Today was graduation for the 9th and 11th graders. Normally the fifth graders would have also graduated, but for some reason they got left out of the party this year. There was the usual mix of singing, dancing, poetry, and awards, but it lacked the usual surprise snowstorm. As a result, it was all-in-all a lovely morning. The students still have 3 weeks of classes and many exams to go before they are truly done, but for a little while they got to relax and have fun.

The graduation sign complete with the creepy dolls that reappear each year.

The audience.

Ringing the bell to start the ceremony.

What one does when the ceremony gets a little boring.

Suger-Erdene's amazing rope dance.

11th grade boys. Erdenebulgan, the one with the medals, is going to be famous someday.

One of the two dogs that "participated" in graduation.

All 41 of this year's graduates. We truly are the amazing shrinking school.

Surenjav and Otgonzaya-9th grade

Narankhuu and Batkhuyag-9th grade

Urangoo(11), Enkhmaa(11), Me, Erdenebulgan(11) and Dashtseveen(9)

Medal winners

Maralgua (9th grade) and I. I have known this lovely lady since she was in kindergarten.

This week Dalanzadgad is hosting a group of visiting doctors from South Korea. Sponsored by the aimag government, the doctors are working with local counterparts in the areas of heart, nerves, stomach, allergies, and joints, and through them hundreds of patients have been able to receive free treatment and medicine. I helped out in my little way by working as a translator on Tuesday where I mainly worked in the neurology examination room. It was an interesting day (at least twice I got to tell the doctor that a patient’s injuries stemmed from a camel related accident), but it was also really sad. Lots of babies and kids with severe cognitive problems, as well as older people who suffer from the affects of strokes and brain lesions. I was glad I could help by being the go-between the doctors and the patients, but I don’t think I could hack working as a medical translator as a career. Being the one to tell a parent that their child has severe cerebral palsy and will never get any better is just too hard. It was nice, though, to be able to help for even one day. Makes all that language studying worthwhile.

Life in the Gobi can be hard, and everyone is expected to do their fair share–including the cats.

Lulu guarding the door from neighborhood cats.

Lulu fact-checking, and George keeping Brian's lap warm.

Lulu protecting Brian and Santi from sudden attack by Gobi worms.

Lulu wearing her desert camouflage fur.

For the past few months interested students have been attending special classes (Mongolian language, IQ, dance, chess, and shagai shooting) twice a week taught by select members of the community. Two weeks ago the students put on performances for their classmates and participated in contests to demonstrate their newly acquired skills. I am always impressed by how hard working these kids are and how much they get into learning–at least when it involves games and prizes.

A group of cut throat chess players.

The IQ, or giant brain, club.

Mongolian language nuts are the best dressed.

The few, the proud, the ankle bone shooters.

Odmaa reciting part of the famous poem "Би Монгол Хүн"

"Making rope"

Zoljargal and Zolzaya-two of my favorites.

Brains at work.

Shooting Shagai. (Go Badgers!)

Group chess.

The puffy hair bow team writing a poem....

..and the formidable crew cut team.