Editor's Note

We were in unfamiliar territory, and yet we were home. When I was a child, my family moved to the US from Taiwan; we arrived with suitcases and a few phone numbers, and settled down as best as we could. We moved from the East to the West, but I bet new expats in Beijing won’t have much trouble identifying with our experience.

The move was a planned one, so we had expected certain things to be quite different. Like the language. For months before the move, my parents, sister, brother and I had attended classes as a family, shouting out sentences in unison, trying to master the melodic tones of this foreign tongue. As for food, my parents were positive that what passed for cuisine in this new place couldn’t possibly match the tastes of home. Fruits and vegetables wouldn’t be as fresh; fish and meat would come in unrecognizable packages.

But so much else was also different, and the list of changes we never anticipated ballooned.

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The old saying goes: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Perhaps that's where the idea of summer vacation came about.

It's good to stop every once in a while to let yourself unwind. And after nine months of sitting in a stiff chair and listening to an adult talk at the front of a classroom while the sun teasingly shines outside, kids deserve a long break - preferably out of doors.

But that doesn't mean that the act of learning stops. In fact, gaining knowledge about the world - and life in general - frequently happens outside the classroom. It's one thing to read about or see a photograph of the Sistine Chapel in a book; to be in the presence of a centuries-old edifice and have your breath taken away by the awe-inspiring work of a celebrated master painter - that is another thing entirely.

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It must have been when I was 5 or 6 that I was first introduced to the piano. My fingers were not yet strong enough to grasp the subtleties of forte or piano, nor were my hands able to span intervals beyond five keys. Nonetheless, those wedges of black and white ivory that bowed at my fingertips entranced me, and thus began my lifelong love affair with the piano – and with music.

I continued studying piano until I graduated from high school. It was perhaps the one thing that remained steady for me during a period of consistent change – moving from southern to northern California and back again; changing schools, friends, cities and addresses every couple of years. Yet, week in and week out, in spite of tests or homework (or the frequent spout of rebellion), there I would find myself, at the Yermakovs, sitting by the side of Marina, my devoted teacher, and warming up my fingers with scales.

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Most people can attest to having been in the presence of art at least once in their lifetimes. Even the youngest of kids will experiment with it during their very first year in a classroom – see this month’s Blank Canvas for proof! Yet, when it comes to defining what exactly art is, it can be quite difficult; just ask BWYA art instructor KC Connelly, who chimes in on this month’s Teacher Talk.

So what exactly is art? Is it the paintings you might find on the ceilings of the Vatican? Or perhaps it could be a primitive handprint on a cave wall. Could it be a comic book, a poem, a movie or a play? Doodles in a notebook? Or might it even be food?

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Role models can come in all shapes and sizes. For some, they are movie stars; for others, they are athletes. They can be historical figures, someone old and wise, or even a youngster living right here in Beijing. For me, my role model was my brother.

My friends used to always envy the fact that I had an older brother. Little did they know what a nuisance it was to me. He was always bossing me around, telling me what to do, tricking me out of my allowance, not letting me play video games “just because.” Or, worse yet, kidnapping Wrinkles, my favorite stuffed dog, and torturing her before my very eyes.

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When I was growing up, hot pot was a weekly event in my household. It was a simple yet extravagant occasion. Simple in that my parents, my brother and I would sit cross-legged on the floor around our living room coffee table, plug in a portable hotplate and eat as we watched TV. Extravagant in that it involved a multitude of elements working together to create a delicious experience: tender slices of beef and pork, my mother’s homemade meatballs, fish-paste balls, oyster and enoki mushrooms, fresh tofu, spinach, cabbage and big leaves of lettuce that would soak up whatever happened to be the evening’s dipping sauce. When I was young, the salty and spicy satay was my favorite, combined with a dash of soy sauce and rice vinegar, and hearty helpings of freshly chopped garlic and cilantro. Nowadays, my favorite is sesame paste – thick and creamy like smooth peanut butter, with a rich, nutty taste that lingers in the mouth.

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Come December, the feeling of Christmas – whether you celebrate it or not – can be felt in the air. It’s that warm, cheery sensation of generosity and indulgence. It’s a day most kids can’t wait for, and a day that most parents don’t worry about needing to force them out of bed, as they are usually the first ones awake, huddled around the tree.

But the holiday season means more than just gifts and presents. It comes with the urge to give back to the community, a desire to help others in less than fortunate circumstances, and there are plenty of people like that in Beijing – just look at some of the few we’ve profiled in “A Season of Giving: Beijing Charities That Need You”. Think one person doesn’t make a difference? Take a look at “Lessons in Life”, a personal essay about the experience of volunteering in rural China, and you may decide otherwise.

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There's no real way to prepare for accidents: The best you can do is to be alert to life's dangers and risks. This is more difficult to accept as a parent, because you want to believe that you have the power to protect your child from harm at all times, even though deep down you know this isn't always possible.

But in an alien environment, knowing how to protect your child presents special challenges. That is why in this month's tbjkids, you will find advice on ways to stay safe and healthy in Beijing. With the cold season looming, prevention is the best medicine, and every little step counts! So stock up on winter accessories for your kids to keep those paws warm, or define your own style by recycling old sweaters and making your own mittens out of them.

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Autumn is a season for change. It’s a time when the air wavers undecidedly somewhere between warm and cool, when leaves which before were green start fading into hues of gold and red, when memories of carefree days of summer start dissolving into the reality of school.

October is, perhaps, the calm before the storm, the last breath before the onslaught of homework, school projects, book reports, SATs and college applications become impending doom. And for these reasons many kids around the world have come to look forward to – even rely upon – Halloween as a chance to play a trick or have a treat without the consequences of either being too grave. Hence, in this issue of tbjkids, you’ll find a step-by-step guide on how to throw a Halloween party and make the most of this brief indulgence.

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When I was 10 and my family was moving to Hong Kong, my mom told my brothers and I that we could all fill two shelves in our bedrooms with whatever we wanted to bring with us from Brooklyn. We each made our own selections: I gathered up my dolls and then guiltily picked who among them would get to come with me. My 5-year-old brother Teddy packed a cast-iron piggy bank shaped like a puppy and a bust of Abraham Lincoln I hadn’t even known he owned; 9-year-old Chris made his own difficult decisions – I think he included a dartboard. Really, we all choose blindly: how could we know what we would miss about home when we’d never left it before?

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