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I found out that our Chinese school was closed for good the week before it was set to start. I wanted to complain that they didn’t notify us sooner, but I couldn’t find anyone to bark at.

The next best thing to do was to find a new school. I quickly hit up my trusted know-it-all friend we call google, and located another weekend Chinese school in the area. It is no where as close to home as our former school, but still within tolerable driving distance.

I called up the school immediately, and got invited to go to the school that afternoon with my baby. They wanted to make sure that the baby is qualified to enroll in their 8th grade class.

I brought along our old 7th grade class textbook, and the final test paper, where it was clearly marked a 100% for verbal test, and 99% for written test.

Old 7th grade Chinese textbook, and A+ final test paper


Of course we are qualified to enroll in the 8th grade class!!

“Your textbook has pinyin everywhere. Our 8th grade textbook has no pinyin at all.” the Chinese teacher at the new school stated as she flipped through our book. She showed no interest in our proud test paper. This was a bummer.

She walked over to a cabinet, pulled out a drawer, and pulled out a book.

“I think our 6th grade textbook is more suited for her.” she walked over with the book.

My baby took the book from her weakly. The poor child looked intimidated.

The teacher took the book back from her, flipped to a page, and said, “Here, read the first paragraph.”

The baby stared down at the page, and I leaned over to peak at the paragraph. The cursed paragraph was based on a Chinese idiom story starring a Chinese general.

Ancient Chinese general and his horse race


“This paragraph is kind of hard. She does not know how to read “general”, and this general has a difficult Chinese name.” this lame excuse served as my best effort to help out my nervous child.

“Oh yes, this is a difficult lesson to read.” said the teacher, finally showing off that she can smile.

“Here, read this first paragraph in the first lesson.” she opened the book to the beginning.

The baby sent another pleading glance at me.

“What is that” I pointed to the title.

The Star Fruit


“Oh, you don’t know. That is a fruit.” she looked at us, then added, “ well, we don’t have them here. It is fruit that looks like a star when you cut into it.”

The Star fruit. We have seen them up on a tree in Hawaii once.

“She has been out of the school for the whole summer. She forgets everything. I think it is hard to read about something you don’t know.” me, continuing my bid to bail out the pitiful looking thing that sat next to me.

“No problem….” she took the book back and flipped some more, “ Here, how about the Great Wall! Everybody knows that. Read the first paragraph. Or any paragraph is fine.”

The Great Wall of China


“You have been to the Great Wall, remember? You can read it.” I said to the poor baby cheerfully. There was no getting out of reading with this teacher.

The baby struggled with the paragraph the best she could, skipping many characters, red-faced, and sweating on the forehead.

“You guys don’t speak Chinese at home.” she said to me accusingly.

“We do…sometimes…” I fumbled for words, and added, “she understands Chinese very well.”

“Oh, you speak to her in Chinese, and she answers back in English?” teacher.

“She knows how to speak Chinese.” me, insisted.

“The most she can enroll in our school is 6th grade.” she said to me.

The baby and I shared a look.

“Okay.” We surrendered fast.

Previous related posts: Losing Face at Chinese School

Crazy Memorization Week

Chinese School vs School School

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I had an exceptional summer…. I didn’t get to go anywhere fun this summer.

I spent the whole summer driving my kids to their summer job, summer school, and summer camps. Actually, that is not all I did. I pestered my teen all summer long to get her driver’s license.

I thought all teens will leap into action on the day that they are just old enough to drive. But my teen allowed her 15 and half birthday slip past without making a peep.

“Don’t you want to drive?” I asked, driving her to school one morning.

“No, not really.” teen, shrugging her shoulders.

WHAT?!

“Why not?!” me.

“I don’t need to. You drive me everywhere I want to go.” teen.

Hum….The kid is wise. Why bother with driving when you have a 5-star rated personal chauffeur at your disposal?

“But I want to retire from driving you around!!” me.

“Oh! I will try to get my license then.” teen.

That was a conversation 6 months ago.

Nag, nag, nag, pester, pester, pester.

I made an appointment for my teen to take her written test last Wednesday at our local DMV office.

I hate going to the DMV office. A trip to the DMV office always feels like stepping into a tiny communist country run by uncaring dictators.

We stood in the line for people with appointments.

A stone faced DMV lady waved us to her station. I promptly produced our application and birth certificate, a required certificate for teens to take the written test.

“I need documentation that shows proof of address.” DMV lady.

I had called and looked online, nowhere did it say that we need to bring proof of address documentation.

I scrambled to see if I had anything with me. Hey, my driver’s license has my address on it.

“We don’t accept driver’s license as a valid form of proof of address.” DMV lady.

WHAT?! The DMV won’t accept my driver’s license. They issue these things.

“Oh, I have my vehicle registration in my car, that has my address on it.” me.

“Go get it, then get back in line.” DMV lady.

We got back in line with my car registration paper in hand.

I hand her everything, along with my registration card.

“We need two forms of proof of address documentation.” DMV lady.

“Oh, I also have my driver’s license….” me.

“We don’t accept driver’s license.” DMV lady.

“Well, I don’t have anything else with my address on it.” me.

“You can go home, and get another documentation.” DMV lady hand me back everything, trying to wave me away.

“What about my appointment? Will you still honor my appointment?” me.

“Your appointment is at 2:40, you have half an hour, you need to be back by 3:10” DMV lady, waving the next people to approach.

I needed Superman to fly me home and be back by 3:10.

MADDENING.

Get A Driver's License !

I had set a goal of getting her driving written test done before school. School was starting on Monday!

I drove out of the DMV parking lot, turned into the next street, and saw: BANK OF AMERICA.

Capitalist to the rescue…

I swung into the B of A parking lot, ran into the office, and asked a friendly personal banker to print me a banking statement.

I was back in line at the DMV office, and got to our DMV lady station by 3:07.

We made it!

A short while later, we were called into another window. Then to the station to get the photo ID picture taken, then on to the testing area.

I went to sitting area and waited.

20 minutes later. Two teens came out of the testing area, and informed their parents that they did not pass the written test.

You can fail this test? I thought this is one of those tests where everyone can pass.

Oh no, I can’t stomach another round of this torture.

I spotted my teen coming out, looking long faced. A sinking feeling assaulted me.

“How was the test?” I asked.

“I passed.” teen answered looking unhappy.

We waited around some more, and finally got our driver’s permit.

“Congratulations!! ! You can now take driving lessons.” me, inside the car, very happy.

“Cool.” teen.

“Why do you look unhappy?” me.

“My picture ID is terrible! When can I change that picture?” teen, looking at me all sad eyed.

Ha, ha, I can’t wait to see it.

Previous related post: When I Turn 18…

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