Death of a four year old student

Just before Christmas,  a 4 year old student of mine (from my "Hoppy Palace" paying-job as an English tutor)... a beautiful, bright Chinese little girl who knew an amazing amount of English already .... died.  Just died.

We had been restarting the "Letter of the Week" Alphabet vocabulary games, and she was there for the letters A and B, and when we got to the letter C she was gone.

"Nova has gone up to... gone up to... God", her six year old friend, Samuel,  from the same small "Oral English" class reported to me, struggling to communicate in his limited English.

I thought maybe he meant she was at the hospital on the hill.

Or, I hoped, maybe he meant that she had moved away.

Or started at a different, higher class tutoring school.

No, she had died. Apparently an infection had traveled to her heart, and stopped it.

It was a week after her 4th birthday, which was on December first.

The memorial services were held just last week.  I attended together with Sandy, the receptionist from the "Hoppy Palace", who had seen Nova as often as I had (once a week, nearly every week, for nearly two years).

We clung to each other -- I clung to Sandy because I had little idea what to expect at a Hong Kong funeral.  I didn't know what faith (if any) Nova's family had.  I was not worried about Nova... I know that six year old Samuel was right, she is with God because of Jesus' clear promise that the kingdom of heaven belongs to children.  

But I was worried about Nova's parents.  I had been told that many times, Chinese parents will not attend the funerals of their children, and in fact, will condemn themselves for having done something wrong in order to merit this untimely death. 

Sandy clung to me because she had been to the same funeral parlour for the funeral of her grandfather, and the memories were frightening. Also, according to her traditional Chinese beliefs, it's unlucky to see the body of the deceased.  "I'm not going into the room with the body," she said to me.

The funeral was on a Friday night.  We met at the MTR station and took a taxi to the imposing looking high-rise funeral parlour, where funerals were taking place on a number of different floors.  We weren't sure where to go at first, and found ourselves getting off at one wrong floor, then another.  I only caught glimpses of the goings-on -- wailing, gonging, large paper constructions of homes, cars, even rather macabre (to me) paper people, which were about to be burned as an offering for the dead (if I understand this correctly).

Finally we found the correct room for Nova's memorial service, and I wept tears of sadness, but also relief, as I caught sight of a beautiful, enlarged photo of her, with a cross placed in front of it.

Nova's family was Christian.  Her mother and father were very much present, and greeted us warmly as we bowed towards the photo, in a traditional sign of respect.

Soon after we arrived, the service began.  As far as I could see, I was the only westerner present among the hundreds of participants. A pastor prayed.  Scripture was read. A poignant collage of video clips from Nova's brief life was played.  Nova's father spoke. The pastor spoke.  And a church choir, including a dozen adults and four or five small children, just Nova's own age, led us in singing several songs in Cantonese and then an old, familiar one to me, in English, a song  I remember singing at dawn on many Easter mornings:

Sing Alleluia to the Lord!/ Sing alleluia to the Lord! Sing alleluia, sing alleluia, sing alleluia to the Lord.
Jesus is risen from the dead. Jesus is risen from the dead.  Jesus is risen, Jesus is risen, Jesus is risen from the dead.
Jesus is King and Lord of all.  Jesus is King and Lord of all.  Jesus is King, Jesus is King, Jesus is King and Lord of all.


The memorial service was a worship service, to honor the God who had created Nova, to honor Nova's brief, beautiful life, to repeat the hope that we Christians dare to insist is the truth:

  "... I give them eternal life, so that they will never be lost. No one can snatch them out of my hand..."     -- Jesus    

                                                               (quoted in the Gospel of John, chapter 10, verse 28)

marked with the cross of Christ... forever.

No climbing

I'm feeling a little bit like this little boy at the Chi Lin (Buddhist) Nunnery... can you see the "no climbing" sign?

I was ready to "climb" into teaching a new course at the seminary... a class on Christian Saints... only to discover that not enough students have signed up for this particular class.

Is it because the class is scheduled for 8 a.m.? Is it because it's a course that doesn't meet any graduation requirements? Is it because Protestant students have already been trained to be utterly skeptical of "saints"?

Or is it because everybody in my last semester's course passed the word, "Whatever you do, do NOT take a course from this teacher..."  :)     :/
(pathetic smile, or grimace)

Did you know the Bible spends a whole chapter telling us to think about the lives of those who have gone before us as part of the great "cloud of witnesses" who surround us, and (I would say) cheer us on, like the support teams who stand along the side of the road, cheering on marathon runners?

Christian Saints include Mary, Peter, the Desert Fathers & Mothers, Augustine, Francis, and one of my personal favorites Teresa of Avila -- she who is famous for praying to God with such intimacy that she crisply told Him one day: "If this is the way you treat your friends, it's no wonder you have so few!"

Ok, thanks for indulging me in a posting of self-pity.  I'll report a bit about Wayne's classes soon (yes he has some amazing classes he's starting today, in pastoral care, and everybody is flocking to take those classes.  I'm very happy for him, I really am,  (more pathetic smiles and grimaces)  :)  :/

I, meanwhile, re-started my paying job at the Hoppy Palace Phonics Center yesterday (yes, my little students were thrilled to see me which did my pathetic ego some good) AND I get to start with the Lutheran school kids in two weeks, so I'm looking forward to that, too.

Blessings to YOU in your work and callings, with all of the ups and downs, and "no climbing" signs we all seem to endure.

  Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.   --  Hebrews 12:1

Monkeys, leaves, and long noses

My 51 year old body is still protesting from endless rounds of "Ten Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed"  during small group time with first graders at the Lutheran School this week.  I tried to teach them the story of Moses (we were on the letter M) with a picture Bible but... (remember, their English is VERY limited, and several of them have various special needs making it difficult for them to concentrate in ANY language)... and so in no time at all, I had Jenny Lo standing on the chair and Jackie Chu shoving Jackie Wu, and Yui Yui dismantling the plastic Christmas tree which was still occupying a corner of our little-used English room.  So I had to give up on Moses for the time being (sorry, Lord) and got them to participate in a very rousing round of "Ten Little Monkeys".  They were particularly good at the jumping part.  And the falling part.  And the shouting part.  All in all, a big success.

Doing crayon leaf rubbings (letter "L") with the second graders was also a pretty big hit.  Many of these children seem to have so little interaction with nature, living as they do in high rises surrounded by concrete covered hills and paved playgrounds.  So it was (I think... I'm never totally sure about these things) a real novelty for them to take real leaves, cover them,  and watch as patterns, shapes and veins emerged as they rubbed their crayons over the surface of the paper.

This almost made up for last week when I was teaching "N is for nose" to the younger, better educated children whose parents can afford to give them special English lessons at the Hoppy Palace.  Suddenly one of my gorgeous little four year olds looked at me in a fit of inspiration and said in a tone of absolute sincerity and wonder, "Your nose is so long.  Why is your nose so long?" And then she burst into a peal of laughter and pleasure at being able to express this new discovery so well.  I could only reply, "Honey, because that's how God made me."

We westerners DO have pretty long noses from an Asian perspective and she was only being honest.

"Be wise my child,
and bring joy to my heart."  -- Proverbs 27:11

Christmas with Snoopy?

Christmas carols were blaring over the sound system, and this was the scene at the local mall last night as Wayne and I finalized our little bit of Christmas shopping. First we thought it was Santa, but no, it was an exhibition of Snoopy for Christmas, and people eagerly posed their children for pictures with the old dog.

So what is Christmas all about, anyway?

I did a little exercise with my little four and five year olds at the Hoppy Palace English Tutoring Center this week,  asking the kids which Christmas cards were their favorites.  They picked out the sparkling snow scenes (even though... or maybe especially because few of them have ever seen real snow).   Another big winner was the jolly Santa card.

When I showed them the cards with the manger scene, and the one of Mary and Jesus, the general response was, "not Christmas card." 

I wonder how most kids in the world would answer… and I suspect maybe not all that differently.

 "Do you understand what you are[seeing]?" Philip asked.  "How can I," he said, "unless someone explains it to me?"  -- Acts 8:30b-31 (paraphrased)

Wayne & I love  getting to be part of telling  the real story of Christmas with the people of Hong Kong and China.

Ants, Apples & Advent

I have worked 26 weeks now at the Hoppy Palace Phonics Center here in Hong Kong.  I know this because we just started the letter "A" again, and once again I trudged out to find an ant (a nice large one) for my kids to examine.

Many little children in Hong Kong  have so little time to watch, wait, and wonder.

A recent article in the South China Morning Post reported that some anxious Hong Kong parents are enrolling their three year old children in two kindergarten programs at a time, hoping to give their kids an "edge" in the extremely competitive school systems.  Little ones are spending as much as ten hours a day in school.

In the Christian Church year, A is for Advent, and ancient tradition counsels us to watch and wait for the dawn of the new Creation: the birth, and one day the return, of Jesus the Christ.

So this week, before turning to the book work, the circling of letters and the phonics blending exercises, I spend some time with my little students, just watching the ant, as he eats his apple.  (A is for ant and A is for apple). I have cut fresh apple slices for my students, too, and we munch together, in our closet-sized classroom with its sterile, plastic furnishings.  This is not a Christian school where I am free to share the Bible stories, and I don't think many of my students know much about the real Christmas.  But now they have had a tiny taste of Advent, a time to slow down and  marvel at the intricacies of one of God's littlest creatures.


"Go to the ant... consider its ways and be wise!"  -- Proverbs 6:6

Shouts in the Hallway of the Hoppy Palace

So many happenings in such a short period of time, so check back soon as I plan on doing a few posts in a row.

 Here's a photo of the elegant frog I found outside our doorstep, who hopped away before I could get a really great shot of him.

News from the "Hoppy Palace Phonics Center" where I work 3 days a week to earn some extra income by tutoring mostly wealthy Chinese children, from the ages of 2 (or sometimes even less than 2!!!) to 7 or 8 years old.  They are mostly brought to their tutoring classes by their full time, live-in Indonesian or Philippino maids.  However, there is one kindergarten aged little girl, I'll call "Ling Ling" whose father has been depositing  her for phonics tutoring on Saturday afternoons.

I'd been having trouble with Ling Ling.  She looks at me with big eyes and will usually not say a word in English, but chatters away in Cantonese to the other students, disrupting my classes.  She scribbles all over her workbook, all over the whiteboard, all over the table, and all over the walls if I'm not quick enough to stop her.   She pinches the other students.  She grabs their colored pencils.  She hides under the table.

I found out that Ling Ling is a recent immigrant to Hong Kong from the mainland of China.  There is a lot of prejudice against "mainlanders", as they are known.  Although they are physically identical to the Hong Kong people, mainlanders tend to dress a little differently.  They seem a little poorer.  When someone  pushes to the front of the usually orderly lines to get into the Metro train -- it's often a "mainlander".  They are suspected of taking jobs from Hong Kong people, they are suspected of abusing the social and medical and housing services which Hong Kong provides its people.

I can't yet understand my students' Cantonese, but I suspect the other 5 students in the small room have been saying things to Ling Ling that she resents.

Her notebook cover and backpack are plain plastic ones, not decorated with Hello Kitty or Thomas the Train or Barbie, like the other children's.

Ok, so last Saturday I came up the elevator to the 19th floor of the Hoppy Palace, and I heard a man  ranting loudly, horribly, who knows what (in Cantonese).  The sound of the voice came from around the corner, but I soon found out it was exactly what I somehow feared -- Ling Ling's father storming at his five year old daughter, whose bright tear-stained angry eyes defied any of us witnesses - 3 or 4 Hoppy Palace staff --  to say a word.  And what word could I possibly say to a man who doesn't understand English, a man who is a recent immigrant, a man who is not as well-dressed as the other tutoring center clients, a man who desperately wants his 5 year old daughter to have the perceived advantage of tutoring by a real live Native English Teacher (me).

So I had more patience with her, this little Ling Ling.  And at the end of the hour I took her aside and gave her an extra candy.  "This is for you, Ling Ling."

What more could I do?

  "I cried like a swift or thrush,
       I moaned like a mourning dove.
       My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens.
       I am being threatened; Lord, come to my aid!"  -- Isaiah 38:14

New Doorways

I promise to take pictures next time I go, but meanwhile, let this photo (of Wayne in our neighborhood of Tai Wai) represent the new opening in my life here in Hong Kong.

This week I went twice to "my" new school -- the Ma On Shan Lutheran Primary School... once to meet the teachers, the second time to meet parents.

I found out that a significant percentage of the kids are from the Mainland of China and make the hour or so commute every morning by bus.

I will be going once a week (at first) to teach English studies and the Christian faith to six and seven year olds who may or may not have ever heard anything about Jesus before... and who may or may not know any English. This is not an ideal situation of course... I don't want them to associate Christianity with a nasty experience of English phonics and grammar... on the other hand, it's too good of an opportunity to pass up, and this is something which the local Evangelical Lutheran Church of Hong Kong has asked me to do. The schoolkids and their parents really want to study English, and this is a skill I can teach! So in addition to "A" is for apple and ant... our first lesson might include.... and God is the Creator of all things: alligators, asteroids, and Australia, too :)

Anyone know of a great version of the old hymn, "All Creatures of Our God and King, suitable for 6 & 7 year olds, which you'd care to recommend?

By the way, I did "M" is for monkeys, music, and Mozart with my 2 year olds at my "Hoppy Palace" English Phonics Centre job this week. You should have seen those two year old's playing "pretend pianos" to the Piano Sonata in C Major. Not the whole thing of course, but I'm not kidding these little Chinese kids quieted down and paid attention with their whole beings, as if there was a direct connection between the musical chords and their brain wiring. I was in awe. I must admit, they enjoyed jumping to that obnoxious "Three Monkeys Jumping on the Bed" song too.


"All Creatures of our God and King,
Lift up your voice with us and sing:
Alleluia! Alleluia!

O burning sun with golden beam
And silver moon with softer gleam:
O praise him! Oh praise him! Oh praise him!"

(hymn text: Francis of Assisi 1182-1226)

Perspectives from the Peak

This past week we went to The Peak (highest point in Hong Kong) with our German colleagues & their young family. We took the famous, 120 year old Peak Tram. Although it was a cloudy day, the perspectives, as you can see, were fantastic. It's fun exploring places with little ones. They make us slow down, and take notice of the turtles in the pond and the splashes of water from the fountains, how sturdy the cables of the tram really are (quite strong, dear, we'll be safe) and how quickly the clouds roll in the sky, painting the skyscrapers white, then gray.

For those of you who sent me English language children's picture books... just wanted you to know that they are a HUGE hit with my kids at the Hoppy Palace. It's amazing how good art and funny stories can transcend cultures. The youngest children can enjoy just the colors & the sounds of the words, the slightly older students love discovering new details in the pictures & actions of the stories.

Please ask all the Pray-ers you know to pray for the success (in God's eyes) of the Ma On Shan Lutheran Primary School... where I will be going for the first time on this next Monday afternoon to lead devotions for the staff! I've only met the principal so far, and he's just a lovely, older Chinese man. The school is quite small by Hong Kong standards and this is a pivotal year... there are new housing projects going up in the area and this school would be a natural place for folks to send their kids... and most of them will be families that have never heard the Gospel. However, the projects are not yet finished, and this year enrollment at the school is so low that there is a danger of the school closing before these new neighborhood kids even move in. So the idea is to have a superb English-language program at the school (which would make it a magnet school) to attract area kids and parents, who would then also get to hear the wonderful story of God's love for us through Jesus. I am in awe of the way in which God is using my "tent-making" experience... tutoring small children (from wealthy homes) at the "Hoppy Palace" English language center ... to train me for this "free" work in the Gospel with children from more modest backgrounds here in Hong Kong...

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -- spoken through the prophet Jeremiah ca. the year 628 BC !

kittens, lizards, mold: the letters K,L,and M

Next week's letter for my 2-6 year old's at the "Hoppy Palace" is the letter "L" so we are doing lambs and lions and... lizards maybe? This beauty was sunning himself near our home recently.

My work at the Hong Kong Hoppy Palace English Phonics Center is always interesting. My teacher's aid doesn't speak much English but she does the scheduling (and most of the talking to parents). This past week, she told me there would be a maximum of 6 kids in my two year old class (yes, you are reading it correctly, I have Chinese two year olds... and younger!... whose parents sign them up for hour-long sessions of intensive English lessons)... so I carefully prepared 7 sets of materials just in case... only to have 8 babies actually show up. I felt quite self-righteously indignant with my aid, & ran out through the little lobby in my stocking feet (no shoes allowed in the classrooms) to scramble for an 8th set of kittens with mittens (last week was the letter "K") and slipped and fell, splat, right on my rear end, which thankfully is ample enough to cushion the fall, but it still hurt. And yes, there were enough witnesses to hurt my sorry little ego as well.

Also, I had just recovered from my fall the previous week from the slippery green slime on the sidewalk in front of our house. Because of all the rain, heat & humidity, everything outside is covered with the most astonishing array of green molds . A few things inside too: I was horrified to open the closet in my office and find my black leather jacket covered in dusty rings of gray fungi.

Tropical molds provide a good parable I think, for the creeping sin of self-righteousness, and the slippery sin of a "better than thou" attitude.

So anyway, I'm grateful for my calcium-laden ice-cream habit which I'm sure helped me not to break any bones... I'm thankful for ibuprofen, which helps get me moving these last few mornings... and I'm indebted to Church tradition which leads my family & me through weekly confession of sins...

¹⁶ For I said, "Do not let them gloat
or exalt themselves over me when my feet slip."

¹⁷ For I am about to fall,
and my pain is ever with me.

¹⁸ I confess my iniquity;
I am troubled by my sin.

-- Psalm 38:16-18

More masks

I believe we are on the brink of finally selling our house back in the USA, and I'm trying to keep a healthy perspective, but it isn't easy. We've been waiting for the guy who's made a verbal offer to actually get it into the legal written form. It was supposed to be Friday, then Saturday, and now the latest word is... Monday morning...

So it's good that Saturday was busy... another trip to prison for our monthly Bible study there. Once again we had to wear those confounded masks. Angel was eager to hear how my month had gone. "I prayed for you every single day," he said. And I totally believe him.

Saturday afternoon was another "Hoppy Palace" day (my crazy supplemental job, teaching English phonics to Chinese babies and children). In case you haven't heard, the nursery & elementary schools in Hong Kong have been asked to close for two weeks because of the H1N1 flu concerns, but this doesn't seem to apply to after-school programs, so it was a busy busy afternoon. Singing "If You're Happy and You Know It" with a mask on is a very special challenge, especially when you're singing and jumping and clapping as you do so.

Let me tell you, the shower when I finally got home felt better than great.

When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, you cannot discover anything about your future. -- the Old Man Preacher of Ecclesiastes 7:14

Bugs for school

A couple of weeks ago we scrambled to find bugs for our son's science project.

He was supposed to bring 3 of them in for Biology. He found some small ones, put them in plastic containers, and left them outside (for an adolescent boy who usually makes fun of his mother's squeamishness, he's surprisingly concerned about the idea of them getting loose in his backpack). Next morning -- plastic containers are gone!! Did somebody pick them up thinking they were trash? Then we saw chewed up plastic containers in the yard. The dogs had gotten the bugs! (I told him this was his perfect opportunity to tell a teacher that "the dog ate my homework" but he was not amused)


The next night we both went on the hunt. It was surprisingly difficult to find anything. He got an ant and a mosquito. There we were, both of us hunting in the dark with flashlights looking for bug #3 (couldn't he have done this during daylight hours???) I find a huge slug. Will a slug work? No, I guess not. Finally, we locate a slim beetle with enormous antennae crawling on a window. We bring it inside. Son claims the jar lid is too loose, he needs to transfer it into a more secure jar (there's that fear of bugs crawling in his back pack again). I tell Husband it's his turn to help by engineering the transfer of the bug. I return to my office computer, and next thing I hear is, "It flies! I didn't know it could fly!", and yes, the bug had escaped to the top of our 14 foot ceiling. Much running around, turning lights on and off, squinting to track flight patterns... and after procuring a ladder from a neighbor... son recaptures the bug and puts it safely into its new home, or should I say morgue, as I understand it was to be gassed and dissected.

Not sure if one would consider this a happy or a sad ending to the story.

++++++++++

This week another innocent bug got captured for my Hoppy Palace Baby Phonics course. "A" is for a-a-ant. Five little two year olds peered intently at the amiable creature in the jar, who actually seemed to be waving his antennae at them (antennae! another a-a-a word! The two year olds were not impressed until I showed them how to make antennae with their fingers on their heads. Then they giggled.) I had best intentions of letting my ant loose again after my Saturday class... little suspecting that the building management would spray for bugs on Friday night, so on Saturday morning I found the little guy with all six legs pointing straight up at the s-s-sky.


I used an apple for my prop, instead.

++++++++++++++

Go to the ant, you sluggard;
consider its ways and be wise!It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.
-- Proverbs 6:6-8

Hoppy Palace #5 - Teaching Babies to Read

For the past few weeks I've been teaching hour long phonics lessons to 4 and 5 year olds at the Hoppy Palace Reading Centre. This is a picture of a friend's child, not one of my students, but she is exactly the age & vitality of the children I've been dealing with these past few weeks. And I've actually been enjoying it!

Isn't she beautiful? They all are!

Right now though, my stomach is churning because in a few short hours I will have the first of the Baby Phonics "trial" classes... one group of two year olds and a second group of one year olds, all coming with either a parent or a "helper" for a full HOUR of English phonics & reading lessons.

Much to the consternation of my family members, I have been practicing today's key songs all morning, including one of my personal favorites, "Elephants have Wrinkles".

The center piece of the class is flashing word and picture cards in front of the children, while making siren noises. I am just grateful that video recordings are strictly "verboten", so none of you will ever get to see me doing that.

I have been inquiring of the Lord just what "the Plan" is, having me, with all my experience in Sunday School, Confirmation, and Adult Education, involved in this kind of teaching, which I actually know very little about. Maybe there will be some doors opening for sharing something of God's love for these children & their parents, their domestic helpers (aka maids & servants)who often are the ones bringing these wealthier children to class, or maybe I can be a grace in the lives of my co-workers or even my boss here at the Hoppy Palace.

But right now there aren't just butterflies to contend with -- it feels like caterpillars are having field competitions in my stomach!

As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
until he has mercy upon us. -- Psalm 123:2
Kyrie eleison!

Confusions, Conundrums, Cultural challenges... (Hoppy Palace #4)

(photos: scenes from the Kowloon Tong mall which seemed to illustrate my current life's confusions ...)

The new center of the "Hoppy Palace" opened this week and I had to conduct a series of "trial classes" which were, truly, a trial.
During these sessions we teachers each take 6-8 children and assess their English skills and assign workbooks.

The "orange" workbooks are bright yellow, but when I asked our principal if we couldn't just call them the "yellow" books, she said, "Oh no, these are the orange books. See, it says 'orange' right here." And she helpfully pointed to the word "orange" printed at the top of the book list.

At least half of the two dozen different "orange" books are labeled "Book 1". So somehow I have to figure out the difference between Book 1 Elementary, Book 1 Basic, Enrichment Book 1, and Level 2 Book 1.... not to mention Intermediate Book 1, Advanced Book 1, and Advanced Book 1 Level 2.

Then there are the "Book 1's" in the additional colors of blue (which are white), pink, green and purple.

I spent hours at home trying to figure out the system, and could not. For the first time since moving to Hong Kong, I was in tears, wondering how on earth I could be to be fair to each child.

So yesterday I had 8 children delivered to my minuscule "classroom" which consists of two plastic tables and six wobbly plastic kiddie chairs (one of them already occupied by yours truly, so you can see where we had a problem from the get-go). They were mostly preschoolers and kindergartners, so my first order of business was to launch into cheery story-telling mode, which was not enough to keep two of the tiniest from bursting into tears, and a third little one from escaping down the hallway.

I was grateful for our three front office staff who came in, spoke in soothing Cantonese, and got the little people quieted down enough so that I could do my individual assessments: Four kids with no apparent English skills whatsoever: Easy, Book 1. Two kids who knew all their English alphabet and most of the animal names... ummm Book 1 Elementary, perhaps? And the big ten year old who looked properly disgusted to be in the same room with the rest of us? Maybe I'd better see what those white, um, blue books are all about...

Uh-oh, without any name tags, I managed to mix up Ling Ho Wing and Leung Hau Wing... quick get two new assessment forms.

Afterwards, dozens of anxious parents want to know my opinion of their progeny.

"He/she is a wonderful, beautiful, smart child," I say, "very eager to participate and I think he/she will learn very quickly."

I believe that, I really do.


"Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth." -- Luke 3:5 (taken totally out of context, but I'm still claiming the promise)

Hoppy Palace Training - Part 2

“Be wise my child, and bring joy to my heart;
then I can answer anyone who treats me with contempt. (The Proverbs of Solomon 27:11)

I’m totally exhausted after a full week of “Hoppy Palace Phonics” training. My major short-falling seems to be my slowness with the flashcards, which is true, but do I really aspire to greatness at speed-shuffling flashcards in front of two year olds? The critiquing teacher (cute young Canadian gal) told me I looked nervous. Well, yes, actually I was! Put me in front of 500 people for a lecture or a sermon & I rise to the occasion, but put me in front of 6 two year olds.... who are supposed to be learning phonics… and I’m all fumbling fingers.

The critique came from the same teacher who handed out two pencils each - unsharpened at least, but still -- to these same two year olds, and asked them to wave them and pound them and point them up to the sky... we lasted about 6 seconds before little DiDi almost put out her daddy’s eyeballs. (One of the bonuses of teaching on Saturdays is that while the littlest students during the week are usually accompanied by their live-in-nanny/helpers, on Saturdays the little ones often come with their Daddies, and it is an exquisite treat to see these stern, hard-working, professionally elite Dads take off their polished shoes and J-J-Jump up like a J-J-Jack-in-the-Box with their tiny tots. The kids just scream with delight!)

So I met the rest of the teachers and all nine of them are women in their twenties - Canadian, Canadian-Chinese, Australian, British, and two born and raised in Hong Kong to British parents. They are all slim and funky. So of course that explains why the head guy ("Dr. Lee"... although I have yet to see exactly where his doctorate might be from) that explains why he hired me. I just fit right in. (not).

I've certainly discovered again why God doesn't usually allow 50 year olds to have babies. To sit on the floor cross legged, jumping up and down for our song interactions... whoa.

This week we had one class where three boys wet their pants. Another class where little Lili came in the room… took one look and saw me sitting there… and promptly began to cry. I thought it was stranger-anxiety but then my teaching-teacher helpfully reminded me that Lili had already seen me in action last week, and obviously had recognized me again.

But there are moments of incredible sweetness. Like when little Ho-Ho wrapped his arms around my knees and said, “I love you teacher.”

Give me some moments of grace like these and I think I might be able to go on for years.

My new job at Hoppy Palace in Hong Kong

Make your own "hoppy frog" by clicking here.


I've heard nothing from the University positions I've applied for (to supplement our missionary salary) so I have begun teacher training at the Hong Kong "Hoppy Palace" Phonics Center as an English phonics tutor for these impossibly cute little Chinese kids whose parents harbor high hopes for their children's academic futures.

This is an unanticipated change of career at this point in my life, but our Wisconsin house languishes, still unsold, and this experience should provide some fascinating glimpses into 3-year old Cantonese minds. (The students range in age from barely two to the advanced levels who are six or even seven years old)

My first training experience was with a group of four 2 - 3 year olds: Arthur, who wanted to sleep, Janie, a tiny little girl who shocked me by whispering in complete English sentences, Bo-hai who gave reluctant, but correct answers when asked to distinguish the word-cards "policeman" from "fireman" and Ling, who just wanted to play, until he realized that wasn't an option, then started loudly lobbying for a snack from the snack cabinet.

Classes are one hour long, there is no break between groups of students, the students are all at different places in their workbooks (yes, they have a rigid system of phonics workbooks to be completed), and the teacher (soon to be me) is expected to complete thorough progress notes to be handed to the parents after each and every session.

Can I really do this? My "teaching teacher" is at least two decades younger than I.

One thing, though, I can't wait to get my official "Hoppy Palace" business card printed up.

(Business cards are a big deal here in Hong Kong, absolutely everyone who is anyone has them)

I go in for another training session this afternoon.

Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?"
He said to him, "Yes Lord, you know that I love you."
Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." -- dialogue quoted in the Gospel of John 28:15

Job Interview

"[your Father in heaven] causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." -- Jesus (as quoted in Matthew 5:45)

I may have mentioned that I’ve been looking for a part-time job to supplement Wayne’s ELCA Global Mission salary (and a huge thanks to churches & individuals who give to ELCA Global Mission… without you we could never be here!)

So while Wayne is working full time as a professor of Pastoral Care at the Lutheran Theological Seminary, I’m looking for a part-time job for these reasons:
a) to help pay our bills including two college tuitions
b) to use my God-given talents and experiences to make a difference in the world
c) to be able to give generously to God’s work here in Asia and back in the States
d) to learn about, and become more a part of the local community here in Hong Kong

(the order of importance of these four things vary greatly, you understand, depending on the circumstances!)

And so it came to be this week, that I, a middle-aged matron, holder of a Master’s degree in a not so very sought-after field, have managed to snag an interview at a children’s center.

It is drizzling a bit the morning of the interview. I meant to leave early, yet somehow it is still pretty much the last minute when I discover my fabulous new umbrella won’t stay up. Fortunately, Wayne has seen to it that we are well supplied with umbrellas, and I find an extra. Off again in the now driving rain, I walk very quickly to the metro station, only stepping in one large puddle on the way.

The train has just left which means waiting precious minutes for the next one. In the train, out of the train, then I’m racing up the steps of the MongKok station with ten minutes to spare. Has the rain lessened? No, actually, it's a mini-monsoon now. I have to flag down a taxi and actually get one, only to discover the driver speaks no English. "Waterloo DOE" I proclaim, proud of myself for remembering that "doe" means "road" in Cantonese. I show him my damp map. He grimaces, but takes off. I just pray, religious person that I am, just pray he will know where to go. He drops me off at a huge seven- way intersection, pointing down one of the roads. I see no street signs, but splash through the puddles in trust until, voila, I am at 1117 Waterloo "Doe". Enter a little elevator up to the 53rd floor. Breathlessly into a minuscule room, two of the cutest little kids you've ever seen are playing on the floor, anxious looking moms hovering over them, awaiting their child’s turn with the “English tutor” (job I’m applying for). I practically have to step over the children to get to the receptionist's counter, only to realize I have dripped rain all over the floor. The receptionist is kind. She takes my umbrella, shows me where to place my shoes, and says, "You can wait long time."

Not sure what to make of that, I look around for a place to sit. None. I observe the kids and smile, wondering if this is a test to see how well I interact with kids. I am ignored.

Finally after several painful minutes of standing in my stocking feet in the puddle I have just created, I am ushered into another teeny room, the office of the interviewer, where I am given a half hour lecture on the importance of RESULTS and PROGRESS and rigorous TRAINING METHODS (Did I tell you... these kids are 3,4,and 5 years old?)

I nod enthusiastically at what I think are all the right places. The interviewer tells me there is an opening in our area of town for just one day a week, which is beginning to sound like plenty enough time for me with this particular organization.

The interviewer warns me I will need an additional interview if I am to get the job. I find myself wondering what his topic will be for the second interview.

I think I will take the job, if offered, as it pays a very impressive sounding $250 an hour in Hong Kong dollars, and will give me some great opportunities for getting to know families and beautiful children from the “real Hong Kong” instead of just the expatriate community.

The rain has slowed when I leave, and I am able to walk in leisure back to the Mongkok Station. My umbrella works perfectly.