I sold my van before we moved here. A transatlantic move was the perfect excuse to finally sell the car and start commuting by bike like I'd been promising to do for so long. We arrived in the middle of a historically soggy monsoon season, so I didn't ride much, but we still got around on foot or by using public transportation. I loved it. The fact that we didn't have a car surprised or bewildered everyone we met. A car-free family of six is pretty good for shock-value. When people asked whether we were going to buy a car, I'd answer with a resounding no.
That lasted four months. Then we decided to enroll the kids in three different schools and they all got out at the same time. No matter how fast I ran, or even if I caught a cab, I couldn't be in three places at once. With the help of a car though, I could get from kid to kid pretty quickly. So, we bought a little Kia and I started driving every day. Oh, the embarrassment! I mentioned it to my friend Anna one afternoon, that I felt dumb about how hypocritical I'd look to all those people who'd insisted we would eventually need a car. Anna just smiled and said "Well, who cares what they think? You love your kids so much that you're willing to look a little silly to do the right thing for them."
Those words have brought me comfort more than once, but never more than they did yesterday as I withdrew my kids from Korean school. They are going back to American school. Enrolling them at Bogwang was an agonizing decision and pulling them out was even harder. Jensie is failing and she hates it there.
I really thought that at some point, something would click. That we just needed to "get over the hump." I went to Panama when I was 18 as a foreign exchange student. Being immersed in a new language and culture was completely overwhelming. It was so much harder than I'd thought it would be! I cried myself to sleep my first four months there. Then one crummy Friday, feeling lost and bewildered, I decided to write out 100 Spanish verbs in all their conjugation forms. I'd been studying those awful verbs for months, but that day, something finally clicked. I went back to school on Monday happy and fully conversant. It was so fun to understand everything being said, to finally be able to speak my mind, to make fast friends. I thought Jensie would have a similar experience. That if we could just see her through the hard part, she would get to enjoy and love the fun part that followed. Korean is a much more difficult language than Spanish, so instead of a few months, we've given Jensie a whole school year just to start to "get it."
Before the kids got out for summer break I met with each of their teachers for a very long and helpful conference. Jensie's teacher told me that if she wasn't able to catch up on everything she's missed (failed to understand) over the break, she would need to be held back a year. Math has been especially difficult because while Jensie was right on track in the states, she started Korean school already two years behind her peers. American kids learn multiplication and division in 3-4th grade. Koreans have those stinkin' times tables memorized by the end of first. Determined to make this work, we increased her private tutor's hours, subscribed to Aleks, an online tutoring program, and oversaw hours of worksheets and math practice every night. The girl's worked hard. But she isn't caught up. HeeJin, the tutor, confirmed as much after her session last Thursday night. "Jensie does not understand the mathematics," she said. "She will not be able to keep up with her classmates when she goes back to school."
I agree with HeeJin. I watched Jensie very carefully while the tutor was here. Have you ever asked someone for directions then realized you aren't going to remember anything they say? You need and want their help, so you try to pay attention, but it doesn't do any good. By the fourth U-turn you're like, yeah, uh-huh, okay, 'cause they're still talking, but in your head you're telling yourself you'll just go home and Google it? That is the look I saw on Jensie's face Thursday night.
Jensie tried, really tried, to pay attention to what the tutor was saying, but about half-way through each sentence her eyes glassed over and she lost interest. She sat nodding, saying "Neh, neh (yes, yes)," not really hearing what was being said. The expression on her face nearly broke my heart. She clearly didn't understand anything. Her tutor gave her instructions in Korean three times before saying in English, "Paper, Jensie. Please get two pieces of paper." Ten months and she doesn't recognize the word for paper yet. I was stunned. No doubt that word's come up once or twice, or a thousand times, at school. It would be completely naive at this point to think she might catch up to her Korean classmates.
Fourth grade is extremely difficult for even the best Korean students. They begin their competitive testing for high school placement in fifth grade, and fourth grade is the year to cram. Korean children study up to 6 hours each night. Without any reading or language comprehension there is no way Jensie would succeed. Nearly a whole school year has passed and because the language never clicked, she's now three years behind her classmates in math instead of two. While she's been in Korean school not understanding anything, she's missed an entire year of English instruction of the math foundations she's trying so hard to grasp.
Nate's in the field for three weeks, so I called him to tell him what I'd observed and what the tutor said. We'd obviously hoped Jensie would have more success at Korean school, but well, she didn't. We want to do what's best for her. After talking for a few minutes we decided that Jensie needs to be in American school.
I went to the DoDs school first thing Friday morning. School starts in a week. I'm a second-guesser so it's nice that we don't have much time to reconsider. Nate encouraged me not to regret their time in Korean school or the decision to pull her out. I'd be lying if I said we hadn't also discussed our finances a bit. Private tutors are expensive. We spend more than $1,000 dollars every month to educate our children. That isn't much compared to the cost of private school, but it's still a lot of money. We've been happy to pay it. Money spent on education is money well spent. But we're trying to get a fourth year here, and my math skills are better than Jensie's. The thought of paying over $50,000 dollars to watch my intelligent daughter fall behind her peers in both Korean and American schools makes me sick.
Asher, on the other hand, has made amazing progress! He speaks Hangul very well and has long crazy conversations with the tutor that none of the rest of us understand. He plays Korean games and sings Korean songs. He's a beginning reader, but understands everything on the page. We couldn't be more pleased and are very proud of him. For all of Jensie's academic struggles though, Asher has struggled emotionally and socially. He's been in several fist fights, hasn't made friends, is picked on by his classmates, and bullies them right back.
The school's administrators warned us that because Koreans put so much emphasis on "sameness" it's not always possible for foreign students to assimilate. A friend of Nate's, a doctor on post, told us about a little blond boy he was treating for ulcers caused from the stress of being teased about his looks by the Korean boys in his apartment complex. We hoped that we could teach our children to deal with that positively. We wanted to teach them that just because kids grow up thinking different things, we can still learn to be friends.
This year we've seen a stressed and anxious side of Asher that we didn't know existed. Knowing how to help him cope with school life has been incredibly difficult. On the one hand, we see a need to discipline him when he acts out in class or gets in fights with other students. At the same time, we realize that he is doing those things because he's under an extreme amount of pressure and needs a lot of extra love and kindness. We have no doubt that in six more months Asher would be completely fluent in Hangul. Because he started early and has a good attitude in the classroom, he's set to succeed in Korean school as long as we're here. But Jensie has been his only emotional support and playmate at the school and we don't think it's reasonable to expect him to stay there without her.
I was proud to tell people my kids were doing big hard things, but not that proud. It's humbling to admit defeat, but Anna was right. I care way more about my kids than I do about looking silly. One of the most important things I've learned from all of this is to really listen to my kids. Jensie has said from day one that she "can't" do this. My dad always used to tell me that "'Can't' means I don't want to." I guess sometimes "I can't" also means "I won't." I can force her to go to school, but not to learn. Jensie doesn't have to care about the things that matter to me. My time would be better spent teaching her to set goals and work hard to accomplish the things she cares about.
While I was filling out the New Student registration forms at the school on post, a man sat down next to me and asked where we're moving from. When I told him we've actually been here for a year but our kids have been in Korean school, he was impressed.
"Yeah, but we weren't successful," I said, gesturing towards the registration forms.
"I know," he said, "but how many families do you know that would even be brave enough to try it?"
So, there is that. I am glad we tried. I hope my kids learn from that. I would like them to be proud of their courage and to try and try again. If they ever choose to learn Korean (on their terms, when they want to) they have a great foundation for it. The other day Jensie told me "Mom, you don't even know what I eat at school. I eat weirder foods than you've ever seen." That's cool too.
Frankie will stay put. She loves Korean school and is not only learning Hangul but is really coming out of her shell. Our shy little blondie has lots of friends and loves her teachers. She's far enough removed from the other two, that the decision to pull them from Bogwang doesn't affect her much. I'm not sure whether she'll stay there forever. She won't be old enough for Kindergarten for another year, so we've got time to think about it.
Some of you will remember that we were homeschoolers before this adventure and may wonder why we aren't going to homeschool again. The answer is two-fold ( and a little bit selfish). First, Jensie has been in a new school every year of her life. Part of that comes from growing up in the military and sometimes change was a necessity. Sometimes though, it was entirely my choice. I chose to change it up. Again and again and again. There were pros and cons to each of those decisions. For example, when we moved to Utah while Nate was deployed, Jensie had to start over at a new school (again) but she got to know our extended family very well. We spent every weekend at my dad's and she got to go to Grandi's house for Christmas and Cousin's week. I developed a great relationship with my sister Natalie, who I'd never really known before, and spent quality time with my brother Trace who is now deployed to Afghanistan. Those things matter, and are worth a lot. But we'd like to give our kids some stability here. We know they need consistency and haven't always had it.
Second, I want to focus on my own education. I'm four months away from completing a bachelor's degree--all set to graduate this winter (next Spring at the latest depending on when my courses are available). We have a plan to buy the farm of our dreams. That plan involves a lot more education (a master's degree in Social Work) and a job for me. Homeschool is important to me, but so is teaching by example. I don't just want to tell my kids that people do big things. I want them to see me doing big things. There will be days when I have to study or write a paper and if my kids were home, their studies would suffer. Public school will be a something they can count on.
I'm about ready to swear off definitive statements, but I feel confident saying this will be their last school in Seoul. I love being a mom, but hardly ever know what I'm doing. Let's hope my learn-as-you-go approach doesn't ruin their lives for ever.
Fingers crossed!
