Now that I’ve officially made it through my first school year at French International School of Beijing (LFIP), as a foreigner with no real French connections, I realize that in all actuality, I do actually have connections! It’s a journey I look back at with a nostalgic smile, remembering how terrified I was walking through the gates on that first day. Then feeling proud of myself when I walked out ten months later, with a much stronger understanding of the French language and culture. Nevertheless, these ten months were filled with struggles and triumphs, late-night laughs with friends, and rant sessions that have been sworn to secrecy. This past year has been amazing, but there are five things that I wish I had known before I stepped onto LFIP’s campus.

1. The French value their time away from work

This is somewhat of a double-edged sword. On one hand, the world needs to learn from the French, that “it’s time to take some time off work!” and talk about something else. But on the other hand, for workaholics like me who have grown up hustling, when you want to reach anyone on weekends or on vacation, it’s a ghost town. It was very frustrating, but as I immersed myself more in the French environment, I began to appreciate this sort of “slow down and have a glass of wine” way of life, even if it’s something I don’t think I could adopt in the long term.

2. The French speak French…Until they don’t

I walked into the French school having finished Third Year French at my previous school, which should have equipped me with the necessary tools to understand what was going on at LFIP, right? Nope! Because French kids may speak French, but it’s not entirely French. What I mean by that is, technically they’re speaking the French language, but much like any other culture, every other word is slang. How am I supposed to understand anything if the majority of it wasn’t covered in my Third Year French class? For the first few weeks, my classmates spoke French to me at what seemed like 60 miles per hour, and I just stood there, already too lost to catch up. I did somehow get the grade to speak English to me though, but that’s a story for another time…

3. Doing things the “French Way”

Remember all those problems in math class that call for three different types of solutions, and you scratched your head in confusion? Or when you just couldn’t nail down a thesis for your history paper because there were simply too many things to write about? Well, here, at LFIP, that’s not a problem – there’s only one way. It’s the “French Way.” For math, I clung to my American and Chinese methods like they were my lifeline, and in history, I often broke free from the structures that were given. I struggled to let that go, but at this school, adapting to its methods proved to be useful – it did get me the grades.

4. School ends at 5.30pm for high schoolers

I had walked into LFIP expecting to take the bus home at 3.30pm, as I’d done during my time at International School of Beijing (ISB). Turns out, classes for high schoolers end at 5.30pm. Thus, no extracurriculars. I remember struggling to stay attentive during afternoon classes for a good portion of the year, knowing that from the minute the clock strikes 2.30pm, there would be four more hours to go. However, there was one redeeming quality: because school ends so late, there’s significantly less homework each night. Now that I’m looking back, those extra two hours a day gave me so much more time with the people I know I’ll miss terribly.

5. Some teachers will go the extra mile for their students

This saved me at LFIP, quite literally, especially during the first half of the year, when I was struggling to adjust and some teachers went out of their way to make me feel supported. I just wish I had known it all before the first day. At any rate, around mid-November, I was experimenting with scriptwriting and my English literature teacher took time out of his lunch hour, plus hours over the weekends, to help me refine my work. When I had mock trial competitions, my history teachers supported me with any resources that they had, sometimes sacrificing parts of their lunch hours and breaks to discuss with me. This level of dedication and passion really made a difference in my experience at the French school, one I’ll always be grateful for.

So, for anyone who’s planning to start at LFIP (especially those who don’t really speak French), it can be particularly daunting, however, at the end of the day the students and teachers are incredibly supportive. There will be struggles and there will be times when you just feel like staying home and skipping school, but hopefully, these five tips will help you survive and get a sneak peek into the school life of LFIP students.

KEEP READING: I Hate to Admit It, But My Mom Was Right About the French School

Images: Emily Hellqvist

Sponsored by Yew Chung International School of Beijing (

On June 3^rd, YCIS Beijing’s Class of 2015 graduated and will now move on to study at universities across the world. One graduate, Nathan Drisner from Canada, who will be studying Criminolgy at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver next year has shared his thoughts on his experience at YCIS Beijing and the his thoughts about the IB Diploma Programme.

I’m very excited about graduating from YCIS Beijing. While I’m going to miss my friends and teachers, along with Beijing but I’m really looking forward to this next phase in my life, going out on my own, and taking on new challenges.

I’ve been at YCIS Beijing for 6 years in total. It is a slightly smaller school in terms of size, and that’s what I love about it. While it’s not too small, meaning I have many different opportunities available for getting involved in a variety of activities, it really felt like a very close-knit community. I knew all of my Year 13 classmates fairly well, and we felt like a big family. The teachers are also very friendly and personal, and that’s what I really appreciated about going to an international school; teachers here aren’t afraid to be friends with us students, and that helped us to get involved in class, and to learn more about the world and be prepared for adulthood.

Taking the IB Diploma was great. It seems that a lot of other IB graduates say it is one of the hardest things they’ve ever faced, but that wasn’t what I experienced. Instead, I learned how to be balanced, and I found time for fun while also having enough time to focus on studies. Even though I did have many nights where I would have to work until 2 AM, I always knew that I deserved it, and no one was responsible for it but me. However, the times I did manage to finish work at a steady pace and get it done early, such as with my Extended Essay, it really paid off, and meant a lot less stress for me when deadlines approached.

I also appreciate how the IB programme gave me the option to choose subjects I was interested in such as Psychology and Global Politics (GP). Taking Global Politics was one of the best parts of these last two years at YCIS Beijing, and is quite literally an experience I could not have had at any other school in Beijing, as YCIS was one of the few schools in the world that was part of the GP pilot programme. Through GP, I not only got to learn about history, but I got to apply what I’ve learned about history to current events, and my understanding about the world, politically, economically, and socially grew more than I think it would have taking a normal history course. Some of my best memories are from GP class, whether that was cracking jokes about political leaders or helping run the Global Politics simulation.

I think my success at YCIS Beijing came from the caring environment at the school. I was not always the most focused of students, but my teachers cared enough about me to help me get on track and focus on my work. I was also given the space to just be myself, both from classmates and teachers, and that was a motivation to do better academically, as well as in my various Creativity Action Service (CAS) activities like volleyball, Student Council, and playing guitar.

My advice to other IB students is: Don’t let stress get the better of you. If all you think about is study, you only have the potential to do well academically. But if you balance everything out, and don’t take yourself too seriously, you can do well academically while also having time for fun, friendship, and relaxation. IB is just a course you’re taking, and not your entire life. Also, finish your work early so you don’t have to stress about it later, and that way you consistently have more time to enjoy your high school life.

To learn more about YCIS Beijing, please visit www.ycis-bj.com

Photos: YCIS

The NFL- National Football League- has a few activities lined up to whet the appetites of Beijing’s football lovers. The return of NFL Home Field is one of those family friendly activities. In its second year, the flag football games will kick off on the weekend of September 13-14 all in Beijing’s Haidian University area with teams from Shanghai and Guangzhou getting in on the action. Just like last year, this year’s season ends with a host of yet-to-be confirmed stars making an appearance at the University Bowl at Shanghai Luwan Stadium on November 22 and 23.

Expect a little pomp and flair for sure at the games, with a little tailgating to get the whole experience. The fans of the game can get to try out at the Nike Pro Training Football Challenge before kickoff, watching tackle games featuring teams from the American Football League China (AFLC) in all three cities, and other numerous activities. But that’s not all from the NFL this year…

They are bringing a large-scale truck tour that will bring a mobile audio/visual NFL experience to at least 10 cities around the country, this initiative is dubbed NFL on Tour. It features exclusive NFL Films video and sound experience, on-site interactive games, a chance to try on official equipment and an NFL China pop-up shop featuring official team gear. This launched on Saturday, August 30 at People’s Park in Shanghai, and will be headed to Beijing on September 21, September 27, and October 1.

For more information, visit the NFL China’s website.

Photos: courtesy of NFL China

One of the hardest things we did over the summer was take a six-week trip with our kids. Our 7-year old has always been easy to travel with as she enjoys long flights and would fall asleep practically the moment she landed in a car seat. Unfortunately for our 22 month-old twin boys, flying is really cool, but only for the first hour and then they want to go for a walk outside. They would also only sleep for an hour or so in the car, and rarely at the same time. These are just a couple of things that made traveling during our “holiday” challenging.

Our biggest concern flying back to Beijing was that to catch our connecting flight out of Vancouver, Canada, we needed to take a 7AM flight out of Portland, Oregon. That would mean stumbling out of bed at 4AM and arriving in Beijing completely haggard the next day.

Since our flight out of Vancouver wasn’t until Thursday at noon, we opted to take a Wednesday afternoon flight from Portland and booked a room at the Fairmount Hotel inside the Vancouver airport. Although we got to bed a bit late, we were able to get a decent night’s sleep before grabbing breakfast and heading for departures. It was one of the most brilliant things we have ever done to smooth out a flight and will probably extend it for an additional night next time just so the kids can have more time watching the planes taking off and landing at the airport. Heck, we might even use the pool.

Photo: Christopher Lay

My first time applying for a job, first time writing a CV and the first time working for a boss instead of a teacher. It all started with the simple requirement of doing a personal project in the last year of the Middle Years Program at an IB school. It wasn’t hard to think of a project to do; it was extremely hard. How is someone who’s interested in anything and everything supposed to choose one thing?  Stuck in thoughts and possibilities, I said down and thought, “Okay, I’ll just list down the things I enjoy the most”.

From photography all the way down to skateboarding, I stared at the scribble of words written down in a mind map of basically everything a human could do. Then, I thought of career options that I might want to explore. While I was thinking, the September issue of beijingkids was right in front of me, gleaming.

How about journalism? Writing, photography, designing, it’s like an all-in-one career.  My talents matched a lot of the things to do with the job. Expressing my thoughts through talking is something that I already did well, but expressing them through writing would be a completely different thing. So I jumped to it and sent an e-mail to the editor. Next thing you know, I was asked to submit a writing sample and a resume.

What I learned:
This experience was definitely full of learning. On the first day, I felt like I didn’t have a clue about anything that was going on (probably because everyone else on my team was expert at journalism). I had to catch up and stay on track with everything my colleagues were doing, saying, and of course, writing. Think of it this way – I was like someone who had never heard of Chinese and had to learn the language in a time frame of 3 weeks.

Putting aside the journalism part of it, I hadn’t ever even worked in an office and had to be on time for huddles (short status recaps) and meetings as well as complete tasks to tight deadlines. Not that I wasn’t independent before, but I think this internship turned me into a responsible person and even helped me improve my time management skills.

It was enlightening and insightful listening and working with some of the most experienced feature writers in Beijing. Seeing my first article being published on the magazine’s website gave me goose bumps. In less than a week I had a 100 reads which might not seem much, but to me, it is a huge deal.  I actually imagined a 100 different people standing on a street and reading my article.

My parents were also really happy when I told them that I learned about sales and revenue in a learning session organized by the True Run sales department. I felt important because I was learning these financial and managerial words that my parents use in their work. I learned about considering the role of the brand in the market and most importantly, writing appropriate content for our target readers.  The experience seemed unreal because of how much knowledge I have gained in such a short time.

My favorite memories:
The best thing about working at True Run was that it was in a physical office but didn’t feel like a job. Before my first day at work, I thought it would be a scene from a movie where the boss would be uptight and always on the border line of firing her employees. I actually found it to be the total opposite. I bonded with the beijingkids team as if they were students of my age and we all had the most informal relationship even during work hours.

The atmosphere was a lot like school, where the teacher would give suggestions, tips and positive criticism after a piece was written, and would become really warm and friendly during lunch breaks. I have developed several friendships through the course of my time and even the silliest of conversations I have had with my colleagues have contributed and been a part of the pieces I have written for the magazine itself.
 

I will definitely miss the million dollar smiles that employees gave to me while passing by and my first day when people would come up to me and introduce themselves while having a casual conversation about my background. I was pleasantly surprised by how warm and generous everyone at True Run was and will never forget the laughs and sounds of cheers we had even during meetings.

I think this experience will always stay with me in my mental diary and I will cherish the memories of my first job ever till the day I die. Thank you so much beijingkids, for giving me the opportunity to discover a new world for myself and for allowing me to become a part of your family! There will always be a feeling of gratitude from my side to the True Run Media group whenever I will look back at this part of my life.

Photo Courtesy by Gurkriti Singh 

This post is part of the beijingkids’ parenting guest blogger program. If you want to be part of this program send an email to editor@beijing-kids.com.

“Maybe we should make a plan.”

At my suggestion, my cousin Lorie’s eyes widened in surprise. She’s had three children, so she knew exactly what I was talking about.

I had arrived the day before. We were gearing up for an early Christmas celebration. Guo Jian was going to get a tree-decorating, stocking-stuffing, big-family-dinner experience that he’s never had at Christmas time, and I was going to have some help with Echo in the second last week of my pregnancy while Guo Jian fought his jet lag.

But the twinges in my belly the next morning at 8am, the tightening around my middle and subtle menstrual-style cramps all triggered doubts that I had made the right choice to drive the 80 minutes south to King City (Newmarket). I had a chat with my bump before I emerged from my room that morning to join everyone at the breakfast table.

“I hope you’re just kidding, little guy,” I said. “Your daddy won’t be here for almost 2 days and you can’t come yet!”

(That was the beginning of his independent thought. I wonder what he’ll be like as a teenager?)

Around 10am, Lorie was sitting on the floor playing with Echo while I had a cup of tea perched on my basketball belly on the couch. Three of their four big dogs were lying down on the floor playing with them too. In less than twenty-four hours, I had watched my toddler go from afraid of the animals (who are all bigger than she is) to pushing them away and saying “beep beep!” when they blocked her path. Amazing.
That was the moment I chose to tell my cousin what was happening. After I spoke, she and Echo both looked up at me from the pile of puppies and puzzle pieces. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, the planning began.

We decided we’d wait a couple of hours to see if the cramping continued or if it increased in intensity. Then, when her fiancé, Peter, got back for lunch we would see if he’d be available to drive me back up to Norland. She could hang onto Echo until Guo Jian arrived the next day and then take them both up to join us. Besides, Norland was where I’d arranged for the midwives to be and, as disappointed as I was to have just arrived, I knew that I couldn’t give birth in my cousin’s home, nor had I any connection to the hospitals nearby.

Noon arrived and the cramping started to hurt a little. I took a bath and felt better, but still paged the midwives to give them the heads up that I might need them in the evening. I also confess that I wasn’t sure if what I was experiencing was indeed early-stage labour or just “Braxton Hicks” (sometimes known as “false labour.”) When one of the midwives from my team phoned me back, she said that I should phone when I’m back in Norland and let me know whether my contractions had progressed or if the cramping had gone away. She urged me to return, however, saying it was not worth risking it, yet she ended with this:

“Sometimes you can have those early stage cramps for several days, even a week,” she said. I started to wonder if I wasn’t over-reacting.

I could still talk through the contractions, but they were coming every five minutes after lunch. Just like with Echo’s labour, my early contractions were quite close together but not especially intense. So, despite being in a social group situation, they were invisible—just background noise in the quiet of my own body.

Nevertheless, I didn’t like the odds. I heeded the midwife’s advice and knew that I was too far away from where I’d planned to be for the birth for my own comfort. My cousin read my uneasiness and it wasn’t long before her fiancé urged a hasty departure and even arranged for someone to follow us in my car. We left the car seat and the rest of Echo’s things and by 2:30, we were on the road: a winter caravan back for a possible birth that was surprisingly early.

Better safe than sorry.

By this time, I’d tried in vain to reach Guo Jian but he was not answering either the house line or his cell phone in Beijing. There was no other option for an early flight—this I discovered later—but I still wanted to tell him what was happening. My friend, Julie, who is also Echo’s (and Paz’s) godmother, offered to come and join me for the birth. She was my back-up for Guo Jian’s absence, but I was awkward to ask her in the middle of her work week—not to mention the fact that she would have to drive in from Montreal. I also wasn’t sure it was really happening. When she insisted, I wanted to cry with relief. That was the precise moment I realized that I didn’t want to do this alone.

Throughout the drive north with Peter, my contractions were coming every 3-4 minutes. I didn’t want to tell Peter that (didn’t want to freak him out!) but they were getting more intense with every kilometre. Our conversation was smooth, but I was gripping the safety bar above the window in the last stretch, breathing quietly from the passenger seat. Thank god I wasn’t behind the wheel!

Funny enough, when we stopped for a bathroom break, it was at a Tim Horton’s. I could see the status update clearly in my head, which made me laugh:

    “You know you’ve returned to Canada to have a baby when you find yourself gripping the bathroom counter at a Tim Horton’s, rocking through an early-stage labour contraction.” 

He dropped me off by 4pm. He and his young work associate who had driven my car pulled out of the driveway almost immediately to return to the city. I waved from the front door.

Their truck out of sight, I was flooded with a feeling of safety to be back in my parent’s home and so I paged the midwives to let them know I had arrived but that I was doing fine. When they phoned me back, I was instructed to notify them if or when the contractions intensified.

I felt rejuvenated. I unpacked the food and loaded the fridge. I turned up the furnace and filled a bathtub full of water. The contractions were manageable. I just had to hum through them and rock back and forth. I started to repeat a soothing melody and each wave only interrupted my actions for about 20 seconds every 3 minutes or so. I built a fire. I set up my computer and looked up a few Christmas presents. Then, I took a bath.

As I slipped into the water, the grief come out of me like ice melting into steam. I didn’t want to do this without him. When I’d booked his flight several months earlier, he had asked me to move it by one day fearing his band may have a weekend festival that would make leaving on a Monday hard for him.

Oh, that one day!

Just one day earlier and perhaps he would have arrived for at least the final moments… but, it was too late for travel changes. Unless these contractions slowed down and disappeared, I was pretty sure he was going to miss his son’s birth, not to mention miss experiencing a home birth in Canada. Worst of all, I was without him. I needed him. I wanted him there.

Two hours later, out of the bath and back in front of the fire (that had gone out while I was in the bath), the intensity folded into a new level. I couldn’t concentrate on getting the fire to re-catch. I had to put my head on the carpet, down on my knees with my butt in the air, and rock my hips back and forth through each contraction.

I closed my computer. I spent the next half an hour trying to reach him again between contractions, willing him to pick up the phone, and he finally did. He was groggy with morning fuzz (it was only 7am for him) but I shocked him alert with the news that I was in labour. I could only speak in short intervals and had to put the phone down during each wave. He could hear it was real.

By about 6:45pm, I knew I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I had entered “the zone” and this was something I was grateful to have been able to do on my own, but I had reached my solo limit. I paged the midwife again and told her that my labour had definitely progressed. She could hear it in my voice and said she’d get on the road right away. The next forty-five minutes were spent in a blur, first in front of the fire (that was still refusing to catch) and then in the shower, and finally, when the first midwife arrived, I was sitting in the bathtub sideways, knees bent and to my sides with my feet touching at their soles, rocking through the contractions while holding my belly with both hands, eyes closed.

At this midwifery clinic, it’s a three-person team practice. Two members from the team attend every home birth. If there are two home births in action simultaneously, an RN steps in for one of the births. Yet, because I had only entered their care at 36 weeks, I had only met two of the three midwives at the clinic. The one who entered my bathroom that night was the only face I had never seen. She arrived with a smile and warmth that I felt instantly, which was fortunate, considering my vulnerable, naked state. She said, “I’m so glad to meet you and so happy to be able to attend your birth.” She met my eyes and we both smiled.

In between contractions, she checked the baby’s heartbeat right away. It was strong. She helped me out of the tub and even helped me dry off. I discovered that Julie had arrived at the same moment as the midwife—had even carried in some of her things—so I got dressed immediately and then ushered her in for a hug. I was so glad she’d come.

Midwives are amazing. After she’d examined me and discovered I was indeed in active labour at 4cm dilated (yeah!), she set up her equipment efficiently, moving some things around in the room I’d chosen as the birthing space. All the while, Julie held my hand through contractions. The place became transformed into a professional (but comfortable) birthing center, flanked by family photos of many ancestors, observing.

I was in and out of the experience—taken away by the waves—but when the second midwife arrived, I was flashed another smile of greeting and felt surrounded by strong female energy, protected and safe. There was no more space in the experience to lament Guo Jian’s absence.

One of the midwives suggested I walk around rather than labour on the bed on my knees as I had been doing in front of the fire earlier (that finally did catch, by the way!) and so I began to walk around, stopping at places to lean into the wall and rock through the intensity of the contractions. Eventually, I was in front of a blazing hearth leaning into the stonework around the fireplace, feeling blessed to be in such beauty while welcoming life into the world.

“Don’t fight it,” one of the midwives said. “If you tense up, it hurts more. Think of it as a wave.”

“I always wished I could surf,” I said, before diving down again to battle the elements of labour. I heard Julie chuckle at that comment.

Then a quiet voice above cut through the din of the storm: “You can.”

Read more here

This post first appeared on Ember Swift’s site on December 21.

Ember Swift is a Canadian songwriter, musician, writer, cyclist, green thumb, cupcake fan and proud mom living in Beijing with her husband, Guo Jian, and their daughter Echo (born January 2012). They are expecting a second child at the end of 2013. Ember writes professionally for several print and online publications (including beijingkids), as well as three blogs through her own site: www.emberswift.com. She is also an internationally touring musician and performs regularly in China with her all-girl local band. She has released 11 independent musical albums over the years but, these days, prefers to be with her family rather than on the road touring. She continues to release her music online and hopes to have completed her memoir project by the end of 2014.

Photo courtesy of Storyvillegirl (Flickr)

During my five-year stay in Beijing, there has been a great deal of continuity in the summer months: a little heat, a little humidity, a dash of air pollution, and the odd proposition from a prostitute in and around the Lido Hotel. These are just things that I took for granted as a part of the season, like the first songbird of spring or black snow in winter.

Naturally, I found it a bit disconcerting that, even though I stayed in Beijing all summer and was frequently was in the Lido area, I was not approached once by a woman of ill repute. Perhaps global warming simply destroyed the climate for such industry in Lido. Or maybe the change in management at the Lido Hotel was the cause of this transition (i.e. security started doing a better job). Either way, I will now need to mark the passing of the season by some other measure. 

It is a welcome change. The last time I was propositioned, I didn’t even know I had been approached by a “pro." As I walked down the hall from the hotel towards the Watson’s on the other side, a woman holding a Starbucks cup suddenly smiled and waved as if she recognized me. Naturally, my brain went into overdrive as I struggled in vain to remember which mother of my daughter’s classmates she must be.

“Hi, how have you been?” she asked in fair English.
 

“Good, thanks.” I answered as my brain failed to provide any useful background information on the person.

“Where are you headed?” she inquired politely.

“Oh, I’m just going to the bank,” I said.

 
“Shall I go with you?” she asked.

And that’s when my brain remembered it was summertime. I said, “No,” and I walked away secure in the knowledge that summer was in full swing. That was last year. This season, I eventually had to resort to a calendar to be certain of the arrival of summer. I guess even seasonal changes in Beijing are inevitable.

Photo from Wikimedia commons

Photo courtesy of USAG-Humphreys (Flickr)