Imagine a beloved son, John setting sail with his mother without anyone else’s knowledge. On the way, his mother dies, but John survives. Once in Japan, John’s distant relatives take him in, refusing to allow anyone from his family see him. Would not we want our son back? We probably would. Elian Gonzalez’s story has unfolded much the same way as the one just described. For the last month, the media has focused on Elian. As citizens of the United States, we should return Elian to his native land of Cuba, to his father who loves him.

Star Wars had arrived in Bratislava! My friend, Daniel, and Mom purchased tickets for us to watch it in English. Another family had also purchased tickets, and we decided that we would go together in our van. When we arrived at the cinema at 3:00 p.m., and had gotten our seats, the movie started. Czech, instead of English, blared out at us, much to our surprise. Mom left, and upon her return a few minutes later, all of us left the cinema. After some searching, we finally found a cinema that showed Star Wars in English, at 6 PM.

Allison writes as a home schooling missionary kid living in
Slovakia

Many people think that normal "American" kids and missionary kids have either everything in common, or nothing in common. They think that a middle ground does not exist. However, in reality, missionary kids and American kids have a lot of similarities and also many differences. As a missionary kid, and as a teen who has seen American teens, I have noticed some things that I would like to share with you.

Friendship, is you and I. Not something to be found, or bought. It is you, to me, an opening, of thought. It is an explosion of ones self, met by an equally terrific volcanic eruption. Sometimes though, explosions are very quiet.

A ripping, tearing, the feeling of a whip, a friendship is gone. It was a part of you; it falls slowly to the ground, where did it go? A friendship is a battle. Can we up hold it you and I? There is no sturdy bridge to sustain us, our bridge, the bridge of friendship is your arm around my shoulder, mine around yours.

I sat, watching the lights glimmering far
Across the bay, each looked like a small star.
I heard the peeping cries of the sand birds
Listening, I tried to make out their words.
A seal barked in the darkness, a white wave
Broke and fell back, its treasure to me gave.
I picked the shells and glass from the wet sand,
And left the shore, for sleep I did demand.

I have a science teacher; his name’s Monty.
He’s a nasty little thing, I’m sure you’ll agree.
If you’re wanting somethin’ really bad,
Just go to him – believe me, he won’t leave you sad!
Oh lets take some notes,
Kill some bugs, fry some oats,
Oooh let’s dissect some coyotes,
Here at my science class.

Along the Lake’s wet pebbly shore,
Oft have I lonely sought,
My dear ones who have from me gone-
And whom I can find not.
Searching o’re the misty hills
And the little, mocking rills.

They left, no reason could I see
For them hastening so;
I woke and found myself alone-
Thus searching I must go.
Searching o’re the misty hills
And the little, mocking rills.

Along the Lake’s wet pebbly shore,
Oft have I lonely sought,
My dear ones who have from me gone-
And whom I can find not.
Searching o’re the misty hills
And the little, mocking rills.

They left, no reason could I see
For them hastening so;
I woke and found myself alone-
Thus searching I must go.
Searching o’re the misty hills
And the little, mocking rills.

Once a Parakeet named Corrie
(Who loved a bell)
Flew from her cage into the air,
But down she fell.

Unlucky bird! She little guessed
Who stood below:
My poor Mother, who disliked
That kind of blow.

Screaming, tearing around the room
In hectic flight;
At last Corrie took to soaring,
With all her might!

I caught Corrie and put her back
Inside the cage;
And my Mom’s frazzled nerves calmed down
From her outrage.

Dear Homeschooling Friends,