My mom days are exhilarating, exhausting and infuriating. Sometimes, all in the space of 5 or 10 minutes! Today so far has been a good day. I took Noah to school for early morning swimming. Coach Hugo was as welcoming to me and Noah this week as he was to Len and Noah last week. It's good for Noah. He swam some laps, but then spent some time jumping off the side of the pool into the deep end. And I remember when, not so long ago, going underwater was not an option for Noah. Change can be such a beautiful thing...
And Ariel was off to school for a student government meeting. The 10,000th child to receive help from Gift of Life was coming to speak with the government reps. And to top it off, it's Halloween. So my proud, politically engaged daughter put on her Chelsea soccer jersey and went off to school. She was too late to impress Sam with her jersey, but it's sweet that she even wanted to.
And yesterday, when I went to the book fair to buy the book Ariel wanted but didn't have enough money for, I managed to chat with a bunch of folks, all of whom had upbeat things to say. How great for me to hear, and how much better for Ariel.
That reminds me that as I was leaving the middle school this morning, I caught up with Mrs. L, the special ed. teacher in science. She didn't know that we'll be moving Noah next week to a self-contained science class. "I'll miss him," she said. And if I didn't know better, I'd swear I saw tears in her eyes. What can be said about a child like Noah who can't really learn the material, no matter how much Mrs. L modifies it, has only been in her life for about six weeks, and yet has made such an impression?
As for Sam, he awoke from his intense, post-school nap yesterday to mumble at me, "I made All-County." "Good for you Sam," I said. And I think for the first time, he appreciates this kind of recognition, though it's not the first time he's received it.
Who knows what the weekend will bring, but it's a gift to have these good moments. I can't forget that this is the same week in which I told Ariel I wanted to kill her, and that other parents beat their children for less. I'm human. I lose it. She knows it. That's why she's the same child who can go off to school in the morning claiming to be an unhappy child with a terrible life, and sing herself to sleep at night. Yo-Yo indeed...
Friday, October 31, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
How Low Can We Go
Is there a bottom to Noah's lack of comprehension? I think there must be, but we always seem to find some lower point. I've sat with him the past two nights as he/we did his homework. One part has been English, specifically, answering questions related to the Winn-Dixie book. I've known this child all my life. I know how disabled he is. And yet something about his utter lack of understanding of anything I read to him shocked me. I don't know why. It shouldn't have, I suppose. But maybe we've gotten so many glowing reports about Noah and how much everyone who works with him loves him, and how well he's done adapting to this or that, that I've forgotten how little he can really do in some respects.
Do I care that Noah doesn't understand this story I've been reading to him? No, not really. But I do want him to understand more and more, to make his adapting to the world as he gets older more likely. And he has made enormous strides; they just tend to have nothing to do with the average academic day.
I get sad about Noah. I feel heartbroken at times. I worry about his future every moment of every day, or so it feels to me. I know the school stuff matters little to him, and that he has in common with his siblings. But I wonder what can replace Winn-Dixie, and make his student day job more productive, more engaging, more useful to and joyous for him.
Or maybe I just no longer want to feel bad about doing homework.
Do I care that Noah doesn't understand this story I've been reading to him? No, not really. But I do want him to understand more and more, to make his adapting to the world as he gets older more likely. And he has made enormous strides; they just tend to have nothing to do with the average academic day.
I get sad about Noah. I feel heartbroken at times. I worry about his future every moment of every day, or so it feels to me. I know the school stuff matters little to him, and that he has in common with his siblings. But I wonder what can replace Winn-Dixie, and make his student day job more productive, more engaging, more useful to and joyous for him.
Or maybe I just no longer want to feel bad about doing homework.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Of Math Homework and Madness
I'm really, truly, unabashedly starting to HATE modern parenting. I separate this quite emphatically from how I feel about my kids, whom I adore. What I despise are the incessant demands placed on parents by schools. Idiotic, pointless, test-prep homework. Endless flyers--among which, irony of ironies--are many promoting the virtues of going green. Requests for donations of money, school supplies, time. Reminders to collect for UNICEF during Halloween. Your child's in this special intervention program, sign here. Tell us what you think your autistic child should be when he grows up. Fill in this form. Will he go to college? How about a sheltered workshop? How should I know!??!?!!? He's twelve years old!!! Shouldn't you geniuses who claim to be responsible for educating him be helping us to figure that out. He wants to be a pilot. How about I put that on the form? Then you get him in to flight school.
There's just all this busy work. Forms, flyers, requests, demands. And what difference does it all make? Our education system is so flawed. Even here in the affluent environs of Long Island. Sure, there are kids who get awards, but so what in the end. Trophies and certificates are great at gathering dust, just like some of our dreams.
So what difference does all this make to my kids? They go to school. They do their worksheets. But what they really want is parents who love them, a chance to romp in the grass, commune with nature, listen to and play music, make art, design new worlds, reads some imagination-sparking books once in a while, and snuggle with mom before bed. If I stopped sending them to school tomorrow, would it make much of a difference to who they are as people, to how wise they become? I know the answer is "no." I know that because my father's formal education ended in the equivalent of middle school, with the outbreak of World War II. He didn't finish school, but he'll always be the wisest man I've ever known. He never took an ELA. He didn't take AP classes. He didn't take the SAT. He missed out on the chance to spend half of fifth grade prepping for a single social studies test. Poor Papa. He got his wisdom the old-fashioned way. He lived in the world and learned from it. He spoke five languages. My children speak one, as do I. Far as I can tell, the schools count beans and test scores well, but do they count what matters? Do they even know what that is?
I often think I'm not much of a parent. I chafe at the routine of it. I don't care about what the schools care about. I've never liked dotting i's and crossing t's. I care about excellence, but not about excellent forms. I care about high standards, but not about test scores. One of my children is bored but will get through fine. The other is disabled, and running interference for him seems to be my life's work. My youngest is a square peg, if ever there was one, trying to fit into a round hole. School will kill her, if it doesn't kill me first. She will butt heads with almost everything about it. She will despise the restrictions, the boredom, the tedium, and her teachers will return the favor about how they feel about her. She will ask "too many" questions. She won't accept or like the few answers she gets. Her grades will reflect that. But on the bright side, if the world implodes between now and then, none of that will matter. We will all be brought down by the hubris of some. We will revert to our savage state, killing each other for crumbs. Finally, something will trump the need to score a perfect 2400 on the SAT, at least here on the North Shore.
There's just all this busy work. Forms, flyers, requests, demands. And what difference does it all make? Our education system is so flawed. Even here in the affluent environs of Long Island. Sure, there are kids who get awards, but so what in the end. Trophies and certificates are great at gathering dust, just like some of our dreams.
So what difference does all this make to my kids? They go to school. They do their worksheets. But what they really want is parents who love them, a chance to romp in the grass, commune with nature, listen to and play music, make art, design new worlds, reads some imagination-sparking books once in a while, and snuggle with mom before bed. If I stopped sending them to school tomorrow, would it make much of a difference to who they are as people, to how wise they become? I know the answer is "no." I know that because my father's formal education ended in the equivalent of middle school, with the outbreak of World War II. He didn't finish school, but he'll always be the wisest man I've ever known. He never took an ELA. He didn't take AP classes. He didn't take the SAT. He missed out on the chance to spend half of fifth grade prepping for a single social studies test. Poor Papa. He got his wisdom the old-fashioned way. He lived in the world and learned from it. He spoke five languages. My children speak one, as do I. Far as I can tell, the schools count beans and test scores well, but do they count what matters? Do they even know what that is?
I often think I'm not much of a parent. I chafe at the routine of it. I don't care about what the schools care about. I've never liked dotting i's and crossing t's. I care about excellence, but not about excellent forms. I care about high standards, but not about test scores. One of my children is bored but will get through fine. The other is disabled, and running interference for him seems to be my life's work. My youngest is a square peg, if ever there was one, trying to fit into a round hole. School will kill her, if it doesn't kill me first. She will butt heads with almost everything about it. She will despise the restrictions, the boredom, the tedium, and her teachers will return the favor about how they feel about her. She will ask "too many" questions. She won't accept or like the few answers she gets. Her grades will reflect that. But on the bright side, if the world implodes between now and then, none of that will matter. We will all be brought down by the hubris of some. We will revert to our savage state, killing each other for crumbs. Finally, something will trump the need to score a perfect 2400 on the SAT, at least here on the North Shore.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Politics & Parenting
Perhaps I've got my priorities ass-backwards, but I spent a good part of this Sunday afternoon on the phone calling voters in Pa. To my near utter astonishment, I had a lengthy chat with a lovely woman who, admitting that on policy issues, she's 75% in Obama's corner, also admitted that in her gut, she essentially views him as a terrorist "sleeper cell." Holy shit! Amazing stuff. But I stayed calm (my brain had to have been spinning off my head, really, into outer space, but my voice didn't betray anything).
I sounded curious, understanding, concerned. As with others I'd spoken to in Pa., I pulled out everthing. Yes, I could understand her fears; my sister-in-law survived both attacks on the World Trade Center. But Barack only lived in Indonesia as a child, a choice that was made by his mother, not by him. And Indonesia has historically (if not in the last few years), been one of the most moderate Muslim countries on earth. And would it be fair to accuse you of being a Mafia princess if you spent some of your youth in Italy? And you have children, don't you? Well, don't you want to vote for their future, rather than succumb to the fear-mongering that has dominated our politics these last eight years and led to all kinds of abuses in the name of fighting terrorism? If you agree with Obama on policy, can't you make that the reason for pulling the lever? Can you see that a weakened and fearful America has given victory to the terrorists without their having to attack us here again? Don't you want to feel hopeful? When you go into the voting booth, you will be pulling the lever for your children, who aren't yet able to do it for themselves. I hope you'll vote for their future, that you'll vote for hopefulness and for the chance for America to be a great country again. And please do talk to your husband again. Since he thinks that everything that could've been "outed" about Obama already has been, listen to him. He sounds like a wise and insightful man. It would be awfully hard to be a secret terrorist with so many people looking at your every move for months and months. And he's surrounded by hundreds of people advising and working with him. It seems so unlikely that all those smart, dedicated people could be fooled by him. And remember, he spent a few years in Indonesia, but his formative and adult years here. I want you to feel good about the vote you cast; if you're concerned about health care and the economy, think about those things and try to set aside the fearful side that you say isn't even based on any specific example or incident. Cast an affirmative vote. Cast a vote for your children, for their future.
Shoot me now. She was lovely, but geez, how do people believe this shit? And then contemplate voting on it. And she wasn't even the person I was trying to reach. She was that person's sister. So I don't even get credit for the f...ing call!!! But maybe I screwed her head back on right and got her to listen to her husband, and to cast a vote in November for Obama. I'll just have to hope, since I'l never know.
But then there was an even longer call with a lovely older woman (65), who admitted to being undecided, but also had clear disdain for Bush and company. Her hesitation seemed to have a lot to do with Obama's "making it all sound too easy." I started by drawing her out, and heard about how she and her husband are middle class, and that each has at times held more than one job. They helped a daughter through college. That daughter was in ROTC and served in Desert Storm, and then went on to earn a PhD. A son essentially put himself through college.
I'm too tired to go through much of our conversation. Suffice it to say that at the end, she said to me, "you can feel good about this call." "So can I count on your vote for Obama?" "Yes, you can." Mission accomplished.
I'm so glad I've done this calling, but none of it makes me feel better about Obama's prospects, because I see how hard it is to convince people, and how much time it takes. The older woman, Anita Z., even thanked me for answering her questions and giving her so much information, because up til now, she'd had no one to ask and no way to get her answers. There have to be so many other people who feel as she does. There just isn't time left to reach them with this kind of detail. I just have to hope that folks can cut through the nonsense. But having a perfectly rational sounding woman essentially tell me that she considers Obama a one-man terror network makes me realize what an uphill climb this is, in spite of all the rosy polls. Where the rubber hits the road, there are some crazy ass skid marks.
I sounded curious, understanding, concerned. As with others I'd spoken to in Pa., I pulled out everthing. Yes, I could understand her fears; my sister-in-law survived both attacks on the World Trade Center. But Barack only lived in Indonesia as a child, a choice that was made by his mother, not by him. And Indonesia has historically (if not in the last few years), been one of the most moderate Muslim countries on earth. And would it be fair to accuse you of being a Mafia princess if you spent some of your youth in Italy? And you have children, don't you? Well, don't you want to vote for their future, rather than succumb to the fear-mongering that has dominated our politics these last eight years and led to all kinds of abuses in the name of fighting terrorism? If you agree with Obama on policy, can't you make that the reason for pulling the lever? Can you see that a weakened and fearful America has given victory to the terrorists without their having to attack us here again? Don't you want to feel hopeful? When you go into the voting booth, you will be pulling the lever for your children, who aren't yet able to do it for themselves. I hope you'll vote for their future, that you'll vote for hopefulness and for the chance for America to be a great country again. And please do talk to your husband again. Since he thinks that everything that could've been "outed" about Obama already has been, listen to him. He sounds like a wise and insightful man. It would be awfully hard to be a secret terrorist with so many people looking at your every move for months and months. And he's surrounded by hundreds of people advising and working with him. It seems so unlikely that all those smart, dedicated people could be fooled by him. And remember, he spent a few years in Indonesia, but his formative and adult years here. I want you to feel good about the vote you cast; if you're concerned about health care and the economy, think about those things and try to set aside the fearful side that you say isn't even based on any specific example or incident. Cast an affirmative vote. Cast a vote for your children, for their future.
Shoot me now. She was lovely, but geez, how do people believe this shit? And then contemplate voting on it. And she wasn't even the person I was trying to reach. She was that person's sister. So I don't even get credit for the f...ing call!!! But maybe I screwed her head back on right and got her to listen to her husband, and to cast a vote in November for Obama. I'll just have to hope, since I'l never know.
But then there was an even longer call with a lovely older woman (65), who admitted to being undecided, but also had clear disdain for Bush and company. Her hesitation seemed to have a lot to do with Obama's "making it all sound too easy." I started by drawing her out, and heard about how she and her husband are middle class, and that each has at times held more than one job. They helped a daughter through college. That daughter was in ROTC and served in Desert Storm, and then went on to earn a PhD. A son essentially put himself through college.
I'm too tired to go through much of our conversation. Suffice it to say that at the end, she said to me, "you can feel good about this call." "So can I count on your vote for Obama?" "Yes, you can." Mission accomplished.
I'm so glad I've done this calling, but none of it makes me feel better about Obama's prospects, because I see how hard it is to convince people, and how much time it takes. The older woman, Anita Z., even thanked me for answering her questions and giving her so much information, because up til now, she'd had no one to ask and no way to get her answers. There have to be so many other people who feel as she does. There just isn't time left to reach them with this kind of detail. I just have to hope that folks can cut through the nonsense. But having a perfectly rational sounding woman essentially tell me that she considers Obama a one-man terror network makes me realize what an uphill climb this is, in spite of all the rosy polls. Where the rubber hits the road, there are some crazy ass skid marks.
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