Isaiah

Once in a while, on the trains of Hong Kong, you will see a young person offer his or her seat on the bus or train to a senior citizen. There are mini-posters on the trains encouraging you to do so.

What you will never see in Hong Kong is an older person offer up his seat to a young person.
That is off course unless you are riding the train with Isaiah.

When I am out in public, I like to watch people. I like to gauge their response to the presence of non-Asian people in their midst. But to be honest, the presence of me, my family, or our friends does not really garner much of a reaction.

That is of course unless you are riding the bus with Isaiah.

Isaiah is our next-door neighbor. He’s five. I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is, Isaiah definitely has it. Granted the kid is cute, but there is something more than that going on here. He has some sort of freaky magnetism.

The people on the streets of Hong Kong go crazy over him. They stare at him, they smile at him, they point him out to the people they are with. It’s really something to watch.

No lie, yesterday he was standing in the aisle of a crowded bus so he was more or less at eye level with the old man in the seat next to him. The old man was looking at him (no surprise there), but when Isaiah made eye contact, the old man actually half-stood up and offered his seat to the five-year-old.

Unbelievable.

My friends –Isaiah’s parents- deny it, but I am convinced that when they go places they get in at no charge and people on the street just hand them stuff for free.

Last weekend, I had to get a phone bill straightened out and I wanted to talk my way into a basketball league that was already full. I asked my friends if I could borrow Isaiah for a couple of hours. I promised them that I would bring him right back.

If I could bottle whatever it is the kid has, we could all grow rich.

-Jack

(posted with permission)

Wearing His Uncles Jersey

I don’t remember the first day of my first year of teaching. But I do remember the first day of my second year of teacher. I remember walking down the halls and thinking “Oh yeah, former students. This is cool.”

It seems obvious now, but I was so busy getting geared up for the new school year that I forgot to realize that I would have the joy of seeing my former students in the halls and in the cafeteria throughout the year.

But even better than seeing my former students return three months later, is being able to keep in contact with them over the years. You get to find out that -yes, they do in fact eventually grow up. (Because to be honest, when I have them in class, there are always a few that I worry about.)

But sometimes I don’t have to wait until they come back from college to see the growth. Sometimes the maturation seems to happen virtually overnight.

Nick was out last Monday. Sadly, he had to attend the funeral of his thirty-something-year-old uncle. His mom emailed me to give me the heads up regarding Nick’s absence. When I e-mailed my condolences to her on the loss of her brother, I received the following email back from her several days after the funeral.

Nick is thirteen.

(reprinted with permission)

“The service was amazing. Over 250 people attended live, and more via webcast. Nick read a speech written by my brother's best friend from high school. Nick was so composed and delivered the message so well. Everyone, surely including his beloved uncle, was very proud of him."

“Did he tell you my brother had his own basketball team -"Poison Dragon"- and the team plays in a local league? My brother was supposed to lead the team in its 4th game this past Saturday night, the night of his wake. Nick asked if he could play. He did, wearing my brother's jersey, and Nick even scored! All the other players -my brother's 30-something buddies- said Nick held his own and played a solid game."

"Nick has learned so much about my brother through interacting with and hearing stories about him from his friends; stories about love, friendship, loyalty, hard work, determination, selflessness, giving, encouragement, leadership, confidence, perseverance, and right vs. wrong.”

“I have seen a remarkable change and maturation in Nick this past week. It's like he has snapped out of his ‘teenager angst’ and ‘me, myself, I’ mode into a much more considerate and compassionate person. I always knew that those qualities were in him, but it's as if he had chosen to hide them. Now they have been ‘activated’ and I pray that he will use them consistently and constantly.”

“Thank you and blessings. Ronna"

Nick, I am sorry once again for your loss. I am proud to be your teacher.

Treason on the High Seas part 3 of 3

I almost took a personal day on Monday so that I wouldn’t have to face the inevitable.

It has not been a good day to be me.

First, while I was in my small eighth-grade team meeting, I had a steady stream of my fellow crew members dropping by to see how I was faring. It was like a trail of well-wishers at a funeral parlor. Just to add insult to injury, Steve dropped off the sweatshirt that every participant in the race gets. (Yeah, like I’m ever going to be able to wear that in public.)

Apparently, word of my misadventures had spread near and far. I have colleagues who didn’t even know that I was going to be participating in the Four Peaks Race slapping me on my back, giving me a smirk and a knowing head shake. Rumor has it there is even video footage circulating of me doubled over the edge of the boat. (Darn those ubiquitous i-phones!)

Even my headmaster had heard and couldn’t resist the opportunity to give me a hard time. (Just remember this people when my contract is up and you all want me to sign up for another two years. I may have the stomach of a newborn, but I have the memory of an elephant.)

Sunday at lunch, I tried to man-up and put a positive spin on this for my daughters’ sake. We have a book on the shelf at home called “Do Hard Things.” I told my girls that I had no regrets. It’s better to have tried and failed miserably, than not to have tried at all.

Now if only I could get myself to believe that.

I am so glad to be off that stinking boat.

-Jack

Treason on the High Seas part 2 of 3

I’ve spent plenty of time on boats, but, we were dealing with seven, eight, nine-foot swells. Michael got sick first, which was good, because I was able to study his technique on how to lean over the edge of the sailboat without falling in. When Michael pulled himself back in and the color started to come back into his face, I knew that it was only a matter of time. I nonchalantly raised my hand and said “I got next.” I may be starting on a slow descent toward sure death, but at least I still had my sense of humor. My sense of humor was about to make a quick exit. Sure enough, ten minutes later, it was mine turn. For the next two hours, Michael and I took turns being landlubbers. He took port. I took starboard.

Daughin is actually a pretty good guitar player. He had perched himself on top of the cabin –how he managed to stay put amidst those big swells, I will never know- and started to strum away. He played a blues riff. It was pretty good; for a while there, I thought we had B.B. King onboard. So while I was leaning over the edge of the boat, crying for my momma like a school girl, I had Daughin in the background singing with great gusto his improvised blues tune to which the chorus was “I got the Koala Pukin’ Blues.” If I hadn’t been busy contemplating whether or not to simply throw myself in the sea and end it all, I might have been able to see the humor in it. Everybody else on board seemed to.

So in this 24-hour sailing and foot race, I lasted just over six hours. We didn’t even make it to the first scheduled stop. Steve made an unscheduled stop at the Clearwater Bay marina so that all of us could get off the ocean, settle our stomachs, and ready ourselves to push on. But I knew that once I got off that boat, there was no way in heck I was getting back on that thing; not for love or money.

The guys had mercy on me and graciously let me bow out. They called me a taxi. Ninety minutes later, wet, tired and nauseous, I was knocking on my apartment door wanting my family to let me in. I was hoping to return the conquering seafarer. Instead, I was returning the defeated puke-meister who just wanted a hot shower and to crawl into bed.

The worst part is that the race requires teams to finish with all the people that they started with, so when I bailed, it effectively disqualified “The Koala” from the race.

Knowing that they were no longer in the running, the rest of the crew was demoralized. Things quickly fell apart. Now that I had taken the brunt of the shame, Michael decided that he too would bow out. And Brendon, our one highschooler on board decided that –now that he thought about it- he had a lot of homework to do. Our seven-man crew was now down to four guys and a guitar. They got back to port at midnight having not attempted a single climb on any of the peaks.

There was going to be heck to pay back at school on Monday.

-Jack

Michael

Treason on the High Seas part 1 of 3

Beware the colleague who starts a Monday morning conversation with “Hey, you look like a sailor.”

We are here in Hong Kong to experience new things, so when opportunities come along, I‘m inclined to say yes. I probably should have asked a few more clarifying questions before I signed on. I began second-guessing my decision when I started mentioning to various guys at work that I was doing the “Four Peak Race.” They would just laugh and walk away.

Michael hadn’t made it sound like that big of a deal. Sure it was 24 hours. Sure we were supposed to stop at four different locations and hike (okay, run) up four daunting peaks. But it sounded like fun. Right? Daughin was going to be bringing his guitar. We would be cooking all our meals on board the boat. We would be sailing with seven of us total, so we could alternate sailing the boat and sleeping in the cabin. Me, the fellas, a boat, and the open seas. What’s there not to like?

My co-workers in the Middle School were actually really helpful (once they got done laughing, that is). One guy loaned me a head lamp for the night runs. Another guy loaned me water proof shoes. A third guy loaned me long-johns and wool socks. They were being so helpful that I was beginning to think they had formed a lets-do-what-we-can-to bring-Jack-back-home-alive committee.

Steve has owned his boat “The Koala” for twenty years. When he first bought it as a young school teacher here in Hong Kong, he actually lived on it for several years. The school at which he taught at that time was on the coast, and there were times when he would actually sail to school.

“The Koala” is fifty years old. It was built here in Hong Kong based on plans by a famed British boat designer. It is all wood including the boom.

The Four Peak race works with a handicapping system based a boat’s past performance, but none-the-less, we were a long shot. We would be sailing in a boat that somehow managed to be both the smallest and the heaviest boat in the race. Needless to say, we were also sailing in the oldest boat.

Everything was great for the first couple of hours.

-Jack