not my picture…
Translated…
The last two times we’d had long stays in the States, we’d lived in the dormitories of the university students, there’s a high percentage of foreign students for the Masters and Doctorate programs in the States, the dormitories became like a miniature United Nation. At which time, the soccer players that played with my son were, from at least five different countries.
The dormitory management center had the afterschool academic help, as well as a reading club, with the students who were working on their graduate degrees volunteering there, so the parents who are working on their higher education degrees didn’t have to rush back at three in the afternoon; we are all working our menial jobs, with the minimum pays, and getting the financial assistance too, but, taking care of the children doesn’t seem too gruesome, the parents helped each other out, or utilized the resources from the university, and, the kids won’t worry about not having a place to be, that, was a time when we didn’t have much, but were still, very happy, living our lives.
This time I’d come back to the States, because of the lacking in dormitory space, we’d moved in, to a middle-class neighborhood, with the help of a friend. I’d searched online for the school districts, other than the school having higher average in reading and math compared to statewide, there’s, a lacking in diversity of population, this was, a classic, white neighborhood. And, it was, rare, for my youngest son, who was, “dropped from the air”, a foreigner to study locally, and so, I’d written a letter to the school principal, and told him about why we were here this time, and told him, that my son isn’t an English speaker, hoped the school can find someone who’d shared similar backgrounds with him to help him get acculturated to school life here.
in order to catch up, you’ll surely, need the extra help in English…
The principal invited us to visit the school before school started, and my shy youngest son quickly adapted to the environment; and I’d also taken note of how much the instructor put into devising the lessons, one of the lesson was self-introductions, she’d encouraged my son to write in English and Chinese, then, to give a presentation in both languages to the class, the classmates were all in awe of his Chinese writing, and admired him so, it’d made him, feel achieved.
What’s more surprising was, my youngest asked to learn the violin and swimming like the rest of his classmates, and the reason why he’d chosen these two was because the American instructors never yelled at the students.
In the school, there were, three segments of my son’s class which he was pulled out of his regular class, for him to get the extra help he’d needed in English. And, the fourth and fifth graders in the school all had an iPad each, and, the parents only needed to pay the $35 in insurances.
My friend told me, that this school district had passed the rise in taxes, to get the school better equipped, so, the machines were the newest, and the teachers in special eds were also, added by numbers, she’d told me, that my youngest son was lucky. She’d told me, that there was, a public high school in the southern side, the quality of instructors is comparable to the private universities, and the SAT scores are highest in the state, and the housing prices too. A couple of her Asian friends had already, moved and bought the houses, to get a spot for their own children.
the various ISD’s…not my logo…
As I’d heard up to here, I’d started to, miss those days that we lived in happiness, not having that much money.
So, this, is the up and down side, of being wealthy, of becoming more affluent than you once were, because, there’s a lot to consider, you wanted the best education opportunity for your son, but at the same time, there’s that outside noise on how you need to get your son up to the competitive speed, but, what makes the kid happiest should be the primary considerations, after all, children only have one childhood to live…
Life, the Obstacle Course 