Longhouse School

This is a post written by “Junior,” a high school sophomore and one of my best friends. I wanted to include this because, in my mind, he represents the ideal learner that I hope the Longhouse School will raise.

Like many of our children, Junior had a very challenging childhood with a lot of interrupted learning. His parents were at first Sandinista revolutionaries and then had to flee for their lives. They arrived in the United States as undocumented refugees escaping repression. Then came Junior’s battles to learn English, work within very challenging schools, and come to terms with his ASD. It is an extraordinary tale that needs to be told at length.

When he wrote this post, his family had received their working papers and Junior had received a scholarship at a very prestigious private high school. Yes, Junior is very precocious, and has won the heart of “Sopie,” whose family also received documentation after fleeing the Ivory Coast.

What I admire the most about Junior is his tenacity and independence in study. My family and Heidi’s bought two side-by-side homes and we wanted it to feel like one home. During renovation, Junior stayed from dawn to dusk because he wanted to study engineering, landscaping, and sound design for Heidi’s practice room. He took that knowledge and built a landscaping business. Now he has built a friendship with a boy his age whose parents work at a Russion consulate. They talk honestly about their countries. Junior is learning Russian and reading Dostoyevsky.

I want to leave Junior’s post in its entirety without comment.

I am spending the weekend at Sopie’s home in Brooklyn. There’s a plumbing emergency and Mr. Yao and I are going to rotor rooter the drains. It’s probably caused by the falling leaves or tree roots getting into the sewer line. Sometimes people throw wipes down the toilet. “People, don’t do that, even if the package says ‘flushable’—they are not! Especially in old buildings like yours!”

 Last night, Sopie, Apie (Sopie’s younger sister), and I read out loud the next installment of Daisaku Ikeda’s New Human Revolution, Volume 20. Here, Shin’ichi (the novel’s name for Daisaku Ikeda) had just donated 3000 books to the library of Moscow State University:

“The three thousand books had been chosen with a focus on promoting an understanding of Japanese culture. In addition to books on Japanese history, culture, thought, and art, there were a number of volumes related to education in Japan, as well as language books and dictionaries. Shin’ichi regarded the donation of books as a way to build the foundation for cultural exchange (pp. 109-110).“

Part of our chores in the building is visiting the elderly tenants. We help them clean and cook. If requested, we help them dress or bathe. We sit with them over tea and talk. There is one thing all of these apartments have in common: they all have libraries. Jews are sometimes called people of the book. Sopie and I promised each other that when we start our own home, we will build a large library!

 Shin’ichi writes:

 “He had a strong memory of how reading translations of stories about foreign lands when he was a boy had provided him with a glimpse of life in other countries. Though the Japanese educational system at that time was under the control of the militarist government and thus subjected to many restrictions, books brought a fresh breeze from the outside world into Shin’ichi’s life. That’s why he now placed such importance on donating books as an initial step toward cultural exchange (p. 110).”

 As a start, I am going to spend some time each school day in the library. I use the library as a good place to catch up on my work. Fine. I am friends with the librarian and I am going to ask her how to start the habit of reading. This is very important now that the government is trying to restrict access to some sources of information.

 In the installment, there is a description of a beautiful tapestry hanging in the rector’s office. It’s a picture of the Moscow State University building, a gift from the people of China on the university’s 200th anniversary. This was in spite of the political tensions between the two governments at that time. Shin’ichi was deeply moved.

“This is it!” he thought. “Friendship and trust cultivated through educational exchange cannot be shaken by political tensions. This must be the way forward!” A feeling of excitement rose in his heart. He looked up at the tapestry again, where the great citadel of education seemed to stand high above the rift between the Soviet and Chinese governments.

Next weekend Sopie will probably sleep over at our home and we usually go to the Y in the East Bronx. We’ve become friends with the Nica man who we suspected was a SORM agent. But we have fun playing with him Nica checkers (which Sopie still doesn’t get). I’ve talked about this before but never actually did it–maybe we should have a convo with the man about the situation back home?

We peeked ahead to the next installment. Shin’ichi writes:

Mahatma Gandhi said to the effect that the power of the spirit is limitless and ever-advancing, and that nothing in the world could match the true potential of that power (p. 111).

 How do we live that spirit? Sopie and I decided that after gongyo, chores, and my work with Mr. Yao, we would go to the Brooklyn promenade and take a walk. It’s predicted to be cloudy, a bit chilly in the 50s, and a 10% chance of rain. Who cares? I love the way Sopie holds my arm and pulls me close to her when we walk. I never get tired of hearing her voice and giggling. How can I be so lucky to have found her?