Reflection

I’m glad to have the opportunity to narrate the story of my life which included many miracles at every stage.

Using the blogging technique of writing is helping me to develop the different difficulties that I encountered at every step of my life. It also gives me chances to express my gratitude to those who have extended their hand and heart to help me making the difficulties becoming good lessons that I can apply to my life.

The database gave me wider look at other difficulties that other people encountered in their lives. It makes me better understand that not only my life contains difficulties.

The images make my presentation easier to be understood. They convey my message with photos and pictures so viewers have better understanding.

The blog is broken into different posts which make it easier to move my theme with sequential order.

The oral presentation gave me opportunity to directly explaining the messages of the theme.

I’m so grateful for being able to take this class. Instructor is closely managing me to fulfill assignments. Classmates are wholeheartedly helping me to better understanding the procedure on each assignment. I feel that I’m receiving the most recent miracle not only for achieving my degree requirement, but also to improve my English ability. Last but not least, I’m thankful for the opportunity to prove, by my real life, that “The difficulties in life make life better, not bitter” as stated in the above image.

Citation:

Image retrieved May 9, 2011 from Google images, http://www.zazzle.com/the_difficulties_in_life_are_intended_to_make_u_mug-168522887497025554

Visual Rhetoric 2

The image shows to the viewer the scene of a person who is using a line which is attached to a post on one side and a tree on the other side. The line is broken while the person was riding. He definitely is falling down. With the depth of the cliff and may be sharp rock in the bottom, this person needs a miracle to save his life. The faded figure in the upper center of the image gives viewers idea that this person is receiving a miracle and he will be saved.

The image reminded me the accident in which I fell twenty five feet high from my roof. According to the surgeon who performed the operation to reorganize my internal organs, this kind of fall would end up either to a death or permanent paralyze. Miraculously I did not land on my head, or on my bottom. Had I landed on either of these positions, the result would be a death or the permanent damage.

With the viewers of this image, the pathos gives them a scary impression; and if the person can survive this king of fall, it needs to have a miracle.

Visual Rhetoric 1

The image above shows the orphans are standing behind the window of a building. The wall of the building is made of concrete blocks which are put together by cement. The orphans look skinny and sad. The black area behind the orphans indicates that there is not enough light inside of the room.

The construction of the building shows that the building is old and is repaired to house the orphans. The ribs on the orphans bodies indicate that they are mal-nutritiously fed. The shaved head may suggest that some kind of diseases need to be prevented (head lice for example). We are also drawn to this image through mythos in that our caring of children is a universal connection.

Pathos is a word that describes how the image appeals to the emotion or feelings of the viewer. Obviously, the viewers could see that the orphans need to be fed with better ration of food. The orphans look so lonely and their eyes would invite the viewers’ visitation.


Citation:
Image retrieved on May 7, 2011 from Google images, http://histclo.com/essay/war/com/wc-nk.html

Do You Believe In Miracle?

Today April 30 is the anniversary of the biggest miracle of my life: the last minute escape of my family from the fall of my native country into the Communists’ hand. The miracle begun with the reception of a telegram which was sent to me by my friend: Bob Winter. The telegram urged me to leave the country with my family for the United States. He had reserved place and employment for me in his home. By the time I received this telegram, the U.S. embassy was surrounded by thousands of people who, with the documents in hand, were fighting for a chance to pass the gate, lead to the roof, and climb up into one of the helicopters (Kirk, 2011).

With the crowds jammed on the front street of the embassy, there was no way that I could sneak into the premise with my wife and three young children. While I was wondering around the city, I passed the port of Saigon and saw people ran to a docked boat on the river. I rushed home, loaded my wife and three children on my 50 cc. moped and carried them to the port. By the time we arrived, the 100’ x 200’ (approximately) boat was jammed with over one thousand escapees; the anchor was cut. I had to throw my children onto the boat, jumped on it, and extended my leg for my wife to sit on my foot and pulled her on. While pulling my wife, I dropped my sandal on the river; I migrated to the U. S. with barred foot. After six days sitting on the boat (there was no room to lay down) with very little rice to survive, we were escorted to the Subic Bay, Philippine where we were greeted by the American Navy and started our new life. Our new journey began with one pair of close on each individual; my shoe was given by a friend who I met at the naval base in Subic Bay (no socks). From the Subic Bay we were transported to Guam, and to the Forth Smith army camp in Arkansas. On June 10th, Bob greeted me at the Dubuque airport in Iowa. He took us to his dairy farm in Wisconsin where I was employed as a cow milkier.

With the physical weakness (I weighed only 90 pounds), I wasn’t able to handle the heavy burden in the dairy farm. I moved to Iowa to start the new employments as warehouseman (Iowa), shipyard sandblaster, community worker (Louisiana), social worker (California), employment placement interviewer (California), mail carrier (California), computer programmer (California), gardener (California), fingernail business owner (California, Virginia), bridal business owner (Virginia). Finally I retired as school bus driver (Virginia).

For every step of my new journey, I have to admit that I had received miracles. I just want to cite out two biggest miracles that happened to me:
1. When I was working as computer programmer in California, I developed that I had a brain tumor which needed to be removed. Thanks to the help of a physician who was a deacon of my church, the surgery went on very well. I fully recovered after six months of treatment. I was able to return to the normal activities.
2. In 1998, in order to save three thousand dollars from hiring the professionals, I painted my house. When I tried the final touch up, I fell twenty five feet from my roof resulting in eight broken ribs and a surgery to reorganize internal organs. Doctor was surprise that, while eighty percent of this kind of incident resulting either the death or paralyze, I could survive without permanent effects. I was hospitalized for ten days. I was able to return to the normal activities.

Unlike the long discussions of Bayne and other authors against the definition of miracle written by Hume (Bayne, 2007), I simply believe that miracle is an achievement of a person and that achievement occurs beyond his or her efforts.

My rough life is filled with miracles. In each miracle, there is involvement of either God or of other people. The chain of miracles started with the salvation of my grandmother and continued with the life in different orphanages, the success in education, the survival of terrible war, and last but not least, the new life in the United States. In every miracle, there are hands of other people, known and unknown, involved.

If you agree with my definition, would you believe in miracle?



Citation:

Bayne, S. M. (2007). Hume on miracles: Would it take a miracle to believe in a miracle?. Southern Journal of Philosophy, 45(1), 1-29. Retrieved on May 2, 2011 from EBSCOhost.
Saigon Rescue: Kirk documentary premieres. (2011). Naval History, 25(1), 66-67. Retrieved on April 30, 2011 from EBSCOhost.

How Hard I Had To Fight For Education?

Every time I walk out of my house with the car key, Oliver (my grandson) says: “Grandpa is going to school”. His statement makes me happy because I want him to learn that education is very important. He is 28 months old now and will be attending pre-school in two more months. On his birthday, his uncles and aunt had opened a bank account reserved for his future school expenses. His educational road is well prepared and wide open for him to walk on.

Quite different than what are prepared for Oliver, I spent my preschool year under the French colonial rural education system. In this system, all children (regardless of age differences) were put in one classroom, run by an unqualified teacher. The teachers are unprepared for their job and unfamiliar with the social-cultural environment (Cogan, 1982). Many times I had to take my teacher’s role to assist other students after the teacher had spent fifteen minutes in class. As the teachers began to become more effective after some experience and practice, they are moved to the cities and placed in the urban schooling system where they can find more money and prestige (Cogan, 1982).

At four years old I begun to expose to the urban schooling system in the orphanages, taught by the nuns who were poorly trained. When I return home with my mother, I was eight years old and still being placed at the bottom level of elementary classes of the French colonial system (equivalent to our first grade). Two years later and with the division of my native country I followed my mother to move to the South. During the first two years in the South, I could not go to school because of the political and military struggling between the newly formed government and the colonial France.

The struggle ended in 1956 with the termination of French involvement in Vietnam and the conquering of the new government over several groups who wanted to remain the relationship with the colony. The new educational system, nevertheless, was still heavily linked to the colonial past: Most children went only to primary school, if they go to school at all. Admission to secondary schools is reserved for those who either do very well at the primary level or have relationship to the educational authorities (Cogan, 1982).

With these interruptions, I could not finish my elementary school until I became twelve years old. At this level and because I belong to a poor family, I wasn’t accepted into public high school nor did I have money to pay for tuition at the private school. Luckily I was recruited by a priest who tried to find children who wanted to learn to be a monk in a monastery. I spent four years there, in the jungle learning mostly French and Latin (four hours a day) and very little literature, math, social studies. At seventeen I returned to the city and still being a ninth grader.

After this year, I was adopted by a blind man who was the landlord of my rental house. He took me to a newly opened government school and claimed that I’m his son. He begged the officials for my admission. I skipped tenth grades was jammed in a 190 students eleventh class. The school was six miles away from my home. My only transportation was an old bicycle which was flattened after every mile. I had to use hand pump to inflate the tube. At the end of that year I was one of the nine students who passed the very difficult examination which determines the eligibility to be accepted into the twelve grades. Eleventh grade was the highest class that this school could provide. I had no choice but to look for a private school where I ran out of money for tuition after 3 months. I was kicked out of the class and had to sit at the door listening to the instructions. This did not last long and I was chased away. Luckily, one of the class-mate whose father was transferred to the central region needs a place to stay. I asked him to share my place with condition that he would repeat to me what he learned in class. The result was that, at the end of the school year, I passed the most difficult examination of the entire high school program (my friend failed). With this passage I could register at any college and my life was promised a brighter future.


Unfortunately, after six months in college, I had to cease my education and started to work so I could support my family. Later I was drafted to the Vietnamese marines and was participating in the war. When I migrated to the United States, I’d tried several times but wasn’t able to finish my dreamed education due to the burden of work. Now that I’m retired I want to continue my dream, not for my career but for building up my knowledge in order to be able to help children who are walking on the same road that I’ve gone through.

Citation:

Cogan, J. J. (1982). Education and development in the third world. Educational Leadership, 39(6), 430. Retrieved on April 28, 2011from EBSCOhost.

Have You Visited An Orphanage?

My wife and I are babysitting our grandson, Oliver while his mother (my daughter) is running our family bridal business and his father works as a nurse at St. Mary’s hospital. Oliver is an extremely lucky boy. He is covered with love and he is well taken care of: After the positive pregnancy test, his mother had been following doctor’s advice for the nutrition program; she attended the mother-to-be training sessions and strictly applied the guidance that she was given. As a result, Oliver was born with perfect health and was well greeted by my entire family (uncles and aunt). He was fed with his mother’s milk for the whole first year that was gradually replaced by organic formula and baby food. He is now 28 months and is a very intelligent boy. He is speaking both English and Vietnamese and is ready for pre-school which will take place when he turns 30 months old.

Many times when I’m watching Oliver growing up with complete provisions from his and my family, I cannot avoid comparing the love and care he is provided with that of my experiences during my infancy and toddler years. I was born and grew up without knowing my father. I survived only by the intervention of my grandmother and by the milk of many other women who were unrelated and unknown to me. A few years after my birth, as a toddler, I was put in numerous orphanages.
Orphanages are rarely used in the United States, although they are more frequently used abroad. These are the institutions that house children who are orphaned, abandoned, or whose parents are unable to care for them. You may have seen pictures or read stories about orphanages in Vietnam in recent years or during the American involvement in that war. These images and stories can only represent part of what I’d gone through during my four years of toddlerhood. There was only one orphanage serving the entire North of Vietnam. This orphanage was founded by a French priest and run by Catholic nuns. There were always more than 200 orphans at a time and they were divided into different groups according to age. Except for few who were referred by other authorities from rural areas, most of the orphans were from the suburbs of Hanoi (Uguak, 2010). When being accepted into the institution, orphans were provided with food which was donated by rich people, either from the colony or from the mother country: France. Younger orphans started their pre-school while older were placed in the technical training. A vast majority of these technically trained orphans became successful and useful for the later independence of Vietnam (Uguak, 2010). Social activities such as sports, tours to visit various interesting spots around Hanoi were provided. In general, orphans were well taken care physically and socially. Emotionally and passionately, nevertheless, orphans were always in profound need of love. Psychologically the war between the Vietnamese nationalists and the colonists and the second world war have been identified as a major cause in casualties that has led to massive displacement of children. The scale of this displacement has been compounded by famine and widespread food shortages (Uguak, 2010).
Occasionally, my mother paid a visit and that was my happiest time; or sometimes there were visitors or groups of visitors that stirred up the spirit of the orphans.

Though the nuns devoted their services to take care of orphans, often they ran out of patience and applied unreasonable physical punishments to children. My case was a great example: one winter night I accidentally wet my bed; the next morning a nun dunked me in the cold pond in the back yard. Luckily my brain wasn’t damaged. I spent four years in the orphanages and at the age of eight, I returned to my mother’s house.
The desire for love is always deep and permanent in the children of the orphanage. My personal experience during the time I spent in the orphanage can be described by the expression in the children’s eyes on the second image: they are hungry and hoped for visitors. I urge you, when possible, pay a visit to an orphanage. You will realize how lucky you are! You will be happy that you can share your love to those who are in profound need: the orphans.

Citation:
Adoption glossary. (n.d.) Adoption.com. Retrieved April 18, 2011, from http://glossary.adoption.com.

Uguak, U. (2010). The importance of psychological needs for the post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and displaced children in schools. Journal of Instructional Psychology, 37(4), 340. . Retrieved April twenty fourth, 2011 from Academic Search Complete Database.

Have You Experienced Starvation?

Recently, my friend Robert (whom I met in one of my classes) told me that he has been living off the food that he picks up from trash bins. At first I could not believe that this was true. After his description and explanation about the trips he makes early every morning to pick up food that the supermarkets throw away, I found out that we Americans have wasted too much food while many young people around the world are suffering from starvation. I'm citing my case as a good example of the condition of starvation in a country as rich as the United States.

I understand the condition of starvation. I was born in Vietnam in 1944. When I opened my eyes for the first time, many Vietnamese people were starving to death. Among 50 infants in my village that were born at the same time, I’m the sole survivor. The reason for their deaths was that their parents could not find food; hence they did not have milk to feed the babies. At that time there weren’t formulas or any other source of milk other than that of the mothers. The famine which started at the beginning of 1944 and extended through the year of 1945 killed around 2 million people. I do not know how I survived because my mom became a widow at the age of 16, two month before my birth. According to our Asian culture, we were the responsibility of my father’s family. They did not have enough food for themselves, let alone extra relations. We too became the victims of starvation and famine. When I became so weak and on the verge of death, I was rescued by my mom’s mother. She took us in and fed us. I survived by her food; and later, by the milk of different women who were nursing and had extra milk (after the famine was over) (Dung, 1995).

You may question: what were reasons that contributed to this terrible ordeal?

There were several reasons contributed to this famine. We can categorize into the following areas:
Political: The effects of World War II on French Indochina. Involvements of France, Japan, and the United States in Vietnam caused detrimental effects to the economic activities of the Vietnamese; the fight for independence from French colony which begun in 1930’s by several groups of nationalists; the invasion of Japan who was trying to form a Greater East Asia War.

Economic: the French and Japanese policies to distribute agriculture products from Vietnam. After the colonial French was knocked out by Japanese force in 1940, Japan applied the rip-off policy which took most of the agricultural products from the North Vietnam to feed their soldiers and to transport to their homes (Dung,1995). While Vietnam was occupied by Japan, the Allies, especially the United States, often bombed roads, making the transport of rice from the South to the North extremely hard. Both France and Japan forcibly hoarded food from farmers to feed their troops, while the French administration was broken and unable to supply and distribute the food. The inadequate food supply caused the famine, appearing in the beginning of 1944. The decrease of land set aside for growing staple crops such as maize and potatoes to make land for growing cotton, jute, and other industrial plants. Because of the decreased land available for growing, harvests of staple crops decreased considerably.

Natural disasters: In Northern Vietnam, a drought coupled with pests caused the winter-spring harvest of 1944 to decrease by 20%. After that there was a flood during the harvest season causing the crisis to occur (Dung,1995).

Under these conditions, my life was jeopardized if I did not receive miracles. Miracle came, first and foremost from God, from my grandmother, and from people that I can never recall. The God blessing and help from others did not stop at the beginning aspect of my life, but will be continuing in my whole life.


Citation:
Dung, B. (1995). Japan's role in Vietnamese starvation of 1944-45. Modern Asian Studies, 29(3), 573. Retrieved March 30, 2011, from the Academic Search Complete Database.

This article focuses on the Vietnamese famine of 1944-45 and points out the Japanese responsibility in the Vietnamese starvation. Causes of starvation; Japan's procurement of general resources and rice; demonstration and implementation of Japanese policy; logistic dimension of Japanese policy, and its impact on the starvation.