borrowed whistle. No one forgot their whistle after that. They were serious, focused, and learned quickly. Perfect students. I wanted to teach more advanced music in the afternoon, but all plans were made months in advance and the program required all of us at the elementary school to teach a sport. I am a racquet person, so I proposed to run a ping pong program.

Afternoons I found myself in charge of what appeared to be the entire 5th grade, possibly 10 classes, several hundred kids, arriving in waves from 2 to 5pm. In China, if you show ping-pong or musical talent, you are taken out of school and put in a specialized program. China won every table tennis medal at the Beijing Olympics, individual and team, men and women. But my youngsters were on the academic track; there was some real talent, but no ping-pong aces.

We had an Olympic quality, air-conditioned, brightly lit palatial gymnasium, with rubberized flooring, 25 state-of-the-art tables, dividers, and 12 to15 feet of space behind each table. I stayed at one table, and they lined up to take me on. Older kids then wanted to play me, and finally various teachers and the school principal (though I did not know who she was at the time) stepped up. The first afternoon was chaotic, to the Chinese teachers’ dismay. At their request, we imposed order, our kind of order. The kids were wonderful, sharing with one another, tables, paddles and balls. They were loud, animated, exuberant, joyful. I suspect this classy arena was for the ping-pong stars, not these scholars. So this was a treat for them and they had a ball. And so did we.

Exactly one year before, Frankie Gavin, De Dannan, and the Dublin Philharmonic had performed in the great concert halls of Shanghai and Beijing. But my 5th graders in the out-of-the-way provincial town of Xiuning, in only one week, playing a strange new instrument, learned about a dozen tunes, and played that final Sunday before 800 spectators, opening with Ireland’s iconic march, Dawning of the Day, bringing tears to the eyes of my Irish friend. Frankie may return, but I wonder . . .

Will the children and families of Xiuning, China ever see the likes of this, or us, again? I certainly hope so.