Soccer

Both Connor and Helen are playing soccer this year, and as part of that effort, Connor has taken to coaching Helen in the backyard. It's super awesome, because we can run around outside after dinner until it gets dark, sweating, laughing, and passing the ball. Helen's coach constantly tells me how great and aggressive Helen is, and I suspect part of the reason Helen is willing to chase down the ball is because she's used to doing it with Connor. Second grade girls are less intimidating than fifth grade boys.

Helen typically plays hard, from the moment she steps onto the field until the moment she steps off. In the rare moment when she starts to sag, I yell the only thing I will say to her when she plays soccer - "no quits". She instantly pops out of her sag and keeps going. She is finally starting to believe how strong she is, which is a great joy for me to see.

Connor has turned it up a notch on the field. He plays hard, he can keep up with most of the kids, and rather than shying away from the ball, he's getting right in the middle of the action. He's had a few nice kicks, which have made him feel pretty good.

During the first game of the season, he answered his coach's call to play goalie. I thought he was crazy to do this, but figured I should stay out of it (which I did). However, when I saw him in front of that huge goal, in a game that was tied 0 - 0, I was terrified for him.

He played all right, but then let a goal in. This clearly disturbed him greatly, and he looked a bit ill. Ninety percent of me wanted to tell the coach "just put us all out of our misery - take him out", but I did not. I sat on my hands and reminded myself that Connor doesn't need his mama to save him. In fact, he needs to be up against the wall, feeling stress, and realizing that he can get through it. (And perhaps I need this, too.)

In the end, he made a couple of stops, kept the ball out of the goal, and rejoiced when his friend Sam got a goal evening up the score. After the game, he reported how stressful playing goalie was, and let me know he never plans to do it again.

I was secretly happy about that.

Elaine

Biking to Gymnastics

Helen started taking gymnastics a couple of weeks ago. A studio moved in near our home, and lo' and behold, they have beginning classes designed for girls older than three. Helen's last attempt at gymnastics was deemed a total disaster by her, because all she wanted to learn to do was a cartwheel, and they never taught her that. (Never mind that she needed to learn some easier things, first.)



Because it is September, and our family fitness challenge is to bike, Helen and I have been riding to her class. Getting there is no problem. It's basically downhill the whole way, and we only have one city street to cross that requires hopping off our bikes and walking across the street.

But that means that getting home is basically uphill the whole way. On week 1, I tried to route us a little out of our way so we'd have a little more flat territory to cross along with the hills. I was not fully successful, which resulted in Helen crashing on her bike.



She was an absolute rock star, taking it all in stride, and hopping right back on her bike to get home.

On week 2, I had a better route, and there was only one small portion where I needed to give Helen a shove up a hill near our home.



This week, as I was going through her Friday folder, I found her artistic version of our week one ride.

I believe she is saying "ow-ee", not "owe" as in "you owe, me, Mom".



I'm pretty impressed with her very accurate drawing of me. All that running has clearly paid off. And biking with a purse takes a lot of talent!

Elaine



AN UPDATE: Helen clarified that the picture she drew was an example of when she was being a "good citizen". Laying on the ground with no helmet is Connor, after falling from his bike in the backyard. (For the record, I didn't even know about this injury until this discussion about the picture came up.) Riding her bike with no helmet and offering assistance to Connor is Helen. Helen told me I should have known this, because Connor's bike is green. I reminded her that she and I have blue eyes, but Connor has brown eyes. I'm pretty sure her response to me was "what-ever", which is her basic response to everything that annoys her lately.

First day!

The first day of school went off without a hitch. ON TIME ARRIVAL - motivated at least in part by a neighbor coaxing us to the starting line with muffins. And while I had the best intentions to arrive at school right on time at the end of the day, I only managed to do this because I saw I had about 12 seconds of crosswalk time left when I rounded the hill at the top of the street leading to the school, and I turned on the gas. As I ran through I shouted a greeting to the crossing guard and added "picking up right where we left off". He laughed. This was followed by a second day sprint bike ride from the subway which did get me to school right as the bell rang.

We went to the baseball game after school the first day, only to witness ANOTHER 7th inning collapse by our home team. Getting into the play-offs is starting to seem a distant possibility. As Ed noted last night, now the whole house can commit itself to the Royals. On the way to the game, the metro stopped for an enormous amount of time, but thankfully the kids and I had books so we spent the time reading. I may finish my book club book yet, despite my late start on it.

Second day brought a sick Connor, so he stayed home from school. Helen came home wanting to do her math packet and I had to break it to her that she lives in a house that doesn't do summer math packets, even with the shiny prize of a sticker in your sticker book on the line. I told her I'd give her an at-home sticker though, which seemed acceptable.

Cheers, all. Hopefully the bug is gone from Connor and he can enjoy today.

There goes my heart again.

Elaine

Summer Is Over?!?

Wow. After two weeks without the children, followed by two weeks of vacationing first in the Adirondacks with Ed's family and then in Montreal and Vermont with just the four of us, it seems as if summer has officially found its end. As I type this, Helen and Connor are sleeping, with first day of school clothes laid out, and Ed and I figuring out who's going to perform drop-off duty and who will take on pick-up.

I don't cherish the end of summer. I like the time Connor and Helen have at home. I like the looseness of most days, and even on days when nothing seems to get accomplished, I like the idea that at least we probably weren't rushed in the morning, grabbing sips of coffee on the way out the door and crossing fingers that nothing requiring a return trip to school would be forgotten.

Connor will be entering fifth grade - the oldest grade at our elementary school. He's in a classroom with many students who have never been in his class, the byproduct of having four sections of his grade.

Helen feels like she's flying a bit solo, but she's absolutely ready to dive in. She has the same teacher Connor had for second grade, and that is a huge relief for me. I am certain Helen will love her.

I have my own first-day jitters. I'm starting a book club for students in Helen's and Connor's classes. If I don't get enough takers in their classes, I'll expand to other classes in the grade. But since I'm hoping for a group of about eight, I suspect it won't be too difficult to fill.

This is the moment in the school year, when the world seems full of possibilities. Pencils are sharpened, backpacks are clean, nobody has asked a child to do any meaningless homework. The hope of getting the perfect teacher fills the house, and somehow I am able to believe that THIS will be the year that everything will just work out.

Fingers crossed. Let's do this!

Elaine

When All Hope Dies

When a friend is dying, it's very hard to be realistic. Because every part of your self wants to believe that things will get better, that a cure will be found at the 11th hour, that even though nobody else has ever survived what your friend has been stricken with, you somehow believe that your friend will be different. He will be the one that wakes up one day, and for no explainable reason, is able to walk, talk, and breathe independently once more.




But then there comes a point, when prayers and hopes for healing just end. It feels wrong to even silently wish for anything except peace. And so thoughts fade from ones of healing to grace, and instead of turning over in your mind the possibility that this nightmare will end, it seems more appropriate to just think about your friend's children and hope that the trauma is as small as it can be. But then, I look at my own two children and wonder - how in the hell can the loss of a parent be anything except extremely traumatic?




And his wife? Who I have known practically my entire life? She will be left to not only parent these two grief-stricken children, but she will have her own mounds of grief to deal with. Her current nightmare will end and another one will begin.




He will never roll his eyes at her again. He will never burst out laughing at her implausible tales. He will never share her joy thinking about the two children they created.




On Thursday, my friend will take in his last breath. His pain will finally end. So much of him will remain in this dimension, and those who knew him will honor that spirit in our actions and in choosing the company we keep.



Elaine

Digging out - piano!

Work, in a word, has been a disaster lately. I don't have enough time to complete the tasks I need to complete. Even when I focus on only completing important tasks (ignoring urgency) I'm overwhelmed.

In the evening, when I would normally catch up from work missed during the day, I've been booking flights for summer travel, crocheting edges on Helen's potholders, and trying to finish a sweater for Connor that is absolutely doomed - having ripped the thing apart FOUR times now!

And in the midst of it all, I was slammed with the end of school - who I need to get money to for a well-deserved gift for a teacher or coach, where do I need to be when for Field Day, end-of-the year picnics (TWO!), the start of piano lessons for Connor, the opening of dive season, managing two cars for three adults and trying not to forget anything too important.

Good problems, to be sure, but I'm drowning.

As is typical, the first thing to go is my blog. And so it is, that I have missed recording so many things these past few weeks.

Probably the most important thing I've completely punted on is that Connor started taking piano lessons. I'm in favor of these for a few reasons. First, I played piano from grade 2 - high school, and I have a lot of fond memories sitting at that keyboard. I want Connor to have a chance at developing similar memories. Second, although Connor can write fairly neatly, he usually doesn't. At the beginning of first grade, his teacher at the time realized what a funky grip he had on a pencil, and I totally blew it off as a product of never holding a pencil. At the time, she offered to get him some Occupational Therapy and I very confidently told her Connor didn't need that. Well, I *might* have been wrong to refuse that offer of help. Because still, he struggles with writing and it is the only consistent criticism his second grade teacher has. I now think Connor has crappy fine motor skills. Enter, the piano! How can his fingers NOT get stronger and have more control if he learns to play piano? Cross your fingers for me. Third, Connor is quite possibly tone death. To be fair, he comes by it honestly. Very early on in our dating days, Ed was humming a song and although he had the words perfect (something I often tangle up), the melody was nothing like the actual melody. Connor seems to have inherited Ed's ear, and I'm hoping that piano playing can sort this out a bit.

Connor loves piano for two reasons. First, he gets to sit with a teacher who tells him how awesome he is for 30 minutes each week, and Connor loves that. In fact, he confidently announced to me that Mr. C. said he hadn't ever had a better student and he was awesome. His face sort of fell when I told him he actually wasn't that awesome. He salvaged his ego by deciding that - for the amount of time he's been playing piano, he's awesome. That's not something I can judge, so I didn't. Second, he gets a treat at the end of the lesson.

Connor gets frustrated with piano, which I think is good for him. When he screws up a song, his first instinct is to close the book and announce "I'm done". At which time, I open the book and calmly say "not true, Connor, we're going to work through this". And so it is that measure by measure we've worked through a few songs and by the end, Connor feels a real pride at figuring something out. I enjoy this time with him.

Here's a clip of Connor's first time at the keyboard. He's gotten better since then, but he's still no Mozart. He does, however, recognize that a half note gets twice the amount of time as a quarter note.

He's looking forward to impressing Aunt Linda when we visit Kansas this year!

Elaine

Last Week of Second Grade

We’re slogging to the finish now – just one week left in second grade. I think there’s a special activity every day – and while I appreciate the joy this brings to the schoolhouse, I can’t help but feel we’re pretty much at the “glorified babysitting” portion of the year. Although, just to make it real, I understand there will be a test at some point this week. There will not, however, be homework* (thank you, universe).

There will be a picnic (today), two “early release” days – wherein the kids will leave school 2.5 hours early, Smartapalooza (think of it as field day for art), and who knows what else. Because I’m trying to seal the deal as flakiest mom of the year, I’ll also be begging the teacher if I can bring in birthday cupcakes to celebrate Connor’s summer birthday. I simply forgot to do it earlier. I had hoped I had done it when Connor had his 7^th birthday party, a month late back in September, but I was pretty certain I hadn’t. And Connor confirmed that indeed, he never got his cupcakes. I brought cookies three or four times this year, including one time that was just a thank you for all of the kind cards Connor received from his classmates when he broke his arm. I’ve been informed that these cookies don’t count on the “did I get cupcakes for my birthday this year” scoreboard.

*For the record, homework is not really an issue in our house. My policy is to give Connor ten minutes and tell him to finish his homework or go to school with it undone. Except for a couple of weeks when the babysitter took to bargaining with Connor to do the work (*@!*), and a few nights of rejecting the drawing pictures of word study words, Connor buckled down and got the work done. For the most part, I considered it a waste of time (as do the majority of analysts on the topic), even if it was only a few minutes each night. Starting about the third week of school, I told him he didn’t need to do anything that couldn’t be verified by the teacher the next day, so out went sorting and reading his words on Monday. And after Connor brought another perfect word study test home last month (I believe he missed three words all year – “announce” being the latest), I told Connor he should just give it a rest on the homework. But he wanted that sticker, so persevere he did. Never mind that there’s a whole box of stickers in the craft room he can get without doing anything other than reaching his hand in the box to retrieve one!

But alas, we’re solidly staring the end of the year in the eye, and no matter what happens this week, at 1:25 on Friday, Connor will be DONE with second grade!

 

Elaine

Facing 40: We Run This Town

I want my kids to know they can push their bodies into doing almost anything they want. I want them to know that they don't have to be first, but it's a wonderful thing to finish. I realized, recently, that one of the rewarding things about running at my pace, is that since everyone running near me knows we are not going to win, there really is a feeling of everyone encouraging everyone else to keep going and finish.

I'll probably never be as fast as Ed. I used to run so slowly that it was actually painful for him to run with me, although he would occasionally try. For our 8K back in March, he ran with me most of the way, possibly because he knew it meant a lot to me to run sub-10 minute miles (which I did!), and keeping up with him was part of my race plan. However, as Ed was running with me, he was chatting away, clearly at leisure. I was grunting "yes" huff, puff, "no", huff, puff until finally Ed realized that I just can't talk when I'm running. It takes everything I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Connor's elementary school held a 5K and 1 mile fun run last weekend. I signed the whole family up. A mile is a long way for both Helen and Connor, but they had 30 minutes to complete it, and with enough walking, I was confident they'd finish. And they did!

Connor ran somewhere around an 11 minute mile - which is to say - he ran at about an 8 minute mile pace, walked, and then dashed off again. He was fast when he was running. I started off with him and he left me in the dust. Thankfully, he started walking not too far into the race so I could catch up with him. Helen trotted along with Ed and it was pure glee when she caught up to Connor and me. At that point, Ed took off with Connor and I ran / walked the rest of the way with Helen.

Helen ran / walked for 13:15. And she came in strong. As I ran with her across the finish line, I showed her how to pump her fists in the air and cheer for herself. You Go Girl!

The great thing about running at an elementary school is that there are a lot of parents cheering on all of the kids. It's a great environment for a first run.

Connor liked the donuts after the race.

After completing the mile, Ed and I went on to run the 5K. He left me in the dust pretty quickly. He ran sub-8 minute miles. I'm not sure I'll ever get that fast - although I'm now hoping to get to an 8 minute mile by next year.

I finished the race in 27:05, which is good for an 8:43 minute mile. This is, by far, the fastest I have ever run - and almost 40 seconds per minute faster than I ran in March.

Check out that heel-to-toe form I still have at the finish as well as the fancy new running shoes I treated myself to after I nearly injured myself at the March run, wearing shoes with literally no support left in them.

Next up? Run Amuck at Quantico. Ed and I both need to practice our push-ups and monkey bars before the race, since those are two of the obstacles in the course.

Elaine

Soccer - an Update

A few days ago, I was riffing on Connor's terrible soccer team and pronouncing my expertise at rooting for terrible teams. Well, apparently my snark is all the team needed. Last Saturday's score? 6 - 5 - with Connor's team in the lead. That 5 for the other team includes one goal scored by Connor's team. That 6 for Connor's team lacks a goal that Connor came within inches of making (DOH!). The other teams 5 also excludes a second goal that Connor's team almost scored on itself - on a breakaway, no less. At the last moment, a team member caught up to the runaway team member and kicked the ball to the side, avoiding the almost certain goal.

Here is what my untrained eye noticed.

1. It's easier to not have 15 goals scored against your team if you focus on kicking the ball to the side of the field when you're not on your goal side, rather than always playing in the center. The boys seem all over executing that lesson.

2. Even when your kid's team wins a very exciting game, soccer is still very boring to someone who grew up rooting for baseball. I suspect the inverse is true for people who grew up rooting for a soccer team, and now find themselves watching little league.

3. Popcorn is a great, nut-free, post-game snack. It was our turn to bring snack, and it was a huge hit.

4. If you leave the jug of lemonade you made for the game in the refrigerator, it is very difficult to serve at the end of the game. Luckily, I noticed the missing jug at halftime, and Ed saved the day by running to a nearby grocery store and snagging new lemonade. We now have A LOT of lemonade in our home. This pleases Connor.

5. Maybe, just maybe, having grandparents in town is what we need for all of Spring, since Connor's baseball and soccer team won. Coincidence? I don't think so. Clearly, my parents are the lucky talon.

Action shot!

I have no idea what's going on, either.

So...same time next week, Mom and Dad?

Elaine

Sports

The sports teams I have rooted intensely for include the Kansas State University Wildcats, the Kansas City Chiefs, the Kansas City Royals, and the Washington Nationals. I tell you about those first three so you can truly know that I know losing in sports. I have lived 0-for-Autumn, an uncanny number of first round play-off losses, and "mathematically eliminated" from the play-offs...in August. I understand when someone talks about "next year's high draft spot" they are displaying a fierce sense of optimism - which inevitably follows a coach's tears on the news.

Because I have rooted for these teams, I also know how sweet a turnaround can be. When my beloved Wildcats finally beat those Cornhuskers, I didn't stop smiling for a week. I have been known to tell people, as they mock me for my hometown teams, that the joy of the turnaround makes it all worthwhile. I'm not actually sure I believe it, but there is a certain amount of glory when your (horrible) team is over-performing and everyone who sees you makes note of it. They want to share just a teeny bit of your excitement.

Last Fall, Connor played soccer for the first time. Judging by the score and the extra man that nearly always got to play, Connor's team was awful. They might have scored fewer than 5 goals the whole season. It was almost a blessing when Connor broke his arm and we no longer had to sit on the sidelines. I was having fun messing around with my camera, but I could see it was starting to get to Connor.

I know losing, and this losing was bad.

Spring season, the boys picked up right where they left off. Only now, rather than mostly taking it in stride, they seem to be a little upset about the situation. One parent complimented her son and he retorted "how can even say good-job when we lost 15 - 0"? I was never more thankful for my own non-complimenting policy / very specific complimenting policy. I could very sincerely say to Connor "I noticed when you stuck with the ball and kept trying to push it toward the goal!".

Parents, now, were also starting to get annoyed that the talent wasn't leveled a little better. The coach of the other team from Connor's school actually came up to me and started apologizing about the game, but I just smiled and said "Connor gets over these things pretty quickly. These things just happen." That is because I have a strict policy of not criticizing volunteer coaches. I have no idea what it takes to coach a soccer team. I'm going to do my best to not make it more difficult. Also, it's not this guy's fault Connor's team stinks, and he's always SUPER NICE to Connor at practice, as is Connor's own coach.

But last Saturday, Connor missed the game due to two conflicts. I emailed a friend with a son on the team and she emailed back that she thought they won, though she wasn't certain! It must have at least been close enough that the boys' were in it, and must have scored several times.

At first, I was really excited for our team, hoping that it portended great things in the future. Connor would love for his team to win - or even score! But then I immediately thought - oh man, that team must be worse than our team. Poor kids. That must be awful. And I realized I was wishing the other team would've won.

I guess some of us are just supposed to root for losers. But did you hear the Royals were in first place?

Elaine

Testing and Context

A lot of attention has been paid to race and standardized tests - including the SAT and ACT. Probably my favorite book touching on the subject is A Hope in the Unseen: An American Odyssey from the Inner City to the Ivy League. At issue is that some students - typically those who are neither white nor Asian, systemically perform worse not because they are less intelligent or less able to learn, but because the tests are so loaded with cultural context that students of other races lack the context to answer some of the questions. Because my own children are white and attend school in an affluent school district, I accept that they are advantaged on tests, which is not to say this is right or good. However, even my over-privileged children will find themselves guessing at times.

Last week, Connor's robust vocabulary included the word "thickens". These words are words given to all students, intending to stretch their vocabulary. The children do not have to learn to spell the words, but they need to be able to fill-in-the-blank to demonstrate understanding of the word.

After several weeks of perfect scores, Connor finally got stumped. The sentence?

[BLANK] thickens when cooked.

• oatmeal
• water
• bacon

Connor eliminated water right away, knowing that you don't cook water and if you did, it would simply boil, not become thicker.

He's both a picky eater and a vegetarian - so doesn't eat either oatmeal or bacon.

He took a stab with bacon (a food he has literally never seen), and was incorrect.

Context. It matters more than you might think. And no, I did not appeal the issue to the teacher.

Elaine

The Lessons

It's not the lesson we hoped Connor would be learning in second grade, but it's an important lesson all the same. Stay by your partner's side; Let people know you love them; Live a life of compassion; and All living things will one day, die.

This afternoon, parents of students in Connor's class received news that the primary teacher's husband had died. The email noted that news was spreading fast and advised parents to take the opportunity to talk to their children in the evening, so they weren't surprised at school the next day. I was going up to school in a few minutes to pick Connor up anyway, and everyone in the office (faculty, staff, parents) were grief-stricken.

So sad.

For the school auction, the children all wrote essays about what their life would be like in 20 years. I volunteered to scan the essays, and because I have a very slow scanner, I was able to read through all of them during my task. The teacher contributed an essay and the whole thing is about travel she hopes to be doing with her husband. When I first read it, I was nervous - knowing that her husband was ill, but now my heart just breaks in two.

Life is so precious.

Tonight, after we came home from the baseball game and a visit to a new yogurt store, got jammies on and whizzed through homework, Ed held Connor as I told him the news. Connor sobbed. And we took a moment to talk about what a wonderful thing his teacher had done, being by her husband for so much time, even though she missed her class dearly. We talked about how we can send a note to the teacher and if we don't know what to say, we can just write "I love you". We even talked about how even though we did not know her husband, we are still sad for her, because we love her so much. We briefly covered the ground that people sometimes die after being sick for a long time, hoping to avoid anxiety over the next minor illness that Ed or I happen to contract.

May today's rains bring tomorrow's beautiful flowers,
Elaine

Updated April 5:
P.S. This morning, Connor wrote his teacher an "I Love You Mrs. [name]" in a rainbow of colors. On the back, he drew these flowers.

Numbers...and Possibilities

Connor and I were eating lunch last weekend and we started talking about numbers. Connor particularly loves very large numbers, though I wouldn't say he knows much about them. We started talking about careers one might pursue if they wanted to work with very large numbers - including physics and astronomy.

That led to a discussion about trying to find life in other parts of the universe. Connor thought it might be fun to do an experiment trying to figure out if life existed elsewhere. One way to do that experiment, he reasoned, would be to develop a spaceship that would search for life. Then he noted that he might be the person that designed the experiment, but that he'd probably never get to see the outcome of the experiment, because by the time the spaceship got far enough away to find other life forms, he would have die of old age.

Admittedly, I was briefly blown away by the knowledge that:

(1) Connor recognizes he will someday die.
(2) Connor imagines the possibility of the universe being so big that he could travel as fast as possible and still not get to where he's going in a lifetime.

Not bad for a 7 year old.

Elaine

King Penguins

Connor's class wraps up a unit on animals soon. Each child was tasked with picking an animal and writing a one page report about the animal. Accompanying their report is a diorama showing the habitat of the animal.

Connor chose King Penguins. This turned out to be an excellent choice for several reasons.

(1) I love penguins, instantly making this Connor's coolest homework assignment to date.
(2) King Penguins live in Antarctica. How hard could it be to recreate Antarctica?
(3) I have a book on how to needle felt animals, and a penguin in on the front cover. Score!

This might be the first project that has actually interested Connor. He was inspired to write three pages of text - which is unusual for him. Connor is very much a "meet the minimum" kind of guy, especially when it comes to writing assignments. He also couldn't wait to start on the project, and kept reminding me that he wanted to work on it.

He acquired a shoebox from his never worn soccer shoes. This pristine pair of shoes arrived the day after Connor broke his arm, and now his feet have grown. Hopefully Helen will wear them, and if not some child on a soccer team will score a brand new pair of shoes from me.

He set about painting the box so that it was covered in snow. He added a little mating and hunting ground and voila - King Penguin habitat! He also did most of the work on needle felting and wet felting a penguin - and he didn't even stab me during the process, which is a huge win for my fingers. I tidied the bird up a bit as we went along. Finally, he added some plastic ice cubes from an Angry Birds eraser set.

He can't wait to show off his report to everyone - which includes a color illustration on the front cover!

Elaine

Teaching the Right Lessons

Connor's teacher's husband is very ill. He cannot be left unattended. Two weeks ago, he was in the hospital and the teacher was absent in the afternoons. Last week, the teacher was absent all week. This week, the teacher continues to be absent and will be so at least through the end of the week. After that, it's unclear what will happen, though more doctor's appointments mean that a clearer picture will likely develop.

Notably, she has sent in lesson plans every day for the substitute, and the substitutes are supported by a student teacher who has been in the classroom and knows the students. Connor's teacher may have physically left the building, but she's still working for her students.

I have mixed reactions to this. As a human, I am deeply sorry that my son's teacher is going through this awful time. I can't imagine how stressful it must be.

As a parent, I was initially upset that my son seems to be losing a second teacher this year. He's already lost one teacher, and the thought of losing another just seems like it's too much for one seven-year-old to bear. Also, his classroom teacher does a LOT of extra work for Connor, trying to find material that keeps him interested in what's going on. Most recently, she recruited the librarian to help with a special project. Without his teacher there, I'm sure he's getting lost quite a bit of the time - and this is a little depressing to me.

But then I got to thinking. What's the lesson in all of this?

It's simple, really.

The lesson is that when you partner is in great need, you drop as much as you can and you attend to that need. I would walk out of my office in a New York City minute and never look back if I was in the same situation. And just because you happen to be a teacher, doesn't mean you shouldn't do the same thing.

Years from now, I have no doubt that Connor will sail through the various academic challenges that come his way - whether he's excited about school in second grade or not. But more importantly, he might be faced with an awful choice as he watches a partner, friend, or child in need. And maybe in the back of the mind he'll remember a lesson he's learning right now - choose the thing that's most important to you every day - and do that thing.

Elaine

The Wind and the Stars

 

Last year, my friend and fellow blogger, Susan Niebur died from Inflammatory Breast Cancer. Just like many  others, I donated money to a charity Susan liked - the Inflammatory Breast Cancer Research Foundation. I miss her, still. Every time I look into the night sky, I think of her. She might be the only astrophysicist I ever knew. We still need more research on this disease.

 

A few weeks ago, Connor's gifted services teacher, Ms. Raimondo, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She has promised me that though she's no longer in the classroom with Connor, she'll always be looking after him from above. I really appreciate that. She's the wind we feel always. In her honor, please consider donating to the American Cancer Society, or any other cancer research charity.

 

I'm praying that Ms. Raimondo is surrounded by all the love and positive energy that she has shared with so many. She really tapped into Connor's love of learning. She started a fire that I know will never be put out. I think of her daily when I see Connor make some sort of interesting connection. Her beautiful words are below, alongside a photo of Susan. Her words have been a source of great comfort to me since she first shared them. It's a poem she wrote several years ago for a niece with ALS. It was written exactly one year before Ed and I got married.

 

 

Much love to all,
Elaine

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Sad Day

This afternoon, everyone in Connor's school received a note that Mrs. R. - Connor's beloved gifted teacher - would not be returning to school. She has pancreatic cancer. I read the email and then my heart just broke in two. Literally. I can feel a hole right in the middle of it. It's a hole that holds anxiety about public school, worries about Connor's future, and the part of me that wondered would he always have a teacher who loved him. Mrs. R. filled all those holes so nicely. She kept all those worries to a minimum.

Mrs. R. loves Connor, and he loves her right back. I had always thought that the singular best thing about his being in the gifted program was that he'd have a consistent teacher for all five years of elementary school. He meets with her a couple of times a week, and more than once she has remarked to me that she can't wait to see how far he will go. Her eyes dance when she talks about him. She believes in him - and in my book - that belief goes a long way towards ensuring he'll have a successful elementary school experience.

Every time I have seen the two of them encounter each other at an after-school activity or in the hallway, she smiles and Connor is happy to see her. I just know she made Connor comfortable in school. Connor really grooves on seeing Mrs. R. with only 1 - 3 other students. It's a nice small group, it's not noisy or chaotic like his regular class can be, and she teaches him things that occasionally blow his mind away. Most recently, he came home with a set of problems about Jane sitting next to Judy and across from Jill and when Ed and I looked at them, we had flashbacks to our days of taking ACTs, SATs, and GREs. Connor loves figuring stuff like that out.

Mrs. R. is an artist and a totally free-form thinker. Just like every other gifted teacher I've ever known, her thoughts don't come to her in a linear pattern. She is a hoot to chat with, because she always has interesting ideas. I know Connor benefited from her tutelage greatly, even if their relationship was brief.

At Christmas, I was up at school volunteering in Connor's classroom and I ducked out of the room to see Mrs. R. I'm so glad we were able to chat that day. I hope we get the chance to do so again.

Elaine

Lockdown - Lockout

Recently, parents at my son's elementary school were informed of a new safety protocol. All classroom doors are to remain locked at all times. The theory behind this measure is that if a teacher doesn't have to fumble to lock a door, precious moments might be saved, should something like the recent Sandy Hook shootings be repeated at my son's school.

When the policy was announced, my first thought was that it does not make children any safer. (I kvetch about that and other safety measures over at www.TheDCMoms.com today.) My second thought about the measure was wondering whether children would actually be less safe. I'm concerned about the straggling kid who unintentionally gets locked out of the classroom, rather than locked in.

I fear this, because I am / was that straggling kid. In the documentary "March of the Penguins", there is a scene where one penguin gets left behind because of its seemingly poor sense of direction and relative slowness. Ultimately, this penguin marches to her death. When we saw this scene together, Ed looked at me and said "that's you". And I agreed. Directionless and late - only because I'm not a penguin, these traits don't generally put my life at risk.

The issue of locking doors was discussed at the PTA meeting (and at least one other woman felt like me - that the straggler was who we needed to worry about, not the bulk of kids already tucked away in a room). But in the end, the principal - whose opinion I trust - thought the current measures were the best measures. So doors remain locked.

Last Thursday, the first "post-lock-your-door-at-all-times" lockdown occurred. There was an armed robbery on a bike trail about a half mile from the school.

And guess whose kid was in the bathroom, and didn't make it into his classroom?

Yep. Mine.

Parents received a note that the lockdown occurred right after recess. Several children were finishing up in the bathroom when the lockdown was announced - "code [some color that I don't know]". So rather than going to their classroom, the art teacher nearby the bathroom shuffled them into her room, and they spent some time in what seemed like a closet / or some sort of passageway.

And though the whole event was deemed a success - "school procedures worked!", I sat at my desk thinking  - this is not the way our children should be spending their day. And more than that, I crossed my fingers that my child was not one of the ones left behind because that? That seems like a great way to make a kid feel unsafe. And that is not how I want my kid to feel at school.

Elaine

Walking Home

On the days I work from home, unless I'm in the middle of a conference call, I pick Connor up from school. Helen has liked this lately, because apparently the walk is just. too. long. I should make her walk with me, but I've been having so much fun with Connor, that I can't bring myself to do it. Also, if I'm running behind it's easier to run the few blocks without either carrying Helen or pushing the enormous double stroller I have that I should get rid of, but keep holding onto because I just don't want to hear Connor whine about not getting to ride when Helen does get to ride. I might be softer than anyone knows. Also, I love picking Connor up because since I surprised the class with cookies about a week ago, I've become a legend. Today, a girl that I don't know in the class called out "Connor's mom?" (which is my name at school), so I asked her how she was doing. She replied "you make the best cookies". I told her Connor and I had been talking about bringing them to school again on Friday because the class was going to have "Drop Everything and Read" time. I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull it off or not.

On today's walk home, I don't think Connor ever walked a step. He's decided that skipping is faster, and pretty much since he got his sling off last Tuesday, he's been skipping. It's a loud, high-bouncing, off-kilter skip that makes me smile every time. Until he crashes. That will make my heart stop for the third time since he broke his arm.*

He told me today was a great day because in P.E., they got to play a game of tag where the participants could either skip or gallop. He chose to skip, because it's faster than galloping. Then, he told me that his regular classroom teacher became "furious". I was expecting to get some juicy story about a teacher's head exploding, and even though it would be perfectly reasonable for her head to explode, I still thought the story would be good. So I casually asked "what happens when Mrs. M. becomes furious?". And Connor replied "well, she goes to the front of the room, puts her foot down on the ground and tells us she's furious". Talk about disappointment. I asked if it reminded him of me and he said "I don't think you've ever really gotten furious". He also told me that when his teacher is furious, she moves everyone's clips, which he then amended to say "everyone who wasn't following the rules", which he assured me was not him. His clip was not moved.

The gossip wasn't as good as I expected, but it was still a good walk home. By the end of the walk, he was making plans to play bunny store, which is the activity du jour in our backyard these days. Apparently now is a good time to play because brown leaves are the money, and we have a lot of brown leaves.

Elaine

*Prior to Connor's broken arm, I rarely worried about falls. Since he has fallen, my heart stopped when he fell the Monday following surgery, and ultimately knocked the pins out of place, though not so out of place that they had to be replaced. It stopped a second time last Friday when we were at a Planetarium in Schenectady, NY and Ed was holding Connor's left hand. Connor stumbled and started to fall. Ed yanked on Connor's left arm to break the fall. Luckily, he did not re-injure the arm. I already know it will stop a third time the next time Connor falls. I'm steeling myself for it in advance.

Foundations

Most of the time, I'm perfectly happy to send Connor off to school each morning. There are obvious benefits to the free, public education provided at our neighborhood school. And what a difference a year can make. He's made friends easily this year, he understands the rhythms of the day. His classroom teacher understands and so clearly cares about him. She put him in his own word study group, and he loves that. He sees his gifted teacher twice each week now, and she absolutely loves him. She'll be with Connor through the fifth grade, which provides a nice bit of consistency for him. Prior to his broken arm, Connor was really having a fun time with the boys on his soccer team. He really seemed to have figured the school and complementary activities out. Dare I say, the year was almost easy?

But I confess to a few moments that still make my heart do a little lurch. Most of these have to do with the art curriculum, but I'm taking the ostrich approach to that. I also felt a little sad when Connor broke his arm because typically at recess, he runs around with several other boys playing soccer, or plays chase with another set of friends. Neither of those activities are good for broken arms. I imagined a kid sort of drifting around the playground, waiting for the bell to let him leave his misery. Since I think recess is quite possibly the most important thing Connor does each day, the thought of him not enjoying it hurt my heart.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when I went to volunteer in Connor's class last week at the Halloween party. I arrived early enough to see him at recess, and was prepared to bring him inside with me so he wouldn't have to see all those kids running around and having fun without him. He had told me before that he wasn't really doing much at recess, although he sometimes "hung out with the girls". When I arrived, leaving early was not what he had in mind. Instead, he showed me this:

As it turns out, he and a few friends have been building "birdhouses" on the school playground. A mom of one of the girls happened to be volunteering with me and while we set up for the party as recess continued, she mentioned that some of the girls have really enjoyed Connor's arm being broken, because it means they get to play with him at recess. That warmed my heart.

That ended up being one of those days that I was pretty happy to send Connor to our neighborhood school. Today was another one of those days. When I walked Connor home from school, he was so excited to tell me that his teacher had given him a new book, just because she thought it was too hard for the rest of the class and that he would enjoy it. Enjoy it he did - reading the whole thing before bed tonight. Thank you, universe, for placing these kind children and educators in our path.

Elaine