2015 Elementary School 5K

Last spring, Helen ran her second 5K and Connor ran his third. Somehow, I never wrote up the run, even though I remember it as being both a huge accomplishment and a fun time.

Prior to the race, we spent about one month preparing. Inspired by our monthly physical challenge, we ran a half mile one day, took a rest day, ran half a mile, one mile, then another rest day, and we kept adding to our distance until we hit about 2.5 or 3 miles. By the time the big day came, the kids were totally ready. Helen was even ready with a strategy that would involve her sprinting to the finish. I know Connor planned to do this as well, but since Ed ran with him, I'm not sure if it actually happened, though I think it did.

Helen was part of the cheer squad for the 1 mile fun run, but I had already told her that no matter what, she was running the 5K. We had worked too hard to not do it, and it is super important to me that Helen knows she can be in the action on the race course, not just on the sideline.

Connor and Helen both knocked several minutes off their Jingle Bell 5K time they had recorded in December 2014. (Helen made it to 35:23 and Connor checked in with a 28:47). Unlike the Jingle Bell race, which was mostly flat, the school 5K involved a pretty good hill. All the way up it I sang silly songs - and though Helen pretended to be embarrassed occasionally, she was also laughing and not thinking about how hard she was working. And, when a person a few yards back shouted "please don't stop singing" when Helen and I got to the top, Helen loved being able to roll her eyes and pretend that she didn't need the song at all.

When we got to the finish, a bunch of adults were running down the sidewalk leading to the end. Helen wasn't quite sure what to do, because they weren't sprinting. So I shouted "spring through the grass" and she took off, passing probably 6 - 10 runners in the last half block or so. She felt so incredibly strong, and it was a joy to see her huge smile. She was particularly proud because everyone she passed was older than she was.

Per usual, she complained throughout much of the race. But unlike the last race where she stopped to walk a few times, she pretty much chugged right along, possibly because she didn't want anyone she knew to see her not going full blast.

Since she completed this race, she has told many, many people about her MULTIPLE 5Ks and without batting an eye will let anyone know she can run one with no trouble.

Next up? This year's Turkey Trot or Jingle Bell.

(I love training with Connor, but we haven't raced together. I feel guilty subjecting Ed to the endless stream of complaints from Helen while she runs, and I don't want to mess up the good groove Connor and Ed have going.)

Elaine

Helen's Softball Wrap-up

I think we convinced Helen to wear a pair of Connor's old baseball pants to exactly one game this season. They simply are not stylish enough for her, and since there was probably only one other girl who wore them, we didn't have much of an argument about them being part of the required uniform.

Helen possibly agreed that pants might work better than shorts (even though there's no sliding in her league - or at least no intentional sliding), so she took to wearing a pair of leggings under her jersey.

All of her games happened early in the morning, so either Ed or I trotted out to each game with coffee in hand. We both went to a few games, which gave me the opportunity to snap a few photos of Ed's mid-game coaching session with Helen.

I suspect every softball photo I have that includes an adult also includes a coffee cup.

Ready for action! She was actually quite aggressive in the field, and got pretty good at tracking down balls and flinging them in the correct direction.

And she also became a pretty reliable hitter. 

Helen is much better at softball than she thinks, but as confident as she is about many things, that confidence doesn't seem to overflow into her softball life. But I'm pretty sure she's planning on giving it at least one more season.

Go Hurricanes!

Elaine

Think First

Like everyone else with a child in elementary school (and probably at all school levels), I am getting crushed by the end of the school year. It happens every year, and I feel about it the same way my research assistant feels about a project we do together annually - if it doesn't result in at least two heart attacks and one instance of forgetting our names, we haven't really done the project.

The biggest lessons I have learned is to back the eff off in June and respond quickly. As soon as an email comes asking for money to thank some person who has no doubt, done something amazing for my child, I put cash in an envelope with the person's name on it, and deliver it ASAP. I know these (mostly moms) are hunting down a lot of people, and they don't need the trouble of having to ask multiple times for something. I also quick-scan all class or activity party invites and decide what I can realistically bring, sign up, and move on. For Connor's classes, I always volunteer to bring a treat. He's picky, his friends all tell me how much they love my baking (which endears me greatly to them), and I know whatever I bring will be appreciated (and it might be the only treat at the party Connor likes). For Helen, I let the pinterest moms do their thing (thank you - your thing is always amazing), and take something that's easy to prepare. If someone needs napkins, I volunteer those as well due to a napkin ordering mistake I made a few years ago which resulted in more napkins being delivered to my home than I have been able to use in the past several years.

I do not start new projects.

I do not ask other parents to do anything for me. We are all dying.

I organize a carpool to every bday party that isn't in the immediate neighborhood. For whatever reason, most of Connor's friends' parents tend to drive their kids both ways to everything. But the last two parties, I simply emailed one other parents and said "I can drive either way, want to carpool" and both times, I had the parent practically kiss me through email at the thought of not driving. One of the times, we were able to shove a third neighbor in the car which was awesome because his mom was - at the moment my note came - fretting about having to say no to the party because she couldn't figure out how to drive either way (which is no problem when there are three kids and two parents have already offered to drive).

Finally, I try very hard to be thoughtful about every decision that is not on the above list, because I know when I'm busy I make crappy decisions. I have already scheduled a playdate when my parents are supposed to be arriving - and it's a playdate that got rescheduled to that time because I had to first cancel it about 45 minutes after making it when I realized I was not going to be home to host the playdate. Gah! So...I'm hoping my parents don't curse me too badly for either sitting at the airport for me waiting for the playdate to end, or having to hop on the subway or a cab.

I also try not to overreact, which is why I'm posting here, instead of on Facebook. For real, I received an email today asking me to BID ON A SPOT to recreate the first grade musical with parents on the last day of school and donate the proceeds to a music department in need.

My thoughts, in this order:

1. That performance was for our children. Yes, parents. I get it. We have all memorized every line in that show after hearing it sung over, and over, and over, and over these past couple of months. But guess what? That performance is not ours. Yes, we could recreate the show. We could also talk loudly to our children about how we ride bikes up hills faster, read better, and can totally kick ass at the monkey bars (well, maybe they own that last one). But we shouldn't. It's their show.

2. Rehearsing at home would only mean Helen would likely be prompted to sing the score over, and over, and over, and over - with Connor joining in frequently. I've lived that hell (twice), I'm not encouraging it to happen again.

3. It's a children's show. It was not designed for adults to perform. There's a fine line between engaging in something with your child and mocking them.

4. If there is a music department that needs money, surely we can get it to them without going through the trouble of a performance and the two or three rehearsals that are planned. Asking me to take part in this is a demand on my time that I simply don't have in June.

I'm thinking before responding to that email, and I'm glad I had the presence of mind to do so. I'll be sitting this one out. I hope the other parents do as well. And Helen, when you read this, let it be known that you were the best damn Crabby Cabbage that How Does Your Garden Grow has ever seen. And I hope you always remember how much fun you had sharing your role with Miley and how the two of you, in your words, "could not stop laughing during part of the show because you were having so much fun." I almost missed that performance, and I almost had a heart attack when I thought I didn't get it on film. I am so proud of the work you did - even if it did make me want to put ear plugs in and run outside because the thought of hearing the musical even one more time was driving me nuts when the show got close.

But you know what my role was? Costume assistant. And I had a ball meeting other moms to take on this task. You noticed right away that I had put special golden gems on your cabbage, and you thought they were divine.

I'll update with the video - probably some time in July.


Love,
Mom

Stop. Don't Touch.

There are a few lessons that mothers want to teach their children early. And one of them is to learn to tell people to leave them alone. And so I did a little fist pump in the air when I was volunteering in Helen's class and saw she had made this sign, after a few kids were messing with a craft project she had brought for "fun Friday".

She said it didn't work as well as she had hoped, but she still posts the sign on her desk each Friday as she works on her craft project. And reportedly children are getting better at following it.

Elaine

Science Fair

Last night, the elementary school hosted their second annual Science Fair. Students could participate alone or in groups - or not at all. Helen and Connor both decided to participate. Helen chose an individual project and Connor opted to work with a friend of his.

When Helen and I started preparing for the science fair several weeks ago, I asked her what she'd like to do. She said she would like to see what kind of tree grows the fastest. I told her maybe if she started now, she'd have quite a project by the time fifth grade rolled around. So she kept thinking. She likes nature, so wanted something to do with that. At some point, she remembered when we tried to make rock candy and totally failed - so she decided we should do that.

Her question - do different kinds of sugar form crystals, or just white sugar? I helped her test brown sugar, white sugar, powdered sugar, and maple syrup. For each, we added about 3 parts sugar to 1 part water. Helen recorded her observations daily, and was very excited when she started seeing crystals.

She was incredibly excited to share her display, and kept telling me how many comments she had received. She returned the comment love by writing "awesome" or "cool" on pretty much every science project she stopped to check out.

Connor and a friend folded paper airplanes to see which one flew the furthest. He was a little more low-key about the whole affair, probably because he'd spent his early release day bouncing from one set of friends to the next, and was tired by the time evening came around.

His project did present a nice opportunity to discuss measurement error and Ed was very close to discussing standard errors, but opted to hold that lesson for another day.

This whole thing was basically started by one motivated mom at Connor and Helen's school. She rocks! (And no, it is not me!!)

Elaine

PS - a few students decided to do experiments involving mentos and soda, which of course reminded me of this day, and made me laugh again about the whole thing.

Thank you, other mom

There is a mom in Helen's class that volunteers to help children with their handwriting and reading once a week. She's a consistent presence in the class, and I know Helen loves her. Helen is one of those children who - at least at the start of the year - needed a fair amount of extra attention.

When the mom works with Helen, she never tells me about how Helen's letters are getting more legible or any other academic comment. What she says to me is this - and she's said it on a number of occasions - "I just love Helen. She is always so nice to every other child in the class. She is just a joy."

And every time she says it, I almost cry, because I am so stinkin' proud of that kid.

Thank you, other mom, you have brought me more joy this year than you will ever know.

Elaine

The Signers and the Non-Signers

Once upon a time, I was the kind of parent who signed her child's school paper every single night - just as the teacher asked. But then one day, I just stopped. I didn't stop caring about my child's progress, I guess I just got tired of signing.

That day was towards the end of Connor's first grade year. I like to think I was pretty much the most kick-ass-paper-signer-of-all-time up to that point. And then I just fell apart. I remember realizing it when I looked in his notebook and had to flip back quite a few pages to find my last signature.

I was sorting papers in Helen's class a few weeks ago. And I have to admit, as good as I was at signing stuff when Connor was in first grade, these parents put me to shame. Many of them signed not just the box marked "parent initials", they signed their full name next to each line of the paper. They, by the way, are all parents of first born children.

Poor Helen, she never even got to witness all my kick-ass-signing glory. As I was sorting papers and got to hers, I noticed this. It's not that I don't care - I just fail to sign.

Helen is super proud of the forgery, and occasionally requests that I not sign, even though I now try and sign the paper before she turns it in each Friday. Sometimes, Helen asks Connor to sign. When I texted this photo to my sister and mom, my sister wrote back "looks like she's pretty close to Ed's", which of course made me laugh out loud while I was volunteering in the class.

Good thing I know the teacher well. Otherwise, she might request Helen bring another parent to class with her!

Elaine

We Never Eat Science

Helen received a gift subscription of Little Passports from my mom for her birthday. This month, the packet took us to South Dakota. One of the items in the packet was a science experiment to better understand erosion, which was discussed in the context of the Badlands.

The experiment called for dropping different amounts of water on Skittles to see what happens. Before we started, Helen admonished Connor and I saying "we never eat science". This, of course, is not true, since we eat science every time we bake, so I asked Helen where she got that idea from.

It is a rule in her first grade class.

And in a first grade classroom, that rule makes a lot of sense.

Several hours later, our Skittles have nearly eroded away entirely, except the purple one which was doused with the fewest drops of water. I'm wondering if it will hang on until morning. And luckily, because we never eat science, I will get to find out!

This started out as four Skittles that did not touch each other.

Elaine

Crushing the spelling test

Three weeks ago, in this space, I pointed out Helen's inability to grasp spelling and owning the (very few) words she did get right, rather than focusing on the majority of words which she spelled incorrectly.

Since then, Helen learned to read. As in, she will pick up a book, not act like she is completely intimidated by it - and proceed to attempt to read it, even if it's above her reading level. Watching Connor help her may be my favorite thing happening in the universe right now.

Along with reading, naturally, Helen is cracking the code to spelling. She was determined to score 100 percent on her spelling test this week. So determined, in fact, that when she was sick on Thursday, she insisted that she would be well on Friday because she "needed to take her spelling test".

She was well, so off to school she went. There was a substitute teacher in the afternoon. I was volunteering in the class to put together the information packets and papers that go home each Friday with the students, when I came upon Helen's spelling test. The grade hadn't been recorded, so I couldn't take the paper home - but I did show it to Helen.

8/8

Helen's remark "but I was sure I got 100 percent!".

Me: "You did, Helen - of the eight words you were asked to spell, you spelled eight correctly".

She was so stinkin' proud of herself she called Ed at his office to share her news.

I figure we can talk about math another day.

Elaine

Reports from the Lunchroom / The Sharing Table

Connor is not a fan of food. He does not seek it out and he rarely tries new things unless told to do so. Helen, on the other hand, is more adventurous with food. As a result, I'm learning a lot about how the lunchroom at the elementary school operates.

1. The Sharing Table - according to Helen, there is a table in the lunchroom called "the sharing table". The table is near the trash bins, and the idea is that you may leave behind any whole fruit or packaged item that you have not started to consume. At first, Helen told me, she thought the sharing table was just for "all those kids in wheelchairs who come into the cafeteria who always forget their lunch money". Until one magical day, a friend of hers who was at the school in Kindergarten told her that anyone may take anything off the table. KA-CHING! This sent Helen into a bit of a frenzy, collecting items that looked particularly appealing. But, the catch is, you have to peer at the table from your seat - because "the mean lunch ladies do not like it when you leave your assigned table" - and then make a dash for whatever food item you want. Helen almost always brings her own lunch, so she's not actually a contributor to the sharing table - she's just a taker.

Connor's comment when asked about the sharing table: "I guess there's one. I never look at it.".

2. Try New Foods - a few parents run a campaign to "Be Your Body's Best Friend". The campaign centers around improving nutrition; teaching children they need a lot of sleep, few sugar drinks, and limited screen time; and improving exercise habits by encouraging children to walk to school on certain days and run a 1-mile or 5K run at the end of the school year.

One component of the nutrition piece is to encourage children to try new foods. Moms show up in the cafeteria regularly with post of soup, vegetables, and other nutritious offerings and the children my have a sample. They also bring recipes in case the children want to know how to make the food at home. The number of times Connor has approached the new foods table is probably one - enough to learn it was an activity he didn't care for. Helen? She's crushing at the new foods table and even won a pencil last week - which she loved - for knowing some facts being focused on in the campaign.

These moms, by the way, are saints - and the person heading it up graduated from culinary school, which I think is amazingly cool.

3. If you bring your lunch and your friend buys her lunch, you can try and spread out a lot when you get to your seat so that your friend may squeeze in when s/he acquires lunch. Tried and tested by years of students, including both Connor and Helen.

Helen and I used to visit Connor for lunch one or two times a year. With two children, my visit to the cafeteria will be a lot longer, which might do me in.

Elaine

Epic School Photos

School photos are always terrible. I purchase them each year out of some strange sense of obligation, and then when they arrive at my house, I hope they'll at least become points of family humor in the future.

On school picture day, Helen asked me if she could wear her wings. I was the pick-up parent that day, not the drop-off parent, so I told her she should ask Ed. I didn't want to break her heart and tell her no, because she had clearly carefully thought about her outfit, but I also wasn't sure wearing wings to school was kosher.

About five minutes after I arrived at my office, I received a phone call from home. It was Helen. She queried me once more about the wings. I asked her what Ed had said and she told me he had said to call me. Well...OK then.

In my moment of indecision, I decided to punt to the teacher. "Helen, if the wings are important to you, you can wear them - unless Mrs. H. tells you they're not allowed." And with that, she packed them in her backpack and headed off to school.

When it came time for photos, she ducked out of line, grabbed the wings from her locker, put them on, and hopped back in line.

Her teacher was surprised, but decided that it was a pretty impressive feat for Helen to remember them at the right time, so she gave them a pass. (When I told her we had punted to her, she laughed and thanked me. No way was Mrs. H. going to play the role of heartbreaker, which I guess I knew deep down.)

Helen got home that day and told me "everyone was giggling at my wings - even the older children!" She was so proud of her clothing choice.

The photos came home. And they are full of awesome. Definitely the best school photos that have ever graced our door. Even Connor's photo was good! I'm almost sad I didn't order more of them!

Elaine

Opposites

Parenting Helen and Connor can be a study in contrasts. Where one sees opportunity, the other finds obstacles. One skips, the other walks with a steady pace. One smiles when she sees anyone, one hopes he can remain in the background.


And so it was no surprise to me when Helen came home with her first spelling test two weeks ago. Teaching Helen to spell is like teaching a dolphin to walk. She is trying to figure out a system, but then all these words come at her that break the rules! So then even the words that follow a system baffle her, because she's expecting them to have a trick. While Connor can memorize pretty much anything, Helen memorizes things with meaning. Ask her to retell a story, and she can do so brilliantly. Ask her to spell "saw", after spelling it several times, and she will look at you with a blank stare, try and sound it out, and tentatively say "S-O-W?". Spelling a word once correctly is no guarantee that it has been learned.


The first spelling test had 8 words on it. Helen gleefully showed me her paper and proclaimed "I got TWO RIGHT!". And she was super proud, and I, of course, told her to "rock on, sister", because I don't worry about this stuff. Ed laughed and said "she is your child", because we both know Connor, who shares more of Ed's demeanor, would have come home and said "ugh, I got six wrong".


Neither Ed nor I can recall Connor taking spelling tests this early in school. We're wondering if they're new since he was in first grade, or if his teacher (who is the same as Helen's) just exempted him until he knew how to read, sensing that they would be a terrible thing for Connor.


Elaine

The Questions About First Grade

A few years ago, my friend started dating an ultra-marathoner - as in, he runs 100 miles at a time and runs shorter, but still insanely long distances on a regular basis. I will call him UltraMarathonMan, even though that's not his real name. My friend tended to date interesting people for short amounts of time. By the time Ed and I had dinner with UltraMarathonMan, a few months AFTER she had started talking about him, I figured he was doomed to the scrap heap soon. If there was anything I wanted to know, I better ask it.


And there was stuff I wanted to know. Questions about how you make your body move for over 24 hours. Do you sleep and run at the same time? What about the other standard body functions? And your feet...what do they look like after that? And what is the end game here? You injure yourself and never run again, or do you just get bored running and decide to do something else? I was interested in UltraMarathonMan in part because I had never even pondered running these distances and it was hard to understand.


It seems that Helen is her own version of UltraMarathonMan to the girls in first grade. Her teacher has been trying to get my attention after school in a subtle way, but after school is possibly the craziest 10 minutes of my life these days. I should describe that another time, but I start hyperventilating just thinking about how much action is contained in those few minutes.


Friday morning was the first chance the teacher and I had to connect, out of earshot of Helen.


Teacher: The other day on the playground, the girls came running up to me and had the following conversation.


Girls: Helen didn't learn anything in Kindergarten!


Teacher: What do you mean?


Girls: All she did was play all day. She didn't learn to read or write or anything!


Helen: Yep. I just played all day.


Now at this point, it strikes me that all the other girls should be saying "Dude, you have the most awesome parents in the universe! We were confined to desks and chairs and were taught rote skills that the research very clearly show have little to no benefit at our age." But instead, the girls are acting as if it is a problem that Helen neither reads nor writes proficiently, and still gets confused between what a 6 and 9 look like.


Teacher: Helen, did you learn how to be a good friend last year?


Helen: Yes!


Teacher: Did you learn how to play and make up games?


Helen: Yes!


Teacher: Then you know exactly what you are supposed to know to be in my class. You all should go play.


Girls: But we are going to teach her. We are going to help  her!


Teacher: No thanks. That's my job. I'll make sure Helen knows everything she needs to know.


I understand the girls are extremely curious about this non-academic Kindergarten class that Helen talks about. To them, she must be UneducatedCrazyGirl. And they've never run in to UneducatedCrazyGirl before, and her background was something that nobody ever talked about before. And they have questions, oh, they have questions.


So, girls, and anyone else who wonders what happened in that Waldorf classroom last year, here we go.


Did you learn anything? What did your classroom look like? What was your teacher like? What did you do all day? And what about the afternoons? Was there a lunch room? Was there recess? What about art? Did you miss out on anything? What is the end game, will you just be the dumbest kid in the class forever?


Answers: Yes. She learned how to deal with other people, she learned conflict resolution skills, she piled blocks, boards, rocks and other objects together in the greatest study of physics performed at the Kindergarten level of all time. She learned how to divide the toys in a fair way, and when she made pretend lunch in her pretend family, she learned that everyone shared in the meal. She learned that time moves in seasons, that the week and year have their own rhythms, and that she was in an extremely safe space. She perfected her finger knitting skills, made a sword, sewed a case for the sword, and like St. Michael, she is ready to conquer her dragons.


The classroom was painted in beautiful pastels. The room was free from distractions on the wall. Where you saw letters, words, and pictures cluttering every space on the walls and even the floor and ceiling sometimes, Helen saw a seasonal wool picture.


The teacher told some of the most beautiful stories she'll ever have the opportunity to hear. Her assistant teacher was as good as having a grandmother in the class, always smiling, always loving. Her teachers would clear space for play, but didn't direct the play. Her teachers were there to help her learn how to get along with everyone in the room, a skill I see adults fail at daily.


Afternoons were spent with her mom or a babysitter. They went to parks, shared a leisurely lunch, went swimming, painted on the sidewalks, made crepes, made yogurt cakes, and read stories. Lots of stories. You will hardly believe the vocabulary she has amassed at this point.


Nope. No lunch room. Snack was shared in a room with two tables, and Pico the gnome sat next to the children. Pico has very sensitive ears, so the children learned not to shout in his presence. Helen had the honor of placing Pico at the table every day. We have our own Pico, because Helen loved that gnome so much.


Officially, no recess. Helen started her day outside on the playground, moved inside for indoor play, and ended the day on the outside playground.


For art, Helen colored once a week and painted once a week. These creations were bound together and represent the only papers Helen brought home all year. I treasure them. All of the creations came from her imagination, and I can see how it changed over the year. She started out mostly working with different colors. Then there was a rainbow phase, a cave phase, a sunshine phase, and more.


Helen didn't miss out on anything she needed. You'll understand by the end of the year.


The end game? She'll rock first grade just like her brother and the other children from her Waldorf school who have gone through her elementary school. She comes with a rich vocabulary, a rich imagination, and she can pay attention better than anyone in the classroom. These things she'll carry with her for her whole life.


This afternoon, I'm going to be sure and talk to Helen about this. I think her best response is "My mom just wanted me to play!", which I think will mean her friends can start thinking of her as Helen, the girl with CrazyMom. I'm tough. I can take it.


Elaine

How to break your mama's heart in one quick step - and then put it back together

Day 1. Announce, matter-of-factly, while getting your hair braided, that you will probably be the dumbest kid in your whole class because you don't know how to read or write. Then, come home and tell your mom that you just played by yourself at recess because everybody else has so many friends from kindergarten!

Day 2. Announce you spent your whole recess running around with your new friends on the playground.

You got this, kid. Two more days and you will have completed week one.

On a side note, Helen has an extremely loose front tooth. Her plan was to pull it out on day one, but she changed her mind - and it's still hanging on. She discussed its looseness with at least one classmate, who told her that slamming a door would be a good way to get it out. Helen replied that at her home, they are not allowed to slam doors. So the classmate offered that apples are also a good way to get a loose tooth to fall out. Helen requested apples in her lunch today.

Elaine

Let's Start This Thing Right - Grade 1

Dear Mrs. H.,

Another year has started. I am thrilled Helen will be in your class. You were amazing with Connor. I'll never forget two things about you. First, you have been teaching for many years now, but you bring an energy to the classroom that is hard to miss. Second, you recognized Connor's every change and changed right along with him. Thank you. I realize I'm sending you another child who cannot read, but I know she'll be rocking this by the end of the year, due in large part to that magic you work on a daily basis.

And thank you in advance for every day you come into my child's classroom and insist that she be her best. Thank you for every time you agree to meet with me (trust me, it won't just be at conference time - but you already know this). And mostly, for every time you absolutely insist that every child in your classroom treat you and every other child in that classroom with respect and kindness, thank you. And thank you also for that day when you look up and notice my child for the individual she is. You're helping me raise one of the two people I love most in the world, one of the two people's who success I care about more than any other, and one of the the two people who carry little parts of my heart and soul with them everywhere they go. Take care of her, please, she is my everything. Our hearts bruise more easily than we might let on.

I'm going to give you enough information about Helen that you won't have to bore her by trying to figure this out in the first month of the school year. Efficiency is the name of the game, friend. I'm not giving you a free pass this year, and I expect you not to give Helen a free pass either. We're all going to have to work hard - this is the year it all begins for Helen. Please use your time thoughtfully, I promise to return the favor.

Helen has never sat at a desk for longer than it takes to complete an art project - and typically, she's on the floor when she's working on her art projects at home. It's just more comfortable down there. Plus, if she sits on the floor, both her desk AND chair can serve as horizontal surfaces on which to stash things. Did I mention Helen loves stuff?

This love of stuff is important. You see, Helen's trying to be an inventor - like Violet in the Lemony Snickets books. Just this past summer she created a lifesaving device that can be used on our rafting trips, a chocolate mint cake that is divine (DO NOT EAT! IT CONTAINS MUD!), headbands that she is marketing to other girls with crazy hair, and she crafted a blanket from potholders. If nothing else, that last item shows you her sense of dedication to a project! She is also learned to knit last week and already has about 2 feet of a scarf completed - a scarf that is so precious she plans to gift it to every member of the house. But I already know once it's completed it'll be used for something else entirely.

I know you will notice this immediately when you meet Helen, but she is tiny. Like - off-the-charts, looks like she can't open a door tiny. And when she's a little intimidated, I swear she can become even tinier and someday, you might look around and wonder where the heck she is. If you are like most people, you will be physically drawn to doing things for her. I know this phenomena well - I've lived it. Just ask my older sister who still resents all the reaching and door opening she did for me. But here's the rub. Resist this temptation to do physical things for her. Let her spend the longest minute of your life as she struggles with that door, and eventually figures out how to get enough leverage to open it. Because if you don't, you are selling her short. And that's not helping anybody. She actually can climb from floor to stool to counter to cabinet to get a glass, climb back down, open that refrigerator door that looks so heavy compared to her, fill up the water glass with the pitcher that is entirely too full for a little girl to handle, and deliver a glass of water to each person sitting at the dinner table. This appears hugely inefficient - which I already alluded to not liking, but you know what? She is really proud of the system she devised - by herself. And she needs to know you have confidence in her to perform basic activities as well. Go spend a minute with that kid at the back of the line teaching him about patience, and let her get that door for you. Please be mindful of the long-term. You may only spend a year with her, but if I'm lucky, I'm going to spend a lot more of them with her. She needs to have the confidence it takes to maneuver through this world.

Helen has a terrible sense of direction. And while she has mostly adapted to this, it can make things seem scarier than you might imagine. She comes by this honestly from me and her maternal grandma. Sorry about that. But here's my advice: do not send her on a mission alone unless you are willing to lose her. She's unlikely to break the perimeter, so you have that going for you, but she's also highly unlikely to get from point A to point B in any sort of reasonable manner. We've lived in our home for five years now and still, she must pause to figure out where the front door is and where the back door is. Did I mention the back of our house is mostly windows - so she can SEE the backyard?

Helen cannot stand being unable to do something, and like most kids, she'll feign not being interested. But as soon as she figures it out? She will follow along full tilt. As long as she knows you're not going to give up on her, she won't give up on herself, either.

Look, I know the days can be long. Days with a particularly stubborn little girl can be even longer. Just keep moving. Your smile and calm will get you and Helen through this year.

Call me if you get stuck or think things could be going better. I promise I will be able to figure out what's going on in less than an hour. And if you don't need me, that's fine, too. I'll be the mom in the back of the room putting together Friday folders and sharpening pencils. I loved spending time in your classroom three years ago. I'm going to love it even more this year, I think.

Elaine

Sailing on...take two!

Remember three years ago when Connor ended his time at our beloved Waldorf school? I do. Like it was yesterday. Helen, too, has ended her stint at Waldorf school. And this time, it was even harder to say good-bye. Oh, we'll go back for the fall festival and maybe the auction dinner for a few years - but realistically, our time at the school has ended.

There will be no more daily trips to South Arlington - no more juggling cars and different start times to make sure each child ends up at the right place at the right time each morning.

There will also be no more playground drop-offs. Unlike Connor, Helen knows this is coming. I still get choked up when I think of that first morning dropping Connor off in first grade. I knew he was in good hands. And I'm desperately hoping that Helen will be placed in those same good hands. But still, when you spend three years of your life being dropped off on the playground, it's quite jarring to be dropped off in a classroom - with desks - that are used for sitting!

In her first grade readiness evaluation, Helen's teacher had no doubt she was ready to move on. But he also noted that Helen has a shy side. She didn't show this often in Kindergarten this past year, but when faced with something new, Helen will turn inwards. She'll wait and watch until she figures something out, these days, and then she'll try and do it better than anyone else. Sometimes, this is a winning strategy. Sometimes, this is a strategy that results in a lot of anxiety. I have a feeling we'll both be doing a lot of slow breathing these next few months.

Helen's last handwork project in Kindergarten was making a sword. She cut the wood, fitted it together, sanded it carefully, and sewed a case to keep it in. She loves this sword. She's ready to take on the world.

At her year-end class picnic, Helen jumped rope for so long, her teacher nearly ran out of songs to sing. Helen was not only pleased, she shouted to me the glory of her accomplishment. Will there be anyone to turn the rope for her daily next year - or support whatever new thing she tries to tackle?

Helen, you are more ready than you could possibly know to take on the next phase of your life. I only wish I was as ready to say good-bye!

Elaine

And kudos to my mom. She made the dress Helen is wearing when I was a little girl. I loved that dress, and remember showing anyone who would watch how far it would twirl out. At her current school, she is the envy of all her friends in that dress. Will the new girls in her class understand the fabulousness of this dress? Or will they only see it as not something girls typically wear? 

A Summary of Learning in First Grade

Tonight, I started going through Connor's writing notebook. I learned the following.

9-27: Write about a time when someone helped you. "My mom helped me play soccer." For the record, I have no idea what Connor is talking about here. I don't play soccer.

1-2-12: "On Christmas morning I ran down stares. I saw a big pile of pres". Apparently, he was so excited by the reliving of this memory that he couldn't finish the word presents. And just how do you run down a stare?

In answer to another writing prompt which is not in the book, Connor wrote "We would do whatever we wanted to do." Good luck on that one, friend.

Facts about Susan B. Anthony. "She died in New York. She died in 1906. She worked in New York and Kansas." I have no idea if any of this is true, but way to fit Kansas in there!

Facts about Pocahontas. "Pocahontas made peace. Pocahontas learned how to read. Pocahontas was a princess." Clearly, she was busy. And clearly, girls are not the only children who are impressed by princesses!

A lesson on hygiene? "It is important to care for my teeth because if you do not have teeth, you can't chew." I see Connor has forgotten here that he doesn't actually like to eat. Having no teeth might be a good thing for him.

A budding environmentalist, in March he wrote "The dumps are almost full. They take some garbage to a barge that takes it far away. The environment is getting dirty." Then stop creating so much trash!

"If you give a dog a race car, he'll want to get a license. He'll want to be famous, so he'll go to the racetrack." Eat your heart out, Laura Numeroff.

Grading himself? "My poems good cas it has too in it a lot and it has 100 words." If only I could see the poem.

"I am silly."

Definition of a dragon. "A dragon is big and eats deer and is very fast." Thank you, I know just what I'm looking for now.

Baseball game. "A dude was going to 2nd base. I had the ball. I tagged the base. That dude was out." Yep, I saw it all.

5-15-12 "One time I was helping my mom set the table. Every dude was hungry." I'm not sure I've ever heard Connor refer to me as a dude.

"I will never eat brussel sprouts. I love to eat ice cream." Yeah, well what about brussels sprouts flavored ice cream?

The future. "When I grow up I want to be a bike racer caus I'm good biker." I hope so, because grammar isn't your thing.

Elaine

Final Week

We made it. We're in the last week of school. It will include 2 early release days (thank you, Arlington County!), an awards day (where Connor has predicted he will get an award for being so well-behaved. Confident little dude - don't you think? [edited to add he received the award of class mathemagician]), a game day (where hopefully he will find someone who loves Monopoly as much as he does, I'm looking at you, A!), and a picnic in the park. This seems like a pretty fine wrap-up to me. Only thing better would be if school was already out.

Today was the award ceremony and picnic. During the award ceremony, Mrs. H. showed a slideshow of class photos and a photo of Helen was included. Nice touch, I thought. Helen could not have been more pleased. When her photo came up, Mrs. H. announced "honorary member". And at the picnic today, Helen spent her time bouncing from friend to friend in first grade.

I looked back at the post I wrote to start the year, and what strikes me is that what I wanted most was for Mrs. H. to recognize that she had a great kid in front of her. She did that in spades. From start to finish, Connor has felt loved. She challenged him when he needed to be challenged, she called him on a piece of sub-par work when it was necessary, and wow did she give it everything she had, particularly in those scary first days. Connor's teacher was as steady as could be with him. She was gentle, she was kind, and she absolutely recognized that though his background was different than most, it was not inferior.

I learned that it's a hard thing to drop your kid off in a classroom knowing that your child (my child), because of the background I had chosen, was going to struggle with reading. This, followed with the realization that Connor did not know how to hold a pencil. There was, most definitely, a moment or two when my stomach flip-flopped, and I questioned my choice to keep Connor at the Waldorf school - and for reference, I regularly tell people that sending my children to a Waldorf school was the best parenting decision Ed and I ever made. Those were hard days for me, and though Connor never came home mad at me, I'm guessing they were pretty hard for him, too. Now? I'm totally giving myself a pat on the back. As it turns out, that year of Kindergarten at Potomac Crescent was the perfectly right year for Connor. But I'm well aware it could have ended up being disasterous, if Connor had another first grade teacher. One day, I asked Mrs. H. how burdensome it was for her, and whether I should consider sending Helen to Kindergarten at public school. She was so cool. She told me things always worked out and there was no need for me to change course with Helen.

I learned a few nights ago at an evening event with adults from Connor's school about something else Connor's teacher did those first few weeks. She specifically instructed another parent when the parent was helping Connor with work that she should only discuss letters in terms of their shapes - that he came from a non-academic background. Does she even know that's how the alphabet is taught at a Waldorf school? It's as simple as straight lines and curved lines. That's a little gift Connor's teacher gave me without Connor or I even noticing.

The most important thing Connor's teacher did for Connor - and I'm sure she does it for all the students in her class - was to recognize that things change. So while he started out in the worst reading group (and I'm using the term "reading" very loosely), when he finally caught on to reading, she advanced him right up those reading groups until a few weeks ago when she announced to me Connor was reading at the 6th grade level. Connor is, for the most part, a very easy going kid - and he never would've protested a placement in a reading group. His teacher could've easily left him to the side of the road and not watched his advancement, but she didn't. She was on it the whole time.

In the end, kids stuggle. People struggle. It's probably where we find our humanity. And from beginning to end, Connor was supported by a great teacher. She may, in fact, be the one he remembers for a long time.

We won't be doing a single academic thing this summer. We'll be playing and painting and vacationing. We've earned it!

I sent this kid to school in September:

I'm getting this one back for the summer:

Elaine

Contracts - I'll Pay You $100 if You'll Just Write, Connor

Connor really doesn't like to write. And when he does write, it doesn't bother him at all that his writing is sloppy. That just kills me. As a former pre-school teacher, I spent a fair amount of time learning to make all my letters just so. I also remember in elementary school really enjoying when we got to practice writing.

A couple of weeks ago, Connor approached me wanting me to give him $100 for doing chores around the house. I told him he'd have to submit a contract for the committee to discuss.

Initially, he proposed to make his bed daily, clean up the play rooms, and sweep the floors. During our negotiations, I changed out making his bed (a task his babysitter already does daily) to taking out the trash. The latter is much more useful to me than the former - except last week was a bad first week because I had tossed a bunch of Helen and Connor's toys in the trashcan, and Connor was a little surprised to discover them there. Oops!

At first, he wanted to be paid annually, but after thinking about how a screw-up could mean no pay for the year, he decided weekly would work better.

He thought I was being super generous by allowing him two weeks of paid vacation. Please don't tell him that my current job gives me seven weeks of paid vacation. He immediately asked if he didn't take his vacation if he could save it. (Maybe he's planning on having a baby and needs the leave?)

At the last minute, I added in a "no subcontracting" clause, as it seemed like Connor was already preparing to go Tom Sawyer on me and convince Helen to do his new chores.

After much back and forth, we agreed upon the following contract.

I want to be paid $100 a year for taking out the trash and recycling with Dad, cleaning the play rooms, and sweeping he floor. I will get two weeks of paid vacation, otherwise - no pay for no work. Half pay for half work. Vacations can accumulate over multiple years. No subcontracting allowed. Connor 4-23

After getting his signed contract, Connor announced the good news to Ed. Not to be left out, Helen came in demanding her own contract. (Unions, sheesh!).

Helen was a bit more ambitious in her desired chores, and she actually doesn't care if she gets paid or not. She was thinking though, because she remembered that the home we recently completed a home exchange with had a cat. Score!

If we get a puppy, I will take care of it forever and ever. And if we get a cat, I will take care of the cat and give it food and water every day.  - and then the next set of letters is Helen's signature.

- Elaine

Connor Joins the Ranks of Men Everywhere in the Relationship Department

Me: Connor, what's up with E?
Connor: I don't know. For a long time, we were going to marry each other. Then, she got mad at me.
Me: Why?
Connor: I have no idea.

You might not realize it now, Connor, but there are men across the globe sharing this same thought with you tonight.