Propaganda posters can be humorously parent-esque, like a sign outside the Guangzhou train station with a cartoon ram giving a thumbs up, advising: "Don't trust strangers." A nearby sign said, "Don't eat those cookies! You'll ruin your dinner."

Propaganda posters can seem hilariously obvious, like a small metal plate in a village that read: "If you have a dispute, go to court."

They can also offer insights on what people want China to be, like a huge red-and-white sign I saw in Chaozhou proclaiming: "Have a boy; have a girl; it's all the same. Girls continue the family line too."

Propaganda posters can be optimistic to the point of fantasy, yet some can be strangely modest. It's only after you start getting used to the detached-from-reality optimism of propaganda signs that a sign hung at the super-elite high school where I taught seems funny: "Let's try to be fluent English speakers." Just try?

Or they can be disappointing, like the "be a cute person" sign. When I returned home, my joy at being declared cute came to a tragic end when I learned that "being a cute person" has a different meaning altogether.

"Being a cute person" is a revolutionary idea referring to someone who makes great contributions to the country. Normally, soldiers, volunteers and others who have made great sacrifices for the country count as "cute." (Here, ke'ai's literal meaning of "lovable" is probably a better translation; we should love these people because they help the country.)

Learning of the true requirements for national heroes, I was as sad about my baby face as I was when I left for China. Having a young face and teaching English may not be easy, but I still had more hurdles to clear before being knighted as "cute."

In the meantime, I'm urging my friends to read the posters they so often ignore. They'll make you smile, and they might even call you good-looking.