Exercize has never been my thing. It's not the sweating or the working hard either. It's just that, with the exception of kick boxing (which I love but haven't done in many years), it doesn't speak to me. At the beginning of exercize being a-thing-we-do in America - like in the 80's when Aerobics came into fashion, I went with my Mom once. I bought a pair of grey leg warmers from K-Mart in preparation for the event and that was the best part of it. Just a bunch of people jiggling around a room was a little unsettling for me. Let alone me being one of those people. Very unsettling.
So you can see, I'm not with the masses on this one. Growing up I was pretty much a straight and narrow kind of girl. I remember only a few times when there was occasion for major punishments of any kind. There was the time that I got a warning in Earth Science that I was failing. That was bad. There was the time that I had a friend over when there was no parent home. Not good. Oh, and the famous time that I had a friend sleepover when my parents went out and we made and ate half a batch of cookie dough with all liquids replaced with liquor from my dad's cabinet. Hehe. That was funny. And sickening.
But the worst punishment was about exercize. It was around the time of the advent of aerobics too, by the way. Now there's a "walk" for everything but this was the first one I was aware of - it was the Walk for Hunger in Boston, Mass. We decided to go the week before so we didn't have time to gather any pledges but we rode the hour to Boston to walk anyway. I suppose that I didn't see the point in walking like a million miles to not raise any money, so I compelled a friend to hop on the T with me and hit a groovy festival that I had heard of in Harvard Square. Then we took the T back to the ending point of the walk and said "wow - what took you guys so long?" And I'm still being punished. For real. Not even joking.
The thing is that I never felt guilty. I did feel punished but I actually thought it was smart. Walking for no purpose was purposeless. I had fun at the festival. It was a good choice if you ask me. And guilt is a part of the Jewishy fabric of my being so you can rest assured that I should have felt guilty but I didn't.
All of this to say that the other day my boys had the day off of school and I brought them to pick up their sister at their old school (which is her new/old school - the one that's not free). The first thing that came out of my 1st grader's mouth after the swarm of old teachers and friends abated was "I want to come back here too". And here I am, days later, still sitting with the guilt. Because here's what I've done. I've taken something beloved away then given it back to one person but not the others. They have a wonderful school that they really love and are doing great at, this I know. I can't afford to send them back to their old spot but that's beside the point - their new spot is truly great.
So I didn't account well for the emotional factor in all of this. The joy on the boys faces when they got to play with old friends. Because we didn't move away, they are across the street. And because they don't understand that it was lucky to get a mid-year spot for their sister. And because they are walking for hunger according to the rules of the game and they are watching their sister, in their minds, take the T over to Harvard Square and hang out at the festival that they think would have really rocked more than aching shins.
What I'll do with this excessive guilt is up for grabs. I'm thinking I'll stay the course for a bit though and wrangle through the guilty feelings - people are different and the boys are having a blast at school when they aren't remeniscing / seething with jealousy. OK - guess I'll grab my leg warmers and push through the class, everyone will be happy and in good shape in the end.
Hit by a Meteor
I probably think more about the dinosaurs than other people. I'm not a paleontologist or even a scientist; I just think it's pretty weird that our earth was inhabited by a bizarre hodge-podge of creatures a long time before us. And furthermore, I think it's odder still that someday some dinosaur-type-character may again exist and never know that we roamed the earth before them. Or worse yet they'll study us and read this blog and think "wow - who cares?". Not to be depressing but things change.
I've always considered my life as somewhere between normal and bizarre but today was like an international flight. When you leave Detroit, sleep in a drug / champagne combo stupor for 13 hours and wake up in Hong Kong. Isn't that a strange feeling - like some part of your life must be a dream but it's not clear which? I both love and hate that feeling. Sort of how I feel when I think about dinosaurs or ancient greeks or something else ye olde.
At 11:40 I went to get my daughter, sign the very official withdrawl slips with which a full copy of her, I kid you not, permanent record, was bestowed upon me. Glad to have that indeed. I met her in the cafeteria where she was walking out of the lunch line with a box of milk and a naked hot dog on a tray. We sat at a long table on round attached stools across from a pack of very tall boys, three of whom are from the shelter, one of whom tied my same daughter up yea, those few weeks ago. Every once in a while the deafening roar was interrupted by a relatively ancient cafeteria watcher-person clapping 5 times to calm the lunching lions.
We walked up to her classroom to clean out her desk which is huddled around three others to make a bit of a square type formation. The biggest baddest troublemaker has his desk all alone off to the side of the room. Now, last night we didn't ask our daughter to do her homework because it seemed silly but she had all of her "money" taken away from her today - it would seem that not doing homework costs you 3 photocopied dollars that are earned through good behavior or smart question answering. In any case, we averted that near hysteria and focused on many goodbyes. My daughter is more of a grown-up lover than kid lover so we had to visit the classes of teachers I had never seen nor heard of in my life to say "adios". Everyone (the adults more than the kids it must be said) gave big hugs and said goodbye and how wonderful she is and how much she'll be missed. And I tried hard not to cry at the thought that this move across the street must be a mistake - so many wonderful people who appreciate her and love her!
Well, a few tears dripped but neither of us were blubbering or anything unattractive like that. We stopped at a bakery for a comfort croissant then crossed the street to the new/old school and all of the tears were forgotten. In fact, I had to run to catch up with her as she blazed a trail to her room. It felt like nothing but a long, lazy summer had passed and it just felt, well, right for her. The wide open classroom with tables and barrels (really, I know) to sit on was really not the most impactful. The most impactful were the number of happy faces, smiles and all out joy among teachers and kids alike at seeing my little girl. I spent an hour trying not to cry and wondering how she was managing so gracefully this trans-continental flight that we were flying.
But here was the thing that confirmed my decision. Try as I may, I couldn't envision my other two school aged children walking the same trail that we did today. I couldn't envision them saying a breezy goodbye to their teachers and friends and skipping merrily across the street. I couldn't see them re-integrating as though no time had passed. And that was testament to the difference between these kids. Both of my boys fit just fine at their new school and, try as she did, my daughter never did.
This has all got me thinking about life and personalities and the dinosaurs. Today my first grader told me how the dinosaurs all "perished". See, there was a big meteor that fell from the earth and killed all of the plants. Then the plant eaters didn't have any food so they died. Since they were all dead there was nothing for the meat eaters to eat so they died. So, to quote his deep historical knowledge "all the dinosaurs really died of starvation". I actually have a healthy respect for made up history, so I was great with that explanation but it did leave me wondering – how much of our lives is fact and how much is our own imaginary figments?
I like to think that today I did something good and right. But sometimes I think that I did just plain something – and since no one can choose both paths, I’ll never know if it was truly good or right. But one thing is for sure – it’s just a moment in time like so many others for so many different people and creatures that have come before us. And we’re lucky – plant eaters or meat eaters, they didn’t get to pick which side of the street their kids should go to for an emotionally fulfilling experience, they got eaten or hit with a meteor or something - kind of puts it in perspective, eeh?
I've always considered my life as somewhere between normal and bizarre but today was like an international flight. When you leave Detroit, sleep in a drug / champagne combo stupor for 13 hours and wake up in Hong Kong. Isn't that a strange feeling - like some part of your life must be a dream but it's not clear which? I both love and hate that feeling. Sort of how I feel when I think about dinosaurs or ancient greeks or something else ye olde.
At 11:40 I went to get my daughter, sign the very official withdrawl slips with which a full copy of her, I kid you not, permanent record, was bestowed upon me. Glad to have that indeed. I met her in the cafeteria where she was walking out of the lunch line with a box of milk and a naked hot dog on a tray. We sat at a long table on round attached stools across from a pack of very tall boys, three of whom are from the shelter, one of whom tied my same daughter up yea, those few weeks ago. Every once in a while the deafening roar was interrupted by a relatively ancient cafeteria watcher-person clapping 5 times to calm the lunching lions.
We walked up to her classroom to clean out her desk which is huddled around three others to make a bit of a square type formation. The biggest baddest troublemaker has his desk all alone off to the side of the room. Now, last night we didn't ask our daughter to do her homework because it seemed silly but she had all of her "money" taken away from her today - it would seem that not doing homework costs you 3 photocopied dollars that are earned through good behavior or smart question answering. In any case, we averted that near hysteria and focused on many goodbyes. My daughter is more of a grown-up lover than kid lover so we had to visit the classes of teachers I had never seen nor heard of in my life to say "adios". Everyone (the adults more than the kids it must be said) gave big hugs and said goodbye and how wonderful she is and how much she'll be missed. And I tried hard not to cry at the thought that this move across the street must be a mistake - so many wonderful people who appreciate her and love her!
Well, a few tears dripped but neither of us were blubbering or anything unattractive like that. We stopped at a bakery for a comfort croissant then crossed the street to the new/old school and all of the tears were forgotten. In fact, I had to run to catch up with her as she blazed a trail to her room. It felt like nothing but a long, lazy summer had passed and it just felt, well, right for her. The wide open classroom with tables and barrels (really, I know) to sit on was really not the most impactful. The most impactful were the number of happy faces, smiles and all out joy among teachers and kids alike at seeing my little girl. I spent an hour trying not to cry and wondering how she was managing so gracefully this trans-continental flight that we were flying.
But here was the thing that confirmed my decision. Try as I may, I couldn't envision my other two school aged children walking the same trail that we did today. I couldn't envision them saying a breezy goodbye to their teachers and friends and skipping merrily across the street. I couldn't see them re-integrating as though no time had passed. And that was testament to the difference between these kids. Both of my boys fit just fine at their new school and, try as she did, my daughter never did.
This has all got me thinking about life and personalities and the dinosaurs. Today my first grader told me how the dinosaurs all "perished". See, there was a big meteor that fell from the earth and killed all of the plants. Then the plant eaters didn't have any food so they died. Since they were all dead there was nothing for the meat eaters to eat so they died. So, to quote his deep historical knowledge "all the dinosaurs really died of starvation". I actually have a healthy respect for made up history, so I was great with that explanation but it did leave me wondering – how much of our lives is fact and how much is our own imaginary figments?
I like to think that today I did something good and right. But sometimes I think that I did just plain something – and since no one can choose both paths, I’ll never know if it was truly good or right. But one thing is for sure – it’s just a moment in time like so many others for so many different people and creatures that have come before us. And we’re lucky – plant eaters or meat eaters, they didn’t get to pick which side of the street their kids should go to for an emotionally fulfilling experience, they got eaten or hit with a meteor or something - kind of puts it in perspective, eeh?
Minks and Black Bread
I bet you thought there was no more about me that you could learn but did you know about my trip to the USSR? Yes, I know that dates me. But when I was 15 I went on a trip to the USSR. In February. And I would be remiss in not informing you that it was incredibly cold and there was no food that I found edible at that time in my life. Potatoes, cabbage and black bread at every meal and then a Toblerone chocolate bar for dessert purchased at the store for foreigners where you can only use foreign currency. That right there was a long 10 days for the ol' stomach. I've recovered now though.
Back in the USSR I had a few really moving experiences. I smuggled in toilet paper, prayer books and a cateloupe to bring to the home of a Jewish refusnik family who weren't permitted to leave the country. They had twins my age and I shared tea with them in their house where I sat next to the slats that served as window panes and between two pans catching the snow melt from the leaking ceiling. I wished that I could give them everything and I wished that I didn't object quite so much to wearing fur because this would have been the time for it.
We searched Moscow for a decent restaurant one night. Without knowing Russian it's hard because everything was grey with a few neon signs lighting the way. For your future needs, the word for restaurant looks something vaguely like this - "PECTOPAH". I guess that's how it has felt navigating a new school system. Like it's really gray and there are a few lights but somehow I can't read the signs. I keep finding out new and wonderful things. Thank goodness my kids are so resilient because I have no idea how they'd manage through this new territory otherwise.
And I do object to wearing fur even if it's really really cold out. I actually don't wear leather either because otherwise that'd be inconsistent. But sometimes I buy leather shoes. Because they are comfortable and they last a long time and they look pretty. And, incidentally, I am weak. Today, for example, I considered some new boots, but instead went for the mink. I signed the re-enrollment contract for my daughter to return in 10 days time to her old school. Now hang on there, I'm not saying private school is like slaughtering a thousand crying minks for your own warmth. It costs more than that. But I am saying that I reached an important conclusion in the days leading up to my presumably dramatic return after which I will be split across the aisle, a parent in two worlds.
Here is what I thought about. It was the twin girls in the chilly, leaky apartment in the Moscow slums. Those two girls were very different. In fact, I remember that I liked one a lot more than the other. One was bookish, one was musical. One was serious and the other was funny. I won't tell you which I liked better because that would be rude and they might be reading. But, here's the thing that's for sure - they were two very different people.
As are my children and, if you have children, likely so are they. I seem to have some children who thrive in the cold Moscow winter with their father's wool trench coat and some who need more shelter from the elements, a mink stole of sorts. My two middle children seem to be thriving and in many ways excelling in the world of clear standards, strict rules and competition. My 1st grader in particular is enamored with his teacher and enjoys the routines and structure of the classroom. My 3rd grader though, is just stressed. And a (really smart and awesome) 3rd grader shouldn't be stressed about her hours of homework, she should be loving learning like her younger siblings.
That she is not loving and embracing learning because she is busy keeping all of the requirements straight and being sure to excel against each of them, is most disturbing. She is the kind of person who thrives on being hugged by a thick, warm coat on a chilly winter day. She likes the community of learning and the process of learning more than the possession of the resulting facts.
In the USSR we slept on an overnight train between Moscow and St. Petersburg. In my car, we drank vodka to keep warm and couldn't sleep all night. In the next car, the kids couldn't fend off the sleep to escape from the cold. And so it is - whether it's wool or mink, vodka or sleep, navigating the signs of life is hard work when they are written in another language. And my greatest responsibility as I see it is to do my best to provide each child the tools that they uniquely need to make the hard choices ahead in life. Though the tools and schools are different, rest assured, none of them are 3 meals a day of cabbage and black bread and hopefully no one will need a mink for protection.
Whatever the school, I hope that everyone will end up being able to find a "PECTOPAH" when they really need it.
Breaking Ground
What comes to your mind when you think of "breaking ground"? I think about the shiny new junior high building at our old school. Or perhaps the sparkling new school that we're at now. I think about a new thought or idea that is innovative and filled with potential - a ground breaking idea. I infrequently consider the letter "g" but I suppose I'm yet again the only one.
The letter "g" is ground breaking in that it goes below the line that you're suppose to write on. Like this: g. Well, the typed "g" is apparantly only a little bit ground breaking, it hasn't quite realized it's delicious potential as a letter.
Today, was our first parent teacher conference. We were allotted 20 minutes while the kids went to music and fortunately arrived promptly. The teacher who is completely lovely, rushed us through a thick folder of kindergarten level tests, showing off 100% after 100% before she broke the bad news. Our son just isn't up to snuff in writing. "His g's don't break the ground and his i's don't touch the ground. See?" And then we were shown a standardized kindergarten penmanship paper that should have better demonstrated the flaw that we were somewhat unable to recognize. The 'g' that he had made rested above the line.
We actually know, have had regular contact with, and really like this teacher so she quickly sized up our absolutely all-consuming horror. If you've read much of this written account of our adventures in school swapping (it is like wife swapping but you don't get your own wife back), then you probably know that our horror was not related to the fear that our son's "g's and i's" have of the ground. It was related to the littany of tests splayed before us. She quickly let us know that "every single kindergartener in the state takes these exact same tests and if I ruled the world, well, things might be different but they aren't".
And here is what we have spent 3 years paying for (which this very kind teacher now knows). We paid for and seem to have adopted a ground breaking disdain for standardized testing, a feeling that we don't have standard kids, and a certain validation of our perspective which looks something like "he won't go up for his Bar Mitzvah with his g's above the line". But I do wonder if we needed to pay for that perspective. If there isn't perhaps a way to manage "testing" without really showcasing it to the children or letting them know about their shortcomings. If there isn't a way for them to succeed and excel without knowing, all the while actually collecting, the metrics.
I asked subtly about this idea but it seems that the skills "build" on each other year after year so the ability to create the written 'g' in all it's perfect glory is prized beyond a single classroom. Which, as we all know, means that it's a system and not a classroom that requires conquering and redefining. And that system conquerization is probably more that I'm up for.
Another little example. On our Kindergartener's report card (21 dimensions were rated therein), he received mostly "Growth" on his behaviors. Now, as you well know, he is a "green" kid and so I would by fibbing were I to say that I wasn't surprised by the "B" equivalent against most behavioral standards. I asked about this in the conference today and was met with a curious and insightful reply. The reply was this: "most kids get a G rating because we don't want them to get an S (the next highest) and have nothing to work toward for the rest of the year". As though a 5 year old would get in his mind that he should rest on his laurels and start acting up because he had Kindergarten in the bag. Or some parent might pressure their kid to step it up because they didn't achieve to the highest kindergarten rating. Well, maybe they would. I guess I just wouldn't. And maybe this system that I'm plotting my battle plans for as we speak, isn't made up of people who think like me. Bummer.
Oh, I learned too today that my son, among his very specific array of faults, couldn't identify a sphere when he began kindergarten. How embarrassing for me.
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