Who knows? If I'd studied Bird by Bird, this thing might have taken off and actually been a book. But as things stand, you can download the whole damn thing for free.

A few years ago, I came to realize there were limits to the personal satisfaction I could hope to derive from my corporate work. So I took a plane to a world of different possibilities and became a university instructor in Beijing.

China gave me freedom. Set before the students with no instructions or guidance, I fashioned courses that resembled a series of discussions about interesting ideas. I'd assign short texts as homework reading — New York Times articles highlighting contemporary issues and controversies, excerpts from literary masterpieces, occasionally miscellaneous items like Monty Python skits and classic song lyrics — then hold classes in which the meanings would be explored and elucidated.

I first taught at an academically average institution, then spent the following year at Tsinghua University, which in China is widely considered the best school in the nation. Then I joined a third university — one that is also quite special but, as I was to find, rather more sinister.

The China Foreign Affairs University (CFAU) is China's diplomacy school. It operates under China's Foreign Ministry and, to quote its website, is "aimed at preparing high calibre personnel for foreign service, international studies, and other careers related to international business and law."

At CFAU I taught Diplomacy, Law, and English majors. I received many comments praising my teaching, often also mentioning my "strictness" and the students' "nervousness" in my classes. It seemed my penchant for demanding full attention during the 90 minutes I spent with each class weekly, combined with my expectation that students actually engage their brains rather than merely regurgitating what I told them, was something quite extraordinary in their experience.

As late as an idle weekend in early November, 2002, two months after the start of classes, I could think: "I feel almost like a king in this place." Life was good. The work was stimulating and enjoyable; my students knew they were getting something unique and were appreciative; I'd discovered some really good local restaurants. Everything was generally quite pleasant.

Then I was summoned for a meeting with Ms. Wang Yan, the director of CFAU's Foreign Affairs Office. She was the unique person at the school who'd always displayed a hostile attitude (the reason was a secret I'd only discover later). She got right to the point. The deans of the Diplomacy and Law departments had recently passed along to her letters from the students demanding urgent action with regard to serious problems with my teaching.

Serious problems? This was news to me.

"Who are these students?" I asked skeptically.

"Look!" she retorted, whipping out papers and holding them up to my face accusingly.

It seemed just about 100% of my Diplomacy and Law students had signed letters of complaint about me.