Margaret Goes to School

Margaret started school in March. She goes to Bethel Preschool (the same Korean preschool that James attended two years ago.) She loved it at first, but her enthusiasm for it has waned with time. After going happily the first two weeks of school, she suddenly refused to get on the bus. She complained that it was "boring". What a dilemma. We thought about it and changed her schedule from going everyday to three times a week. This has worked well and she goes without complaining now and even has a smile most days.

When September comes, my hope is that she will go everyday. I hope by then she has picked up a little bit of the language and made some friends.

First Day of School 2011

In Korea, school starts the first week of March, after a long winter break that goes through January and February. "Plan A" was to have the children go to one year of Korean school. After spending last summer in Utah, the children missed two months of school, so we all agreed that they should go for two more months and complete a full "year"of school. They still struggle with the language and we are hoping that a few more months will make a difference. Well, "Plan B" got complicated, because Gracie went to Middle School. That meant she had to buy uniforms, cut her hair a certain length, and take school very seriously. We were up for the challenge and we bought her two uniforms. (When we bought her the uniforms the sales clerk looked at us in disbelief, like she'd never sold to a Caucasian student before. I don't think she ever has). After two months of middle school life, which included Gracie getting home from school at 5 p.m. everyday and spending at least two days in detention per week, I decided to talk to her homeroom teacher. During this conference I asked, "Does, Gracie understand 10% of what is being taught?" (I chose 10% because I thought it was conservative and I hoped that she would assure me that she understood more than that). She looked thoughtful for a moment and then answered, "I don't think she understands that much." I think my jaw dropped. We withdrew Gracie the next day. She is now working with BYU online middle school courses and has a personal math teacher/tutor. It has been nice to be with her during the day. She is learning how to make bread. She loves to cook, so we do some "cooking classes". She also is training her puppy as part of her English writing project.
The other children have done a little better with "Plan B". James has a teacher that has been very open-minded and allowed him to have a personal tutor come into class during the Korean hour. This has helped and he is learning how to read Korean. Because James teacher allowed a tutor, Miriam's and Anna's teachers have also allowed tutor sessions during the school day. We are making progress, although it is slow.

Jim took the children over to school on their first day. He came back with tears in his eyes. I said, "It's tough isn't it?" I don't think he understood it until then. It is tough. It's just so different. And they seem so alone, and so brave, and so different.

A Tale of Two Dogs

In February I found myself dog sitting a spoiled housedog for two months. We thought it might help Kipboom overcome his dog aggression, and two dogs cannot possibly be that much more work than one, right? Wrong. The dogs hated each other. I counted the days until we had only one dog again.
One day, while the girls were on the roof cleaning, they started playing with a ball with Kipboom. Something triggered the dogs to start fighting (I think it was the ball--they both wanted it). Miriam, acting heorically tried to break the dogs up. She ended up getting a nasty bite right above the knee. The bite was very deep, but could not be stitched because of the risk of infection. She now has two ugly scars on her left leg. We don't know which dog bit her. It all happened so fast. I like to think it wasn't our dog, but we'll never know.
Rule #1: Don't ever get a dog.
Rule #2: If you break rule #1, don't ever think that dogsitting is the same thing as a playdate for your dog.

Gracie's Speech

Last fall, Susan Grace was nominated to run for class president in her 6th grade class at the Korean school. She was surprised by the nomination and even more surprised when she won. A week later she told me that each class president had the option of running for student body president. I asked her what she was going to do. She said, “I think I’ll run”.
I had mixed feelings about her running. I thought she would make a great president, but knowing the language and the culture certainly must be a requirement for running, no? So, in a bossy mother tone I offered my unsolicited opinion, “If you run, your speech had better be in Korean”.
She worked hard on that speech and many friends and neighbors helped her. The day of the speech arrived and I went to the school to cheer her on. The speeches were streamed live from the principal’s office into each of the thirty classrooms where the students watched them on 52 inch flat screen televisions. I found Miriam’s classroom and watched from there. One by one the class presidents gave their speeches. After each speech the class politely clapped. As time went on, children became bored and there was a lot restless background noise. I waited. Finally, Gracie’s turn came and she started her speech, in English. My heart sank. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I watched the screen as she came to the end of her speech and paused. She looked up at the screen, smiled and then looked back at her paper. She took a deep breath and started to speak. This time, she spoke Korean. She seemed to struggle with every word. The rustling papers stopped. The background chatter ceased. The classroom was completely silent. The only sound was her struggling voice. She finished, looked up at the screen and smiled. The silence broke and there was an unexpected burst of cheering that filled the classroom. My eyes filled with tears as I stepped into the hallway. The hallway roared with the cheers of every classroom in the building. I could not believe it. No one could.
When she came home from school that afternoon she smiled her "I’m so excited" smile and said, “I won Mom!” I hugged her and thought, “Yes, Gracie, you did”.

Orchard Row

One of my favorite places to go walking is on the mountain behind my home. On the mountain, there is a special spot of mine. I call it, “Orchard Row” because of the curving, dirt path lined both sides by big, old trees. There are streams along the path and if I walk far enough, I will eventually find a secluded pond with lily pads. Last January, I walk and hiked along my Orchard Row. It was quiet. Winter’s darkness had settled in there and it was cold and dark—even though it was midmorning. For the most part, my orchard felt "dead". I touched the bark of one of those big, old trees. I couldn’t help but whisper out loud, “Is it possible?” And then, the answer came not from the tree, but seemed to whisper from somewhere else in the orchard, “I promise.” I returned several times during the next few months. Again, it seemed quite hopeless in those winter months that those trees could be any different than they were.

In early April, during my walking there, I noticed the smallest forming of a bud on the long straight branches of one of my trees. I couldn’t help but gently pat the tree, and smile.

Within weeks, Orchard row was all but a million blossoms. The streams were running happily down the hill and children were playing in open meadows. As I entered the orchard from the busy road of concrete and noise, I couldn’t help but feel like I was stepping into an enchanted storybook forest. It’s hard to describe the feeling I get during those days of the blossoms. I feel close to God. I feel close to the Garden Tomb spoken of in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John of the Holy Bible. One day as I walked slowly down the dirt path of “my orchard” looking up at those giant old trees, the sweet fragrance of blossoms filled the air and I could have sworn I heard them singing, “Hallelujah! Oh praise Him! Hallelujah!

So it is with life. Dark moments full of disappointment, despair, and even death may surround us. All hope seems to be futile. The winter is dark and quiet. But, there is a promise: In the right time, during the right season, faith will replace doubt, hope will replace despair, and life will replace death. I promise.

The promise...

A Sign of Spring