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VIPKID: Most Frequently Asked Questions

Many people are interested in joining our company, but find themselves unsure of what that might mean. Thus, I put together a quick list of the questions I am typically asked. If your question is not included, please follow-up with me regarding your inquiry. Here are the most common queries, in no particular order:

1. How much can you make?

When you join VIPKID, you can make anywhere between $14-$22 per hour, and the rate is based on your first interview with the company (make it a good one!). There are incentives for basic actions, like showing up to class on time and ending on time, too. Thus, if you are hired at $16 per hour, for example, but manage to teach two classes in that hour well, you really walk away with $18 for that time block.

2. What is the teaching like?

The classes are each 25-minutes long, one-on-one. There is a sister organization you can apply to join, the Jack Ma Foundation, which teaches classes of students in rural China. In this case, you do teach whole classes. Most of our VIPKID clientele are affluent; the children have access to computers and technology in their homes. In the rural education project, that is not the case.

Teaching my precious Jack Ma Foundation students.

3. What are the teaching hours?

Because of the time zone difference, optimum teaching hours are between 8 pm and 8 am our time. We are considered independent contractors, not employees, and we can pick our own hours (when we teach, how often and at what times). “Peak Peak time slots” (those that are most likely to be booked) are currently 6-8 am. This will change to 5-7 am when daylight savings time ends.

I know teachers that instruct most of their classes in the mornings, and others that prefer evenings. Currently, I do a small mix of both. It’s really up to you and what works best in your current situation.

4. Do we have to lesson plan or grade?

Not at all. All the curriculum is provided, and at the end of every lesson, you type a brief review of how your student did. At the end of assessments, rubrics that you can easily fill out are provided.

There is no grading of papers, either. Everything is done 100% electronically. Hooray for saving trees, am I right?!

5. Is there accountability?

I’m so glad you asked! Of course there is. Each lesson is filmed from the moment you begin until you finish. Parents are encouraged to rate teachers on a scale of 1-5 apples. In the event that you receive less of a rating than you think you deserve, you are able to playback the video, watch yourself, and contact the company.

6. Are my taxes automatically taken out?

They are not, but they will give you a 1099 at the end of the year. You will need to pay taxes on it, so depending on what bracket you fall into, be prepared and plan accordingly.

7. Do you enjoy it? What are your least favorite parts of the job?

I LOVE it! I get to teach and contribute to our family financially in the comfort of our home. Most mornings I teach in my pajama pants and a t-shirt (they only see our torsos). The children are precious and eager to learn! The bonds I have formed with them and their parents are unique and special. I especially enjoy working for the Jack Ma Foundation, and seeing 35-40 beautiful Chinese faces on my computer screen twice a week.

The hours can be challenging. In fact, when I have referrals that do not continue with us, it is because they found the time difference too taxing. I am (currently) slowly transitioning from teaching in the wee hours of the morning to evenings. I’ll let you know how that goes.

8. What does my online classroom need to look like? What if I don’t have space in my house to sacrifice?

There is no need to reinvent the wheel. We have teachers all over the world, since it is a remote job. Some that live in apartments in New York City literally use shower curtains as their backgrounds. Traveling educators use a science project board as their background.

Keep it simple. You are the face of the business you are building. This also goes for props. The main items I use are flashcards, and occasionally a small white board. Since I work with 4 and 5-year olds, I have characters that I have printed (the company and fellow teachers provide us with helpful links) and glued onto popsicle sticks. That’s it!

9. Can I do this full-time, and are there benefits?

Yes, you can certainly work for VIPKID full-time, but the job does not come with benefits. I have heard of instructors leaving their traditional brick and mortar schools when they join our company. I’m not sure when they sleep, but they do very well, earning up to $56,000 their first year.

Most of us working for VIPKID do it as a part-time job in order to earn supplemental income.

10. What are some of the biggest learning curves you have experienced?

There are many cultural differences between the US and China that become apparent as you work for VIPKID. And that’s because China was a country I was already familiar with and loved! Even so, sometimes the rigidity of working for them takes me by surprise.

Learning how to teach via my computer posed some new challenges. I would liken it to teaching while looking in a mirror; everything is backwards and you need to get used to presenting and holding items up to the screen. It is imperative that you have a strong internet connection at home. There will be times that you or your student experience technical difficulties. If it happens on the student’s end, you are not penalized. You can be if it happens on yours.

As I stated in the beginning, please do not hesitate to contact me if I did not cover your particular question. There is never any pressure from me when you apply. I come alongside you as you need me to. This is my referral link. My code is GIANA0001 (those are zeroes). I look forward to you joining us!

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Dear Mr. Miller and Zach Brooks

Mr. Miller

As happens more frequently than I’d like to admit, I was shopping at H-E-B recently in my workout clothes (which may or may not result in actually working out) when I ran into someone of utmost importance. Purse in hand, I glanced at the plants in the entryway of the store, checking for sales, when I saw a familiar figure out of the corner of my right eye.

It was Mr. Miller, my beloved 8th grade Science teacher, at Cummings Middle School. I had run into him a few times over the years, but on this day, he looked quite different. “Mr. Miller!” I waved. “Oh, hey…” he responded, smiling with a hoarse voice, and giving me a side squeeze. He felt quite thin under my arm, and somewhat frail. I glanced up at him and saw he wore a bandana over his head, covered with a cap, and he was missing his typically thick eyebrows.

We began conversing like two old friends. I asked how he was, and he honestly and graciously told me the truth: he was not well. He had just finished about 6 rounds of chemotherapy after being diagnosed with throat cancer. “Oh, no” I lamented,”I’m so sorry.” He shared that his prognosis was good, but the treatment had been harsh. As he continued talking, I listened through a sort of haze. I had a hard time accepting that he, Andy Miller, a lifelong Yoga practitioner and eater of all good things, had cancer. “I know,” he said, “I tried doing things right and still…”

At the end of our brief visit, I told him I would keep him in my prayers, a sincere gesture that seemed so small when spoken out loud. He thanked me and we went our separate ways.

I spent the next several minutes in the grocery store trying not to run into him again. My out-of-body experience clouded my pressing need to purchase food and other essentials. I read through my list and placed items in my cart with a heavy heart. It was not until I drove away from H-E-B that I allowed myself to cry.

Visions of 8th grade rushed my memory. My classmates and I sometimes ate lunch in Mr. Miller’s classroom, because that was the cool thing to do, while munching on Flamin’ Hots, licking the red powder off our fingers. I hated science before being his student and was not especially fond of it afterward. He made lessons relevant, told great stories, was funny and treated us all with respect.

Once my middle school career came to an end, we loosely kept in contact over the years, in large part because my younger sister, Erin, was good friends with his daughter, Rossina. We occasionally visited them in their home, and together with his lovely wife, it was a perpetually peaceful environment.

Zach Brooks

I fell in love with teaching by accident and fell even harder when I met my first group of 5th-grade students in August of 2005. 23-years young, fresh and a possessor of a heal the world mentality, I was ready to inspire my children to dream and chase down their biggest goals.

What I did not anticipate was how much they would inspire me. Originally trained not to show emotion as an educator, there were quite a few times I shed tears that academic year: tears of joy, sadness, frustration, and confusion. Some I couldn’t help but share in front of my pupils, too.

One such student was Zachary Brooks. A handsome fellow, with dark hair, light skin and hazel eyes, he walked with a bounce in his step, had a slightly raspy voice, and was quite the charmer. He also possessed an old soul, which I appreciated (takes one to know one), and we talked all things Rolling Stones, books, life and even The Wiggles (who remembers the “Fruit Salad” song?).

That class was nothing short of magical. I managed to choke out a graduation talk, in between sobbing, on the last day of school. Single and away from family in the state of Iowa, those children were mine. The thought of them moving on to another school was painful. Because of the stage of life I was in, I gave them everything: all my time, love, attention, affection and energy.

The Reunion

Zach Brooks (to my right and your left), and another beloved student from my first class, Michael.

My family and I decided recently it was time to introduce our children to Iowa. Thus, in February, we all boarded a plane and enjoyed a week in the Midwest. Prior to our departure, I posted an all-call on Facebook, inviting friends and former students in the Des Moines area to drop by a small reception a dear friend was hosting for us. Zach was one of the first to respond. “Boom!” he wrote, “count me in.”

He showed up with a cake, some of the best beer in Iowa, a book and a card. I wouldn’t open the card for a couple of days. After tucking the children in for the evening, I sat on the edge of an antique bed in the master bedroom of our AirBnB, and read the following:

Mrs. GH,

First things first, I’m not sure my handwriting has improved much since the 5th grade. Heads up!

When I think back to past educators, mentors and individuals who helped influence my life, very very few had your level of impact.

It’s hard to believe that I can recall so many memories from when I was ten (that was 13 years ago, by the way), but over these past few days, I’ve been able to identify a number of conversations and events from that school year that I’ll never forget.

Whether it was invading Southridge Movie Theater for an early viewing of The Chronicles of Narnia, learning what the word “zany” meant, attempting to bust into a pack of fruit snacks during the ITBS, or the incredible amount of LOVE you had for each and every one of us; all of those thoughts flood my memory with ease.

What an honor it was to be part of your very first class EVER! Thank you for going above and beyond. You’re the G.O.A.T. (Greatest of All Time)! Your favorite “Rolling Stoner,” -Zachary Brooks

In the End
 
When I’ve done public speaking gigs to encourage educators, I try to remind them that we have the best job in the world! We can make a rap sheet of why it’s difficult, and argue about how we’re underpaid and unappreciated, but too many have already written and spoken about that.

Bottom line: what we do matters. Few other careers have the potential to inspire whole generations like we do. These two stories I shared belong to a collection engrained in my memory and heart (and sometimes, my computer). I know I’m not alone. So teachers, thank you. Keep fighting the good fight, and please, enjoy summer break!

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Behind the Scenes: Stories by the Seashore

My book, Stories by the Seashore, has been on the market for a little over a week now. I am honored by the support you all have shown: from liking my author page to sharing links, writing reviews and purchasing and reading my stories. Thank you so much!

Within a few days of my book release, I had three people approach me on different occasions and tell me that they, too, would like to write a book one day. Thus, here are my top five steps for making that dream a published reality!

1. Eliminate distractions

I was inspired to write my first book in December of 2017. I decided, shortly thereafter, that if I was serious about accomplishing this goal, I had to get rid of major distractions. In January of 2018, I quit social media cold-turkey (Facebook and Instagram, my main vices).

I didn’t announce it, so some wondered if something happened. I was off of Instagram for about 6 months, and Facebook for 10. It was a rewarding, peaceful time, with those extra, weekly hours going towards my book. Looking back, I have absolutely no regrets.

2. Time is on your side

When I began working on my 40-day devotional in December of 2017, I told myself it would take me a year to complete it—the book would be edited, published and put on the market by December 2018!

Christmas-time rolled around, and I realized that was not a realistic deadline. While I was finished with all 40 entries at the beginning of the month, I still had not sent them to an editor or thought about the book cover. If it was going to be a work of excellence, I needed more time. Ultimately, it was ready and available for purchase on Monday, March 25, 2019.

3. Get help

Those that have gone before you are your friends. Reach out to people that are already published. A cousin through marriage, Sonya, was a lifesaver! She literally saved me thousands of dollars. An author of a couple of books, she told me self-publishing (through Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing) was the way to go! (I had researched going through various publishing houses, too.)

She also encouraged me along the way, and reminded me that my book was meant to be read. She went above and beyond, periodically checking in on my progress. “How’s your book coming along?” she’d ask, “I can’t wait to read it!”

4. Find an editor

I cannot stress this point enough. As a writer, I am constantly rereading and editing my work. I call my husband, a voracious reader and excellent writer, my first editor.

We knew this project was big and important enough to merit a professional editor. I had previous writing project experiences where I enjoyed being edited, and others where an editor stripped me of my voice, resulting in my entry sounding quite different.

Sonya reassured me that this was part of the process each time. I was delighted when my highly-qualified editor, Luci, made me sound superb while keeping the overall feel and tone of the book.

Editors make us look good! We would be lost without them.

5. Let go of perfection

That was a difficult phrase for me to write. Once my husband uploaded the manuscript onto Kindle Direct’s program, we constantly went over the entries, introductions, and acknowledgments, tweaking parts each time. We took turns feeling frustrated and wanting to pull our hair out!

We had to get to the point where we said, “We’ve (our whole team) all done our best. It’s ready.” I would like to say this resulted in an absolutely perfect book, but it did not. It is, however, a good book.

Overall, I found self-publishing to be a user-friendly experience as a first-time author. I could not have done it without help, though! If you, too, have a dream to write a book one day, my question for you is, “How can I help?”

Here is the link for my book, Stories by the Seashore.

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The Epitome of a Ninja

In February 2017, my son and I walked into Galvan’s Martial Arts for the first time. They were hosting a free Anti-Bullying Seminar, and I took the opportunity to take my then 5-year-old oldest child on a date. He participated in the self-defense seminar and gushed about the “Ninja Turtle Weapons” (translation: nunchucks, swords, kamas and bo staffs…) displayed on the wall. Typically quite reserved, he had a huge smile on his face the entire time. At the end of our date, he looked at me, and said, “I want to do Taekwondo.” Two years later, he has not lost his passion or drive in studying martial arts.

Run by Emmanuel “Manny” and Martha Galvan, 5th degree and 2nddegree black belts in Taekwondo, respectively, Galvan’s is a medium-sized mixed martial arts school in Brownsville, Texas, that also offers classes in Brazilian Jiu-jitsu and Muay Thai Kickboxing. A self-defense student since the age of 3, Mr. Galvan grew up studying the martial arts along with his older and younger brothers.

A lover of stories, Galvan remembers taking an aptitude test in high school. “Every answer I gave, at the end said: You should look into being a Martial Arts instructor,”he continued, “If you do not know martial arts, start doing it now.”

Master Manny, Martha and Alex with Jack at a previous test day.

Martha adds, “When we did start at the beginning, our old school was really small, and it had a window. Meme (the oldest Galvan brother) and Manny were the head instructors,”she smiled, “and Alex (the youngest Galvan), my little sister and I would line up in the front (of the window) as students until we started filling up the school.”She added with a chuckle,“Everyone would come in and we would ask, ‘Oh, how did you hear about us?!’”

Together for more than half of their lives, the Galvan’s display true partnership on and off the mat. As a parent and educator, I am impressed by the discipline displayed by all the students in class, and the ease and organization with which the school is run.

A traditional firstborn, our son toes the line, but if reinforcement is ever needed, all I have to do is say, “Maybe I should talk to Coach Manny. . .”And it is met with a desperate cry of, “No, no!”I know I am not alone in this as a parent.

When we first enrolled Jack at Galvan’s, there was a questionnaire that asked which skill (of those listed) we wanted him to gain. My husband and I quickly agreed: confidence. Comparing our current 7-year-old to a then 5-year-old that started, in many ways, is like looking at another little boy altogether. Where he was slightly cluttered and disorganized, he now keeps a clean bedroom. Where he was nervous and shy, he now takes more initiative and is brave. Teachers at his school have also taken note, sharing fun stories with us.

My husband and I attended our first ultimate fighting party in December with some friends. One of our buddies, Chris, and a guest, both martial arts students, kept swapping stories about a local legend. We listened intently, eyes wide and mouths agape. “Who could this person be?” I thought to myself.

Tales of a man taking down opponents with a single kick or hand strike were swapped. It wasn’t until later in the evening that it was revealed: the person they were talking about was Manny Galvan, our son’s head instructor.

“You would have never guessed, right?” Chris continued, reacting to my face, “he doesn’t go around bragging about how good he is or how everyone is afraid to fight him. He’s humble. He’s the epitome of a ninja.” 

As the African proverb states, “It takes a village to raise a child.” I am forever thankful that Galvan’s Martial Arts is part of our village.

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How Giana Got Her Grin Back

When I was in the 5th grade, I had a crush on a boy with the longest and curliest eyelashes I have ever seen. A couple of girlfriends approached him and asked if he liked me. He confirmed that yes, in fact, he did like me, but he did not like my teeth or my laugh. As someone who has been fond of laughter since birth, his comments crushed me. They did not, however, keep me from smiling. Our relationship was short-lived.

I wore braces for two years as an adolescent, crossing the US-Mexico border with my mom each month to receive tightening. Orthodontics were much more affordable in Mexico, and I grew up frequenting Brownsville’s sister city, Matamoros, when needed. The result: near perfect teeth! (See photo on right.)

I wore my retainer religiously for many years, and then lost it! I became pregnant soon after with my first child, and did not feel comfortable crossing the border to visit my orthodontist as I did in my younger years. Over time (10 years), my teeth began to shift. (See photo on left.) Three children later, I was finally ready to do something about it. Insert: Smile Direct Club!

Smile Direct uses invisible aligners (see photo on right) to put your teeth back in order! I love that you can’t tell I’m wearing them! I was surprised at how gentle the process has been (it takes 6 months, on average, from start to finish). Of course, there is some discomfort since your choppers are being relocated, but it was nothing Ibuprofen couldn’t handle in my case.

The company had everything I was looking for: affordability ($80 per month-roughly $2,000 overall), versatility (you take off the invisible aligners every time you eat) and legitimacy (I read countless success stories online).

While I cannot speak for what the process would be like for someone that did not wear braces as a child, this process has been much easier than the two years I endured metal and rubber bands on my teeth.

You receive all of the aligners upfront, once you are approved. The process of being accepted involves taking two molds of your teeth and sending in those samples. The step-by-step process is user friendly, and you need the help of one other person to complete it. After that, a state certified orthodontist and dentist work closely at personalizing your aligners! That’s it!

If you have been wanting to take the plunge but have been hesitant due to lack of information, please direct any questions or inquiries to me! I officially became an ambassador last semester (which sounds fancy, but simply means I can represent our product).

If you are ready to begin your journey, click here.

I would love to help you get the smile you’ve been dreaming of!

P.S. I would have totally rocked the gap had I not found Smile Direct!

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VIPKID: My Year in a Nutshell

Last month, I celebrated one year of working with VIPKID!  13 months in, I still feel like I landed my dream job!  Below, you will find a quick explanation of what our company is, a series of highlights from my job, and why you, too, should join VIPKID.

VIPKID is a Chinese company that hires teachers to teach ESL to students.  Though it originally started in China, we employ teachers all over the world (more than 40,000 presently!).  We also have young participants from other countries.  Most of us work part-time, earning anywhere between $14-$22 an hour with added incentives (for showing up on time and ending class on time, etc).

Though I was originally hired to teach one-on-one, the other opportunities I was given were nothing short of life-changing!  Through our company, I applied for the Jack Ma Project, a sister organization that helps bring educational resources to the rural areas of China.  With VIPKID, most of our students live in large cities and have access to technological resources.  Some of the pupils in our rural projects live in mountainous areas and walk a couple of hours to get to school (see video of my precious Jack Ma students below).

Our community and leaders are constantly working to improve the experience on both ends, for the educators and the educated.  Occasionally we are sent updates that include new ways to work for the company.  I seized one months into being employed, and my husband and I went on to make a series of educational videos for VIPKID.  I enjoy teaching, my husband likes filming, and we were paid to boot!

The bonds I have formed with my students and their parents is a pleasant surprise.  I was not sure how that was going to work with the distance.   As it turns out, certain themes, like love, are universal.  Bonuses have included:  international friendships for my children, my multitalented students making great connections, and the use of fun props (see photos).
If you are interested in applying for VIPKID, please click here (requirements are a 4-year degree in any field and teaching experience).  I have successfully referred 7 other teachers and would love to add you to the list!  Come help us, “change lives without uprooting your own.”

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Playgrounds, Friendships and Wonder Woman

30 May 2017

I was using the restroom in the London Heathrow Airport when I was reminded of just how loud my two older children can get when playing together.  About 20 yards away sat two soft playgrounds, adjacent to one another.

The one on the left was for littles aged 0-2 years old, the one on the right for ages 3-10.  Both were filled with bright, primary colored toys, slides and ladders.  It was a welcome respite after walking through London that day and finding no play areas, and having three more hours of our layover left before heading to Germany.

We had already experienced British customs twice with our three offspring, ages 5 and under, in tow.  It was eerily quiet in the 30-minute (at the very least) line upon entering and exiting the country.  It was blatantly obvious, to me, that we are not British.  (Our children actually did a spectacular job of “keeping it down” during this part of the journey).

“Ahhhhhh, here comes the bad guy!!!” I heard my son and daughter alternatively yelling, their voices echoing down to where I was washing my hands.  My heart raced inside my chest.  My two oldest children were surrounded by a handful of tykes from around the world.  “Oh no, who are they calling ‘bad guy’?!”  my mind raced, feeling mom-guilt over not teaching them enough about diversity.  Our city of residence, Brownsville, is about 96% Latino, and we are in the majority.

I walked by and saw that the roles had been reversed.  I saw the most precious, little African girl running from my tots.  “Oh no, the bad guys!” she screamed, while my two ran towards her, also chasing a couple of Arabic boys, all squealing in delight.  I smiled and laughed (while simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief).  It was a vision I won’t soon forget.  “What happens to us when we become adults?” I was left pondering.

I have been blessed with deep friendships and relationships over the course of my lifetime.  There was a season when the thought of intimacy with other people freaked me out.  They were just so… messy.  Now, it’s how I choose to live my life, with others.

I enjoy going there with folks.  Not in ways that are inappropriate, but in ways in which our souls connect and we share things that are important.  In fact, though I hesitate to write this, friendships where the realness is not reciprocated do not last in my book.  While one can have many acquaintances, they can only have so many friends.

So here’s to those that have walked with me thus far and will continue to, and new allies I will meet in the future.  Here’s to not jumping ship when they demand much of me, inconvenience me and drive me batty.  Here’s to unconditional love, unwavering support, occasional discomfort and plenty of fun!

Perhaps one day I will have the privilege of loving people the whole world over. Until then, I’m going to practice loving my part of the world well.

I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but when I watch epic movies (read:  Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter) I find myself, as a strong female, relating more to the male characters.  Swept up in the battles between good and evil, I envision myself as Aragorn (also know as Strider), a fierce and fearless, yet humble, leader.  I once took a Which Harry Potter Character Are You? quiz and got Mrs. Weasley as my result.  I was severely disappointed.  Nevermind that, though.

I went into Wonder Woman with an open mind.  I had heard and read fantastic peer reviews over it.  Truthfully, I was blown away.  It is an excellent movie.  At the end of the film, I left triumphant, thinking, “Finally, a heroine I want to be.”  I was particularly surprised by the spiritual parallels (which I love) that stood out to me.

<<<SPOILER ALERT>>>

Wonder Woman’s main quest is to find Ares (the God of War) and kill him.  In her mind, once she does this, it will end all wars between mankind.  While she succeeds in her goal, she finds the result is not what she expected.  Towards the end of the movie, her love, Steve Trevor, sacrifices himself for the greater good.  Shortly after, in the final showdown between her and Ares, their conversation is as follows:

Ares (also known as Sir Patrick) to Wonder Woman:  Destroy her, Diana (referring to Dr. Poison, the inventor of a poisonous gas that has killed many).  You know that she deserves it.  They all do.

Diana (also known as Wonder Woman) to Ares:  They’re everything you say, but so much more… You’re wrong about them.  Ultimately, she does not kill Dr. Poison.

And this final gem, at the conclusion:  It’s not about what you deserve.  It’s about what you believe, and I believe in love.  I used to want to save the world…to bring peace.  I learned within them [humans] there was both [light and dark], a choice.  And now I know that only love can truly change the world.  So, I stay, I fight and I give.

To all that I say, Amen!

 

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The Secret Annex

It was the 2006-2007 school year that I taught one of my greatest literary lessons.  As a 5th grade teacher, I had the task of picking out class sets of books for the children to read.  When I taught in Iowa, there was much freedom in planning and helping my students make text-to-self and text-to-world connections.  Some of my favorite memories include reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Bridge to Terabithia and taking my pupils on field trips to watch the movies in the theaters.

In our library that year, I stumbled across a modified version of Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl.  It contained photos and plenty of excerpts and passages from her book.  In my years of being in the classroom, I often saw that my scholars struggled with reading nonfiction.  They were certainly capable; they were simply not interested.  Thus, I set out to inspire them with this real story I knew most had heard about.

2 June 2017

My husband and I stood in line for an hour.  We made friends with the people standing beside us; two young Latinos on a European adventure in front of us, and a Chinese-American family behind us.  From the outside, the Anne Frank House and Museum stands five stories high and looks like a typical flat.  I chatter away and glance at it on occasion, unsure of how I will react once inside.

We pay the fee at the entrance and immediately see the sign: No photography or video recordings of any kind.  I quickly stuff my Nikon in my backpack and proceed.

I refer to the two years I taught at McKinley Elementary in Des Moines as the “honeymoon period” in my educational career.  This next story is the icing on that cake.  The 5th graders thoroughly enjoyed reading The Diary of a Young Girl, and participated in great class discussions and activities.  Thanks to visiting a local Holocaust Remembrance event held at one of the synagogues, we dug even deeper into the issues of social injustice.

As I was researching on the internet one evening, I came across a newspaper article that mentioned a former World War II soldier that served in the Liberation Army would be in town.  He was going to pick one school within the Des Moines Public School System to share his story.  Interested parties need only apply.  I quickly got to work and presented our case.  This would be the capstone on our most recent literary lesson; history would come to life before our very eyes!

The whole day my husband and I spent in Amsterdam, the line for the Anne Frank museum extended outside, wrapped around the building and continued for a few more blocks.  Once inside, it was completely quiet, save for the audio tour we listened to on headphones.  We walked through slowly, taking every part in.  Black and white familiar photos and quotes lined the walls.  In each room, there was a video recording of those who knew Annelies best.  Close friends, neighbors and a video recording of her father, Otto Frank, the only familial survivor of the Holocaust, at the very end.

About 3/4 of the way through the tour, the audio recording turned off completely, because we would walk behind the bookshelf to what was the Frank family’s (along with two other families) hiding place for two years.  Up until that point, I had a mix of emotions:  wonder, awe, heaviness, acute awareness.  As soon as I took the steps up to the hiding place, everything in me went silent.  The dark rooms with the wooden floors and scantily decorated walls proved too much to bear.  My vision blurred as I began brushing tears off my cheeks.  They would not stop falling…

The children were fully attentive while the WWII soldier that helped liberate a couple of the concentration camps told his story.  “I’ll never forget that smell.  It was the smell of burned flesh because so many people had been killed,” he shared through tearstained eyes.  “It was pure evil, and I will never forget what I saw,” he said.

My pupils listened, eyes wide with understanding.  They knew the evils he spoke of.  They had read about them and seen photos.  One by one, we shook hands with the hero, and thanked him for his service, and for coming to share his story with us.  As he, his wife and son left our room, his wife leaned over and whispered, “We picked your class because we knew it would mean the most to you all.”  It was a literary lesson none of us would ever forget.

As we made our way through the secret annex, I envisioned my three children living there, being forced to be quiet, and not allowed to go outside or use running water during the day, for fear of being caught.  I thought of my husband, and what would have become of him, had he tried everything in his power to protect us and not been able to.  My heart literally ached at the end of the story I already knew.

To conclude our journey, we sat in a room where Anne’s surviving friends, and current authors, diplomats and celebrities, thanked her in recorded messages.  Hers was not ultimately a story of despair, but of triumph and hope.  You left feeling, much like after you’ve read her book, like you knew her, like she was your friend, or daughter, or sister.

While my family and I vacationed overseas, there was another act of terror committed in London, the city we had just frequented one week prior.  Loved ones messaged us (we were in Germany at the time) to make sure we were safe.  We did not envision taking our children on an overseas trip at such young ages, but when the opportunity presented itself, we could not turn it down.

We had good, hard discussions with them about how the world contains much beauty and is meant to be explored.  We were also honest about how there are people who do evil, and might want to hurt us because of the country we live in, our faith, or any other reason they might find.  We want them, like us, to be cautious and aware at all times, but unafraid.

I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity we had to visit Anne Frank’s house.  I am still processing and wrapping my mind around all that it means for me personally.  Presently, I am greatly inspired and will continue to write, teach and travel when I can.  And I think of Anne.  She gave me the best text-to-self and text-to-world connections I could ever hope to have.

The day the soldier came to visit us…

 

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A Lesson in Puking

It was a couple of days ago, when my oldest daughter was struggling with a stomach bug, that the veil was removed.  Her body was telling her to throw up, but she refused.  My husband and I sat ready to catch whatever came out, bucket in hand, towel ready.  Her small, fevered body was so fatigued that she fell asleep in between the urges to vomit.

“Ceci, I know you don’t want to throw up.  No one likes to.  But you will feel so much better if you do,” I told her gently, “just let go…”

“No, I don’t want to!” she cried in agony, her frame completely tense.

We felt helpless and prayed for it to pass.

My beautiful, spirited oldest daughter.

In between those sessions, I observed her and felt equally defeated and amazed.  It was my first time seeing someone will away the urge to throw up.  Everything was physically telling her to regurgitate, but she had made up her mind she was not going to.  The mind is a powerful thing.

Cecily is lovely and incredibly spirited.    There have been times when people have asked, “Is she your strong-willed child?”  I gently correct them and say, “She is spirited,” with a smile.

Perhaps the terms are synonymous, but strong-willed has received a bad rap over the years.  It implies that there is something inherently wrong with a tyke when they are referred to in such a way.  On the contrary, I admire my daughter’s spirit.  Do I pray that we can successfully guide it over the years?  Absolutely.  But to try to take it away, or “tame” it, would be to remove a key part of her:  her passion.

As a Mexican-American child growing up on the border, I saw the resplendent, hard and displeasing parts of our culture.  I was blessed to see many examples of family members and friends offering the shirt off their backs to help someone out, deeply ingrained lessons that will never leave me.  I also observed, however, that when those same people who were eager to help experienced tumultuous times themselves, they seldom, if ever, asked for assistance.

Thus, both illustrations became significant patches woven into the fabric of my soul.  Unbeknownst to some, I am an unbelievably proud person.  By proud, I do not mean arrogant or boastful.  The Thesaurus lists one description as, “preservation of one’s dignity.”  Bingo.  Guilty.

Every couple of years, I find myself lying face-down in the dirt, in absolute need of someone to come to my rescue.  And I hate it.  Each time, I cry out to the Lord with a sincere heart, saying, “I have really learned my lesson this time.  I do not want to be humbled in this way again.”  

And I’m “fine”—until it happens again.

Ceci never did throw-up that evening, or after that.  Not once.  As I sat there watching her, my lesson was clear.  This is exactly how I deal with things on occasion, making them more difficult than they need to be.  All the while, the Lord gently leads me, as if to say, “Giana!  Just let go…”

“But I can’t!”  I scream, fists and jaw clenched, unwilling to surrender all things to Him.

I made up my mind that night that I’m going to be better.  I am an example for my children in how they should handle life, and not only when things are going their way.  Here’s to asking for help when I need it, and gladly accepting when it’s offered!

(By the way, I completely blame my husband for the strong resemblance between my oldest daughter and me.  When I was pregnant with her, he continually prayed for a little girl, “just like Giana”).

“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” – James 4:6

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Emily Post’s Rules for Politics

Okay, really they’re mine.  As a young participant in the Lower Valley Cotillion Club, I was given the charge to read Emily Post’s Rules for Teen Etiquette.  I have wondered recently, what she would have to say during this election season.

We are at the tail end of what has been a historically heated period.  I have mostly been a quiet observer via social media, with my mother’s sound advice to me as an adolescent constantly at the back of my mind, “Don’t discuss religion and politics with people.”  Certainly, I am thankful to have heeded such advice, especially with the potential of my words living on forever in cyberspace.

Below, I have listed a handful things we can all do instead of firing off at one another with the touch of a screen.

1.  Be thankful.
Give thanks that we live in a democracy where we have a say in who leads it.  Be grateful for our freedoms and not constantly living in fear.  While it can be argued that we have a long way to go in certain areas, a quick look at our brief history will show that we have, indeed, made significant progress as a nation overall.  Not all countries in the world offer the same privileges to their citizens.

2.  Take the conversation offline.
I have yet to meet someone whose mind was changed based on a Facebook post or Tweet.  Might I recommend that online venues are not the best place to discuss such matters?  I mean, God forbid that you meet with someone over coffee and talk face to face, right?  And if it is a person you don’t see eye to eye with, it can be downright frightening!  There’s something about hiding behind a screen that makes us more bold.  I would also interject that the goal of such conversations should not be to change the other person’s mind, rather to help them understand your point of view and vice-versa.

3.  Go VOTE.
Whatever your politics, if you sit this one out, you have forfeited your right to complain.  You may feel especially passionate about a particular candidate, or you may detest them all.  Either way, this is the most powerful move for your voice to be heard.  Also, you have every right to keep mum about who you support.  It’s not necessary to let everyone know who you voted for. (That’s why it’s a secret ballot!)  Frankly, most won’t care.

4.  Pray.
“Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land.” -2 Chronicles 7:14

Please do not misunderstand this post.  I am not saying that posting articles in support of your candidate or their policies is inherently bad.  I am gently suggesting that arguing online over the nominees and issues does not get you (or them) anywhere.

I look forward to the morning of November 9th, when my Newsfeed will (hopefully) be filled once again with photos of families, events and accomplishments.  On really hard days, I even miss selfies and gym posts.