Last year our school hosted a Vietnamese Culture Club.
How cool is that? We are blessed to live in a diverse community.
Patrick, Lan Lan and Vu happily participated in the language and culture lessons. We were told that Patrick has an amazing ear for language.
This year, when Lan Lan returned to Saturday Chinese School, Patrick decided to join in too.
Sidenote: Patrick probably decided to join because he knew it would mean exclusion from Hour of Power chores (a nice bonus for having to spend Saturday morning in school). He also thought it occurred during church--not sure how the mis-communication occurred, but I can assure you he wasn't so gung-ho about Chinese school when he discovered the truth.
Last week was the first day. Patrick was excited about it before class.
Afterward? Not so much. Not so much at all. He didn't like being the only kid who wasn't Asian and the only one who didn't speak at least a little Chinese (welcome to the world our newly adopted kids live in daily!).
As the next Saturday approached, he became more and more apprehensive. He wanted to drop the class. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to learn Chinese.
Here is what he said as we were driving in the car.
"Mom, I know you said that learning Chinese will help me get a job someday, but I've been thinking about it and I don't think that's true. You might not know this, but I want to work in a bow 'n arrow shop someday (last I knew he was planning on becoming President of the United States while simultaneously working at a video game store), and really mom? How many people do you think I'm going to get in my shop who are looking to buy a bow 'n arrow and only speak Mandarin?"
I have to admit. The kid's got a point.
I still made him go to Chinese school.
I'm happy to report that class two felt much more comfortable and even enjoyable.