Baby, We Were Born to Run

Love Comes Tumbling

Everybody's Crazy 'Bout a Sharp-Dressed Man

Sigh. He really is going to go and grow up on me.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

Some of you may have been wondering where the Hillmans have gone. Have they, like the Seavers, been sent to that special place where all good families go--the kind of place where all life's problems are solved in less than 30 minutes (OK, really big problems require 60 minutes, as in "Join us for a very. special. episode..." Then you knew Mike had been drinking, Carol had been purging, or little what's-his-name had been stealing candy from the drugstore).


Thankfully, unlike the Seavers, the Hillmans have survived their growing pains (did you see what I did there, sneaking in that joke? ha ha) but are currently constrained by the forces of government regulation. Now, in addition to YouTube, all access to Blogger is now denied at home. You can see the consequences....


I can't post pictures and blog easily. I have to transfer pictures to a usb and then bring them to school and do the work there, which takes more time and planning than I gave to giving birth.


There is some sort of expectation here that I actually work at work. So now, for instance, while I'm very busy, I'm technically not working. And I don't get that much school work done at home, so doing my computer playing and work and no work at home apparently has consequences.


I do have some pictures of Cameron's graduation dance, Noah's track meet, and Ava's gymnastics test on Facebook. Sign up and I'll make you my friend, no questions asked. I'm easy that way. And I'll try to get some of those here, too. Eventually.

Dragon Boat Festival

This weekend marks China's Dragon Boat Festival. Like some other holidays, the connection between the events and the traditions is a bit muddy, but the Chinese are nothing if not celebratory and traditional, so if you have to stretch to make a party happen, then so be it.

Together with Chinese New Year and the Autumn Festival, they are the three major Chinese celebrations--Dragon Boat is celebrated on the 5th day of the 5th lunar month. The celebration began as an event designed to ward off the evil spirits that brought disease and to find peace (in China's very tropical summer climate, diseases can be rampant).

The holiday is also said to commemorate the death of the poet Qu Yuan who died in 278 BC. Qu was a descendant of the Chu royal family, but when the king decided to ally himself with the increasingly powerful Qin family, Qu was banished for opposing the alliance.

During his exile Qu Yuan wrote a great deal of poetry, for which he's now remembered. When Qin finally conquered the Chu capital 28 years later, Qu Yuan committed suicide by drowing himself in the river.

The local people who admired the poet threw food into the river to feed the fish so that they would not eat Qu Yuan's body. The traditional snack zongzi is wha the people supposedly threw to the fish. The people then paddled out to in boats to retrieve Qu Yuan's body, which is the origin of dragon boat racing.

It's such a Chinese story, no? Conquering warriors, exiled poets, passionate suicides, evil spirits...and glutinous rice. I need to point out that the key word when it comes to zongi is "glutinous". The very sticky rice surrounds a filling of egg, sweet potato, meat, or bean paste. The rice is then wrapped in a bamboo leaf. There are several holiday treats that sound charming (read here about mooncakes) that sound charming, but are less so when you're trying to get it down. Kind of like lutefisk, I think.

The family vetoed traveling out of town this weekend. We are hiking the Great Wall with several other families on Thursday--I'll have to beat the other Hillmans with a stick if necessary to get out and see if we can see some boat races in town somewhere.

Eat Your Heart Out, ColdPlay--and THIS is a TEACHER.

I am one of those few who really despise the book "The Bridge to Terabithia." I also didn't care at all for the movie, but I do love the scenes with the teacher singing with the students. They all think she's crazy, standing up there with her guitar, but as the year goes on, they respond to her and to the songs that obviously resonate with them. Her relationship with them and with Jess in particular is a testament to the power of a good teacher in a child's life.

"Viva la Vida" is our family's anthem. Noah picked it up and it's played several times a day and so it's one of the few newer songs that I know all the words to.

I love this video. Aside from the little American Idol wannabes (which slay me) what gets me is the passion and joy on EVERY.SINGLE.KID'S.FACE. As the video goes on, though, I noticed something. Watch the kids' eyes as they follow their teacher's every move. They are completely connected to him. He's never on camera, but he's put a bunch of kids in an auditorium and done nothing except sing. Except he's done so much more. He's TEACHING.

Research proves repeatedly that the most important factor in a child's education is the quality of the teacher. Studies have taken children from a classroom and evaluated them for 2 years--one group with teachers chronically ranked as unsatisfactory and one with teachers ranked very good. At the end of 3rd grade, the average ranking of the students was at the 50th percentile. After two years, the students who got the good teachers were at the 85th percentile. Those who got the unsatisfactory teachers were at the 39th percentile. The division and class assignments were random, everyone in the same school, the same district, the same curriculum.

Snarky, Whiny, Ungrateful, and Possibly a Bit Un-PC...all in One Package!

It's May...and anyone who is a teacher knows that nothing but work can be accomplished in May. May is a neverending push of paperwork, meetings, and events, set amongst itchy, scratchy children who only want to play outside. It's always a slog, so maybe that's what's causing my current pettiness.

But first, a bit of backstory...before we moved to Tanzania, I read Memoirs of a Geisha. Aside from being very surprised and duly impressed that a man had captured the emotions and conflicts of the female characters so well, I had...issues. I strongly proclaimed my feelings to my friend Ann and said, to wit: "I hated this book. I just didn't get it. I didn't get the shame and the honor bit. And the whole geisha thing--what is up with that? All the time I was reading the book, I realize I really only like Asian food. I'm not very interested in the music I've heard or the art I've seen and I just realized now that I've read this book I realized that I'm so less than interested in learning anything more."

I may have proclaimed this at a book club, in which case my fellow readers are probably still suffering post-traumatic distress over my candor. I don't usually speak in so many italics.

...and yes...aside from the almost unforgiveable offense of uttering aloud a preference (or lack thereof) for a specific aspect of a culture, I realize that I have indeed lumped everyone from Japan to China to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Malaysia, and Singapore under the category of "Asian." And that that I probably left off someone from that list, so now I'm continuing to offend...

What can I say? Somewhere in us I think we have a predilection for some things over others. Blondes over brunettes. Classical over rock. Long before I ever dreamed I'd ever go to Africa, the images evoked feelings in me that say, Russia, didn't. Another friend is so passionate about things Arabic, but is lukewarm about the Spanish influence. Somewhere along the line I realized that any place in Asia would not make my top 10 list of places I wanted to see. There was no specific reason and whenever I've examined my thoughts and feelings, I can't point to any specific event or moment that makes me feel more interested in one type of culture or region of the world than another.

The irony is not lost on my, by the way. When we were looking for jobs, we knew we were likely to end up in Asia--and now that I'm here, there's a slowly growing realization that what I really liked was Chinese-American food. And Thai food. Did you know that rice is always served at the end of the meal here? It's to fill you up in case you didn't get enough, so ordering rice if someone else is paying or asking for it at a home can be considered very rude, a comment on how you weren't fed well enough by your hosts. All I'm saying is that it's hard to eat a massive bowl of gung-bao chicken without it, that's all. That's not the rule in Thailand, where you get your rice with your other stuff. Thai food really is the best in the world.

And I am profoundly grateful to have this opportunity to live in this part of the world. It's fascinating to see politics and economics and environmentalism be splashed over the news day after day and live in China, which plays such a crucial (and often overlooked) role in the world.

All of this brings me to my whinge...we have a 4 day weekend coming up--and I really don't want to go anywhere. Any place, even somewhere close--it's too expensive, too complicated, too iffy. What's there to see--more temples and pagodas? sigh Calandria just got back from Spain. I want to go to Spain. Karen just got back from Cancun and is going to Peru later this year. Why can't I go there? Our head of school just accepted a job in Belgium...I've never been to Europe.

Poor me, I know. Am I really so ungrateful? Is it that those other places have always been on my list of places I'd like to visit, and so I'd pine over them regardless of where I was? Did I suddenly become less adventurous on this side of the world--or was my adventursome-ness in Tanzania an aberration? Am I just wickedly lazy and ethnocentric? Or am I just in a funk?

P.S. You also don't get eggrolls or fortune cookies here. Then, again, you don't get donkey penis or blood soup with bullfrog at Leeann Chin's in Bloomington.

I'm Just Sayin'

You know swine flu's comin' to China. Here's to washing your hands A LOT! And keep your sniffling snorting hacking self at home, please!

Because I do NOT want to wear those silly face masks.

Things Overheard at School...

...once I had to fly coach all the way to the States. It was awful...

...my missing homework? Didn't you get it? I had my driver drop it off outside the classroom...

...don't you hate having to sit in the VIP boxes at stuff like the Olympics and the Hong Kong Sevens?

...can I use the phone? I remembered I don't like the school lunch today and I want to have my ayi cook me something else and deliver it to me...

...my missing homework? In my bag? I dunno...my ayi/grandmother/mother packs my bag. I guess she forgot it...I don't really know about that...

...how come when I google your dad, he's the 6th or 7th one on the list? My dad's number two...

...I think I'm going to Europe this summer. We went to Brazil, Thailand, and Switzerland already...

...ooooh, I love that hotel. The last time we were there we had our own butler guy!...

PS. I work at an elementary school.

To be fair, there are a few of those comments that do grate on me...it drives me nuts when kids have no idea where anything is because an ayi or grandmother is doing everything for the kids. In fact, in an expat magazine a month or so ago, a teacher bemoaned the fact that one of her students was having trouble with the whole toilet routine and the mother wanted to know what time she should send the ayi in to take care of that for the little tyke. Seriously. We do have ayis that will sit the entire lunch hour Every. Single. Day watching a 3rd or 4th grader eating and then playing. They bring his/her lunch, then collect it at the end so they don't have to carry a lunch box. I mean, honestly. That is completely ridiculous.

On the other hand, it generally humorous to listen to 10 year old bemoan flying coach. I do hope their parents are instilling values such as humility and a grateful heart for those things they have in their lives that are completely not of their own doing. I don't fault them at all for lives that are so different from mine and my own. Believe me, if I could fly business or first class and stay at the kind of hotel that would net me my own butler, I don't know that you'd see me turning it down for a cold water room with a squattie at the end of the hall! Compared to how Mark and I grew up, the trips that we have taken have been luxurious--not just in the locations, but the amenities. We are definitely aware of how blessed we are--and our children are as well (despite having an eye sometimes on what their friends are doing).

On the other (third?) hand, Mark took Cameron and his friends hiking on the Great Wall for his birthday. Another friend organized relay games in the street in front of his house. We took Noah and his friends bowling, then handed out light sabers and turned 'em loose. Every child in every case said that those were the best parties they had ever been to. And we're stacking those against a party Ava's friend went to (the birthday child was in kindergarden) where the parents rented a ballroom at a hotel and had petting animals, clowns, magicians, etc. We definitely know what works best for us and our family!

(but if I ever win the Powerball, I'm kissing coach goodbye)

More New Schools

Every year ISB has a Spring Fair. It is a HUGE event put on by the PTA to raise funds for various projects at school and to provide assistance for different charity organizations.


After last year's terrible earthquake in the Sichuan region, ISB decided to partner with the Zhejiang Xinhua Compassion Education Foundation to raise funds to rebuild Zhong Xin Elementary, a school for 1300 children. Who'd've thought? Mark moved from building a school in Africa to building a school in China! Although this time his role will not be supervising the construction site; he and his communications team have been planning and coordinating the fundraising, marketing, and promotion for the project.

Thanks to the hard work of hundreds of volunteers and the generosity of the school community, the Spring Fair was a success! The elementary school alone raised almost $5,000 from children donating their pocket money. Some $11,000 was raised on raffle tickets--where approximately $130,000 in prizes was up for grabs (we won an iPod shuffle, the very first thing I've ever won in my life, thank you very much!) and the silent auction (with online bidding) was another huge money maker--$18,000!

The Spring Fair featured a 5K run, bands, food, vendors selling crafts, jewelry, and art. Each elementary class ran a games booth and children could be tickets to play. There were high school rock bands and jazz bands. Thousands of people attended and had a great time on a sunny day with blue skies.


One of the biggest contributions came through Mark's meetings with Caterpillar and their generosity. In these kinds of economic times, it's often giving that is the first to go. Thanks to Caterpillar's $100,000 gift, ISB will meet its goal and 1,300 children will have a new elementary school!

Intel China has also worked with Mark's team so that the school will have fully functioning e-classrooms and teacher training to support the students and the technology!

Living in the 'burbs of Beijing, it's easy to forget what life is like in small villages, rural areas, and pockets of large cities. This is a country of astonishing wealth, and abject poverty. The Sichuan earthquake is like so many other natural disasters--all-consuming when it happens, but then it fades from the world's memory as other tragedies take their place on the world stage. I am looking forward to visiting this new school someday and seeing the work that is being done. It was great to be a part of a project like this again!

Easter Abroad

There's nothing like living abroad to make you examine your own traditions and beliefs, is there? Here in Beijing, for example, Noah had a birthday party and Cameron had an ultimate frisbee tournament, both scheduled for Sunday afternoon. Since we could all be at church together and were spending the rest of the afternoon stuffing ourselves silly, we let them go. But the idea that anything like that was scheduled on Easter Sunday was strange.



We couldn't find egg dying kits and without all the hoopla around Easter, actually kind of forgot about egg dying anyway until the 11th hour. There were plenty of little chocolate eggs and bunnies, thanks to the large number of expats here; the Easter bunny was very resourceful in finding some colorful cereal bowls in the cupboard to use as baskets.


That was strange for me. One of the things I've always enjoyed doing was those kinds of traditions. Trust me, I am NOT the mom that does anything fancy or over the top--but I think whatever we put together is always a lot of fun. In Tanzania, everything was very haphazard--if people remembered or had something we did it; otherwise, not. People were much less tied to their own country or cultural traditions. And that was OK, because the things that are important about holidays, especially Christmas and Easter, are more prominent. But here I definitely feel a more "we're Americans/Kiwis/Aussies/Danes who happen to be living in China for awhile" and people are more focused on those cultural traditions. So now I feel like I've shortchanged the kidlets in some way--they don't get a good old American Easter tradition, AND they don't have a meaningful context around them for the "real" Easter season.


Which brings me to Easter. As Lutherans (all our lives) we have had liturgical services. I have found a great comfort in reciting the liturgy on Sundays--I suppose it's like a mantra in some ways--the familiarity of the words and the rhythm slows me down and refocuses my thoughts on their meaning. Easter was trumpets and Martin Luther hymns (at least 1). Most of all, I always remember the sense of J.O.Y flowing out. Gone was the darkness and somber mood of Lent. There was always a strong sense of things being made new again, of hope, and life. I loved Easter Sunday for that feeling.

Our non-denominational church (the one we attend for a variety of reasons) doesn't have Lent. I don't know why--someone told me it's because Lent isn't a Biblical concept and so they don't include man-made seasons, but I don't know. What I do know is that I spent the 40 days before Easter with no recognition of Easter coming, no mention of the pain and sacrifice that Christ endured, no period of sober reflection. The music was the same as every other Sunday--praise music that is orchestrated to elicit an emotional response, which seems to be the driving force of these kinds of churches. The prayers, the music, the message--all focus on praising God, on how God is good, how God endures forever. I firmly believe all of that, but sometimes I get tired of music that is strategically repeated to elicit emotions, of prayers that repeatedly iterate, "God, we love you, we praise you."

Easter Sunday was no different--many of the same songs, similar prayers, and a sermon that mentioned the Resurrection in passing. I felt none of the joy and lightness after reflecting on sin and sacrifice during Lent. A praise service that felt ordinary, rather than extraordinary. I was left limp, really.

There are some things that I do like about non-denominational churches, but there are several reasons why we would attend this type of church overseas, but probably wouldn't at home. But I so miss my church in Arusha and in Minneapolis. Dare I say it? I'm bored on Sundays often...singing praise songs for 45 minutes just makes me wonder when the "real" church is going to start. I missed the time of being reminded of the conditions that brought Christ to the cross, of my own needs and shortcomings, followed by the wonderful knowledge of salvation. I am not finding this church meets my spiritual needs in many ways.

I don't know if I need to get over myself, or become more disciplined in commiting to the transition to a new way of doing things. We have made good friends and are settled in, really. It's just missing something...and I missed that on Easter.

Don't Get Behind the Chinese in the Salad Bar Line

Don't worry. This is not about spitting, or peeing, or anything else that would put you off salad, or eating in China.

One thing the Chinese do well and pay attention to is food presentation. Everything is arranged and laid out very neatly. Even our ayi arranges our dinners to look like the ones on the left. We have "eaten" (I use that term rather loosely, because really it was inedible) food arranged to look like a pagoda (it was called barbecue pork, but it was barbecued fat), fried rice molded in the shape of a fish, and artfully stacked broccoli. Even food that I would definitely not eat (frog parts, things made with or out of blood, penises, and yes, that is NOT a typo) is cleverly arranged.

I found out today that it's not limited to things you pay for or people you pay. As I stood in the line for the salad bar (noticing my clothes slowly go out of style) I watched one of the Chinese workers assemble her salad. First of all, the plates are ridiculously small, at least by Western standards. The small plate is something I often refer to as a saucer, while the large plate is...well, less than large. At first I thought that the plate size was making her be careful--building your salad vertically, after all, does take some time. But no, she was arranging her salad. After making sure the lettuce was mounded in the center, she put individual cucumber slices around the edge, slightly overlapping. Next came slices of boiled egg, also in neat circles. Cherry tomatoes? Not a problem. Each one was placed in just the right spot to be cradled by a piece of lettuce, never daring to roll off. A small dollop of dressing. The final coup de grace was a sprinkling of sunflower seeds that magically onlylanded on the dressing, not on the lettuce or the rest of the plate.

This isn't the first time. A couple weeks ago, the sushi guy made a complete new roll because the one he tried to cut the slices from got squashed and so the bites were not perfectly circular. This is the school cafeteria, remember, not some posh Japanese bistro.

OK, I admit it. I was irritated both times. I was hungry, and salad is one of the foods I don't mind slopping all together. My food doesn't have to be symmetrical to be edible. But then I thought about her salad. Was it kind of a Zen thing, a means of slowing down to get ready to eat? A patience about doing things aesthetically? An acknowledgement that she is worthy of a meal that is nutritious and beautiful? An extension of a culture that is very patient and meticulous in so many other areas? Whatever the reason, I think I somehow missed out on something. We always exclaim at Ayi's food--last night's fajitas were very festive--slices of red and green peppers were arranged in a sunburst pattern, sprinkled with cilantro. The other vegetables and fruits were also arranged, not just piled on the plate. I admit it--it is fun to sit down to a meal that looks nice. People do notice.

Rats. Suddenly this is threatening to turn into one of those self-reflective things. It is possible that I could improve in this area, if not in my own personal salad bar forays, then in what goes on the table for my family on the nights it's not arranged by Ayi. It doesn't have to be at a fancy restaurant or a special occasion.

And who knows? Maybe a creative flair will dazzle that night's designated whiner (Are those onions? What's in this sauce? What's the smallest amount I have to take?) into more eating and less fussing!

Teaching in the World of Tomorrow, Today

Note: The very cool video that goes at the bottom of this post may not be working. It shows up on my work computer, but not on my home computer. Let me know if you can watch it.


One of the things that is hard to hear as a teacher is "When I was in school..." I think often education is something that everyone experienced for themselves and so they have an opinion or impression of how it should go, without a true understanding of the nature of teaching and education, either in practice or pedagogy. I don't think people often berate their CPAs or attorneys or doctors about how to do their jobs better in the same way I often hear people talk about teachers. I think with the other professions there is an acknowledgement of the skill needed to do that particular job well. In teaching, I still often hear how it's not that hard, how teachers get breaks all the time during the day, how we're always on vacation, how it can't be that hard to read books aloud and teach addition. And then, I exercise unusual restraint and only upbraid them verbally, rather than risk assault charges by opening up a can of you-know-what on them.

The point being (and the following video says it well) that what you or I did in school whenever we were there is pretty irrelevant now. We are in the business of preparing students for jobs and a world we cannot begin to fathom. The rate of change today is exponential and mind-numbing in its speed. The skills and knowledge that are needed to survive today, let alone in 2025 (when Ava will graduate from college) are likely not even known to us today. For a long time it was all about technology, which continues to be more and more integral to learning; but more and more, it's about the hows: how to think, how to learn, how to navigate a global community. This graph shows the skills for 21st century education. Notice that there is nothing about No Child Left Behind, mandatory testing, or actual curriculum. Nor is there any information about special services (special education, ESL) or programs for those kids who are falling through the cracks--breakfasts, afterschool care, social services...all those things that are an inherent part of education, more so in some communities than others.

I used to marvel at my grandmother, who was born before the Wright brothers flew their first plane and watched men walk on the moon--what an amazing change! Now, I realize that the change we are living with is difficult to comprehend on a global scale. It's both amazing and frightening!

Family Value Meals--Food Snobs Stay Out!

On another blog, I ran across this article from the New York Times. Now, granted, it is the Times, and I understand that yes, there are people that live very differently than I do. People have different incomes, and different priorities. But I was a bit put out to say the least. An excerpt:

I HALF expected tuna casserole. That’s not to say I don’t attribute extraordinary culinary prowess to my colleagues and dear friends...But less than $8.50 a person for a full dinner? I didn’t see how this budget allowed for much strutting, not even from home cooks as gifted and resourceful as these two kitchen goddesses.

So. I don't like tuna casserole, but I don't feel it needs to be (metaphorically) thrown back in my face. And what does a "full dinner" mean? And am I showing my ignorance by asking that question? I would imagine it might include hors d'oeurves, salad or soup, and dinner, maybe dessert. And $8.50 per person for dinner? Read on:

Both Kim and Julia realized that the best way to disguise a limit and leave guests feeling pampered was to present a long sequence of treats. At both dinners there were more than three courses, if you counted canapés, and the diversity obscured the absence of any great

luxury at the center of the meal.

The only was for me to "disguise a limit" would be if I wore a bag over my head and shopped midnight, away from those discerning eyes that would be averted in horror at my coupon envelope, the shocking display of me reading labels and comparing prices, or the ultimate affrontry of bulk shopping. Apparently, it's also very important to keep up appearances, by leading people to believe that I live a champagne and caviar lifestyle and hiding any evidence to the contrary.

I guess my bulk chicken breasts and off-brand cereal give me away.

The carnitas was Kim’s answer to the central budget-meal challenge: what to do about the meat. Kim cooked, seasoned and served her pork in a way that rendered the quality of the low-cost cut almost irrelevant.

"Low-cost cut". That describes my meat, my haircuts, my clothing, my whole life. I guarantee you if you come to my house and I don't have to address you as "Your Highness" or "Mr. President" you're probably getting a budget cut of something. Or, maybe I'd really go bargain basement and serve a pasta. Heaven forbid.

I love (metaphorically speaking) this writer's "budget-meal challenge", though. Let me tell you what a challenge is, and it won't be serving a meal for $8.50. On a rough estimate my family eats 15 meals per day (5 people x 3 meals). Over a month that equates to 450 meals in a month. My grocery bill is about $800 per month. That works out to a whoppingly extravagent $1.77 per person per meal. SUCK ON THAT, FOOD SNOB. On that budget, I manage to serve tacos, fajitas, fettucini, spaghetti, homemade pizza, fantastic parmesan breaded chicken, Cantonese pork tenderloin, and Swedish meatballs. I somehow manage to get vegetables and fruit on the table, as well as cereal, bagels, and muffins every morning. I can even make taco soup, something that everyone raves about and asks to have the recipe. AND, get this--I'm not a great cook! Yet somehow my children don't have rickets, or scurvey, or kwashiakor.

They don't know truffle oil from motor oil. They express a preference for neon-colored macaroni and cheese. They seem more drawn to iceberg lettuce and chicken nuggets than arugala and ceviche.

I just didn't care for the snarky amazement. I would bet it's a lot more than half of the people when we talk about the "other half." What about all of you? What's your budget for your family size when it comes to food? Am I the only one who takes lower cuts of meat? Am I the only one who is just now realizing that I never thought of it as a "lower" cut but as "affordable dinner"?

Um...I have to Admit...

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

First of all, I'm not Catholic, so I wouldn't really know what to do in an actual confessional. I am, however, a darn decent Lutheran (don'tcha know), which counts for A LOT.

Anyhoodle.

I confess I like going places where lots of people speak English. Like cabdrivers. And waiters. But saying that may be a desperate attempt to mask the slowly dawning realization that I'm NEVER going to learn Chinese.

I confess also that I like going places where people use the same letters we do in America. I suspect that if that were true in China, the odds of me learning it would dramatically improve.

I confess I really really really love warm weather. And I'm discovering that I even love very humid warm weather. As I was standing at a cocktail party last night, clutching a practically perfect G&T (no skimping on the G part--AND it was free. As was the one before that.) I stock stock of myself. I was hot, sweaty, and a bit disheveled, all from walking 200 yards to said cocktail party. My clothes were sticking to me and the humidity could only be described as oppressive (Malaysia could jump on the ceiling fan bandwagon. I'm just sayin'), and then I thought of Beijing. Cold, gray, square, smelly Beijing (everywhere I go in this hotel, everything smells like frangipani, ginger, and citronella--it's heavenly). And I thought...I've changed. My kvetching about weather is well-documented, and I've always felt I was not a humidity person, but given the humidity vs. the cold, I would choose hot and sweaty.

I confess I had more than 2 G&Ts that night.

I confess that when it's this hot, I might drink them for breakfast.

I confess to loving to eat dinner food for breakfast, and by extension loving places that serve dinner for breakfast. So I confess that I ate curry prawns for breakfast this morning.

I confess that confessing out loud is possibly kind of cathartic. Maybe I should open catharticconfessions.com or something. Maybe that's my new theme!

I confess to calling the front desk last night asking if I could get American Idol on my TV. And then asking them to check the 5 bars around the place to see if any of those TVs might get that channel.

I confess that that confession is the most embarrassing.

Wow...I feel better already! Anyone else have anything they want to get off their chests?

SO Not Innocent.

OK, I’ve already gone out on a limb with my opinions about Mama Mia (to repeat: despite Meryl Streep and delightfully bouncy music, one of the WORST movies I’ve ever seen and don’t comment on that to me because that ship has sailed), so I have few reservations about expressing my opinions about the move Twilight. Notice that I did not say “the book” which I haven’t read and probably won’t get around to it (another ship that has sailed). I knew the general premise of the book, and I knew that one of the big draws was the “romantic and chaste” relationship between Edward and Bella. The secondary draw, I presume, is the idea of forbidden love, of him wanting to protect her, of her being drawn to a family and life that she can’t realistically be a part of.

And here’s where the problems start. I’ve heard it compared to Romeo and Juliet, a romantic story of forbidden/denied love. I wonder how many of those people who make those comparisons remember that THEY DIED. HORRIBLY. They were not victims of unrequited love so much as of impulsive adolescence, of impetuosity, of a failure to think of the “what ifs” in life. Obviously, R and J is far more complex and it is unfair to reduce a masterpiece to such a simplistic explanation, but I saw many of the same behaviors in the movie. How quickly Bella is willing to give herself to Edward. How ardently she claims to want to be a part of his world. How she “just knows” they are destined to be together forever. A love for the ages—or reckless impulsivity?

And as for chaste—HOLY HELL. I found very little about that movie to be chaste or innocent. Many of their tender moments take place lying down. Together. On a bed. Alone, because her father seems to have beer and gun cleaning on his mind and a misplaced assurance that his daughter is mature enough to manage her own life independently. Over and over Edward claims to restrain himself so he doesn’t hurt Bella. The recurring theme between them seems to be “how far can we go before we go too far?” You sure don’t need to date a vampire to know that playing against that line is a recipe for danger. How many teens play that game—with drinking, or drugs, or with relationships with the opposite sex, “knowing” they are in control, “trusting” someone because they “know” that other person loves them.

I’m sorry, but this is not a movie my daughter would be seeing anytime soon. This is one of those movies (and books) that are pitched to the young adults but are being read and watched by 5th graders. It’s simply way out of line. And for those young adult girls—those girls (read: 99.9% of them) who want, romance, want to be taken care of and protected, to be wanted—what message does it send? That it’s romantic to repeatedly place yourself in a position of vulnerability, to test the waters over and over to see how close you can get that forbidden zone and still be safe? That is one dangerous message.

I suppose that the visual spin the movie puts on the story may be different from the book. That would certainly be the explanation for her acting skills (which seem to primarily consist of very little affect—she’s more dismal than the vampires—and a fluttering of the lips as if she’s trying to search for the right word—which is employed during passion, fear, uncertainty, or ordering at a restaurant. In fact, everything about the movie was dismal—I understand Forks gets a lot of rain, but even if you’ve been alive for a hundred years, you can’t find anything to crack a smile about?

I’m taking a pass on any more of this series. Am I being a little over-Amish or something? I mean, I am the person who lets her 10 year old (ok, fine, he was 8) watch Lord of the Rings. And X-Men. So sometimes I surprise myself by how some things really alarm me. Maybe it's that one is fantasy and this is a thinly veiled metaphor for hot teen sex. I don't know.

A Hillman Retrospective

For no other reason than I am madly in love with these people.

What the Heck?!

After reading those last 2 posts, can ANYONE doubt that this is blog desperately in search of a theme?

Help!

Puberty is Much Better the 2nd Time Around

Warning: Anatomical puberty vocabulary coming up!

A couple classes (grade 5) are wrapping up their puberty unit this week. It's a very gentle introduction to body parts and changes and presented very well.

Today one class had to complete the final page in which they wrote definitions for the terms they had learned. I learned a penis is "like an organ or your liver." It can also be termed "the boy part." Sperm are "little specks inside a boy" or "the bits that sometimes come out." An erection is "when a boy tests out the sperm." Breasts are "the front of a girl" or simply "girl parts". Something that I didn't know (and boy am I glad I know this now) is that a vagina is "the cleanest part of a woman's body." Needless to say it was very hard to review the worksheets with a straight face. Thankfully, any misconceptions were easily cleared by uttering that timeworn phrase "Is that the definition from the chapter?"

It only got more fun when the teacher asked them to combine their poetry lesson with their newfound knowledge and write some puberty poems. They were encouraged to use hyperbole, alliteration, onomotopoeia, and metaphors for effect. Now, writing is a BIG deal here...and these kids know how to write. They were funny, enthusiastic, prolific and really pretty at ease with the task, with several offering to share their limericks about BO or a particularly well-written cinquain on zits.

I just never thought I'd hear "I don't know what rhymes with penis" in a classroom.

I suggested "genius." With all sincerity.

Trust.

Friends we have just met are leaving Beijing this summer under circumstances we are very familiar with, as they are very similar to the situation we found ourselves in when we made the decision to leave Tanzania. They will be heading back to the States--they have no job as yet, no house, no car, no idea where they are going to go to start the next phase of their lives. I am feeling (selfishly) sad because I really like her and her family and I think we would have become very good friends. She is one person that I felt I really connected with here.

When we made the decision to leave Tanzania, we did so not knowing what we were going to do. We didn't want to return to the States, and we had passed the optimum time for Mark to look for work. Our house was rented out and we didn't have a car. It was a very frightening time, thinking of a very unkown future. Then, ISB sent an unsolicited email. Another round of uncertainties ensued as Mark worked through the interview process. It was the only contact for a job that we received, a job that also had a job for me. It was a blessing.

We have met some more new friends here from all walks of life. Missionary kids who grew up overseas, people who have suffered neglect, dysfunction, and pain in their lives. Some were raised as Christians, others fell away and then have returned. What we all have in common is a set of experiences that have led us to our spouses, to jobs, to opportunities that brought us to a place in time. I guess they could be called serendipitous, or coincidence, but those words fall flat in the face of the stories I've heard. How else to explain how doors have opened, how obstacles have been overcome, how life has evolved?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

I wish I listened to this verse more. I have been reminded again and again that I have never been promised an easy life, a life free from hardship or pain. I have been promised a path through difficult times. I have been promised that I will not be forgotten during those times. I have been promised a way that will bring blessings and joy and peace--if I can let go and simply lean on God, rather than relying on my own imperfect way.

I know my new friend will not have an easy time these next few months. I know that she wishes with all her heart that there was a different, easier path. I know she also knows that it's OK to be angry and sad and scared and that it's possible to feel all those things and still trust God to show her the way. I know because I've been there. I know because in those times when I had nothing to fall back on, I realized that "nothing" was whatever I could muster on my own. I have always had "something", and that something has been far far greater than what I can do on my own. I'm a poor witness those those that would snort or say "Well, that's all well and good for her to think that way..." I'm a poor study as well--I struggle with daily, even after the things I have heard and experienced. I suspect it does not come easily to most people, this idea of letting go. I am amazed and humbled when I hear stories of events that should not have happened, of situations that should have been devastating. I have no other explanation--it is the hand of God and His love that guides us along the way.