Ten Weeks in Taipei

Well, I made the mistake of drinking too much caffeine too late in the day and now I find myself wide awake at midnight with a head spinning round with dozens and dozens of disconnected thoughts.  And so, this seems like a good time to finish a blog I started two weeks ago, titled "Ten Weeks in Taipei."  We have just passed our three-month mark, but, whatever.

After three months in Taipei, it’s safe to say that we are all adjusting reasonably well.  The kids are adjusting faster and better than their parents, but we all know that kids are flexible little beings, don’t we?  I try not to feel jealous of their ability to cope.  J

We are learning fascinating things about our kids with this move to Taiwan.  Olivia, our first-born, rule-follower, people-pleaser, has adjusted to Taipei American School with very little fuss.  She has more homework and less friends than at home, but she’s working on getting used to both those things.  It’s in her athletic endeavors that we have seen something new.

Previous to now, Olivia has played sports on teams with wonderful coaches, parents, and kids.  We have truly been blessed in her sporting experiences, and her teams won more than they lost.  I think until now, Olivia thought that’s how it was supposed to be.  She took winning for granted and she’s not particularly competitive, so the occasional loss didn’t really bother her.  Or so we thought. 

Here in Taipei, she participates in a program called TYPA (Taipei Youth Program Associaton) which provides sports, music lessons, dance, drama, cooking, etc.  The facility is right next to her school, so it makes perfect sense to sign her up for their activities.  Now, TYPA is focused on allowing as many kids from as many different levels of sport to enjoy activities, which is a little different than programs that are trying to teach kids sports.  To that end, the basketball program is such that kids sign up for one of two practice days and then have games on Saturdays.  That means Olivia doesn’t actually practice with all the kids on her team, the only time they all play together is at the game on Saturday.  During practice, she participates in drills and is supposed to be learning fundamental basketball skills. 

As you can imagine, this is a totally different system than the one we come from, and Olivia was completely bewildered in the first game.  (As were her parents!)  She didn’t even know her teammates names so she couldn’t call for the ball, and they didn’t run any plays, so she had no idea where to be on the court, other than “open.”  As Joe and I tried to wrap our head around this bizarre new approach to basketball, the coach and others assured us that the girls would come together and figure things out.

As it turned out, that’s not what happened for Olivia’s team.  They did improve their ability to work together a bit during the season, but they didn’t learn anything about the fundamentals of how to play the game.  And they lost, a lot.   Four games into the season, Olivia was in tears, so upset and pissed about losing that she couldn’t contain herself.  Joe and I were surprised….where had this competitive kid come from?  After lots of conversation, she dug down deep and played really hard the next game.  She ran up and down the court with determination, she took all the shots she could, she rebounded, she did it all.  I was so impressed.  And yet they lost again, and she truly believed that one person working her hardest makes no difference.  What a horrible thing to believe.  

So we encouraged her and we coaxed her into keeping her commitment to the team and she hung in there, exhibiting more competitive fire than we’ve ever seen before.  And still, they lost EVERY. SINGLE. GAME.  It was heartbreaking to hear her say that she was glad the season was over because she was tired of losing and making no difference.  But Joe and I learned a valuable lesson…our oldest daughter does not like to lose and is just as competitive as both her parents when her back is against the wall.  Who knew???  Not us, and I think, not her.

Genevieve….oh the things we have learned about Genevieve.  Our sunshine, our happy-go-lucky, flighty, fit-in-wherever child, has extremely high (and possibly unrealistic) expectations for herself it turns out.  To bring you up to speed, the first two weeks of school were extremely hard for her.  She literally gutted her way through it.  She didn’t understand anything her teacher said the first week of school, and only about 50% of what he said the second week.  By the third week she felt like she mostly understood what he was saying, but she still missed important information about homework and tests and swimming day and and and….Luckily her teacher assigned her a buddy and that helped her key into the important information.  And I started asking all the other moms what I might be missing.  Between the two of us we started to get a clue.

It turned out, in all our worry about Genevieve learning to read and write traditional characters, we had overlooked one major factor.  We assumed that since she has been listening to and speaking Mandarin for the last six years, listening to her teachers would pose no problems.  We did not, however, account for accents!  Genevieve started speaking Mandarin when we lived in Shanghai, and all her teachers at NWCA were from mainland China.  She had never been exposed to the Taiwanese accent and really struggled to understand her teachers and fellow students.  Once she started to adjust to the Taiwanese accent, she started to make progress and smile again.  In the fourth week, there were finally days when I picked her up after school and she grinned and said school was good today.  What a relief.

But it’s been difficult.  We have had our share of good and bad days.  There was the day when we realized that we bought the wrong recorder (oops), and the day(s) we missed the homework assignment (oh crap), and the day she wore her uniform when no one else did (sorry honey!), and the day she overheard some other third grade girls whispering about how “the American girl is weird” (oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.)  And the day her Mandarin tutor said she was having trouble focusing and maybe their sessions together weren’t as productive as they need to be (well, could you just keep working with her please?).  All small things taken individually, but for Genevieve, they all felt huge and tragic.

But there was also the day Genevieve announced she had a new best friend (hallelujah).  And the day she asked to be signed up for the afterschool program so she could hang out with her classmates (we can definitely do that!).  And the day she proudly announced at dinner that she got a 97 on her test.  (Joy, excitement, disbelief, grins, hugs, jubilation!!!)  “What subject the test was in?” we asked.  Take a wild guess?  Yes, the test was for ENGLISH class.  Sheesh.  Not that we aren’t proud of you kiddo, but it is your mother tongue and you were asked how to spell the numbers one - twenty, so you ought to be getting a 97!!!

As the weeks went by and she seemed to get the hang of the homework, the daily schedule, and how the overall system worked, we were all feeling pretty good.  Then the testing started.  Here in Taiwan, mid-term and end-of-term tests are VERY big deals.  Teachers, students and parents are all focused on these tests.  So, a few weeks ago Genevieve started taking short tests a couple times a week.  I assumed it was because the teacher was trying to gauge how everybody was going to do on the mid-term exams and I was right.  Genevieve did well on the first Chinese test, in fact when she brought the test home with a 79 (out of 100), I was overjoyed!  I thought if she was getting anything over a 50 in the first term, we would be doing well, so the 79 blew me away.  Genevieve was genuinely surprised that I was happy with a 79, and this should have been my first clue that there was more going on with this little girl than meets the eye.

Her next few Chinese tests had lower scores, a 50, 66, 69.  And with each test she was more and more upset.  Her math tests were all hanging out in the upper 70s and 80s, which seemed to be OK with her.  I made an appointment with Genevieve’s language assistance teacher, the woman who helps her learn traditional characters.  Ms. Rebecca reported that Genevieve was doing quite well, learning the material at a good rate, and understanding and retaining the Chinese.  But, she also told me that she was worried about the very high expectations Genevieve has for herself.  She recounted how Genevieve had been extremely disappointed when she hadn’t received 90+ scores in Chinese, and how she was very aware that she had the lowest scores in her class. 

Rebecca asked me to make sure that Genevieve understood that we didn’t expect her to get perfect scores.  Honestly, it never even occurred to me that I would have to tell Genevieve this!  For God’s sake, she is going to school in a SECOND language and making it through every day.  She has more courage and gumption in her little finger than either of her parents!  We have zero expectations that she be getting As or Bs in this school.

Of course we talked with Genevieve.  We told her how this is not a competition with other students, this is her second language and this is about her learning and making progress, not being perfect.  And I told her that we thought a score of 50 was actually great, and anything above 50 was more than we expected or imagined at this stage.  And then she hits me with, “But Mom, at home I was always #2 in my class.  Only Justin did better than me.”  And she says it with such a serious face and voice that I realize she has been fiercely competitive and aware of her status in the classroom all along.  At this point, I’m honestly wondering if I haven’t been paying enough attention as a parent.  How did I miss this side of her?  I check in with Joe and he has the exact same take on it that I do; he is astounded that she is so serious about her grades and position in the classroom.  

So this began an ongoing conversation with Genevieve about our expectations.  It is a delicate balance because we want her to understand, and believe with all her heart, that no matter what her score on her tests we love her unconditionally.  And school is about learning, and as long as she’s moving forward, she’s doing fine.  But how to tell her test scores don't matter, while at the same time emphasizing that working hard, staying focused and striving to do your best is also important?  Arrrggghh.  Parenting really should come with a manual, with an addendum on how to handle your child if you move to a new country and put them in school in a different language, which of course you yourself don’t speak.

Tonight is Sunday, and this upcoming week is the mid-term exams. I am praying extra prayers that Genevieve will get a score on the test that gives her hope, makes her proud, and keeps her self-esteem in tact.  I have no idea what that score is, but I have learned that my little girl does know what that score is for her, and she’s fiercely aware of achieving it.  Who knew??? Not us.

And then there is Amelia. God bless her, she is her normal vivacious, chatty, irrepressible self.  And we haven’t learned anything shocking about her 4 year old self, yet.  She attends a great Montessori school, all in Mandarin, and loves her teachers and her friends.  Her class has 16 students, four of which are English speakers.  Naturally she has gravitated to the other English speakers and has made good friends of them all.  But she’s still picking up some Mandarin and can successfully make her needs known (I need help, I need to go to the bathroom, my friend, and see you tomorrow).  Her days are long, starting with a 6:30 wake-up, a walk to her sister’s two schools, a bus ride to her own school, and then a school day that lasts from 8:30-4:00.  But she’s happy, if not a little tired, at the end of every day and eager to go to school every morning.  Now, if I could just get her to stop chattering non-stop from 6:30 to 8:30am, all would be well.  Seriously, the child talks NON-STOP for two hours every morning, it’s exhausting!!!

As for Joe and I, we are muddling our way through.  The adjustment to Taiwan has been surprisingly harder than the adjustment to Shanghai.  We have figured out, after long, exhaustive, and sometimes unkind conversations, that a few key things are different here.  When we moved to Shanghai, we knew no one for the first month and we were forced to rely solely on each other.  It brought us closer and strengthened our relationship.  And we had help, in the form of our wonderful ayi.  We could go out for date night with no planning whatsoever, ayi was always there to watch the kids.  And our children were much smaller, with no real extra-curricular activities or obligations; our time was really our own.  So, we have figured out how things are different for us on this assignment, and now we are working on being a little kinder and more generous to each other as we find our footing.  They say awareness is the first step, so I think we’re on our way.

Actually, I hesitated to write that last paragraph about Joe and I because I imagined a bunch of messages on Facebook and elsewhere with people saying things like “hang in there” and “it gets better” and “you can always come home” and I almost deleted it.  But in the end, I don’t want to be dishonest about this experience and if I didn’t write about us, I would be leaving something out.  Taiwan is a new and interesting place and we’re truly happy to be here and feel blessed to have this opportunity.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard some days.  You have to have faith, in each other, in the process of adjustment, and in the idea that opening yourself and your family up to new experiences will make your life richer, fuller, and more meaningful in the long run.