Warm and Sunny

I loved swimming in Thailand. The air and the water were surprisingly warm. No blue lips, shivering on the lounge, or "getting used to the water" (all things that deter me from enjoying a swim). It was so warm that even night swimming was fun. I loved swimming in Thailand.

Who Knew?

I've wanted to visit Thailand since we first moved to Korea. Jim speaks Thai and I thought it would be fun and enlightening to see him speak and interact with the Thai people. We finally made it to Thailand. I think that Jim spoke more Thai than English while we were there. He was having so much fun he was giddy. Who knew???

Ground Level

Someday, I hope to live on the ground level.
Seoul is a sea of concrete buildings and it seems like everywhere I go I have to use the elevator. All of the department stores, grocery stores, doctor’s offices, the elementary school, our church building, and our apartment building all have multiple floors. Margaret has the stamina to climb one flight of stairs at a snail’s pace while whining, “Wait for me, Mom. I’m too tired”; and Daniel would like to climb any flight of stairs but can’t because he is riding in the stroller. In nearly every situation, I look for the elevator. I’ve crammed, shoulder to shoulder into many elevators, apologizing as my stroller wheels smash the tiny feet of a little old lady. The only bearable thing to do in such a small crowded space is to look up and breathe. My poor kids are smothered in the crowd below staring straight ahead with their noses or cheeks rubbing up against some stranger’s coat, jacket or tie.
I live on the fourth floor. Thank goodness for the elevator in my building. Today, it took all of my Costco groceries up four flights of stairs for me. My friend lives on the 35th floor. She has a nice view, but I heard its bad fengshui to be so far from the earth. I believe it.
Like all elevators, the elevators in Seoul go up and they go down. In one sense I feel like my life here in Korea is an emotional ride on an elevator and my experiences seem to be one extreme or the other. There’s really not much in between for me. Watching my children go to a new school in a foreign language and culture is one of the toughest, roughest things I have ever done. Seeing them meet the challenge with a smile and optimism is one of the sweetest, most humbling moments of my life.
The day after the children started school our family took a trip to Thailand. In Thailand, sipping Pina Colada at the pool I felt like I was on cloud nine. I couldn’t help but think, “When am I going to get off the elevator and be on the ground?”

First Day

On the first day of school I walked with the children. Outside the gates of the school sat three or four older Korean women selling bouquets of bright flowers wrapped in clear cellophane. The entryway to the schoolyard was crowded with hoards of people. It was impossible for us to walk through the gates without brushing up against people on both sides. Once through the gates I think my mouth gaped open because of the number of children lined up row after row. Hundreds. Inside the elementary school building, same. Hundreds of children. I walked James to his classroom. The forty desks were lined up in the small and crowded classroom row by row with very little space for the five year old children to scoot in and out. James sat in the only vacant seat in the back corner. The chubby boy in front of him snickered, "foreigner", pointing his finger at James. James stared straight ahead. Didn't flinch. My eyes were full of tears as I stood in the back of the crowded room against the wall shoulder to shoulder with the other parents. After standing there for half an hour while his teacher gave instructions that I could not understand the parents were dismissed and I left the room. I felt very overwhelmed, so much that I could hardly walk down the cold, unheated hallway. Somehow, I managed to smile at a few of the parents who stared curiously at me. Out of nowhere the words to a song came into my mind, "I am proud to be an American". I looked around me. No, I am humbled to be an American. Every country I have visited is full of people trying to get to America. After today, I know why.

Spring?

The other day I hiked up the mountain behind our home with James. It was a mild winter morning and the earth was warm and muddy. You could just smell the dirt. It made me think of a book that I read, Winter Wheat by Mildred Walker. One of my favorite parts in the book is when the main character and her mother are in the garden early in the spring. They both take off their shoes and walk around in the mud. The mother looks at her daughter and says, "spring". I love that image.

When James and I were up on the mountain and we were squishing in the mud my heart seemed to sing out, "spring is coming!" I turned to James and said, "Can you feel it? Spring is coming." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of air. Yes, spring is coming.

James and I found a shaddy spot in the trees where the snow was soft and melting and we built a snow bunny. Then we played counting games as we skipped down the stairs at the bottom of the mountain.

Square Peg, Round Hole. Ouch.

Last fall a dear friend of mine, out of the blue, offered to teach me Korean. I hesitated, knowing that it would be difficult in my hectic life to find time to study and if I did make time to stretch myself mentally, would I want to dedicate it to learning Korean? After some thought and with the encouragement of my husband, I decided it would be fun to spend time with my friend no matter what we were doing, so I took her up on her offer and found a babysitter for Friday mornings so that she could tutor me in Korean. What happened has been remarkable to me. She became my private Korean tutor in so much more than the Korean language. During our sessions together I have discovered the enchanting side of traditional Korean arts and culture. This side of Korea is very easy for me to love. I also discovered that the Korean language is insanely difficult for me to learn. I am confused and dumbfounded during many of our language lessons.
There are other things about Korean culture that make absolutely no sense to me: traffic patterns, children wearing snow pants to school instead of turning on the heat, and starting school in the spring (March 2) instead of the fall, just to mention a few.
Knowing how difficult this culture clash may be on our children attending Korean public school, we have formulated a “Plan B”. Plan B is home schooling them, if plan A fails. Ugg. I am one of those people who said, “I would never home school" (somehow I forgot Kim’s Rule #1 in How to Survive Life: Never Say Never.) We also decided that no matter what, I would need to home school them in a few of the subjects so that they will not get behind in the American curriculum. This winter they have been home with me for over eight weeks. Much of this time has been dedicated to figuring out how we are going to “home school”.
After eight weeks, I am asking myself, “How am I going to do this?” I am trying to decide if our school will be named "The School of Blood, Sweat and Tears" or "The School of Hard Knocks".

It hasn't been all bad.
Good things about this month:
1. Reading “Little Town on the Prairie” with Anna. Circling words that we don’t know and looking them up. Making sentences with the words.
2. Teaching Susan Grace how to make bread, how to plan dinners for a week, and how to cook chicken fajitas.
3. Diving into personal progress with Gracie and watching her do some really great things.
4. Reading “Bud, Not Buddy” and “Children of the Dustbowl” with Miriam and discussing the Great Depression and the value of work.
5. Reading “The House of the Scorpion” with Susan Grace and discussing what makes us human.
6. Playing chess with James.
7. Playing odd and even number games with James.
8. Hearing James read the scriptures out loud for the first time.
9. Delivering 130 Valentine cookies to the children’s friends at their old school.
10. Studying things with the children that I value and find interesting.
11. Doing things with the children that I have wanted to do but never have time to do when they have a busy school schedule.
But, it hasn't been easy. Hard things about this month:
1. Someone’s been sick since the children got out of school. Daniel’s been very sick twice.
2. Never having any time to myself. I wonder how crazy I am going to be from sustaining this pace.
3. Finding a schedule and curriculum that make me feel like my children are learning and moving, not just sitting around playing the Wii all day while I tend a sick baby.
4. Losing my "alone" time with Margaret and teaching her the alphabet.
5. Losing my "quiet time" when Daniel takes a nap.

I never thought in a million years I would home school my children. Many days, I sit there and think, “What has brought me to this?” Wow, I’m such a square peg in a round hole…

Belonging

I think my life is unusual. We live in a foreign country with six children, in a city with over ten million people (Wikipedia lists our city as the second largest in the world). I wouldn’t even call it a city; it is more like a nation in one place. We live in a three bedroom apartment with two bathrooms. Finding American products is often a challenge, but thanks to my mom it’s not impossible. My children have been going to the foreign school for the last two years since we moved here. The school is a lovely place with wonderful facilities and a great support system of other expats in similar temporary circumstances. It is a private school with funding that supports the arts and extracurricular activities. The school is impressive and I like it, but it’s not “me”. A few weeks ago, when my ten year old daughter came to me and asked me if she could go to the public Korean school in our town, I listened with an open mind. This wasn’t the first time that she had mentioned it, but this is the first time I entertained the idea. As the idea grew from a seedling into a tender tree, I began to embrace the sensible, practical thought of my child going to school with those who truly belong to the Korean community; a community that I have grown to respect, and a community that I have belonged to without really belonging. As this idea took root, I was inspired by a bit of adventure. Why not let my children really “see” this country in which we have been living? What could possibly be more educational?
On January 22, I walked over to the beautiful grounds of the foreign school and with a giant leap of faith into a dark unknown, I withdrew all of my children from the school and enrolled them in the public school for one year. It is the scariest thing I have ever done. I hugged my children, all of whom had bewildered looks on their faces and through teary eyes, I said, “Let’s have an adventure!”
(highlights from our years at SFS)