School -- Today We Tabled It... And Maybe Boxed It

Today was a day of tables. I had lunch with the children's piano teacher -- a brilliant musician, an attentive neighbor, an intelligent woman, a warm friend -- and we discussed how children learn and how people have this great capacity to create when they are inspired. Inspiration doesn't just mean rainbows and unicorns -- she spoke of interviewing Peter Goldmark in the 1970's -- an incredible inventor responsible for lp records ("Imagine," she said with sparkling eyes over her soup, "being able to listen to an entire symphony without having to change the record!"), as well as a million other things... If I have the story right, he shared during the interview of being in the war and contributing to the invasion of Normandy by helping light decoy boats so the Germans would think that the British were coming from a different direction. He was "inspired" to be creative. We give so much lip-service to "thinking outside the box" in our current generation, yet it seems to me that the generation that is often put-down as being myopic and not liberated was in fact better at not being pigeon-holed or "specialized" into tiny little... well... boxes. 

Last day of public school kids being free, so The Girl went to a play-date where the mom covered their dinner table with craft items and the girlies made a stage and a ton of critters and characters out of corks. The beginning of a play was written; there was a lot of giggling.

In the late afternoon we met up with some friends that are like city cousins, and they played like screeching wild animals in the gym of our church. Eventually we went out and hunted/gathered dinner and with the torn velvet curtains opened, and the lights dimmed we all sat around a folding table up on the stage. The stage was littered with scattered papers and extra furniture pieces and other random odds and ends that find their way onto rarely-used stages and while we might have looked like a crackpot tableau vivant we were comfortable being.

By 7pm the teenagers of our church began showing up. Originally we had an enormous activity planned (a cool murder mystery game), but with the current needs in the city we decided to change it last minute into a service project. It was surprisingly hard to find something that 12-17-year olds would be allowed to do. The thing we kept finding as we researched was that most everybody wants to help, they just don't know how. So yesterday we sent the word out to our congregation to start asking neighbors and friends for items needed for hygiene kits -- soap, toothbrushes, etc. -- and we would collect them, collate them into large Ziplock bags, and take them to a shelter in Hell's Kitchen that had posted a need for toiletries. 

While some people worried that we wouldn't be able to pull off something so last minute (that's the thing that sucks about emergencies... they're last minute...), other people just got to cracking and not only went shopping and/or raided their storage, but did creative things like the lady who sent an internal email out to her enormous apartment building -- she showed up at the church with an entire black garbage bag of items. People want to help. Our youth lined up along long tables and sorted the items into piles and bagged them. 

When I decided to do this blog I promised myself that I would be honest, and so here is a confession: I wish I had had my kids help more with the service project. So often I pigeon-hole my life: this is my life as a teacher; this is my life as a mom; this is my life as a youth-leader at church. I wish that today I had gone around with my kids to the neighbors asking if they wanted to donate hygiene items, or asked the kids if they wanted to use their saved money to go to the store and buy some toiletries. I wish tonight while they were waiting for The Dad to show up and take them home I would have incorporated them more in the activity. They did help sort the items, and at one point they helped open the Ziplocks and pass them down the assembly line, but as more teenagers started coming in and I was trying to figure out the chaos, my instinct was to shoo my kids towards some folding chairs and have them stay "out of the way."  My lesson learned today is to better meld my worlds -- stop thinking of things in specific boxes. Tables are about bounty and creativity and friendship, boxes not so much.  

Treasures

Those are vials of spiders at the American Museum of Natural History that two little boys thought were pretty cool. Public school kids are still out, so the children both spent the bulk of the day with friends. The Girl went with her friend and got to walk a dog (!!!), and see the circus, and I took Judd the Red Chicken and one of his friends to the Natural History Museum. We have been approximately three zillion times, and it never gets old. Ever. Like our friends that have often gone with us, and the memories we have of younger manifestations of the moppets wandering the halls, the place itself is a treasure. 

Before the play-dates got underway the kids finished up their Halloween books. We have a bin of Halloween books that come out with the decorations each year. I will refrain from expounding too heavily about how books hold memories in ways that e-books never can. Anyway, yesterday the kiddos wrote Halloween stories (hilarious), and today they finished copying them into little homemade books and adding illustrations. When we packed up the Halloween books/decorations tonight we included our two new additions. Treasures that will be appreciated more each year. 

Tonight when we were all back together, we celebrated El Dia de Los Muertos in our quiet, gringo way. I read two articles that I keep in a file and pull out every year.  I'm really happy that I just found this link -- it's pretty much the same article that I have by Victor Landa.  The second "article" is actually a chapter from Dr. Rachel Remen's book My Grandfather's Blessings.  Until five minutes ago when I tried to find a link I didn't know/remember that my wrinkled copied pages were from that book, so that title just came as a pleasant surprise. The chapter is called, "The Link" and it retells the story The Once and Future King, by T. H. White -- many will know this story because of Disney's version -- The Sword in the Stone. Dr. Remen summarizes how Merlin teaches Arthur by transforming him into many different animals so he can befriend them and learn their wisdom. Then she describes the moment when he finds the sword, and at first fails to pull it from the anvil... it is lovely: "Suddenly with a rustling of wings and a scampering of feet, with a slithering, squeaking, growling, cheeping, and baaing, the empty square fills with the spirits of all the creatures who have generously shared the wisdom of their own lives with Arthur, who have loved him... Long gone from his life, they are nonetheless with him, supporting and encouraging him... And strengthened by their love and all that he has learned from them, he reaches forward again..." 

After the readings I retold a sacred story about a cousin. Every year the children are older and ask more questions and posit more ideas. We then talked about my Grandpa, their great-grandfather who died a year and a half ago. I am listening to him crack himself up right now as I type this. About fifteen years ago I gave my grandparents some blank tapes and a list of stories that I had always heard, and wanted to always have. After my Grandpa died I found the tapes and went downtown on a rainy day to a little hole in the wall place that transfers tapes onto CDs. These CDs are treasures beyond words... or rather, treasures of words. The children have already heard them, but tonight we left their door open so they could fall asleep hearing his voice. 

As It Should Be

Happy Nevada Day. Both of my kids were born in Nevada -- The Girl being just a few months old when we moved across the country. Every October 31st, we go over the facts as I have come to know them: Battle Born is the motto having become a state during the Civil War -- 1864 -- in order to help Lincoln win the election one week later (turns out he didn't need the help after all... so Nevada was born out of necessity, but ultimately unnecessarily...). State mammal: Big Horn Sheep; state bird: Mountain Blue Jay (both displayed on the Nevada socks I proudly wear every year). I have yet to go into the nuclear testing, or the fact that it was known primarily as the divorce capital of this great nation. They do know that our piano was in The Mapes so it could have been played by a member of the Rat Pack. There really are cool, if often mob-related, parts to Nevada's history. 

This year I tried to get the kids to sing along to "Home Means Nevada" -- we looked at this clip of The Killers singing it, and this clearly more awesome clip. I also texted my friends for the lyrics to the song that we sang in elementary school -- one of my friends delivered ("My name is just Nevada I was born in '64, I have the cash to pay my way with a million tons of ore. I have the bluest mountaintops that ever you did see. My site is light, my record bright, I stand for liberty. Here's how you spell it: N-E-V-A-D-A..."). When the text came in with the lyrics we were out walking, and so all down Central Park West I was like: repeat after me... The kids were like: ehhhh. As it should be. Home probably doesn't mean Nevada to them. A part of their history, yes, but home not so much. The above picture was given to me by my friend that I've had since 3rd-grade -- it was painted by her brother -- and the canvas portion is painted the perfect, bright cornflower blue that is the color of the sky that I've only ever seen in Nevada. It's washed out by the filter that I sent it through on purpose. You have to experience it for yourself. 

Aside from our Nevada lesson, we did some math, writing, reading, piano and went to the New York Historical Society. It is a fabulous place. Apparently the school children of NYC will be out of school for the entire week (some of the moms have been like: I'm going crazy! I'm like: tell me about it!), so the society has thrown open its doors to the families of the city and today was pay-what-you-can, with proceeds going to Hurricane Sandy relief funds (I believe the rest of the week children are free). 

There is an exhibit running now about what NYC specifically did for the war effort during WWII. The thing that I found most interesting and tried to discuss with the moppets was how people used whatever their skills were to meet the needs of the war. Two far out examples: 1) The Arms and Armor department from the Met designed helmets and armor for the military by pulling from the knowledge that they had acquired by working with the different types of ancient armor. 

2) Maiden Form -- yes, the brassiere company -- created the special pouches (cups) used to carry the war pigeons... apparently a pigeon shape is similar... 

If there is one thing that my kids will hopefully believe after this year it's this: it is not expedient or natural that everybody should know and be experts in the exact same things... We all have different passions and inclinations and when we follow them and let them breathe the contributions that we will be able to make will be limitless. The resilience of our country is based on our diverse ways and understandings... Perhaps that is my biggest gripe about how standardized-test-oriented our schools are. Anyway.

The movie that is free with admission is definitely worth seeing, and the cute scavenger hunt that takes the kids throughout the entire museum (different from one that only focuses on the children's area) is worth doing.

Halloween was indeed subdued, as it should be. There are people just a few miles away suffering. We went with some friends and trick-or-treated throughout our building (taking the stairs and elevator... certainly not how we did it growing up in Nevada), and then we walked down to a street that is usually shut off and mobbed with people. There were crowds certainly, but again, nothing like it usually is. 

As my kids did their sorting (the best part of Halloween for sure) I was happy for them. Earlier I had considered showing them the picture I saw online of children trick-or-treating in an emergency shelter, but often it's a fine line between teaching compassion/gratitude and guilt/fear. The lesson I'd rather that they hold on to from today is the find-and-use-your talents one. We will each have our own experiences -- sometimes they will be brilliant blue Western skies -- and sometimes they will be Eastern hurricanes. We will be in the best position to help others during hard times if we've developed our talents and honed our skills, for then we will have something of substance to offer. Bless those who have something to offer right now. The best I could do tonight was let my kids enjoy their Halloween. 

Checking In

For me, the most alarming part of last night was waking up suddenly while being repeatedly kicked in my side. The kids asked if they could sleep with us since the windows were trembling, and so here we were in the wee hours and The Girl was like a hound dog snoozing on the hearth rhythmically kicking away while dreaming. 

We woke up this morning to sun coming through the blinds. We were fortunate. We have read about the damage and sadness that the storm brought to many. We have talked a lot about the professionals that have been using their knowledge and skills to minimize the impact. We have a straight view from our living room window of the crane that has been dangling precariously -- surely men and women have been working around the clock to figure out what to do with it... all of those resources, and when the big picture is looked at, that is just one small detail of the storm's touch. The kids heard The Dad talking, as he had to help make decisions for his work that would ensure the safety of employees... so many moments all working together, or parallel, or in tandem when something big happens. Though, I guess that's what life just kind of is everyday, but big events demonstrate it more clearly.  

The parks are all closed and we've been told that tree limbs could still come down anywhere that there are trees, so going outside should be done judiciously. We decided to go on a tiny walk just around Lincoln Center, so as to avoid us clawing each other's eyeballs out. Mostly what we discovered was that the leaves -- especially those that were gold or red or purple or orange -- were all blown off the trees. 

The kids know that the public school children are still not back in school (and won't be tomorrow), so there has been some resistance to "work." I tried to make it fun by having a spooky story writing contest, and working with summarizing skills via Halloween picture books... But everything was a tad flat. 

We started our "Militant Math" unit. I introduced the concept of brainwashing -- how often it's done with repetition... and that however wrong I might be, I still think that certain things just need to be memorized. To that end, they each got to make themselves an armband, and now when I ask them to put their armbands on we stand and recite some of our multiplication/division facts. Hopefully the satire will help them swallow the tedium pill. 

It doesn't really feel like Halloween is still in front of us. Whether it's because we had a couple of parties on Saturday and the costumes have already lost their shine, or because we actually had something truly frightening in our midst I'm not sure... but we will try to muster one more day of Halloween spirit. Today we put together our little cardboard haunted house -- it was an important lesson called: Why We Don't Throw Away Directions. 

One last note about our recent curriculum. While having our Brady Bunch marathon there was a scene when the always-strapping Mike Brady walked through the kids' rooms and made sure each sleeping child was properly tucked in. 

"Do you do that for us?" The Girl asked.

"Yes."

"Really?" Judd the Red Chicken returned.  

They looked at each other with stars in their eyes. 

How this could come as such a revelation, when many times we have little conversations because one or the other is still awake when I go in, is beyond me, but for some reason seeing it from the outside looked different to them. Tonight as they were getting ready for bed they again made references to being checked on. So much of the small, daily, services that we do as parents -- even if they seem so obvious -- are totally unnoticed. Blessed be the Brady's for bringing a small moment of attention to their attention, because, having now discovered it, they are thrilled. 

Thank you to those of you who checked in on us last night and today -- it hasn't gone unnoticed. 

Here's a Story of a Storm Named Sandy

Public school was cancelled today because of Sandy, so my kids opined that we, too, should have the opportunity to sit around and be bored... I wagged my finger and explained that they would just have to make it up in the summer... and then promptly sat down and began my long destructive path through our emergency food -- bags of Halloween candy. 

The email from the home school folks suggested talking about weather and atmosphere and pressure... etc... I went only so far as having them watch this cute video from Brain Pop. Know your enemy. 

Our strategy is to batten down the hatches and have a Brady Bunch marathon. Say what you will about that show, but having now seen a bunch of crap Disney Chanel TV while staying at hotels I will say this: at least the kids aren't always trying to out-smart-alec each other, and the parents don't always seem to be the thickest, most-dismissable humans on the planet (that's the role of Alice -- the hired help). The Brady Bunch provides an example of: working together, staying calm (man, they are cool to the old prospector who locks them in the ghost-town jail: It's okay, we understand why you locked us up and stole our car... just gave us an opportunity to practice our problem-solving skills...), and laughing at cheesy jokes no matter how stifling all that family-togetherness is -- exactly the modeling that we'll need now that The Dad has safely returned home from work and most of our elevators have been shut down.

I did go on a little walk this morning -- there was a feeling of expectation, a lot of people getting their dogs walked, and quite a bit of wind. Nobody seems particularly panicked here in the city -- we had our rehearsal a year ago with Irene.