Three years ago we started our December Advent calendar. On December 1st we left treats in front of our neighbors' doors. A few weeks later, right before Chinese New Year began the little girl from next door -- whose mother is from Southeast China -- knocked on our door and handed us satin rabbits. We had begun a tradition -- a yearly exchange. Last year we received dragons from a much more grown-up girl, and this year a confident middle schooler handed us snakes. Like a device used in a movie to show time passing, I can flash through those moments at the door and see our neighbor growing up. Small gestures fill me with a big sense of connectivity. I believe this is what it means to have roots.
Even with the myriad of races and creeds that allegedly run through my mother's veins, being Chinese has never come up. However, the brightness of the Chinese New Year celebrations are undoubtedly appealing, so every year our Valentine's decorations are regulated to the living room and the area around our table (our vast dining hall) is Chinese New Yeared up. As if that isn't authentic enough, we also order from China Fun at least once during the holiday period.
This year, with our master 17-year old planner, we decided to go a step further and explore Chinatown. The one downside: because of the holiday a few of the places on the agenda were closed.
We started our journey taking the B down to Grand Street.
Our first stop was the Mahayana Buddhist Temple on Canal Street where we saw the altar with piles of oranges and flowers (and became motivated to make our own tomorrow), were impressed by the enormous Buddha statue, paid $1/fortune, and up in the rather random upstairs "gift shop/museum" paid $3 for a little "lady Buddha" (for that altar we decided to make).
Confucius says: "Wherever you go, go with all your heart." We went to Confucius Plaza today, and saw his statue. I feel motivated to study his words more... Perhaps a quote a week...
On to Chatham Square where we saw the memorial arch that specifically honors a pilot shot down during WWII (Kimlau) and more broadly honors all Chinese Americans who have died while serving. We also saw that statue of Lin Zexu -- the "pioneer" in the war against Opium. I must admit that when I tried to explain the Opium Wars to the kids, it was rather vague -- money, tea consumption, the British, opium -- it really just comes down to what Nancy Reagan taught: don't do (or import) drugs even if your tea is on the line. (The British and that damn tea...it seems like it got them in more trouble from an international relations perspective... though in this case it was the opium that was thrown into the sea... Though I will say that it rather sums up the spirit behind my anglophileness -- we do terrible things and chuck our morals for oil so we can drive our SUVs, they did terrible things and chucked their morals so they could have tea with their bickies.) Ah... and that tangent is a fine example of the social studies curriculum.
We slipped down Dowry Street where there are some fun stores to peek into, a tea parlor, barber shops, and the little street turns at a 90-degree angle.
On Bowery we saw the Edward Mooney house on our way to Lin Sister Herb Shop.
I wanted to know more about the herbs and what they healed and how they smelled, but it was clear from the moment we walked in with two prattlers in bright red coats that we were just lame voyeurs. I asked for permission before we took a couple of pictures, and it felt like good manners to buy something, so we finally settled (Judd the Red Chicken had all sorts of ideas of what we should buy -- he was going very exotic) on a pretty bag of rose buds -- not for tea -- but for that altar we're making tomorrow.
We stopped by the library -- I appreciated the red doors -- the library is indeed a lucky place.
We went to Oriental Books and Stationary on Broadway and for 65 cents a pop got these awesome retro notebooks, some decorations to add to our Chinese New Year celebrations (little paper banners for 35 cents that we're told say: "You should get what you want" -- the children picked out that sentiment -- I was more for peace, health, love, etc...), and tiny shiny papers for folding origami (which I thought was Japanese?)
The Church of the Transfiguration is the oldest Roman Catholic church building in NYC. We stopped by and quietly sat with about three older ladies who were worshipping. While there we saw a poster about Felix Varela. I did not know that he existed until today, but having looked him up and read this article, I am glad to know about him.
We went to Columbus Park. Opened around the turn of the century, the park was the first step in the social movement to do away with the slums -- for here was the infamous Five Points neighborhood. Now it is a place where men that live in Chinatown gather and play games -- even in the bitter cold. My favorite quote of the day came from The Boy as we walked through: "It's interesting that nobody is on their cellphones."
We saw the statue of Dr. Sun Yat-Sen who was apparently the father of the revolution in China. It's interesting to note that his big revolution days were starting just a few years after the park was created. Change was in the air; leaders were raising their heads above the crowds and calling for the end of oppression and unfairness. I've always wanted to have an enormous timeline wrapped around my walls that would provide a visual representation of what was going on simultaneously in the world. To be able to trace themes and trends and see how far back ideas might have germinated...
On our way to see the dragon kiosk we stopped at an interesting bead/accessory store, per The Girl's request. We saw some impressive bead "art," and picked up a pair of cute barrettes that got put in the cutest bag on the planet.
Our trip to Chinatown was fascinating and fun and frugal. We didn't buy anything that cost over $3. Our last stop was the Dragon Land Bakery where gals are at the ready with their tongs to place your selection in a bag. We bought four different savory buns, and four different selections from the bakery -- the entire order came to $10. The strange eggy, spongy cake was not worth my $1.20, but all the savory buns/rolls were delicious.
Hurray for The Sister who planned a fun and educational field trip. Hurray for NYC for all of its wonderful nooks and crannies. Hurray for people who have reached their potential -- whether world leaders or barrette designers. Hurray for the scheme -- it does allow us to "go with all our heart" and "get what we want" -- our Chinese New Year's wish has already manifested itself.
Math is our albatross. I am cursed, ergo crazed. One minute I'm: "Guess what? Plenty of people in this world are not good at something. Do they let that get them down? They do not. They focus on what they are awesome at." And then the next minute I'm like: "Do you understand how important this is? If you can't focus and pull it out when you need it you will not be able to advance to the next grade." It is mind boggling for me. It must be soul-destroying for him.
Today I was volunteering. While I was away The Sister completely reviewed a concept. He seemed to have it. At 11am the knitting teacher whom we all love came with some math ideas to practice. Apparently when she asked him for some answers (that he just "knew" an hour before) he could not retrieve them. When I got home The Sister looked like she had been through war. She said the sweet brilliant knitting instructor also seemed frustrated before she left. Even that lovely creature.
If I allow myself to get too caught up in this, it becomes totally consuming. It must be so frustrating for him. I know it is. Math was the same for me as a kid. The difference was that my entire school-identity was not threatened by it. Neither did it determine whether or not I would go on to an awesome middle school or a hell-hole of a middle school (for the record, the only option was a hell-hole middle school, but that's a story for another time).
On the IXL program that follows what is to be mastered for fourth grade we opened the Roman numerals a while ago, tried them out and quite frankly, both of us kept getting confused as soon as too many letters got strung together (add these two, or subtract these two?). I bought some cool Roman numeral candles and said that someday when he passed that section we would make a cake to put the candles on... and then we moved on to another section.
I'm not sure why today, when we had already had math set-backs in areas that we thought were mastered, I decided to reopen the Roman Numeral section, but I did. I sat for a while and really concentrated and finally figured it out. I remembered being in sixth grade (yes, that would be a full TWO years later than when they are expected to learn it now), and my friend coming to school with a little phrase memorized that her dad had made up (L---- [her last name] Children Deserve Money) -- to remember the order (L = 50; C = 100; D = 500; M = 1,000). At the time, I didn't notice that I committed the phrase to memory (because I was so hopelessly lost regarding Roman numerals I don't think I really got what the LCDM business meant), but I clearly remember thinking was how jealous I always was of her home life. In an enormous -- always chaotic -- house there were five kids, piles of laundry and other stuff, random pets, a stay-at-home mom, and a dad that helped with homework. That was a future that I wanted someday. I do not recall being worried that not learning my Roman numerals would in any way destroy my opportunity for success and happiness.
With that memory swirling about, I invited The Boy to come and sit with me and work through some problems (3,467 = MMMCDLXVII). And then we worked through more. And it was almost kind of fun. And he was pretty good at it. At one point he said: "I think this is one of my skills." And I thought: "Of course it is -- because knowing Roman numerals is so relevant and useful," but I said, "I think that you're right."
He finished the section. Saturday, when some friends come over for dinner, we are going to have our cake with our Roman numerals candles.
I anticipate that we will continue stressing about math -- and bigger things -- but I also anticipate that as long as we capitalize on our strength -- that we are a family that works together -- the kids will be okay. By being that working-together-family we will be what my 6th-grade self desperately aspired to be a part of. To think: I made my most precious life-goal without ever becoming proficient at math. Ever.
Though, it has to be said, The Boy and I are both kind of attacking the Roman numerals (1,734 = MDCCXXXIV).
The public school children had three days of their President's Week Break rescinded because of the unexpected vacation blown in by Hurricane Sandy, so today they all returned. The Boy has a friend at a private school where the decision was made to pull back days from Spring Break instead, so we met up this afternoon and tried to take advantage of the intermittent sunshine by getting a few winter wiggles worked out at the playground. As it turned out, no break in the cloud coverage could bring any warmth to the bitterly cold, windy day. While it was mentally fulfilling to have the playground entirely to ourselves, physical blood circulation in the extremities is beneficial.
Exiting the park in pursuit of hot cocoa we stopped to admire cardinals (latin name: Cardinalis cardinalis) -- a fidgety male and a much more focused female. While watching the birds we noticed that green tips are starting to push out; the Snowdrops (latin name: Galanthus) are here. Usually "signs of Spring" make us giddy, but this year I have mixed feelings. While I long for the warmth and long days to return, for once I'm in no hurry to finish the school year. Collige virgo rosas.
Camp begins and the duffle bag bursting with plans seems to promise endless experiences... but it ends. Bags are repacked, promises to write are spoken, hugs, waves, the going away, the return to life and one's own bed.
Today was the last day of Art Camp. The souvenir t-shirts were created, the last project was completed (reverse painting on plexiglass -- they learned how to layer the paint so the details that should be "in front" are applied first on the reverse side of the plexiglass, etc.), the Art Show curated (our lovely neighbor/friend/piano teacher ran over between appointments, drank a sparkling drink and oohed and aahed in the appropriate way), and then the goodbyes cried.
No matter how much more comfortable your own bed is, it always sucks when camp is over. Unless you're Hayley Mills and Hayley Mills and about to pull off the biggest post-camp shenanigan ever.
And Art Camp continues -- much to The Girl's great satisfaction. Two 9-year old boys playing intense Play-Mobil and drawing museum plans also continues -- much to The Girl's significant dissatisfaction, as her plans are usually poo-pooed (note: NOT a phrase I would ever use around 9-year old boys).
A catch-up on the projects:
Still-life Painting -- (Focus: blending colors: "Is that what color it REALLY is?" and using the brush and paint to create texture and depth.)
Clay fish -- (Sculpey clay into a wooden mold; baked for 45 minutes; watercolored; glazed with the Sculpey glaze.)
More felting -- The Girl is rather addicted. Any time there is a lull she is suggesting another felting project. She created another animal, blankets, and pillows. They worked together to create a felted patch-work-y monster/snake (it was supposed to be a snake for The Year of the Snake/Chinese New Year, but somehow The Girl -- as the resident felting boss -- demanded that legs be added). Snake/Monster is currently hanging over our breakfast bar and the plan is to write silly stories about him and ship him back and forth between here and Seattle every month.
His travels to and fro will not only be a writing project, but a symbol of what the cousins created together. Families that felt together stick together.
